The Cascade Country Club was every bit as elitist as Jim remembered it. 
Many of Cascade's top power players were arriving for lunch as Jim and Blair
walked into the lobby looking for Bill.  When they spotted him, he was laughing
and talking with two other men about his age.  All three were wearing suits that
looked as if they cost as much as good used cars.

     Blair adjusted his tie nervously, glad beyond words that Jim was by his
side.  He felt as if he were attending a costume party dressed up in the dark blue
suit, white shirt and tie, his hair pulled back neatly in a pony tail.  Jim, on the
other hand, looked like a bank president in his gray suit, white shirt and tie.  Blair
did his best not to gape at Jim adoringly, but he found that challenging.  Jim had
cast off his jeans and a favorite old plaid shirt at home, and transformed into
something entirely different.  He had all the poise and dignity necessary to blend
in with the country club crowd.

     "Jimmy, this is a surprise," Bill said, sounding genuinely pleased for the
rare opportunity to have his son with him at his club.  

     "So this is the famous Jimmy Ellison, huh?"  the taller of Bill's
companions asked, smiling and holding out his had.  "Ethan Whitney," he said,
introducing himself as Jim shook his hand.  A well-built man with an imposing
presence and a thick mop of white hair, Ethan Whitney was the semi-retired
founding partner of Whitney, Devon & Whitney, one of Cascade's most
prestigious corporate law firms.  

     "Mr. Whitney, it's a pleasure," Jim said, smiling.

     "Ethan, please.  As much as Bill talks about you, I feel as if we know each
other."

     "Ethan, Andy, this is my son Jim, and his partner, Blair Sandburg.  Blair,
Jimmy, this is Ethan Whitney and Anderson Riley," Bill introduced, including the
shorter, stockier man who stood next to Ethan.  After handshakes all around, Bill
gestured toward the entrance to the dining room.  "Shall we?"  

     The group was escorted by the hostess to a table near the windows
overlooking what was, during the winter months, a cold, empty expanse of
impeccably landscaped golf course.  Inside the club was a considerable expanse of
top-quality business suits, Rolex watches and the hum of polite conversation. 
Blair waited for the moment when he would mistakenly wipe his mouth with the
tablecloth, knock over the water on Anderson Riley, who was seated next to him,
or open his mouth to talk and have a string of completely incoherent words
dribble out instead of all his well-thought-out arguments.  Wealthy people didn't
intimidate him as a rule.  They were just people with bigger bank balances, and
relating to people was his speciality.  But this was Bill's domain, the seat of
wealth in Cascade, and the best gateway to the pocketbooks of the area's leading
philanthropists.  Jim was already conversing easily with Ethan Whitney, and only
his striking good looks made him stand out from the rest of the crowd.  He could
have easily been a young CEO or successful attorney. 

     For a while, it seemed as if the two men were primarily interested in
hearing some first-hand war stories from Jim from both his police work and his
Army Ranger days.  Jim obliged, drawing Blair into the conversation on a few
case discussions.  It proved to be a good ice-breaker, and by the time the real
subject of their luncheon arose, the group was fairly at ease with one another. 

     "So, Blair, tell us about this shelter you're trying to get off the ground,"
Andy said, leaning back in his chair. 

     "It's still in the formative stages," Blair began, hating himself for feeling
nervous in this setting when he could address a group of academics larger than the
lunch crowd at a conference and not give it a second thought.  "I'm not sure how
much Bill's told you, but I'm presently supervising the Domestic Violence Unit at
the Cascade PD.  It's a solid program, though it's not as well-funded as it needs to
be to effectively serve the client population.  Presently, we have a 'safe house' for
abuse and assault victims, but it's a small apartment.  Many of our clients are
women, or women with children, so if those shelters happen to be full and we
house a woman there for protection, we aren't able to offer any facilities to our
male clients."

     "You mean male children?"  Ethan asked.  "They would be placed in a
juvenile facility, wouldn't they?  If they were removed from the home?"

     "In many cases, yes.  But I'm referring to adult males.  There are no
facilities in this area, and almost none in the Pacific Northwest, that provide
residential programs for male victims of domestic violence or sexual abuse and
assault."

     "Probably because there aren't too many men out there being beaten up by
their wives," Andy said, chuckling.  "Although my wife has a pretty good left
hook on her."  That brought a laugh from Ethan, and an uneasy half-smile from
Bill who seemed to sense the meeting was going down hill fast.

     "Survey research has indicated there are anywhere between 400,000 and
over 800,000 male victims of domestic violence each year.  Every 15 seconds, a
woman is seriously assaulted by her domestic partner every 14.6 seconds, a man
is assaulted by his partner.  The services and assistance available to them is not
only far from being equal to what is available to a woman in similar
circumstances, but is nonexistent in many areas.  And some of these men are
being abused or assaulted by male partners, and they, too, have nowhere to turn
for help.  The shelter we're planning to open would serve as a resource for the
Pacific Northwest.  Any man who found himself in such a situation and needed
temporary lodging or protection would be able to stay at the shelter, receive
counseling, assistance in going through the process of pressing charges, medical
care if necessary, and the chance to talk with other men going through similar
experiences."  Blair watched Bill's friends carefully for their reactions.  They were
silent, staring at him as if he'd sprouted a second head.  

     "So this is essentially a project to assist the homosexual community?" 
Andy surmised.  The conversation paused as the waitress arrived with their lunch. 
Once the plates were on the table and she had taken her leave, Jim spoke up,
frustrated to see that all Blair's impassioned words had been dismissed once the
issue of homosexuality had been mentioned.  

     "Some of these men will be in homosexual relationships, no question.  Of
course, just recently, we had a homicide case that arose from a sexual assault on a
male by his girlfriend.  He didn't stop her because he didn't want to hurt her. 
Because he *was* so much larger and stronger than she was, and because he'd
seen his mother abused by his father, he didn't use the physical advantage he had. 
Think about it a moment.  If a woman hit you, what would your reaction be?"

     "Not hitting her in return, that's for sure," Ethan said, nodding.  "You're
involved in this project as well, Jim?"  

     "Very much so.  Blair and I bought the house being used for the shelter,
and we've done a lot of the renovations ourselves.  Blair's done some remarkable
work with the DVU, and I have every confidence he can turn this shelter into a
key resource for abuse victims in this region."

     "Do you have any figures on how many people you might expect to serve
in a year?"  Ethan asked Blair.

     "The only statistics I can provide at this point are the ones I've mentioned,
and I have prepared a draft grant request that contains much more detail.  As for
how many men we will end up serving here, that number is difficult to determine. 
Men are reluctant to file charges or even report the abuse, so the solid numbers are
difficult to pin down.  I've spoken to a couple of people who run shelters in other
cities that do accept men, and they say they have to turn men away because the
facility serves both men and women, and clients with children, and there just isn't
room.  The men are often referred to homeless shelters, and that's not the same
thing as a shelter where they receive counseling, medical care if necessary, and
support in dealing with the legal system."

     "Blair has done an exceptional job coordinating the Domestic Violence
Unit at the police department," Bill spoke up.  "I've visited him there, and I've
reviewed drafts of his grant proposals.  I'm impressed, and I'm frankly unnerved
by the statistics I *am* hearing.  My only concern is that Blair's grant requests
have thus far focused only on the shelter and the DVU.  I think we need to also
consider the issue of public service announcements and public education.  This
isn't going to be viewed as a significant issue until the public is educated.  Once
they are, it would be easier for the shelter to attract funding from a variety of
sources."

     "This isn't the type of thing we usually support, Bill.  You know that,"
Andy said, slicing the small steak he'd ordered for lunch.  

     "We've made grants to women's programs and child abuse prevention and
education programs."

     "This isn't a gay or straight issue," Blair spoke up.  "If you're concerned
that you're going to be making a grant to something that will only serve one
segment of the male population, please don't let that stop you.  Gay and straight
men alike are in these situations and need help.  And as much as I don't like the
indifference I see in a lot of people toward this issue, one thing I encountered in
my research is spot-on.  Women's groups began the fight against domestic
violence against women.  It's going to be up to men to start a movement in their
own behalf.  We're not seen as a minority, or as suffering any sort of
discrimination.  We're viewed as the powerful segment of society the women need
protection from in bad cases, or who do the protecting in good cases.  But you
know, that's all set on its ear the first time you go into a police station and try to
convince one of the cops there that your wife is abusing you.  Or that your
girlfriend just sexually assaulted you.  Or that you're afraid for your children
because your wife is unstable and violent.  Or when you're arrested for assaulting
your wife or girlfriend and try to convince the cops that you were acting in self-
defense.  We're used to being on top, being in charge, being in control.  Maybe it
makes us all uneasy to admit there can be cases where we're not.  But until we
admit it, face it, and do something about it, it's not going to get any better."

     "It's apparent you feel very passionately about this, Blair.  And it's an
admirable cause, but I don't see it as something appropriate for us as a funding
agency.  Bill, you know we don't have that large a budget," Ethan said, looking at
Bill, who smiled and shook his head.  

     "Blair predicted this wouldn't work, and I didn't listen to him.  I apparently
had a false vision of what the CCF is all about."

     "You know what we're all about," Andy spoke up.  "Educational and social
welfare programs.  But we have a flood of requests and this particular one can't
show us a solid set of projections for the client population to be served.  Most of
the other projects can."

     "We have $3 million to hand out this year, gentlemen."  Bill sat back in his
chair, tossing his napkin on the table.  "We can afford to do something about this. 
We can do something with possible national impact.  We can support a program
that is completely unique to this whole region.  Those are the elements in a
proposal that usually propel it to the top of the heap, and you know it."

     "Perhaps we could allocate a small grant for supplies or expenses "

     "Damn it, Ethan, we hand out more than that to buy new basketballs for
the college," Bill said, annoyed.  

     "Bill, I appreciate what you're doing, but if these gentlemen aren't
interested in this proposal, I doubt you're going to force them into seeing any merit
in it."  Blair paused.  "It's easy to feel impervious to something like this until you
find yourself in a situation you never thought you'd be in.  Like the elderly men
who are intimidated and abused physically, emotionally and financially by
younger wives, or second wives and their grown children who are trying to get
their hands on the assets.  This isn't a rich and poor thing, it's not a gay or straight
thing.  It *is* a man thing, and we're not used to feeling threatened.  But the threat
is out there, and you can be on top of the world one minute," Blair said, gesturing
at the opulent surroundings, "and at the mercy of someone you loved and trusted
who is abusing that trust the next."

     "I think we've heard enough," Andy said.

     "You're dismissing everything Blair said because you're afraid you're going
to help some gay men, isn't that it?"  Jim asked, his voice level, a scornful smile
on his face.

     "We want to fund projects that serve the largest possible client population. 
This is a very narrow segment of the community," Ethan said.  "If men aren't
reporting all this alleged abuse, then they aren't going to show up at your shelter."

     "Then how about forgetting funding the shelter and approve a grant for
education and public awareness?"  Bill countered.  Both of his colleagues looked
uneasy then, as if they'd been pinned like live butterflies to a collector's board. 
"Maybe you're right.  Maybe the shelter won't attract many clients until we start
educating our community about this issue."

     "We could consider something along those lines, I suppose," Ethan finally
said.  "Submit your proposal, Blair, and we'll take it to the next board meeting. 
We can't make any promises."

     "You can tell me if I have *your* support," Blair said.  "If you're opposed
to this, and want to kill it before it has a chance, then you and I both know I'm
wasting time and paper turning in a proposal."

     "I would be willing to support a grant for public education in this regard,"
Ethan said.  Andy shot him a venomous look.  "I'm not prepared to support a grant
for the shelter, because I'm not convinced that without public education, there will
be a significant number of individuals served by it.  If we support a grant for
things like public service announcements and some community seminars or
programs...I'm sure Blair could design something...and it still doesn't get off the
ground, we'll know it's a losing cause and we can decline any further funding.  But
if we find there *is* a need for this, we could do the community a significant
service, and that *is* part of our mission."

     "I suppose if you two are sold on this, I can agree to considering a grant for
some public service announcements or something like that," Andy conceded
grudgingly.

     "Get your proposal in final draft form, Blair," Bill said.  "Andy, Ethan and
I will review it, and then we'll meet again to go over it.  If we're satisfied with it,
we'll recommend it for funding when the full board meets."

     "You won't regret it.  This is a big need in every community, and I think in
the long run, people are going to see the Cascade Community Foundation as
pioneers for tackling this issue.  I really appreciate your support, and the
opportunity to present a formal proposal."

********

     "I sucked."

     "You did fine, Chief," Jim said, starting up the truck, chuckling a little at
Blair's dismal assessment. 

     "I sounded like a dork.  They're gonna kill it, Jim.  They didn't want any
part of it.  Then I turned around and gave them the ammunition they needed to use
my own statistics against me by stating that men don't report the abuse.  If they
don't report it, they can't very well stay in a shelter."  Blair shook his head.  "I've
come face to face with headhunters, Jim, and I was so fucking nervous talking to
those two old...*walruses* that I know I blew the whole thing."

     "You didn't blow anything, sweetheart.  You kept your cool, you knew
your facts..."  Jim shrugged.  "Let's face it.  Either they were going to be receptive
to something like this or they were going to shoot it down.  If they shot it down, it
was *not* your fault."  Jim spared a glance at Blair as they slowed up for a stop
light.  "You want to tell me what's really got you upset?"

     "I never used to feel so nervous around people, Jim.  People have been my
whole field of study.  Relating to them, psyching them out, hitting them where
they live when I talk to them so I can make a connection."

     "That's what you did.  Bringing up the issue of the abuse of elderly men by
their younger wives was poetry.  Andy Riley's married to a thirty-five-year-old
divorcee with two kids.  That's why he killed the conversation.  You made him
damn uneasy."  Jim smiled.  "I remember Dad joking about the fact he'd probably
keel over one of these days from all the booze, fried food and a wife half his age."  

     "My mouth went dry and I thought my throat was gonna close up on me a
couple times.  I was *scared*, Jim.  I've addressed a whole room full of academics
without breaking a sweat."

     "Before or after Watson?"  Jim said flatly.

     "Before, I guess.  My career wasn't exactly in high gear while I was with
Vince."

     "When you first came home from the hospital, you were afraid to disagree
with me about what kind of shoes you wanted to buy.  The way you've pulled
yourself together and gotten on with your life is remarkable, Chief.  But you have
to cut yourself a little slack once in a while."  Jim started away from the corner
after the angry honk of a car horn behind them.  "Watson made a project out of
scaring the shit out of you every time you opened your mouth.  That's bound to
take a while to totally reverse."

     "I'm glad you were there.  It really helped."  Blair smiled.  "It always
helps."

     "So, you wanna go get something to eat?"

     "We just came from lunch," Blair said, laughing.

     "You ate two bites at most, and that plate of weeds they served me
wouldn't satisfy a mosquito.  Let's go grab some Chinese food before I have to go
in this afternoon."

     "Sounds great."

     "Believe me when I tell you that you did just fine, Chief.  Quit beating
yourself up.  If those two old buzzards can't see any value in what we're trying to
accomplish, that's their problem."

     "They're holding the purse strings, Jim.  That makes it our problem."

********

     Blair took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.  He knew he
was due for an eye appointment one of these days, and there was a good chance
he'd be getting used to a different prescription this time.  It seemed like he was
bumping up the font size more and more lately as he labored over these grant
proposals.  

     Since he was staying up late anyway to work on the proposal, when Jim
arrived home from work a little before midnight, he'd gone downstairs to work off
a little excess energy on his drums.  Blair smiled at that, delighted that Jim was
finally getting a chance to express himself a little, and to let his wilder side have
its moments of freedom.  Plus, seeing Jim decked out in his motorcycle leathers
every now and then was a nice side benefit.  

     The rhythmic thumping of the drums almost obscured the sound of the
thump that came from overhead.  Blair frowned at that, not having heard that
particular sound before.  He'd heard all manner of creaks, groans and assorted
banging pipes in the old house, and he was used to them now.  But this had been a
very distinct thump.  

     After taking a moment to save the proposal to the hard drive, he left his
office and went to the foot of the stairs.  Everything was quiet now, except for the
racket Jim was making in the basement.  There was a dim light upstairs coming
from their bedroom, where Jim had gone to change his clothes when he first got
home.  If anyone were in the house who shouldn't be, Jim would have detected it
when he got home.  It was cold outside, and all the windows were shut and
locked.  Shaking off the little twinge of fear he felt about venturing up into the
shadowy upper floor, Blair climbed the stairs and turned on the hall light.  He
looked in their bedroom, where nothing appeared to be disturbed.  Jim's gun was
on the dresser in its holster, and after staring at it a moment, Blair succumbed to
the urge to take it with him on the rest of his exploration.  

     Bolstered by the heavy, cool assurance of the gun in his hand, he checked
all the other rooms and found nothing out of place.  Laughing at himself for
making such melodrama out of a thump in an old house, he was about to return to
the bedroom to replace the gun in its holster when the door at the end of the hall
that led to the attic creaked slowly, opening halfway.  

     "Shit," Blair muttered, swallowing.  "Michael, if this is your idea of a joke,
it's not funny," Blair said to the silence of the upstairs hall.  There was another
thump from above.  Shivering a little as a chill went up his spine, Blair forced
himself to go to the partially open door and push it open the rest of the way.  He
turned on the light that bathed the narrow staircase in a friendly yellow glow.  He
flirted with the temptation of calling Jim, and then resolved he was not going to
run downstairs yelling for Jim to come up and look for the bogeyman.  

     He made his way up the slightly creaky stairs until he found himself in the
middle of the large attic.  He smiled and let out an audible sigh of relief when he
saw a carton lying on its side, its contents spilled on the polished hardwood floor.  

     "So much for bogeymen in the attic," Blair scolded himself, laughing as he
crouched to gather up the papers and other items from the carton.  

     There was a creaking on the stairs then, heading up toward the attic. 
Startled, he turned with the gun in his hand, aiming it at the stairs.  

     "Whoa, there, Chief, it's just me!"  Jim said, freezing near the top step.

     "Oh my God," Blair looked at the gun in his hand before dropping it as if it
were white hot.  "Oh my God, Jim."

     "You didn't shoot, Chief.  No harm done," Jim said, picking up the gun. 
"The safety was still on, so unless you planned on shooting me, you couldn't have
done it."  Jim set the gun on a nearby carton.  Blair was still staring at him,
shaking visibly.  "Blair, honey, you didn't fire it.  You couldn't have shot me
before you knew it was me because you left the safety on, just like we talked
about," Jim said, taking a hold of Blair's shoulders.  They had discussed handling
the gun in just such a situation, agreeing that since they both knew how to take off
the safety quickly if the need to fire arose, anytime they would ever have reason to
carry or aim the gun in the house, they would leave it on until they had a clear
visual identification of the person they were aiming at.

     "I could have killed you."

     "No, Blair, you couldn't have.  You left the safety on.  It's okay, Chief.  No
harm done.  You just startled me, that's all."

     "I'm sorry.  Oh, God, Jim, I'm sorry."  Blair wrapped his arms around Jim
tightly, and felt the pressure returned.  "I heard the carton fall, but I didn't know
what it was, and when I came up here, I just had the jitters and I took the gun off
the dresser."

     "Shhh."  Jim kissed his hair, a hand rubbing gently over his back.  "You
did just fine, Chief.  You left the safety on until you saw who you were aiming at. 
No cop could do any better.  I can think of at least twice when Jack and I almost
shot each other, but we didn't.  You know how to handle a gun and how to do it
safely, or I wouldn't leave it lying around not if I thought you were going to do
something stupid and blow my head off by mistake," Jim added, smiling. "You're
shaking like crazy, sweetheart.  Try to calm down.  You didn't do anything wrong
and I'm fine."

     "I pointed that thing at you, and it's loaded.  What if the safety didn't work
or if my finger slipped or something?"

     "What if a storm suddenly blew up and that big pine tree near the house
fell on us?  Stupid shit like that happens, but it's not likely and it's not frequent
with people who know how to handle guns and do it carefully.  It's pretty unlikely
the safety would malfunction, your finger would slip, and you'd shoot without
looking at who you were shooting in a fully lit room all at the same time."

     "I'm never gonna touch that goddamned gun again."

     "That's your choice, Blair, but I'm not nervous about you touching it and
you're beating yourself up over nothing."

     "Killing you isn't nothing."

     "Well, no argument there, but you didn't do that.  Do I look dead?"

     "You know what I mean."

     "Enough."  Jim pulled back, then leaned in to kiss Blair's mouth.  "No
harm was done, and I wasn't even in danger."  Jim picked up the gun and aimed it
at a stack of cartons, then pressed on the trigger.  Nothing happened.  "See?  I just
tried to fire it and nothing.  You didn't even try to fire it."

     "I guess it's just the image of me panicking and shooting you..."

     "Which is why we leave the safety on the gun unless we're sure, and why
we don't shoot unless we see who we're shooting at.  We went over all this, baby."

     "I know.  I just hate that I pointed it at you."

     "So what is all this junk?  The carton just fell over?"  Jim looked behind it
where it had been stacked.  There was nothing to suggest that it should fall, no
sign that it had been piled carelessly or that the stack was even remotely shaky or
unstable.  

     "Looks like the old stuff I had when I was...with Vince.  I put it away,
remember?"  Blair froze where he had crouched to pick up the papers and
notebooks.  "Jim, I put this carton at the bottom.  I don't remember just where, but
it wasn't on top of stuff out here."

     "Is it possible you moved stuff around?  You were looking for some books
up here a couple weeks ago.  I remember hearing you ferreting around in this stuff
for hours."

     "I think I'd remember if I put this particular box of stuff somewhere
different."  Blair handed Jim a pile of letters bound together with a rubber band. 
"Those are the letters Mary Ellen Watson gave me.  I never wanted to read them
again, but I felt weird throwing them out, because they had meaning to her."

     "What really happened tonight?  You heard a noise up here?"

     "Two noises.  And the door at the end of the hall opened by itself."

     "This is vintage Michael, you know that," Jim said, his easy acceptance of
their resident ghost calming Blair's nerves a little.  "Michael, next time you knock
something over, clean up after yourself," he said, chuckling as he helped Blair
piled the materials back in the box.  

     The overhead light went out, leaving them momentarily in darkness, then
flashed back on again.  

     "I think you pissed him off, Jim," Blair said, looking up at the light for a
moment.

     "He only gets pissed off when he has something to say and we don't
listen."  Jim looked back in the open box.  "What's in here that could be
important?  Michael's not in the habit of throwing things around the attic like a
garden variety poltergeist just for the hell of it."

     "Some old notes from classes I was taking back then," Blair said, rifling
through the box.  "Vince's budget, the fucking asshole."  Blair tossed that
notebook aside and kept digging.

     "His budget?"  Jim picked up the book.  Almost everything entered on the
ledger-style pages were in Blair's handwriting.  

     "If I spent anything, I had to record it.  Especially if I was short on the
amount he expected me to pay every month."

     "Bastard."

     "All that's left is a shoebox with some old photos in it."  Blair stared at it. 
"I'd just as soon not go through these again."

     "You mind if I look through them?"

     "No, go ahead.  Why don't you bring them downstairs?  I've still got some
work to do on that proposal, and I've got a fire going in the office."

     "Sounds great."  

     Ensconced in the cozy office with the fire crackling, Blair clicked away at
his computer keyboard while Jim sat in the big leather chair near the fireplace and
sorted through the photos.  Watson obviously took a lot of snapshots, or had quite
a few taken.  Jim had the sickening thought that maybe it was all part of Watson's
fetish for Blair's resemblance to his victims.  In all the photos he looked at, he
couldn't seem to find one in which Blair was smiling.  In some of the photos,
Blair's physical decline was brutally obvious.  

     Not all the photos included Blair.  There were a few of Vince with other
people, most of them looking like beefy wrestlers or body builder types, possibly
guys from the Rainier team.  One series of three photos caught his attention more
than the rest.  Vince was sitting around a picnic table with a bunch of other
people, mostly men but a few women, and in the background was an old
farmhouse.  He looked a little different, maybe younger, than he did in the later
photos with Blair.  

     Hating to make Blair look at the photos he'd just said he didn't want to see
again, Jim got up and approached him, resting a hand on his shoulder as he
handed him the stack of three photos. 

     "Do you know where this was taken and who these people were?" he
asked gently, rubbing Blair's shoulder a little.

     "I don't remember their names, but Vince said they were friends of his
from Tacoma.  The guy sitting next to him was his boyfriend at the time.  He used
to show it to me when he wanted to make the point that he'd always had better
looking boyfriends than me.  And of course, they were all better in bed."  Blair
handed Jim back the photos.

     "That's impossible."  Jim turned Blair's desk chair and crouched in front of
him.  "There aren't any guys out there like that."

     "You're biased, man."  Blair laughed softly, reaching out to stroke Jim's
hair.  "But I love you for it."

     "No names?"  Jim prodded.

     "Give it back to me."  Blair sighed, taking the photos and sorting through
them.  "Oh, man."  Blair covered his mouth with one hand.  "You're looking at the
farmhouse."

     "You got it in one, sweetheart.  That's the kind of house Annie saw in her
vision.  It's probably nothing, but if it belonged to one of those people, or was a
place they used to go..."

     "I think I asked him whose house it was once."  Blair stared at the photo,
his brown creased in concentration.  "Shit.  He told me, too."

     "Just relax, Chief.  If he told you, it'll come to you."

     "It's probably not there anymore.  They were going to tear it down because
the family was selling the property."  Blair tapped the photo with his finger.  "It
was her grandparents' old place," he said, pointing out one of the two girls in the
photo.  "I don't remember her name, Jim."

     "That's okay.  What else did he say about the house?  Anything?"

     "Not really.  Just that she had the picnic there for this group of people from
the gym where Vince did all his weight training...her boyfriend owned the gym. 
He said something about figuring the house was probably a bunch of overpriced
yuppie houses by the time he was showing me the photos."  Blair looked at Jim. 
"You think he might have killed Aaron Metzler there?"

     "Makes sense.  It's secluded, out in the country, vacant, and it's a place he
knew about.  He knew the history, the likelihood of anyone coming out there..."

     "If I could just remember the damn name."

     "You said her boyfriend owned the gym where Vince used to work out in
Tacoma.  That shouldn't be too hard to trace.  There can only be so many gyms in
Tacoma.  I'll call in and have Rafe get us a list.  He's on third shift, and he and
Brown were planning on catching up on paperwork tonight."

     "That explains why he kept these photos handy, then.  Every time he
looked at the house, he remembered what he did there."  Blair shuddered.  "Why
he showed them to me periodically."

     "And why Michael saw fit to knock over the carton," Jim added, picking
up the phone on Blair's desk and dialing the station.

********

     "Must be a lot of physically fit people in Tacoma," Rafe commented,
handing Jim the print out when Blair and he arrived at work the next morning. 
Just finishing his night shift, Rafe was putting his coat on to leave when they
walked into the bullpen.  

     "That's quite a list," Jim said, sighing.  "Thanks for running it, pal. 
Hopefully we'll get a lead from this."

     "The only lead you've got right now is that psychic, right?"  Rafe asked,
digging in his pocket for his car keys.  

     "That's about it," Blair responded.  "We're hoping to identify a house she
saw in her vision by finding someone associated with one of these gyms."

     "Good luck.  Hope it works."  Rafe headed for the door.  

     "Thanks.  Us, too," Blair called after him.  "Well?"

     "Why don't you look at the list and see if anything rings a bell, Chief?"

     "Okay."  Blair took the list and sat at the desk while Jim hung up their
coats and then sat next to him.  "I'm not positive, but I think it's one of these two." 
Blair used a highlighter to mark two entries on the list.  "I remember him talking
about the gym where he used to work out, and it was something with 'power' in
the title.  Powerhouse," he pointed to the one entry, "or Iron Power," he
concluded, tapping the second marked entry.  

     "Well, let's get on the phone then and see what we come up with."

     The first call to Powerhouse Fitness Center didn't yield anything.  The
manager was more than willing to check his records to see if Vince had ever been
a member, but he found nothing in his files.  The woman who answered the phone
at Iron Power Gym, and identified herself as the manager, fell deathly silent when
Watson's name was mentioned.

     "Vince Watson?  What is this about?"  she finally asked.

     "We're looking for information to assist in an ongoing investigation, and
we think Watson may have been acquainted with someone at your facility who
might be able to help us," Jim responded.

     "He's dead, isn't he?" 

     "Yes, ma'am, he is, but we think he may be linked to a missing persons
case, and since we can't ask him, we're attempting to contact people who might be
able to provide us with some key information."

     "I knew Vince.  He was friends with my husband and he used to be a
regular here several years ago, but I haven't seen him since he moved to Cascade."

     "Do you still own a rural piece of property with a farm house situated on
it?"  Jim asked.

     "Well, yes, I do.  Is that important?"

     "It could be.  Did you used to host picnics there that Vince might have
attended?"

     "Yes, a couple times, I think.  It's my grandparents' old place.  I was going
to sell it to a developer, but then my brother got married, and he and his wife were
interested in renting it from me...they're still living there.  How does the house
figure into things?"

     "We think he may have visited the house with a man who is currently
listed as a missing person."

     "You've got to believe me when I tell you we had no idea how weird he
was.  He seemed fine.  When I found out how he died and what he was into...it
gave me the creeps to think we hung out with him all that time."

     "Would it be possible for me to visit the house, possibly bring a couple
associates with me?"

     "I'm sure Tony my brother will cooperate.  I'm afraid there won't be much
there by way of evidence.  They've really gone over the old place and gutted the
inside, redecorated, landscaped...  My grandparents were very elderly and they
didn't do much with the place the last twenty or so years of their lives."

     "Were there any rooms in the house where the moldings around the door
were painted a darker color than the walls?"  Jim asked.  There was another dead
silence.

     "In all the upstairs bedrooms," she finally responded.  "Why?"

     "It's part of a witness' description.  That's really all I can say at the
moment."

     "Let me call Tony and Gretchen and let them know you want to come out. 
Can I call you back with a time?"

     "Sure."  Jim gave her the phone number.  "We really appreciate your
cooperation Mrs..."

     "Kessler.  Judy Kessler.  My husband's name is Kurt.  I'm sure he'll want to
be there for this, too, in case you have any questions for him."

     "I might.  I'll look forward to hearing from you."  Once Jim hung up the
phone, he looked at Blair.  "Sounds like we're onto something here.  All the
upstairs bedrooms had the darker moldings around the doors.  The old folks had
let it go for quite a few years, and then it was apparently vacant after they died,
based on what you said about her having picnics out there.  If it's farmland, there
are a lot of places to bury a body."

     "Too many places," Blair said, shuddering.  "You think we should call Ron
Pierce and see if he can get Annie to join us?"

     "Without a doubt."

********

     The visit to the farmhouse was scheduled for the next day, in the early
afternoon.  Ron Pierce and Annie Maxwell met them at the location Judy Kessler
had described in her directions.  It was a cold, sunny day, and the expanse of
countryside around the big old house made for a peaceful, pleasant setting.  Tony
and Gretchen Richards, Mrs. Kessler's brother and sister-in-law, greeted the group
and invited them in for coffee while they waited for the Kesslers to arrive.  Tony
was a man of average height and build with dark hair and small wire-rimmed
glasses.  He worked as a financial advisor in Tacoma, while Gretchen, a petite
blonde with long straight hair and a pretty smile, had put her career as a teacher on
hold to be a stay-at-home mom.  Their daughter, Christine, was six months old
and napping upstairs.  Blair couldn't help but wonder if it was in the same room
where Aaron Metzler spent his last horrifying moments.

     "Please don't take this the wrong way, but if we'd known this was some
kind of...'psychic vision' that brought you all out here, I don't think we'd have
agreed to having you go through the house," Tony said as the group sat in the
living room with their coffee.

     "Your sister would still have the right to authorize the visit, as she's the
property owner," Jim stated.  

     "Judy never went in for that kind of thing, either."

     "What can it hurt?"  Gretchen spoke up.  "Mrs. Maxwell, you think
something happened in our house, is that it?"

     "Something *did* happen in your house," she said flatly, looking
pointedly at the stairs.  Just then the doorbell rang, and Gretchen went to let in
Judy and Kurt Kessler.  Kurt was a big man with a build not unlike Jim's, with
blond hair and a mustache.  His wife, Judy, had her brother's coloring and long
hair drawn into a pony tail.  After introductions all around, Jim decided to get the
process in motion.

     "Now that everyone's here, any objections if we let Mrs. Maxwell walk
through the house?"

     "I suppose not," Judy said, looking at Tony, who shrugged with a little
smile.  "We're not big believers in the whole psychic phenomena thing, but go
ahead."

     With permission granted, Annie walked very purposefully toward the
stairs and started up to the second floor.  The rest of the group followed quietly
behind her.  The house was nicely decorated now, with carpeting on the floors,
fresh paint on the walls, and much of the original woodwork sanded down and
refinished to its original luster.  Whatever paint had adhered to the moldings
around doors was gone now, replaced with the elegance of the oak woodwork in
its natural form.

     Annie stopped in the middle of the narrow upstairs hall, then turned to
walk into one of the three bedrooms on that floor.  

     "She picked our bedroom," Gretchen whispered to Tony, who shrugged,
though he appeared a bit unnerved.  The little crowd gathered in the doorway of
the bedroom that was decorated in a cheerful country motif, with a colorful
patchwork quilt on the queen sized bed.  Annie, however, seemed more interested
in the area near the dresser, where she stood transfixed, as if watching something.

     "What used to be there before you moved in?"  Jim asked Tony, who
thought about the question for a moment.  

     "I don't think anything.  The house was pretty much empty when we
started working on it."

     "Grandma's old metal bed was there.  The mattress was shot, and nobody
wanted it for anything, so we just left it here," Judy said.  "It wasn't here when you
started cleaning the place out?" she asked her brother.

     "No.  There was some junk in some of the other rooms.  I think the old
headboard is in the attic, but there was no mattress."

     All of them froze when Annie let out a blood-curdling scream, backing
away from the dresser as if it were about to attack her.  Jim and Blair looked at
each other, then at Ron Pierce, who held up a forestalling hand.  

     The woman stopped in the middle of the room, shaking visibly, before
raising a hand to her throat.  

     "He wants him to scream and he can't," she half-sobbed.  "He has no voice
left," she gasped, just before falling to her knees, bracing herself from falling
completely by holding onto the foot of the bed.  

     Ron still motioned to the others to be quiet, keeping Jim from going to her
to help her stand.  She stayed crouched by the foot of the bed for several long
seconds before she raised her head a bit.

     "It's so quiet.  It's raining and all you can hear are the raindrops on the
roof...on the windows.  He's dead and it's so quiet.  Why is it always so quiet after
they die?"  She pushed herself up from the floor and stood, looking back toward
the bed.  "He buried the mattress with the body.  There was too much blood to
leave it here."

     "Annie, where did he bury the body?" Ron asked carefully, approaching
her now.  The rest of the group were silent, Tony, Gretchen, Kurt and Judy all
exchanging horrified looks.

     "It's dark, there's a door that blows with the wind...bangs when it hits the
door frame.  It's cold and wet with the rain...  There's something...a
tire...swinging..."  She gestured a little with one hand.  "That's all of it," she said,
turning to Ron.

     "You saw it?"  he asked.

     "Yes," she responded, nodding. 

     "Who did you see, Annie?"

     "The man you identified to me as Vincent Watson, and the other man you
identified for me as Aaron Metzler.  Vincent Watson killed Aaron Metzler on the
old bed that used to be where that dresser is."  She swallowed hard.  "He tortured
him until he lost his voice from screaming."

     "Do you think you can lead us to where he's buried?"  Ron asked.

     "Yes, I think so," she said, nodding.

     "Someone was murdered in here?"  Gretchen looked over at the dresser,
her eyes wide.  "My God."

     "Nothing's been proven yet, honey," Tony responded.  "Let's not jump to
conclusions."

     "I guess we'll know for sure if we find out where the body's buried," Kurt
said.  "I knew Vince was a little off, but I never realized he was a murderer."

     "How did you know he was 'a little off'?"  Jim asked.  

     "Because he had a sadistic streak in the gym," he replied.  "He'd get a guy
pinned, and he wasn't happy until he knew he'd hurt him.  Not just overpowered
him, because when you're practicing wrestling moves, that's the whole point.  But
with Vince, he wanted to know he left pain behind.  He was a fantastic wrestler,
and, you know, aside from being sort of an asshole to work out with, he seemed
like an okay guy.  I just figured he had a mean streak.  Guess it was a big one."

     "The biggest," Blair responded.

     A walk across the property, led by Annie, brought them to a barn that was
gray with the ravages of time, the structure leaning a bit sideways, the door
missing altogether, leaving about a ten foot opening in the side of it.  Not far from
the barn was a massive old tree.  From one of its gnarled, sturdy limbs hung an old
tire on a rope, swaying gently in the breeze.  Not far from the barn were the
remains of the door.

     "It, uh, banged all the time, so I took it off.  We were going to have this
torn down in the spring," Kurt explained.

     Annie walked through the opening into the shadows, followed closely by
Ron, Jim, Blair and the others.  It was obvious the old barn hadn't been used in
decades, with the remnants of hay and other debris strewn over its floor. 
Numerous boards were either rotted or missing, and Annie picked her way
carefully to a spot somewhere near the far west corner.

     "If they start digging here, they won't have to look far," she said.  Closing
her eyes and taking a deep breath, she moved a little to the left and tapped a
rotting board with her toe.  "He pulled this board up...he pulled up several, then
nailed them back down.  He took his time."

     "These nails are newer than the others," Jim said, crouching near where
she'd tapped her toe.  "Guess we better get the County Sheriff out here," Jim said,
standing.

********

     Three hours after Annie touched the spot on the barn floor with her toe,
the Tacoma County Medical Examiner was overseeing the removal from a
somewhat shallow grave of a skeleton and an old mattress, stiff with aged, brown
blood stains.  Annie was feeling very drained from her experience and asked Ron
to drive her home, leaving Tony, Gretchen, Judy and Kurt sitting around the
kitchen table drinking coffee while Jim and Blair hovered near the burial site.  

     As the remains were removed from their resting place, Jim watched Blair
with more concern than he did the grave.  They knew who dug the hole, who
killed the victim, who the victim was and how he got there.  There was very little
Jim would need to remember of the stiffened, brown-stained mattress or the
skeletal remains.  He knew he'd never forget the look on Blair's face.

     "That would've been me soon," Blair said quietly.

     "Don't do that to yourself, sweetheart," Jim responded, putting his arm
around Blair's shoulders.  He wasn't surprised when Blair leaned heavily into him. 
"It's not you, that's what matters."

     "It bothers you, though."

     "Yeah, it bothers me.  It bothers me you went through what you did, and it
bothers me how dangerously close you came to not surviving it.  But what matters
is that you did survive it.  Isn't that what you keep telling me when I get morose?"

     "Yeah, well, I say a lot of things.  Doesn't mean I can live by all of 'em,"
Blair admitted with a little grin.  

     "I gave the Sheriff the information on Metzler, and Ron and I filled him in
about Annie, so I don't think he'll need us for anything else here right now.  We'll
have to work together on putting the final touches on the homicide case. 
Hopefully they'll accept the fact it was Watson and not launch a full investigation,
but since the murder took place here, they have that option."  Jim sighed.  "I was
sort of surprised Ron and the folks at his PD were willing to close the books on
Danny that fast, but they do trust Annie and they had your statement about the
tape.  This is a little foggier."

     "We can go home, then?"

     "Let's say goodbye to Judy and her family.  We'll have to stop by the PD
and put some sort of preliminary report on Simon's desk, and then we'll head for
home.  Sound okay?"

     "The last part sounds great," Blair said, smiling tiredly.

********
     
     It was raining heavily by the time Jim and Blair finally made it home early
that evening.  Aaron Metzler's remains were identified via his dental records, and
family was being notified.  Given the rural location of the remains, the Sheriff,
State Police and local authorities were all bickering for jurisdiction.  Jim was
more than relieved to leave them to it.  It was the Cascade PD's missing persons
case, but it was a homicide case now, and the cops in the area where it happened
had more claim to it.

     "You want anything?  I'm making some tea," Blair said, hanging his coat
on one of the hooks near the back door.

     "Make enough hot water so I can have cocoa, huh?"  Jim asked, hanging
up his coat and heading for the den.  "You want me to call for pizza?"

     "That's fine.  You know the tea would relax you," Blair called back to him.

     "I'm plenty relaxed, Chief."  Jim smiled to himself, enjoying their
unending disagreement over food and beverages.  

     "You won't be after all that sugar hits your system from this cocoa mix. 
You could get by with sugar free, you know."

     "Sugar free, fat free, flavor free," Jim retorted, turning on the TV, leaving
the volume down while he dialed the number of the pizza place.  "I want to be
sure my cocoa's healthy before I eat the pizza."

     "If you'd order it like I tell you to, it *would* be healthy."

     "If I ordered it like you tell me to, I wouldn't eat it."

     Blair came into the room with two steaming mugs as Jim finished placing
the order.  After hanging up, he accepted his mug and ran his arm along the back
of the couch for Blair to scoot under, which he did happily.  There wasn't anything
on television except a lot of sitcoms and melodramas, so Jim succumbed to the
Discovery Channel special on grizzly bears.  With the rain beating on the roof,
something warm to drink, and Blair tucked against him, he couldn't think of a
better way to spend an evening.

     "The pizza guy said it could be as long as an hour.  I guess they're backed
up and with the heavy rains and all..."  

     "That's okay.  Give us a chance to unwind a little anyway."

     "You okay, Chief?  I know today was rough."

     "I'm okay.  I guess I just keep thinking about how long I kept all this
buried...man, bad choice of words."  Blair took another drink of his tea, and Jim
had to smile at the dark humor, and at the fact Blair could find it within himself to
make a little quip.  "In a way, it's a relief.  I understand now why I was so afraid of
him.  You know, Jim, before, it didn't make sense."  Blair straightened up and
turned on the couch to face Jim, who also shifted his position a bit.

     "The way he treated you and the threats he made were explanation enough,
sweetheart.  You did the best you could."

     "Yeah, I know, but I wouldn't have taken that lying down...oh, boy, this is
really the night for double entendre isn't it?"  Blair shook his head.  

     "I don't know, but if that's something you get naked for, count me in,"  Jim
teased, leaning forward and kissing Blair soundly.  

     "You're impossible."  Blair laughed, moving in to kiss Jim this time.  One
kiss turned into another, and before long, Blair was straddling Jim's lap with his
arms loosely around Jim's neck.

     "Did I ever tell you rain makes me horny?"

     "So does sun, fog, snow, and wind, if I recall correctly."

     "No, those are yours," Jim retorted, kissing Blair again and tugging at his
shirt, pulling it out of his jeans.

     "You know if we start this, the pizza guy may get here before we finish it."

     "By my calculations, we've still got about fifty minutes.  Besides, there's a
locked door between us and the outside world, remember?"

     "We'll give him a good tip if we make him wait."  Blair pounced on Jim
then, locking their mouths together and thrusting his groin against the bulge in
Jim's jeans.  They shifted positions and stretched out on the couch, Jim pulling
Blair on top of him, both of them awkwardly tugging at clothing, wrestling with it
until they were skin on skin, hard cocks rubbing together as their mouths eagerly
explored one another, hands roaming, fingers exciting nipples before moving
lower.

     "There's lube under the couch," Blair gasped, pushing himself up a bit and
moving so Jim's hardened cock was nudging the cheeks of Blair's ass.  Jim
groaned in pleasure as he rubbed himself between the slightly sweaty globes,
watching the strained look of pleasure on Blair's face as he squatted lower to open
himself for more stimulation.

     "Under the couch?"  Jim couldn't help but ask about that.

     "Just in case.  Last time...oh, yeah...."  Blair writhed with pleasure at a
particularly well-aimed rub of Jim's cock over his center.  "Last time, we had to go
all the way upstairs...right in the middle..."  he gasped between thrusts.

     "Got it."  Jim held up the tube.  "How do you want it, baby?"

     "God, this feels good."

     "If we don't stop, I'm not going to make it for the big event.  I'm getting
real close here."  Jim paused.  "Let's move.  I've got an idea."  Jim guided Blair off
him to lie on his back on the couch, encouraging him to draw his knees up to his
chest and spread his legs as much as the couch allowed.  Smearing a little gel on
his hand, Jim began rubbing up and down along the exposed crack, from Blair's
balls to his tailbone.  "Yeah, you like having your crack rubbed, don't you, baby?"

     "Oh, Jim...Oh, my God..."  Blair moaned and clutched at the cushions, his
cock coming to full hardness.  Though he was aching to plunge into the willing
hole his hand was passing over, he was enjoying the wanton display of raw
pleasure from Blair, and a part of him was enjoying even more just doing
something that drove Blair crazy with lust...something that was pleasuring only
Blair, something in which Blair could be completely selfish in his enjoyment.  He
teased and rubbed Blair's perineum, his fingers stroking against the back of Blair's
balls before rubbing his way back down again to the little pucker, which he finally
stopped to stimulate with his finger.  "Oh, man...please..."

     Jim slid his finger all the way into the passage, spreading the gel inside
Blair as he took the rigid cock in his mouth and sucked.  Blair shouted then, his
moans turning to cries of pleasure as he bore down on the probing finger and
thrust up into the hot mouth working his cock.  

     "Want you, lover.  In me, now," Blair gasped, looking up at Jim through
heavy-lidded, passion-fogged eyes.  

     "Your wish, sweetheart," Jim said after releasing the leaking cock from his
mouth.  He moved up and kissed Blair.  "I love you."  Blair smiled brightly then,
resting his hand on Jim's cheek.  

     "Love you, too."

     Jim found the lube and coated his hardness before nudging it against
Blair's exposed hole.  Then he pushed in slowly, letting Blair adjust to being
filled.  Before long, he was fully inside Blair.  It was Blair who moved first,
writhing almost impatiently on the hard cock inside him.  Jim began a steady
rhythm, thrusting firm and fast into the hot slickness surrounding him.  Jim was
moaning himself now, his voice mingling with Blair's as they settled into a steady
cadence, Blair pulling his knees back as far as he could to take Jim as deeply as
possible.  Jim's hand wrapped around Blair's cock, pumping it with a slick hand,
teasing the leaking head with his thumb.

     The rubbing of Jim's cock against his prostate and Jim's hand working his
shaft was more than Blair could stand.  He let out a long, loud shout as he came,
grabbing at Jim and the couch to brace himself against the wild wave of ecstasy
that was his orgasm.  Jim relished the flexing of those internal muscles around
him and drank in the display of Blair's climax.  He felt his own peak fast
approaching, and a moment later, was shouting Blair's name, filling him.

     Reluctantly, Jim withdrew from the tight heat, his cock slipping free of its
sheath.  He guided Blair's legs down to the couch, and hovered over him for a
long kiss.

     The doorbell rang.

     "Oh, man," Blair said, laughing.

     "I'll get it."  

     "If it's not the pizza guy, we're not home.  I mean it, Jim."  

     "Don't worry.  I'm gonna grab the pizza and slam the door."  Jim struggled
into his jeans, easing his softened cock in place as he zipped them carefully.  Then
he tossed on a shirt and swung by the kitchen to wash his hands before answering
the door.

     When he returned to the den, Blair was lying on his stomach on the couch,
still naked, his head resting on his folded arms.  

     "You want to eat right away?"  he asked, grinning wickedly.

     "What pizza?"  Jim set the box, easily forgotten, on the coffee table and
stripped off his shirt and jeans again.  Lowering himself carefully on top of Blair,
he nuzzled the warm neck and nosed the soft curls.  His cock nestled between firm
cheeks, he concentrated on kissing Blair's neck and then working gently on a
passion mark there. 

     "Maybe you *should* eat first," Blair teased.

     "Mmmm," Jim hummed against Blair's flesh, finally releasing it.  "I don't
want anything interfering with your taste in my mouth."  Blair flexed his ass
cheeks at that remark, and rubbed against Jim.  "Oh, man, do that again," Jim
groaned, sliding his cock along the slick crack, feeling the squeeze of muscles
along his length as Blair flexed his cheeks again.  

     "You getting ready for round two?"  Blair said, grinning and looking over
his shoulder at Jim.

     "We already did it that way once."

     "You're bored with it?"  Blair twitted, raising an eyebrow.

     "I don't want to make you sore, sweetheart."  Jim kissed Blair's cheek.

     "If I ever get sore with you, it's a good sore.  You *don't* hurt me, Jim.  If
I feel it tomorrow, it'll remind me of us making love.  Nothing bad.  I know you
wouldn't do anything really violent to me nothing that would injure me or cause
me pain.  That's what I keep trying to tell you, love.  I'm not afraid of you, and I
don't want you to be afraid of me, like I'm too fragile for us to have a good time in
bed.  If I don't like what's happening, I'll say so.  And you'll stop.  And that's why
anything we try is okay with me, because I know I always have a vote.  Okay?"

     "I'll work on it, cuddlebug."  Jim smiled, tugging the throw off the back of
the couch.  "I think my ass is turning blue."

     "I'm warm enough," Blair retorted, snuggling happily under his heavy
human blanket."

     "Relax, baby.  I want to take my time."

     "Sounds nice."  Blair sighed.  "Besides the fact we just came a little while
ago."

     "That, too."  

     Jim started kissing his way down Blair's back, using his lips and tongue to
taste his lover like a rare delicacy, moving along the smooth flesh completely
unhurried.  He returned to the warm place between Blair's neck and shoulder and
inhaled deeply.  Blair groaned beneath him, knowing just what Jim was
doing...filling every sense with him as gentle hands skimmed along his arms and
into his hair.  Scent, Taste, Touch, Sound and Sight.  

     Grabbing the lube, Jim added some to his now rigid shaft.  He squeezed a
bit on his finger and used it to coat and stretch Blair, though he seemed more than
eager to get on to the main event and still relaxed from their first round of
lovemaking.  
     
     "Mmmm...  That feels good," Blair sighed, wriggling his ass as Jim's
finger moved languidly inside it.  Blair moved up on his knees and braced his
hands on the arm of the couch.  Jim took a moment to appreciate the sight before
sliding his slick cock into the welcoming heat of Blair's body.  

     "C'mere, sweetheart," Jim said, wrapping his arms around Blair and
pulling him back so he was impaled on Jim's lap.

     "Oh, shit."  One of Blair's legs shot out to find support and found it had
run out of couch.  Laughing, Jim caught him before he fell, and with some
struggling, ended up sitting on the throw, feet on the floor, still joined to Blair,
who now sat more securely on his lap.  Everything seemed fine until Blair started
laughing.  Hard.

     "Sandburg, knock it off," Jim warned, vowing he would *not* come
because Blair's laughter was vibrating his cock like some sort of giant, hot, human
sex toy.

     "Sorry."  Blair stilled a moment, and then was laughing gain.  "I can't help
it."

     "I am *not* coming while you're sitting there laughing," Jim said, starting
to laugh himself now.

     "Why not?  Sounds like a new chapter for 'The Joy of Gay Sex'."

     "Simon would be thrilled we got published there," Jim said, laughing
harder.

     "Oh, God, Jim, do something," Blair said, still laughing, but wriggling in
Jim's lap at the same time.  

     "I'm working on it, Chief.  Why don't you do something?"

     "Oh, right, sure.  Like this?"  Blair grabbed the arm of the couch for
leverage and began moving himself up and down on the hard cock inside him.

     "Oh, shit...Ahhh," Jim gasped, leaning his head back on the couch.  

     "I'll take that...as a...yes," Blair managed between thrusts.  

     Jim started thrusting up to meet him, relishing the sight of his cock sliding
in and out of Blair's body, and Blair writhing shamelessly in his lap.  It occurred to
some small part of his brain that still retained any ability to think that they'd never
done it exactly this way before.  It definitely put more of a burden of action on
Blair, but he didn't seem to mind a bit.

     Belatedly, he thought to reach around front and start stroking Blair's cock,
his other hand on Blair's hip, enjoying feeling the frantic motion there.  He felt his
climax coming, and knew it would be any moment when Blair screamed out Jim's
name and came, his seed bathing Jim's pumping hand.  When Jim came, it was
with a few quick thrusts into the now pliant body in his lap that seemed to have
lost its bone structure.

     He steadied Blair as he stood a little shakily, then turned and climbed onto
Jim's lap, facing him.  They kissed deeply, Jim wrapping his arms around Blair
and kissing his lips, face, neck and back again, enjoying the sensation of the
warm, sweaty ass and thighs that rested on his lap and the lax, sticky groin that
nestled against his own.  

     "That was..."  

     "Mind-blowing?"  Blair supplied.

     "Yeah," Jim agreed, grinning and hugging him close.  "I love you," he
whispered into the now disheveled curls.  

     "I know.  I love you, too."  Blair hugged back with enthusiasm.  "It's so
good to be alive."

     It was a strange remark, but it had been said with sincerity and joy.  Blair
pulled back and looked Jim in the eyes.

     "I'm so glad I lived, Jim.  After what we've seen in the last few weeks
about Vince, and then with Alan's case...life is such a gift.  I'm so grateful to have
been given that gift against all the odds, and then...and then to get you, too. 
Because the gift of life wouldn't mean anything to me without you to share it."

     "For me, either, sweetheart.  Every time I look at you, it's all I can do not
to grab you and hold you...and thank God I have you."

     "Any time you want to grab me and hold me, it's okay with me."  Blair
smiled and hugged Jim again, and Jim returned the pressure.

     "I'll keep that in mind," Jim said before kissing Blair again.

********

     Blair walked into the Cascade Country Club with a small leather portfolio
tucked under his arm, wearing a brown tweed sport coat and a tan shirt with dark
brown pants.  His hair hung loose on his shoulders, his glasses in place.  He was
supposed to meet with Bill, Anderson Riley and Ethan Whitney to discuss a draft
of his written proposal.  He'd spent a long time ferreting through the closet for
something appropriate, and had felt the same unease about entering the exclusive
club he had the first time.  Jim, who had been getting dressed to go into the PD,
finally took a hold of Blair's shoulders, looked him right in the eye, and said,
"Wear whatever you want, Chief.  Be yourself, because you're perfect, and there's
no way to improve on that."                                 
               
     After taking a few moments out to express his gratitude for that lovely
emotion, they were both running late as they threw on the first clothes they could
reach, ran for their respective vehicles and headed into town for their day's
business.

     Oddly enough, those words from Jim *did* bolster him to the point that he
didn't care if he got strange looks for his long hair or his borderline casual attire. 
This was who he was, what he looked like, and if the people he was meeting with
didn't approve, they might as well decide that now.

     Dressed in another of his expensive, impeccably tailored business suits,
Bill rose and motioned to Blair from a table not far from the one they'd occupied
at their first meeting.  

     "I hope I'm not late," Blair said, smiling and shaking hands with all three
men before taking his seat.  

     "We were early," Ethan responded, jangling the ice cubes in his empty
glass.  It was obvious a couple of cocktails had passed before his arrival.  Bill had
been doing his homework.

     "I have a copy "

     "What are you drinking, Blair?"  Bill said, flagging down the waitress. 
Noticing Bill's wine glass, Blair opted for that, since he wasn't a huge fan of
mixed drinks.

     "Wine would be great.  Which one do you recommend?"  he asked Bill.

     "They're featuring an outstanding white zinfandel," Bill said, as the
waitress arrived at the table.     

     "I'll try that," Blair agreed, and she left with a nod and a smile.  

     "Okay, Blair, you have the draft for us?"  Bill prompted.

     "Yes, I do.  I've included quite a few statistics, some of which we
discussed when we talked previously."  Blair distributed the three copies.  "I also
included a case study of the homicide case Jim spoke of."

     "This appears very thorough, Blair.  I wouldn't expect much less from a
Ph.D.," Anderson said, paging through it.  "I think I speak for the three of us when
I say that we wholeheartedly support your proposal."

     "That's wonderful news," Blair said, trying not to sound as stunned as he
was.  The waitress delivered his wine, but he barely noticed.  "I must say I'm a
little surprised."

     "Well, I'll tell you what turned the tide for me, Blair," Anderson continued. 
"When we raised objections to you, some of them not in the most politically
correct terms, you kept your cool.  You didn't preach. You educated us.  You had
facts, you had numbers, and you had the patience to present it to what you felt was
a hostile audience.  You also found a way to relate the whole situation to me in a
way I would have never expected."

     "I did?"

     "Not that that is the case in my particular situation, but my first wife died
many years ago, and I just married a lovely woman who is twenty-five years
younger than I am, and has two grown sons.  Now, they're wonderful people, all of
them, and in no way does what you said about younger wives going after their
older husbands fit them, but the point is, you showed me a scenario that could
happen to someone like me.  To people I know.  Hell, maybe it *is* happening to
people I know."

     "That's why we're supporting funding your program with a $500,000 grant,
with 75% of that budget to be used for public service announcements and other
community awareness programs," Ethan said.  "We know you need some practical
money to pay some bills, but we believe educating the public is crucial to what
you're trying to accomplish."

     "And it's obvious you have the ability to educate any audience on the
subject, Blair," Bill spoke up.  "I've always had every confidence in what you were
trying to do here, but I wasn't sure if you would be able to take on these two
characters, but you did," he said, gesturing at his companions, who both chortled a
bit.

     "I don't know what to say.  You can't know..."  Blair stopped and
swallowed, closing his eyes briefly.  "You can't know what this means to me.  To
know what can be accomplished thanks to this grant."

     "I think we know, Blair," Bill said, smiling with all the affection of a
proud father.

     "The grant's not official yet.  We still have to run it by the full board,"
Ethan clarified.  "But if we're in support of it, I don't anticipate any obstacles with
the rest of the membership."

     "Let's go over this draft now and be sure we don't need to tweak anything
before taking it to the board," Anderson suggested.  With that, the three men
began actively discussing the proposal, and retooling it a bit to emphasize the
public awareness an education angle.  Blair could barely keep from grinning like
an idiot.  It didn't seem possible that his life could be going this well.  That he
could be this lucky.  But he was.  And he couldn't wait to find Jim and share the
news with him.

     After their luncheon meeting, which actually turned into a fairly pleasant
and relaxing conversation once the proposal had been reviewed, Bill walked with
Blair to his car, having said his good byes to his two cohorts from the Foundation.

     "I don't think I can ever thank you enough for this," Blair said, shaking his
head.  "I know they wouldn't have given me the time of day without your input."

     "If I didn't think what you were doing was worthwhile, and good for the
community, I would have never supported it with the board."

     "I know, but...I know that it's not always easy for you...with Jim and me,
and explaining that to your friends..."

     "I was afraid of what people would think when Jimmy was a child.  A lot
of it was that I was afraid for him.  I know I wasn't Ward Cleaver by any stretch of
the imagination, but I always loved the boys, and I wanted them safe, and I didn't
think Jimmy would be safe if people knew what he could do.  I still don't think so. 
I wish I'd handled it better, though.  All that aside, there was part of me that also
was worried what people were going to think.  I've worried my whole life about
appearances.  I've danced to the tune of people like Anderson Riley and Ethan
Whitney all my life until one morning I woke up and I was one of them."

     "You're not one of them, Dad.  Maybe you were, but not anymore."

     "I almost lost Jimmy once, and I'm not about to lose him again because of
what some other old stuffed shirt thinks about his lifestyle.  And I consider you
part of our family now, Blair, and I don't take that lightly.  Even if they didn't
believe it, and even if I didn't always make the right choices, my family has
always been the most important thing to me.  There were probably plenty of times
*I* lost sight of that.  The point is, you and Jim and Steven and I are family.  I'm
not going to lose sight of what that means again."

     "I know it means a lot to Jim that you guys are back on good terms again. 
He really does love you."

     "I know he does.  Or he wouldn't have been willing to reconcile things like
this.  Now go tell Jimmy your good news."  Bill smiled at Blair's delighted
expression.  He was more than stunned with Blair hugged him quickly.

     "Thanks, Dad.  For everything."  
          
     "That's what family's for."

     "That and celebration dinners.  You free to come over tonight?  We'll
make something good."

     "Sounds great."

     "See you at dinner tonight, Dad."  Blair tried to stifle his grin of unbridled
excitement over the impending grant, mostly unsuccessfully.  Now all he wanted
to do was tell Jim.

********

     "Son of a bitch."

     "Impossible.  These damn things don't have mothers," Simon grumbled in
response to Jim's unsavory remark to the computer.  Sitting at Simon's desk, Jim
was trying to navigate the software upgrade recently made to the police database
system.  Simon had given up on it after trying unsuccessfully for a half hour to get
a rap sheet to print out correctly.

     "Sandburg was right," Jim said, punching a few more keys angrily.

     "About?"

     "They dummied it up."

     "Meaning?"

     "Some software programs, when they upgrade, try to make it more 'user-
friendly'," Jim explained, the last words tinged with heavy sarcasm.  "The only
users it's friendly to are those who are too fucking stupid to operate a computer
and need every single command spelled out for them with little click-boxes.  Like
this one," Jim added, gesturing at the machine before clicking the offending
graphic.  The printer started up, and both men hovered over it like expectant
housewives over a rising souffle.  Simon yanked the paper off the machine first.

     "Son of a bitch," he grumbled.

     "Impossible, remember?"  Jim snatched the paper and then rolled his eyes,
tossing it in the recycle bin.

     "That's confidential stuff, Jim."

     "We've just about filled that box.  We'll just have somebody shred the
whole thing."

     "Rhonda's on sick leave, remember?"

     "That's why I became a cop.  To shred paper."  Just as he was about to
have another go at the software, Blair burst through the door.

     "You never learn about knocking, do you, Sandburg?"  Simon grumbled,
taking his anger at the computer out on Blair.  Nonetheless, Blair didn't seem
remotely fazed by it.  

     "I got it," he said, just about vibrating where he stood until Jim got up and
walked around the desk, eyes widening.  He'd known Blair was meeting with Bill
and his friends from the Foundation.

     "What did you get?" he asked carefully.

     "Just $500,000," Blair said shrugging.

     "All right!"  Jim grabbed him up in a hug, lifting him off the floor and
spinning at least twice before letting out another whoop of joy, which Blair
echoed.  

     "They want me to use 75% of it for public education and awareness, but
that means we have $125,000 to pay some bills right now...well, right after the full
board approves it, but if those guys are for it, we've got it."  Blair smiled.  Though
Jim had stopped spinning, he was still holding Blair in a tight hug, not letting his
feet touch the floor.  "Uh, Jim, I think you should probably put me down now."

     "Oh, right, sorry."

     "Congratulations, Blair," Simon said, shaking hands with Blair once he
had both feet on the floor again.

     "I can't believe this.  I don't think it's really sunken in yet," Blair said,
moving about the office as if the floor were electrified.  "I know we've got a
mountain of bills.  So I'm gonna let you handle where that money goes," he
directed to Jim.  "But then I've gotta figure out how to use the rest of the money
wisely.  You know, maximum bang for the buck?  College newspapers are good
for that. They reach a lot of young people but the advertising is pretty cheap.  And
then there are TV ads.  You think we could get some celebrity to help us out for
free?"

     "I think we probably could, Chief," Jim agreed, smiling and relishing
watching Blair fly around the office in a state of hyper excitement.

     "When you two are done celebrating, maybe someone can tell me how to
run a report off here."

     "Oh, yeah, you just have to go into 'user options' and change your printer
settings."  Blair sat at Simon's computer and performed the function he described,
then hit the "print" command.  This time, three heads hovered over the printer. 
The same, incorrectly formatted report was produced.  "Son of a bitch," Blair
muttered.

     "We covered that already," Jim said, crossing his arms over his chest.  

     "You probably need a new printer, Simon."  Blair went about trying
several more things, none of which were successful.

     "So when the brass authorized the software upgrade "

     "Somebody didn't research the hardware upgrades you were gonna need.  I
can talk to Cheryl in Tech Support, but I'm willing to be that's what's wrong."

     "Maybe you can pull some strings for us and get us a grant for new
equipment," Simon teased.  Blair smiled despite the fact he was making no
headway with the obstinate program.  

     "This is newer than the printer in the DVU," Blair said pointedly.

     "He never quits, does he?"  Simon responded, exasperated but laughing.

     "No, he never does," Jim said affectionately, obvious pride in his voice.

********

     Blair packed the last of his things in the duffle bag and zipped it,
wondering which thing he had forgotten that he'd need immediately after arriving. 
Jim came across the hall from the bathroom and handed Blair his shaving kit
before stuffing his own into his duffle bag.

     "I knew I forgot something."  Blair paused.  "You know, it would be a lot
easier for me to pack if I knew where we were going."

     "I told you what you needed to know, Chief.  I think you'll approve."

     "I'm surprised you're still willing to chance it after the way I messed up the
last vacation," Blair said, a smile in his voice.  Jim moved up behind him,
wrapping his arms around Blair.

     "You didn't mess up anything, sweetheart.  It wasn't your fault."

     "You're too good to be true, man," Blair responded, grinning and leaning
back into Jim's warmth.  "I love you."

     "Ditto, Chief."  Jim kissed his cheek.  "Now we better get a move on. 
Check in time is 3:00, and we've got a bit of a drive."

     "So we're staying in a hotel."

     "What'd you think?  We were pitching a tent by the side of the road?"

     "It's not much of a clue, but you gotta be happy with what you get."

     Blair was stunned to find himself at the airport, hurrying with Jim to board
a private jet, which flew them in style toward their destination, which Jim still
wouldn't reveal.  The flight was pleasant and relaxing, the two men talking about
their plans to open the shelter in two weeks, and throwing some ideas around for
the launch of the education phase of the program, which had the bulk of the grant
funds behind it.  Blair had discovered one of his clients at the DVU was a public
relations specialist, and in gratitude for the help she had received, she agreed to
join the advisory committee Blair was forming.  

     It was just a little past three when their flight landed at an airport flanked
by palm trees and bathed in sunshine.  

     "What is this place?"  Blair asked. 

     "Welcome to Waikiki, Chief," Jim said, grinning.  "Although I daresay the
ladies with the leis will make it official."

     "Waikiki?!"  Blair's eyes bugged.

     "I mentioned in passing to Dad that I wanted to take you somewhere nice
for the weekend, and he arranged for the flight and tipped me off where to make
the best reservations.  We've got the honeymoon suite in one of the best resorts on
the island."

     "We can't afford this, Jim."

     "No, you're right, but Dad can, and he wanted to do it.  I put up a good
fight, but he kept insisting.  He told me I should tell you it was an early Hanukkah
and Christmas present, and if you turned it down, he'd be insulted."

     "Well, I guess we can't insult your dad, can we?"  Blair said, grinning.  As
they disembarked the plane, Blair couldn't resist adding, "I was hoping to get lei'd
in the first five minutes of this vacation."

     A chauffered limousine picked them up at the airport and carried them
toward their hotel.  
               
     "You could've told me to dress lighter," Blair complained, wriggling out of
his flannel shirt, leaving him wearing a blue henley and jeans.  Jim laughed softly. 
He'd carried the masquerade through perfectly himself, and now held his coat in
his lap, still dressed in a sweater and jeans.

     "But you're surprised, right?"

     "Yeah, I'm surprised all right," Blair conceded, grinning broadly.  "I don't
have any clothes to wear here."

     "I brought some stuff for us in my bag.  Besides, what makes you think
you'll need clothes on this trip?"

     "If my luck holds out, I won't," Blair agreed, sliding his hand into Jim's,
their fingers twining together.  
               
     The limousine followed a winding drive flanked by flowering tropical
plants until it stopped in front of what appeared to be a huge mansion.  The only
thing marking it as anything by a private residence were a few guests following
porters carrying their luggage to another waiting limo ahead of them.  The glass
that had separated them from the driver now lowered.

     "If you would care to wait in the car, I'll arrange a porter for your bags,
gentlemen," the young man said. 

     "That would be fine," Jim responded as the glass went back up again with
a touch of a button from the chauffeur.  

     "Wow," Blair looked out the window, craning his neck to get the full view
of the resort.

     "Pretty nice place, I'd say," Jim said, nodding approvingly.

     "*Pretty nice place*?  Jim, this is *paradise* here!"

     "Uh-uh."  Jim slid over in the seat, pulling Blair into his arms and kissing
him thoroughly.  Resting his forehead against Blair's, he said, "*This* is paradise.
*That's* a nice resort."  Moved deeply by that sentiment, Blair kissed Jim this
time, then wrapped his arms tightly around him.

     "You always make me feel so special," Blair whispered.

     "Good.  You deserve to feel that way, sweetheart.  You're one of a kind."

     The sound of the car door opening startled them, and Blair got out first,
Jim close behind him.  The chauffeur closed the car door, and a porter, dressed in
white cotton pants and a tropical print shirt carried their bags toward the resort.  

     The lobby was a large, elegant area awash in pale shades of white, cream
and beige, accented with a number of beautiful tropical plants and potted palms. 
Ceiling fans turned lazily above them, though the hotel's air conditioning seemed
to have the climate well under control.  

     "Ah, yes, Mr. Ellison," the desk clerk greeted, smiling.  "And Mr.
Sandburg.  You have our master suite on the second floor."  A native of the island
in his twenties, he was dressed in a similar attire as the porter who was waiting by
the elevator with their bags.  He handed Jim their room keys.  "If you need
anything, just call the desk, twenty four hours a day.  There is a lovely buffet
being served in the dining room tonight beginning at six, and our kitchen is open
until ten o'clock for room service orders."

     "Thank you."  Jim took the keys, and then joined the porter who rode with
them in the elevator to the second floor.  He led the way down the wide hallway to
a pair of double doors at the end of it.  

     "This is a very lovely suite.  I'm sure you'll enjoy your stay," he said,
taking the key from Jim and unlocking the door.  As the two men walked inside,
he followed with their bags, setting them near the door.  "The bedroom and
adjoining bath is through that door right there, and the lanai is outside the glass
doors.  If there is anything we can do to make your stay more pleasant, please let
us know."

     "Thanks.  I'm sure we'll be fine," Jim said, smiling.  He took handed the
man a tip and closed the door behind him.  

     "Oh, man, Jim, this is gorgeous."  Blair wandered a bit further into the
room, admiring the view before them.  The main room was a large and flooded
with natural light from the wall of windows that overlooked their own private
lanai.  The ceiling was high and beamed with wood accents.  Triangular windows
topped the full length widows, giving a panoramic view of the lush tropical forest
behind the resort.  A grouping of overstuffed furniture in shades of beige and
green faced the windows.  The light green carpeting on the floor and the various
potted plants around the room continued the motif.  A small kitchenette and snack
bar as well as a glass table with chairs for more formal dining completed the
amenities.  

     "Think we ought to investigate the bedroom?"  Jim suggested, making
note of the bottle of champagne and basket of fresh fruit on the snack bar.  

     "Yeah, but I want to see that view first."  Blair made a beeline for the
lanai, opening the glass doors and stepping outside.  Given the design of the
building and the growth of the plants and trees, the beautiful balcony was
completely private.  

     "You look way too warm in all those clothes, Chief," Jim teased, tugging
at the shirt tucked into Blair's jeans.  

     "We *are* in a tropical paradise."

     "In the honeymoon suite, no less."

     "The guy at the desk called in the 'master suite'."

     "Maybe he wasn't sure if he should tell us we had the honeymoon suite.  I
mean, picture two swinging bachelors booking the best suite in the resort and
finding out they had the honeymoon suite."

     "Yeah, that could be awkward," Blair admitted, grinning as Jim pulled the
shirt over his head.  The sunshine felt good on his skin, and he hastily divested
Jim of his sweater so he could share in the sensation.  Soon they shed their jeans
as well, toeing off shoes and removing socks.  Clad in nothing but boxers, they
moved to the railing to look out at the gorgeous view.  Jim moved behind Blair,
holding the warm body close, nuzzling Blair's neck.  

     "Now can we check out the bedroom?"  he asked hopefully.  Blair
laughed.  

     "We can, if you're too uptight to do it out here."  Blair moved out of his
grip, approaching a chaise lounger.  

     "Too uptight, huh?"  Jim advanced on Blair, grabbing him in a passionate
embrace and kissing him fiercely.  

     "Maybe you're not too uptight," Blair conceded, grinning and pulling Jim
back toward the lounger.  Jim slipped off his boxers and tossed them to join the
pile of clothing, then stretched out in the chair.  Blair did the same and straddled
him, leaning forward to share hungry kisses as their cocks rubbed against each
other.  "Let's do it, lover.  Right here, right now."

     "I don't have any stuff, baby," Jim said, massaging two hands full of Blair's
ass.  

     "I'll get it."  Blair kissed him again and fled back into the room, returning
quickly with the lube.  He straddled Jim again and leaned in for another kiss.  

     Jim tugged at the tie holding Blair's hair in its loose pony tail, sending the
curls down to Blair's shoulders, blowing in the soft, warm breeze.  He dropped the
lube near the chair, burying both hands in Blair's hair and holding him still to
explore his mouth.  He kissed Blair's chin, his neck, and moved down to his chest,
licking and sucking at Blair's nipples until Blair moved his hands from Jim's
shoulders and gripped the framework of the chair to avoid leaving bruises.

     He groped for the lube again, finding it and flipping it open with one hand. 
He squeezed out some of the gel and then probed between the warm globes of
Blair's ass, which was writhing in his lap as Blair rubbed against him.  He slid two
fingers inside gently, rubbing and massaging the snug passage, seeking...  Blair let
out a shout of pleasure, jolting as Jim's finger rubbed over his prostate.  He
repeated the gesture, loving to watch Blair's sun-warmed body jolt with pleasure,
the little cries of ecstasy pulled from the pit of his soul.  

     Jim managed to coat his length and Blair eagerly lowered himself onto it. 
Jim held him and kissed him, devouring his mouth as Blair adjusted to Jim inside
his body.  Blair broke their kiss with a gasp that was both pleasure and need,
beginning to writhe on the cock that impaled him.  Jim happily obliged and began
thrusting gently, in no hurry to complete this coupling.  They were on vacation
with nothing to do but enjoy themselves, and right now, he was most enthralled
with watching Blair undulating over him, eyes almost closed, full, well-kissed lips
parted in pleasure, long hair swaying in time with their thrusts.  The intoxicating
blend of Blair's arousal and the tropical flowers in the gardens below teased and
caresses his sense of smell.  

     He ran his hands up and down Blair's sides, Blair's own hands braced on
Jim's arms.  

     "Oh, yeah, Jim, right there," Blair groaned as Jim angled his strokes to rub
over Blair's little pleasure button.  Blair was crying out now, unmistakable shouts
of pleasure thrown to the skies.  Jim could no longer resist that mouth and
captured it again, sliding his tongue in and out of Blair's mouth in time with their
sex.  He had to break the kiss this time for his own shout of pleasure.  Blair was
coming now, his internal muscles squeezing and milking Jim as he gave in to his
own climax.  

     Sated and languid, Blair let Jim slip free of his body and then lay beside
him in the chair, snuggled in Jim's arms.  Jim picked up the lube from where it
hand landed near the chair. 

     "Come on, sweetheart.  Let's check out that bedroom now," Jim suggested. 
He stood, and before Blair could stand, gathered him in his arms and carried him
inside, heading for the door that led to the bedroom.  

     The king sized bed was made with luxurious white linens and was turned
back. //Yes, this is definitely the honeymoon suite,// Jim thought, smiling as he
deposited Blair among the soft bedding and then climbed in with him, pulling him
close for more kisses and caresses.  This room had another wall of windows with
a similar view as seen from the main room, and the big bed shared the space with
a couple of overstuffed chairs, and a dresser.

     The bed was comfortable, and there was no denying they were pleasantly
drowsy.  They dozed for a while before Blair stirred and slipped a hand down to
gently pump Jim's semi-hard cock.  

     "Mmm."  Jim shifted and parted his legs a little more, happy to give Blair
full access to his most sensitive areas.  A hot tongue moved over his chest now,
intermingled with the attentions of those soft, full lips.  As Blair's mouth fastened
on a hardening nipple, Jim arched into the sensation and gasped Blair's name,
sliding his fingers into the long curls.  

     "Want to be inside you, lover," Blair whispered hotly against his ear.

     "Oh, yeah," Jim agreed, finding the lube somewhere among the sheets and
handing it to Blair.  He moved up on all fours, the thought of Blair buried to the
hilt inside him and pumping hard having an undeniable appeal.  He could hear
Blair now, opening the lube, moving up behind him.

     "God, Jim, you're so incredible," Blair said, sliding a greased finger inside
him, moving it assertively but gently, stretching and probing.  "Do you know how
amazing the muscles in your back are when they're tensing and untensing like
that?  When you're getting turned on?"  Blair's voice was low and husky now, and
the risque words were almost as arousing as the motion of Blair's finger.

     Almost.

     Blair progressed to a second finger, carefully stretching as he reached
under Jim to fondle the heavy balls there, moving from them to the erect cock that
surged even more at his attentions.  Blair finally rewarded him with a firm stroke
over his prostate, which caused Jim to cry out and grab the headboard of the bed,
bracing himself and thrusting back on Blair's impaling fingers.  

     "Oh, yeah, baby, that's the spot," he groaned, thrusting back again to
encourage a repeat of the motion.

     "Next time it'll be my cock in there, Jim.  I'm gonna rub that little pleasure
button until you don't know your name," Blair added, a definite leer in his voice. 
Blair withdrew his fingers and massaged the cheeks of Jim's ass, lifting and
parting them, licking over the little opening there and blowing on it.  

     "Oh, God," Jim gasped, spreading his legs and thrusting his ass out further,
shamelessly seeking more sensation.  He felt the blunt, slick tip of Blair's cock
against his center, and a moment later, it slid inside, slowly but undeniably
stretching him and filling him.  Then he felt more movement and realized Blair
was on his feet on the mattress as he sank deeper into Jim.  

     Letting go of the headboard, he rested his head on his arms, his ass up as
high as possible and taking Blair in deep.  When the pumping began, Blair made
good on his word to nail Jim's prostate on most of his strokes.  The pace was a
little harder and faster than what Jim was used to on the receiving end, but the
constant stimulation and the rocking of the bed and the slight creak of protest
from the springs was driving him wild.  

     "Yeah...yeah...oh, God, Blair...ahhh...yeah..."  Jim knew he was babbling,
needing to voice all of it somehow as Blair slid in and out, pumped up and down,
his hands bracing on Jim's back as he changed angles a bit and put even more hip
motion into deepening the strokes.  Jim clutched the bedding with both hands,
shouting now, reveling in his first taste of being well and thoroughly nailed to the
mattress.  They didn't do it this way as often, and Blair always was very gentle,
almost tentative about it.  Jim appreciated that, but this wilder ride was a whole
new world of sensation, and he liked what he was feeling.  

     Blair was moaning and shouting with him now, his strokes rapid and deep. 
Jim felt his climax building, and a particularly well-aimed stroke of his prostate
drew a cry from the depths of his being as he came, thrusting unevenly back to
meet Blair's strokes, his cock pulsing and spurting as if he hadn't just come inside
Blair out on the lanai.  Blair came inside him with a few shouts of pleasure, and
Jim dialed up his senses to feel the flood of Blair's juices inside his body, savoring
the moment.

     He slumped on the mattress and Blair came down with him, the two men
lying there, panting, in a heap of exhausted, damp flesh.

     "Wow," was all Jim could manage.  

     "Oh, man," was Blair's equally inspired response, before he moved slowly
off Jim, who expended enough energy to move over and rest his head on Blair's
chest.  A lazy hand came up and stroked his hair.  

     "You think we used it all up this afternoon?"  Jim asked, yawning.

     "Give us lots of time to spend on the beach, wouldn't it?"  Blair responded,
chuckling a little.  "Are you okay?  I mean, I didn't exactly pull my punches."

     "I'm fine, sweetheart.  I won't be able to walk until we go home, but no
harm done," Jim teased, and was relieved to hear Blair laugh.  "Remember what
you keep telling me?  Do what you feel and quit worrying?  I'll let you know if I
don't like it, Chief.  I'm not that shy."

     "Must be something in the tropical plants making us this horny."

     "We're always this horny.  We just don't ordinarily have this much time to
indulge in it."

     "You've got a point there."  Blair smiled.  "Probably a good thing.  We'd
wear out the equipment."

********

     The two men slept quite soundly until Jim stirred, noticing that it was
already dark outside.  His stomach rumbling ominously, he checked the clock and
was relieved to see it was only nine o'clock and the kitchen would still be open for
room service.  He reached over to the nightstand and found a menu, his movement
away from Blair drawing nothing more than a groan as the other man rolled over
and snuggled into the soft bedding.  

     Jim ordered them each a meal of chicken and vegetable fettuccini, figuring
that wouldn't draw any objections from his now slumbering partner.  The phone
call was enough to disturb Blair, who rolled over and looked at Jim with total
confusion on his face.  His hair hung in his eyes, and he looked like he'd been
asleep for a week.  

     "What's going on?"

     "I just ordered us dinner," Jim explained.  "Room service," he added when
that didn't seem to register.

     "Oh, right."  Blair sat up and happily scooted under the arm Jim held out
for him.  Propped against the headboard with a couple pillows, Jim was more than
happy to serve as the pillow for Blair.  "Man, I was wiped out," Blair admitted,
letting his eyes drift shut again.  

     "You've been under a lot of pressure lately."

     "Unlike you, who have been just sort of hanging out."  Blair smiled.  "I
know juggling the new mortgage with our usual bills is no picnic."

     "The grant will pay off a lot of the debt, Chief.  We're fine."

     "I'm glad you're the household accountant, man.  I wouldn't want that job
for anything."

     "It's under control."  Jim kissed the top of his head.  

     "I'm really excited about the shelter.  About opening it up officially.  I
know we'll probably do all that and nobody much will show up for a while, but it's
still exciting."

     "I think we'll get clients pretty fast.  Think about it, Chief.  These guys
aren't coming forward because there's nowhere to go.  They're not going to want to
go to a women's shelter.  This is a man's shelter.  No frilly curtains or...woman
things around."

     "Testosterone House," Blair quipped, snorting.

     "Something like that."

     "Not all women's shelters have frilly curtains."

     "No, but they're for women.  I know you have all these statistics on men
who don't report abuse, but I've gotta tell you, if I had to go stay in a women's
shelter, I wouldn't bother reporting it either.  I'd feel ridiculous."

     "Plus, your male peers would make you feel ridiculous anyway."

     "That, too."  Jim yawned and ran his hand languidly up and down Blair's
arm.  "I never thought about what I would've done if Carolyn had been a
physically aggressive person.  Probably nothing.  I wouldn't have hit her.  I don't
know if I would have filed for divorce first.  Maybe."

     "Unless she could convince you you had it coming or that you provoked
her."

     "There's always that."  Jim shrugged.  "And the fact I'd have felt stupid
going before a judge and telling him she was abusing me. Looking at me and
looking at her, that would be a pretty far-fetched sounding story."

     "But she could have because you wouldn't have hit her back."

     "Yeah, you're right.  Between Dad and Sally, they were pretty firm about
respecting women."

     "Which is fantastic, unless it sets a man up to be a victim."

     "Hard to raise a boy the right way, I guess.  Don't hit a woman or bully her
or hurt her, but don't let *her* push *you* around either.  Hard to know where the
line is."

     "How long did room service say it would take?"

     "About half an hour."

     "Man, I stink."

     "No you don't.  You smell like us."  Jim leaned down for a long kiss. 
"Mmm."  He buried his nose in Blair's neck, sniffing.

     "You keep doing that and neither one of us are going to be able to go to
the door."

     "They can leave it outside then."  Jim pulled Blair closer and kissed him
again.  "You taste better anyway."

     After a delicious meal shared at the table in the main room of their suite,
the two men finally decided to investigate the bathing facilities.  The bathroom
left both men a bit awestruck

     "Looks more like an indoor swimming pool than a bathtub," Jim quipped,
turning on the lights, appreciating the soft, recessed glow around them.  There
were large bulbs framing a vanity mirror, answering the obvious need for more
intense light for ladies applying makeup, but those were controlled by a separate
switch.  There was only one phrase that came to mind to describe the atmosphere:
mood lightning.  

     "It's a jacuzzi.  Oh, man.  Look at this shower stall!"  Blair opened a wide
glass door to reveal an extra large stall with two shower heads.  "No moving back
and forth to take turns under the water," Blair joked, referring to their almost
professionally choreographed dance to get two fully grown men effectively
showered at once.

     "Personally, I like sharing close quarters with you in the shower," Jim said,
sliding his arms around Blair from behind.  "We could conceivably spend the
weekend in here."

     "Glad we've got a three day weekend," Blair responded, leaning back into
Jim.  "One day for here, one more for the bed, and one for the beach."

     "What do you say we grab that bottle of champagne and try out the tub?"

     "Sounds great.  Better grab that basket of fruit, too.  Something tells me
we'll be here a while and I want dessert."

********

     With champagne and glasses within easy reach on the tiled ledge around
the sunken tub, grapes, strawberries and other sensuous finger foods placed
nearby, the two men shed their robes and stepped down into the tub of warm,
fragrant water.  Blair had found some bubble bath in one of the cabinets and
added a liberal shot of it to the bath, giving the water a healthy "head of foam".

     Wrapping around each other, they began kissing, enjoying the wet slide of
skin on skin under the water as their mouths explored each other.  Jim seated
himself on one of the molded seats in the tub, holding Blair close as he straddled
Jim's lap, their cocks bumping against one another.  It was a good, lazy rhythm
that would take its time getting them to the finish line, and that was fine with
them.  They were in no hurry tonight.

     Blair relished the feeling of sculpted muscles under smooth skin, of the
power in Jim's arms countered by the gentleness of his touch.  The warmth of the
water was relaxing and soothing, and he could feel the stress of the last several
weeks draining away as they made love slowly, a whole weekend stretching ahead
of them to just relax and enjoy each other.

     The movement became a bit more frenzied as the excitement built, and
with a few more slick thrusts, both men came, slumping together in the sated
lethargy that followed, Blair still held securely in Jim's arms, his head resting on a
shoulder.

     "That was nice," Jim sighed, yawning.

     "Can't get enough of you," Blair said, stroking Jim's face with a wet hand. 
"Sorry," he said, grinning and shaking a little of the water off his hand.

     "That's okay, Chief.  No hard feelings."  With that, Jim splashed him in the
face with a swipe of his hand through the water.

     "Speak for yourself!"  Blair moved off his lap and returned the gesture. 
Before long, water and bubbles were flying in all directions as they indulged in
frolicking like children in the big bathtub.   Soaked and laughing, discovering that
water and bubbles were everywhere, including on their snacks, they opted to pour
two glasses of champagne and finally relax in the warm water.  

     Sharing one of the seats, Blair tucked under Jim's arm, they sipped their
drinks and let silence reign for a while.  

     "I wish this weekend would last forever," Blair sighed, resting his head
back on Jim's arm, smiling.  "Just us, cut off from the world."

     "You'd go stir crazy cut off from the world, Chief."  Jim chuckled softly.

     "When I was younger, I probably would have.  Before...everything.  Now,
just being safe and being with you...that's enough to make me happy."  Blair
smiled.  "Well, that and 'net access."

     "I'm honored to have made the cut above the 'net access."

     "Well, not necessarily in that order," Blair amended, grinning up at Jim.

     "You little shit."  Jim laughed, leaning in for a kiss.  When their lips
parted, Blair shifted and snuggled into Jim's arms.  Holding the languid body in
his arms close, Jim kissed the wet curls.  They stayed that way a long time until
Blair finally spoke.

     "You've got the number one spot all sewn up, and you know it."

     "I know.  That's a nice feeling.  I never had the number one spot sewn up
with anybody before you."  It was an odd thing to put into words, and Jim hadn't
really planned on voicing it, but the words had just flowed.  He never felt like he
quite communicated to Blair how much their relationship meant to him, and after
all Blair had been through, it meant everything to him to do just that.  

     "How could anybody have you and not put you first?"  Blair wound his
arms around Jim a little more tightly.  "Their loss, my gain," he said, and Jim
could feel the grin against his chest.  

     "You want to get out of here before we turn into prunes?"  Jim suggested.

     "Wouldn't want anything valuable to shrivel up and fall off in the water."

     "I'm convinced," Jim said decisively, and the two of them made their way
out of the tub and toweled each other off as playfully as they'd splashed in the
water earlier.  "This bathroom's pretty trashed, Chief."

     "That's why we've got maid service," Blair responded, grinning and flexing
his eyebrows.  "Let's just leave it for now, okay?"  Blair smiled evilly, tossing a
wet towel on the floor.  "I dare you to leave it there."

     "You're a real comedian, aren't you?"  Jim retorted.  

     "I do my best."  Blair took in the full view of Jim's perfectly muscled,
toned physique. 

     "You okay, Chief?"  Jim asked, forcing himself to toss his own towel on
the floor.  

     "Oh, yeah, I'm fine.  So are you."  

     Jim just smiled at that, flopping an arm around Blair as they went into the
bedroom to find clean boxers.  Jim pulled out a pair of midnight blue silk ones
and tossed them to Blair.

     "These aren't mine," Blair said, frowning.

     "They are now," Jim said simply, pulling out a black silk pair for himself
and sliding into them.

     "These are really nice."  Blair pulled his on and enjoyed the soft, supple
feel of the silk against his skin.  "Thanks."

     "My motives weren't totally unselfish," he quipped, copping a quick feel as
he passed Blair to go into the main room.  "You bring any CD's with you?"

     "A couple."

     "There's a CD player here.  You want to get us set up with some music,
and maybe we'll relax out on the lanai a little, enjoy the moonlight?"

     "Sounds great."  Blair went to his bag and found the CD's he'd packed,
smiling as he looked at the one he planned to put in the player.  There was a song
on it that said a lot of things he wanted to say to Jim, and this seemed like the
perfect time.  

     When he returned to the other room, the doors to the lanai were open, and
Jim was standing out on th balcony, enjoying the view and smelling the sweet,
fresh, mild night air.  He loaded the CD in the player and then joined Jim on the
balcony, reaching out to him and being received gladly into eager arms.  They
swayed together to the first strains of music.  

     "I was looking for something that would kind of tell you how I felt," Blair
said, smiling and resting his head on Jim's shoulder.

//Here we are again
I guess it must be fate
We've tried it on our own
But deep inside we've known
We'd be back to set things straight//

     Jim tightened his arms around Blair.  The words hit almost too close to
home, reminding him of a time he never wanted to remember again.  And yet, it
was strangely true of their relationship.  Deep inside, they both had to know they
would never spend a lifetime without each other.

//I still remember when
Your kiss was so brand new
Every memory repeats
Every step I take retreats
Every journey always brings me back to you//

     Blair closed his eyes, only a little flare of pain at the thought of the journey
that had led them to where they were now.  The monster that had lurked in his
nightmares, waiting for him to drift off to sleep to pounce on him in an unguarded
moment, had been slain.  Somehow, Jim had broken an impossible barrier
between dreams and reality, and protected him.  Saved him.  Most importantly,
loved him.  Every journey, even into the realm of dreams, led back to Jim.  That
thought held no pain, only joy.

//After all the stops and starts
We keep coming back to these two hearts
Two angels who've been rescued from the fall
After all that we've been through
It all comes down to me and you
I guess it's meant to be
Forever you and me
After all//

     After all, indeed.  Jim smiled as he rested his cheek against soft curls. 
They'd passed through hell to get here, to win this reward.  Everything had been
against them.  By right, Blair should have never survived to be here, in his arms,
alive and healthy.  And even if he survived, he should have never been the whole,
healthy, incredible man he was.  He'd been so close to death, and so broken...and
somehow he'd drawn on Jim's strength, and an impressive reserve of his own
strength, to come back.  To be Jim's life partner, his lover, his best friend...his
everything.

//When love is truly right
It lives from year to year
It changes as it goes
Oh, and on the way it grows
But it never disappears//

     There was nothing even remotely bad about getting comfortable with each
other.  Blair had once believed that when the newness wore off, a relationship
would be stale, boring, predictable.  But true love was predictable in all the right
ways, boring in the ways that made you feel tranquil and at peace with yourself
and your life, and never stale.  Loving Jim could never be stale if they lived for
centuries.  He hoped on some plane they would, and they'd find each other
throughout eternity.  Because this kind of love never disappears, and it never
should.

//Always just beyond my touch
Though I needed you so much
After all what else is living for?//

     Blair felt tears burn behind his eyelids at these words, and he clung to Jim
more fiercely.  He'd always needed Jim, but for those awful months, he'd been
beyond Blair's touch, and there hadn't seemed much point in living.  

//After all the stops and starts
We keep coming back to these two hearts
Two angels who've been rescued from the fall
After all that we've been through
It all comes down to me and you
I guess it's meant to be
Forever you and me
After all//

     As if he'd read Blair's mind, Jim's hand rubbed up and down his back in
long, soothing strokes.

     "These two hearts are together forever, sweetheart," he whispered in
Blair's ear, kissing it and hugging him tightly.  The momentary threat of tears
vanquished, Blair smiled and sighed in complete contentment.  

After all, his life was perfect.

********

THE END