Anthology Sins of Winter

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A Total-E-Bound Publication

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Sins of Winter Anthology
ISBN # 978-0-85715-894-9
Toppling Pedestals ©Copyright D.J. Manly 2012
If Come ©Copyright A.J. Llewellyn 2012
Winter Challenge ©Copyright Serena Yates 2012
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright February 2012
Edited by Stacey Birkel
Total-E-Bound Publishing

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination
and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or
places is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form,
whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of
the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound
Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil
proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs
and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator
of the artwork.

Published in 2012 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL,
United Kingdom.

Warning:

This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This
story has a heat rating of Total-e-burning and a sexometer of 2.

This book contains 206 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book
containing 7 pages.

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SINS OF WINTER ANTHOLOGY

Toppling Pedestals

D.J. Manly

If Come

A.J. Llewellyn

Winter Challenge

Serena Yates

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Book three in The Seven Deadly Sins Series

The seven deadly sins: lust, wrath, greed, gluttony, envy, pride and sloth.

The Sins of Winter weaves a general thread of revelation loosely tying these tales together.
Acedia, a precursor to sloth, Greed and Pride, are explored in these hot m/m tales involving
action, burning hot sex and out-of-this-world adventures that will warm you up…fast!

‘Toppling Pedestals’ by D.J. Manly

In Toppling Pedestals, DJ Manly deals with the sin of pride.

The thought that there was something better out there took Tristan away…then pride almost broke his

heart.

Tristan, Samuel and Casey had been friends since grade one. When Casey—the doctor’s
son—goes off to university, Samuel and Tristan are left behind in their small hometown.

Samuel comes from a poor background and has no money for school. He takes a job in the
hardware store that Tristan’s parents own. Tristan decides to work at the store for a year
before joining Casey at school. He’s expected to run the store eventually but wants to explore
what’s out there first. Breaking away from the town means breaking Samuel’s heart. When
tragedy brings Tristan home again, will pride stand in the way of letting Samuel know how
he feels?

‘If Come’ by A.J. Llewellyn

In If Come, AJ Llewellyn deals with the ancient deadly sin of acedia.

It was once considered the ‘noonday demon’—a melancholia that is brought about by
repetitive work. Writing, marriage and monkhood were the three main occupations said to
induce it.

Zam Carmarthen is a mildly successful Hollywood screenwriter struggling with a
debilitating depression that prevents him from completing anything he starts. When he lands
an ‘If Come’ deal with a major Hollywood producer, he's finally forced to focus on his work
and not give in to the strange malaise gripping him. In order to ever move ahead in the
movie business, he must complete the pilot episode of his proposed TV series, Angel Inn. If
his producer is able to sell the series, Zam will be a very rich man. Everything he has worked
for can be his.

Paralysed by his depression, he finds unusual solace in the form of his arch nemesis, Dominic
Glass—a surgeon turned super successful screenwriter…and the man who rewrote Zam's hit
screenplay for his own glory.

Can Zam overcome the depression Dominic calls acedia, which threatens to derail his whole
life? Can he move on from his long time sex buddy Jason? And what about these new

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feelings he has for Dominic in spite of their rocky history? Will Zam get it together…or will
Dominic once again walk away with all the credit for something Zam created?

‘Winter Challenge’ by Serena Yates

In Winter Challenge, Serena Yates deals with the sin of greed.

Paediatrician Noah Goldwin receives some bad news—his father has died and his greedy
elder brother doesn’t only take over the family business, he wants the entire fortune for
himself. So, he informs Noah that he was adopted and washes his hands of him. Noah, who
never knew of his past, sets out to find his roots.

An elderly aunt, a mysterious ring and a location in the far north of Canada are his only
hints...until he meets a tall, dark stranger who may have the solution to all his questions.
There is only one problem—Ataro lives in a parallel dimension.

Will the two men be able to find a way to join forces? How will they defeat the power hungry
enemies on Ataro’s world? And are inter-dimensional relationships even possible?

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Dedication

To old friends.

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Chapter One

Everyone slips. Everyone makes mistakes in their lives, but the difference between

those who are true failures and those who rise above seems to come down to one thing—

humility. To admit you’ve made a mistake means swallowing your pride. That’s not an easy

thing to do even when the stakes are high, especially when you risk losing the love of your

life.

* * * *

The Beginning

The kids at school used to call us the three musketeers—Samuel, Casey, and Tristan—

Tristan being me. The three of us had been inseparable from grade one onwards. I was the

leader, full of cocky self-confidence, the daredevil who led the other two astray…or so they

claimed.

It was a wonder we even became friends at all, because we were all so different. I

tended to look for trouble, mostly out of boredom. Meanwhile, Sam was simply at odds with

everything, a born rebel. He’d earned the bad boy rep early, and unlike me, he couldn’t seem

to get away with anything.

Casey was an only child. His mom had died when he was a baby and his dad was a

doctor. Casey was the ‘good boy’—at least, everyone assumed he was. He was the teacher’s

pet every year and always said the right things. I think Sam and I enjoyed leading Casey into

trouble and watching him stress about getting discovered. He and the doc lived in a big

white house near the school. Casey was all about style, even as a kid with his expensive,

brand-name running shoes. It got worse when he hit puberty. Sam and I often teased him

about being a snob, which he’d always vigorously deny, of course, just before showing off

his designer jeans. We loved Casey in spite of his quirks. He was generous and funny, even if

he sometimes got on our nerves.

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Sam, on the other hand, didn’t give a damn about status. He came from the wrong side

of the tracks, so to speak, and was a little rough around the edges. He wore his background

with a mix of pride and disdain. He was a great-looking kid but his clothes never seemed to

quite fit, and his hair was either too long or had been hacked at by one of his sisters. He was

the only one of us who had siblings—two elder sisters—who, besides giving Sam the

occasional crooked haircut, weren’t what one would call doting. Basically they spent their

time riding around in muscle cars with boys while their mother worked nights as the janitor

in the town bank. Casey and I rarely went over to the two bedroom apartment where Sam

lived because his mom slept during the day.

It was rumoured that Sam’s father was in jail. When we were kids, Sam said his father

was a pirate who navigated the high seas, finding treasure on mysterious deserted islands.

We all knew it wasn’t true. Nevertheless, it made for entertaining stories when we’d sleep in

the tent in Casey’s back yard on warm summer nights.

My parents owned the local hardware store so we had a nice house near the school not

far from Casey. Like my two friends, I had to fend for myself much of the time. My parents

worked long hours at the store, including weekends. And when it was closed, they did

inventory and the accounting. It was tough. It wasn’t until I turned sixteen that my parents

could actually afford to take on more staff.

Given that we were all pretty independent, we looked out for one another.

We had a freedom other kids didn’t have and that was a plus, of course. Our lives

weren’t structured in the same way as other kids’, what with our parents all working crazy

hours. But since we lived in a small town where everyone knew one another, our parents

didn’t worry too much. The town of Milton Corners was our baby sitter, with people telling

us to ‘get on home’ when they thought we were out too late. It was never hard to find a

trusted adult if we needed one in a pinch.

I knew I was gay by the time I hit twelve, but I kept it to myself. The three of us always

confessed everything to each other. We’d made a pact when we were eight. That was the first

time I’d broke it. Frankly, I wasn’t sure how Casey and Sam would take the news that I liked

boys. I thought they’d freak out, not want to hang out with me. Their friendship was the

most important thing in my life. So I kept it all inside.

I was good at sports and in high school I became the star basketball player. Sam and

Casey came to every game to cheer me on, although neither of them had much interest in

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playing. To my chagrin, my popularity in sports spilled over into being popular with girls.

There were several females who made absolute fools out of themselves over me, which I

found hard to understand, not to mention deal with. They would write me stupid love letters

and call me on the phone…sometimes they’d even show up outside my house. It was

annoying, especially since it was the boys in the locker room that made my hormones rage.

I made a pretence of liking girls, though, for appearance’s sake—even dated a few and

made out a little in the front seat of the car. The one time I fucked a girl, I didn’t hate it,

although it didn’t do much for me.

Ironically, the first person who ever told me I was good-looking was Sam. Seriously, I

didn’t think much about my looks. I was tall for my age, and athletic. I have dark hair and

dark eyes. I liked my reflection in the mirror on most days. I knew I wasn’t ugly…but good-

looking?

I’ll never forget that day. It was hellishly hot at the end of July and we were at Casey’s

house, swimming. It was the only one with a pool. I’d just turned nineteen. I came out of the

swimming pool to get my towel and glanced over at Sam, who was half dozing in one of

those lounge chairs. Casey had gone inside to ask the maid to make us some sandwiches. We

were all famished, as usual.

Sam raised his head when he noticed me standing there. The sun caught the highlights

in his hair—blond on top of chestnut brown. He smiled at me. That smile did something to

my insides it had never done before. It was weird. I couldn’t recall when his smile had

changed, or when Sam had got to be that hot. I just knew that smile of his was different.

“You know, Tristan,” he murmured, “you really are a good-looking guy.”

I paused as I wiped some water off my chest. I think I laughed, probably out of

embarrassment. Then I threw my towel at him. “Shut up!” I sat down on the chair beside him

a few minutes later and let my gaze wander over his suntanned skin. He was wearing a pair

of jean shorts, and he’d filled out a lot—he was no longer the gangly kid he’d been in grade

school. Oh yeah…hot. I remember turning my gaze away, feeling rather awkward thinking of

Sam that way.

That summer had been different in many ways. High school was over and we were all

uneasy about Casey going off to some prestigious university at the end of August. The three

of us had never been separated for more than a few weeks over the last eleven years. I’d put

off college because I didn’t know what I wanted to do, or where I wanted to go. I also wanted

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to work a bit and save some cash. My parents suggested I work in the store for a while,

which I was doing. I knew they intended for me to take over the business when they

retired—a constant sore point between us. Sam had picked up a few odd jobs in previous

summers but was now looking for something permanent. Often he’d say, ‘Unlike you fine

gentlemen, I’ll be going nowhere in life—literally or figuratively’.

“Stop saying that,” I told him that summer. “You can go wherever you want. You’re

smart.” He was smart, maybe smarter than all of us put together, but his mother had no

money for college.

“I could join the Army,” he suggested.

“You in the Army! Good God!” Casey and I laughed whenever Sam mentioned the

Army, but we all knew that’s what poor boys like Sam did. Neither of us wanted him to do

that.

Life was taking us in different directions and it was really scary. Although I truly

wanted to get out of this town, experience life, I was afraid to leave, to be separated from the

two best friends I had in the entire world.

* * * *

The night after Casey left for university, Sam and I sat together on the fire escape of his

apartment building. He and his mother still lived in the same place. His two sisters had both

left home so now Sam didn’t have to sleep on the couch in the living room. One sister had

got married then divorced in quick succession and was raising a baby on her own in an

apartment nearby. The other had left town completely and was rarely heard from.

“Found a job yet?” I asked Sam. We sat side by side, our shoulders touching.

He shrugged. “Got some offers, nothing permanent.”

“I can ask Dad,” I said. “He’d take you on in a heartbeat.”

“Hardware? What do I know about hardware?”

It was not meant to have any sexual meaning, but I tended to see sex in everything back

then. I smiled, surprised when he elbowed me and said, “Dirty boy.”

I met his gaze. “What?”

“You know what.” He looked away.

“Didn’t know you thought about that stuff,” I muttered.

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“What stuff exactly?”

“Sex.”

“What do you think I am, Tristan…a monk?”

I laughed. “No, I…I mean…”

“Duh, duh, duh,” he mocked.

I punched him in the arm. “Shut up, asshole.”

“Anyway…” He changed the subject. “I don’t know what I want to do. Mom’s on my

back to start earning my keep and the odd jobs aren’t paying much.”

“You’re not really thinking about joining the Army, are you?”

“Why not? Free education.”

“Head blown off by a land mine!”

“Free education.” He grinned.

“You’re a stupid ass,” I told him.

“No stupider than you. Who isn’t getting the hell out of here this year?”

“Touché,” I said. “I need cash. My parents did put a bit aside for school but I can’t rely

on them for everything. And you know they want me to take more responsibility at the

store.”

“It will be your store one day.”

“What if I don’t want that?”

Sam met my gaze. “You need to do what makes you happy.”

“Right.” I sighed.

We just sat there gazing at the stars for a while. This silence developed between us, and

the space filled with something I’d never felt before. It was uncomfortable, but it made me a

little breathless too. When I felt Sam’s hand settle lightly on my thigh, I stiffened.

He withdrew it right away and mumbled something. I looked at him. He was looking

away. “It’s…” I stopped. “It’s all right,” I told him.

He turned to me, met my gaze. He looked lost for words, but there was something in

his eyes that caused my heart to hammer a little faster in my chest.

I lifted my hand and touched his cheek. I laughed a little uneasily. “You have a nice

face,” I told him.

He started to laugh.

“What? You’re laughing at me!” I lowered my hand.

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He shook his head. “No.” He sobered, his voice soft. “It’s just…I don’t know. God,

Tristan,” he groaned, “I want to kiss you.”

I almost fell off the fire escape, grabbing the side rail just in time. I’d dreamt of this

moment, dreamt of how different it would feel from kissing a girl. I just never imagined that

it would be with Sam. “Ah, okay.” That was all I could think of to say. I know I probably

sounded like some kind of Neolithic cave man. Thank heavens Sam got up the nerve to go

ahead with it. I think I would have just sat there staring at him like an idiot all night if he

hadn’t.

Sam leant forwards and kissed me. My mouth was clamped shut as he did so. Sam

reared back again. “Open your mouth a little,” he coaxed. And there in the shadows, Sam

kissed me a second time. This time I relaxed my neck and my lips parted. Sam tilted his head

and deepened the kiss, the tip of his tongue lightly touching mine. His hand was back on my

thigh, and now his fingers dug into the flesh as the kiss went on.

When Sam separated from me, we were both breathless. He trailed his fingers over my

thigh. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

I shook my head, in shock.

“Doesn’t matter.” He smiled. “I know it’s just a kiss.”

I kept looking at him as he spoke. He had beautiful blue eyes and at the moment, they

looked a little sad.

“Eventually you’ll leave this town, just like Casey.”

“Are you kidding?” I grinned, desperately needing to lighten the mood. “I’ll end up

running the store. I’m going to go to college, take a business course, and then come back and

take over the store. I’ll probably marry some local girl and have lots of babies.”

“You won’t marry any girl.”

“It might be a phase, this,” I said, acutely aware that my sexuality was of no surprise to

Sam.

He took his hand off my thigh. “It’s not a phase, Tristan. You’ve been ogling guys in the

showers since you started growing pubes. ‘Fess up!”

My eyes widened. “You knew all this time?”

He nodded.

“And you didn’t say anything.”

“I thought you’d tell me when you were ready. Did you tell your parents?”

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“No.” I couldn’t believe I was actually talking about this out loud.

“Tristan…” His hand settled on my thigh again, caressing it. I subconsciously licked my

lips. “It’s okay. It’s the same for me.”

I met those blue eyes. “How long have you known?”

“Since I began to dream about you.”

I wanted to speak, to say something. Sam leaned towards me again, but then his mother

was at the bedroom window. “Sam! I got to go to work. Want to walk me?”

Sam’s mother didn’t like to walk alone at night, even though it was only a few blocks.

“Sure,” he said, getting up.

I jumped up as well. “I’ll come too.”

Sam looked at me and smiled.

We walked Sam’s mother to the bank as we often did, talking local gossip as we went.

What we were discussing with her that night I can’t recall. It was something about the new

hairdresser in town and her trucker boyfriend, the one with all the tattoos. Most of it didn’t

before the night was over.

Sam gave his mother a quick peck on the cheek in front of the bank and flashed an

inviting smile at me. He came closer, his lips almost touching my ear. “Want to watch TV

back at my place…up in my room?”

I nodded. We hurried to the apartment building, only slowing down when we reached

the front door. Sam looked at me. “Are you ready for this, Tristan?”

“Are you?”

“Oh yeah,” he breathed.

I was ready too. I’d been ready for a while. I was just a little freaked out that my first

time was going to be with Sam. We walked into the building and headed upstairs. Sam

slipped the key in the door and opened it. Every movement seemed to take place in slow

motion, and every sound appeared amplified as we travelled down the narrow hallway. I

knew that Sam’s bedroom was at the end of the hall next to the kitchen and my blood roared

in my ears as the wall clock ticked off the seconds.

I hesitated as Sam walked into his room then switched on the television. The ten o’clock

news was on. The lady on the screen spoke about the stock market and the fall of the dollar.

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My gaze flew to Sam’s double bed, the one his sisters used to share. The bedspread was navy

blue, and a little worse for wear. I clutched the doorjamb.

“Wait,” Sam said, “I’ve got something.”

I narrowed my eyes curiously as Sam went to his knees and brought out a little box

from under the bed. “What’s that?” I asked, moving into the room. My cock was hard as

rock, and I couldn’t quite stop shaking.

He smiled up at me as he brought the box up onto the mattress. “Look, why don’t you

get into bed? It’s a surprise.”

I nodded and began to toe off my shoes. I lifted my T-shirt over my head, and when I

saw him go over to the television, I quickly unzipped my jeans and yanked them off along

with my socks then got under the navy bedspread with my underwear still on. It was stupid.

Sam had seen me naked a million times. We often skinny dipped together—the three of us,

after dark, down at the creek—but this wasn’t the same.

He seemed surprised when he turned to see me in the bed. He laughed a little. “That

was fast.” Casually he undid his shirt and the lady on the television disappeared, to be

replaced by the credits for some film.

“What’s the movie?” I asked, as if I’d come here for that.

He grinned. “You’ll see.” He was undoing his jeans now and my gaze stayed glued

there although I couldn’t see very well in the semi-dark.

When two guys appeared on the screen and one began to undress the other, I was

speechless. Gay porn. Where in the hell had Sam gotten gay porn around here?

“You like?” Sam asked.

My gaze flew from the screen to him. I could see him clearly now as he approached the

bed. Unlike me, he didn’t leave on his underwear. He was totally naked, his cock swaying

slightly between well-muscled thighs, his balls—perfect—pulling up under him. He was

hard—around eight, maybe nine inches—and I forgot the porn.

Sam crawled onto the bed. He leaned over me, touched my face again and kissed me.

He stroked my hair. “It’s okay,” he said softly, “don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you, Tristan. I

only want to make love to you.”

This was Sam?

“I’m…not scared.”

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“You’re shaking,” he smiled, clutching the top of the bedspread I was holding on to for

dear life. He pulled. “Let it go,” he laughed. “Close your eyes.”

The men on the screen were moaning and groaning. Sam reached over for the remote

and turned the volume way down. “We can make our own soundtrack.” He kissed my

temple.

I almost laughed. I let my eyes close and released the bedspread. We weren’t going to

get anywhere this way. The bedspread was thrown aside. I heard him chuckle. “Want to

make me work for it, eh, Tristan?”

I sucked in some breath as I felt his fingers lower the waistband of my briefs down over

my erection.

“You are so beautiful,” Sam groaned, his lips barely touching my shaft.

I swallowed.

He swirled his tongue around the head of my cock and I felt his hair tickle my abs. He

began to lick up the shaft with long, slow strokes and I grabbed bunches of sheet in my fists.

His tongue again circled the head as he caressed my balls. I thought I was going to pass out.

“Sam?”

“Hmm?” He moved his hand up over my abs to my chest.

I couldn’t speak. All I could do was say his name as his mouth claimed the head of my

cock. He moved his tongue around it inside the heavenly haven of his mouth and I felt like

screaming as my hips pushed against his mouth, wanting him to take more. A girl had given

me head once when I was fourteen. It had been a disaster. She’d scraped my shaft with her

teeth, drawing blood, and had gagged so much on my pre-cum, I’d lost my erection. This

was nothing like that. Sam gradually took more of my cock into his mouth. He opened his

jaw until I felt my cock at the back of his throat. His fingers moved gently over my nipple,

increasing the tension as it hardened. I pinched the other one as my head arched back. Sam’s

tongue and lips went into overdrive.

Between my thighs, I watched Sam’s mess of streaked brown hair bob up and down

frantically as my cock was tightened in the soft, stimulating vice of his lips. He lapped

frantically with his tongue as he sucked. Even when my cock began to pulse, he hung on—

deep-throating me until the cords in my neck stood out and I began to buck out my release.

He swallowed then backed up, wiping at his mouth. I couldn’t stop looking at him as I kept

coming, my hand fondling myself as my cum splashed Sam’s chest and stomach.

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He smiled at me and I swear I’d never seen anything in my entire life more beautiful

than that smile. “Sam? Holy shit. Where did you learn to…?”

Suddenly, I realised—this might be my first time, but it wasn’t Sam’s. He’d done this

before.

Sam didn’t answer my question. Instead, he crawled up closer to me. His cock was hard

and standing straight up. “Touch me, Tristan,” he pleaded, reaching for my hand.

I let him place my hand on his cock. Once I touched him, I became obsessed. I stroked it

slowly, like I would my own, fascinated by the texture and the feel of it in my hand. He let

his head go back and I moved my other hand over his torso as I sat up. I leaned closer,

sucking one of his hard nipples as I increased the tempo. I’d never sucked a guy off before,

but I wanted to. I wanted to make him come. I wanted to taste him, but I was apprehensive.

I moved my mouth down his chest and Sam placed a hand on my head. He applied a

slight pressure, leaving no doubt about what he wanted. At the first contact of my nose and

mouth with his groin, I was surprised to find it pleasant, and before long, as I tasted his cock

with my tongue, I found it quite addictive.

I was a natural, at least that’s what Sam told me later. I took his cock in, and after a few

minutes relaxed the muscles in my throat. I gagged once when I was sucking him, but that

was it. Sam moaned. He cried out my name as I sucked and licked him with an intensity

bordering on manic. At one time, Sam held my head between his hands and frantically

fucked my face then gave me control again.

When he came, he forced me back. Maybe he thought I couldn’t handle it all. It was

probably a good move. Sam fell back against the pillows, his legs under him, and his cock

released its burden. I watched him come with desire. I was hard again.

Sam reached out and drew me down into his arms. “Beautiful,” he whispered. “You’re

beautiful, Tristan, and oh so talented.” He grinned at me, winked.

I met his gaze. “Are you going to tell me where you learned how to do that? Someone

taught you.”

He sighed. “I’ll tell you one day.”

“But not now?”

He shook his head. “You’re hard again.” He reached down between my legs and

fondled me.

“Mm hmm.” I nodded.

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He rolled to the left and opened a drawer. I saw the lube and the condoms. I met his

gaze, my eyes wide.

“I want you to fuck me,” he said.

“Ah…Sam?”

He kissed my mouth. “You won’t hurt me. I’ll show you what to do, just to start and

then you do what comes naturally. You’ve fucked before?”

“A girl!” I protested.

“Same thing, only”—he smiled—“better.” He handed me the lube then turned onto his

stomach. “You got to loosen me up a little, lube me…it’s easier that way, for you and me.”

He glanced around at me. “You do want to?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

He smiled. “Good.”

“You have the greatest ass,” I said, glancing briefly at the two guys in the film who

were fucking like crazy. I ran my hand over one hard buttock. “So round and firm. Much

nicer than those guys.”

He chuckled. “Stop talking and get going.”

I smiled. I kissed the back of his neck down to his spine and caressed his ass for a while.

“Put the lube on your fingers and go around the opening, then slowly move up inside,

one then two fingers. If you go deep enough, you’ll hit the prostate. It’s fucking sensational,”

he grunted.

“Sam?”

“What babe?”

I smiled at ‘babe’. “What if I’m no good?”

“Then I’ll spank you.”

“Ha, ha.”

He laughed. “Go for it, stud. Fuck me good.”

His words sent a shiver up my spine. My cock was already leaking cum. I spattered

lube on my fingers then opened his ass cheeks. I’d seen the guys on the screen tongue each

other and I wondered if I could. I took a breath and buried my nose there, reaching out with

my tongue.

Sam let out a shout. “Shit!”

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I tongued him a while then lubed him. My finger went up inside him quite easily and

by the time I’d stimulated him enough to make him plead, I was ready to fuck. “Get up on all

fours,” I told him gruffly, “and hand me a condom.”

Sam was breathing hard, his head hanging down as he presented his ass to me. Doggie-

style, I took him, holding on tight as I sunk deep into his ass. I was breathless, my cock

squeezed into a tight tunnel. I’d never felt anything like it. I knew my cock belonged there. I

knew I’d been born to fuck this way, and I lost all self-consciousness about it. I just let go. I

fucked the shit out of my best friend that night. We both came, sweat and cum-coated, then

after we’d rested a bit, I fucked Sam again. We shouted and swore, and it was almost surreal

as I coaxed sounds out of Sam I’d never heard before.

* * * *

When the sun rose in the morning sky, Sam woke me. He was leaning over me, smiling

as I opened my eyes. When had he gotten to be so handsome? When had we grown into men? “Hey,

hot stuff. It’s almost seven. How about I spring for breakfast at The Diner?”

I nodded, meeting those blue eyes. “Sounds great but there’s something I need to take

care of first.” I took my own cock in hand. “Think you could help me with this?”

Sam reached out and slapped the lube into my hand. “In the shower.”

I chased after him down the hallway, waiting impatiently as he turned on the shower

and got in. I climbed in after him. He dangled a condom in front of me. I was already way

ahead of him with the lube. I pushed him against the tiles, chest first, and inserted two

fingers inside him. He grunted. “Easy, I’m sore,” he said.

“Should we wait?” I was moving my fingers in and out of his opening.

“No, just slow and easy this time, okay?”

“Um, no problem.” Slow and easy was difficult. After running my hands all over his

naked, wet flesh, my cock didn’t want to go slow at all, but I exercised self-control. I didn’t

want to hurt him. At the end we came, shuddering out deep moans of satisfaction as our cum

ran down the drain, mingling with the water. I wondered if he would want to fuck me. The

thought scared me a bit.

As we dressed, I braved the question. “Sam?”

“Hmm?” He looked over at me, putting on his shoes.

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“Did you want to…you know, fuck me?”

He stopped, moved in my direction. “Is that an invitation?”

“Well, I…just that…I wondered if you wanted to sometime?”

“I want to.” He nodded. “I thought it would be easier like this. I didn’t want to push too

fast your first time.”

“Did it feel good when I…when I fucked you?”

“Good?” He laughed. “Oh baby, it was fantastic. You fuck so well. It’s incredible.

You’re a natural.”

“It hurts though.”

“The first time more.” He met my eyes. “Or if you fuck hard all night like we did, you

get a little raw.” He laughed. “It goes away.”

“I want you to…try it some night. Fuck me, okay?”

Sam nodded. “My pleasure. Whenever you want. Let’s eat, stud. I’m hungry.”

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Chapter Two

The Middle

I finally talked Sam into working for my parents at the hardware store. There was no

way in hell I was letting him run off and join the Army. Since that first hot night in July, Sam

and I had sex at every opportunity—at his mother’s apartment, at my parents’ house, down

by the creek, in the back seat of my car. We had always been the closest of friends and of

course the sex just brought us closer together. I’d been worried. It was said there was no

better way to ruin a friendship than by complicating it with sex, but it had just intensified

what we already felt for each other.

My parents announced at the end of September that they were taking their first

vacation in years—a cruise to the Seven Islands. They were leaving me in charge. Sam had

proven to be the best employee my parents had ever had at West Hardware. He’d learned

almost every facet of the business quickly—stock taking and shelving, customer relations and

product details. Along with Sam, the delivery guy and two cashiers, we’d do fine while they

were gone.

“You’ll come and stay at the house,” I told Sam after hearing the news.

“If you want me to, I will.”

I did. I wanted to be with him all the time, and I wanted him to fuck me. I imagined

what it would be like, his cock buried deep inside me, and after a while, it became an

obsession. Sam had already put his fingers inside me. Although slightly uncomfortable at

first, eventually I craved it. The next step would be his cock and I knew he wanted me that

way. I could tell whenever we were naked together. Sometimes, he’d move his cock against

my hip, as if he were inside me and I felt him struggle to exercise restraint.

The night he came to stay with me, I made dinner. I had candles and wine and had

made roast chicken. Sam loved chicken. He arrived later than I’d thought, and he looked

tired when he came through the door. “What happened?” I asked him.

“Freddy’s battery died. I had to give him a boost.”

“Oh.” Freddy was Sam’s neighbour upstairs. “Did it start?”

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“Yep. What smells so good?” He grinned.

“Chicken.”

“I’m starving. Let me go and clean up.”

A half hour later, we sat down to dinner. We talked about this and that, sipped wine,

and laughed over little things. I couldn’t help imagining what it would be like, our own

place, like this every night. What in hell was wrong with me? I had no intention of living here

all my life. I wanted to go to school, do something with my life. Hardware was boring to me.

Sam and I…well… This was now. We’d probably outgrow all this.

“Got a letter from Casey,” Sam said, helping me pick up the plates and carting them to

the kitchen.

I looked at him. “That’s nice.” I didn’t tell him that Casey had written to me at least four

times since he’d left, trying to convince me to join him at school next semester.

“It’s for both of us,” Sam said. “Maybe he thought you blew this town so he’d better

send it to me. I’m a sure bet.” Sam took out the letter. “Here. He’s coming home

Thanksgiving.”

I skimmed the words. Having a great time. Tell Tristan he should come here to school. Great

basketball team. Miss you guys.

I folded the letter, handed it back. I already knew all that.

“So, are you going?” Sam met my gaze.

“Going where?”

“To that school where Casey is?”

“I don’t know. Haven’t thought about it.” It was a lie. It’s all I’d thought about, moving

to the big city. I couldn’t hide anything from Sam.

“Liar.” he grinned.

I shook my head. I didn’t want to talk about leaving. Nothing could touch this evening,

the plans I had. I came closer, folded my arms around him. “Sam?”

“Hmm?” He kissed the top of my head.

“Take me upstairs and fuck me.”

Sam lifted his head and met my gaze. He looked for something in my eyes and

apparently found it because he nodded.

I put out all the candles and locked the door downstairs. When I got to my room, Sam

was lying naked on the bed. I swallowed, licked my lips as he casually stroked his cock. I

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took off my clothes and got onto the bed. He pulled me to him and took my mouth. We

rolled together on the bed, hands roaming naked flesh. He pressed me to the mattress and

slowly began licking my chest, nibbling each nipple as he fondled my balls. He licked my

cock. I was so hard, I wanted to scream.

He pushed my knees up to my chest, spread my legs wide then began to insert his

lubed finger inside me. I moaned deeply as his finger stroked my prostate and sensations of

pleasure shot through me. “Sam…” I pleaded. He took his time. He inserted a second

greased finger into me and I bucked my hips. He looked down at me and kissed my mouth

slowly, our tongues sliding against one another as he moved his fingers inside me. “Relax,”

he told me. He bore down on me, pulling his fingers out, then the head of his cock pressed

against the lubed opening.

I tensed. He smiled. “Relax.” He pushed and I felt the head of his cock opening me.

“Clench your muscles then relax them.”

I clenched and relaxed and his cock went deeper.

“I feel like I…”

“I know.” He shook his head. “You don’t. It’s my cock.” He grunted and went deeper.

I cried out, but not in pain. “Oh…Sam…God…you feel… Go on…deeper. Deeper.”

He pushed again, filling me, stretching me and I wanted more. “Fuck me, fuck me.”

He began to move out a little then back in, side to side, out, in, slow, slow, faster…then

so fast my teeth rattled and I cried out. “Yes! Oh baby, Sam! Fuck!”

* * * *

Every night for two weeks, after we’d finished work, Sam and I would race up to my

room, and he’d take his time working me up, then he’d fuck me. On the final night before my

parents were scheduled to come back, I lay there in his arms, sweaty and happy, and decided

to ask him if he was satisfied with our sex life. Since he’d first fucked me, I had stopped

fucking him, and I wondered if I was being selfish. “Sam? I was wondering. Do you

sometimes prefer it the other way around?”

He looked at me. “You mean you fucking me?”

“Yeah.”

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He grinned. “I like making love to you, Tristan. I’m your willing slave, don’t you

know?”

“But what do you prefer? I mean, I love fucking you but…”

“You love me inside of you more.” Sam hugged my shoulders.

I nodded. “Does that make me a slut?”

“Yeah,” he teased.

I punched him. “Not nice.”

“Babe, I love fucking you. I’m a natural top I think, but anytime you want me, I’ll

bottom for you. I’m pretty easy, as long as you love me.”

That word love kind of stumped me. We’d never spoken of love. Sure, I loved him as a

friend, but romantic love… I didn’t want Sam to love me in that way. I didn’t want anyone to

keep me here.

I got out of bed. I knew he was staring at me, but he didn’t say anything.

“Sam. You know I plan on leaving here one day, going to school.” I didn’t say I’d

already applied to Casey’s school for next semester.

He didn’t answer.

I turned to see he’d rolled onto his side. He was propped up on his elbow, staring down

at the mattress.

“I don’t want to waste my life here in this little town.”

“Don’t want to waste your life with me.”

The words were said so softly, I almost didn’t hear them. “There’s nothing for me here.”

He looked up sharply. “I don’t expect you to stay here because of me, Tristan. I would

never hold you back, if that’s what you really want.”

“I don’t mean you,” I replied, realising how it had sounded. “We’ve always been best

friends and I love you. That won’t change, but it’s—”

“Stop talking, Tristan,” he said, getting out of bed. He began to put on his clothes.

“Where are you going? You’re not staying?” I went to block his way.

He looked at me. “I think we should stop playing this game. It isn’t going anywhere.”

“Where did you think it was going?”

He met my gaze. After a few seconds, he shook his head. “Nowhere.” He brushed by

me.

I followed him. “Sam, you’re not going to…”

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He turned, glanced at me. “Run off and join the military? No.” He shook his head. “I’ve

got a good job at the hardware store. I plan to keep it unless”—he paused—“you’d prefer I

didn’t?”

“Why in hell would I jeopardise your job?” I followed him downstairs, realising that I

was naked. “Why are we fighting?”

“We’re not fighting,” Sam said. “It just dawned on me that you don’t care enough about

me to fight.” He opened the door and closed it behind him.

I was confused. I was scared to get stuck here, up to my neck in hardware for the rest of

my life. I wanted to see what life was like outside this town, meet different men…and yes,

have more than one lover in my lifetime. How in hell could I tell if I loved Sam in that way? I

had nothing to compare him with.

Still, I grieved. I saw Sam the next day at work and the special connection between us

seemed stilted. It had been replaced by something else—hurt, anger, confusion. Those words

came back to haunt me. Don’t mix sex with friendship. You could lose what’s most important. I

couldn’t see myself without Sam in my life. Even if I left this town, I imagined that we’d

always be friends. Now he was cold and distant.

My parents had arrived home but were too tired to come in that day. My mother called

to say they’d be back at work tomorrow. Sam was busy stocking shelves in the outer

showroom, as Christmas stock and winter equipment were coming in.

“We should think about putting up the Christmas decorations,” I told Mary-Lou, one of

the cashiers.

“Usually your parents hire on some new staff for Christmas and we do it with them,”

she said.

I nodded but my attention was on Sam, who was pricing some of the new items a few

feet away. Mary-Lou was looking at him too. She went back to the cash register when I gave

her a look. I heard her whisper to Doris, the other cashier, “Sam is so hot. Love those jeans on

him. What a hunk!”

I walked away. It was four in the afternoon and Sam hadn’t said more than two words

to me all day. I walked up beside him finally. “Hey.”

He glanced at me. “Is there something you need me to do, boss?”

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It wasn’t suggestive at all, but I could feel how his hands had caressed my skin, how

he’d moved his cock inside me, and I wanted to throw my arms him, beg him not to do this.

“Whatever I’ve said, I’m sorry.”

Sam shrugged. “Forget it.” He glanced over at the other aisle. “You got a customer.”

I nodded absently and went over to answer a man’s questions about painting supplies.

Later, I found Sam in the stock room, marking down things on his clip board. “Sam?”

He glanced up at me.

“I’m still here. Let’s be together.”

“If you need a hard cock, I can give you some names.”

That stung. “Those guys, I suppose…that taught you your stuff?” I asked bitterly.

“You actually sound jealous.” He put down the clipboard. “Nice touch, Tristan.”

He walked past me. I lowered my head and sighed. I tried repeatedly to make amends

with Sam. He wouldn’t budge. And the more he dug in his heels, the more I did too. I told

myself to hell with him, but that’s not the way I felt.

My parents came back to work and hired two people for the Christmas rush, which

always began with Thanksgiving. I helped train them, and everything went fairly well. Sam

and I kept our distance from one another. He did his job and I did mine, but my mother and

father picked up on it.

“What’s going on with you and Sam?” Mom asked one day when Sam was out back

with the delivery guy.

“Nothing.”

“You don’t seem close anymore.” She ignored the phone and waited.

“Aren’t you going to get that?”

“Answer me first. Your dad will get it in the office.” The phone stopped ringing just

after she’d said that.

“We’re fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Mom, I have to talk to you and it’s not about me and Sam. I’ve applied to Blackwell

College, and I got accepted. I’m going in January.”

“That’s short notice,” she said, her eyes widening.

“I’m sorry.” I’d expected anger, but instead she smiled. “You’re not upset?”

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“Honey, I know you don’t like this stuff. We’re hoping you’ll go off, discover other

things, then want to take it on later. Your dad and I have got a few more years. Now, I don’t

want you to be alarmed, but the last time your father was at the doctor, the doctor told him

to slow down.”

“Dad’s okay?”

“Yes, but you know how young Grandpa was when his heart gave out. Just like his

father, your dad has put everything into this business.”

I nodded.

“Since you’re leaving, we’ve decided to make Sam manager, if you don’t mind.”

I smiled. “Good move. Sam deserves it.”

“He knows every aspect of the business, and we trust him. He’s great with the

customers. I could leave him in charge and not worry. That way, your dad can take some

time off when he needs to.”

“Have you told Sam?”

“We were waiting to see what you’d do. Now that we know, we’ll tell him today.”

“I’m going,” I said. “I’ve already told Casey, and I put my reply in the mail this

morning to the school.” I’d done it before I had the chance to change my mind.

“Where will you stay?”

“With Casey. He’ll have an empty room next term. His roommate is graduating.” I

squeezed her arm when I saw the worry lines form on her forehead. “I’ll be fine.”

She hugged me. “I know. You’ve always been independent. Had to be.”

“I’m going to go and help those ladies put the lights on the new Christmas trees,” I told

her.

“Looks like they could use a hand,” she smiled.

* * * *

Casey came home a few days before Thanksgiving. He just walked into the hardware

store unannounced with a big grin on his face. When I saw him, I let out a shout and went

running down the aisle towards him. I jumped on him and practically knocked him over. We

hooted and howled like we were kids again. “Casey! Damn. When did you get here?”

“Just now. Couldn’t wait to see you. Where’s Sam?”

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“In the back.”

He looked smart in his calf-length camel coat and brown silk scarf. My parents came to

say hello and he shook hands with my father and kissed my mother’s cheeks like he was

some posh European. The ladies at the register were eyeing him curiously. Casey had always

been the handsome boy-next-door type, with his light blond hair and dark blue eyes. He

glanced around. “So, where’s Sam? Will you go and get him?”

I hadn’t told Casey anything about Sam and me, nor had I mentioned that we weren’t

really friends anymore. As far as Casey knew, we were still the three musketeers. “Okay,” I

said. “Sure.”

I heard my mother ask Casey all kinds of stuff about school as I took off to find Sam.

The delivery door was open out back and I shivered a bit from the cold as I walked through.

Sam was checking off the boxes as the driver carried them inside. “Sam?”

He glanced at me.

“I need you a moment.” I lifted a hand to the driver. “Hello Randy. Can you give us a

second?”

“No problem,” he shouted.

Sam came towards me. His shoulder-length hair was tied back and he had thrown on

his red ski jacket. “What is it?”

“Casey’s here.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Oh, great. Don’t let him leave. I’ll come and say hello when I get

a moment.”

I lowered my voice. “Do you mind if we don’t drag him into all this?”

“Drag him into all what?”

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be. He’s expecting us to go out with him tonight

I’m sure. I don’t want to explain why we…you know?”

He nodded.

“Sam. Help me here.”

“You want to pretend nothing has changed? Fine. I’ll play.”

“Sam, it doesn’t have to be like this. Let’s be friends again. Look, I’m leaving after the

holiday. I don’t want it to be like this between us. I’m so happy you’ve been made manager.

You deserve it. I don’t want this for myself. Are you going to punish me because of that?”

“I’m not punishing you, Tristan.” He shook his head. “I’m releasing you.”

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Something inside me broke. Tears smarted in my eyes and I swallowed, turning away

so he wouldn’t see. “So, we don’t need to…”

“Casey won’t have to know anything.” He gave me a tight smile. “Tell him I’ll be right

there. Almost finished.” He turned and walked away.

I’m not punishing you, Tristan…I’m releasing you.

“What in hell’s wrong with you?” Casey asked me as I came walking toward him. “You

look like your dog just got run over.”

I forced a smile. “Sam is really anxious to see you. He’ll be right out.”

“Your mom told me they’ve made him manager.”

“Yeah. He’s really got the store into shape.”

“Better Sam than you,” Casey laughed.

I nodded.

“So, are we going to paint the town red tonight or not?” Casey declared. “Not much of

a town to paint but…” He paused. “Is that Sam?”

I turned and watched Sam stroll toward us. “Yeah. That’s him.”

“Shit. He looks different. I’ve only been gone a few months. I never realised…” He

trailed off.

“Casey!” Sam came over and gave him a bear hug.

“You look great. Congratulations on the job,” Casey said. “Look at us—the three

musketeers together again.” Casey drew me in for a group hug. I looked at Sam. He looked

away. “So”—Casey released us—“where do we go tonight? I was just saying to Tristan that

this town isn’t much of one to paint, but we could paint it red.”

Sam laughed.

“Can we talk about it later?” I asked. “You going to be home? I’ll call you.”

Casey looked from me to Sam. “You guys are going out with me tonight?”

“Of course,” we both said in unison.

When Casey left the store, Sam and I went our separate ways.

Later, the three of us hit the town bar, played some pool and drank beer. Casey spoke

about old times and Sam and I laughed, but it was hollow, uncomfortable. It hurt. It hurt like

hell to relive old memories and know that things would never be like that again.

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Casey drank a lot more than we did. By midnight, he was roaring drunk and insisting

on going to some strip club on the highway. Sam rolled his eyes at me. Casey wouldn’t take

no for an answer.

Sam drove while Casey rattled on in the back seat about pussy. “Haven’t had any good

pussy for ages! What about you fellows, any hot pussy ‘round here?”

I muttered something. Sam didn’t even bother commenting. Then Casey blurted out

something that shocked the hell out of us. “Either of you ever had cock?”

There was total silence. Casey pulled himself up on the seat and leaned into the front.

“Come on, guys. I’ll come clean. I had a guy suck me off in the city. Damn, could he give

sweet head! Ever had a cock up your ass, Tristan?”

“You’re drunk, Casey.” Sam looked at him in the rear view mirror, his voice hard. “You

don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Do you think I didn’t know?” Casey scoffed. “Don’t you think I wouldn’t have liked

some too? Tristan, everyone wanted you. You fucked the girls but it was that football player,

Madison, you wanted to hump. And Sam, you’ve only had eyes for Tristan since you were

old enough to masturbate.”

Casey fell back against the seat. “Find us a cock bar where we can all be happy, will you

guys?”

That was thankfully the last we heard from him that night. Casey closed his eyes and

passed out cold. Sam turned the car around and headed back to town. I tried to find my

voice. “I had no idea,” I finally said.

“Well, you appear to be rather clueless about a lot of things, Tristan.”

“That’s not fair,” I snapped. “You had no idea that Casey was gay either.”

“I don’t think he’s gay at all. I think he feels left out, that’s all.”

“Huh?” I looked at him as if he’d lost his mind.

“You heard me. I think he’s always had a little crush on you but then, who in the hell

doesn’t? Half the fucking school wanted into your pants. It’s a boyhood thing.”

“Mr Expert on relationships,” I muttered.

“Fuck yourself, Tristan…seriously.” He met my gaze intensely then pulled the car to a

halt in front of Casey’s house. “Help me get him out of the car.”

It was snowing and I slipped a bit as I came around the car. “And half the school did

not want into my pants!” I insisted, tugging on Casey’s arm.

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Sam pushed me aside impatiently then hauled Casey out of the back seat under the

arms. With a grunt, Sam flung him over his shoulder. I watched Sam walk up to the front

door with Casey then began to head home. My house was only a few blocks away and I’d

had quite enough of Sam for the night.

I was so lost in thought, I didn’t realise Sam was following in his car until he pulled up

beside me. “Get in. It’s cold.”

“I’ll walk, thanks.” I folded my arms around me and marched on.

“Don’t be an idiot. It’s too cold, Trist, and it’s one in the morning. Come on. Get in. I

won’t say anything.”

I looked at him. “Nothing?”

“Scout’s honour.” He grinned.

“You were never a scout.” I laughed a little. “God forbid.”

“That was nasty.” He pretended to look hurt.

I got into the car. “Nasty, but true. They wouldn’t have let you in the Scouts.”

“You didn’t get in either.”

“I didn’t get in because you couldn’t get in, remember? I didn’t want to go without you.

Casey went.”

Sam laughed. “Yeah…for two weeks. He didn’t want to camp in the woods. Scared of

bears.”

I laughed too, remembering. “Someone told him there were tons of bears there…big

bears. I think it was you.”

“It was me.” Sam nodded. We were laughing so hard, I thought I’d burst. Finally, we

stopped and that silence settled over us again. I love you, Sam. Something hurt inside. I didn’t

want to lose my best friend. “I’m so sorry,” I told him.

Sam nodded.

I reached over and hugged him. Touching him was good, too damn good, and I wanted

more. When his mouth hungrily sought mine, I surrendered. When we broke apart, we were

breathing hard. I slid my fingers over onto his thigh and traced his erection through his jeans.

I met his gaze. “Motel?”

He nodded, pressed the gas and drove. Neither of us said a word. I wanted to feel his

hardness through his jeans again but I knew I’d better wait. If I touched him again, I

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wouldn’t stop. I’d have to have him here and now, and it was too damn cold to fuck in the

car.

There was always a vacancy at the Stop Over Motel on Highway Six, even if the light

was burnt out. Sam parked the car then ran inside the office. A few minutes later, he

returned with the key. “Last one, right at the end,” he said.

I bit my bottom lip as that familiar trembling returned. It felt like the first time, but it

wasn’t. I’d been in Sam’s arms more times than I could count, but somehow I could recall

every moment.

I took the key from Sam as he locked up the car and used it to open the door to our

room. I switched on the light. One double bed with an ugly brown and white comforter

stood centred in the room. On the windows hung curtains that didn’t quite match, and it had

a tiny bathroom beside a bare closet. I threw the key on the nightstand that contained—as

always—a copy of the bible, then took off my coat.

When the door opened and closed, I turned to look at Sam and he was all I saw—tall,

broad shoulders, that chestnut hair of his falling over his forehead. “Where’s the

champagne?” he joked.

I walked over to him and pulled him close. “All I want is you. Sam…?” His name

sounded like a plea on my lips. I guess it was.

He didn’t make me wait. He began to undo my shirt, practically tearing it from my back

before he undid his coat and threw it on the floor. As our clothes came off, Sam manoeuvred

me closer to the bed. By the time we fell on it, all I had left were my pants and underwear,

pushed down to my knees, and my boots.

Sam pulled off the boots then made short work of my clothing. His shirt was gone but

he was still wearing his jeans. I could make out his erection pushing against the denim, and

that was such a turn on because I could imagine myself liberating his cock, watching it spring

free of the material before guiding it up inside me where it would spread me and fill me and

make me scream.

Sam kissed my throat and moved down to my chest. As he licked my nipples I let my

hands feel his muscular biceps and move down his back to his ass. I massaged his buttocks

slowly until Sam moved his mouth over my stomach to my cock.

I placed my hands in his hair as he took me into his mouth. I had an image of all these

men teaching him how to suck cock. I benefited from that experience, but a part of me was

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jealous. I was jealous of any man he’d have or would ever have him. I didn’t want to think

about that. When I left, he’d be free to find another man. Who? Maybe there was no one in

this town. Not fair…not fair, Tristan.

He sucked me slowly and massaged my testicles, but he didn’t want me to come. When

I came close, he stopped. I wanted him so much. I wanted him to fuck me more than I’d ever

wanted anything, but somewhere I’d decided it had to be the other way around. Tonight, I

would have him.

I lifted his head. “You remember you said if I ever wanted you…you’d give yourself to

me?”

He nodded.

“I want to fuck you tonight.” I didn’t let him answer. He sat up on his knees and I got to

mine. I wrapped my arms around him, touched him, kissed him and then released him. “On

all fours.” I was overcome by lust, drunk on it…maybe a combination of alcohol and

testosterone.

“I have lube in my coat,” he said.

“You come prepared.” I felt strange as I said it. I took lube and condoms out of his coat.

“Who were you expecting to meet?”

He had got up on his knees. He was looking at me. “Never know.”

“So anyone will do?” My voice sparked with anger.

“In a fix.”

Silence. I shuffled the lube in my hand. “Like those guys before me?”

He sighed impatiently. “Are we going to do this or not?”

“I’ll make sure you’re ready for me.”

He glanced at me over his shoulder. I ran my hands down his back and caressed his ass.

I smeared some lube on my fingers and began to slick him. He was tight. I hit his prostate

and he made a sound of pleasure in his throat. I smiled, losing my anger. “Feel good?”

“Oh yeah,” he said. “Really good. Go on.”

I slowly fucked him with two lubed fingers until he moaned and pushed his hips

towards me. I closed my eyes. My cock was so hard. I was trembling all over. This was

probably the last time I’d ever possess him. And I wanted him to remember it.

He opened to me as I pushed past the first ring of muscles. He let out a shout as I

pressed deeper. I lost control then. I grabbed his hips and began to fuck him hard and fast,

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pressing his chest to the mattress, one hand moving to his head. I shifted my hips in every

direction, from left to right, up and down then with my heartbeat vibrating in my ears, I

forced myself to slow down. I moved all the way out and back into his body slowly. Sam let

out a scream as his hips tried to connect. I moved halfway out then pushed in to the hilt.

Again I started to hump him faster until we both were moaning and pleading and coming. I

reached around to stroke his ejaculating penis, just to feel it pulse in my fist.

Sam lay flat, his hand also on his cock. I rolled off him, gazing at the ceiling. I wasn’t

sure why fucking him had been so precious or why I was afraid to let him have me again.

I got up to pee and when I returned, Sam was standing naked at the window. “It’s

almost morning,” he said. “What a night.”

“Um, yeah.” I reached for my clothes.

He went to the bathroom then returned. Just as I was reaching for my pants, Sam

grabbed my arm. I looked at him and he moved around behind me. I sucked in some breath

as he pressed his erection against my ass. My eyes closed for a second. His arms wrapped

around me. One hand drew my chin back so that my head was on his shoulder while the

other smoothed over my chest to my stomach, lightly brushing my cock. He did it again—

moved his hand across my nipples then teased my cock, giving it a light brush with his

fingers. His erection was so suggestively near its desired target, I wanted to scream.

His hand held my chin and he inserted one of his fingers into my mouth. The way he

was holding me kept me helpless as again he moved his hand over my chest. This time he

stopped, pinched one nipple then the other before smoothing his palm over them again, back

and forth until they were erect. “Hard, like your cock.” His teeth nipped my earlobe. “Hard

nipples, ready to play.”

I sucked on his finger. He moved it in and out of my mouth suggestively while I bucked

against his erection. It felt like an enormous slab of concrete digging into my ass.

He played casually with one of my nipples for a few minutes then moved down to my

cock. He slid a hand over it then over my balls. I moaned. “Sam.”

“Hmm?”

He moved his hand back up to my nipples again. “I want you.”

“Say it again, say my name.”

“I want you, Sam. Please.”

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I felt a slight slap to my cock, pleasure with the slightest sting. “How much do you

want me?”

“Please?”

His hand moved up to my hair where he grabbed a handful of it. He pressed me over

the bed on my stomach. His knee nudged my thighs wide apart. I gasped as one of his

fingers snaked up inside me and found the pleasure zone. I cried real tears of need. Sam

stroked my erection and fucked me with his finger at the same time. I was panting, groaning,

squirming then he pressed me down on all fours on the floor and delved into my ass with his

hard cock.

I howled but there was no pain. Sam knew just how to fuck me, just how to drive me

wild, and he didn’t disappoint. Our fucking was a mutual dance of lust and passion and

need. He pushed into me and I pushed back. We found the perfect beat and we came

together with a mutual cry that was filled with far more meaning than I cared to investigate.

He held me for a few minutes after then released me.

We didn’t talk. We got dressed and drove home in the light of the dawn. When Sam

pulled up outside my house, he reached over and opened the door for me. I met his gaze. I

desperately wanted to say something but there were no words. I could still feel him inside

me.

When I didn’t move, Sam gave me a smile. It was very faint but genuine. “See you

tomorrow,” I managed.

He nodded. I shut the door and stood on the sidewalk, watching as he drove off.

It was Sunday and I slept until afternoon. I had dinner with my parents. It was

tradition, the day we had always spent together. Casey called around seven. “I had one hell

of a hangover this morning,” he said on the phone. “You okay?”

“Fine.”

“I didn’t say anything stupid last night, did I?”

I didn’t answer for a minute.

“Tristan?”

“No,” I lied, “you didn’t say anything stupid.”

“What’s Sam doing tonight?”

“I have no idea.”

“Want to go and play pool?”

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“Think I’ll pass on the pool. We can meet for coffee at The Diner if you like?”

“No problem. You want to call Sam. Maybe he could—”

“Mind if there’s just the two of us?” I felt guilt saying that but I didn’t think I could face

Sam right now. What had happened between us had been almost earth-shattering. It had

spoken far louder than anything we could have said to each other. The raw need I’d been

reduced to felt almost vindictive on Sam’s part. Maybe it was. Maybe he wanted me to feel as

if I couldn’t live without him. The vulnerability he’d made me feel last night was tainted with

anger and bitterness. My pride was hurt, I guess. I was determined that he would never

reduce me to that again.

* * * *

Casey was relaxed in the restaurant. He was sitting in a booth by the door when I came

in, casually stirring his coffee. “Hey buddy,” he greeted as I slipped into the booth opposite

him.

I smiled and signalled the waitress. She brought coffee. “Want to see a menu?” Her

name was Mills, Veronica Mills, and she never smiled. Her husband was a logger and had a

drinking problem. With three young children at home, I could understand why she wasn’t

inclined to be jovial.

“No, thanks, but I will have a piece of that coconut pie.”

“Sounds good,” Casey piped in. “Me too.”

She walked away.

“Same old Mills,” Casey laughed.

I smiled.

Casey was quiet until Mills brought the plates of pie. After the first bite, he paused and

asked, “Why isn’t Sam here? Feels weird. We’re still the three musketeers, right?”

Were we? “Things change, Case. We can’t be kids forever.”

“You sound angry.” He looked at me. Suddenly I remembered what he’d said about me

last night in his drunken haze. It made me a little uncomfortable.

“What is it?”

I swallowed, drank some coffee. “I’m not angry. I’m looking forward to getting the hell

out of this town.”

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“Can’t believe we’ll be together again after Christmas.” He reached over and grabbed

my hand then released it. “I’ve missed you, buddy.”

“I’ve missed you too,” I said.

Casey leant back in his booth. “So, how long have you and Sam been doing the nasty?”

My eyes widened. “What? What do you…mean?”

“Christ, Tristan. It was so damn obvious last night, it wasn’t funny. The way you two

look at each other, the tension between you. Don’t forget, I know you…I know both of you.”

My eyes closed and I let out some air. “It’s over.”

“Didn’t look over to me.”

“Well, damn it”—I opened my eyes—“it is!”

“Whoa! Can I ask what happened or…?”

“It just happened. I love him. He’s my friend, like you, that’s all. It was a mistake.” I felt

the sharp prick of tears behind my eyes.

Casey said nothing. He fiddled with the napkin on the table. “If I’d stayed here, do you

think it would have happened like that?” He looked at me.

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore except I’m not going to waste away in

this one horse town running the hardware store.”

Casey leaned across the table and lowered his voice. “I’ve done some experimenting at

college.”

“Really?” I didn’t know what else to say.

“I think I might be bisexual. I still like girls.”

“Oh.”

“Help me out here, Tristan!”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I knew that both you and Sam liked boys.”

“Well, you were a hell of a lot more in the know than I was. I had no idea that Sam was

having sex with men when we were younger.”

“Shit. He was having it off with that trucker who delivers for you…what’s his name,

Randy?”

“Sam and Randy?” I should have figured—the way they were always joking around…

“And he used to hitch into Kensworth County every once in a while. There was an

underground gay bar there.”

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None of this really was news. Sam had already told me he had prior experience,

although I wasn’t aware of the details like Casey. It didn’t sit well with me and I didn’t want

to talk about it anymore.

“I went with him one time.”

Now I was shocked. “And you didn’t tell me!”

“You were in your girl stage. We both knew it was a bit of an act but… It was last

minute. You had a basketball practice and…well…I saw Sam with Randy in the truck. He’d

just made a delivery and I saw them kiss. Sam didn’t seem upset that I saw him. I was

curious. He told me about the bar and I asked to come along.”

“They let you guys in, two minors?”

“Randy’s ex owned the place and the police had no idea it existed. It wasn’t likely to get

raided.”

“Why didn’t you guys ever tell me?”

“Sam didn’t want to. I don’t know why. He made me swear.”

“Doesn’t make sense. We told each other everything.”

“I’m sorry if you feel betrayed. It was a long time ago. Forget it.”

I nodded but it was still there—that sense of betrayal. “So”—I cleared my throat—“was

it then you began to think you were into guys?”

“I’d been looking at naked men on the internet, and naked girls. I seemed to be able to

beat off to one or another.”

I’d always thought it was our family situation which had brought us together. Now, I

sensed it was something else.

“I’m flunking out of college, Tristan.”

I blinked. How many other bombs were going to drop on me tonight? “Why?”

“I don’t know. I just can’t concentrate. Too many parties maybe. I think I hate pre-

med.”

“Then change to something else.”

“Dad won’t pay if I do. I’m hoping with you there, I’ll settle down.” He laughed. “You

can crack the whip, so to speak.”

“Right.” I grinned. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you, Case, you know that.”

He smiled. “Yeah, I do.”

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That night when I went to bed, my mind raced. So many things floated in and out,

Casey being bi, flunking his courses, hating medicine…and Sam, always Sam. Why hadn’t he

told me about him and Casey going to the gay bar? He’d always suspected I was gay. All

those years I’d hid my sexuality from my two best friends, and they’d sneaked off to a gay

bar together.

I crawled out of bed and slid back the curtain. I gazed at the moon. Sam. I ran a hand

through my hair then over my chest to my cock. Hard. I was hard. That’s why I couldn’t

sleep. I imagined Sam pulling me back into his arms like he had in the hotel, hands roaming

my flesh, taking me to the edge before impaling me with his cock, holding me hostage to his

passion. Damn you, Sam.

I stroked my cock until it pulsed in my hand, my back slamming against the wall of my

room. I sunk down to the carpet and lingered in the moment, allowing the pleasure to

permeate throughout. And still I saw his face. His smile, his laughter rang in my ears.

* * * *

Sam didn’t say much to me over the next week. We each saw Casey separately a few

times then he was gone, telling us he’d be back in two weeks for the Christmas holidays.

Every time Randy made a delivery, I found myself fixated on him. He was close to

thirty, ruggedly handsome with a closely cropped beard and reddish brown hair. I couldn’t

picture them together. In fact, I refused to.

The store was extremely busy right before Christmas and my mother told me she was

worried about Dad. “He needs to rest,” she said. “He’s overdoing.”

“Why don’t you let Sam run the store over the holidays?”

“It’s a good idea. You’re staying for New Year’s, aren’t you, dear?”

Actually, Casey and I had made plans to leave the day after Christmas. He wanted to

introduce me around campus at a party there New Year’s Eve. “I’ll let you know,” I said.

Day before Christmas, we were all out of lights and decorations. Mom and Dad were

preparing eggnog for the staff in the back. Fifteen minutes left before closing and everyone

was chomping at the bit.

Outside the window, the snow was blowing. It was a blustery Christmas Eve. Mary-

Lou was playing with plastic mistletoe and teasing Sam. I knew she wanted him to kiss her.

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They were counting down now as my father walked over and locked the front door. A cheer

went up and Mary-Lou dangled the mistletoe over Sam’s head and yanked him in for a kiss.

It was a whopper and I wanted to laugh as Sam’s eyes widened a bit when it went on too

long.

Mary-Lou seemed pleased and Sam…well, he was bit dazed. He wiped his mouth and

gave her a polite smile.

My father brought out the tray with the eggnog and we all raised a plastic glass in a

toast. “Happy holidays!”

I moved closer to Sam as the others began to talk about their holiday plans. He was

leaning against the cash register, cup in hand. “We need some rum in that,” I commented.

He looked at me. “Yeah.”

“Thanks for agreeing to run the place over the holidays. My dad is overworked.”

“I’m worried about him,” he said. “He doesn’t look good.”

“I know. I think a good two weeks off will do the trick.” I waited. Sam fell quiet. God,

when did things get this weird between us? “Ah, Casey and I are leaving day after Christmas.”

“So he said.” Sam drained his cup and threw it into the waste basket.

“Are you spending Christmas at your mom’s, or sister’s?”

“Ellen is coming over with the baby.”

“No word from Diane?”

“No.” He pushed away from the cash. “I got to get going. I have to put the turkey in.

Mom’s no cook.”

“Right.” I looked at him. “Sam?”

“Hmm?” He seemed distracted.

I had to say it. It had been bugging me since Casey had told me. “Casey said you took

him to a gay bar a few years back.”

Sam narrowed his eyes.

“He said you didn’t want me to know.”

“Casey has a big mouth.”

“Yeah, we both know that, but why didn’t you want me to know?”

“I just didn’t. Why is it a big issue now? It was a long time ago.”

“I thought we didn’t hide stuff from each other, that we—”

“Tristan, for Christ’s sake—grow up!”

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His anger took me aback.

He softened his tone, smiled a little. “We were kids. Everything changes.”

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“I had my reasons. Let it go. You seem to be able to let go quite easily. Why should this

be any different?”

“That’s not fair,” I replied, reeling a little from that.

“Life never is,” he said. “Merry Christmas, Tristan.”

He walked away, scooped up his jacket and said his goodnights to everyone. He kissed

my mother on the cheek before he unlocked the door and stepped out into the snow. I stood

there feeling a little numb, feeling empty and annoyed. People were leaving. My mother

locked up and I set the alarm while my father went to warm up the car.

My mother hooked her arm into mine as we walked out together that snowy Christmas

Eve. “Are you happy, honey?” she asked me.

I hugged her arm and kissed her forehead. “I’m going to be.”

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Chapter Three

The End

The day after Christmas, Casey and I went to get the bus out of town.

Casey’s father and my parents saw us off. I was filled with a mix of trepidation and

excitement. I told myself this is what I needed. “My life begins today, Casey,” I announced as

the bus headed out of town.

“Of course,” he said, “you’ll love it.”

The town where Blackwell College was situated was about one hundred miles from

where we came from. It was triple the size, but by no means a big city. Still, for someone

who’d come from a small town like the one I’d grown up in, it seemed enormous.

The college was surrounded by internet cafés and quaint little shops. The blocks nearby

were peppered with pubs where one could dance and listen to live bands. Everything was

conveniently located on campus, and the apartment Casey had was right in the heart of it all,

on top of a great breakfast restaurant called Robust.

The students came back in droves right before New Year’s, ready to party. I was

breathless meeting all of Casey’s friends and had never partied so hard in my life. What with

all the socialising, registering for courses and getting my books, I had no time to miss home

or to think about Sam. In fact, I didn’t think about him at all until my Monday evening

American Lit course.

It might have been the colour of his hair or the way he moved, but the guy in front of

me brought the memory of Sam hurtling back big time. When he turned around to ask me if

he could borrow a pencil, my heart sank. He didn’t look at all like my Sam, didn’t have his

smile, or those beautiful blue eyes. My Sam. When had I started to think of him as mine? He

wasn’t.

I got involved in my studies and tried to make Casey put his nose to the grindstone too.

It wasn’t easy. Casey seemed to have no interest in his classes, and he liked to party. One

night, he came in quite drunk. I wasn’t happy at being woken up on a school night at two in

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the morning. “Casey, what in hell is wrong with you?” I snapped. “Don’t you have an exam

tomorrow?”

“Whoops,” he said. He stumbled towards me with a stupid look on his face. “I forgot.”

He giggled a little then sobered. “Tristan, let me sleep with you tonight?”

“No, Casey,” I said. “You’re drunk.”

“You’re beautiful,” he croaked, reaching out and trying to touch me.

“Go to sleep,” I told him, slapping his hand away. Finally, I got him to calm down. He

passed out on my bed so I went to lay down in his. I didn’t sleep. I was wondering how

Casey got to be so miserable, and why he was doing something he hated this much. I tried to

ask myself if I was happy, and I couldn’t quite find the answer. I sighed and cuddled up to

my pillow. I thought about Sam, wondering if he was happy. Maybe in the end, none of us

would be happy. I fell asleep with Sam’s face in my mind.

I called home once a week, but I didn’t ask about Sam. Maybe I didn’t want to know. I

made all kinds of excuses as to why I couldn’t go home, and as winter turned into spring, no

excuses were needed. I was busy studying for exams.

I had sex with three different guys, never more than once, and none of them made an

impression. I know I kept comparing them to Sam.

Casey kept on partying. He overslept and missed his science exam. I had done

everything possible to get him to change his ways, but was unsuccessful. One night, just

before my last exam, I read him the riot act. “What in hell is wrong with you? There’s no

reason for you to be flunking out like this. If you hate your programme, change it.”

He sat up on his bed and put his face in his hands. “I hate my life. I never had any

choice.”

I came and sat beside him. “Casey, talk to your father.”

“I’ve tried.” He looked at me. “He doesn’t listen.”

“My parents wanted me to run the store so badly. I just had to stand up to them.”

“And are you happy you did?”

I hesitated. “I don’t think I’ve found it yet. But I will.”

“Or you left it behind.” He met my gaze.

I stood up. “Sam and I…” I trailed off. “We want different things.”

“You want each other. And I’m jealous as hell.”

I turned and looked at him.

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“It’s always been you, Tristan, for both of us.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“Sam didn’t want you to come with us to the bar when we were kids because I don’t

think he could have dealt with seeing you with another guy. He was crazy in love with you

even then. You just couldn’t see it.”

I threaded a hand through my hair.

Casey reached up and took my hand. I turned around to face him. “I want you to make

love to me, just once. I need to know. I’m desperate, Tristan. It’s tearing me apart, not

knowing.”

“I…I can’t…”

“If it’s with you, the first time, all the way, I won’t be scared.”

“Casey,” I said softly, “I’m flattered but…”

“Please, Tristan.” He pulled me closer, folded his arms around my waist as he pressed

his head against my stomach.

I stroked his hair. “Sex and friendship don’t…I mean… Damn it, Casey, what if I lose

you too? I’ve already lost Sam.”

He looked up at me. “You won’t. I promise…”

* * * *

I avoided going home. I didn’t think I could bear to see Sam. I regretted leaving him. I

regretted so much, but my pride would never allow me to say so. After the term ended, I

took a job serving beer at one of the pubs. I told my mother I was going to take a few courses

in the summer to speed things up. It was no lie. I registered for a marketing course and

intermediate Spanish.

“We miss you,” she said on the phone.

“I miss you guys too. How’s everything at the store?”

“Great. Sam is a Godsend.”

The mention of his name caused me to tighten my hand on the receiver.

“I’m so happy you talked Sam into working for us. He does all the heavy lifting. He

won’t let your father lift a thing.”

“I’m glad.”

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“He’s a nice young man.”

“Yes, he is. Mom, I’ve got to go, okay?”

“Okay, let us know if you need anything. Forgot to tell you, Casey came by today. He

told us he’s not going back to school.”

“I know.”

“What’s he going to do, Tristan? His father is pretty mad at him.”

“I don’t know, Mom. He never really wanted to be a doctor. He’ll find something. Is he

okay?”

“Yeah, Sam took him to lunch.”

I swallowed. “That was nice.” I wasn’t sure why that upset me, but it did. I doubted

Casey would tell Sam what had happened between us. And what if he did? Sam and I

weren’t a couple. And it hadn’t meant anything. It was just sex between friends that had

happened only once. Although Casey had tried to initiate it again several times, I’d said no.

There were no sparks at all. Still, I hoped Casey would keep it to himself and not tell Sam.

* * * *

The summer wore on. A heat wave hit in July, and I didn’t have air conditioning. When

the phone rang in the middle of the night towards the end of the month, I was lying awake in

my bed, sweltering with a fan waving back and forth at the foot of the bed. I peered at the

alarm clock. Two thirty.

I reached for the phone. “Hello?”

“Tristan? It’s Sam.”

It took me a moment to articulate words. It was so good to hear his voice. “Sam. How

are you? I’ve been meaning to—”

“It’s your father, Tristan.”

“My father?”

“He’s in the hospital. You better come home.”

“I’ll take the bus out tomorrow. What happened?”

“He’s had a heart attack.”

“Is Mom okay?”

“She’s with him in intensive care. I’ll take her home when she’s ready.”

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“Thank you, Sam. I…don’t know how to repay you.”

“I don’t need any payment. Just come home.” He hung up.

* * * *

The following afternoon I sat with my father in intensive care. My mother sat on the

other side of the bed, holding my father’s hand. He was on life support. I hadn’t seen Sam

since I arrived. He was busy running the store.

The doctors said there was nothing more they could do for my dad. They took him off

life support at five o’clock, and at ten after five, my father was dead. When my mother and I

walked out of the room at around six, Casey and Sam were sitting in the waiting room.

Sam went to hug my mother, and Casey hugged me. It was telling. The next few days

were taken up by making all the arrangements. Casey accompanied me everywhere while

Sam kept the store going. My mother insisted that it remain open until the day of the funeral.

Half the town turned out the following Saturday to pay their respects. They all said

what a ‘good man’ my father had been. I stood at the gravesite after the others had moved on

and I looked down at the coffin. “I’ll miss you, Dad,” I said. He’d been a man of few words,

but I knew he’d loved me.

When I heard movement behind me, I wiped my eyes and turned around. Sam stood

there, dressed in a navy blue suit and matching tie. I hardly recognised him. He didn’t have

his messy haircut anymore. His eyes were filled with tears as well. “I’m sorry about your

dad,” he said.

I wanted him to comfort me. I wanted him to hold me. I just didn’t know how to ask

him. “You going to tell me he was a good man?” I cleared my throat.

Sam looked at the ground. “He was good to me. I never had a father.”

“He was off hunting treasure, remember?” I made an attempt at humour.

Sam nodded silently, a slight smile on his lips. “Right. Wonder if he ever found any?”

“He missed the greatest treasure. It was right here.”

He nodded. “Thanks. What are you going to do now?”

“I’m going to stay, help mother with the store.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You never wanted that.”

“What choice do I have?”

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We began to walk away from the grave together.

“Must be something better out there, something you were trying to find. Did you find

it?”

I looked at him. “No.”

He looked away and walked towards his car. “Want a lift?”

“I want to walk. Tell Mom I’ll be there in a few minutes. I guess I need some time

alone.”

Sam got in his car. It was a new one, red and sporty.

I started down the road. He passed me on the way but didn’t stop. He knew me. He

knew that I needed my space.

A half hour later, I felt able to face people at the reception. It was at the house, and

people brought food and their condolences. Sam’s mother and sister came, and Casey’s

father stopped by. A lot of the local business people hovered around, and my father’s sister,

Aunt Donna, was there.

My mother looked exhausted but she was holding up. She’d always been the strong

one. I sat down beside her later as the crowd thinned, patted her hand. “Don’t worry, Mom,

I’m staying.”

She looked at me. “Why? You have your school. Sam is here. He’ll help me.”

“Sam is not your son,” I said.

“I know, but…”

“I’m staying,” I told her again.

She smiled.

I scanned the room for any sight of Sam. He was standing near the window, talking to

Doris and Mary-Lou. Casey came over and sat nearby. I smiled at him.

My mother got up to say goodbye to a few people and Sam came over to me. “I’m going

to drive Doris home.”

“Thanks,” I said.

He looked at Casey. “You want a lift too?”

“No, I’m staying.”

“You don’t have to,” I told Casey.

“I want to.”

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Sam walked away. I watched Doris hug my mother at the door then Sam embraced

Mom for a long time before they left.

After my mother went up to bed, having taken the sedative the doctor had given her,

Casey and I cleaned up. When we’d dumped the garbage and finished the dishes, we

flopped down on the sofa, side by side. Casey put his arm around me. “Are you all right?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“Are you sure you want to run the store?”

“It’s my heritage. My grandfather built the business from scratch. My father put his

heart in it. He loved the place.”

“Do you love the place?”

“It’s mine,” I said. “I think I can make peace with it.”

Casey fell silent.

“What are you going to do?”

“My father gave me a job at the clinic. I’m doing the books.”

“Not cooking them, are you?” I grinned.

He nudged me. “Very funny.”

“Casey?”

“What?”

“Did you tell Sam what happened between us?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Why would I?”

“Just wondered.”

“What would it matter anyway? Sam has a boyfriend now.”

My mouth opened. I guess I must have looked surprised, because Casey gasped. “You

didn’t know?”

I shook my head.

“He just transferred here from somewhere else. He took Doctor French’s office.”

“He’s a dentist?”

“Yeah. He seems nice, name is Jarrod Wellington.”

“A dentist?”

“You’re not jealous, are you?” Casey narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

I stood up. “Of course not. They’re not living together, are they?”

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“No. They just started seeing each other. Sam moved out of his mom’s. He took the

apartment over The Diner.”

I walked to the window. “Great. He never said anything.”

“He hasn’t had the chance, what with the funeral and all. Tristan”—Casey put a hand

on my shoulder—“are you in love with Sam?”

I shook my head. “Of course not. Why don’t you go to bed, Case? I’m going to stay up a

bit longer.”

“Okay,” he said. “Try to sleep.”

* * * *

The next day when I was at the store, I found myself just standing around watching as

Sam took charge. It was a large hardware store, the only one for miles around. We sold farm

machinery, and even animal feed, along with the regular tools and stuff. It was amazing how

easily everything went. The place ran like clockwork and I knew Sam was responsible for

that. He had a style all his own. Instead of being pleased, I resented it. I felt alienated and

useless, and of course Sam was not overly friendly. That didn’t help things. His quiet

politeness made me want to scream.

I sat in the office behind the desk and needlessly shuffled papers, and yes, I sulked.

When Sam came into the office and started to scan the desk, I barked at him. “What do you

want?”

He kept his cool. I wondered if anything could shake it. “Did you see the invoice for

Regents Trucking?”

“You mean the company that your sex instructor drives for?”

He looked at me then. “What?”

“Randy, isn’t it? Isn’t he the one who taught you how to suck cock?”

“What in hell is wrong with you?” There. I had him.

I stood. “He did a good job. You must have been a really good student. Studied hard?”

“I have no time for this now, Tristan.”

“I’m the boss, so you’ll make time. You come in here and think you can just take over?”

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“There was no one else to take over! What do you want from me? You want to run

things, fine!” He threw up his hands. “You find the invoice. The driver is waiting with his

truck out back.” He walked out and left me standing there.

I realised that Sam had a system. I’d moved stuff on the desk I shouldn’t have. I also

knew that what I’d said to Sam was way out of line. He’d been good to my parents, possibly

even saved the business. I walked out of the office with the intention of swallowing my pride

and apologising, but when I got to the front of the store, I noticed Sam talking to a young

man. He was athletic and handsome, in his late twenties. I stiffened. This was obviously the

new dentist in town.

I hung back, waiting for the dentist to leave. Sam turned and looked at me. I met his

gaze. “I can’t find the invoice.”

“Did you move the papers?”

“Guilty.” I smiled. “I’m sorry…about moving the papers. I just feel…out of it.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He walked past me.

I followed, watched as he searched for the bill. “So, new dentist in town, eh?”

“Yep.” He didn’t look at me.

“Are you in love with him?” The question fell out of my mouth before I could stop it. I

held my breath.

He looked at me. “Why? You want to pick up where we left off, Tristan? No one else in

town with a hard cock?”

“That wasn’t very nice.”

He held up the bill. “Found it.”

I put my hand out as he walked by. “I don’t want it to be this way.”

“Then let’s make this about business. I’ll catch you up, if you like, so you’ll know what

needs to be done.”

“I’d appreciate that but…” I took a breath. I wasn’t about to let him get away without

addressing the real issue. “Why can’t it be like it was before?”

“Things change, Tristan. Look, I’ve got to give the bill to the driver. He’s waiting and

he has other places he needs to be.” He waved the bill at me and left the office.

That night I went back to the house and ate a quiet meal with my mother. She told me

she was ready to come back to the store.

“Are you sure you’re ready?”

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“I can’t handle sitting around here doing nothing.”

I hugged her. “It will be good to have you back.”

That night, I crawled into bed and my eyes remained wide open. The sudden terrible

realisation that I was in love with Sam, and that he was the only man I wanted to be with, hit

me like a ton of bricks. It felt as if my heart was shattering into tiny pieces as I lay there alone,

without him. I’d gone elsewhere looking for something. I wasn’t sure what that was anymore

and I know longer cared. My life had been here all along. My love had been here all along.

I cried bitter tears. I imagined falling at Sam’s feet, begging him to forgive me, to love

me again. I’ve been a fool. Please. Take me back. Take me into your arms and make love to me. Sam. I

love you.

I cried myself to sleep that night, and awoke determined to create a harmonious

working relationship between Sam and myself. Even if I’d have to give up on the dream of

being with Sam, at least we could be civil.

I threw myself into my work, let Sam show me what had changed since I’d been gone

and hoped he wouldn’t hear how loudly my heart was beating whenever he was near.

Casey knew I was miserable. It was only with him I let it show. One night as we sat in

the local tavern drinking beer, he asked me, “Why don’t you tell Sam how you feel?”

“What good would it do? He’s with that dentist all the time.”

Casey laughed.

“What?”

“You say ‘dentist’ like it’s some kind of disease.”

“I never did like dentists.”

“Especially when they’re fucking the man you love.”

I closed my eyes.

“Swallow your pride, Tristan, and tell him before it’s too late.”

“What do you mean?”

“That dentist is not going to let go. He’s playing for keeps.”

I met Casey’s gaze. “What if Sam doesn’t want me anymore? I throw myself at his feet,

and he stomps all over me? No.”

“It’s up to you,” Casey said.

* * * *

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The weeks went by and the Christmas season was coming up. We were busy as usual,

stocking the shelves and decorating the store. Our window display drew a lot of people. It

was beautiful. Although I tried, I just couldn’t feel the season. When Sam came in around

lunch and asked to speak to me, I was on the phone. I waved at him to sit down. When I

hung up with one of the suppliers, I sat back in the chair and smiled at Sam. “What’s up?”

“I want to take my vacation during the Christmas holidays.”

“Oh, okay,” I said. “You have plans?”

“Jarrod invited me to go with him to Switzerland, skiing.”

“Wow. Switzerland?” I pretended to be reading something. I didn’t want him to see the

expression on my face. I had a feeling it was quite transparent, a mixture of hurt and anger.

“It sounds serious between you two.”

“So,” he said, ignoring my question, “is it okay or…?” He stood.

“Sure.” I could scarcely breathe. “You’ve earned it. I can look after things. I have no

plans.”

“Good.” He turned to leave.

“Sam?”

He turned. “Yeah?”

I wanted to beg him not to go, tell him I loved him, that I’d do anything if he’d forgive

me and just take me back. “Nothing. I’ll come and help you with the rest of the lights in a

bit.”

“Thanks.”

* * * *

I spent a miserable holiday. It didn’t help that it was the first one without Dad. My

mother wasn’t at all into it either. I couldn’t stop thinking about Sam and his dentist doing

God knows what in the Swiss Alps. I was in a foul temper and the other employees in the

store kept their distance. I ended up apologising to everyone for my behaviour.

Sam was quiet when he came back to work after the holidays. I realised how relieved

the employees were to see him. They loved his easy-going nature. They loved him. So did I. I

was chock full of love for him. I wanted to ask him about his trip but couldn’t bring myself

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to. I saw him showing some pictures to the others on his cell phone, but he didn’t show me. I

didn’t want to see them. Maybe he knew that.

January went by and so did February. We were well into March, and getting the

inventory in for summer when I heard rumours that Sam and the dentist were looking at

houses together.

My mother was the one who told me. “Jarrod is so excited.”

“Jarrod? You call him Jarrod now?” I was outraged.

“What do you want me to call him, dear?” She laughed. “That’s his name. Which

reminds me, Tristan, you should go for a teeth cleaning. I went last week. He’s a wonderful

dentist.”

“I don’t need a teeth cleaning, Mother, and especially not from him. I thought you went

to Doctor Redding.”

“He’s retired.”

“Oh. I didn’t know.”

“My, it has been a while. I’ll make an appointment for you if you like.”

I just walked away. The last thing I wanted was to be stuck in a chair with Sam’s

boyfriend poking in my mouth.

I spotted Sam standing on a ladder at the end of one of the aisles and stood a few feet

away, admiring the way the faded jeans he wore hugged his ass. I know I shouldn’t have

been torturing myself, but I was kind of transfixed—like a deer caught in the headlights. I

was lost in daydreaming about that ass when I heard him say my name.

I looked up at him.

“The boxes of number six screws down there on the floor…can you hand them up to me

please, Tristan?”

“Right, sure,” I said, picking up the box. As I handed it to him, our hands touched. It

made my flesh tingle. Maybe I should go to Sam’s dentist, just out of curiosity.

“Sam,” Doris called out, as she came out of the washroom, “I got the number of that

house Jarrod wanted.”

He glanced down at her. “Ah, thanks. Just put it somewhere where I can find it.”

“No need,” she replied, “that hunky dentist of yours just walked in.”

“Fine, give it to him,” he said, placing the box on the top shelf.

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Doris went scurrying to the front to greet Jarrod, and I stayed there, waiting for Sam to

come down off the ladder. When he reached the bottom, he gave me a curious look. “What?”

“Are you really buying a house with that guy?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Maybe. Needs dusting up there.”

“The dentists’ idea, to buy a house?”

“He has a name, you know.”

“I know. Jarrod, then. Do you really want to?”

Sam didn’t answer. Instead he raised a hand to Jarrod as he came walking towards us.

“Hey, hot stuff.” He smiled at Sam then turned and nodded at me. “Hello, Tristan.”

I nodded at him. “Hey. I’ll leave you to it,” I said, then walked off into the office. A few

minutes later, a knock came on the door. “Come in.”

I was surprised to see Jarrod standing there. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure, I guess.”

He came in. “It’s Sam’s birthday next week.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I want to have a surprise party for him, and of course invite you and Casey.”

“He doesn’t like surprises much.”

“I know,” Jarrod laughed, “but I want to do something. Anyway, Saturday night at the

country club. Can you get him there?”

I sucked in some air.

“I mean you’re his boss so…” He trailed off.

I’m more than his boss. I’m his best friend. I’m his lover. No…the dentist was right. I was

only his boss, and since Sam knew how to run the store even better than I did, I was barely

that. “I’ll do my best. Did you ask Casey?”

“Haven’t seen him yet.”

“I’ll try. What time?”

“Around eight?”

“See you there.”

I sat back in my chair after he left and thought about this surprise party. I knew Sam

hated that kind of thing. It had to do with something that had happened when he was a kid,

something to do with his father being taken away. He made me promise never to do that to

him. If Jarrod knew Sam hated that, why insist on doing it? Was it that Sam had never told

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him why, or was this dentist the type of guy who thought he knew what was best for

everyone?

* * * *

“He’s not right for Sam,” I told Casey later.

I was surprised when he snapped at me. “For Christ’s sake, Tristan, just tell the guy you

want him, and get a room somewhere.”

“What is wrong with you?”

We were sitting in Casey’s back yard, having a beer. Casey had been weird half the

night. “I’m sorry. I… My dad’s on my back to go back to school, and he’s pushing Liz Sample

at me.”

“Liz Sample?” I wrinkled my nose. “Old Judge Sample’s granddaughter?”

“Yeah, she’s back from college…a genius, skipped a grade or something. Her granddad

is good buddies with my old man. You know what Dad said to me this morning? He said if

you’re not going to make anything out of your life, you might as well marry into a good

family!”

“Casey, just go back to school.”

“No. It’s a waste of time.” He looked at me. “Let’s take off, you and I together. Go

somewhere.”

I shook my head. “Can’t. The store. My place is here.”

“You going to stand around and watch Sam get swallowed up by that guy?”

“You don’t like him either?”

“He’s too possessive. He gets uptight when I go over and hang out with Sam. Wants

him all to himself.”

“Can’t blame him there,” I murmured. I looked at Casey. “How are we going to do this,

get him to the country club Saturday? I kind of promised. You’ll have to do it. Sam barely

speaks to me anymore.”

“Just wonder how he’s going to react,” Casey muttered.

“He’ll play it cool, I suppose, not let on he doesn’t like surprises.”

Casey paused, met my gaze. “The dentist didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

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“What he plans on doing at the surprise party?”

I waited, confused.

“Tristan, he plans to propose to Sam in front of everyone.”

* * * *

I paced up and down outside Sam’s place for an hour. The dentist was nowhere in

sight. I knew Sam was home because his light was on and his car sat outside in the driveway.

The ‘Open’ sign on the diner was out. The place closed at ten on weeknights, and it was

nearly eleven.

I walked down the street and around the corner three times before I pulled the exterior

door open and walked up the steps to the small hallway where Sam’s apartment was.

Boldly, I knocked. When I didn’t hear anything, I turned, ready to go down the stairs

again. This was stupid. Then I heard, “Tristan?”

His voice caught me and held me prisoner. I looked at him. He stood there, the door

partially ajar. He wore only a pair of navy sweatpants, and he looked absolutely delicious

without his shirt. It was all I could do to not race into his arms. Control. I was shaking all

over. “Can we talk?”

“Sure.” He opened the door the rest of the way and left it open for me to come in. I

closed it behind me and walked into his living room. A sofa and an easy chair, a television—

a new one, rather nice—and a stereo…that was all that adorned the room. “What’s up?” He

plunked down in the chair.

“I need to talk to you about…” I looked around. “Drink. I need something. Can I have

some water?”

He got up and walked to the small galley kitchen. I watched as he took some water out

of the fridge and poured me a glass. “It’s a little late,” he said, handing it to me.

I drank it down in one gulp. “I know. I’m sorry. I…poor Casey.” I walked around,

clutching the empty glass. “Have you spoken to him lately?”

“His dad is being a pain.”

“He wants him to marry some girl.”

“Tough when he’d rather marry you.”

I turned to look at him. “Get real.”

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Sam shrugged. “He’s got a thing for you, didn’t help that you slept with him.”

I almost hit the floor. “God, he told you?”

“Didn’t have to.” Sam went to sit in the chair.

“He’s not gay. He likes girls.”

“He’s bi.”

I sat on the edge of the sofa. “Anyway,” I said miserably, “it didn’t mean anything.”

“Maybe not to you.” He looked at me. “It meant a lot to him.”

“I love you.” I raised my head.

“I know.”

“No, you don’t know, God damn it.” I stood. “I really fucking love you. I should have

never left here. I never found anything or anyone who could make me feel the way you do.

Sam… Jesus, I ache. I miss you so fucking much.”

Sam had no time to respond. I didn’t let him. I grabbed his face between my hands and

kissed him passionately. I pushed him backwards and we went stumbling across the room,

hitting the wall. I expected a fight. I didn’t get one. He wrapped his arms around me and

pulled me into his embrace. He kissed me so hard he was bruising my lips, and I assaulted

his mouth in return as we battled to get our clothes off.

It was intense, even brutal. We fell over shoes and pants, and I grunted as Sam

slammed me into his dresser near the bed. I didn’t care if I was bruised and battered. I didn’t

give a shit if I couldn’t walk in the morning. I wanted him—his lips, his tongue, his cock—

and I wasn’t interested in waiting.

We didn’t speak. Our gazes locked and our chests heaved. We sounded almost feral,

like two animals about to mate. I hit the mattress on my back. Sam lifted my legs over his

shoulders and for a moment, I expected his cock to slam up inside me, but it didn’t. Instead,

he lowered his head and pressed his forehead to my shoulder then soft lips moved against

my ear to my throat. He laid tiny kisses there then licked my chest. His hand grasped my

hard cock and he gave it a gentle squeeze. “God, I’ve missed you,” he groaned. He moved a

finger around my anus as he continued to fondle my cock. “I can’t…” he moaned, “I can’t

hold on. I have to…”

The first stab of his cock inside brought tears to my eyes. Pain and joy swirled together,

causing my eyes to close. I sighed as he grasped my hips and went deeper, then let out a cry.

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Bliss. Heaven. Sam. The three were exactly the same. “Oh yes,” I breathed. “Fuck me, fuck

me, baby. I love you. Oh Sam, I love you.”

We re-established that fucking rhythm as though it just came naturally. We belonged

together. I knew it. I guess I’d always known. The pace hastened then waned, then sped up

again. We cried, we hollered and we rejoiced as we came almost at the same time.

Sam moved away as soon as he’d come. I almost died when he got out of bed. “So, it

was a just a fuck?”

He didn’t answer, just peeled back the curtains and looked out the window.

“Going to tell the boyfriend?”

“You should go.”

“I can’t. I can’t move. It’s been some time. It was like the first time. Sam?”

“What do you want from me?” He turned and looked at me. “I wish I could hate you,

Tristan. It would be so much easier.”

I sat up. “Hate me?”

“You made me the happiest guy in the world then you left me, like everything we had

meant nothing to you. Now that I’ve found someone who loves me, you work your way back

into my bed.”

“I notice you didn’t say you love him.”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, it matters, Sam. You love me.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

“I am sure. Just like you know I love you.”

“You broke my heart.”

“Forgive me. I made a mistake. He’s not for you. He’s an ass.”

“He’s not an ass.”

“Are you going to marry him?”

“Marry him?” His voice rose.

I knew I wasn’t supposed to say anything. “Forget it. You’ll find out.” I got out of bed.

“What can I do? You want me on my knees?”

“I want you to leave.”

I nodded and went in search of my clothes. Tears filled my eyes and spilled down my

cheeks. I’d lost him.

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He stood at his bedroom door, looking at me. I buttoned my shirt. “I’ve lost you. It’s my

fault. I would give anything for you to forgive me, to love me the way you did. I’m sorry,

Sam. I’m a fool.” I tore open the door and ran down the steps.

* * * *

I called in sick on Saturday. On the phone, I told Casey, “You have to get him to the

country club. I’m not going.”

“Why not?”

“He’s going to say yes.”

“No, he’s not.”

“I can’t bear it. I’m sorry.” I hung up.

I stayed in bed all day. My mother came up to see if I was okay. I told her to stay away.

“I think I have the flu.”

“You’re not going to Sam’s birthday?” she asked.

I buried my face in my pillow and cried.

A few minutes later, I felt her hand on my head. “Honey, Jarrod is not for him.”

I sniffed and looked up at her in surprise. “Mom, what are you…?”

“I know you love Sam. It breaks your heart to see him with Jarrod. He loves you,

sweetheart, deep in his heart. When you left here, he was crushed.”

I looked up at her.

“That boy sobbed in my arms just like you’re doing now. You broke his heart.”

“I told him I was sorry. I don’t think he heard me.”

My mom sat on the bed and hugged me to her. I cried there in her arms for a while.

When she released me, she said, “Don’t give up. Come to the party. Fight for him if you want

him.”

I wiped my eyes. “Okay.”

* * * *

Casey was bringing Liz Sample to the country club. He called Sam for a lift, saying his

car wasn’t working. Sam agreed to act as chauffeur.

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I waited anxiously with the others in the hall of the club. Jarrod was strutting around

making sure all met his specifications. I saw him open a tiny box and show it to a few people.

Sam was surprised by the party all right, and, as I had suspected, not overjoyed about

it. At the first opportunity, after speaking to a few people, he went off to the bathroom. The

dentist was busy preparing whatever his proposal scene was going to be, and I went in

search of Sam.

He stood at the sink. He’d splashed some water on his face. He looked upset. “Sam?” I

came in and closed the door, sliding the lock across. “You okay?”

“How could you let him do this, Tristan? You know I hate it.”

“I had no say. I tried to tell him.”

“My mother was having a party for my fifth birthday when they came and took my dad

away to jail. It was a surprise. It was all a fucking surprise.” He closed his eyes and I saw the

tears course down his face.

“Sam, oh Sam, baby,” I said, turning him around and pulling him close. “I’m so sorry.”

I wiped his tears.

He moved away. “It’s okay.” He wiped at his cheeks. “I need a drink.”

“He’s going to propose.”

“What?” His eyes widened.

“Jarrod. He’s going to propose in front of everyone out there. I tried to tell you before

but—”

“Good God.”

“You don’t want to marry him, do you?”

“How could he do this? I told him last week I didn’t intend on moving in with him.

Now this!”

“You did?” My face brightened. “Last week?”

“He’s too clingy. We don’t like the same things. I couldn’t see myself living with the

guy.”

I hugged him.

He frowned at me. “Don’t get too excited, you.”

I smiled faintly and backed off. “Okay.”

He smiled back. “Stop it.”

“What?” I could have danced in the street.

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“Doesn’t mean I’m going to run back to you.”

“Okay.” But I still couldn’t stop smiling.

He gave me a shove. “Get out of the way.”

I laughed, let him unlock the door. “What are you going to do?”

“Stop him before he embarrasses himself, and me.”

I had done the right thing.

Sam took the dentist outside into the parking lot. I watched from the window in the

back. There was some anger, some pleading on the dentist’s part, then he got into his car and

drove off.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

When Sam came back in, he looked upset. I wasn’t going to gloat. I went over to him “If

you need to talk, or anything”—I paused—“call me.” I pecked him on the cheek. “Happy

birthday, buddy.”

I handed him the card I’d bought and a small box. “Don’t worry,” I said when I saw

him stare at the box, “it’s not a ring, but”—I met his eyes—“I’d buy you one in a heartbeat if

you wanted me to.” I couldn’t say much more than that. I took a look at Casey, who was

dancing with the judge’s granddaughter, and left by the side door.

The ball was in Sam’s court now. I’d swallowed my pride and told him how I felt. I

could only hope he still felt the same. I had bought him a gold chain with a small heart

attached. It was mine. I figured he’d know that.

* * * *

I lay in my bed, but I didn’t sleep. I listened to the ticking of the clock. When the phone

rang, I stared at the time. It was after midnight. I picked it up. “Hello?”

“Meet on the fire escape at Mom’s.”

My heart hammered against my ribs and I sprang up in bed. “Sam?”

The receiver went dead. I threw on my clothes then raced down the street to the old

apartment. His mom hadn’t made it to the party. She’d had to work. I walked around to the

back of the building and saw Sam sitting there on the step. “Are you all right?” I asked him.

He moved over and made a place beside him. I sat down.

TOPPLING PEDESTALS

D.J. Manly

www.total-e-bound.com

“Yeah, you?” It was so quiet, the stars were shining brightly overhead, and the moon

was full in the sky. “That night,” he said, “the first night we made love, the moon was full

like that.”

“Was it?” I smiled. “I don’t remember the moon.” I looked at him. “I only remember

that I couldn’t take my eyes off of you that night.”

He reached over and placed a hand on my thigh. I placed my hand over his. “I’ve been

so scared that if I took you back, you’d leave again. I don’t think I can live through that a

second time, Tristan.”

I pressed my face against his shoulder. “I won’t ever leave you. I promise. Do you

believe me?”

He lifted my chin and kissed my mouth. “Yes. I do.”

In the moonlight, he kissed me. Then we went down the fire escape and into the

building. He used his key. We walked down the long hallway to his old room. He drew me

inside and lay me down on the bed. He took the longest time undressing me. Then he

caressed and kissed every inch of me.

It didn’t matter where the future would take us, whether we’d still be here in this town

running the hardware store or if we’d be somewhere else. Wherever life took us, I knew we’d

be together. Sam was my best friend, my lover, and he’d always be both those things to me. I

wasn’t willing to give up one thing for another.

I looked into his eyes and stroked his hair. “I love you.” I fingered the chain he wore

around his neck, the one I’d given him for his birthday.

“I love you,” he told me.

“You have my heart.” Tears filled my eyes.

He kissed my nose, took my hand and placed it on his chest. “And you have mine.”

Back to the Beginning

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About the Author

I write not only for my own pleasure, but for the pleasure of my readers. I can’t
remember a time in my life when I haven’t written and told stories. When I’m not
writing, I’m dreaming about writing. Eroticism between consenting adults, in all its
many forms, is the icing on the cake of life but one does not live by sex alone. The
story of how two people find love in spite of the odds is what really turns me on.

Email:

DJ@djmanlyfiction.com

D.J. Manly love to hear from readers. You can find D.J.’s contact information, website
and author biography at

http://www.total-e-bound.com

Also by D.J. Manly

Schism

Gladiators: House of Simeon

Gladiators: House of Phineas

Gladiators: House of Nicolaus

Gladiators: The Next Generation

Sins of Summer: Mayze

Sins of Autumn: Hail Storm

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IF COME

A.J. Llewellyn

www.total-e-bound.com

Dedication

In memory of my beautiful dog, Venus,

who sat waiting patiently for walks as I wrote this and every other book.

Writing is just not the same without you, my smiley Aphrodite. xxx

www.total-e-bound.com

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following
wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Bookworm: PopCap Games
Diner Dash: Big Fish Games, Inc.
Facebook: Facebook, Inc.
Viceroy: Viceroy Hotel Group
MTV: MTV Networks, Inc.
Paramount Pictures: Paramount Pictures Corporation
Writers Guild of America: Writers Guild of America, West
Movie Database: IMDb.com, Inc.
Evian: Danone Waters of America, Inc.
Office Star Big and Tall Deluxe Leather Chair: Office Star Products
Hugo’s: Hugo’s Restaurant
The Ghost Whisperer: CBS Studios, Inc.
Moonlighting: American Broadcasting Companies, Inc.
The Ghost and Mrs Muir: Twentieth Century Fox
Universal Pictures: NBCUniversal
Lexus: Toyota Motor Sales, USA
Hannibal Lector: Strong Heart Productions
Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life: Anne Lamotte
The Artist’s Way: Julia Cameron
The Art of Creative Writing: Lajos Egri
Botox: Allergan, Inc.
Lenny’s Deli: Lenny’s Deli Of The Palisades
Glee: Twentieth Century Fox Television, Inc.
Modern Family: Twentieth Century Fox Television, Inc.
Mark’s Garden: Mark’s Garden
The Woods: The Woods
Band-Aid: Johnson and Johnson
Roosterfish: The Roosterfish
Biltmore: Biltmore Hotels and Suites
My Big Fat Greek Wedding: IFC Films
Craigslist: Craigslist
Bricks and Scones: Bricks and Scones
NeuroSonic: Neuro Drinks
Hummer: General Motors Corporation
Warner Brothers: Warner Bros. Entertainment, Inc.
Match.com: Match.com, LLC
Realtor: National Association of REALTORS

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“How can I find my way in this impenetrable darkness? How can a few words from a psalm
that I say upon waking be all I need to begin again, after I have been worn down to almost
nothing by acedia?

Personified as the noonday-demon, acedia was once considered one of the deadly sins.
Acedia is a danger to anyone whose work requires great concentration and discipline yet is
considered by many to be of little practical value. It is that feeling that afflicts almost anyone
who is forced to commit to a certain kind of repetitive, undervalued work such as marriage,
monastic life, and writing, especially poetry.

Acedia prompts us to ignore our current work, and often to daydream about the greener
pastures elsewhere. Often it is acedia that urges us, for no good reason, to fantasise and
brood over circumstances in which we will be affirmed and admired by more stimulating
company.

Whatever the place of our commitment—a monastic cell, a faith community, a job, a
marriage—well, we are better off just walking away… How could we ever have imagined
that we might find self-fulfillment in this place, among these demanding people? The church
choir is incompetent; my colleague talks too much about her children; my wife doesn’t
understand me…”

-Kathleen Norris, Acedia and Me: A Marriage, Monks, and a Writer’s Life.

IF COME

A.J. Llewellyn

Chapter One

Zam Carmarthen entered the lobby of Longshore Films, immediately enchanted by the

huge black and white photos on the wall of long-ago shipping days. He took in the close-up

images of handsome, rugged stevedores unloading massive pallets on weathered-looking

docks. He felt the strong pull of attraction to a couple of the men, shirtsleeves rolled high on

their arms. He studied them as he adjusted his messenger bag from one shoulder to the

other.

Man, I gotta be hard-up, fantasising about men who’ve probably been dead for years…

He tore his gaze from the images on the walls and sauntered over to the row of

youthful-looking assistants manning a shiny bank of desks against the far wall. They all wore

black and had this season’s de rigueur hairstyle. Gamine. Even for the men. He felt

hopelessly unfashionable with his dark, curly hair, well-worn jeans, vintage plaid shirt and

the suit jacket that had seemed like such a groovy idea at the thrift store. Nevertheless, he

swallowed over the lump in his throat and pressed forwards.

Business must have been slow or else the three assistants just didn’t give a toss. Each

held a portable device in their hands. One man was playing Bookworm, the other was

playing Diner Dash. The third and only female assistant, God help them all, was rapidly

exchanging text messages with somebody. Zam jumped in between her manic rounds with

dangerously hyperactive thumbs and kept his tone breezy.

“Good morning. I’m Zam Carmarthen, in to see Jack Kilgrove.”

She ignored him, fired off a quick text response and then looked up at him, faint

annoyance etched into her features.

“Sorry. What was that?”

He repeated himself. “My appointment’s at ten,” he added. It was now five after. She

glanced at a huge nautical clock on the wall and seemed about to gripe at him for being late.

Zam sensed an immediate problem. He glanced down at the assistant’s desk. He had a

horrible feeling Jack Kilgrove wasn’t even here. He had heard every excuse for executives not

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A.J. Llewellyn

showing up to meetings, but this usually happened after lunch, not at ten a.m.—the

Hollywood equivalent of the crack of dawn.

Executives cancelling meetings happened to him a lot more than he cared to admit to

his friends and family. Being a struggling screenwriter in Hollywood sucked. After turning

out a screenplay that had become a mildly successful comedy, he’d been ecstatic to find he

was inside the business of Hollywood. It got him meetings, a few extra Facebook

friends…but not much more. He was sinking into a depression. Fast.

The assistant flicked another glance at the wall clock. He could almost read her mind.

She couldn’t use lunch as an excuse. “I don’t have you down here,” she said, finally.

“Yes, you do. You called me at eight-fifteen this morning. You’re Sophia, aren’t you?”

She blinked a few times, as if trying to remember.

“Ah, um…yes.” Her head tilted at an odd angle. “Wait. I called you?” She seemed

reluctant to put her cell phone down on her desk. God forbid she should miss a text message.

She swivelled her chair towards an obsolete desktop computer. She pecked away with her

free hand at the keyboard.

Without turning to look at him she said, “I didn’t call you. I called Cam Cameron.”

“Zam Carmarthen. That’s me.”

“Are you sure?” She looked flustered. For the first time, her cohorts glanced up, both

men looking appalled.

“Yeah, I’m quite sure. I’ve had a few decades to absorb the shock of having such an

unusual name.”

“Zam Carmarthen.”

“Yes, that’s me. You asked me to come in at ten. And here I am.”

“Wait,” she said, using both hands to fan herself as her cell phone rang. “I remember

now.” She looked so pleased with herself.

How lucky for both of us. He smiled, willing himself to remain in the zone. Pitching had

been the last thing he’d expected as a writer. Nobody had told him that being a writer in

Hollywood involved acting. It took a lot of rehearsal to perform a story pitch. He’d timed it to

the required eight minutes. If he began to fret or cave into self-pity he’d forget his rhythm.

Man, this is so not how I thought it would be once I sold a screenplay.

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He and the assistant stared at each other. What the fuck? What do I say? Why is she just

looking at me like that?

He thought once he’d sold a screenplay, he’d be on his way. He’d envisioned a better

apartment, a nice desk and an upgraded computer. He’d write like a speed demon and his

agent would chomp cigars and call him on the phone telling him his work was being fought

over. Zam had discovered—the hard way—that selling a screenplay involved the writer

showing up to meetings looking like a million dollars, entertaining the heck out of some

dumb-ass creative executive as they liked to call themselves…and, almost always, nothing

coming of it.

“Should I take a seat?” he asked when Sophia seemed to have forgotten about him. She

glanced down at the now vibrating cell phone that appeared to be her lifeline. She frowned.

Again.

“Oh. Yeah. Sure.”

The other assistants actually cut astonished looks in her direction. Never mind. Zam

beamed at them all. He would kill them with kindness. Today’s idiot assistant could easily

turn into tomorrow’s top film executive. They would remember the smallest slight and

harbour a grudge forever. Besides, he’d turned thirty just two days ago and knew he was

practically an old man in the film business.

He was competing with so many young film students, he reminded himself, he was

lucky to even have a meeting after seven weeks of…nothing. In Hollywood, five was the

premium age.

Zam sauntered over to the sofas lining the opposite wall, eyeing the stevedores pictured

across from them. How ironic that the images depicted were of back-breaking labour, yet the

three assistants sitting in the room were goofing off. He wondered, not for the first time, why

he’d desired a career in film. In LA nobody appeared to appreciate talent and hard work.

Dumb luck, social networking and a credit card that could spring for endless rounds of

cocktails at the Viceroy spoke volumes.

Selling his screenplay had been exhilarating until he’d learned that it had been turned

over to another, more established screenwriter to completely rewrite. Why do they tell writers

their screenplay is wonderful and then change everything? He thought about this as he took a seat

on an orange leatherette sofa that was about as comfortable as a bed of nails.

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He’d sat at home reading about the progress of Snakes and Ladders online and in the

weekly trades. His screenplay had been bought by MTV studios on the Paramount Pictures

lot and he’d been shocked when the first writer had been replaced and a second one brought

in. The months turned into a year and then the second writer was dumped and an actor-

director came on board.

Another year slipped by and, though he’d received the industry standard of seven

thousand dollars in his ‘step deal’—which meant that, with every step the project took, he’d

get another payment—he was still on the first step. Nothing moved. He’d been in agony

wondering what to do next, hoping he’d get the chance to do any necessary rewrites himself.

His agent seemed unwilling or unable to get him the opportunity, urging him to write

something else. He’d tried. Meanwhile, Zam kept working his day job, waiting for the project

to take off so he’d get paid. He had finally got some money when the studio reverted to his

original screenplay and with a lot of intervention from his agent he was allowed to rewrite a

draft himself. It had been confusing, with eight sets of conflicting notes from various

executives.

And then had come the kicker.

Dominic Glass.

The mere thought of the man’s name could make Zam’s blood pressure spike. He took

careful breaths as he waited on that orange sofa, trying to appear nonchalant as he shifted

around in an effort to get comfortable.

His agent had helped him through the wilderness of ‘development hell’, as people in

the film industry called it, only to tell him that the studio had hired yet another writer to

overhaul the screenplay. Dominic Bloody Glass—otherwise known as The Script Doctor.

Zam liked some of the one-liners the other author had thrown into the screenplay, but

was pleased that it was essentially still Zam’s screenplay.

And then…a shock.

Dominic Bloody Glass had filed a claim with the Writers Guild of America for sole

writing credit. Zam had fallen apart, urged by his agent not to fight it. Instead, his father had

helped him by steering him towards a high-powered entertainment attorney who had since

become a cherished friend. Mike Bluestein had assured him he had an excellent case and

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A.J. Llewellyn

would win. Zam had been forced to go to arbitration through the WGA for the right to keep

his name on his own screenplay.

It had been a harrowing experience. He’d won, but Dominic Bloody Glass had won, too.

They’d shared the writing credits, and, mysteriously, Dominic had won all the kudos for the

entire witty screenplay.

Zam still bore crippling emotional scars from the experience. And now he was here,

ready to swim with the sharks once more.

Did he really want to?

He owed his newfound confidence to his father’s new girlfriend, the TV star Estelle

Adair. She had been the one to coach him on his pitch for his latest idea, Angel Inn. Zam

shifted again on the sofa and waited. The assistants didn’t glance at him once. He could hear

the faint music of a computer game. And waited some more. He was depressed. Yep. No

doubt about it. He’d busted through the despair that had accompanied Snakes and Ladders’

success. Dominic Bloody Glass had hired a PR person and had stolen all of Zam’s thunder

during the crucial publicity tour.

Dominic was a good-looking, apparently successful author. He’d doctored over a

hundred screenplays and made his living that way. A quick check of the Internet Movie

Database proved to be eye-opening. From what Zam could tell, the man worked nonstop,

juggling several TV and movie projects at any given time. From the interviews Zam had

read, Dominic Bloody Glass had sold only one original screenplay and somehow fallen into

the lucrative field of script doctoring. In the last five years, he’d never actually sold another

screenplay. He made his living off the backs of other writers. Zam had been relieved and

grateful when the WGA had ruled in his favour, even though they’d insisted both writers

should get credit.

Both men had been in the arbitration meetings and he had seen the fury crossing

Dominic’s face. His blond hair perfectly framed startling blue eyes that showed every

emotion as far as Zam could tell, since their gazes had locked a few times. Dominic’s dislike

for Zam had been palpable. Zam had felt intimidated by the other writer’s apparent hatred

and, on the few occasions they had both shown up for public events for the movie, they were

polite but distant with one another.

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A.J. Llewellyn

Zam knew he wasn’t unattractive, but there was something about Dominic that

screamed sensuality. He radiated a sex-godliness, a swaggering confidence that really

bugged Zam.

Michael Bluestein had taught Zam a lot about the business. For example, Zam had had

no idea that he and Dominic Bloody Glass shared the same agent. No wonder she had urged

Zam not to fight the screen credit! Zam would be damned if he walked off letting someone

else win all the praise for his ideas, his hard work and endless sweat over that screenplay.

Dominic had punched up some of the dialogue. Admittedly, he was a funny guy, but damn

it, he had not rewritten the entire thing.

His agent, Lucy Lane, hadn’t attended the arbitration. Both writers had shown up with

attorneys who knew each other well. It had turned into a bit of a pissing contest, actually.

And, although on the surface it had appeared that Zam had won, unfortunately, Dominic

Bloody Glass seemed to be getting a lot of traction thanks to Snakes and Ladders. Zam had

been to pitch meetings preceded by the man and had encountered him waiting for an

executive as he left other meetings. What Zam got was sleepless nights over his one idea that

he nursed like a sickly infant. He lived in fear of selling his second screenplay only to have

Dominic crash in on his party like an unwelcome, drunken uncle.

He could hear Estelle in his head, reminding him to relax, to feel strong. It started to

work.

Dominic won’t wreck my day. Not this time. Today I feel a change coming. Today I feel good. I

have my pitch down… He swallowed, his throat feeling dry. Another writer stepped into the

office and got marginally better treatment from Sophia than he had. The other guy was even

offered a bottle of water. Catching Zam’s eye, Sophia turned and asked him if he wanted ‘a

water’ too.

“Yes, please.” Zam relaxed a little. He grasped the chilled Evian with both hands and,

after wrestling with the idiot-proof lid, guzzled it. He kept running over the beats of his pitch

for Angel Inn in his mind, trying not to think about the conversation he’d had with his father

the night before. His dad, a Realtor, had suggested the idea for Angel Inn to him and Zam

had loved it. His depression had made it virtually impossible to write notes and he’d

struggled to do so. Lucy had loved the idea and set up the meeting after a night ‘on the beer’,

as she’d called it, with Longshore Films’ chief executive, Jack Kilgrove.

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His father had told him he needed to get rid of Lucy. But Lucy loved Zam. She said so.

She’d apologised for Dominic’s involvement in the screenplay process but said she’d never

dreamt it would wind up in arbitration. Colin Carmarthen was a protective father who’d

done some homework—he had talked to Michael Bluestein and discovered it had been a

huge conflict of interest for Lucy to allow Dominic Bloody Glass to rewrite Zam’s work.

“It’s not illegal but highly unethical,” his father had said. “She should have protected

you.”

But Lucy was a Hollywood agent and money was her best friend, not her authors. Now

that she’d landed this hot, early morning meeting for him, he figured she was trying to make

amends. He was grateful now that he’d been unable to land another agent. Lucy wanted him

to succeed!

Zam started to feel better about things when he heard male voices from one of the

offices beyond the bank of assistants’ desks. A door opened on the side and out stepped two

men. Zam stared.

One of them was Dominic Bloody Glass.

The two men glared at one another as the beaming executive accompanying Dominic

raved to him, “Lucy said you’re the brightest star in her solar system. Don’t worry. I’ll be in

touch.”

Holy crap on a sesame bagel. Lucy submarined me…again!

The executive glanced over at Zam and his million-kilowatt smile dimmed a tad.

“Zam?” he asked. As Zam nodded and shuffled forwards, extending his hand, he

caught a whiff of Dominic Bloody Glass’ expensive aftershave and took note of his all-black

clothing and blond, closely cropped, stylish haircut.

I hate Dominic Bloody Glass and his perfect bloody hair! The bastard…why does he have to be so

damned handsome?

Inside Jack Kilgrove’s office, Zam wondered briefly what Dominic had pitched and if

they had discussed Snakes and Ladders. He took a seat in one of the leather chairs across from

Jack’s desk and his Office Star Big and Tall Deluxe Leather Chair on the other side. He knew

which make and model the chair was since it was Zam’s dream chair. Its price tag of three

hundred dollars was more like a nightmare.

I bet Dominic Bloody Glass can afford to buy one!

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A.J. Llewellyn

He heard Jack moving around the office and cast a quick look over his shoulder. The

executive must have had a breakfast meeting with Dominic, because he was scooting up the

remnants of a Hugo’s takeout box and wrappings.

Dominic Bloody Glass gets breakfast. And I get to…wait. I can’t believe it’s ten-thirty. I sat on

that sofa like a doofus whilst that bastard…arrrghh!

Zam worked hard to keep his emotions in check. He wanted to do well. He wanted to

win. He was sick of fighting the melancholy that kept him in isolation—that rendered him

immobile some days.

Jack tossed the refuse into his waste basket. Zam caught a whiff of scrambled eggs and

his stomach started to rumble.

Oh, spiffing! Oh, great. What’s wrong with me? How come I didn’t get the breakfast meeting?

“So,” Jack said, picking up a toy pistol and firing it. It sounded like a real gun. The

sound rattled Zam to the core, except that the fake weapon shot a parachutist into the air.

The little green plastic figure floated to the carpeted floor, its parachute crumpling beside

Zam’s right foot.

“Isn’t that a gas?” Jack asked. “Dominic gave it to me. He and I collect toys.”

“Yeah, a gas,” Zam said. He tried to look like having a gun fired at the start of a

meeting was normal. He plastered a smile on his lips.

Oh, God. I’m starving.

Jack shot another parachutist into the air. This one crashed to the floor without the

parachute ever opening.

That would be my luck for sure.

Jack seemed wholly uninterested in talking to Zam. That much was obvious.

“Lucy tells me you have a terrific idea and that it actually came from your father.”

This surprised Zam, that Jack was coming straight to the point, but in his experience

he’d learned that the long-winded, chummy pitch meetings didn’t always guarantee a sale.

“Yes, that’s true.”

“Did he come up with the idea for Snakes and Ladders?” Jack asked.

Zam warmed up to the studio executive. The fact that he even realised that Zam had

come up with the idea for the movie and not Dominic Bloody Glass made him feel better

about being here.

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“Actually, it was an idea that came to me when I was working for my father,” Zam said.

“Oh, that’s right. You have a background in real estate.”

Zam nodded. He went into autopilot. It was almost…unreal that Jack was giving him

the perfect segue into his new story pitch.

“My father and I worked together for about five years and the idea for Snakes and

Ladders came to me when I was showing a wonderful house in Beverly Hills to an actress

who’d moved out here from New York. She was pathologically afraid of snakes and we went

up to look at the attic of the house and it was filled with snakes and ladders. Live snakes and

miniature ladders.”

Jack laughed dutifully. “I had no idea it was based on actual events.” His focus seemed

more genuine now. His gaze fell firmly on Zam’s face. Zam prayed to all the gods and

goddesses everywhere that the executive would go for Angel Inn.

“My father was recently left a wonderful house in Cambria, on the northern coast of

California. I’m not sure if you know that the town is alleged to be haunted by seamen who

drowned in a shipping accident there about a hundred years ago.”

“No. I heard it’s kind of a boutique hotel type town with lots of art galleries and

bakeries.”

“Oh yes, it has all that too and some of the most wonderful old Cape Cod style houses

that go back to the eighteenth century. Well, my dad had a client he bought and sold houses

for over a number of years. Her dream was always to turn it into a bed and breakfast facility,

only she never got around to it.”

Zam took a breath. The executive looked riveted.

“My father is not a fanciful man, but he went up to get a look at the house and he kept

hearing squeaky shoes.”

“Squeaky shoes?”

Zam nodded. “He thought somebody else was in the house. It had really fallen apart

and he called me and asked me to go up there and I did. It’s a beautiful house, but it needs a

lot of work. Outside, it’s gothic looking and detailed. Inside, it’s a mess. He asked me to walk

around with him and I swear to God I heard the squeaky shoes, too.”

“Who was it?” Jack gripped the edge of his desk, staring at him.

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“We have no idea. We think it’s a ghost. Angel Inn should be a TV series. We already

have Estelle Adair interested in playing the lead.”

“You do?” Jack looked impressed. “How did you do that?”

“She tried to buy the property from my father. They fell in love and now he wants to

restore the house to its original splendour, but we feel it should be part of the series. We

should shoot it there. Our idea is this. Angel Inn, which by the way is the actual name of the

house, is a halfway house between the dead and the living. This out of work actress inherits

the property and wants to sell because she’s flat broke, only she discovers, unlike the

previous owner, that she sees and hears the dead.

“Squeaky Shoes is a very pompous Englishman who died wearing shoes that still hurt

him—”

Jack burst out laughing.

Good! Great! He’s getting it!

“And the actress keeps the house, the spirits in there convincing her that she needs to

help the dead cross over by making amends with the living.”

“It sounds too much like The Ghost Whisperer,” Jack said.

Zam had already expected this. “No.” He shook his head. “This one is funny and it’s

centred around the house. The portal is one of the bathrooms. Ghosts come and go through

the toilet.”

Jack laughed. “Hey, I like that. I can just see unsuspecting guests taking a leak and

some dead guy walks through the wall.”

“Exactly. The gimmick is that we see lots of guests at Angel Inn, except we don’t know

sometimes which ones are living and which are dead.”

Jack stared at him. “So Estelle Adair would be playing a struggling actress?”

“Right. Who hasn’t been getting work but starts to land jobs, thanks to Squeaky Shoes

showing up at all her auditions. He is making sure she has enough money to hang on to the

house, fulfil her passions, and, of course, let the dead make amends with the living. He

slowly starts to emerge to her. And they start to form a relationship, but, of course, he’s dead,

so there’s tons of sexual tension but they can never be together.”

“Oh my God! It’s like Moonlighting meets The Ghost and Mrs Muir!”

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“I couldn’t have put it better myself.” Zam got ready to roll out the big punchline as he

opened his messenger bag.

“We think this could be potentially hilarious, with rich movie stars rubbing shoulders,

unknowingly, with crusty, dead sea captains and young maidens prowling the widow’s walk

on the top floor balcony, waiting for their men to come back from the sea.” He kept his

fingers crossed as he said, “We didn’t know the name of the house until Dad and I followed

the sound of the squeaky shoes into the garden. I swear we could smell men’s cologne and

we followed it. It got stronger and stronger until, there in a mess of weeds and dandelions,

Dad found this.”

He reached into his bag and handed over the photograph that he hoped would clinch

this deal for him.

Jack stared at it, confused. “It’s a bunch of broken stones.”

“Yes. And Dad and I turned them over. We realised there was writing on the pieces. We

cleaned them off, put them together and got this.”

He handed over the second photo.

Jack gaped at it. “My God. It says, Angel Inn.”

Zam waited a beat. “Squeaky Shoes.” He said it the way Estelle had told him to say it,

with reverence, and, as she had put it, a kind of hush. It worked.

“I fucking love it. Have you got anything on paper?”

Zam said he did.

“And Estelle wants to do it?”

“She’s ready and waiting. She’s excited about it.”

“Do you have photos of the house?”

Zam handed over the three remaining photos he’d shot with his father’s expensive

camera—reserved for high-end houses he listed in glossy magazines. The photos were

gorgeous. Zam knew that. He saw the wheels turning as Jack studied them.

“I can almost hear the squeaky shoes. Who do you see playing him?”

Zam smiled. “Any charming, debonair actor will do.”

Jack went crazy. “Can I keep these photos?”

Zam declined. He’d already copied the photos onto a large piece of paper and handed

that over, retrieving his originals. Jack seemed happy enough. Zam needed to hang on to the

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originals in case he needed to go out to pitch to another company. Besides…he’d learned the

hard way never to leave anything with a studio executive unless it went through his agent. If

Longshore Films ever got the notion to steal his idea, he had protection if Lucy submitted

them with an identifying letter she would, of course, keep on record.

“I’m going to call your agent and have her send me the synopsis,” Jack promised.

“You’ll be hearing from me, Zac.”

Zac. He tried not to feel discouraged that Jack had got his name wrong. He shook hands

with the executive who was still staring at the photocopy in his hand.

Outside the Longshore Films office, Zam blinked into the bright sunlight. The studio

office, one of the old bungalows on the Universal Pictures lot, was a long walk from the

parking area. It gave Zam time to call his agent from his cell phone to report the meeting,

which was the way these things went. She took his call immediately.

“Awesome,” she said when he told her he was cautiously optimistic. “It’s a good sign

you were in and out so fast. Fuck. He’s on the other line, babe.” She ended the call

unceremoniously. He didn’t take offence. He knew this was a crucial call. He reached his car

and called his father.

“How did it go?”

Zam told him the news.

“He’s already on the phone to her? That’s a good sign.”

“Yeah.” Zam didn’t tell his father that he’d seen Dominic Bloody Glass in the office. He

would just worry.

His father had an open house day for a property listed high in the Hollywood Hills. In

spite of the tough economy, there was avid interest in this house, listed at three million

dollars. It had once been owned by the convicted killer Charlie Rathbun, and Zam was keen

to see it. He felt such anxiety about the outcome of his meeting with Jack Kilgrove, even

though he knew it might all come to naught, but still, he couldn’t help himself. He longed to

be successful. He loved to write.

“Come and hang out with me,” his father said. He must have taken Zam’s anxious

silence as a lack of interest. Before Zam could respond, his father added, “I have bagels.” A

pause. “And smears.” He loved the creamy toppings.

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Zam smiled into the phone. “You had me at bagels, but you know about me and

smears.” His father chuckled. “See you soon, Dad.”

The traffic heading along Los Feliz Boulevard was light and he enjoyed the luxury of

being in his three-week old car where everything worked. It was a relief not having to baby

the vehicle along in case it overheated or the engine exploded. His father had talked him into

buying the Lexus and Zam had realised he’d never driven a brand new car before. It still

smelt new and he loved it…even if he worried about the monthly payments.

He arrived fifteen minutes later, making a left on Chislehurst Drive, a sumptuous, leafy

canyon street in the heart of the expensive Hollywood Hills. He smiled as he caught the

familiar sight of his father’s signs along the road pointing to his open house at the top of the

mountain. Colin Carmarthen's success was, Zam decided, due to the food his father always

laid on for his viewings.

Zam found parking out front, sweeping past the black and white balloons tied to the

wrought iron gate intended to attract potential house buyers.

It was amazing how Charles Rathbun, an automotive photographer, had done well

enough in his career to afford a three-bedroom, hundred-year-old French country style house

in Hollywood. It had changed hands twice since Charlie had gone to prison. The house had

become notorious several years ago when Charlie had been arrested for the rape and murder

of the aspiring model Linda Sobek. Inside his home, detectives had discovered numerous

photos of other women. Some had been found alive, some had never been identified.

However, the authorities still believed he was a serial killer though they had no evidence to

tie him to eerily similar homicides to Linda’s.

Once he’d been convicted for life, some brave but frightened women had talked about

how he’d lured them to his home and how they had fled because something about him had

been ‘just not right’.

Zam entered the house and was surprised how nice it felt. He got no chilly sense of

foreboding.

Man, even a kooky killer can afford nice digs… Me, I’m such a loser!

He tracked down his father in the kitchen, helping a beautiful young woman smear

cream cheese on a bagel. There were six different kinds of smears on display and dozens of

bakery goodies. Zam chose smoked salmon and slathered it on half an onion bagel before

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taking a tour of the house. He was intrigued by the red monk’s room, a huge selling point for

the property. Some of the old Hollywood houses had these. They were windowless rooms

where travelling monks could stay as they came up from Mexico on horseback in the

nineteenth century. Many had been persecuted for religious reasons and could hide in these

tiny rooms, resting until they felt robust enough to travel again.

Charles Rathbun had had less…altruistic intentions for this room. He’d tried to rape

several women in it. All had managed to escape. Zam stood, looking at the four walls,

wondering about their secrets. He almost passed out when he made his way back to the front

room again and saw the guest book.

Dominic Glass.

Fuck! What time was he here? Zam saw that Dominic had jotted the time next to his email

address. Three other visitors had passed through that day, including the woman he'd seen in

the kitchen. Zam recognised her as TV actress Mitzi Markham. Yep. And there was her

signature. She’d been on the same daytime drama for twenty years and had had so many

facelifts Zam thought she might now be able to whisper in her own ear. Could Dominic

afford such an expensive home? And man…he had just left!

Zam tried hard not to choke on the last bite of bagel and charged off to the kitchen.

“Dominic Glass was here?” he asked his father.

“Who?”

“You know who. The writer.”

His father seemed genuinely perplexed. “Oh, is that who he was? How weird. He was

nice. You always made him sound like a combination of Quasimodo and Hannibal Lector.”

Zam grabbed a cup of coffee from a tray and swigged. God help him. It was true. He’d

always put Dominic down because, damn it, the guy not only seemed to have a bigger career

but he was so sexy. Zam hated to admit he was attracted to the guy. It was sick. Sick!

His cell phone rang. He glanced at the readout. Lucy. He took the call outside.

“Good news!” she trilled.

“What?” he asked. He almost couldn’t bear the tension he felt.

“Well, I think it’s good news. I hope you’ll agree.” She sounded nervous now.

“What?” he asked again.

“Jack Kilgrove is mad about your idea, but doesn’t think Longshore will go for it.”

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“Lucy, you’re so right. That is good news,” he said, unable to keep the sarcasm from his

tone.

He heard her chuckle. “So what he’s offering you is an ‘If Come’ deal.”

“A what?”

“If Come. It’s the hot new thing.”

“Well, what the hell is it when it’s at home?” He felt grumpy and really stupid now.

“It means he wants to produce it and he wants the rights to take the idea and sell it.

And if it comes to pass”—she enunciated these words carefully—“you will get a huge signing

bonus and a very attractive salary package to be the head writer. You’ll have all kinds of

options, credits, points for syndication…you name it.”

“Really?” Could this really be true? Could he be on his way…finally?

“Babe,” Lucy drawled, “if it does come to pass, you’ll never have to worry about

money…ever again.”

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Chapter Two

Of course, there was no immediate payment involved, but the figures Lucy mentioned

were more than generous. They dazzled him, in fact.

“Jack must think it’s going to sell.”

“Oh yes, he does,” Lucy agreed. “Do I tell him yes?”

“Yes. Of course. Tell him yes.”

“Good. I have him on the other line.” She hung up on Zam, as was her way. She was

hot on the trail and, yes, she had given him good news.

He went to find his father, who was still ushering the actress through the carefully

staged house. The staging crew that had handled it was one of the best in Hollywood. The

team members thought of tiny details such as vintage toys for children’s rooms, vintage

copper cookware for the pantry shelves and empty collectible boxes of cereal for the kitchen

shelves. People lingered over some of these items and often asked to have them included in

the purchase price.

“If I buy the house, can I have these antique jaffle irons?” Mitzi Markham asked Zam’s

father.

“Of course you can.” Colin Carmarthen was a consummate salesman. The stagers hated

him selling off their stock, but he always made it up to them.

“You got good news?” his father suddenly asked.

Zam nodded and his father’s face lit up.

“Fantastic! Come down to the pool with us.”

Zam dutifully followed, his head spinning over his deal. If Come, If Come…if it comes to

pass, I’ll be a bloody millionaire!

Mitzi liked the pool area, baulking a little at the water fountains and the rain wall that

had been the height of fashion two years ago.

“It’s a lot of wasted water,” she griped.

“No,” Colin said. “It’s all recycled from a three-gallon well and it even has filters in case

children stick their hands in it. No bacteria.”

“Oh!” She looked so pleased.

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“It’s good feng shui.” Colin gestured to the clay pots that featured myriad succulents.

“The previous owners put these here because they are supposed to bring good fortune.”

Zam knew this was true, because his father had researched the property and spent time

with the owners. He would probably sell the house to the actress. Zam hoped she’d get it

over Dominic Bloody Glass.

He walked around with them, content to be alone in his thoughts, when his cell phone

rang. He checked the readout in case it was Lucy. It wasn’t. It was his occasional fuck buddy,

Jason, looking for a little nooner.

‘Hey, babe…feeling frisky. Want to suck cock. xoxo Jace’

Suddenly, Zam’s hormones shot into the stratosphere. He’d suffered through weeks of

having no sex drive and deftly texted an affirmative to Jason’s proposition.

“You gotta go?” his father asked.

Zam nodded.

“Come over for dinner tonight. Estelle’s place. She’s cooking. I’ll let her know it’s a

celebration.”

Zam hugged his father, feeling a burst of love for the old man as soon as he detected his

old-fashioned but reassuring cologne. He’d been using it since Zam was a kid. He admired

Estelle for not trying to make his father use something more current. He owed Estelle a

lot…on many fronts.

He left his father to the friendly charms of the TV actress and raced out to his car.

He texted Jason back, wondering where the guy wanted to hook up for their hot little

nooner.

“Hey, Jace, your place or mine?”

He started the car and drove towards Los Feliz Boulevard. He lived in Brentwood, in

West Los Angeles. Jason lived in Hollywood. He needed to know which way he should go. If

they were to meet at Jason’s, he’d stick to surface streets. If it was at Zam’s place, he’d need

to make a left and jump on the freeway. He pulled over to the side of the road, keeping his

foot on the brake.

Jason was slow in responding, which surprised Zam. Then he scrolled back through his

text messages and realised Jason had sent several during the time Zam had been in the

meeting with Jack Kilgrove.

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He felt his cheeks flaming as he found the first text.

‘Hey, buddy, got a hot new guy. Wondering if we can use your place for a little nooner. I still got

your key. Hit me up!’

Zam stared at the text. Is he kidding me? He wants to use my place to fuck…someone else?

He checked the time. Ten after twelve. Since he hadn’t responded to the messages

sooner, he assumed Jason had found alternative accommodation. He was so mad at the guy.

Okay, they had a loose arrangement, but still, there were some feelings there. Man, they’d

first met twelve years ago through the LA Weekly personals, before computer dating became

the thing to do.

His phone vibrated. A text message.

‘Cool, thanks, buddy. We’re on our way now. My place is tented for termites.’

Zam almost dropped the phone. He’d texted Jason that he wanted to hook up. Scrolling

back through his messages he realised he’d written ‘Hook-up sounds great. Call me.’

He uttered a scream and called Jason’s cell phone…and went straight to voicemail.

“I can’t believe you’d text me to screw somebody else in my bed!” he shouted into the

phone. “What the fuck, Jace? I know I’ve been a little unavailable but I’ve been depressed

and this isn’t doing much for my ego, pal. Do not, I repeat, do not take anyone home to my

bed!”

Zam swerved back onto the road, realising he hadn’t even checked for oncoming traffic,

and reminded himself to calm down. He turned off talk radio. His therapist had been trying

to help him through his strange ennui, but his WGA health insurance had only covered three

sessions. He’d been forced to give them up. She had been such a nice lady, too, suggesting

self-help books designed specifically for writers such as Bird by Bird and The Artist’s Way.

She’d also suggested a few neuro-linguistic tapes he was supposed to listen to with

headphones in order to open his muse’s stiff padlock on his creative urges. Fuck the

headphones…he needed help. He was about to sink back into a manic-depressive spiral that

could cripple him for days.

Breathe in, breathe out.

His hands shook as he waited at a turn signal for the freeway. He fumbled in the glove

compartment for The Art of Creative Writing. He had paid extra when he’d bought his car to

have a sound system installed on the dash that had an old-fashioned tape deck. Zam

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treasured that one small component because he had a massive collection of tapes and refused

to give them up. He slid the self-help tape into the deck and tried to relax.

“…Every day in every way, my writing is clear and confident,” the narrator chanted.

Zam veered onto the freeway, making the wrong, split-second decision to stay in the

right lane and wound up behind a smog-spewing truck as he tried to recite lines. The

monotonous tone of the words was supposed to create a hypnotic effect, but all it did was set

Zam’s teeth on edge. He pressed the onboard navigation system, trying to find the quickest

route home. He wanted to head off any intentions Jason had of using his place to have his

little lunchtime fun.

The navigation system was state of the art and he thanked God that he’d taken his

father’s advice and paid the extra monthly fees for his subscription to the service. Within

seconds the dulcet, feminine computer voice lulled him in a way the writer’s tape could not.

He turned it off and commanded the navigation system.

“Speak to me, oh lovely lady,” Zam said aloud, surprised by the wild, seemingly

tangential cluster of directions the female voice gave him. He went down to the 105 freeway

then cut through some streets of Los Angeles he’d never known existed. He beat the traffic

to…a dead end.

“Fuck! You bitch!” he shrieked.

“Turn left,” the computer voice kept bleating. He stared at the map on the navigation

screen. Oh…she wanted him to go through an alley. He shrugged and took her advice. He

found himself on San Vicente Boulevard, the street he wanted, and let out a whistle. Wow.

This computer chick was cool!

He veered up to Carmelina, the street OJ Simpson had once lived on until destiny had

frowned on him. Zam then turned up his own street, 5th Helena Drive. At the very end of the

short cul-de-sac, number one-two-three-o-five, was the last place Marilyn Monroe had

lived…and died.

Zam had a picturesque guest house at the back of a property next door to MM’s—as all

the locals called her notorious home. Hollywood freaks showed up here constantly to take

photos of her old white wall and the bougainvillea spilling over its edges.

Shit.

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Jason’s car was in his driveway. He couldn’t even park in his own driveway and,

thanks to the endless fucking parade of tourists, no street parking was allowed on 5th Helena

Drive. He parked on Carmelina and walked up to his house, thinking he’d do some work on

his ever-present laptop. It did a lot of travelling with him, but very little actual work. He had

to change that, now that he had an If Come deal.

He walked through the gate that separated his home from his landlord’s—a wacko

house flipper who’d had more Botox than hot dinners. He had achieved notoriety for his

ghastly temper and got a reality TV show, Hot Prospects, but Will Lassiter was hated by his

neighbours, numerous tenants and the cast and crew of his show. Will liked Zam for some

strange reason. Zam mostly avoided the guy. He already knew Will was out of town at some

design conference…which he suspected was the latest euphemism for a gay circuit party.

Zam hesitated outside his house, hoping he wouldn’t hear the sounds of man on man

action. Dang. Jason was hot and heavy with some guy.

In my sheets!

He resisted the urge to peek through the windows. He’d never been a voyeur. He

walked across the brief expanse of emerald green lawn to his tiny, private yard that

contained a hot tub and a wooden picnic table, two chairs and a chaise Will had provided for

his use.

Wow, he could have used a cup of coffee. He longed to sneak into his house and brew a

pot. Could he do it? Nah…it would be weird. On second thoughts, it was his house, after

all…

He softly unlocked the kitchen door that opened out onto the backyard. The sounds of

sex were still strong, but this was better than entering from the front door. Less chance of

being seen. He moved quickly through the small galley-type kitchen, filled his Italian coffee

pot with finely ground coffee and filtered water, set it on the stove then tiptoed out into the

backyard again.

The weather was balmy and gorgeous. Los Angeles had its problems, but everyone still

came here for the weather. He fired up his laptop. Inspiration was slow in coming. He

opened his document file on Angel Inn. He should come up with ideas for the pilot, since

they would want one to shop to the studios.

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He typed the title. The sun kissed his face. He yawned and stretched. Now he knew

why he never worked outside. It made him too sleepy. He focused his attention on the screen

and typed.

Act One

Opening Tag Scene.

He thought for a moment. He needed a zippy opening to hook viewers before the

opening credits. Listening to the cries of lovemaking drifting from his house gave him an

idea.

A beautiful Los Angeles day. The sounds of lovemaking coming from inside a beautiful,

Mediterranean-style house.

He eliminated one of the ‘beautifuls’, replacing it with ‘stunning’.

Shit. The coffee. He ran inside and rescued the pot before it spewed liquid everywhere.

He was able to salvage half a cup for himself and was about to walk outside when he heard

Jason laughing.

“Dude. I can’t believe you made me feel that way just with your hands.”

A deep chuckle from the other man.

“I’m serious. You just blew my mind…and”—a snort—“other things, too.”

Oh, brother.

Zam took his coffee outside. He sipped at it, glancing at the computer screen. He’d

hoped some kind garden fairy might have jumped up and written a few lines for him, but it

wasn’t to be. He couldn’t stand listening to Jason rolling around with his play pal. He rooted

out his cell phone and sent the guy a text.

‘I need my house. Gotta work.’

His cell phone registered a call. He checked the readout. He was surprised to see it was

the office number for Longshore Films.

“Stand by for Jack Kilgrove,” the male voice said, without so much as a hello.

Stand by and do what…catch him?

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“Hey, Zam,” Jack said, picking up the call, “I’ve been thinking… I haven’t read your

pilot episode yet… Actually, have you finished it?”

“No, I’m halfway through,” Zam lied.

“That’s cool. ‘Cause I’d kinda wanted to talk to you…you know, go over some ideas I

have for the beats in the storyline.”

Here we go… “No problem,” he said aloud.

“Great!”

Zam knew from bitter experience to agree with everything producers, executives and

even their wives had to say about a screenplay. He would say yes to everything and then

write what he wanted to write. None of them could ever agree with each other anyway.

“Your agent emailed me the treatment and it’s pretty good. I like the balance of humour

and mystery,” Jack said.

Uh-oh, this is a bad sign. He’s complimenting me. They always start with a compliment. He’s

about to drop a bloody hammer on me.

“So, I was wondering… Do you have time for a breakfast meeting tomorrow?”

“Sure.” Zam had plenty of time for meetings. He’d typed exactly seventeen words of

the pilot.

“How about Lenny’s Deli—in the Palisades?” Jack asked. “Let’s say, nine o’clock?”

Before Zam could respond, Jack’s voice dropped. “Since I am meeting you on a personal

business matter on company time, I’m going to tell them I’m going to an AA meeting.”

“Are you in AA?”

“Of course not. See you at nine.” Jack ended the call.

Anxiety started creeping through Zam’s system. It bothered him that he was working

with an executive who was lying to his bosses. How secure was an If Come deal, anyway?

He called his attorney, Michael Bluestein, who took his call and barked, “Is this a

personal call or business?”

“Er…business, I guess.”

Michael sighed. “I’ll give you two free minutes. What’s up?”

Zam didn’t skip a beat. “My agent just got me an If Come deal with Jack Kilgrove, an

executive at Longshore Films.”

“With the executive himself or the company?”

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“The executive.”

“Go on.”

“Well, I just was wondering if you’ve heard of those and if I should be excited and

officially climb out of my pit of despair or should I, er…linger here a while?”

“I’ve heard of them and they are potentially very lucrative for the writer. It’s a good

sign if he’s willing to put his name to it and shop it around, but, of course, I’d have to see the

deal memo.”

“Sure.” Zam swallowed down the tense lump in his throat. Michael was expensive. On

the other hand, he’d received a foreign sales residual cheque a few days ago he hadn’t been

expecting—for Snakes and Ladders. It would cover six months of car payments, health

insurance coverage and an hour of Michael’s time.

“I’ll contact that goofball Lucy,” Michael said, “and have her send me the deal memo. Is

there a contract yet?”

“Not that I know of.” In Hollywood, a deal memo was any written piece of paper—via

fax, snail mail or even email—discussing terms for a contract. It always surprised Zam that

many deals went forth on these memos alone before anything was officially signed. They

were considered legally binding.

“Fantastic,” Zam said. “It won’t take you more than an hour to read the contract will

it?”

“Not unless something calamitous happens,” Michael said and ended the call. Nobody

said goodbye to him anymore. Zam tried not to worry about the future. He tried not to fret

about Jason using his bed, bizarre as it was. He stared into his empty coffee cup. Nope, no

inspiration there. He thought back to the night he and Jason had first met. He’d answered

Jason’s ad in the personals. Voicemail was the hot new thing in LA back then and it had been

novel to call and listen to the man’s voice. He’d hung up and called back three times before

striking up the courage to actually leave a message.

Jason had returned his call within the hour. Two hours later they had met for drinks at

the now defunct Red Onion in Beverly Hills. Two hours after that they had been in Jason’s

bed having scorching-hot monkey sex. Zam felt a pang of nostalgia for those days. It had all

seemed so much simpler then. He’d kept some of their answering machine and voicemail

messages for months. Long after their relationship had waned, the puppy-love messages had

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been a testament to the fact that Zam hadn’t dreamt their intensity. Even now he had some of

their old emails on his zip drive. He didn’t even need to read them to remember the contents,

but he rifled through his backup files on his computer and opened them.

Dear Zam, I had so much fun with you. Looking forward to the weekend when we can explore

more of each other.

Oh shit, am I speaking in the plural form already?

Great…
Well, let me remind you that within two days of meeting, you told me I’d be your ideal

boyfriend…it’s saved in my text messages in case you should happen to forget, punk…

I’m usually such an independent guy. I love jumping in my car, and choosing the path ahead of

me, you know?

But somehow I feel a bond with you that builds a bridge to places I haven’t seen before

and maybe we can drive together for a while, and in the carpool lane, so we can get there faster! So
many adventures…

We can pillage and conquer the path ahead of us or just stop and laugh at each other…

Zam could hear the laughter all right…coming from his bedroom. Pleasure from

another man’s touch. He always wrote from pain. Pain had always been part of the process

until pain became just…pain—freezing him, immobilising his thoughts. He read over his

scene introduction again.

A beautiful Los Angeles day. The sounds of lovemaking coming from inside a stunning,

Mediterranean style house.

He began to type, feeling as if his fingers were pulling one by one from thick honey.

Deep breath. Breathe in. Breathe out. Again.

The words began to flow.

The camera pans across lush foliage, settling on an open window. A bedroom. Curtains

billowing. A fuzzy image of two bodies in a state of desperate need, kissing, hugging. The image

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sharpens. It’s two naked, hot men on crisp white sheets in a room that is Spartan in its furnishings
except for a jug of Black-eyed Susans on the dresser. Clothes are scattered on the floor.

The men on the bed are beautiful, hungry…filled with only each other. One is blond, blue-eyed.

Zam stopped typing. He was seeing Dominic in his mind. How tragic that he had the

hots for his arch-nemesis. He decided that whatever muse worked, at least it got him writing.

He began to type again.

The other is dark-haired. They are touching, kissing, licking. We watch them making love…yes,

we are voyeurs. The blond man on top breaks off the kiss, making the other man moan in frustration,

but begins to kiss a path from his lover’s chin down his perfect torso, his tongue roaming down the
treasure trail. The man lying on his back smiles, but there is sadness as well as lust.

There is something heartbreaking about this scene.

We pan to the clothes on the floor.
They are from long ago. Ancient seamen’s garb. The men are really into the moment when the

door flings open and a woman in modern dress looks inside.

HER POV:

An empty room. The sound of lovemaking stops. She frowns. Did she hear it?

Estelle

How weird. This feels like a manly room…

(over her shoulder to a man behind her)
You said my aunt used this as a sitting room…but

I feel…something here. Tension. Passion.

(a beat)
Why do I feel the need for a cigarette when I

don’t even smoke?

End Tag Scene.

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Zam sat back and stared at the screen. Not bad. A little rough. But he could see now

that the two ghostly seamen could become regular characters. He wondered if Jack Kilgrove

would go for it. Hollywood was so deeply homophobic. Glee was a successful show because

it was so overtly camp, but loving, committed gay couples…not too many. There was the

couple from Modern Family…again, a comedy.

To hell with it, he’d keep it. I hope he goes for it.

Zam closed his eyes, his face tilted towards the sun. In his mind’s eye he could still see

that bedroom where Jason had first fucked him. He would never forget the rustic jug on the

dresser. Jason had been an aggressive, attentive lover.

We fucked all over his bedroom. We both got carpet burns on our elbows and knees. I’d love to

see that on TV…ah, maybe not.

He shut down his computer, depressed by his memories, and waited for the laughter

from his bedroom to stop.

* * * *

“Hey,” said a voice. Zam awoke from his reverie. His head pounded a little from

having fallen asleep in an awkward position, not to mention that he was now in full sun.

Jason stood in front of him, reaching out to ruffle his hair.

“Did we keep you?”

“Keep me?” Zam gaped at him. His head and his neck now ached. “You brought

another man to my home!”

Jason was still a gorgeous mix of Pacific Islander and Asian. Just spectacular. He wore

only jeans, his shirt apparently too much for such a body. His lovely, almond-coloured eyes

held a troubled look.

“That really bothered you?”

“What the fuck? Of course it bothered me!” Zam jumped up from the table, picked up

his messenger bag and laptop and stormed into the kitchen, Jason right behind him.

“Zam, you’re being ridiculous. No strings, remember?”

“I’m not talking about strings.”

“What are you talking about then?”

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“I know you fuck other people and I thought we had a don’t ask, don’t tell policy. I

don’t remember anything in our silent contract about fucking other men in each other’s

beds.”

A slow smile from Jason. “Unless it’s a threesome, right?”

“That was a fantasy. Just sex talk…a long time ago. Besides, you didn’t mention a

threesome. You didn’t want me. Just my bed.” Zam’s head felt like it might explode.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was such a big deal.”

“You are such an ass! Who was he?”

Jason smirked, blew past him and picked up his shirt from the floor. Holy fuck. It’s like

my scene…my memories. He’s always been in such a hurry to fuck, he discards clothes on his way to
the bed.

“Does it matter?” Jason buttoned up the shirt. “You want to change our policy now?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. I don’t…I can’t do this anymore.”

A twitch in Jason’s cheek muscle. “Fine.” His eyes glittered with anger.

“I have a question. The first time we made love, do you remember it?”

Jason’s anger gave some room to confusion. “Remember it? Of course I do.”

“Where was it?”

Jason’s expression turned into incredulity. “Are you serious?”

“As serious as a heart attack.”

He seemed to be thinking about it. Jeez!

“My bedroom…in the old Lake Hollywood house.”

“So, you do remember.”

“Yeah.” Jason looked uncomfortable. “So what?”

“Do you remember what kind of flowers were on your dresser?”

“Are you kidding me right now with this?”

“No.”

“I don’t remember. I’ve never bought flowers… Guys…er…people give them to me.”

That was new information. “Give me back my house key. And lose my number.”

“Shit, Zam, you’re acting real goofy.”

“Fuck you! My key!”

Jason ripped it off the ring and threw it across the room.

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Nice. Really mature.

“Have a nice life,” Jason muttered as he turned on his heel and left.

Zam tamped down his anger. He’d needed to end things with Jason for a long time, but

had never expected it to be like this. He walked slowly to the bedroom to retrieve the key

and start removing the bed linens to wash.

He stopped in his tracks when he glimpsed his bedside table.

There, standing proudly, was a bunch of Black-eyed Susans in a vase. They hadn’t been

there when he’d left that morning…

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Chapter Three

Zam’s father and Estelle were agog with the story when he repeated it to them over

dinner that night.

“How did I not know you were such a romantic?” his father asked, wolfing down a

second helping of Estelle’s beef stroganoff.

“I think he’s been seeing you and the other man the whole time,” Estelle said. “Black-

eyed Susans are a speciality flower. I don’t think I’ve ever seen them in a store. Maybe

Mark’s Garden in Studio City sells them.”

“Or The Woods, right here in Brentwood.” Colin Carmarthen slipped into his

professional real estate broker tone. “They have a lot of speciality items for the

discriminating buyer.”

Estelle reached across the table and stroked Zam’s arm. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I just want my one and only. I want what you and Dad have.”

She gave him a sympathetic smile. His father slipped his arm around Estelle’s

shoulders.

“Look how long it took me,” his father reminded him. The look he and Estelle gave

each other made Zam want to shield his eyes. That look spoke volumes.

Zam could never get over how beautiful Estelle was. She had lovely, raven-coloured

hair, blue eyes…and no plastic surgery. She was a natural beauty who wanted to age

gracefully.

“You needed to rip that Band-Aid off a long time ago,” his father said.

Yeah, he knew it. But this one had left a stinging, gaping wound.

“There was a moment—” he suddenly said and broke off his sentence. He hadn’t meant

to speak his thoughts.

“What moment?” Estelle asked, her tone warm and encouraging.

Zam took a deep breath. It shocked him how badly hurt he felt.

“The first moment I met Jason. I knew I was in trouble. I should have walked away, but

I couldn’t.”

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His father stopped nuzzling Estelle for a moment.

“You were eighteen. What the hell did you know? When you found out he was a go-go

dancer I thought you’d leave him then.”

“Yeah.” Zam nodded. “So did I.”

The truth was, he’d become addicted to the sex. He loved Jason in an odd way. Over the

years, they’d been each other’s fallback guy. When Jason had turned to doing gay porn for a

brief stint only to fall heavily into meth and steroid addiction, Zam was the only friend from

the past he’d allowed to remain close as he recovered and closed his door to porn.

He’d returned to dancing and sometimes asked Zam to accompany him on trips. But he

couldn’t. He hated seeing men paw at Jason. He’d lived by the principle that what he didn’t

know wouldn’t hurt him…

In the last few years they’d kept up their friendship, mostly via text, with Jason

constantly flying around the world to dance in clubs. He’d made a fortune, but now, at

thirty-two, surely he’d had enough of such a peripatetic lifestyle? Ah…maybe not.

“I like him,” Estelle said. “I understand the gypsy life.” It was as if she could read

Zam’s thoughts. “Do you remember the time he invited us over for dinner and we got there

and he’d fallen asleep from exhaustion and when he let us in the house there were nine

packed suitcases lined up in the living room?”

Zam remembered all right. That had been two months ago. Jason had always liked

Colin and his various girlfriends, but one night Jason had turned up at Zam’s door as he was

cooking dinner. That had been strange. He never just…showed up. He’d hit it off with Estelle

immediately and insisted on cooking for them the following week.

“Jason has a hectic lifestyle. I wasn’t surprised when he said he never does laundry. He

just keeps buying new clothes and new suitcases. Think about it, sweetheart.” She extracted

herself from Colin’s clutches, leaned across the table again and squeezed Zam’s hand.

“All those suitcases, lined up, waiting for him, as if to be fed. That’s his life. That’s what

he does. He keeps things close to the vest…or, in this case, in a travel bag he rarely opens. If

things get a little sticky with you, he finds someone else. Then he misses you and opens that

suitcase long enough to extract a little time with you, then he’s off to the next one.”

Zam stared at her. It was a fascinating analogy and one he liked.

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“I turned him down the last few times. I think it pissed him off, but I was…you know,

depressed.”

“I remember.” Estelle stood, picking up the dinner plates. “Whatever your arrangement

was, I do agree bringing someone to your home was totally tacky.”

“Thanks,” he said.

Zam felt the sorrowful gazes on his face. In his mind’s eye he pictured the look on

Jason’s face when he’d left. All these years we’ve known each other… There was nothing left to

say…

“But they are such a weird flower to give to someone, aren’t they?” Estelle suddenly

asked as she returned with her coffee carafe.

“I don’t know.” Colin Carmarthen shrugged and slipped into professional mode. “They

are a common flower. A daisy, right? But they live for two years then die.”

Zam and Estelle stared at him for a moment.

“Thank you for that,” she teased. “That’s really depressing.”

“No.” Zam’s father shook his head. “This man is giving him a clear and distinct

message. Nothing lasts forever. Let’s enjoy things while we can.”

She seemed to bristle. “Is that how you feel?”

“No, darling.” He sat up a little straighter and reached up to kiss her. She spilled a little

coffee on her antique tablecloth but didn’t seem to notice. She put the carafe on the table,

melting into his arms.

Zam rolled his eyes. He got up to leave them as things looked like they might be getting

a little…too friendly.

“How is the pilot coming along?” Estelle asked, breaking off the kiss.

“Fine. Great.”

“Can’t wait to read it.”

He nodded. It would take her ten seconds to read the tag and she’d be upset the scene

was mostly about the two men.

“Have fun at your meeting tomorrow,” his father said, his arms closing around Estelle

once more.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she joked.

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“No, I won’t.” He stepped outside into the cool evening air. Los Angeles weather was

changing. Hot days—cold, nice and wonderfully chilly mornings. He didn’t feel like going

home to the flowers by his bed, reminding him that nothing lasts forever. He already knew

that. As a kid, his mother had left him and his father for some guy she’d met at an ashram in

India. She had always been one of those ‘Free Willy’, ‘Free the people’, ‘Free the breasts’ kind of

women. She eventually came back, but things had never been the same. Not after she’d come

out.

She’d kept leaving them, only the last time it was for a woman. She seemed to be happy

now. Fuck. I promised I’d go there for dinner tomorrow night. He checked his watch. Ten o’clock.

By LA standards it was late. This was an industry town where everything closed by ten, since

people got up at three or four to get to the set. The only place that would be open would be

the Roosterfish in Venice. It was the only gay bar in West Los Angeles. It miffed Zam big

time that there weren’t more.

He drove along Abbot Kinney Boulevard, amazed to find street parking a few doors

down from the bar’s bright blue, windowless façade.

Inside the club he paused to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. An Eminem song

pounded over the sound system. He saw dark figures hunched against the walls, a painting

of a naked black man with a massive cock gracing one wall. A group of women hogged the

bar. They must have been drunk because as soon as he walked in they asked Zam if he were

gay.

“Yes, why?” he asked. If they were looking for straight men, they were in the wrong

place. All the guys here were friends of Dorothy…

“We’re romance novelists,” one of them said, apparently finding it difficult to place the

stem of her cocktail glass on the bar. She kept trying and missing, liquid sloshing

everywhere.

He took it out of her hand and placed it on a coaster on the bar.

“You’re awesome,” she crooned. “I write MM.”

“MM?” he asked, thinking Marilyn Monroe.

“Male-male,” she slurred. “Somebody told me all the gay porn stars drink here.”

“Oh…no. That’s Mickey’s bar in West Hollywood and that’s only Thursday nights. It’s

an event called Cocktails with the Stars.”

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“Really?” Even in the near dark, she appeared transfixed. “Lemme buy you a

drinkypoo. They’re so cheap here.”

Yes, they were. Six dollars was the top price for a drink. He agreed to letting her buy

him a greyhound.

She and her friends giggled. Great. Only I could come to a gay bar and pick up a bunch of

women!

Just past the gaggle of chicks, he glimpsed a man giving him a finger wave. Holy crap. It

was Dominic Bloody Glass. Ten seconds later, the man sidled over to him.

Christ. And I haven’t managed to get a sip of vodka into me yet.

The bartender slid him the greyhound.

“Is that a gay drink?” his new writer pal asked him.

“Not that I know of.” Man, she was totally irritating.

“We need to talk,” Dominic said right in his ear.

I don’t know… I think I’ve done very well not having a single conversation with you. Why start

now?

Zam took a sip of his drink. Dominic didn’t budge, so he asked, “Why? What do we

need to talk about?”

“Stuff.”

“Stuff? Well, that narrows it down.”

“Come on, come and sit in the corner with me.”

“I don’t want to. I’m sitting with my friends.”

“Yeah!” the women chorused. “Are you gay? Can I buy you a drink?” one of them

asked.

Dominic arched a brow in Zam’s direction. “Sure. Vodka tonic.”

“Is that a gay drink?” one of them asked.

Dominic’s lips quirked into a grin. “No. A Shirley Temple is.”

Three of the women began jotting notes.

“Interesting friends.” Dominic pulled up a stool next to Zam. Another greyhound

arrived in front of him, but he’d hardly touched the first one yet. As much as he wanted to

get hammered, he had to drive home.

“No more drinks, ladies,” he said. “I’m driving.”

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“Ohhhh…” they chorused. “Nooo…!”

“I don’t hate you,” Dominic suddenly said in his ear.

“What?” Zam almost dropped his glass. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You screwed me out of the sole credit Lucy promised me…but I’m not mad at you

anymore.”

“What the fuck? She promised you?”

Dominic nodded. “Like I said, we need to talk.”

Zam had no idea if Dominic Bloody Glass was telling him the truth, but he had finally

started feeling good about his work and the last thing he needed was to feel crappy all over

again about his agent. He head began to spin. He took another slug of the greyhound. Shit.

He was still sober.

“Look…I think she screwed us both over. I know you had a meeting today with Jack

Kilgrove and I wish you the best with that. I’ve got my own project up and running with

him. I don’t want anything to mess it up.”

“You think I’m gonna mess it up?”

“Well…Lucy said you got an If Come deal with him.”

Fuck! Why was Lucy talking about him? She hadn’t mentioned anything about Dominic

getting a deal.

“What has that got to do with me?” Zam had to keep shouting to be heard over the

music.

“Is this a gay argument?” one of the women beside him asked.

“Oh for corn’s sake…no.” Zam cut his glance back to Dominic. “What deal do you have

going with Jack?” Zam asked.

“A rewrite.”

Fuck. Dominic Bloody Glass was trampling all over yet another writer’s dreams.

“What does that have to do with me?”

Dominic shrugged. “I don’t want you telling Jack bad things about me.” He stared into

his glass. For the first time, Zam felt kinda bad for the guy. How ironic.

“I wouldn’t do that.” No, I wouldn’t. I’ve learned never to bitch about anyone in Hollywood.

Nobody can keep a secret…

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It struck Zam as odd that Dominic would be so worried about anything Zam might

have to say.

“She’s done it to me again,” Dominic blurted, sipping at his vodka tonic.

“Done what?” Zam downed his first cocktail then started on the second. A third one

popped up in front of him.

The women were all over them and, the truth was, they were kind of funny after a little

vodka dimmed the lights of his snob-o-metre.

“He might not think a vodka tonic is a gay drink,” Zam quipped to the women, “but let

me tell you, it’s a totally gay drink!”

Dominic actually laughed. “Dude…nobody drinks greyhounds anymore unless they

are really flaming!”

“Not true.” The drinks kept flowing, but Zam limited himself to three. He was just shy

of being drunk and he couldn’t believe he was talking to his arch-nemesis and actually

enjoying himself.

The women turned out to be very nice, very prolific authors who’d come from some

place in the Midwest for a romance writers’ convention in downtown LA.

“It wasn’t what I expected,” one of them shouted over the music. It had now morphed

into Roxy Music. And oldie, but goodie…Nothing Lasts Forever…boy, was that true.

“What were you expecting?” Dominic asked, leaning across Zam in a familiar way.

“I don’t know,” one of them said.

“I do,” another voice piped up. “This is Hollywood. I thought maybe some movie

producer would storm the Biltmore and demand to meet me and beg me to let him turn my

book into a movie.”

The music suddenly stopped. The small group at the bar grew quiet. The dream

wasn’t…unusual and it wasn’t so far-fetched, really. Stranger things had happened.

“You ever see My Big Fat Greek Wedding?” Zam asked the women. They all apparently

loved it. He waited for their oohs and aahs to die down. “Well, Tom Hanks and his wife Rita

Wilson saw a small stage play here in LA and were charmed by the star, Nia Vardelos. They

asked to talk to her. Nia called Rita that night. The two women got along well and Nia

mentioned she had a screenplay…next thing she knows, she’s on the fast track to getting it

made. And that’s how My Big Fat Greek Wedding happened.”

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“I never knew that story,” Dominic said, finishing his drink. He grinned when one of

the women slid him a fresh one.

The bartender announced the last round and the house lights came on. Zam realised it

was two o’clock in the morning. Man, the time had flown. The women left after they had all

exchanged numbers and hugged Zam and Dominic.

Outside the club, he and Dominic leaned against the wall and talked. The cinderblocks

still held the day’s warmth and Zam could detect the unpleasant odour of human urine in

the air. Venice Beach at night brought out the homeless. They weren’t very discriminating

about their hygiene. Zam was about to excuse himself when Dominic leaned into him.

“There are some things about the deal I made for Snakes and Ladders that you don’t

know,” he said. Before Zam could protest or even walk away, Dominic said, “I rewrote your

screenplay for free. I liked it and wanted so much for it to happen that I agreed to a free

rewrite in exchange for sole writing credit and a hefty payday if a deal came to pass.”

“You got an If Come deal?”

Dominic nodded.

This was stunning news to Zam. He tried to process all of this information. “Did you

have a deal memo for the sole writing credit?”

“No. Her word only.”

“So she screwed both of us?” When Dominic nodded, Zam felt like punching

something. Instead, Dominic put his fingers on Zam’s face.

“It’s hard finding a new agent. I just wanted to warn you… Dot all your i’s and cross all

your t’s on any upcoming contracts you get with her.”

“Thanks. I will.” Zam was so grateful now that he’d made arrangements with his

attorney to go over the deal memo and the contract.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Zam asked.

Dominic began stroking the stubble of Zam’s chin. For some reason, the gesture was

unbelievably erotic. In the semi-dark of Abbot Kinney, with a few drinks under his belt, Zam

felt the stirrings of attraction to the man who’d upset him for months.

“I like you,” Dominic said, moving towards him. They began to kiss, Zam opening up

to the invasive tongue now claiming his.

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He couldn’t believe he was kissing Dominic Bloody Glass, or that his cock was

betraying him by getting harder and harder in his pants. Dominic stepped closer, rubbing

against him. Man, he was hard, too.

Dominic’s hand left Zam’s face and cupped around his ass, holding him closer. Zam

arched into him, his arms splayed against the wall for support.

“Fuck, where do you live?” Dominic whispered against his mouth.

“Um…” Zam couldn’t think.

“I live in the Palisades,” Dominic said.

“Of course you do.” Zam barely contained the urge to roll his eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dominic kissed his way along Zam’s jawline and

back to his mouth.

“You’re rich. You’re The Script Doctor, aren’t you?”

Dominic ignored him. “I need your tongue,” he commanded. Zam opened willingly to

him. Dominic leaned into him more as their kiss deepened.

“You want to come to my place?” Dominic asked, his lips against Zam’s.

“No. Mine.” Zam had the insane urge to re-christen his bed. He didn’t want the last

fucking it had seen being Jason with some other guy.

“I’ll let you drive. Can you bring me back in the morning?” Dominic’s kisses made it

hard to talk, but Zam wanted more than talky kisses. He grabbed the guy’s hand and steered

him towards his new car.

“Nice.” Dominic ran an appreciative hand over the shiny walnut dashboard—Zam’s

pride and joy—as he climbed in and waited until Zam got behind the wheel to start rubbing

Zam’s crotch.

“You’ll have to wait.”

“I’m not waiting. I have a feeling you have a nice big one.” He began unbuttoning the

fly of Zam’s vintage jeans.

Zam started the engine, his hand fumbling for the window function on the console.

Oops…wrong button. The window wipers went mad then the side mirrors did a dance. Then

his car seat started heating and he turned it off. He finally got the window open, but it was

still hot inside the vehicle. He couldn’t believe it when he felt his cock being liberated from

his boxer briefs and brought out to the open.

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“Look what I found!” Dominic dipped his head down. Zam’s head almost hit the roof

of the car he jumped so high. God it felt good to have another man’s mouth on him again. He

tried not to think about Jason, who’d been the last person to suck him off.

“Hmmm…” Dominic moaned around Zam’s cock.

Zam gripped the wheel, sweat beading around his face. Oh, fuck. He hadn’t turned

down the heating function. He’d turned it up high. He reached out for the button, switching

it off, his hand colliding with Dominic’s head just as the man came off his cock.

“Are you trying to hit me?” Dominic’s mouth quirked into a smile.

“No.” He took a deep breath. He’d been afraid he’d erupt in the guy’s mouth on a

public street. Now he was disappointed.

“You want me to finish you at your place?” Dominic’s eyes gleamed under the light

from the streetlamp just outside.

Zam slowly shook his head. He’d never had sex in a car. Wow. Dominic seemed

determined and wedged his head down again. A male couple walking by arm in arm caught

Zam’s gaze and one winked. They obviously knew exactly what was going on.

The heat function might have been switched off, but Zam was burning up. Dominic’s

mouth slid up and down his cock in an expert way, his tongue working the head each time

he pulled back. Dominic would then lick along the huge vein in Zam’s shaft. Damn. He knew

it had to be sensitive, but as he kept his thumb and forefinger around the base, licking all the

way back up again, the unrelenting pressure on the shaft was blissful torture. Dominic

released his tight grip as he sucked back down again. His technique was maddening, but

absolutely thrilling. The way he worked Zam felt like total stress relief. As Dominic sucked

back up again, he wound his fingers around Zam’s base. Zam almost flew off the seat.

Dominic eased him down, pushing his thighs with his free arm, then bam! The man

kept his mouth on him, tightening the moist warmth around Zam’s entire cock.

Oh God, he’s deep-throating me…

Zam came—a strange, spiralling surge of pleasure-pain coursing from the back of his

neck. His breath caught in his throat. His head felt like it might burst.

Fuck! I think I’m having a stroke!

His head hurt so much that when Dominic came off his cock, swallowing hard, Zam

fought to speak.

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Dominic seemed to realise something was wrong. He spoke, but Zam couldn’t really

understand a thing he said. It was as if somebody had shoved a red-hot poker into the back

of his skull.

“Zam…breathe. Are you okay?” Dominic’s hands were all over him, his arms moving

around him in a protective way.

“My head—”

“Where?” When Dominic’s fingers reached the back of Zam’s neck the pain intensified

and he let out a yelp.

“Headache triggered by intense orgasm. Not unusual. Never happened to you before?”

Dominic spoke in clipped sentences as his fingers worked the muscles in Zam’s neck, moving

up to massage his skull. It still hurt like fucking hell, but Dominic seemed to know exactly

how to touch him to ease the pain.

“That’s it…breathe,” Dominic said. Zam focused on his words, following his

instructions. As fast and as savage as the attack was, it was soon over. Zam slumped against

the seat.

“What the fuck just happened to me?”

Dominic shrugged. “I blew your brains out.”

Zam’s head and shoulders felt heavy. He slid a sidelong look at Dominic.

“Yeah, I guess you did.”

Dominic opened his door. “I’ll drive. Switch places with me.”

“You’ve had a lot to drink, haven’t you?”

“Not really. And I’m sober now. Come on, let me drive this sweet little ride.”

Zam got out of the car, surprised when Dominic pressed up against him, exchanging

more torrid kisses. Man, this guy was a fireball.

Dominic took over driving, a languid feeling overcoming Zam as the other man drove.

“You said it was a headache induced by orgasm? Sure it wasn’t a stroke?” Zam asked.

Dominic had turned the vehicle around and was hurtling along Nielsen Way. Zam had

a feeling they were heading to Dominic’s posh digs in Pacific Palisades, not back towards

West LA. He tried not to worry about the headache.

“What you had was an orgasmic cephalalgia,” Dominic said as he changed lanes,

veering down the turnoff for the Pacific Coast Highway. The sight of the ocean eased Zam’s

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anxieties instantly. The Santa Monica Pier’s giddy rides were all aglow, but had long since

stopped running for the night. The amusement park, like PCH itself, was deserted. Zam had

forgotten how beautiful the coast was. He enjoyed watching the beautiful, expensive homes,

with glimpses of the star-kissed sea slipping by as they drove north.

“It’s a kind of migraine, three times more prevalent in men than women,” Dominic

went on. “See, what happens is, sexual excitement causes muscle contraction in the back of

the neck and causes explosive headaches…but I prefer to think I blew your brains out.”

Dominic shot him a wicked grin.

“I do, too.” Zam smiled back. He liked that Dominic slid his hand to his thigh, sneaking

his fingers up to Zam’s cock, which, he realised to his shock, was still exposed. Dominic

moved his hand to his thigh. Zam began to stuff his cock back into his jeans.

“Oh, no…don’t put it away. I like looking at my sacrificial victims,” he joked. “Besides,

we’re almost home. I have a townhouse and I park right inside my unit.”

He made a sudden, sharp right that seemed to set off the pain in Zam’s head again, but

then he shook his shoulders out and he felt his neck bones snap back into place. Getting a

blowjob in the car wasn’t as comfortable as he’d thought it would be. He recalled a photo of a

skydiving couple photographed copulating as they jumped out of a plane. How had they

done it?

“I feel old,” he said. “Say…how do you know about all this stuff with the headaches?”

Dominic was silent for a moment. “I’d like to say research for a screenplay, but the fact

is, I’m a doctor.”

Zam gaped at him. “An actual doctor?”

“Sure.”

“So that’s why they call you The Script Doctor?”

“That’s how it started. Most people who hire me, though, have no idea I’m actually a

doctor.”

Zam thought for a moment. “Michael Crichton was a doctor too.”

“Yes, and he was my biggest supporter. He spent some time studying at the Salk

Institute for Biological Studies early in his career. I spent a year there myself and he came

back to lecture us in bioterrorism. We hit it off and I found a real mentor in him. He was the

kindest man I’ve ever met.”

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“His death must have hit you pretty hard,” Zam said, reaching down to squeeze

Dominic’s fingers. Dominic withdrew his hand to take Palisades Highlands at a very sharp

turn.

“Very.” Dominic returned his hand to Zam’s lap. Zam still couldn’t believe he was with

the man who’d triggered a seemingly insurmountable depression.

“What kind of doctor are you?”

“Infectious skin diseases. I’m a licensed dermatologist, but my speciality is, as I said,

skin disease. I’m particularly fascinated with tropical infections.”

“You still practice?”

A slow smile was visible even in the now dark car. There wasn’t a single streetlight on

the long road into the Santa Monica Mountains.

“I do clinic work.”

“Wait…you mean, you treat people for free?”

“Yes.”

“Shit. And to think I hated you.”

Dominic gave a laugh like a dog’s bark. “Yeah. Lucy certainly enjoyed playing one off

against the other.”

They passed a cluster of stores to the left and Dominic made a left turn onto Michael

Lane. They appeared to be at the top of the mountain and Zam wondered if Dominic’s movie

earnings had allowed him to purchase such a luxurious home.

Dominic pressed the garage door opener on his sun visor and a door to the right swung

open on a well-appointed, brightly lit garage. Zam’s eyes adjusted to the glare as he took in

the state-of-the-art washer and dryer, and expensive wooden shelving containing clear

plastic boxes that he could see held winter ski wear. Surfboards lined the right side of the

garage. Wow. This guy lived the life.

The garage doors closed behind them and they both got out of the car.

Dominic inclined his head. “This way.” He flipped on lights on a side panel and led

Zam to a white door that opened to a stark, white kitchen. Beyond it, an open-plan dining

room and living room just sparkled. Zam had never been inside anything so lovely. It wasn’t

exactly his taste, being so modern with everything white on white, but, with the unadorned

windows giving a view of the darkened mountains outside, he thought, if this were his

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home, he’d never want to leave. The only spots of colour were two gorgeous paintings of

dolphins on the living room walls. When Zam turned, he noticed a study door.

Floor to ceiling books. He couldn’t help himself. He walked past a baby grand piano

into the room and stood in the doorway admiring Dominic’s amazing collection of antique

finds.

“This is my haven.”

Zam nodded. He could tell. “Thank God you aren’t like every other writer I know,

giving up your books for everything electronic.”

“No way.” Dominic reached for a leather-bound volume on one of the shelves. “These

books are my friends. I could spend all night discussing books with you, but some other

time. You and I have some unfinished business.”

“We do?” Zam couldn’t help feeling both ridiculous with his cock getting hard and

giddy at the prospect of what Dominic had in mind.

They moved towards one another in an unspoken collision of lips, tongues,

hands…and, mercifully, Dominic was soon half naked. He knelt before Zam, kissing and

licking Zam’s cockhead.

Zam was surprised when Dominic stood, took him by the hand and said, “Come on,

let’s go upstairs.”

Dominic took him to an outdoor area on the second floor, a private Zen garden with a

dark, wooden, Asian daybed with a thick mattress and white, faux-fur throws on it. A fire pit

stood in the corner. Dominic soon made a fire and returned to kiss Zam as he pushed him

onto the bed. Zam had lived his whole life in Los Angeles and had never personally

experienced such decadence.

He’d just helped his father sell it.

Dominic lowered himself onto Zam. The two men, now naked, began to kiss again.

Zam, covered by one of the throws, was delirious when Dominic began stroking his

hardening cock, lurking under the faux fur.

“I want to taste your cock,” Zam whispered. They began to lick and suck one another’s

mouths and throats, moving down to their nipples.

Hmm…he’s just like me. I adore having my nipples sucked.

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Zam couldn’t wait to examine the big toy Dominic had waiting for him. He loved that

Dominic had an uncut cock. Wow. He loved those. Now, worse luck, he’d probably become

obsessed with the guy.

“I have an idea,” Dominic suddenly said. “Stay there.”

He left Zam alone. Nestled under the soft blankets, Zam listened to the night sounds of

Pacific Palisades. It was so quiet he could hear the distant roll of waves crashing on the sand.

He could hear an owl hooting. An owl! In Los Angeles!

Just as he turned over to get more comfortable, Dominic returned with a tray.

“Body shots,” he announced, laying the tray beside Zam. “On your back.”

Zam turned over, surprised when Dominic pulled back the throw and began squeezing

lemons on him from Zam’s throat to his groin. He picked up some salt and sprinkled it down

Zam’s body.

When he began licking the path he’d created, finishing it with a vodka shot, Zam’s cock

was ready to burst.

“I love how hard you are.” Dominic kissed Zam’s cock but soon took his mouth away.

“Now you.”

Zam didn’t hesitate. He kept Dominic on his side, however, and rubbed a quarter of a

lemon down the man’s thigh, sprinkled some salt and licked. To his surprise, it wasn’t a

lemon but a grapefruit he’d squeezed.

“I’ve never seen such small grapefruit. It’s delicious.”

“Organic,” Dominic said, his tone husky. Zam moved to Dominic’s cock, kissing the

shaft. He picked up the other shot glass on the tray and swallowed the contents. Wow.

Grapefruit infused vodka. It tasted better than his favourite greyhounds.

He dropped his head, seeing that Dominic’s cock was leaking against his thigh.

Dominic made a small, unintelligible sound as Zam began licking the soft folds of skin that

hid Dominic’s cockhead. He kept Dominic lying on his side and focused on sucking the

delicious cock in his hands. He already loved the gigantic balls, dangling from the base of the

huge cock that was getting bigger by the second.

“I thought you said greyhounds were gay drinks,” Zam murmured between kisses.

“Now is probably”—kiss, kiss—“a good time to tell you…I’m gay. I hope that doesn’t

shock you.”

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“It does. Terribly.”

The two men laughed. Zam buried his face in Dominic’s gorgeous, toned, lightly

muscled thighs, licking up the remnants of grapefruit juice. He moved back to the sweet,

hard cock with its delicious foreskin now slipping back easily over Dominic’s rigid shaft.

Zam loved playing with foreskin. He teased the delicate hood back over the head with his

pursed lips, careful not to graze it with his teeth when he slid it back over the shaft again

with his tongue and lips.

Up and down, back and forth, he tugged the skin over the head, letting his mouth

warm up the glistening hood. Men he knew who had their foreskin said the feeling this gave

them was indescribable. Zam lamented that he would never personally know.

He could tell Dominic was enjoying himself by the soft sounds he made, and the way

his body arched up to him each time he tugged the hood back over his raging cockhead.

Finally, he let the skin slide all the way back. Dominic was in the mood to be sucked. He held

Zam’s head briefly. Zam took the hint and complied, reaching around to grasp Dominic’s

ass. He worked the man’s thick, glistening cock. As he drew his lips back, Dominic’s cock

beaded sweet juices against his mouth. He sucked everything the man had to give him.

“Please,” Dominic said, his face twisted in anguish. Zam swallowed his cock, stroking

at Dominic’s asshole now. Dominic came hard, flooding Zam’s throat. He fought the urge to

back off. Man…he didn’t think the guy would ever stop shooting.

He eased off finally, but Dominic threaded his hands into his hair. Zam allowed

Dominic to pull him up and into his arms. They fell asleep until the fire went out and the

night grew so cold they shivered against one another.

Zam awoke with Dominic kissing him. He had a feeling what would come next and

wasn’t sure he was ready to be fucked by anyone other than Jason.

“I don’t have any rubbers,” Dominic said as he trailed down between Zam’s legs. He

licked and sucked Zam’s ass and balls. Zam adored having his asshole sucked. He liked it

almost more than having his cock sucked.

“Too bad.” Dominic lifted his face from Zam’s ass. “I really want to fuck you.”

“Next time,” Zam said, then immediately panicked. He didn’t want Dominic to think he

was some fatal-attraction type who was already desperate for a second date.

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“Hell yeah, there’s gonna be a next time.” Dominic dropped a kiss on Zam’s thigh and

dipped between his legs again. He held Zam’s thighs open wide, exploring him deeply with

his tongue. Zam began humping his face, almost screaming out in pleasure as he felt his

tongue lashing its way inside him. He grabbed his cock, jerking on it lightly. Fuck. Having a

man’s tongue inside you as you stroked yourself off was almost as good as…shit…that man

taking his tongue out of you, replacing it with two fingers and taking possession of your cock

with his mouth.

Zam screamed out Dominic’s name as he came. He shouted it to the wilderness,

Dominic silencing his moans at last with kisses. Zam could taste himself on Dominic’s

tongue when the man came up to kiss him after bringing him swift relief a second time.

They fell asleep once more, shrouded in mountain mist, the two of them protected in

one another’s arms, under the warmth of fake but fabulous fur.

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Chapter Four

Zam awoke alone in the outdoor Zen garden, the morning in full bloom. Cars zoomed

down below on the steep canyon road. Where were they all going in such a rush? Ah…work.

Slightly disorientated at first, he remembered the night before and wondered if he should be

embarrassed. He detected no hangover, which surprised him. He sat up. The drinks tray and

Dominic were both gone. He yawned and stretched, wondering where the fuck his clothes

were. Oh, right. Downstairs. He entered the house, feeling a little odd walking through a

strange house naked, and hoped that Dominic didn’t have early morning guests.

Holy shit. He stood on the stairs and looked down into the living room. The man had a

room full of guests. They all gazed up at him. One of them was Jack Kilgrove and he looked

amused when he caught his eye. Zam backed away, completely freaked out. What the hell

time was it?

He raced across the upper floor to a small bathroom. He could smell lime soap and

deodorant on the air, a thin film of steam still clinging to the mirrors. Dominic had recently

showered. Thank God Dominic had brought Zam’s clothes up here. They hung on a hook

behind the door. He rifled his pocket for his cell phone to check the time. Eight-thirty. He had

a meeting with Jack at nine. He couldn’t resist a quick shower. His body felt gritty and sticky

from the salt and grapefruit they’d had last night. A quick shower and he dried off fast, his

skin still damp as he re-dressed.

Shit. I’m still in the same clothes from yesterday. Jack’s gonna think I’m a total whore.

A soft knock at the door. He opened it, hoping it was Dominic. He wasn’t disappointed.

“Can I borrow a shirt?” Zam asked.

“Good morning to you, too.”

“Sorry…but Jack’s here. Why didn’t you wake me?”

“I was hoping to get them out of here before you even realised they were here. We’re

not going to be long.”

“God! He’s going to think I’m a slut.”

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“Babe, we’re single, adult men, doing what we want. No explanations, no regrets. I’ll

get you a shirt, but I want a kiss first.”

Fuck. “But I have morning breath.”

“So do I.”

They exchanged a quick kiss that would have grown hotter except that they both pulled

back.

“Shit.” Dominic stared at him. “So last night wasn’t my imagination.”

“Guess not.” Zam felt a rush of happiness.

“Jack says you have a nine o’clock meeting with him at Lenny’s.”

“Yeah.” Zam rubbed his wet scalp with the towel again.

“There’s some gel in the cupboard, you Neanderthal.” Dominic pointed to Zam’s right,

left the bathroom and returned with a comb and a clean shirt in his grip.

“Come here. The kinky sex bed head look is fine for me, but you need to smarten your

game if you’re having a story meeting.”

“Fine.” Zam grabbed the shirt and put it on as Dominic tugged the comb through his

hair.

“Oh fuck,” Dominic said when he had finished grooming Zam.

“What?” Do I look that bad?

“Now you look really hot. I want to fuck you more than ever.” Dominic leaned in and

kissed him. “I want your phone numbers before you leave. Write them down. I’ll go get rid

of my guests.”

As Dominic walked out, Zam asked, “Are you having a production meeting?”

Dominic turned and nodded. “I got three more today and a pitch meeting at four.”

“You’re amazing. I can’t even get out of the gate with my stuff lately.”

“Writer’s block?”

“Something like that.”

Dominic stared at him a moment, then walked out and returned with a pad and pen.

“Give me your numbers. Writer’s block or no writer’s block, I want them. And your

email. Thanks for a great night.”

Zam began to jot on the pad. He was touched when Dominic leaned in and kissed his

cheek then dropped a kiss on his shoulder.

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“Leave your dirty shirt here, Zam. I want to walk around in it.”

Fuck. Dominic was one hot man. If only Zam could stay and spend all day with him in

that daybed.

“What about your car?” Zam asked. “We left it at the Roosterfish.”

“I called the auto club and had them tow it here. Listen, I gotta book.” He reached

across Zam’s body, tearing off the piece of paper with Zam’s details. “I’ll leave the garage

door open. Give me a couple minutes to get rid of everybody. You know how to get to

Lenny’s from here?”

“Yeah. It’s right off Sunset…on Swarthmore, isn’t it?”

“Exacalacaly.” Dominic kissed him again.

I could get used to this.

“Hey, Dominic, please don’t tell Jack what I told you.”

“About what?”

“My problem.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t. I’ll call you, okay?” He put two fingers to his lips, blowing Zam

a kiss. Zam air-kissed him back. As he checked himself in the mirror, he had to admit his hair

looked good. He heard the sound of cars leaving and suddenly felt like he’d lost his best

friend.

Don’t go falling in love, Zam. Then you’ll never be able to write.

He looked at himself in the mirror. Aw, heck. It was probably too late. The tell-tale

signs were there, all right—in his sparkling eyes, pink cheeks and his upturned lips. The

unmistakable signs of afterglow.

* * * *

Zam sat across from Jack at Lenny’s. Their exchange of greetings hadn’t been as

awkward as Zam had feared it might be. It all became a little easier with the waitress

bringing them steaming mugs of coffee. Zam wrapped his hands around the cup,

remembering the things Dominic had done to him with his tongue.

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They exchanged small talk until their hefty breakfasts arrived. Zam had ordered his

favourite eggs—sunny side up—bacon, potatoes and a side of tomatoes in lieu of toast or a

bagel.

“I could never give up the opportunity for a bagel,” Jack said as soon as their food

arrived. He had ordered an omelette. Both dishes were massive.

“So,” Jack said, his tone casual as Zam took his first bite, “you and Dominic, huh?”

Zam blushed. “He’s a great guy,” he said. Jack didn’t seem to know how to respond to

that. Zam changed the subject. “How’s your bagel?”

That began a very entertaining discourse on the best bagels in town.

“You know, if you and Dominic are free some weekend, you should come to my

boyfriend’s bakery in Huntington Beach,” Jack said.

Zam had wondered whether the studio executive was gay and now he knew. Plus he

had an invitation…with Dominic. He smiled, thanking the man.

“I love Huntington Beach. Where is his bakery?”

“In Bel Air…downtown.”

“I know it well. I have an aunt who lives in the Seacliff section.”

Jack’s face lit up. “Toby and I love that area. That’s our dream, to buy a place in one of

the new gated communities there.”

Zam nodded. “She’s a Realtor there. She snapped up a gorgeous house right on the

canals. My dad is a Realtor in Hollywood.”

“Hey, you’ve got LA sewn up… Didn’t Lucy mention you still sell real estate?”

I bet she did, the bitch. I can’t believe she would out me as having a day job. So uncool.

“Not as much as I used to. I do it more to hang out with my father.”

Actually, I do it to pay my bills.

“That’s awesome. I could never work with my father.”

“Why? Because of what he does or—?”

Jack cut him off. “Because I hate him. I should talk to your aunt about helping me find a

place down at the beach. I don’t think my man is ready to move in yet, but I’m ready to move

down there.”

“Sure, I’ll give you her number.” Zam sipped his coffee. He felt better than he had in

ages. Then Jack dropped a small neutron bomb over the proceedings.

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“So, I’ve been thinking. I love everything about Angel Inn. It’s fantastic…except I

wonder if you’d be open to one small change?”

Zam waited and Jack said, “I think Estelle Adair is a talented lady and all that, but she’s

kinda old…and I’m thinking it should be a hot guy who inherits the place.”

As bombs went, it was a beaut, but Zam felt strangely in control.

“I’ve been thinking about that, too, but I have another idea. I think we should keep

Estelle. She will kill me if I don’t…you see, she’s my father’s girlfriend. But I actually wrote a

scene with two gay men in bed. Young, handsome…but they’re ghosts. I think it would be

fun to make them recurring characters—”

“That’s fucking fantastic!”

Zam almost asked, ‘Really?’ but bit his tongue. Literally. Rule number three in

Hollywood was never show your insecurity. Once a producer figured out you weren’t

confident in your product they would trample your creativity and bulldoze all your ideas.

Jack warmed to the idea of the ghostly gay couple and they ran through some scenarios

for other characters. As they spoke, Zam pulled a workbook out of his messenger bag and

made some notes. They batted ideas back and forth.

“I love your idea that we shouldn’t always be able to tell straight away if some of the

characters are dead or alive,” Jack said. “I liked that as soon as I read it in your treatment.”

Zam liked everything they’d agreed upon. He had so much to work with now, he was

certain he’d be able to bust through the fog of depression and bang out a damned good pilot.

Jack picked up the cheque, glanced at it and dropped it back into its little plastic dish

with his credit card.

“You know, this went so much better than I thought it would. Lucy warned me that

you’re sensitive and Dominic said you’re neurotic as hell.”

Zam stared at him. “Dominic said that?”

“Yeah.” Jack picked up the cheque and signalled to the waitress.

Boy, oh boy. Neurotic? He thinks I’m neurotic…and she said I’m sensitive?

“But I see they were worried for no reason.”

Zam gaped. “They were worried?”

“Lucy pushed for Dominic to be the head writer, but from what I’ve seen, you’re great.

Your ideas are wonderful and you’re open to suggestion. No ego. No matter what she says.”

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“She pushed for Dominic to be the head writer?”

“That’s what the meeting was about this morning. Look, I’d like to bring him on but it’s

your show. I promise to fight to keep you as the head writer. Just go write me a brilliant

pilot.”

Fuck! No pressure there…

“I will,” Zam said aloud. He felt hurt that a meeting had taken place behind his back…a

meeting to which he’d shown up naked, for God’s sake.

“The fact you and Dominic are a couple should make things easier,” Jack said.

“No…we’re not a couple. We’re not in that place.”

“Oh.” Jack looked surprised. “Well…anyway, when do you think I can see the pilot?”

“End of next week.”

“Cool.”

The waitress brought back the card, and Jack signed the cheque—leaving a ridiculously

massive tip well above and beyond the customary twenty per cent—then stood.

“Looking forward to it.” He held out his hand. “And I really do hope you and Dominic

can join me and Toby for a meal soon.”

“Me too.” Zam’s head was filled with colliding thoughts. He had to forget about

Dominic Glass. Especially since the man was apparently trying to snatch his show from

under him. He had to get back to work and finish the damned pilot.

Fuck…and I really thought I’d finally met someone I could like…

Outside, he called Michael Bluestein from his cell phone. Voicemail. Zam left a

message. “I don’t care about the hours. Lucy’s trying to get Dominic Glass to take over my

bloody pilot! This is a nightmare! Please…work on the contract to make sure I am the show

runner. I have to be the head writer. Thanks!”

As he ended the call, his phone vibrated. A text from Dominic.

‘What are you doing tonight?’

He was so mad he didn’t respond. Let the man wait.

And wonder.

* * * *

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Back home, he started to brew coffee to brace himself for the writing task ahead, then

remembered he had none left. Fuckity fuck. He pondered driving to the store, but then came

a knock on his kitchen door. He opened it to his landlord, the insane house flipper Will

Lassiter.

On the surface, Will was a classically handsome man with an expensive, fashionable

haircut that made his blond hair fall boyishly in his intelligent eyes, a beautiful big smile

and…underneath it all was a sincerely nasty man with zero compassion and myriad

personality disorders. He was a monster. He gave Zam his biggest, most artificial smile.

“Hey!”

“What happened to your lips?” Zam blurted. “Did somebody punch you?”

“Botox. It was fucking agony.” Will touched his mouth and glanced over his shoulder.

“I have a big problem. Can you help me?”

The trouble with a drama queen like Will was that one never knew if a big problem

entailed a man lying on his kitchen floor bleeding to death, or a moth trapped in his teacup.

“Sure.” Unable to keep the wariness from his tone, he added, “What’s going on?”

“I need somebody to play my new assistant for this episode we’re shooting now of Hot

Prospects. I’m running out of friends willing to be humiliated on national television.”

“I’m sure you are.” Zam couldn’t resist grinning.

“Don’t be like that. I hired my friend Cathy, but she started crying in the first scene.”

“That’s good TV, isn’t it?”

“Excellent TV, but she says she looks horrible and won’t go on.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.”

Will looked desperate as he waved his arms around, his face going red. Was he having

a heart attack?

“We’re talking about my life here, Zam. You’re cuter than most and I’ll pay you.”

“Yeah…you will. How much?”

“A thousand dollars. It’s this episode only. I found a guy on Craigslist who is coming in

next week for three episodes. He’s as mad as a meat cleaver and he’s going to let me throw

stuff at him and everything! Maybe even slap him a couple times.”

Geez, Louise. What some people will do to get their mugs on camera.

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“That doesn’t sound like much.” Actually, it did. Zam knew these non-union reality

shows paid a pittance—nothing like scripted TV shows—and there were no residuals, which

were an actor’s and writer’s staple source of income. This wasn’t the first time his landlord

had put the bite on him. Zam had no intention of doing his dopey TV show. He just wanted

to see how far Will would go in order to get him to agree.

Will frowned. “That’s fantastic money! The psychic who came on for three episodes got

nine hundred bucks.”

“Poor her. Didn’t you push her into the pool?”

“Yeah, but if she’d been a real psychic she would have seen that coming.”

Zam laughed. “Well, it was fun talking with you but I really have to get back to work

here.”

“Wait!” Will held up a hand as if he were stopping traffic. “I’ll give you a month’s free

rent.”

“Two.”

“Three,” Will said, apparently without thinking.

“Fantastic. A thousand dollars and three months’ free rent.” Zam extended his hand.

“You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Will looked sick. “Three months,” he muttered. “That Botox needle must have slipped

and gone into my brain.” He glanced over his shoulder again and sighed. “I’ll come over

when we’re ready.”

“And I get to quit. You don’t fire me,” Zam added.

“Don’t push your luck. For what I’m paying, I get to fire you.” His expression turned

hopeful. “Can I push you around a bit…maybe punch you in the face?”

“No. You fucking can’t.”

“Okay, okay. But I get to fire you.”

Zam wasn’t happy but agreed. Three months’ free rent… “Oh…all right.”

“Wonderful.”

As Zam tried closing the door, Will shot out a hand and held it open. “I like what

you’re doing with your hair. It’s cool.”

My hair? Zam remembered that Dominic had styled it for him. He felt a sudden ache in

his gut that wouldn’t quit. Damn it…he wanted to see the son of a gun again. He mumbled

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thanks and closed the door as Will went off to verbally barbecue some of his employees. Zam

leaned against the closed door, feeling lonely and regretting his decision to do the TV show.

What would Dominic do? No…he would not do a show with Will Lassiter.

Zam would have called Will to tell him he’d changed his mind but the lunatic was

outside, tearing into the poor pool guy, ripping him a new one in front of the cameras. Zam

knew this was Will’s latest romantic folly. Zam couldn’t bear being around to witness the

insanity. He picked up his messenger bag and laptop and sneaked down the driveway.

He felt instant relief the second he pulled out of the driveway and onto the road. He

headed east towards the Larchmont district and his hands-down favourite cafe to write in,

Bricks and Scones. He had been frequenting a lot of cafés lately, trying to rediscover his love

of the written word. He’d also tried the public library…not that there were many open

anymore. All of them were closed Saturday to Monday and the one day he did manage to get

inside one it had been bedlam. People just didn’t know how to behave in libraries anymore.

Halfway to Larchmont, his cell phone rang. It was his father.

“Can you do me a favour and show somebody the Chislehurst house?” he asked by

way of a greeting.

Zam had put his father on loudspeaker and frowned at the dashboard. “What? Now?”

“Yeah. It’s a couple. They might bring friends. The key is in the lockbox just inside the

gate. It’s the usual combination.” His father hung up before Zam could protest. Damn. He

wanted to work on his pilot… On the other hand, he knew that this sale would be great for

his dad.

He kept driving past Larchmont and headed towards Los Feliz. His phone rang a

second time. He glanced at it. Dominic Glass. He knew he should speak to him, but didn’t

know what to say. He’d wait until he was stationary and could keep his thoughts straight.

His worries gnawed at him. At this rate, he’d never write a damned thing. At a set of

lights on Melrose, he was astonished to see a billboard for a drink called NeuroSonic. The

billboard screamed in huge letters, That Screenplay Isn’t Going To Write Itself.

God had a fantastic sense of humour.

He pushed forwards on the green light. The traffic was with him and he arrived at the

Chislehurst house a little after noon. His father called again.

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“I got two different couples coming. Make sure the first lot are out by one. Don’t worry,

you’ll get your usual commission if it sells.”

“Thanks, Dad.” His father ended the call. Zam found the key to the house and made it

inside. After switching on lights in the two dark bedrooms that needed the enhancement, he

put on the coffee maker and lined up stat sheets on the house. He kept the front door open.

He was halfway through his first cup when the first couple arrived.

Zam recognised the TV actress from the day before.

“Good afternoon, Ms Markham.”

“Please…call me Mitzi. I had to bring my husband, Adriano,” she said, introducing

them. Zam was floored. The man was a well-known Italian movie director. He’d read

something about the guy being in town to direct a Hugh Jackman movie.

“Would you like me to show you around, or would you prefer the self-guided tour?”

Zam asked, a smile on his face.

They appreciated his little joke, judging by their indulgent grins.

“Zam…is that short for Zamiel?” Adriano asked.

A little taken aback, Zam nodded. “My mother was high when she chose it.”

Mitzi let loose with a laugh that tickled Zam.

“It is a beautiful name,” Adriano said.

Is he cruising me? Zam was perplexed.

“I don’t understand the American desire to…homogenise everything…to simplify… It

is sad.” Adriano gave a little shudder.

“I agree. Please don’t ever let them remake Hanging Gardens.”

Adriano gave him a little bow of acknowledgement. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

“I’d love to show him everything,” the actress said. “Any chance of a cup of coffee,

though?”

“Of course.” He led the way to the kitchen and pointed out a few of the astonishing

features to the husband as he poured the coffee.

“The butcher’s block is a five-hundred-year-old piece from a French château and the

chandelier is made up of three hundred antique sterling silver teaspoons.”

They all gazed upwards.

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“Quite…astonishing,” Adriano said. Zam bit off the urge to ask them not to spill coffee

anywhere. The actress was back for her second visit in as many days. She had to be serious

about the house. Zam took an appreciative glance around the kitchen. Ironically, Will

Lassiter had bid on the house but hadn’t been able to come up with the financing. Word on

the street was that he was over-extended on all his properties. None of them were selling.

He’d achieved notoriety with his antics, but all of his houses looked the same and, thanks to

his impeccable taste in building materials, were priced so high that only very rich fans who

had unlimited funds could afford to hire him.

Zam cleaned up the kitchen, put more coffee on and went into the living room. He

could hear the couple laughing as they moved around the house. It was a beautiful space and

he hated to think it had once been in the clutches of a madman like Charlie Rathbun. Come to

think of it, it might have been apt for Will Lassiter to have bought it.

Mitzi and Adriano came back into the room looking dishevelled and working hard to

keep straight faces. Oh, my God…they’ve been having sex!

He ushered them out after they asked about other bids. He let them know one bid was

in, which wasn’t entirely a lie. That was the name of the game. Competition. As they passed

by him, Adriano slipped him his business card and winked at him. Zam’s eyes widened in

shock.

Damn. He was cruising me. So many guys in this town are on the down low…

Back inside the house he had fifteen minutes before the next visitors arrived. He moved

through the rooms, found the abandoned coffee cups in one of the bathrooms, washed them

in the kitchen and made himself a fresh cup. Anxiety flooded his system. He’d promised Jack

the pilot within a week. How could he hope to fight to remain as the head writer on the show

if he couldn’t even finish the damned teleplay? He took out his laptop and set it on the

dining table. Like the other rooms, it was exquisitely furnished. He knew the owners of the

house loved it but had moved to Connecticut to be closer to their families. He hoped they’d

be happy and that Charlie Rathbun’s dark spirit hadn’t affected them…

Hmm…that gave him an idea. Maybe there was a serial killer staying at Angel Inn? He

fired up his laptop, found his teleplay and opened a separate file, typing in the notes he’d

taken in his meeting with Jack. He was about to add ‘serial killer’ when he caught a glimpse of

a couple on the doorstep.

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Holy shit. One of them was Dominic.

He rushed to the door to greet his guests, embarrassed to have been caught

working…and to realise he was face to face with the man whose calls he’d been ignoring.

Zam wasn’t sure who was more shocked—himself or Dominic.

“Wow…you’re here! How lovely!” Surprise gave way to pleasure on the other man’s

face and he stepped forward and hugged Zam, who relaxed into the embrace.

“This is my sister, Diana. We came to see the house yesterday.” Dominic glanced down

at the beautiful woman’s belly. She was clearly pregnant. Zam felt the stirrings of a painful

memory and smiled at her.

“Congratulations,” he said.

She was stunning. It was obvious brother and sister were close. Diana moved past the

two men, her gaze flitting about the hallway.

“I wondered when my brother started blathering about you if you weren’t related to

Colin. Your last name is so uncommon.”

“You’re right. Colin is my father.”

She nodded, turning to him. “Don’t break my brother’s heart, or I’ll break every bone in

your body.”

“Oh my God,” Dominic muttered.

Diana gave Zam such a dazzling smile he had no doubt she meant to carry out her

threat.

Holy fucking shit! Zam trembled a little. He realised he’d been holding his breath and

released it as she left the room. He could hear her high heels clickety-clacking on the

hardwood floors towards the bedrooms.

Dominic put a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t mind my sister. I got excited and blabbed. I never thought you and me, of all

people… Anyway, I’m sorry. She knows I’ve had a crappy history with men. I thought you

were avoiding my calls… I see you’ve been working.” He gestured to the laptop on the

dining room table. “How’s it going?”

“It’s not.”

“Really?”

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“Really.” His cell phone rang. Fuck. He answered it before checking the readout. It was

Will Lassiter, in the mood for vengeance.

“Where the fuck are you?” his landlord screamed.

Zam looked over his shoulder and saw Dominic over at the laptop. Normally he hated

anybody reading his stuff before it was finished. Now he felt total despair. Dominic glanced

up at him.

He knows. He knows all I’ve written is a fucking tag scene.

“I’m showing a house for my dad,” he said. Fuck! Why did I tell him that?

“Which house?”

He couldn’t lie. One call to his father and Will could find out.

“Chislehurst.”

“You little workaholic, you. We’ll be right there. This’ll be excellent for the show.”

“No. Don’t come here!” But Will had hung up. Knowing him, his demonic powers

would get him here in no time.

Dominic came over to him. “Is there a problem?”

“My landlord.”

“Sweetie. You’re so stressed. Do you owe him money?”

“What? No…nothing like that. I agreed to be on his dopey TV show and now he’s

coming here. I can’t take it. He’s such an ass!”

“Who’s your landlord?”

“Will Lassiter.”

“Holy shit. I hear he’s a nightmare. I have this…friend who slept with him a couple of

times and said he was crazy.”

“Yeah.” Zam’s cell phone rang. He checked the readout. He had to take the call.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Don’t you let that crazy queen in the house. They’ll wreck the staging and last time he

came through he stole some antique silverware.”

“Okay, Dad.” Now he felt awful. He ended the call.

“Lock the front door,” Dominic instructed. “I’ll push my sister through quickly. Then

you and I need to talk.”

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Zam obeyed, happy that Dominic was here. He locked the door, packed his laptop

away then went to find his guests outside by the pool.

“You really rent from Will Lassiter?” Diana asked. “I love his show! Is he as crazy as he

seems?”

“Yes,” Zam and Dominic said in unison.

“But I have to meet him!”

“My dad doesn’t want him here.”

“I bet he didn’t take no for an answer and I bet he’s on his way.” There was no denying

it. “I must check my makeup,” Diana said, rushing past them.

Zam managed to get Diana and Dominic out of the house and the key safely back in its

lockbox when Will arrived in his ridiculous mint-coloured Hummer. Three of his dogs

snarled in the back cargo section and his faux assistant du jour got out of the vehicle, looking

miserable.

“Where’s the camera crew?” Will shouted.

“You can’t come in,” Zam said. His tone was so firm, Will looked surprised.

“I can’t? Listen, I’ll fire you if you don’t.”

“Excellent. Thank you!”

Will began to have such a fearsome tantrum that Diana whipped out her cell phone and

began taking photos.

“This’ll look amazing on Facebook,” she said, blowing past them.

Dominic grabbed Zam’s shoulder. “Where’s your car? Oh…I see it. Let’s go. I rode with

my sister.”

They left as the tiny hilltop street became crowded with neighbours coming out to find

out what was going on, Diana trying to turn her sports car around and Will Lassiter’s camera

crew stopped dead in the middle of the street so they could film Will’s fist fight with his dog

walker.

It was unreal. Dominic grabbed Zam’s car keys out of his hand. “Get in,” he said. “I’ll

drive.”

Somehow he got them off the hilltop and down the hill. It hadn’t been easy with hikers’

vehicles blocking the path of the camera crew’s immobile van. Chislehurst had a wonderful

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hiking trail through the mountains, right opposite the house his father was selling. It had

been a great selling point…until this moment.

“Where are we going?” Zam asked Dominic as they zoomed down the hill.

“Well, I’m thinking going back to your place, since you rent from the guy, is a bad idea.

I think we should go to mine. I’ll help you crack your acedia.”

“My…what?”

“Acedia. It’s depression. A melancholia of the soul common among us writers.”

“Why would…how can you do that?”

“Simple. I plan to give you plenty of inspiration.”

Zam was so happy he just smiled. “I hope your idea of inspiration matches my idea of

inspiration.”

Dominic laughed as he beat a red light on Los Feliz and swung onto the freeway.

“I’m thinking it might. We need to stop at the drugstore for rubbers. Then I plan to take

you home and fuck your brains out. Then I’m gonna make you write.”

Oh, shit.

“How does that sound?”

“Um…sounds like a plan,” Zam said, pleasure in the idea alone making his cock go

boing.

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Chapter Five

He hadn’t actually seen Dominic’s bedroom before and was delighted to see it was

spacious and airy and oh…the bed was divine. They ran towards it, undressing each other,

their mouths and hands roaming one another’s bodies. Zam couldn’t keep his hands off

Dominic, who began kissing him with the kind of wild desire Zam had only ever dreamt

about.

It was never like this with Jason.

Stop it. Stop thinking about him…

Dominic pushed Zam’s shoulders down until they were sitting beside one another on

the bed. Dominic’s kisses involved a lot of tongue. Each kiss was slow and sensual and the

next thing Zam knew the man was licking a path across his lips. Dominic’s tongue continued

along Zam’s jawline and moved upwards across his right eye. It hardened Zam’s cock even

more. Dominic returned to Zam’s waiting mouth, his lips and tongue moving all over Zam’s

face, as if he so luxuriated in the taste and feel of Zam that he had to savour him with licks.

Zam’s breath grew rapid.

“A shower,” Dominic suddenly said, leaving a long, sweet kiss on Zam’s forehead.

“What?”

“Come on. I want to bathe you.” Zam resisted leaving the bed, but Dominic dragged

him by the hand to the bathroom, where he turned on shower taps of what turned out to be

four different heads on a soft rainwater setting. When Dominic deemed the temperature to

be perfect, he led Zam under the spray, closing the door behind them. The water was cool,

almost fragrant, and yes…it was as if they’d stepped under a soft, soothing rain.

Dominic bathed him with a soft sponge and body soap he recognised as the lime

fragrance he’d detected earlier. When Dominic reached Zam’s cock and balls, he squeezed

soap over them but dropped to his knees, abandoning the sponge to use his hands and very

soon…his tongue.

“I promised you inspiration,” Dominic said between kisses. “Getting a blowjob in the

shower is the best way for me to start.”

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“No arguments from me.” Zam gasped when Dominic sucked him all the way into his

throat, squeezing his balls with insistent fingers. He could feel Dominic tugging his sac,

teasing him to swift and fierce relief. He came so fast it made his head spin.

He was still in the throes of his orgasm when Dominic stopped sucking and just kept

his mouth around Zam’s cock. It was the most unbelievable feeling…as if…as if he were

coming home.

Zam was dizzy by the time Dominic stood, led him out of the shower stall and handed

him a soft towel. He picked one up himself. He began to dry off Zam. How cute. They were

patting each other down and exchanging hot kisses again. Dominic dropped his towel and

took Zam’s out of his hand, leading him back to the bedroom. He pushed Zam to the bed and

parted his thighs. He knelt between his legs and, kissing his face and chest, began slowly

stroking Zam’s cock back to life.

A few seconds later, he travelled downwards and he started licking and sucking Zam’s

cock and balls. He dipped down again, his breath tickling the tender skin of his inner thighs.

Dominic nipped at him with pursed lips, sucking gently, producing intense sensations for

Zam. He thrashed on the bed, unused to anyone taking so long to pleasure him. Man…he

and Jason had fallen into bad habits. A quick suck, a fuck and they were both on their way.

The realisation came to him in that moment. That’s why I turned him down the last few

times. I’m ready for more. Shit…I want more. But am I ready for this?

When Dominic’s tongue moved across Zam’s asshole, he let out a scream. His whole

body felt hot-wired to the man’s tongue.

“Hmm,” Dominic said, lifting his face.

“No! Don’t stop.”

Dominic ignored him, raised himself up and sucked on one of Zam’s nipples. The

feeling was intense and almost painful.

“Suck me, fuck me!” he yelled. He wasn’t used to such intensity and didn’t know what

he wanted first.

Dominic’s facial expression turned urgent. He fumbled on the floor for his pants pocket

and extracted a pack of foils. He bit one open and spat out the lime-coloured wrapper,

producing a lubed rubber then rolled it over the head of his raging cock.

“I didn’t get to suck you yet,” Zam whispered.

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“This one’s for you,” Dominic said as Zam gripped his cock. “Put me where you want

me.”

Zam brought his knees up, a quick smile forming on Dominic’s beautiful face as Zam

pointed Dominic’s cock right at his hole. Dominic leant down and kissed him, their tongues

dancing over one another. Dominic took his time, entering Zam at leisure, with lots of kisses

and licks, words of whispered encouragement and a final, “I’m not going to stop fucking you

until I know you can’t take anymore.”

He plunged deeply into Zam, who clutched his ass. Fire and ice skittered through his

body, fusing in his brain as pain and pleasure tangoed, surprise and delight at how good and

how sweet the fucking was…nothing but bliss following as Dominic fought to fuck him

harder and deeper, against the pull of Zam’s possessive grip. They came within seconds of

one another, Zam’s heartbeat roaring in his head like the sound of the ocean outside.

Afraid he’d have another one of those violent headaches, he tried to relax as Dominic’s

mouth descended over his, silencing the fury and the distant, echoing memories that always

came for Zam when he felt sexual gratification.

“Stop thinking,” Dominic whispered in his ear, letting his body weight fall onto Zam’s

frame.

“How did you know?” Zam asked, putting his arms around the man still embedded in

him.

“Because you’re always in your head.”

Dominic started to slip out of him and gently took his cock away, lying beside him.

They swapped a few more kisses.

“God…that was fantastic,” Zam said.

“Not bad for the first time… Now,” Dominic said, his palm tracing a flat path across

Zam’s thundering heart, “I need to make good on the second part of my promise. Getting

you to write.”

“Nooo… I’d like a little more of the inspiration part.”

Zam pulled the man closer into his arms. Dominic laughed and kissed him.

“You’ll get some more inspiration after you do some work.”

“You’re a tyrant,” Zam joked.

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Dominic raised himself on one elbow. “Come on. We’ll make it fun. I promise. I believe

in the reward system. We’ll start scene one and when we’ve done a couple of pages you get

to choose what we do in bed next.”

“I can tell already I’m going to like the reward system.”

Dominic kissed him and got out of the bed. “Living room, bucko. If we stay here, my

mouth won’t stop.”

“Oh…too bad. I like writing in bed.”

“Liar. You just like being in bed with me.”

“True.”

“That’s okay. I like being in bed with you, too.”

Dominic led the way downstairs. They started making coffee in the kitchen, opening up

Zam’s laptop on the big wooden table beside it as they waited for the water to boil for the

French press. Dominic’s fantastic view of the mountains and the ocean was inspiration itself.

They sat opposite one another, the computer in front of Dominic. He read the opening

tag scene.

“How funny about the type of—” he started to say. They were interrupted by Zam’s cell

phone ringing. It was Jason. He happily ignored it. The second call came a few moments

later.

“It’s my mom, I can’t ignore it,” he said.

“Take the call. I’ll get the coffee made.”

Zam watched the man’s fabulous ass as he moved around the kitchen. Zam thought he

might still be coming, he felt so high. He heard his mother launch into her usual five-alarm

recounting of her day. She was such a drama queen.

“…And anyway, Annie and I are so looking forward to you coming for dinner,” she

said, finishing her story on a breathless note.

“Dinner…tonight…oh. Yeah. Right.”

He caught Dominic’s questioning gaze.

“I told my mom I’d have dinner with her and her partner tonight.”

“What time?”

“Seven,” Zam’s mother said. “Goodness, bunny, do you have a new man in your life?”

“Yes, Mom, I do.”

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“Are you going to bring him? What’s his name?”

“His name is Dominic.”

“I love that name. Are you going to bring him?” Before he could respond, she screeched

right in his ear, “Annie, the baby’s got a boyfriend!”

Zam thought he might have just lost eighty per cent of his hearing.

“What’s going on?” Dominic asked.

“They want you to come to dinner.”

Dominic brought their cups to the table and set them down.

“Do you want me to come to dinner?” He wanted to, Zam could tell. It had been so long

since he’d been excited about a man and he got the feeling it had been for Dominic, too.

“If you can stand a whole day and an evening with me, then yes.”

“I can stand it,” Dominic said. “A lot.” He leant down and kissed him.

Zam reached out to grab his cock. Dominic twisted away from him.

“Nope. That’s off limits. We’ve got work to do.”

Zam ended the call and focused on the man now doctoring his coffee with milk and

sugar.

“How do you know I like my coffee sweet and milky, Dominic?”

“Because you are those things, sweetie.” He sat opposite him again. “Now…I want you

to tell me the scene you visualise once we get past the tag, the ads and the credits. How do

you see it?”

“Estelle is at a macaroni commercial audition and fumbles it badly.”

“Why macaroni?”

“Because I actually composed a jingle for macaroni that was never used…I did some

copyrighting in my lean days…and I think it’s perfect for this. Because when she discovers

her legacy and goes to see Angel Inn, she gets a call back for the commercial.”

“Only this time she gets it?”

“Yes!”

“I read your synopsis—Jack showed it to me—and the treatment. I love that when she

goes to audition a second time, Squeaky Shoes shows up, bolstering her confidence.”

“Kind of like you’re doing now.”

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Dominic looked at him, his face full of sympathy. “I’m sorry if I had anything to do

with your…little block.”

“You called it acedia.”

“Yes, I did.”

“You’ve been through it?”

“Yep.”

“It’s kind of a beautiful word, really.” Zam pronounced it again, “A-see-dee-yuh.”

“You’re right…and yet it used to be one of the seven deadly sins.”

“Really?”

“Yep, replaced by sloth. Acedia is considered a precursor to it.”

“Wow. That’s kind of…gruesome. And you’re okay now?”

“I am… I’m glad I’m here with you, Zam.”

“Me too.” Zam hesitated. “There’s a lot I don’t know about you.”

“Backatcha. I’d like to have the time to find out for both of us, but right now…back to

work, O scrumptious one. Okay, scene one.” Dominic typed. “Where is the audition?”

“I thought one of the studios maybe… Universal or Warner Brothers? Someplace with a

great backlot.”

“Love that idea. How about Paramount? New York Street has just been decorated for a

Christmas special. It would be fun to see her walking through it.” Dominic snapped his

fingers. “Oh, I think I get it! Your idea is for us to think she’s walking through a real place,

only it’s a backlot… This sets up the idea from the very beginning that things are not as they

seem…ever…on this show.”

“Exactly!” Zam was so thrilled Dominic got it.

And so it went… For two hours, they tossed ideas back and forth, running lines

together as Dominic typed. They re-read what they’d written, Zam marvelling at how fun it

had been and how well they worked together.

“We need to talk about writing credits and stuff,” Zam said at one point, but Dominic

waved away the idea.

“This is your project. I’m just helping you.”

“Do I get to have some inspiration now?” Zam asked when it started to get dark and

Dominic switched on some lights.

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Dominic yawned, stretched, leant down and kissed him.

“Nothing would give me greater pleasure, except we need a rain check. We’re

supposed to be at your mom’s in exactly fifteen minutes.”

* * * *

Zam’s mother, Maureen, lived in Brentwood, not far from Zam’s house, in a Cape Cod

style home on Bristol Avenue. She had coveted the house for years and, as strange as it

seemed to many, Zam’s father had bought the house and given it to her during their divorce.

It had been an amicable divorce, even if Colin and Maureen’s partner, Annie, weren’t on the

friendliest terms. It was sad…but perhaps inevitable. Annie felt threatened by the

Carmarthens’ long but rocky marriage.

“I warn you, they’re barmy,” Zam said as he and Dominic walked up the dimly lit

pathway to the house. His mother had gone so green she used recycled vegetable oil for her

vehicle instead of gasoline. She bought it at a special gas station in West LA for ten dollars a

gallon. It was expensive and the smell of French fries always pervaded her BMW.

“Why do I smell French fries?” Dominic asked, sniffing the night air as they pressed the

front doorbell a second time. Zam hoped the two women inside weren’t having sex.

“I’ll explain later. Let’s go,” Zam said, hoping to avoid an embarrassing evening. His

mother was a brilliant architect but had no social filters. She was a bit like Will Lassiter, now

that he thought about it.

“We can’t go.” Dominic sounded horrified. The door flung open and there stood

Maureen and Annie, holding a massive towel around their bodies.

“We’re getting massages,” they said.

Dominic grinned. “How fun!” he enthused.

How fucking embarrassing! Zam fumed as the women pawed and mauled his date.

“Aren’t you yummy?” Maureen asked. “I have no idea what the baby told you, but we

don’t bite, although in your case we might make an exception.” She and Annie giggled over

him. Suddenly, Maureen frowned. “Zam, where are you going?”

“Nowhere,” he lied, his toe on the bottom step.

Dominic turned and grabbed his hand. “Come on, sweetie.”

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Inside, the women left them alone.

“We won’t be long,” Maureen trilled.

Great…fabulous. Zam tugged at the collar of the shirt he’d borrowed from Dominic

earlier that day. What a day it had been—fun…up until now.

“Sweetie, don’t be embarrassed.” Dominic took him in his arms. “I’m so pleased to be

here with you. I’ve heard about Maureen. She’s the woman who designed the adobe house

Kevin Costner built, isn’t she?”

Zam nodded, miserable, until Dominic gave him a sweet, but lusty kiss.

“Why does she call you the baby? You must be around my age—thirty, right?”

“Yeah. It’s a long story.”

Dominic’s gaze worked the room. It was a lovely house, if you liked hessian beanbags,

macramé plant holders and the smell of sage.

Oh, fuck. “Oh, no,” he said aloud, as Annie emerged with a smouldering bundle of the

stuff. Zam hated the smell of sage. It always reminded him of stinky tennis shoes.

“What’s happening?” Dominic look startled, when Annie—now adorned in pale pink

hot pants and a seventies-era cheesecloth top that left nothing to the imagination—began

waving the smoking herb around him.

“Smudging you,” she said. “Your aura is okay. As usual, Zamiel is a bundle of nerves

and sexual tension.” She hummed and haa-ed and suddenly said, “You’ve had sex. I see

some pheromones in the air!”

“Let me die now,” Zam muttered. This was worse than he’d expected.

“I don’t feel so bad about what my sister said,” Dominic announced. “You win, babe.”

As Annie began prancing around the room waving the bundle, he leaned into Zam through a

cloud of acrid smoke, whispering, “You’re right. Barmy!”

The two men laughed and Zam began to relax. Over cocktails of vodka and cranberry

juice, Maureen showed them her latest designs for a green college to be built in Beverly Hills.

“For a price tag of seventeen million.” She wore an almost identical outfit to her partner,

except Maureen had massive tatas and they kept spilling out of the top.

“Mom,” he said, giving her a meaningful look.

She glanced down. “Call me Maureen, darling. You know I don’t look old enough to

have a thirty-year-old son.”

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Yes, you do. Your girlfriend doesn’t, since she’s only twenty-eight.

She readjusted her assets and announced dinner wouldn’t be long.

Dominic wandered off to the kitchen to help her, leaving Annie and Zam to talk.

“He’s very nice,” Annie said. “Did I get his name right? Isn’t he the one you went to

arbitration with?”

Zam nodded, putting his finger to his lips.

“Well done!” She threw her arms around him, kissing the top of his head. “I’m so proud

of you being able to see past conflict to something that could be quite…splendid. If only your

father had your attitude.”

Zam bristled, ready to defend his father, when Dominic and his mother charged in with

dinner. Zam stared in dismay at the vegan meat tacos on his plate. He caught the look of

amusement on Dominic’s face.

“She swears the cooking oil isn’t the one she uses in her car,” Dominic deadpanned.

“Oh, you!” Maureen playfully slapped his arm. “Of course it isn’t.”

“Should I believe her?” Dominic’s beautiful blue eyes twinkled as he glanced at Zam.

“Well…I think so.”

“You don’t sound very sure, sweetie.”

Zam shifted in his seat. “Mom…I mean, Maureen is big on recycling. I’ve had her tacos

before. I think she’s recycled her old car tyres and turned them into fake meat.”

Dominic laughed.

“Now, that’s not nice.” Maureen fumed as Annie laughed with him.

Annie lifted her hands. “Sorry, darling, but they do always come out a little…rubbery.”

Dominic almost choked in his effort to swallow his first bite. Zam worried that the man

would run right out of the house. He really was having trouble chewing. They were all very

quiet as they worked through the meal. Dominic was a fantastic guest and left little on the

plate. As meals went, it wasn’t a bad one for Maureen, but Zam felt worse than ever for

inflicting such garbage on his new lover.

When it was all over and they’d suffered through dessert on top of the almost inedible

meal, the two men left. As they drove away from the house, Dominic shook his head. “I must

like you a lot,” he said, sotto voce, reaching across the seat to put his hand on Zam’s thigh.

Zam drove, grabbing Dominic’s fingers into his own.

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“God…I am so sorry. Usually, Annie cooks. She’s a fantastic chef.”

“I believe you. There’s something I need to ask you.”

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“When did they lose their baby?”

Fuck. How in the world does he know about that?

“I—” Emotion tore at Zam. Tears filled his eyes.

“Pull over, sweetie.” Dominic’s voice was quiet, but his tone authoritative. He put his

hand on the back of Zam’s neck, massaging him.

“Last year.” Zam kept his foot on the brake, trying not to give into the agony the baby’s

loss always caused him.

“What happened?”

Zam shook his head. “I can’t talk about it.” He started to sob. “Some days I can talk

about her… Today…I can’t. I’m sorry.” His head dropped to the wheel. The memory of that

beautiful child ripped at him.

“You have to talk about her. If you all lost her last year…maybe that’s what’s caused

your depression. I’ve been thinking about it. You don’t have writer’s block. You have life

block. You have ideas pouring out of you…but you can’t give expression to your grief. And

you’re going to have to, Zam. At some point, you’re going to have to tell her story.”

“No.” Zam lifted his head, awash with tears.

“I’m so sorry,” Dominic said, leaning across him. He put the gears into brake, shut off

the engine and took Zam into his arms. “I am so sorry.”

For a long time they sat that way as Zam’s story came out in pieces. He’d never told

anyone, except his father, the paramedics who’d tried to save baby Zoey…and the police.

“Annie carried the baby and she had a great pregnancy. I wasn’t happy that they chose

a home birth, that they wanted to work with a doula, but we’re so close to St John’s hospital

that I figured if anything went wrong we could call nine-one-one.”

After a lot of prompting, he continued his tale. Every time he recalled the incident he

wanted to die.

“Annie was in labour for two days. I thought it was an awfully long time but she

refused to get help. She said a doctor helping her would be like rape. I really felt offended by

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that because the situations are nothing alike. I have friends who’ve been raped…to me it was

insulting to their experiences.”

“So what happened? What went wrong?”

“I was the only man allowed there and I knew she was in trouble. My father got

worried when I called him. This was all out of my realm of experience. I had a bad argument

with Annie and finally the baby started to come. I called my dad when the baby was blue

and didn’t seem to be breathing. Annie refused to call nine-one-one. But my father did. That

beautiful man called the paramedics and he came to the house. He tried to help. For twenty

seconds, Zoe lived, but she’d had a cardiac arrest. She died in my arms, Dominic. For a few

seconds, she was there. I felt her spirit. And then she was…gone.”

The tears racked him again.

“You have to write this,” Dominic said. “Did you know that a hundred years ago

childbirth was the most dangerous thing a woman could do? Then it changed. Now, it’s gone

back full circle. This isn’t the first time I’ve heard a story like this. I happen to know

childbirth is the single biggest killer of women today…and not just in third world countries.”

“I know.” Zam was surprised Dominic knew this. “It’s like we’ve put them back into

the Dark Ages. I’d give anything to have violated their wishes—”

“You did. But then I know what would happen. They’d have their daughter, but you

would no longer be in their lives.”

Zam wiped his face with the back of his hands. “That’s what my dad said. They haven’t

forgiven him for interfering…even though they lost their child.” He took a deep breath.

“How do you know all this stuff?”

“My sister. She wants a home birth. I freaked out when I researched it and read the

statistics. Please…please tell her your story.”

Zam reached for the glove compartment and found an old tissue. “I will. You think it

will make a difference?” He ignored the bits of fluff floating in the car as he blew his nose.

“Yes, I do. She doesn’t believe me. She thinks I’m a scaremonger.”

“She’s married, isn’t she?”

“Yes. But her husband is one of those ‘yes dear’ types. It drives me nuts.” There was a

long moment of silence between them. It wasn’t awkward…it felt right. The air was

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weighted with heavy thoughts and dark words. Zam turned on the engine again and

lowered the window, gulping in fresh air.

“I think you’re right that I should tell our baby’s story. You see…I never felt as a gay

man that I would ever have children. To me, she was the sister I never had growing up and I

loved her before I even saw her. I’m still devastated. Her life force was gone so fast…” The

tears started coming again. He fought them off. “If I can convince your sister to have her

baby in the hospital, then I’ll feel like Zoey didn’t die in vain.”

“Sweetheart, this is a movie of the week.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“No, I mean it. I would love to see you write this as a TV movie. I have tons of

connections. I can help you get it made. Don’t you see? This is why you’ve been stuck. We

can unglue you.”

“We?”

“Yes…I’m happy to help.”

“Why?”

Dominic stared at him, his expression incredulous. “You have no idea, do you?”

“You’re right—I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I fell for you just reading Snakes and Ladders. It was the most innovative…charming

script I’d ever read. I knew it needed a little work and I like to think I improved it.”

“You did,” Zam admitted, “but it felt like you took all the credit.”

“No. It’s called promotion. You just slinked off and—”

“I was concentrating on Zoey. She died and I…went into a funk, but to be honest, I

thought it was more about the work.”

“It was probably both things. Having a movie released and all the stuff we went

through in arbitration, Lucy bullshitting both of us—”

“Why did you stay with her?” Zam asked. “I mean, you have a name. You could be

with anybody.”

“Honestly? She gets me work. I’ve learned to protect myself better. I had no idea you

were her client but she pushed for me to get Snakes and Ladders, and I loved what you

wrote… I kinda…developed a crush on you. I knew you hated me. I thought you knew the

deal I’d made with her and I hated what you put me through.”

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“No, until you told me about the deal you made, I had no idea.”

“You know, this would make a very good movie.” Dominic leaned into him and kissed

him.

“Where do we go from here?” Zam asked.

“I wanna see where the road takes us. I want to enjoy being with you. I—”

“No, silly. I mean now. Your place or mine? I’m closer. My place is only a few blocks

away.”

Dominic smiled and leant back into his seat. “Then, by all means, let’s go to your

place.”

Silence descended between them as they drove up to Zam’s house, but this time it

seemed filled with light and anticipation. Zam felt like a boulder had been dislodged from

his shoulders, having told Dominic about the baby. He parked on the street, worried that if

Will saw his car in the driveway he’d come barging into his house.

“We have to be quiet,” Zam said as they walked arm in arm up to his guest house. They

kept telling each other to shush, tripping over stones. They swapped kisses, laughter, and

then Zam led Dominic into the house via the kitchen.

They both tripped, making more noise just trying to be quiet. Zam locked the door, not

that it would stop Will if he wanted to barge in. He glanced out of the small window, but

Will’s house was shrouded in darkness.

He took Dominic by the hand into the bedroom and switched on a bedside lamp.

Dominic stared at the vase of Black-eyed Susans on the table.

“Holy shit,” he said. “Oh…my God.”

“What?” Zam asked.

Dominic’s face had turned ashen.

“What is it?” He was concerned now. What if his mom’s cooking had made the guy

sick?

“Those flowers.” Dominic pointed, his expression mortified.

“You don’t like them?”

“Are you kidding me? I love them. After all…I’m the one who put them there.”

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Chapter Six

Zam wanted to believe this was a bad joke, but he knew it wasn’t. “You’ve been fucking

Jason?”

“Shit…you too?” Dominic shook his head, as if to shake loose some bad memories.

“Twelve years now.”

“Me too.”

“God…you gave him Black-eyed Susans even then.”

“It was a kind of joke between us… I thought it was weird when I saw them in your tag

scene this morning. I thought, ‘Geez, he likes the same flowers I do!’”

He turned and stared at the vase again.

“Are you in love with him?” Zam asked.

“What? Are you kidding me right now? You think I’d be here if I were?”

Zam stared at him. “Twelve years, dude.”

“He’s my…go-to guy. For sex. I’m his go-to guy for…wait a second. You’re the guy

who helped him come out. I’d been seeing him, but realised he was a total narcissist. Over

the years we’ve seen each other but lately… I dunno. I’ve been wanting more.”

“Shit. Me too!” Zam couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I loved him once.”

“You did?” Dominic’s face turned pale again. “You don’t have those feelings now, do

you?”

“Of course not. I did get pissed that he was bringing somebody else here—”

“Yeah. That was weird. He called me and I happened to be heading out this way and I

agreed to meet him. I found these flowers at a store on my way. I have no idea why I keep

buying them for him. He never even seems to notice them.”

“You can buy them for me instead.”

Dominic grinned, looking happy for the first time. “You wanna know the joke about

these flowers?”

“Sure.”

“I met him online.”

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“That little hustler! I met him through the personals.”

Dominic chuckled. “He is a hustler. I met him on Love at AOL…before it became

Match.com. God…I feel like an old man right now.”

“You didn’t love him, even then?”

“No. I loved his body. But I hated the porn and everything he started getting into… But

anyway, the first things we talked about in our email exchanges were our favourite flowers

and cookies and stuff and I thought he said his favourite flowers were Black-eyed Susans,

but he was talking about cookies!”

Dominic started to laugh, reaching out for Zam.

“God…I feel like I’ve known you a hundred years. You really don’t want him?”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Good. Because I want you. Zam…please don’t see him anymore. Bringing me here was

tacky. I’m sorry about that.”

“I’m not. It made me dump him once and for all.”

They fell into one another’s arms, their passion swift and intense.

“Just a little bit of romance and then it’s back to work,” Dominic insisted.

“You’re a tyrant.”

“Stop saying that.” Dominic pushed him to the bed, but Zam wrestled him until he got

on top.

“Tyrant,” he said again, and kissed him.

“You’re going to get that If Come deal. I just know you are.”

“Thank you.” Zam leant down and kissed him. “If I do, it’s because of you. And if it

does come to pass, I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you because you gave me back my

mojo.”

They stared at each other a moment.

“My pleasure,” Dominic whispered as Zam began to kiss him. Both fully clothed, Zam

worked hard to remove every last item of clothing, surprised to find Dominic wearing very

tight, white boxer briefs. He was rock hard underneath them and Zam knelt on the bed

beside him. He dive-bombed the man’s crotch, exposing his delicious uncut shaft before

devouring it.

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He closed his fingers around Dominic’s balls, loving the feel of them in his hands. He

squeezed them as he nursed on Dominic’s swollen cock, swallowing it whole. He pulled his

mouth back, the glistening shaft slipping from his slick lips. Zam tongued the juicy head

again, tasting his lover’s seed, slurping it up and wanting more.

Dominic kept moaning. Zam moved to his knees, urging Dominic to do the same.

Dominic complied, letting out a gasp as Zam knelt behind him and began licking and

sucking his ass. Dominic’s ass tossed around on the bed with enjoyment. His body grew

warm and sweaty, Zam gripping his hips.

“Fuck,” Dominic rasped. “My turn. I’m hungry. I only got to eat fake meat tonight.”

He rolled over, grabbing Zam’s hips. Doggy-style was Zam’s favourite way to get eaten

and fucked. Dominic began tonguing his tight hole, using his fingers one at a time to work

him into a frenzy. Dominic slid on a rubber, entering Zam fast and deep. Zam stroked his

cock between his legs, stunned when Dominic cuffed his balls with his fist and squeezed. The

surge of pleasure was intense. Dominic kept powering into him, his balls slapping against

Zam’s thighs. He squeezed Zam’s ball sac so hard, orgasm wasn’t possible…but then

Dominic quickened his pace.

He exploded deep inside Zam, who bucked against him, meeting his every thrust.

Dominic pulled out of him and turned Zam onto his back. Flipping Zam’s legs up until his

feet hit Dominic’s shoulders, he fucked him hard, his hand working Zam’s cock. Zam came,

with Dominic smiling at him, urging him to come.

Zam did, his hands on Dominic’s face.

“I’ve fucking wanted you for a year,” Dominic whispered. “I wanted to fuck you for

every beautiful word you wrote.”

Nobody had ever talked to Zam like that. When they had fucked twice more, the two of

them spent, but happy, he slipped into Dominic’s arms, happier than he’d been in a long

time.

“Don’t think… Sleep,” Dominic ordered.

Zam kissed his cheek, grateful when Dominic turned out the bedside light, enjoying

being alone in the dark in this wonderful man’s arms.

They fell asleep, awakened only by the bashing sound on the kitchen door.

“Wake up, Zam!” a voice screamed.

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“Who the hell is that?” Dominic asked, looking groggy.

“My landlord.”

“Shit. Does he always do that? It’s…” He gaped at the digital clock. “It’s four o’clock in

the morning!”

Zam found his pants, threw them on then ran to the kitchen where his landlord stood,

keys in hand.

“I’m in love!” Will shouted.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. You busted in here to tell me that?”

“It’s a woman!” Will screamed. “Holy fucking Jesus! I now dig chicks!”

He ran from the kitchen, his shouts loud enough that Will’s entire compound must

have woken up since lights started popping on everywhere.

“Let’s go back to my place,” Dominic said. “Come on, sweetie. I really need to sleep and

I need to be alone with you.”

Zam had no problem with that. He picked up his shoes and shirt from the bedroom

floor.

“Hey. Pack some stuff, will ya? Bring your toiletries. We’re gonna have a little writers’

retreat.”

“A writers’ retreat?”

“Yeah.” Dominic dressed hurriedly. “Lots of sucking and fucking, eating and writing.

You’re gonna love it.”

“That sounds like fun.”

“Yeah.”

Zam threw some things into an overnight bag. He took the Black-eyed Susans out of the

vase.

“Why are you bringing those?”

“Because…I know you gave them to him, but I’ve coveted them for years. Nobody’s

ever given me flowers like that.”

“Then I will. Every day.” Dominic kissed him and took the bag as Zam ran around

looking for a plastic bag for the dripping flowers. Outside, the sky had turned the kind of

blue Zam loved.

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“It’s the writer’s blue,” Dominic said. “Where anything’s possible. Even love.” He gave

Zam a significant look and kissed him. They tore down the driveway, raced to the car and

made short work of the normally twenty-minute drive.

Alone in Dominic’s bedroom, they fell onto the bed, Zam clutching his flowers as

Dominic kissed him, undressing them both slowly. They moved into a sixty-nine, sucking

each other off noisily to blissful orgasms, falling asleep with their heads on each other’s feet.

Zam could smell the sweet, simple perfume of his Black-eyed Susans and they fuelled his

dreams.

In repose, Zam came up with the perfect tag scene to close the pilot episode of Angel

Inn. He rose from the bed, reluctant at first to leave Dominic alone all tangled up in the

sheets, but he had to get the scene down. Now. Because he knew he would never remember it

exactly the way it had first come to him.

Down in Dominic’s kitchen, he sat at the big wooden table, fired up the laptop and

stared at the dark mountains outside. Their solidity gave them strength.

He pulled up the document file and began to type.

End Tag Scene:

INT. DAY. A bedroom at Angel Inn.

Two men in love, naked in a bed, the sheets tousled, their kisses languorous. On the dresser is a

vase of Black-eyed Susans. Beside them is the ghostly vase of another bunch. In the doorway, the ghosts

of the two sailors we saw at the top of the episode stand at the foot of the bed, watching the living men
explore their passions.

First Sailor
Think they’re happy?

Second Sailor
(kissing his lover’s cheek)

Yeah. They’re happy. They’re in love. Just like we were.

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First Sailor
We still are…

(beat)

It’s amazing, though… I thought it would skip a generation
but your grandson has the same lousy taste in flowers!

The two men kiss, slowly falling to the floor, the sounds of the ghosts echoing against the

living…

FADE TO BLACK

Zam sat back for a moment, staring at the screen. He heard movement behind him and

turned to find a naked Dominic reading over his shoulder.

“You wrote the tag scene?” He put one arm around Zam’s shoulder, the other busy

scrolling up to the beginning of the scene.

“Wait…you think my flowers are crappy?”

Zam reached up and kissed Dominic’s bristly cheek.

“No, sweetie, but I thought it was a funny line.”

“It is, damn it. Would have been funnier if I’d written it.”

“No, it wouldn’t have. My line is funny.”

“Hmmm…” Dominic ruffled his hair. “We’ll have to agree to disagree…until I come up

with a funnier punchline.”

“Okay, I can live with that.”

“You can?” Dominic spun Zam’s chair around so they were now face to face. “You

wrote the tag scene, but there’s no middle.”

“Not yet. I need your help for that.”

“I like the ending, though,” Dominic said. Zam leaned in and began to lick the man’s

now hardening cock. “It has a happy ending, which I like.”

Zam came off his cock for just a moment. “Me too. I am all about happy endings.”

Dominic rubbed his cock against Zam’s lips. “So I’m thinking, we’re clear about the

beginning and the ending but we need to work on the middle bit.”

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“Uh-huh.” Zam began sucking the head back into his mouth.

“I like the middle bits.” Dominic seemed out of breath. “The middle bits are fun. Sex

whenever we want it… I mean…the characters… Oh fuck…I don’t know what I mean.”

Zam released Dominic’s cock from his mouth, letting his fingers work up and down the

slick shaft. He loved watching the foreskin slip back and forth.

“I know what you mean.”

Dominic reached down, stroking Zam’s hair out of his eyes. “You do?”

“Yeah. But I’m all about show, don’t tell.” Zam swallowed Dominic’s cock in one gulp.

He closed his eyes, savouring the taste of him, the feel of his wonderful skin. If it came to

pass that he got to have a beginning and a lifetime of the ‘middle bits’ with Dominic Glass,

he decided he’d be the luckiest man alive…

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About the Author

A.J. Llewellyn lives in California, but dreams of living in Hawaii. Frequent trips to all
the islands, bags of Kona coffee in the fridge and a healthy collection of Hawaiian
records keep this writer refuelled. A.J. never lacks inspiration for male/male erotic
romances and on the rare occasions this happens, A.J. pursues other passions such as
collecting books on Hawaiiana, surfing and spending time with friends and animal
companions. A.J. Llewellyn believes that love is a song best sung out loud.

Email:

AJ@AJLlewellyn.com

A.J. Llewellyn loves to hear from readers. You can find A.J.’s contact information,
website and author biography at

http://www.total-e-bound.com

Also by A.J. Llewellyn

The Bouncer

The Mediator

Paper Valentine

Pearl Harbor Series: Vagabond Heart

Pearl Harbor Series: Gypsy Heart

Pearl Harbor Series: Abiding Heart

Cloaks and Daggers: Stavros

Sins of Summer: Burnt Island

Sins of Autumn: Full

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Serena Yates

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Dedication

To all those who have ever wondered whether Earth is their true destiny.

WINTER CHALLENGE

Serena Yates

151

Chapter One

“Oh my God.” Noah Goldwin felt his stomach plummet. He gripped the well-padded

armrests of his leather office chair tightly as he closed his eyes to help him absorb the

shocking news. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sorry to be the one to have to tell you, sweetie.” Aunt Miryam, the only member of

his family still speaking to him, sounded years older than her usual bubbly self. “I’m even

sorrier that your useless excuse of a brother didn’t bother to pick up the phone to let you

know. He has no right to keep this from you.”

“It’s not your fault.” None of it was. Not the accident and not the fact that Preston was

an asshole. He always had been ever since Noah could remember, and it certainly wouldn’t

get any better now.

“I know that. I still feel sorry. Actually, I’m beginning to lean towards anger now.”

Aunt Miryam had a vicious temper. Once something or someone upset her, she was not

easily appeased. And the way Noah had been treated had never sat easy with her. “I mean,

this isn’t some minor bit of family news—it’s pretty big.”

Yeah, he’d call his father dying in a head-on collision ‘pretty big’. Noah leant back in his

chair and closed his eyes. He only had minutes until his next patient would demand his

attention, so he had to get himself together. There had been no love lost between him and his

father for a long time. Noah’s recent decision to go into paediatrics instead of becoming a

surgeon, which would at least have given him some status in his father’s eyes, had been the

last straw in breaking up a relationship that had never been easy.

Noah’s father had thought Noah was too ‘soft’ and had never hesitated to tell him.

Business was the only acceptable career in his father’s eyes, yet Noah had put his foot down

and had gone into medicine. His elder brother, Preston, seven years Noah’s senior, was more

than capable of handling the family empire. Noah didn’t want to think about ways to make

more money—he was interested in helping people. Neither his father nor his brother would

ever understand that.

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Despite all that, his father’s death was still hitting him hard, and not just because it had

been sudden and totally unexpected. After all, the man was his father, and had sort of raised

Noah and provided for him, at least financially, for many years. Noah sighed. He’d have to

make arrangements for a trip back to Miami for the funeral on Friday, had to let his superiors

know so he could get time off work and ask one of his colleagues to take over until he’d get

back. Not the best thing to have to do just after starting his three-year residency as a future

paediatric doctor at the prestigious Children’s Memorial Hospital in Chicago. He pinched the

bridge of his nose with his free hand to try to stave off the encroaching headache. They had

to realise he hadn’t planned for this to happen, didn’t they?

“Are you still there?” Aunt Miryam sounded as if she’d already asked a couple of

times. Right…he was still on the phone.

“Yeah, sorry, just trying to figure out what to do.” He’d better make a list before he

forgot all the details.

“You’ll manage, I’m sure.” She was always so supportive, something she had in

common with her sister, Noah’s mother.

“I’ll do my best.” Noah had been only ten when she’d drowned in a freak diving

accident, the cause of which remained unknown to this day. His father had been with her,

but was tight-lipped about what had happened. Noah still missed her horribly. At least she

had understood and accepted him.

Snap out of it, there’s no point in dwelling on ancient history.

“That’ll be more than enough.” Her smile came through loud and clear. “Will you come

see me when you’re here? I do miss you!”

“Of course I’ll visit. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” It sucked that he wouldn’t be able

to acknowledge her at the funeral, but there was no point in causing a scandal. Noah’s father

and brother hated Aunt Miryam with a vengeance. Noah wasn’t sure why, and it had made

his life a lot lonelier until he was eighteen and had become his own man, but there was no

point in bringing it up in the current situation.

“Good. I look forward to it.” She cleared her throat. “Now, get your stuff together and

come over here as soon as you can. Love you.”

“Love you back.” Noah smiled as he ended the phone call with their traditional

farewell, put down the receiver then scribbled a quick list before the knock on the door

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announced his patient was there. Luckily, it was the last appointment of the day, so he’d be

able to organise himself further later that night.

“Come in.” Noah sat up straight, reopening the patient file he’d studied before the

interruption. The little three-year-old boy was here for an initial assessment, but from the

symptoms his parents had listed, it looked as if he might have a congenital heart disorder.

Noah would make his evaluation then possibly ask for a few studies or procedures to find

out for sure. A staff physician would be on hand to discuss any results before the final

diagnosis and treatment decision. Noah was glad for the help. He may have four years of

medical school and some internships under his belt, but being thrown in at the deep end like

this was very different. It was heart-breaking how some young lives were already threatened

right after they’d begun. He wanted to do everything in his power to help save as many of

them as possible.

“Doctor Goldwin?” A dark haired beauty who must be the boy’s mother stuck her head

in the door, her son clinging to her with all his might.

“Yes, please come in.” Noah smiled to appear as unthreatening as possible. “I was just

going through your son’s file. Please, have a seat.”

“Thank you.” The mother walked in, holding the small boy in her arms, and sat down.

She looked grateful already. “This is little Dirk.”

I sure hope I won’t disappoint them!

* * * *

Shit, but the Miami City Cemetery was a depressing place. The sense of history

conveyed notwithstanding, it was exactly like Noah remembered from his mother’s funeral.

Only then he’d had Aunt Miryam with him, since even his father hadn’t dared tell her she

couldn’t attend her own sister’s burial.

Even though the sun wouldn’t set for another three hours or so, the cloud cover was

thick enough to make everything look grey and desolate. Row upon row of graves, each

tombstone a reminder of a life lived and lost, didn’t help improve his mood. But the

encroaching darkness really was depressing. Adding that to the humidity and temperatures

that he’d never been comfortable with, even this late in November, and he was increasingly

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miserable. He loved the cold, crisp winter days in the north a lot more than this murky and

much too warm climate.

The Goldwin family crypt was located in the easternmost section, and Noah couldn’t

wait for the official part to be done. The memorial service had taken over an hour, and most

of the people there were business contacts that Noah neither knew nor cared to find out more

about. Now the family was standing near the mausoleum as people came up to them to offer

their condolences. Preston hadn’t even acknowledged Noah. What was up with that?

His brother seemed shaken but apparently his grief wasn’t too serious. From what

Noah could hear, he was networking as people came up to him, making sure to emphasise

common business interests and saying ‘my father would have wanted it this way’ more often

than seemed appropriate to Noah. He was not looking forward to the reading of the will,

which had been scheduled an hour from now.

When the endless line of people had finally trickled down to just a few stragglers, he

turned to Preston.

“Are we going to share the car to the lawyer’s office or do you want me to make my

own way?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to share anything with Preston, but the man was his

brother, after all. Shouldn’t they at least try to get along?

“Who says you’re coming?” Preston sneered, distorting the features of his classically

elegant face that was so different from Noah’s almost elfin appearance.

“What?” Noah took a step back, a cold sense of foreboding spreading through his body.

“You heard me.” Preston lifted his arm and pointed at Noah. “You have been coddled

long enough. I have no idea why Dad didn’t tell you the truth a long time ago. But I sure as

hell won’t continue this ridiculous pretence now that I’m in charge.”

“What truth?” God, what was Preston talking about? As for having been coddled, he

had no clue what Preston was referring to. Their father had constantly been on his case for

one imagined infraction or another. Preston was the one who had received constant praise,

making Noah feel like the idiot brother.

“Oh, please, don’t tell me you haven’t figured it out yet.” Preston rolled his eyes. “Just

look at how different we are, can you honestly say you’ve never at least wondered how we

could possibly be related?”

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Noah’s jaw dropped. Yeah, he had wondered, but more because of their differences in

temperament. Siblings looked physically dissimilar all the time, didn’t they? Genes didn’t

always pass on the same characteristics from parents to children. That didn’t have to mean

anything, surely.

“I give up.” Preston threw his hands into the air, turned away and started marching

towards the black limo—the one reserved for family members, or so Noah had been told.

“What do you mean you give up?” Anger boiled to the surface and Noah ran after

Preston to make sure he’d get an answer before his brother left. Having this fight in front of

their lawyers wasn’t something Noah wanted to contemplate. “You haven’t even told me

anything useful yet.”

“You really are too dense to get it.” Preston had reached the car and turned around.

“We. Are. Not. Related.”

“What?” Noah hated being monosyllabic, but this was just too much.

“You were adopted, moron. Mom insisted we take you in after she found you, and Dad,

stupidly in love as he was, gave in.” Preston snickered. “I wouldn’t have, that’s for sure.”

“I’m adopted?” Noah stumbled, suddenly needing all his energy and focus just to stay

upright. “She found me? Where? Did they ever try to contact my real parents?”

“Where would they have looked? There was nothing but ice and snow for miles. It’s a

miracle you survived.” Preston waved at the driver to open the door. “So, you see? You

really have no business at the reading of the will. I’m sure Dad hasn’t left you anything

anyway, and even if he has, I will contest every cent.”

And with that, Preston got into the limo and left Noah standing there, feeling as though

the ground had been pulled out from under his feet. The only thought he was capable of at

that moment was, Thank God I’m not related to the asshole after all.

To top it all off, the skies opened and it started to rain.

Great.

* * * *

Noah still felt numb an hour later when he approached Aunt Miryam’s apartment

building. At least he’d thought to get a rental car. With money still being tight, even on a

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resident doctor’s salary, he’d hesitated at first. Ultimately, the thought of being dependent on

his brother for transportation or of having to pay for cabs had made the decision for him.

Aunt Miryam’s home was located in a beautiful, well-maintained high rise in Sunrise

Harbor, just south of Miami. It had a great view of the ocean and a lot of space for his aunt to

spread out in. What with her drawing and never wanting to sell any of her works, she

needed lots of wall space.

He parked in one of the visitor spaces and took a deep breath. It wasn’t every day you

found out you weren’t who you thought you were. He’d called Aunt Miryam right after he’d

collected his stuff from his father’s—now Preston’s—house. To his utter shock, his aunt had

admitted she’d known about the deception but had asked him not to judge her until he knew

the whole story. He’d got in the car immediately, more than curious to find out what was

going on.

Minutes later he rang the bell at her door, only to have it opened immediately. She

spread her arms and he stepped closer to hug her tightly. She was only just above five and a

half feet tall, but she had a lot of presence and was fiercely protective of those she loved. Her

curly blonde hair had been pulled back into a bun, her reading glasses were askew and her

choice of clothing was as colourful as ever. She looked more like a rainbow than a woman in

her early fifties.

“I’m so glad you could come.” She squeezed him one last time then stepped back to

pull him into her hallway before closing and locking the door. “I’ve got some cocoa ready for

you. We can sit in the kitchen if you want?”

“Please.” It was his favourite place in most houses. He had no idea why he liked it so

much, but he’d never been allowed to go there in his father’s house, not after his mother’s

death, anyway.

“Just sit, I’ll get you a mug.” Aunt Miryam bustled around for a bit, filling two mugs

then adding a plate full of fresh-baked cookies to the array on the little table in the breakfast

nook. It was such a cosy sight, a great contrast to the greyness outside.

“Thank you.” He took his first sip and closed his eyes. The hot sweetness slid down his

throat and warmed him from the inside out. It wasn’t just the temperature of the drink,

though. There was something about the ritual of sharing it with a loved one that went bone

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deep. This felt all kinds of right to him, even though they weren’t in front of a fireplace with

a blizzard blowing outside…

And why was that one of the most constant images his mind conjured up when he

needed comfort? He’d never even lived north of Miami until he’d moved to Baltimore for

college and medical school, then to Chicago for his residency. He’d spent most of his life in

warmer places, so why he seemed to think a blizzard outside was normal and right was

beyond him.

“Feeling better?” Her voice sounded almost as soothing as his mother’s, and he opened

his eyes again to look into the same hazel eyes with golden green flecks that he remembered

from his early childhood. Except that he now knew that woman hadn’t been his mother and

the one sitting across from him wasn’t really his aunt. Shit!

“Yes and no.” Noah shook his head. “To be honest, I don’t even know what to feel right

now. I keep wanting to rewind time to make it all undone, but since that isn’t going to

happen, I’m hoping you can give me some perspective or information that will help me cope.

Anything to let me understand why the hell they lied to me all these years, why you never

said anything and what the fuck I’m going to do now?”

Aunt Miryam winced. Or should he even call her ‘Aunt’ anymore? Force of habit, and

the fact that he wished she were really his aunt, made him decide to retain the title for now.

“Sorry about the language.” He should know better. At the very least he needed to stay

polite. It would give him something to hold on to.

“It’s okay. I’ve heard worse from my artist friends.” She grinned, showing dimples.

“Just not from you, as well behaved as you’ve always been.”

“Yeah, well, things look kind of different now.” He sighed and leant back in his chair,

keeping the half-full mug in his hands to keep them still.

“I know they do. And I’m sorry I never said anything.” She leant forwards and took one

of his hands. “But you’ve got to understand two things. First of all, your father told me if I

ever let you know, he’d make my life impossible. Knowing him, he would have made it hell.

And the other reason was that you seemed okay with your life. While it was hard after Batya

died, your father didn’t abuse you and I didn’t think taking the only home you knew away

would have been right.”

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“So you didn’t think that being with my real parents might have been better for me

than years of living under that man’s rule?” He couldn’t even get himself to think of the guy

as his father anymore.

“If I knew who they were…” Aunt Miryam withdrew her hand.

“You don’t? So Preston was right when he said they ‘found’ me?” Oh, shit, that was

worse than he’d expected.

“Yes, unfortunately. Your mother and I were hiking just north of Yellowknife, in

Canada, while your father and Preston went skiing for the day. We were wandering around

Fox Lake.” Her gaze became unfocused, as if she was looking at her memory. “As incredible

as this may sound, we actually found you, covered by dead leaves and half frozen in the

snow. It was January and unbelievably cold, but you didn’t look worse for the wear. We took

you to the local hospital to get you checked, and they gave you a clean bill of health.”

“Found? In the snow? In Canada?” Not that any one of those facts was more or less

likely than the others. It was all pretty weird. If only this were a dream.

“It was the strangest thing. They combed the entire area, but there was no trace of

whoever left you there.” She shook her head. “Batya insisted she keep you, and even though

your father didn’t initially want to, he never could refuse her anything, so they ended up

taking you in. Preston wasn’t happy either, since he was suddenly not the only adored son

anymore.”

“Well, that explains why he was always so nasty to me.” This just sucks. “What am I

going to do now? I feel like I need to go up there and look for myself. But there’s no point, is

there?”

“I’m not sure what I should tell you. It’s understandable you’d want to see for yourself,

though it’s pretty unlikely you would find anything, especially after all this time. But it’s not

like there is much for you here, either. I mean, we knew Preston never liked you, but for him

to go this far, to exclude you from the inheritance, is pretty bad. I’m not even sure he can

legally do it—after all, you were officially adopted. You have rights.” Her eyes sparkled, the

old fighting spirit still in evidence.

“Oh, I don’t want to get into a legal battle. He’s welcome to all of it. I have my own life

now anyway, haven’t been dependent on outside financing for a while.” Noah shrugged

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when her eyes widened. “What? Have you ever known me to make decisions based on

money or financial advantages?”

“No, I guess I haven’t. Good for you!” She smiled. “Now, before you decide anything,

there is something I have to give you.”

“Give me?” He frowned, but she’d already got up and was walking towards her

bedroom.

After several minutes of mysterious rustling and some incoherent mumbles, she

returned, holding a white cloth that seemed to be wrapped around something. She handed

the little package to him. It felt warm and vibrated slightly as soon as he touched it.

What the fuck?

“Open it and see.” She seemed unaware of the strange sensations that coursed through

his body. “This was found with you, and Batya asked me to keep it safe. I guess there was a

level on which she didn’t trust her husband either.”

“Wow, this might be a clue to my real origins.” He unfolded the cloth slowly, not sure

where that totally irrational thought had come from or what he expected. When he was done,

a metal-looking ring on a chain lay on the fabric. It seemed to vibrate with an energy that

called to him. “What is this thing?”

“I have no idea.” Aunt Miryam stared at the piece of jewellery. “It’s never done that

before.”

He raised his eyebrows but wasn’t able to look away. The ring drew him like a magnet.

Did he dare put it on? What could go wrong? It was just a ring. And anyway, what else was

he going to do? With an audible gulp, he put the cloth onto the table, opened the chain and

lifted the ring. It felt warmer in his hand than it had through the cloth, and it was humming.

A bluish light came from its centre and Noah almost stopped what he was doing.

In the end, curiosity won. He slipped the ring onto his left hand and waited.

Nothing.

He blinked and suddenly the room around him was gone. He stood in the middle of a

snow-covered winter landscape, the trees around him softly swaying in the wind. A stranger

stood opposite him and his beauty rendered Noah mute with admiration.

He was at least six and a half feet tall, had broad shoulders and black, straight hair that

was cut close to his head. His eyes were the deep brown of cocoa, and his face possessed a

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rugged handsomeness that was only enhanced by his full, red lips. His skin colour was a few

shades lighter than his eyes.

Then the stranger smiled and took a few steps towards Noah.

My God, he’s gorgeous! Noah had always known he was gay, even if he’d never come out

to his family, but this stranger was handsome enough to turn a straight man gay. The grace

of his movements was matched by the silence of his approach. If the tension between them

ratcheted any higher, Noah might faint…or spontaneously come, whichever happened first.

When the stranger held out a hand and touched Noah’s skin, he was pretty sure the

explosion in his pants would beat any potential fainting spell by hours. He stood rooted to

the spot as the stranger took him into his arms.

“Thank the gods you came back.” His voice was low and rumbled almost straight into

Noah’s body.

“Came back?” He was more confused than he’d ever been, and his hardening cock

didn’t exactly help him focus. His arms went around the other man’s middle of their own

accord. Suddenly, nothing mattered anymore. He was warm, this amazing man clearly

wanted him, if only for right now, and he had nowhere better to be. Why not make use of

this hallucination and have some fun for once? “Doesn’t matter. I am Noah and I’d like to get

to know you better.”

“I am Ataro.” The man smiled.

Noah tilted his head and parted his lips, curious what the man would do. As hoped for,

Ataro bent his head and put a careful kiss on Noah’s lips.

“More.” Noah smiled invitingly.

“Yes!” Ataro lifted a hand to hold Noah steady by taking hold of his neck.

Noah had never felt so excited, turned on and ready to come within seconds. After

minutes of delicious exploration of Ataro’s mouth, he had to pull back for some oxygen. As

soon as he did, Ataro shimmered and flickered, like a mirage. But at the same time he felt so

real in Noah’s arms.

“Don’t go!” Noah didn’t want to lose him. He had so many questions as well. And he

wanted more kisses like that.

“Come find me.” Ataro lifted a hand and stepped back.

“How?”

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“Follow your heart.” Ataro smiled and vanished completely.

Fuck!

Noah closed his eyes, hoping that Ataro would be back when he opened them, but

instead he found that he was still in Aunt Miryam’s kitchen.

What the hell just happened?

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Chapter Two

City of Boreas, capital of Khinan

Twenty-seven Earth years earlier…

“Ouch!” Ataro screamed as pain stabbed his head. Tears rolled down his cheeks even

though he didn’t want to cry. He was a big boy now, ready to start school soon, Daddy had

said so. But the pain was really, really bad. Someone must be hitting him very hard, but

when he turned around, making the building blocks tumble all over the nursery’s floor,

nobody was there.

“What’s wrong, Ataro?” Ifela got up from the chair in the corner, dropping her book

and running towards him.

“It hurts.” He kept looking around him, wanting to find who was doing this to him. He

grabbed his head, trying to push the pain away. “Make it stop!”

But it wouldn’t stop. Ifela couldn’t make it go away, and even when the nanny had

called his mother and she’d taken him into her arms, the pain remained. By the time his

father and the physician were informed, Ataro was whimpering. The pain wasn’t even the

worst of it anymore. The feeling of something important missing, of something having been

removed, was far worse.

“Okay, I know this is difficult for you.” The physician tried to smile, but it didn’t look

very convincing to Ataro. “I will need to examine you, and you’ll have to tell me exactly

what you’re feeling.”

“I told you already. I told everyone. My head hurts!” Stupid man.

“I have to know where it hurts, and what else you can feel.” The physician pulled a

chair up to sit across from Ataro, looking at him expectantly.

“It’s okay, sweetie. I’ve got you.” Mommy tightened her embrace. “Just tell the

physician as much as you can.”

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“My head hurts. Inside. But it feels like someone is hitting it from the outside. And I’m

empty. Like I lost something.” Ataro wiped his tears away, hating that he was so weak. But

he wanted to see the physician clearly, and the tears were in the way.

“Okay, that helps. Thank you, Ataro.” The physician tilted his head like Ataro did

when he wanted to think carefully about something. The slightly scary man pulled his

healing ring out of his jacket pocket, the same ring he’d used when Ataro had a tummy ache.

“This is going to help me understand what’s causing the pain.”

Ataro nodded. He didn’t care how the physician did it—he just wanted the pain to go

away. Right now.

“Here we go.” The physician put his hands on Ataro’s head, palms against his temples,

and closed his eyes. He frowned then opened them again. “This is strange.”

“What is?” Daddy took a step closer and took Mommy’s hand. “I don’t want to hear

you say things are strange, Doctor Kagiso—we know that. What I want to hear is how you

plan to help my son!”

“Well, from what I’m feeling, he’s experiencing the symptoms of psychic link

separation.” The physician’s frown deepened. “I can’t explain how this is possible. He’s too

young to be able to develop a psychic link on his own, and I have no idea who would have

helped him. Nor why. There is absolutely no reason to have links between children. As far as

we know, it only harms them and slows their development. I’ll have to check the medical

archives to find out if there have been any cases like this before, since I’m not aware of any.

But the pattern of pain in his brain and what he said about feeling empty seems to indicate

exactly that—a broken link.”

“Gods protect us.” Daddy took two steps back and sat down on the last available chair,

his hands shaking.

Ataro whimpered again, and this time it wasn’t just the pain. Daddy was never afraid,

so this must be really bad.

“I didn’t do it!” He was beginning to feel guilty for causing the problem, whatever it

was. He grabbed the lonsdaelite ring he wore on a chain around his neck. He was going to be

allowed to wear it when he was a grown-up, but for now he took comfort from the cold but

soothing waves it sent into his body. It didn’t take the pain away, but it made it more

bearable somehow.

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“No, of course you didn’t.” Daddy stopped looking scared and sat up straight. “What

do we do?”

“There isn’t much we can do.” The physician lifted his hands as though to prevent

Ataro’s parents from yelling at him. “Let me finish. I can give the boy something for the pain,

and we’ll need to start his psychic training early so he can deal with the effects the separation

anxiety will have on his mind. But—and this is a big but—there’s no cure for a broken link.

The best chance of fixing it would be to find whoever he was apparently linked to and get

them to reconnect. If that can’t be done, we need to find a replacement as quickly as possible.

As you know, those of us with psychic powers—once bonded—cannot survive a separation.”

“Okay, we’ll start a search immediately. I’ll put the best trackers on the case.” Daddy

looked much better now. He always did when there was something he could do.

“Good, good.” The physician pulled a small bottle containing some sort of pink

substance from the leather bag at his feet. “A spoonful of this with every meal should help

with the pain. I’ll be back tomorrow to see how Ataro is doing. Hopefully, I’ll have some

news about available trainers by then.”

“Very well.” Daddy nodded, looking thoughtful. “Only the best will do.”

“Of course.” The physician nodded. “A small snack with the first dose would be ideal,

so he can start right away.”

Ifela approached with cookies from the secret stash in the nursery, and Mommy opened

the bottle with the pink stuff.

“Just make sure he eats a full meal as soon as he can after this.” The physician got up,

bowed and left the room.

The cookies tasted great, but the pink substance was bitter and horrible. He almost spat

it out again, but Daddy had a stern look on his face, so he swallowed. Yuck! Don’t want to eat

that ever again. But the pain changed to a dull thumping as soon as he’d swallowed the stuff.

Maybe it wasn’t all bad?

* * * *

City of Boreas

Fifteen Earth years ago

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“I don’t care if it’s not appropriate for the president’s son to stand guard duty.” Ataro

only just managed to hold back from banging the festive table with his fist. The ring he’d

finally been allowed to slide onto his finger this morning vibrated a little as if in sympathy. It

was his fifteenth birthday, he was now officially considered a man, and he was finally going

to do what he knew was right. “The connection to my psychic partner may have

unexpectedly and inexplicably broken ten years ago, but based on everything the psychic

trackers have been able to determine, he isn’t to be found in our realm. They said he is in a

parallel dimension, whatever that means, and the closest corresponding place to his last

known location here is Fox Lake. The guard station in the southern district is right next to the

only damned trace we ever found of him, so I’m dammed well going to stay as close to it as

possible.”

“Language!” His mother had paled, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t due to the

language he’d used.

“Never mind that.” His father waved it aside with his usual nonchalance when facing

something that wasn’t a concern for him. “I think you have the wrong priorities, Ataro, and

I’ve told you this for many years. Maybe now that you’re a man, as you say, you’ll finally

understand what I mean. Chasing after an elusive psychic partner who might be dead, and

whom we can’t reach because we don’t know how to travel to this parallel dimension, is as

pointless as trying to build a fire in newly fallen snow. You should focus on your

representative duties as my younger son and finally take your responsibilities seriously.

Your elder brother can’t be expected to function without your support forever.”

“I am taking them seriously, that’s why I need to find a way to find and contact my

psychic partner.” Why would his father not understand? “I’m totally useless without him,

and you know it. I’ll be no help to my brother like this, nor to you, and I’ll do anything to fix

it as quickly as possible.”

“No, actually I don’t understand why you’re behaving like this.” His father leant

forwards and scowled at him. “Most people function fine without a psychic partner. I don’t

know why you’re being so obstinate about this. Doctor Kagiso did a great job healing you

and has offered you more than a few potential replacements who would have been good

matches. Why do you keep refusing them?”

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“Because they aren’t right for me.” Ataro had no idea how to explain it, but every time

he’d tried to build a link with any of the offered ‘alternatives’, his headache had got worse,

sometimes to the point where he had to vomit. Not that he was going to admit he still had

the headache. The pain medication had dulled his senses and made him stupid, so he’d

stopped taking it as soon as he was old enough to understand what was going on. Living

with a background headache was definitely the lesser of two evils.

“Are you sure that’s not just your stubborn pride speaking?” His mother had always

maintained he should have just tried harder to make a link work with someone else, even if it

wasn’t perfect. According to her, it was better than nothing, which was what most Khinans

had since psychic bonds were comparatively rare. She didn’t have a clue either. Not that he

could blame her, since she was part of the ‘insensitive’ majority who were unable to link to

others. He might not have been able to explain it to her, but she could have tried to take his

word for it.

“Yes, I’m sure. Look, I have physical symptoms when trying to link with these people

who are supposed to be a good match. They may be close, but I can feel that they’re not right

for me on the psychic level.” He sighed. “Look, this isn’t getting us anywhere. I’ve studied

the archives and there are lots of precedents for politician’s sons, even high-ranking ones,

joining the military for a few years. Standing guard at one of the capital’s outposts is no

different from that. So I know there’s no legal reason for you to stop me.”

“What about your studies?” His mother had always been far more concerned about his

education than his father. The Khinan’s current ruler was happy as long as Ataro kept up

with his political studies, economics and military strategy. Even though the presidency

wasn’t passed from parent to child, there had been plenty of cases in recent history where

this did happen, mostly because it made sense to elect the best-trained individuals.

“Don’t worry—I’ll have enough time to work on those. I’ll make sure to hand in

assignments on a regular basis. Happy?” He’d need something to keep his mind occupied

and distracted after a boring day of guard duty. The finding of further clues, or so he hoped,

would challenge him as well, but it might not be enough.

“Not happy, but I guess it’ll have to do.” His mother patted his hand. “I know you’ll do

your best.”

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“I still think you’re making a huge mistake.” His father leant back and lifted his hands

in surrender. “But I’m not going to stop you. As you said, you’re now a man and you’ll need

to make your own mistakes if you’re ever going to learn anything worthwhile.”

“Thank you.” Well, that had gone a lot better than he’d expected.

A few days later he had his assignment to the outpost in the far south of the city. He

wasn’t proud of having used his status to influence the location of his posting, but he didn’t

know what else to do. Now he only had to get through basic training, and he could start the

real journey of discovery. The one he’d waited years to be able to make.

Whoever you are, and wherever you’re hiding, I will find you!

* * * *

When the gruelling basic training was finally over and done with three months later,

Ataro was surprised he’d survived it. They’d probably gone extra hard on him, hoping he’d

give up, but he hadn’t let that stop him. Now he was done and the troop transporter was

approaching the place he’d been waiting for years to see. Not that he expected much of a

physical presence for something that was pretty elusive, but just getting close, at least in his

dimension, filled him with hope.

The most distinguishing feature of the area, other than the outpost building, was a

frozen waterfall. He knew that in summer, when it was slightly warmer, it fed the small lake.

A small wooden cabin sat to one side of the lake. Enough firewood was stacked to its

windward wall to last the winter. Hopefully. If not, he was sure he’d be able to find an axe

somewhere, and there were more than enough trees in the forest surrounding three sides of

the lake.

They had approached from the north, the heavy wheels of the transporter crunching in

the snow, and stopped about a hundred metres away from the cabin. He grabbed his bag of

gear and a second one with books and other personal items then jumped out of the

transporter just as the dwelling’s door opened and his predecessor walked out.

A brief exchange of greetings later he waved his colleagues goodbye and made his way

towards the cabin. He couldn’t wait to go exploring.

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* * * *

City of Boreas, Southern District
Present day

Ataro almost regretted that it was that time of year again. While he looked forward to a

month of solitude, he was beginning to doubt the wisdom of following his instincts.

No, that wasn’t right, he was following his damned heart.

For fifteen years now, at every winter solstice, he’d felt an undeniable pull towards Fox

Lake and the little cabin next to it. Not having found anything to confirm that his psychic

partner had been in that area so long ago, he’d eventually given up his regular posting. His

parents had been relieved at first, but he still hadn’t been able to link to another psychic, and

he still returned to the place in the snow two weeks before every winter solstice and stayed

for a month.

He approached the cabin in his small but comfortable snowmobile. The waterfall was as

frozen as ever, no longer even thawing during the increasingly shorter summers. It hadn’t

stopped him from exploring it more closely. Touching it had given him an unusual kind of

thrill, as if his partner was just on the other side of it. All he could ‘see’ was a sort of thick

fog, but it had been strange enough to keep him coming back.

As soon as he’d officially taken over the outpost, the other guard got onto his troop-

issued snowmobile and took off along the path that led back to the city. Ataro dropped his

bags inside the cabin, turned around on his heels and headed for the waterfall after carefully

closing the cabin door. Letting heat escape wasn’t just a fineable offence, but around here—

where backup was at least a few hours away, and that was under good conditions—it was a

crime of stupidity.

Ataro approached the waterfall slowly and carefully. Something felt different this time.

His ring was warmer than usual and when he’d reached the waterfall and touched it, like he

had a hundred times before, the faint trace of a psychic link was suddenly a little less faint.

He closed his eyes to focus better, and a surge of sexual energy raced straight from his hand

to his cock, shocking him into stepping back and losing contact.

What the hell?

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Was this what the psychics in some of the older documents had referred to? Was he one

of the few Khinans who had more than a ‘working’ link with his psychic partner? And if he

was, would that explain why he’d never been able to let go, or give up hope? Was he actually

looking for his life partner?

If that was it…why the hell did the guy have to live in another dimension? And why

had they been connected before, but separated now? Was someone trying to keep them

apart? He snorted. Yeah, right. Paranoia wasn’t going to help him, so he’d better focus on the

task ahead. Figuring out how to communicate with the stranger had just become an even

higher priority.

With only a little trepidation, driven by curiosity and the urgent need to finally find out

who this mysterious man was, Ataro touched the waterfall again and let the waves of psychic

energy envelop him. He leaned with his back against the cold rock, not caring about the

potential damage to his health, and closed his eyes.

His focus immediately improved, but so did the strangeness of the situation. Suddenly,

he stood in a forest clearing, surrounded by snow-covered trees. A stranger, surely none

other than his mysterious psychic partner, stood opposite him. Ataro’s jaw dropped with

how gorgeous the man looked. Only years of diplomatic training stopped him from openly

showing his shock and delight.

The guy was dressed a little strangely, in dark blue pants that looked as if they’d be

rough on the skin, thick boots, and a heavy, puffed-up coat. Not much of his body was

visible, but Ataro had the distinct impression that he was slender but strong underneath all

that clothing. His hair was black as soot, his eyes the bright blue of a summer sky and his

skin almost as white as the snow all around them. His facial structure was fine-boned, and he

had a high forehead.

But that wasn’t all. The waves of psychic energy between them almost overwhelmed

Ataro, and they hadn’t even touched yet.

“Ataro?” The stranger grinned from ear to ear. “I found you!”

“You know my name?” How was that even possible?

“Of course I do. You told me.” The stranger’s face fell. “Or don’t you remember?”

“We have met before?” Why can’t I remember?

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“Yeah, right here.” The stranger lifted his hand and made a circle around them. “About

two weeks ago.”

“In the middle of the forest?” His eyebrows rose.

“Yes.” The stranger took a step back. “Except it was a dream back then, and it probably

is again right now.”

“We met in a dream and I can’t remember it. Damn!” He took a deep breath to calm

himself down. He’d find out what had happened. Dream encounters weren’t something he

was familiar with—it had never even occurred to him to try that mode of communication.

But now that he knew it was one way of making contact, he’d learn everything he could.

“You’re not laughing at me for saying we met in a dream?” The stranger tilted his head

then grinned. “Actually, why would you, if this is just another dream?”

“Dreams are perfectly acceptable meeting places, even if it may sound a little weird if

you’re not used to it.” Which seemed to be the case for this man. Damn, he needed a name.

He couldn’t keep calling his future psychic partner ‘the stranger’ in his head. “So, will you

tell me your name as well?”

“Not used to it? Now that it’s happened again and we seem to be having a real

conversation, try ‘not freaked out by it’.” The man shook his head.

“I’m not going to harm you, if that’s what you mean. I probably couldn’t, even if I

tried.” And not because this was a dream, but because they were destined to link.

“Huh.” The man blinked.

“Your name?” Gods, he was adorable when he looked confused.

“Noah. My name is Noah.” Noah smiled.

“That’s a nice name.” It had a warm sound to it.

“So, in the last dream you said to come find you by following my heart. I must admit

that wasn’t the only thing I followed. Aunt Miryam said they found me near Fox Lake so

that’s where I decided to go so I could maybe find out a little more about my origins. Instead,

I meet you here again.” Noah scratched his head. “I wonder whether the two are connected

somehow?”

“You know Fox Lake? That’s where I’m stationed!” Normally, a conundrum like this

would have made his headache flare up. This time, it made him notice there was no

headache left. It had vanished the minute he’d laid eyes on Noah, to be exact.

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“It is?” Noah frowned. “There’s only nature around. It’s not a national park, but it

might as well be. There is absolutely nothing out here except lots of trees, massive amounts

of snow and some animals trying to either hibernate or make a meagre living on summer

leftovers.”

“Well, I’m not exactly sure where ‘here’ is. I believe I’m standing at Fox Lake, touching

the frozen waterfall and having the strangest dream conversation of my life. My cabin, or

rather the military’s outpost, is a few hundred metres from here.” Not that he wanted to

return any time soon. Noah was an intriguing, not to mention extremely handsome, guy.

“But that’s where I’m standing as well. Lake Fox, that is. But there certainly aren’t any

cabins around here, military or otherwise.” Noah shook his head. “This is very strange.”

Now he got it. Noah had just confirmed that he was in a parallel dimension, which

might look slightly different from Ataro’s reality. The biggest question for Ataro was how to

get him the hell over into his dimension so they could link. If Noah even wanted that. The

guy seemed to be unaware of the existence of parallel dimensions, so maybe he didn’t know

about linking, either…

“What are you thinking about?” Noah’s voice brought him back to reality.

“Well, actually, I’d like to show you my reality, if you’re willing to try crossing over.”

Not that he was sure how they’d accomplish that.

“Your reality? Crossing over?” Noah laughed. “This sounds like some sort of sci-fi or

fantasy book.”

“I assure you, it isn’t. I don’t even know if it will work, but I think it’s worth at least a

try.” He’d deal with the consequences later.

“Oh, all right. This is only a dream anyway, so what can go wrong?” Noah stepped

closer again. “What do you want me to do?”

“Let’s see if we can touch. Maybe if we do, and I open my eyes again, we’ll be back in

my dimension. Hopefully, you’ll still be with me.”

“Which I wouldn’t be if this was a dream. Got it.” Noah held out his hand. “I’m ready.

Even if we don’t magically end up somewhere else, I like touching you.”

“You’ve touched me before?” And that evoked all kinds of naughty thoughts. Noah just

raised his eyebrows. “Ah, right…the dream where you met me, but I cannot remember.”

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“Yep, that was the one.” Noah’s eyes twinkled as he walked right into Ataro’s personal

space and looked up at him expectantly. “So, what do we do?”

Instead of an answer, Ataro finally gave in to his needs and embraced Noah. Even

through the thick layers of clothing, Noah felt wonderful in his arms. Real. Ataro bent his

head and kissed Noah lightly.

“More,” Noah teased.

Ataro complied and opened his mouth for the next kiss, exploring with his tongue as

soon as Noah’s open lips came close to his. Their tongues touched and for a long time Ataro

was totally absorbed in feeling and tasting Noah for the first time. Heat and a slightly bitter

flavour caressed his senses. Noah was just as curious, and they stroked each other’s tongues

and the inside of their mouths until he had to come up for breath.

When he did, and opened his eyes, he no longer stood in the forest clearing. He was

back at his waterfall, the cabin visible from the corner of his eye. Yes! It worked!

“Holy shit.” Noah’s eyes were wide and the man looked around as if he’d never been

here before.

“Welcome to my Fox Lake.” Ataro felt happier than he ever had before. His headache

was still gone, he had his psychic partner with him, and they had the next four weeks alone

until a new guard would arrive to relieve him of his duty. That was more than enough time

to get to know each other and, hopefully, to make the bond permanent.

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Chapter Three

Noah was still in a kind of daze as he followed Ataro into the wooden cabin at the edge

of the forest. It looked simple enough when they approached it, but the inside was a lot

warmer than he had anticipated. These people apparently knew a thing or two about

insulation, because they entered through a small hallway that felt more like an air lock than

an entrance to a rustic cabin. As soon as Ataro closed the outer door, there wasn’t a draught

to be felt.

Some sort of light came on automatically, and when he looked up, the entire ceiling was

white. The soft rays illuminated the small room as they took off their outer garments. Ataro’s

looked a lot more comfortable than his, but were no less warm, he would bet. It was all soft

wool and even the clothes Ataro wore underneath looked to be made from very soft, skin-

friendly materials.

Ataro’s body was even more magnificent close-up than it had been in his first dream,

and he had to remind himself repeatedly not to touch. Despite the kiss, which had happened

in the heat of the moment, he had no idea what people’s ideas about men touching other men

were here, so—to be safe—he was better off holding back for now.

“Let’s go inside. I’ll show you around and maybe we can share a meal while finding out

more about each other’s worlds?” Ataro waited for Noah to nod before he smiled and

opened the door to the inner part of the cabin. “Welcome to my temporary home.”

If this really was another dimension, it sure didn’t feel or look like it so far. Granted,

snow-covered trees and hills might look pretty much the same in any dimension. What the

hell did he know? But the inside of the cabin, other than the unusual lighting that came from

the entire ceiling, wasn’t very different from what you might have found in a similar place

back home.

A large main room with a huge fireplace took up most of the ground floor. A spiral

staircase in one back corner led upstairs, a half-open door to his left seemed to lead into a

kitchen-like place and a door to his right led to another room. The main space was

dominated by a large sofa and an easy chair in front of the stone fireplace and had cosy-

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looking rugs spread out to cover most of the hardwood floor. Bookshelves lined the walls,

and there were two small windows in the wall opposite.

“Come on, food’s through there.” Ataro pointed to their left and Noah followed him

into a small but well-equipped kitchen.

Another fireplace and no evidence of electricity convinced him that this was either an

extremely remote location or there were some fundamental differences between their

dimensions after all. Maybe both. They sat down at a rough-hewn table to have some sort of

stew and bread, followed by apples and hot tea. The contrast between things that were the

same and the subtle differences was beginning to make him dizzy.

“So, tell me more about these different dimensions and why we were able to

communicate, not to mention how the hell you managed to get me over here?” Noah leant

back in his chair, settling in for the duration.

“Well, I don’t know about the theory of different dimensions. You’d need to talk to a

physicist about that.” Ataro smiled. “But our psychics discovered a long time ago that

dreams link these dimensions together, and people with special abilities are able to connect.”

“And that includes transportation across the boundaries?” That was just too weird.

“Apparently.” Ataro shrugged. “I haven’t heard about a confirmed case in a long time,

but that is to be expected. Not all dimensions are safe for us, not all of them have psychics

whom we can communicate with. And not all of them we can cross into.”

“But it has been done before?” It made him wonder about some of the so-called

unexplained cases of UFO sightings back on ‘his’ Earth.

“Yes.” Ataro nodded. “I never knew I was one of the people who can do it. I wasn’t

even sure I was a psychic, but the fact that I managed to pull you over here tells me I must

be. Makes me wonder what would have happened if the link between us hadn’t been broken

twenty-seven years ago.”

“What?” Noah suddenly felt almost nauseous. “We had a link? How’s that even

possible?”

“Yeah, we did. I remember losing it when I was about five years old. I’ve been fighting

headaches ever since, except they stopped when you crossed over here.” Ataro tilted his

head. “You must have been too young to remember.”

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“Well, I would have been just about a year old at the time. So, no, I don’t remember it.

And we don’t really have psychics in our dimension, at least none that are officially

recognised or even taken seriously by most people.” Noah leant forwards. “Are you trying to

tell me I might be one of them? A psychic?”

“I think that is the only explanation for the link I felt breaking. I can’t see how there

could be a birthlink between people born in different dimensions. Even such a link between

two people born in the same dimension is practically unheard of.” Ataro looked thoughtful.

“If there are no psychics in your dimension who would have been able to tell you what was

going on as you grew up, we’ll need to approach this a little differently. Have you ever felt

like there was something missing in your life?”

“All the time. And I have these weird headaches as well.” Noah sat up straight as it hit

him. “You know what? I just recently found out that I’m not who I thought I was. It all

makes sense now.”

“Huh?” Ataro’s eyebrows went up. “You lost me.”

“I always felt slightly out of sync with the people who raised me, most notably my

stupid elder brother. When my father died a few weeks ago, the idiot finally told me I was

adopted. What he wouldn’t tell me was where I’m from. My aunt pointed me in the direction

of Fox Lake, where I was apparently ‘found’ by her and my mother twenty-seven years ago.

What she couldn’t tell me was where I’d come from or how I’d survived in the freezing

cold.”

“What about that ring you’re wearing?” Ataro’s gaze went to his left hand.

“My aunt just gave that to me a few hours ago. Said they’d found it on a gold chain

around my neck.”

“Oh shit!” Ataro paled and looked up, his eyes big with surprise. “We all get a ring like

that at birth, so you must be one of us.”

“I am?” Noah didn’t know whether to be relieved or scared. He was an alien? Well, not

an alien. What did you call someone from a parallel dimension? Ataro, at least, looked

human enough, and Noah had got away with being ‘human’ for years. So where were the

differences? Were there any? God, he was rambling in his own head.

“Noah!” Ataro had got up and was shaking him. “Are you still with me?”

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“Yeah.” God, Ataro’s hand on his shoulder felt hot and made him shiver. And that was

through layers of fabric. “Yeah, I’m just a bit confused right now.”

“I can see why.” Ataro squeezed his shoulder then withdrew his hand. Noah swayed in

his direction as if his body wasn’t ready to let the contact with Ataro end. “And I’m sorry to

say I can’t tell you who you are either, but it looks to me as if someone put you into the other

dimension on purpose. You couldn’t have gotten lost by accident, not at that young an age.

We need to find out why they wanted to get rid of you, because it can’t be good. They

committed a serious crime and need to be punished. We need to reunite you with your real

family, if they’re still alive. I know where we can go once we’re back in Boreas.”

“Boreas?” His head spun from all the details. Ataro was clearly good at planning and

developing a strategy, so he’d rely on that ability. He was too upset and confused to be of

any help right now.

“Yes, the city north of here. It’s the capital of Khinan.” Ataro sat back down, but kept a

wary eye on Noah. It made him feel safe, to be guarded like that.

“There’s a city north of here? On Earth, this is already the edge of beyond, never mind

farther north. And what is Khinan?” Noah rubbed his temples. He did not want one of his

horrible headaches right now.

“Boreas is the capital city of Khinan, our name for this planet. Most of our world is

covered in ice and snow, since we’re going through an ice age at the moment. We have

learned to adapt.” Ataro pointed at the walls and the roof. “This may look like wood, but it’s

actually pretty advanced technology, including solar panels on the roof. They feed the ceiling

lights and anything else that may require electricity.”

“Wow.” He needed a nap. Suddenly it was all too much.

* * * *

Noah opened his eyes. It was semi-dark and he was lying down. Straight ahead was the

huge fireplace he remembered seeing in the cabin’s main room, so he must be on the sofa.

Strong arms surrounded him, a well-muscled body was at his back keeping him warm and a

delicious woodsy scent enveloped him. Ataro! A soft blanket covered them both. He sighed

deeply. He felt safe and just where he needed to be for the first time ever.

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If Ataro was right, that was because they were meant to be together. No. He frowned.

Ataro had said they had a link. Why did he think that meant more?

“It can mean more if we’re both open to it.” Ataro’s voice was rough with sleep.

“Shit! You just read my thoughts.” How the fuck?

“Not really, but I had a vague sense of what was going on in your head. Being close will

do that between some linked psychics, but it’s very rare.” Ataro sighed. “Some linked pairs

develop special abilities once they have cemented the link.”

“But we haven’t, have we?” Noah turned around so he could look at Ataro.

“No, not as far as I know. But I must admit that I don’t know much about pairings that

exist from birth. They must be extremely rare, and I’ve certainly never heard about one.”

Ataro lifted his hand and cupped Noah’s cheek. “I have missed you all my life, though, and

would love to link with you. At the very least so we can work together, but I want it to be

more as well.”

“I would like that.” God, had he lost his mind? He didn’t even know this man. And

yet…the last few hours in his company had been almost magical. He felt safe, like he

belonged and was actually wanted. “I don’t know what this work will entail, but I’m willing

to give it a go. I am—was—a children’s doctor on Earth, so I hope you can use something like

that here.”

“Are you kidding? If my suspicions are right, and we do turn out to be telepathic

together, we might be able to not just read each other’s thoughts, but strangers’ as well.”

Ataro beamed at him, more than excited judging by the sudden colour in his cheeks.

“That would be brilliant when treating kids!” God, how perfect. “So, what do we do?”

“Well, you need to understand this is permanent. If we decide to link, we will be

partners as long as we live.” Ataro looked carefully guarded.

“Just work partners?” Noah desperately wanted more, but if Ataro wasn’t interested

yet, maybe he could at least convince him otherwise over time. “This may be reckless, but

I’ve never felt so connected and attracted to any man. And I must admit I want more.”

“Thank the gods.” Ataro grinned. “I feel the same way, and I know that this is a true

link if you feel it as well. There is no reason for us to wait.”

“Is there a ceremony?” Noah scooted closer. All he really wanted was to make out and

see where that led. Hopefully to a whole lot more.

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“In a way.” Ataro’s grin turned roguish. “But it’s just between the two of us. We link

physically first then the mental link follows.”

“Show me.” Noah melted into Ataro’s arms as soon as they opened.

Their tongues tangled in the increasingly familiar dance with a rhythm that was all

their own. The heat between them increased so quickly that Noah had to pull back for air

much sooner than he wanted to.

“Bed?” Ataro pointed to the spiral staircase. “If we don’t go now, I don’t think we’ll

make it. And I don’t want our first time to be on the sofa.”

“Whatever you want.” He was about to lose his ability to think, so whatever they did

would have to happen fast.

Ataro grinned as if he’d heard the thought and got up, pulling Noah with him. A quick

climb later, Noah entered the bedroom to the left. The bed was as rough-hewn as the kitchen

table, very close to the floor, but the blankets and pillows were piled high and as soft looking

as Ataro’s clothing. The door closed with a soft click, probably for better heat preservation,

and Ataro turned his attention back to Noah.

Just having this man looking at him made Noah want to do all kinds of interesting

things he’d never felt the urge to do with anyone else before.

“Come here.” Ataro stepped over to the bed, pulling the covers back and opened his

arms again.

Noah didn’t hesitate—he stepped into his lover’s embrace and the world around him

ceased to matter. Ataro was all he cared about and the soft kisses were only the beginning.

Within minutes Ataro had them both undressed and on the bed side by side as they explored

each other’s bodies with hands, lips and tongues. Noah loved the feeling of Ataro’s soft skin

under his fingertips, the slightly salty taste of his skin, and when Ataro touched his cock for

the first time, he almost came.

“Fuck!” He writhed on the bed as Ataro kept teasing him with long, slow licks from

base to tip.

When Ataro’s hot lips enclosed his cockhead Noah arched his back and came. Waves of

pleasure raced through his body as he spurted everything he had into Ataro’s willing mouth.

Ataro kept licking him until he was clean, then slid up his body to give him a slow, lingering

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kiss as he rubbed his hard cock against Noah’s thigh. The thought of what might be next

made Noah’s head spin and brought his cock back to life.

Ataro grinned and reached over to the side of the bed. He dug into a basket that sat on

the floor next to it and came back with a small flask of what looked like oil.

“No condoms?” Noah plumped up a pillow to support himself as he watched Ataro

kneel between his legs, lifting his thighs over his then pushing another pillow under Noah’s

ass. God, he looked wanton spread out like that. The heat in Ataro’s eyes confirmed that he

was exactly where his lover wanted him.

“Condoms?” Ataro tilted his head, looking puzzled. “All we need is some oil, right?”

“Uhm, well, I don’t know.” Shit, don’t they have protection in this dimension? Maybe they

don’t need it. Do I trust Ataro enough to go bareback? “Don’t you have sexually transmitted

diseases in this place?”

“Oh, that’s what you mean.” Ataro smiled and put one warm hand on Noah’s thigh,

slowly caressing the soft skin there. “We used to have them, but our psychic healers found

ways to cure them a long time ago. They’re pretty much extinct now.”

“Okay. Just so you know, I’m clean.” Noah blushed. He’d never done anything to put

him in real danger anyway, and he was regularly tested for all kinds of stuff in the hospital.

Or he had been. Was he really going to leave all that behind? Shit, yes, in a heartbeat!

“I trust you.” Ataro looked straight at him.

The effect those three simple words had on Noah was unexpected. Nobody, other than

his patients and a few of his teachers, had ever told him that. He was exhilarated and smiled

as he pulled Ataro down for a kiss.

Minutes later they were both gasping for breath and he was more than ready to come

again. Before he could say anything, he felt Ataro’s hand slide between them, then a warm,

slick finger slipped behind his balls and back towards his hole. God, that felt good. He

looked at Ataro and nodded. “Good.”

Ataro grinned and proceeded to drive him crazy. Circling, pushing in a little bit then

retreating, Ataro slowly worked in one, then two and finally three fingers. Noah was going

crazy just watching Ataro. It seemed as if his lust became Noah’s—as if he could feel being

penetrated as well as doing the penetrating. When Ataro touched Noah’s prostate and he

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saw Ataro jolt with pleasure at the same moment as he felt the electricity-like pleasure swirl

through his own body, his eyes widened.

“You can feel it too, can’t you?” His cock hardened further and started dripping pre-

cum. God, he was turned on.

Ataro nodded.

“Oh my God, is this what it’ll feel like to be linked?” It was a little confusing, but he

was pretty sure he could get used to it, with lots of training, of course. And who was he to

turn down double pleasure?

“It’ll be more intense, you will see.” Ataro withdrew his fingers and cleaned them on a

cloth he pulled from the basket. “And we will learn to control it as we grow in our abilities,

but this first time it might be quite overwhelming.”

“Okay.” No reason to stop then.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Ataro moved into position, guiding his hard cock

to touch Noah’s asshole.

“It’ll be forever?” Noah couldn’t wait to have someone to call his own without fear of

him changing his mind and walking way.

“Yes.” Ataro bent down so they could kiss.

“Please?” He hated his pleading tone, but he wanted it so much.

“I want it too.” Ataro smiled, took him into his arms and started pushing inside.

The pressure was amazing, but the stretch soon became a bit too much and he took a

hissing breath to try to cope with it. Ataro stopped immediately, grabbed Noah’s cock and

started stroking. It felt so good that he forgot everything else and was totally surprised when

Ataro bottomed out.

“Full.” Noah breathed heavily, needing more.

Ataro slid one hand behind Noah’s head to hold him still for more deep kisses as he

started thrusting. Slow, shallow movements at first, then he gradually went deeper. He

matched the movements of his tongue in rhythm and depth and it drove Noah higher so

quickly that he became dizzy.

“Open up to me.” Ataro had pulled back. His eyes were burning into Noah, as if he

looked straight into his head. “Just relax and open all of yourself to me.”

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He focused on that as Ataro pushed inside him, hard, and suddenly he could feel

Ataro’s thoughts. His eyes widened as he let him in, exchanging feelings and memories,

becoming one with Ataro in a way he’d never thought possible. His orgasm surprised him,

but it was deeper and more powerful than any he’d ever had before.

Noah screamed his joy, and Ataro’s voice joined him as they shuddered through their

releases, breathing hard as they kept coming. Finally, exhausted and unable to take any more

pleasure, they collapsed into each other’s arms. Minutes passed while they tried to find the

way back to themselves. Even when Noah knew he was mostly alone in his head again, there

was a faint link to Ataro. It was like a low humming at the back of his brain and when he

briefly closed his eyes, he could see a soft shimmering at the edge of his vision.

“Can you hear me?” Ataro hadn’t moved his lips.

“Shit! It works.” Noah’s jaw dropped. “Are we going to read each other’s thoughts the whole

time now?”

“No, just the ones we think at each other.” Thank God Ataro had changed back to voice

communication.

“How the hell do I think at you? Or how do I avoid thinking at you?” Noah didn’t mind

Ataro reading his thoughts on occasion, but the whole time? That would be uncomfortable.

“Right now the link is very new and all kinds of stuff can leak through. It’ll get better

once we’ve slept it off, so the link can ‘settle’, and then we can start training.” Ataro moved

closer. “Don’t worry, I’ll show you what to do.”

That was all it took. Noah already trusted Ataro instinctively. He closed his eyes and

made sure he lay firmly in his lover’s arms. This alone was worth it!

* * * *

The next morning came much too quickly. Noah knew that Ataro wasn’t in the bed

with him before he even opened his eyes. But he could still feel him and he tentatively

reached out.

“Ataro?”

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“Good morning.” Ataro’s telepathic chuckle was almost nicer than listening to a real one.

It included a belly rippling effect—as if Noah was laughing himself, but without putting any

of the effort into it. “I’m making you breakfast in bed.”

“Thank you.” Noah smiled. Some ideas, like spoiling your partner, were rightfully multi-

dimensional.

“You’re right, they are.” Ataro grinned in his head, somehow, and Noah decided he had

to find out how to do that.

The door opened, and Noah’s sexy lover stood there in nothing but a towel, holding a

huge tray with plates, a small basket with bread and two steaming mugs.

“You can pull the good stuff from my mind anytime.” Noah grinned as he sat up,

fluffing some pillows for both of them to lean against.

“Somehow I was hoping you’d forgive me.” Ataro put the tray onto the foot of the bed

and crawled up to Noah, kissing him as if he hadn’t seen him in days.

“Breakfast in bed and kisses like that?” Shit, this was no way to make his morning

wood go away. “I’ll forgive you a little telepathy, no problem. And anyway, we’re linked

now, so we need to trust each other, right?”

“It’s better than that.” Ataro settled in next to him and pulled the tray closer. “We

already trusted each other or the link would have never snapped into place as quickly and

deeply as it has.”

“It has? How do you know?” Noah took the mug Ataro held out for him and sniffed.

Hot chocolate! Score!

“The fact that I knew when you woke up and that you were able to communicate with

me all the way from the kitchen.” Ataro sipped his own drink and closed his eyes. He was

clearly a fellow chocolate aficionado. “That is only possible between very strong psychics or

after years of practice.”

“Wow. Lucky us.” Noah took a sip of his drink and moaned. It was some of the best hot

chocolate he’d ever had.

“It means we’ll have to work harder to learn to control it, I suspect. I know the theory,

but the practice might be different.” Ataro smiled. “Not that it matters—I’ll probably like

working with you. But we’ll have to get it under control before we can go back to the city.

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With that many people around, psychics with telepathic abilities have to be extra careful, or

we drown in other people’s emotions and thoughts.”

“Shit, I hadn’t even thought of that.” Noah put down his drink, suddenly nervous.

“Will we ever be able to go there? I mean, I know nothing about this stuff, I might not be any

good at it. What if I can’t deal with it or can’t learn to control it?” Would Ataro send him

away, back to his dimension again?

“Never!” Ataro put down his mug, scooted closer and took Noah into his arms,

squeezing tightly. “I would never send you anywhere. Our destinies are linked now, and I

wouldn’t be able to harm you. It would be like hurting myself. And we can’t be split up for

longer than a few hours, it would make us both ill very quickly. You’re truly stuck with me.”

“Not a problem.” He’d just have to do his best not to disappoint Ataro.

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Chapter Four

The strange presence that had bothered Ataro in his dreams off and on over the years

was back with a vengeance. It had never been this frequent before but came almost every

night now, and it was darker and more threatening than ever. Not a real person—at least not

in appearance—it nevertheless had a familiarity that made Ataro itch with the need to find

out who it was and to figure out a way to fight back.

He knew he was dreaming because the connection to Noah was completely gone, and

that hadn’t happened since they’d activated the link about two weeks ago. That complete a

separation wasn’t supposed to be possible unless one of them died, and the loss would mean

crippling pain to the point where the surviving partner would go crazy or die within a few

days. Ataro had seen it happen. Luckily, he wasn’t experiencing any of those symptoms right

now, so it must be something else. But what?

The feeling of the missing connection was extremely disquieting and he definitely

hadn’t expected it so late in their cooperation. They’d spent a lot of time doing exercises to

strengthen their link and to train their telepathic abilities, using their rings as focal points for

their psychic energy. Checking what other psychic talents they might have had, had quickly

gone on the back burner because…really, telepathy wasn’t all that common to start with.

There would be more than enough demand for a linked pair of telepaths and they’d be able

to find employment in no time. Why be greedy and wish for more?

The presence wasn’t even doing anything overtly aggressive. It hovered in the

background. Watching. Waiting. Ataro tossed and turned but wasn’t able to withdraw from

his nightmare. It was highly unusual, since he’d been trained in lucid dreaming from his very

first day in school. Something was clearly not right and when he felt as if he was suffocating,

he knew something was completely wrong.

“Ataro?” Noah’s mental voice sounded muffled and came through despite the apparent

lack of a link.

What the hell? That wasn’t even supposed to be possible. Wasn’t the link the conduit of

their psychic abilities?

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“Ataro? Talk to me. I can’t feel you but I know you’re in trouble somehow.” Noah sounded

frightened.

“Noah?”

Nothing.

“Noah, can you hear me?” This was beyond strange.

“Okay, I don’t care what you told me about dream states—I’m coming in to get you.” Noah

sounded as stubborn as when he didn’t want to do a particular exercise because it was

‘boring’ or otherwise unacceptable to him.

“No! Too dangerous.” He didn’t know what was going on, and he didn’t want Noah to be

pulled into this darkness with him. Not that his lover would listen to him. When Noah

decided he was going after something, there was no stopping him. They’d only known each

other for two weeks, but he’d figured that out right away. Linked couples saved themselves

years of getting to know each other, but the sudden confrontation with a lot of details about

another human being could be quite draining.

Next thing he knew, Noah stood across from him in the dark alley he’d been stuck in

for most of the dream. He had no idea how he’d ended up here, and it wasn’t a place he was

familiar with from his waking state. The dark presence recoiled, probably as shocked as

Ataro that Noah had succeeded to find him and successfully transferred in. And why did

Ataro make the shadow into a person? There was nothing human about it, and yet…

“This isn’t possible.” Ataro stared at Noah. Gods, he was glad his lover was here. The

presence suddenly seemed far less dangerous than before.

“Um, I beg to disagree. We may not have practiced this, but all I did was follow our link

towards you, like you taught me.” Noah blinked.

“What link?” It was gone, wasn’t it? He still couldn’t feel it despite Noah standing right

next to him.

“Our link.” Noah stepped closer. “Can’t you feel it?”

Ataro shook his head.

“It’s less clear to me now than it was when I first arrived here, but it’s still there.” Noah

turned his head to look at the black shadow to their right and narrowed his eyes. “I think our

friend over there may have something to do with the deterioration. What does he want

anyway? Has he told you? He looks an awful lot like you, did you notice?”

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“Hey, slow down.” Gods, once Noah started asking questions, he didn’t seem to stop.

“If you were still able to feel the link, then at least it isn’t broken. That was just too horrible to

contemplate. If I understood you correctly, you think the shadow here may be the culprit?”

Noah nodded, not taking his eyes off the now approaching ‘thing’.

“Makes sense, especially since the connection is now deteriorating. Shit, he must be a

blocker. Makes me wonder if that dream you mentioned, the one where we first met, was

blocked or somehow masked by someone like him?” Ataro did not want the thing to come

even closer, so he stepped up to Noah and took his hand. Maybe they could defeat the thing

together. “And why do you say it looks like me? It’s just a shadow.”

“It definitely looks like a man to me, someone a lot like you. Black hair, dark eyes, same

sort of facial structure. Only older.” Noah twined their fingers and squeezed.

“Fuck, that sounds like my elder brother, Chimo. What the hell would he be doing in

my dreams? And he’s been there for years. I just didn’t know who he was until now,” Ataro

squinted at the black outline, trying to force his eyes to give him the information he wanted.

“Your brother?” Noah glanced at him for a moment before looking back at the shadow.

“Sounds like we have something in common. I have an asshole elder brother as well. Luckily

he turned out not to be my biological sibling, but still…I know the feeling.”

“If Chimo is blocking my psychic abilities, and possibly trying to do the same with

yours, we need to get out of here as quickly as we can.” And then they’d need to get back to

Boreas ahead of schedule to figure out what was going on.

“No problem. I left a trail of psychic breadcrumbs, so to speak, so I could find my way

back.” Noah grinned and pulled Ataro closer.

“Psychic breadcrumbs?” Gods, this man came up with the weirdest ideas. Not having a

better idea, or any idea at all, really, Ataro was going to go with it.

“Yeah, you know? Little pieces of energy that can show me where to go. Close your

eyes and focus, and I’ll show you what I mean.” Noah winked at him, pulled him into his

arms and for a moment everything was okay.

“Just look behind you.” Noah turned his head.

Ataro looked in the same direction and, fuck, if there weren’t little floating lights that

stretched into the distance, forming a clear path away from here. “Wow!”

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Noah grinned and started pulling him in that direction. The shadow started moving,

but Noah pulled Ataro along so quickly that they soon lost all traces of him.

“Wake up. Now!” Noah faded.

Ataro didn’t hesitate to pull himself out of the dream seconds later. They landed at

home, in their bed, just as the first rays of the sun peeked into the bedroom.

“So, I guess we’re going to go back to Boreas a little early?” Noah grinned as he pulled

the covers over them, preserving warmth.

“I was thinking that. If that was my brother, we have to find out what he is up to and

why he’s been trying to block me.” Ataro took a deep breath. “Before we go, though, there’s

something I need to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” Noah turned his head and gave him his full attention.

“Well, the reason that I’m so worried about what my brother might be up to is that he

could do a whole lot of damage, being in his position.” Ataro swallowed.

“What does he do?” Noah took Ataro’s free hand and pulled it to his chest.

“It’s not as much what he does, but our father’s position means my brother, Chimo, as

the eldest son has quite a lot of political responsibility.” Ataro had never wanted anything to

do with any of it, not even what he should have been doing all along as the younger son.

“Huh?” Noah stared at him. “Your father is some politician?”

“Yes. Actually…he’s the president.” He stiffened.

“Oh my God.” Noah closed his eyes.

“Yeah.” Ataro felt every bit of Noah’s shock through their link. If he wasn’t careful he

was going to create psychic feedback and would give them both a major headache.

“Does that mean you have the press hounding you? Do you even have a personal life?

Will they accept me?” Noah opened his eyes again, but he trembled.

“There will probably be some scrutiny, yes. You might have to do a few interviews. But

it’s not like they have a say about who I’m with, and the link is more important than

anything else.” Ataro didn’t dare move. “Noah?”

Noah swallowed.

“Are you okay?”

Noah shook his head.

“Can you live with this?”

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“It’ll take some getting used to, and I’d like to understand better what it all means. But I

don’t think I have a choice, right?” Noah buried his head against Ataro’s chest. “Just give me

some time.”

“I’ll do my best. But a lot will depend on what we find when we return. I just hope

there’ll be some rational explanation for what we think we’ve seen. One that doesn’t

implicate Chimo in criminal activity.” Ataro slid his hand up Noah’s back to hold his lover

more tightly against him. Quiet moments like this might soon be a thing of the past, so he

needed to make the most of this one.

“Quiet isn’t what I want, though.” Noah looked up, an impish grin on his face.

“No?” Ataro tried to keep a straight face, but his lips wouldn’t cooperate and twitched.

“You’re getting better at shielding your thoughts, darling. I had no idea.”

“Darling? I like it.” Noah’s grin wiped away the worry lines. Better! Noah lifted his

hand and caressed Ataro’s face. “Yeah, I think you also look better when you’re smiling,

honey.”

“Honey?” Ataro loved the sound of that. It made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. So

he bent his head and kissed Noah. Slow tender kisses across his forehead, down his nose,

barely touching his lips before moving along his jaw line and to that special spot behind his

ear that drove his lover crazy.

“Gahhh!” Noah tilted his head back and closed his eyes, giving himself over.

The absolute trust was inspiring and such a turn on that Ataro bit his lip to stop himself

from humping Noah’s leg. He focused on licking and kissing Noah just right. Noah was

moaning in no time, bucking his hips in a desperate attempt to get more friction. Not one to

deny his lover—or himself, for that matter—Ataro moved between his thighs and brought

their cocks into alignment. They were both too close to draw this out right now. Maybe the

second round would be slower.

Ataro ground his hips into Noah’s, and they set up a rhythm of pushing and circling

that made their cocks rub each other just right. It aroused him even more, and he crushed

Noah’s lips in a bruising kiss. Noah opened up for him immediately, and he dived inside as

if his life depended on it.

Noah gripped his ass cheeks and started kneading, making Ataro groan. He pushed up

into Noah’s hands, wishing for more. He wasn’t going to make it this time and, judging by

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Noah’s moans, neither was his lover. But the one finger that slid between his ass cheeks and

started playing with his hole, just teasing it, did up the ante considerably.

Pushing back and trying to get Noah’s finger to penetrate him became almost as urgent

as pushing forwards to give his aching cock the pressure he needed. His movements became

erratic—and Noah stopped everything.

“Damn!” God, he needed to come.

“I’ve got you, honey.” Noah slid his open hand across Ataro’s ass to calm him. “Won’t

leave you hanging.”

How was it that he was the one on top but Noah was running the show? Not that he

minded in the least, but it was an interesting experience.

“Oh, yeah?” Noah mentally chuckled. “I love that I got you to the point where your thoughts

are leaking. Serves you right for driving me crazy with all that licking and kissing earlier.”

“Gods, Noah. Please… Please just let me come.” At least he hadn’t begged out loud.

“Not yet.” Noah’s grin was positively evil as he started slowly stroking Ataro’s asshole

again.

Ataro gave up thinking and just went with his feelings. He trusted this man with his life

now that they were linked, surely he could trust him to give him the orgasm he so

desperately wanted? As soon as he relaxed into Noah’s arms, his lover pushed the teasing

finger inside him, just to the first knuckle. Gods, that burn felt good. Ataro forgot his new

resolution and started fucking himself on that one finger, rotating his hips for all he was

worth to give Noah what he needed as well.

“Almost…there.” He gritted his teeth and held on, wanting Noah with him. His lover

was so close, he could feel him trembling underneath him and his mind was a blaze of

colour, not many thoughts left…much like his own.

“Fuck!” Noah was the one to lose the rhythm this time as he started spurting heat

between their sweaty bodies.

“Ungh.” Ataro pushed down one last time, felt Noah’s finger wriggle just that extra

little bit deeper and came all over both of them.

They shook with the pleasure, breathing heavily for quite a while as they came down

from an amazingly satisfying high, considering they’d only rubbed off on each other. He was

revising his opinion of frottage by the minute.

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Ataro stroked Noah’s flanks as Noah made small circles on Ataro’s ass cheeks. The

physical connection was great, but their link provided an extra level of intimacy that made

the experience more emotional. It amplified their feelings while they made love and

supported the aftershocks as they came down. And it got better every time they did this. He

might just die from the intensity one of these days.

“I just want to stay here.” Noah sighed and pushed him off his quickly cooling body.

“I know.” Ataro moved to his side, pulling Noah close before reaching for the small

towel they had learned to keep close. He replaced the covers when he was done with the

minimal clean-up that was all he seemed capable off. “I don’t want to go back either. But I

don’t think we have a choice.”

“We always have choices.” Noah threw him an almost stern glance. “Just in this case,

going back is the only honourable one.”

“Sexy and smart.” Ataro kissed Noah on his forehead and relaxed back for a short nap.

Surely there was no harm in that? “Can’t beat that combination.”

They’d leave later today or maybe even tomorrow. With as little daylight as there was

two days after the winter solstice, they’d be better off leaving right after sunup to make the

trip as easy as possible. And Noah should see something of his new home once they arrived.

It was way too late today to make that possible.

The trip shouldn’t take more than a few hours, so, with any luck, they’d arrive with

daylight to spare and could settle in, inform his father of what was going on and hopefully

confront Chimo the next morning with the president’s support.

* * * *

Ataro took in his home as they approached the city gates. Boreas lay in a huge river

delta, surrounded by forested hills. Coming down the main road from the southern

mountains was the best part about coming home after one of his trips. He didn’t really miss

most of the people or his ‘duties’, but the city was beautiful and he did miss its hustle and

bustle when he was gone.

Usually he didn’t make it back here until after the new year had started, but the

difference, now that he looked at it, was minimal. He stopped the snowmobile a good

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distance from the southern city gate to give Noah a chance to have a look. They’d made good

time, so they had enough daylight to see by. Sunlight glinted off the massive dome that

covered the city—heated with the help of solar panels to avoid it getting covered with ice

and snow during the winter months.

Noah made appreciative sounds from his seat behind him.

“You like your new home?” Ataro turned around to watch his lover’s face. He could

have read his thoughts, of course, but he loved looking at his face. It was always animated

and the bright blue eyes, so rare on Khinan, held a special attraction.

“Yeah, it looks kind of cool.” Noah nodded as his wondering gaze took in the

combination of ancient city walls and the modern steelplast dome structure that seemed to

grow out of the old layers of stone.

“Good.” Ataro turned back around and drove the rest of the way towards the gate. The

buildings inside the dome seemed to wink in and out of existence, depending on the angle of

the sunlight. Large parts were green—parks and even small patches of forest were an

essential part of the city’s ecology.

They approached the gate and he slowed down the snowmobile so he could greet the

guards and go through the formality of identifying himself. He’d probably trained with these

men at some point, and most citizens knew him from watching him carry out his official

duties, but they were much more likely to remember him than the other way around.

He held up his papers. The guard frowned and stared at them for a minute. Then his

eyes glazed over and he put a hand on his sword. Guns weren’t allowed inside the city due

to the risk of shooting a hole in the dome. Nowadays environmental dangers were just as real

as enemy armies had been to cities in the old days. Damaging any part of their protective

system could put the entire city and the million or so people who lived in it at risk.

“You are under arrest.” The man looked straight ahead and determined enough for an

entire battalion. But he seemed strangely absent somehow.

“Excuse me?” Ataro stared right back, hoping this would turn out to be another

nightmare. And what was it with the lack of eye contact?

“You heard me.” The guard pulled out handcuffs that had seen better days. As

primitive as they looked, they were still damned effective. “I have orders to arrest you and

anyone in your company upon your return to the city.”

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“And the charges are…?” Maybe he could figure out who was behind this, though he

was pretty sure he already knew. Whoever had issued the orders couldn’t possibly be

serious, though. Something like this happening to the president’s son wouldn’t go unnoticed.

How did they think they would escape public scrutiny over false accusations? Unless they

were planning to kill Noah and him, ‘lose’ the evidence and pretend to be innocent. Shit, they

had to get out of this. Or rather, not even get into it in the first place!

“High treason.” The guard motioned for Ataro to hold out his hands while his soldier

partner did the same to Noah.

“What the fuck?” Noah looked outwardly calm but his thoughts were anything but.

“What’s going on?”

“I have no idea.” Ataro was relieved that Noah was using their ‘private channel’ for now.

You never knew what spoken words might be used against them. “I suspect my dear brother

may be behind this. We clearly threaten him for some reason, so he wants to get us out of the way.”

“What should we do?” Noah looked pale but wasn’t panicking.

“First, we need to keep quiet about our connection for now. I don’t know who is aware of it and

who isn’t, and I hope even those who know won’t realise the extent of all our abilities. The less they

find out now the better, it might give us an advantage later on.” Ataro was still staring at the

guard who hadn’t moved a muscle. “Now we find out what the hell is going on.”

“Sir?” The guard was fidgeting now.

Good! Let the man sweat a little. Noah mentally grinned, having caught everything. It

was amazing how they could transfer emotions like that as well as thoughts—and nobody

was the wiser.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Ataro gave the guard what he hoped was

a withering glance, but the man barely reacted. He might have to practice looking scary.

Noah snorted, but quickly brought himself under control again.

“I follow orders, sir. And these come from the Guard Captain himself. You and anyone

with you are to be arrested, kept overnight and brought in front of the judge tomorrow

morning.” The guard shrugged as he waved for Ataro’s hands again. “We can do this easy or

we can make it hard. Up to you.”

“What about a lawyer?” He wasn’t going to just lie down and take it. Once he was

imprisoned it would very difficult to escape. Better to avoid that in the first place.

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“My orders only said to deliver you to the Bhekizi prison and hand you over to the

Captain.” The guard pointed at a ground vehicle.

I don’t think so!

“Not good news, huh?” Noah threw an irritated glance at the second guard who was

trying to keep him from Ataro.

“No. That’s the place for the worst criminals.” This was so wrong. Where the hell was his

father? Had Chimo fed him some story that had made him believe Ataro was a traitor? What

could he possibly have used as evidence?

“Don’t tell me you have the death penalty here.” Noah looked almost green.

“Unfortunately, we do.” He’d always been against it, but he was one of the few.

“Great!” Noah slumped a little.

“We’re not going to go with them.” But unless he came up with a plan, and quickly, it

looked as if they were doomed. This was so not the way he had imagined bringing his link

partner and lover home!

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Chapter Five

How the hell were they going to fight them, though? Noah furrowed his brow in

thought. These two guards must be pretty low down in the hierarchy, but even so they

seemed strangely…mindless. Almost like robots that had been programmed for a certain

course. His eyes widened. Maybe that was it?

“What are you thinking?” Ataro glanced at him briefly then focused back on the guard

closest to him.

“I don’t know, but don’t these guys seem pretty one-dimensional to you? As if they can’t even

think for themselves?” Noah realised they’d have to be quick about whatever they did. These

men were not patient and they’d already stalled long enough.

“You’re right.” Ataro frowned. “I mean, as military men they’re used to following orders, but

you think it’s more than that, don’t you?”

”Yeah, I think they’ve been hypnotised.” Noah cringed when his guard stepped closer,

wielding the handcuffs like the threat to his freedom they were.

“A psychic ability that is so rare only rumours about it exist as far as I know.” Ataro looked

thoughtful. “So, if I get you right, we need to de-hypnotise them, right?”

“Can we do that?” He’d try anything but he didn’t even know where to start. “I thought

we were only telepaths, but even if we can do other stuff, we’ve never even practiced it.”

“We’ve got to try.” Ataro held out his hand. “It’ll be easier if we touch.”

Noah stepped closer. The guard lifted a hand to draw his sword. Desperate to try

anything, Noah started to think ‘wake up…forget what they told you’ at the man. He could hear

Ataro thinking the same and within seconds, the guard blinked and dropped the weapon

back into its sheath.

“Sir?” The second guard stepped closer but was too confused to act quickly.

As one, Ataro and Noah turned their attention to him, and within seconds he too was

free of whatever posthypnotic order he’d been given.

“What happened?” The first guard rubbed his temples. “What were we doing?”

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“I think someone has given you some very strange orders. Can you remember who it

was?” Ataro looked from one man to the other, waiting for them to remember the person

who’d told them what to do, just in case they didn’t speak up.

“It was the Captain. But he shouldn’t have done it. Why didn’t we notice that before?”

The second guard shook his head.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it. We’ll talk to him, since it clearly wasn’t your fault.”

Ataro smiled. “Thanks for your help.”

The picture in both men’s heads had been a guy in guard uniform, but there had been a

second man hidden in the shadows of his office. He looked an awful lot like the guy from

Ataro’s dream. Noah fisted his hands. He was ready to fight.

“Let’s go get him, I agree. My brother has a lot to answer for, from the looks of it.” Ataro

grinned and turned back to the guards. “Thanks for your help.”

The guards returned to their posts. Within moments Ataro had pressed a few buttons

that transformed the snowmobile into something that looked a lot like a motorbike. Noah

blinked in wonder at that little feat of technology. He’d bet that some of the car companies on

Earth would love to get their hands on this vehicle’s blueprints. Maybe he could start an

inter-dimensional import and export business? From what he knew there were certain

restrictions thought to exist around time travel and more primitive cultures, but the Khinans

seemed pretty close to Earth in many respects, so who knew?

“You are certainly creative, darling.” Ataro grinned as he got onto their ‘new’ vehicle and

scooted forward so Noah could take the second seat again. “But I have a feeling we’ll be way too

busy studying and practicing these new psychic powers we seem to be discovering all over the place.”

“Maybe so.” But he doubted it would keep them that busy all the time.

“You’ll see.” Ataro chuckled, gunned the engine and steered them through the narrow

street towards the centre.

“Where are we going?” Noah loved their mental communication. It wasn’t just good for

deceiving the guards or anyone else who might want to imprison them, but it made talking

while on the bike extremely easy.

“I want to see my father first. I think he’ll be interested in what’s been going on and hearing

about these new psychic abilities. Shit, we can’t have people with hypnotic abilities walking around

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and ‘telling’ others what to do.” Ataro took a left onto a large plaza and slowed down before

parking in front of a very official looking building.

“Yeah, but what if your brother is behind it and already got to him?” Noah got off the bike

and waited for Ataro to lock it.

“What do you mean—‘got to him’?” Ataro stopped in his tracks and turned around.

“I don’t know, I just have this feeling that there is more to your brother and his

activities than we thought.” How was he going to explain this? “The fact that he’s influenced

guards to try to get rid of us means that he’s worried about what we might do once we’re in

the city. Now that we’re linked, which he found out by invading your dreams, we clearly

have more abilities than he expected. He can’t possibly like that, since we’ll be able to

interfere with his plans.”

“You may have a point there. We’ll have to get him to admit all of that in front of my

father or some other reliable witness so he can be taken into custody.” Ataro nodded and

started walking towards the wide marble steps that led up to the main entrance of the

government building. “If your theory is correct, he might have been behind your abduction

as a child. All to avoid us ever linking and finding out it was him.”

“Exactly.” Noah concentrated on following Ataro into the building without bumping

into anyone. Droves of workers were leaving. Elegant suits were the majority fashion

statement and the scene didn’t look all that different from what might have happened on

Earth. The sun was setting, so it made sense for the workday to be over. He wasn’t sure

facing Ataro’s father, if he was still here, in a mostly empty building was such a good idea,

but what choice did they have?

The huge reception hall, well lit elevators and plush corridors on the top level all could

have been copied straight over from Earth. Noah took it all in as they made their way

uncontested to Ataro’s father’s office. The receptionist had recognised Ataro and sent them

straight up, but Noah would bet she’d alerted the president’s office.

“We’re probably walking into a trap.” Best to switch back to the mental communication.

Who knew who was watching them via the many security cameras? They probably taped

everything as well.

“Yeah, but at least we know it.” Ataro smiled at some of the increasingly official looking

types they encountered. He looked as if nothing was amiss. He was either a brilliant actor or

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his years of diplomatic training had paid off even better than he’d let on. “And remember, we

have far more of an arsenal of psychic abilities than they know. We may not have practiced a lot, but

they won’t expect the breadth of abilities we can throw at them.”

Noah took a deep breath before a uniformed guard opened the double doors to the

president’s office. He looked at Ataro for courage, turned his head back and walked straight

into hell.

On the physical level, there were five armed guards, positioned right next to the door.

The president sat behind a huge wooden desk to their left, and the guy who must be Ataro’s

brother stood a step behind him with a huge grin on his face. Another man stood farther

back, near the window. Chimo held a small black device in his hands and when he turned a

knob, the psychic level was suddenly filled with a screeching and buzzing in the air that

seemed to come from all directions. It made his head hurt worse than ever before and the

hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

“Shit, they’ve got some sort of mechanical blocking device.” Ataro had one hand to his

head and looked as if his pain was as bad as Noah’s.

“We have to make it stop.” Noah grabbed his head as the pain increased, blinking his

eyes so he wouldn’t miss any potential physical attacks.

“Now, now.” Chimo shook his head. “Nobody will be stopping anything until you

have both taken off your rings and handed them to the nice guards here. Once that’s done

you won’t be able to send or receive psychic signals anymore and we can have a civilised

conversation about what’s next.”

Noah groaned as Chimo turned the knob on the damnable box again. The screeching

increased and he realised he wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer.

“Fuck it!” Ataro tore the ring off his finger and threw it at one of the guards.

“No!” Noah stepped towards Ataro, but another guard grabbed his upper arm in a

vice-like grip and pulled him back.

“Ah—ah—ahhh! Your ring.” Chimo held out a hand.

Noah, just to be difficult, flung his ring onto the floor so it landed next to Ataro’s.

“Pick those up then leave us alone.” Chimo motioned towards the rings and followed

the guard who picked them up with his gaze. “Get those to safety.”

“Yes, sir.” The guard saluted and turned around to follow his colleagues.

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His glazed look told Noah everything he needed to know. The door closed with a soft

click and they were alone with a madman, the president—who looked a little under the

influence of a hypnotist himself—and the stranger.

“It’s such a bother to wipe their minds afterwards. It’s better to not expose them to what

we’ll need to discuss.” Chimo sighed dramatically and waved at the two leather sofas in

front of the huge desk. “Please, have a seat.”

“Now!” Ataro’s mental voice came through loud and clear. Thank God nobody knew

about their ability to communicate without the rings. It was their one advantage, and it was

coming in very handy.

Noah reached for his lover, took his hand and they both turned towards Chimo at the

same time. Chimo’s eyes widened, but by the time he took a breath, Noah and Ataro were

already inside his head. Paralysing his motor functions as they’d practiced on deer around

their cabin was easy. Digging into his memories to find the proof that he’d been behind

Noah’s kidnapping and attempted murder, as well as the attempt to imprison them a few

hours earlier, didn’t take much longer. They left an order for Chimo not to move within his

consciousness and turned towards the stranger.

Only a few seconds had elapsed on the physical level, so they were just in time to stop

him from pulling the trigger of the gun aimed at Ataro. He fell to the ground with a groan

when they sent his brain the order to faint.

Wow, it worked. Noah turned towards Ataro’s father and helped his lover free him from

the hypnosis he’d been under.

“What the hell?” Ataro’s father jerked as if he’d been physically hit then looked around

himself with widening eyes. “What is going on?”

“Hi, Father. It’s kind of a long story, but we’ll be happy to tell you.” Ataro pointed at

Chimo and the stranger. “These two will need to be guarded well. They’ve been using their

psychic abilities to satisfy their personal greed for power and have hurt a lot of people in the

process. I think they were also about to incapacitate you and take over the running of

Khinan.”

“Those are serious accusations. Can you back them up?” Ataro’s father still looked a bit

dazed, but his eyes had cleared.

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“Every single one.” Ataro nodded. “Just give us some time and we’ll explain

everything.”

* * * *

A few weeks later…

Ataro couldn’t wait to get home to their shared house in one of the outer regions of the

city dome. It was up on a hill just high enough so they could see outside. They had a view of

the ocean from the living room, and one of the forest from their bedroom. It was a small

house, but they were saving up for a bigger place. Their jobs as psychic healers and

occasional researchers paid them good money. The Institute of Psychic Development had

been fascinated to have a couple with a confirmed birthlink to study, even more so because it

had been brutally severed then miraculously mended again. The experts believed much good

would come from understanding that process.

Personally, he had his doubts. What had happened with him and Noah went further

than a normal link. Yes, they had been connected from birth, and maybe that was the cause

for the depth of it. But the fact was that their emotions were involved—always had been—

and that had changed the quality of what they could do. That they were able to mentally

communicate and use their other abilities without wearing their rings still had the specialists

baffled. Whether the cause was the birthlink or love wasn’t important for him. The experts

could argue over that one for the rest of their lives for all he cared.

Today, he was focused on the news he had received for Noah a couple of hours earlier.

He intended to celebrate it as soon as possible. It was one of the few days they hadn’t gone in

to work together because Noah needed to do some reading to catch up with Khinan history,

and their boss at the Institute of Psychic Development had very graciously agreed to give

Noah some extra time for acclimatisation. Ataro grinned. The woman was extremely clever,

since the result was an even harder working Noah on the days he did go to the office.

“I’m home, darling.” He closed the front door behind him, pretty sure he’d find Noah

in their tiny office, perched on the leather chair and with his nose buried in some old book.

The office, however, was empty.

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“Noah?” Ataro searched the kitchen next, then the living room. Where the hell was he?

Ataro went back to the hallway and felt a small tingling at the back of his head when he

moved towards the stairs. Aha! His lover was trying to lead him somewhere. He took the

steps two at a time, hoping that his suspicion was right. When he opened the bedroom door

and saw a completely naked Noah spread out on their bed, he couldn’t stop his shout of

sheer joy. He’d never get enough of his man.

“Hi, honey.” Noah’s grin was almost devilish as he stroked his already hard cock. “I’ve

been waiting for you.”

“So I see.” Ataro got out of his clothes as quickly as possible as he approached the bed.

“Did you have anything specific in mind?”

“Well, let me see.” Noah pretended to think about it. “We’ve been separated all day and

I’ve missed you so I think we need to reconnect.”

“I’ve missed you too.” Ataro knelt between his lover’s legs and put a hand on each

thigh, making small circles with his thumbs. It was another of Noah’s hot spots and the

reaction was immediate. Noah’s hips bucked and he threw his head back in abandon.

“That makes two reasons.” Noah grinned.

“And I have some great news for you, so I guess that makes it three?” Ataro loved that

totally relaxed smile of Noah’s when he was really excited or turned on. Judging by the

breadth of Noah’s grin, it was a combination of both right now.

“I like that. We haven’t had a three-orgasm round in a while. You can tell me the news

later. I think my cock needs some attention first.” Noah reached out to pull Ataro down and

he went willingly, snuggling into that place between Noah’s thighs that allowed them to

align their cocks for some serious frottage.

“And who would I be to deny you?” Ataro bent his head and kissed Noah on the

mouth. His lover opened for him within seconds, and their mutual attempts to bring the

other off was on.

Kissing and grinding his hips into Noah’s hard, muscular body was guaranteed to

make him come in record time. The sexy whimpers Noah made combined with the feeling of

his tongue in Ataro’s mouth, not to mention all the wriggling going on between their lower

bodies, drove him wild every single time. Within minutes, he was too close to shout a

warning. He came, shuddering and trembling with the force of the pleasure that raced

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through his body. Noah was in the same situation, and the sticky mess between them proved

how much they’d both liked the first course.

“Wow. Not bad.” Noah looked up at him with those sky blue eyes of his, all the love

they were beginning to feel for each other brimming over.

“I love your talent for understatement.” He laughed and rolled to the side, grabbing a

towel to wipe them off before pulling Noah into his arms. “That was fantastic.”

“So, do you want to give me the news while we recuperate and plan for round two?”

Noah was dying from curiosity, Ataro could feel it.

“I guess you’re not going to give me a choice.” He grinned, grateful for the agreement

they’d made about keeping surprises shielded from each other.

“Nope, that was not my intention.” Noah moved closer, making sure their legs were

entwined and their groins aligned just so.

A slight stiffening of both their cocks confirmed that he was doing it right.

“Okay, I know you’ve been waiting for this for a while, and I appreciate how patient

you’ve been. But it took the experts a long time to track everything correctly.” He took a deep

breath. “Today I received the official go ahead.”

“You found my birth family!” Noah had tears in his eyes. “Thank you so much.”

“It’s the least I could do. I dragged you off into another dimension and expected you to

just fit into my life.” Ataro smiled.

“It’s not such a hardship. And I didn’t exactly leave the perfect life behind.” Noah

smiled through his tears. “Not to mention the fact that I should have lived here in the first

place. So, in a way, you brought me home.

“Still, I’ll always be grateful you took that step.” Ataro tightened his embrace. “And I’ll

never forgive Chimo. His idiotic kidnapping hurting both of us. Not to mention his

attempted coup using that helper of his because he doesn’t even have enough psychic ability

to pull something like that off on his own.”

“He has to live with the consequences of his actions, though.” Noah shrugged. “All his

greed has gotten him is a life in prison, and I think that is enough of a punishment.”

Ataro nodded. Noah was clearly far more forgiving than he would ever be.

“So, who is my family and do they want to meet me?” Noah looked almost scared.

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“Your parents are Enitana and Tendai Fithian, and they very much want to meet you.

You have no siblings, so they took your kidnapping really badly. They never recovered from

the effects, but can’t wait to see you.” Ataro liked the happy little smile on Noah’s face much

better than the brief show of insecurity earlier.

“We can go tomorrow?” Noah looked so hopeful.

“Sure.” He wasn’t going to tell his lover no. The so-called experts had suggested

waiting for a few days so all concerned could calm down. What did they know? Things like

this couldn’t be postponed.

“Thank you.” Noah lifted his head for a kiss.

Ataro complied willingly, and before he knew it, Noah rolled him over onto his back

and started humping his thigh.

“I want you.” Noah’s thoughts were already jumbled from the arousal flooding his

system. “So much.”

“You have me, you know that, right?” Ataro managed to move enough so he could

grab the lube and hand it to Noah. “But I’ve been wanting you inside me for a while now,

and I think it’s time we physically confirm what we both know in our hearts.”

“Yeah?” Noah opened the lube, coated his fingers and slid his hand behind Ataro’s

back and down into his crease.

“Yeah.” Ataro spread his legs shamelessly to give Noah better access. When the first

finger breached him he moaned. The second made him whimper and the third soon had him

panting for more. “Oh, yeah!”

“How do you want to do this?” Noah kept up the finger fucking with the cutest smile

on his face.

His lover had a preference for doggy style when Ataro did him, but Ataro hadn’t done

this often enough to know what he really liked. He did know that he wanted to see Noah as

he took him for the first time.

“Okay.” Noah manoeuvred them into place, putting his swollen cock at Ataro’s waiting

opening. “Are you ready?”

Ataro nodded and pushed out for all he was worth as Noah slid inside him. It was the

best feeling in the world, but seeing Noah’s face and the concentration and care he took not

to hurt him was almost better. When Noah bottomed out, they both sighed in relief. Ataro

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did his best to relax, but Noah wasn’t exactly small and he hadn’t let anyone fuck him since

one time almost a decade ago.

“Really?” Noah’s eyes widened. “You know you don’t have to do this, right?”

“I do know.”Ataro reached up and cupped Noah’s face. “But I desperately want to.

And with you it feels right, you know? Just like with our psychic link. I knew everyone else

was wrong for me, but I immediately clicked with you. This is the same.”

At least his babbling had lasted long enough for him to be able to relax. He nodded at

Noah, too unfocused to be sure his thoughts alone could do the job anymore. Noah pulled

out and thrust back in at such an angle that Ataro’s prostate was brushed both times.

“Fuck!” His back arched and his cock got even harder. “More!”

And Noah gave him more. He thrust long and deep then gradually sped up before

slowing down again. Ataro was out of his mind with lust by the time Noah looked as if he

was ready to let him come.

“Harder.” He could really get to like this feeling of Noah pounding his ass with all he

had. The pleasure as his lover hit his spot repeatedly was finally too much. “Fuuuck!”

Without even touching himself, he came, spurting hot semen between their bodies.

Noah kept fucking him and Ataro thought he’d never stop coming. When he finally had no

more to give, Noah let go and filled him up.

“Two down.” Noah withdrew and collapsed beside him.

“You can still count?” He was having a hard time stringing more than two words

together.

“Barely.” Noah laughed and cuddled in.

Minutes later their breaths had slowed down and Noah had found the energy to clean

them up a little. His ass was a little sore, but he could still feel Noah. Amazing! He looked

over at Noah to see how he was doing. Number three in the shower sounded good to him,

but as exhausted as Noah looked, it might be a better idea to wait a bit. After all, there was

no rush.

“You okay?” Ataro slid a second arm around Noah’s back. He couldn’t get close

enough without repeating what they’d just done.

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“Yeah, more than okay.” Noah smiled. “Coming here and getting used to a different

dimension was a challenge at first, but having you at my side, and soon maybe even my birth

family, makes all the difference.”

And that was as it should be. Psychic links were one thing, but it was the emotions that

really counted and, ultimately, gave the links the depth they needed to be permanent. Ataro

knew that he would love Noah until the end of his life—link or no link. He didn’t need to

meet that challenge to want to make it come true.

“I love you.” Noah closed his eyes and moved his head onto Ataro’s chest.

“Love you too.” Ataro smiled and buried his nose in Noah’s hair. They hadn’t yet said

the words very often, but he was sure they would, given time.

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About the Author

I’m a night owl who starts writing when everyone else in my time zone is asleep. I’ve
loved reading all my life and spent most of my childhood with my nose buried in a
book. Although I always wanted to be a writer, financial independence came first.
Twenty-some years and a successful business career later I took some online writing
classes and never looked back.

Living and working in seven countries has taught me that there’s more than one way
to get things done. It has instilled tremendous respect for the many different cultures,
beliefs, attitudes and preferences that exist on our planet.

I like exploring those differences in my stories, most of which happen to be romances.
My characters have a tendency to want to do their own thing, so I often have to rein
them back in. The one thing we all agree on is the desire for a happy ending.

I currently live in the United Kingdom, sharing my house with a vast collection of
books. I like reading, travelling, spending time with my nieces and listening to
classical music. I have a passion for science and learning new languages.

Email:

serenayates09@googlemail.com

Serena loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and
author biography at

http://www.total-e-bound.com

Also by Serena Yates

Men of Riverside: Finding Elliot

Men of Riverside: Rediscovering Adrian

Men of Riverside: Understanding Mark

Men of Riverside: Saving Zeke

Men of Riverside: Forgiving Jason

Men of Riverside: Loving Vicente

Men of Riverside: Convincing Landon

Men of Riverside: Helping Harry

Scrolls of Vengeance: The Magic Thieves

New Horizons: Rescuing the Librarian

New Horizons: Discovering the Actor

New Horizons: Encouraging the Writer

New Horizons: Supporting the Director

New Horizons: Saving the Bodyguard

New Horizons: Noticing the Finance Manager

New Horizons: Developing the Counsellor

New Horizons: Liberating the Security Specialist

www.total-e-bound.com

Mi Amore Collection: Max’s Italian Romance

Sins of Summer: Summer Escape

Sins of Autumn: Autumn Quest

Also available from Total-E-Bound Publishing:

Sins of Autumn

D.J. Manly, A.J. Llewellyn and Serena Yates

Excerpt

Hail Storm by D.J.Manly

When Hail Storm came to New York the first time, Chance was only thirteen years old.

The year before, he’d been stuck in the hospital, waiting to die. His parents were extremely

protective of him ever since he’d got his second chance at life. Although it annoyed the hell

out of him, he understood. What he didn’t understand was why his father was so against

anything that specifically had to do with Hail Storm. Chance had saved all his allowance for

six months to purchase a ticket to their show. He did odd jobs and had even secretly skipped

his lunch on occasion. When the box office opened, Chance got there early in the morning

before school, knowing he’d find himself at the back of a long line because people had been

camping out all night waiting for tickets. He racked his brain in order to come up with a

good excuse for missing his morning classes.

He purchased the cheapest ticket. It was way up in the rafters but it didn’t matter. He’d

be in the same room with them. He was still so damn excited he couldn’t concentrate on

anything except that damn ticket. As for his dad, he figured if he bought the ticket he’d have

to let him go.

He was wrong.

His father said no, and Chance knew by the way he said it, he really meant it. He even

cancelled his shift at the hospital that night so that he could take Chance to a movie instead.

Chance knew it was his way of making sure he didn’t sneak out and go to the show despite

his father’s objections.

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Chance was miserable. He even cried bitter tears and refused to go to the movie. He

locked himself in his room, hating his father and vowing never to forgive him. His mother

tried talking to his father before she left for work that night. She told him some of Chance’s

other friends were going with their parents and he could get a ride there and back. “It’s

perfectly safe,” she said. “Why won’t you let him go?”

His father wouldn’t budge. Even his mother found it hard to explain. Chance knew she

felt sorry for him but that didn’t make him feel any better. His heroes were in the same city

and he even had a ticket to the show, yet he couldn’t go. It was too cruel.

Jackson and Pete couldn’t go, either, but that was because their parents weren’t doctors,

and they had no money to fork over for tickets. Chance would have given his ticket to one of

them but he knew it wasn’t fair to choose one over the other, so instead the ticket sat on his

bureau, unused. Chance’s two best friends stood together outside the stadium, watching the

limo speed into the underground parking lot. Pete called him on his cell phone to tell him

about it.

* * * *

It was wacky and bizarre, yet really wonderful in its own way. Chance never expected

that their performance at a school talent contest would lead to hundreds of people

wandering around in a field somewhere dressed up like members of Hail Storm. Still, none

of them had been to a Hail Storm concert. Circumstances had always seemed to work against

them.

No one could have guessed that an amateurish video, shot in a dimly lit high school

auditorium, would capture the imagination of a host of Hail Storm fans, prompting them to

come together in a farmer’s field outside New York. Shortly after the video became popular,

they were interviewed by all the local media. “We’re celebrities,” Jackson exclaimed. “I’ve

got girls crawling all over the place.”

Jackson was bisexual. He’d experimented but he leaned more towards girls. Pete and

Chance were into guys. They jokingly told Jackson he could have their share of the female

groupies. His response was, “You can have all the guys…except I want the ones who look

like Danson Storm.”

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They were all really excited that Friday afternoon when they headed out of town in a

minivan borrowed from Pete’s older brother. They were all talking in bursts about the

comments on the Internet site, while Hail Storm’s latest CD blared in the background.

“Do you think the television people will be there?” Pete asked, following Jackson’s

directions as Jackson traced his finger along the map.

“I imagine,” Chance replied. “I wouldn’t mind seeing that cute DJ again.”

“He was hot,” Pete said.

Jackson laughed. “You guys—sex, sex, sex.”

Full by A.J.Llewellyn

It started with me stuffing my face with somebody else’s birthday cake, and ended with

my finding a mysterious business card that sent me on a bizarre, life-altering journey with

just one word—Full.

Yeah, I know. Weird, right?

Full.

I’d been the one delegated to pick up my sister Cyan’s birthday cake that fateful Friday

night. What did they think they were doing asking the fat guy to pick up a cake and head

clear across the San Fernando Valley in peak-hour traffic? What did they think would

happen?

It started with just one rose.

I’d lifted the lid just to check on Cyan’s creamy, two hundred dollar creation from

Sweet Lady Jane bakery. I’d been so good up until now. As I waited on the 101 freeway-

turned-parking-lot near the 405 interchange, I got antsy. It was hot. Fall was always hotter in

Los Angeles than the actual summer.

On the radio, local blowhards John and Ken were discussing the outrage of a pizzeria in

the Los Angeles suburb of Maywood that only accepted pesos for pizza. Whilst they gnashed

their teeth over this and the whole illegal immigration issue, all I could think of was how

much I’d like a pizza right now. Since I didn’t have one, cake seemed like a pretty good

substitute.

I really did open the box just to check on that expensive cake. Honest.

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The delicious scent of rose-infused icing tickled my nose and shot straight through to

my taste buds without my permission. Just one icing rose. I could do it. I could cover up the

space. At the age of thirty-two, I’ve been hiding my eating habits for years. What was one

single rose?

Mmm…so tasty. I ate it in one gulp, my starved senses wallowing in all that butter

cream. For three days I’d been on my new Weight Watchers diet and my body had no idea

what had happened to it. Dare I eat a second one? I looked around. Cars on either side of me,

the drivers in varying degrees of stress.

But I had a cake.

Yeah…I did dare.

That’s when my problems started. The cake didn’t look right. I had to even things up a

little and pick a rose from the other side. Uh-oh. Now it looked like it was missing something.

On the radio, John and Ken screamed at some hapless guy from the pizzeria who could

barely speak English.

“You no want to order pizza?” he kept asking. “Is nice!”

“This isn’t Mexico, amigo!” the radio hosts shouted in unison.

I turned down the radio as I peered inside the box. The cake looked weird. Okay. I’d

gone too far. Maybe…okay, maybe if I ate a couple of leaves that would make things look

better. I checked the dashboard clock. Ten minutes to six. I had ten minutes to make it to my

sister’s Encino house in time for her pre-dinner drinks.

I ate a rose from the middle edge of the cake, twisting the box around on the passenger

seat. I took a credit card from my wallet and used it to smooth down the icing. I began to

worry about bacteria from the card. Hell, I’d welcome death by bacteria if my sister saw the

cake in this condition and freaked out. She’d murder me for sure, but in a slow and painful

way. She’d make me watch Zumba DVDs or something. She was an exercise freak.

Blinking, I wondered what the hell had come over me. I was on a strict eating plan of

twenty-nine points a day on Weight Watchers. How many points were in a single rose? How

many had I eaten? Two, three…nine?

Now, I did feel a bit guilty. It sort of looked…bare. It was like that episode of I Love

Lucy…you know, the one where Lucy and Ethel wear the same dress and rip the flowers

from each other’s bodices live on camera.

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Each time I tried to fix my problem, I made another one. I began to panic, especially

when the traffic started to move. I drove with the cake perched on my knee. It got all mushed

up in the box. Maybe that would be my excuse.

Autumn Quest by Serena Yates

“This can’t be right.” Bayar stared at the ragged piece of ancient parchment in his

hands. Faded ink markings indicated boundaries—the names of cities and villages more

legendary than a collection of wizard myths. “I thought the Khaganate was just a legend?”

He stroked the folds and creases, trying to flatten the map so he could make sense of

what he saw. The musty odour of ancient dust fluffing up from the mysterious document’s

wrinkles made his nose itch. It had been hidden at the back of one of the spell books he’d

recently discovered in the oldest section of the Naiman Royal Library. Small wonder no one

had come across it in living memory. Tradition limited the research of history and the Old

Magic to those of royal blood. Very few of his family members showed any interest in

understanding their past, so he was on his own.

If the landmarks he was familiar with were any indication, the Khaganate had been

even bigger than oral history hinted at. From the looks of it, the legendary empire that was

supposed to have existed before it broke apart into today’s smaller khanates and chiefdoms,

had stretched from sea to sea—as far north as the icy realm and farther south than any

caravan in living memory had dared to go.

“Vashir Khan requests your presence in the council room immediately, your highness.”

The palace guard’s voice shocked Bayar back into reality.

“What—my father wants to see me right now?” Bayar sighed, shoving his glasses back

up to the top of his nose. “I’m in the middle of something here.”

“Yes, your highness, right now.” The guard stood a respectful few paces away from the

large table Bayar was working at today. “The matter is quite urgent and, as you know, the

Khan does not like to be kept waiting.”

“Isn’t it always urgent?” Bayar shook his head as he carefully put the flattened piece of

parchment into a protective sleeve before sliding it into the folder containing his notes and

other research materials.

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The guard remained unsmiling and quiet while Bayar dusted himself off, the dark

green of his velvet vest only slowly reappearing. He put his reading glasses into a pocket and

grabbed his folder before following the impassive guard into the long, quiet corridors. Deep

carpets covered the cold stone floor and muffled the sounds of their booted steps.

“Finally!” His father’s voice boomed across the ancient council chamber adjacent to the

throne room. “Sit down so we can get to the bottom of this problem.”

What the hell was going on? Not only was the whole family present, but the two royal

councillors had also made an appearance. His mother puckered her brows in a very un-

queenly scowl. Both of his elder brothers looked angry, and his younger sister wrung her

hands. Bayar quietly joined them, focusing on keeping his hands from visibly shaking with

nerves. He much preferred the company of his books to that of people…even his family. He

grimaced. Especially his family.

“I have some very bad news to share.” His father raked the bushy white hair that made

him look far older than his fifty-five years. “The confounded parchment thief managed to get

into the Royal Library last night.”

Bayar suddenly felt ice cold. The unthinkable had finally happened and the royal

defences had been breached. Whoever this thief was, he clearly had no respect for their

traditions. Damnation! He looked around. Everyone in the room seemed to share his shock, if

all the dropped jaws and horrified looks were any indication. The majority might be more

worried about the potential political implications than the threat of ancient knowledge being

lost to the hands of incompetent ruffians, but their fears were just as real as his concerns.

“As usual, he’s left a disgusting piece of rotten fruit to ‘replace’ the stolen book, so we

know it was him. Differently from usual, there was also a note.” His father frowned. “The

content was slightly puzzling but made it clear this thievery is part of a bigger campaign,

possibly directed at destabilising the government.”

“What did it say?” Bayar leant forwards, not wanting to miss potentially revealing

information.

“Autumn is not only the season of harvests. It is also the precursor for winter, the season of

death.” His father straightened his golden vest, a sign that he was ready to go on the

offensive. “The arrogance of stealing an irreplaceable historical book from right under our

noses just galls me! Together with this note, delivered on the first day of autumn, the act is a

clear threat against the royal family, possibly the entire government. That is unacceptable. He

has got to be stopped.”

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