First, and foremost, on my mind is…Justin.  The rift in his relationship with Ethan is 
now, apparently, a break.  I couldn’t help mentioning it at the diner.  “Do I detect a 
discordant note in Love’s tender refrain?” I said, with emphasis on the musical reference.  
I wasn’t trying to say “I told you so.”  But, perhaps, in a way, I was.  Maybe it was just a 
way to make him face the issue.  He was certainly sensitive about it.  He barely looked at 
me.

And later, that was only the second time I had seen him seek-out the eroticism of 
Babylon’s backroom.  Last time, it was his defiance of me after the King of Babylon 
Contest.  But this time, he had no way of knowing that I’d be there. He did it for the same 
reason I go there…to forget…to cope…to distract my mind from thinking about the 
things I’m trying to avoid.  The little fucker has learned the lesson too well, perhaps.  
And yet there was an element of defiance…when he saw me.  He wanted me to watch 
him; I could see it in his eyes.  The blue lights on his beautiful face reminded me of his 
ecstasy in my bed…but there was anger in those eyes.  He was saying “It’s over…here’s 
proof.”  For several moments, our eyes were locked-together, making it seem as if we 
were fucking together…that no one else was there… and I wanted to touch him and to 
hold him.  But he was too angry for that.  I had to look away, but then couldn’t keep my 
eyes off of him. His fucking became more intense…more punishing…and he stormed-
away shortly after cumming…while I was still fantasizing that is was his mouth on my 
cock, not the trick’s.  I looked for him later, but couldn’t find him.  Maybe he’ll find his 
way back to me.  I can hope.

I’ve always been told I could figure all the angles…that I could sell shit as chocolate ice 
cream…that I could convince anyone of the most outlandish things with a logical 
argument and a serious face.  That’s how I saved Teddy’s ass.  And it wasn’t because I 
respect Teddy that much…even though he’s a member of our little band of Lost Boys.  
But Emmett’s arguments were compelling…and I respect his convictions and his 
sincerity.  “You care about us,” he said.  “…even though you’d never admit it.”  And he’s 
right.  I never want to take credit for the good things I do.  They never seem enough, to 
me.  It’s easier to make a snide remark or to use a deprecatory joke than to show true 
feelings.  It’s just the way I am.  And, in a way,  I DID do it to protect my client, too.  My 
recommendations to Jim in the steam room made perfectly good sense.  As an advertiser, 
I could spin it either way…so why not spin it to help my friend?

I have to admit…I like Jim with a weird sort of attraction…his self-assuredness, his 
larger-than-life personality, his competitiveness, his convictions, his down-to-earth good 
sense, and his rejections of the sycophants and yes-men around him.  He recognizes bull-
shit when he sees it…and he speaks his mind effectively.  I respect him…even when I 
disagree with him.  Perhaps, since I was able to cool the Ted-thing, I can also get him off 
his moralistic gay-bashing. It’s those stupid advisor who think he can ride that horse to a 
win…but I think they’re wrong.

I’m attracted to him in other ways, too.  He’s physically fit and erotically attractive. 
Could he be unaware that I’m gay?  Jim asked if I had any kids; breeders always want to 
talk about their kids. But Gardner knows I’m gay, and surely they’ve talked about it.  
And a third of gay Pittsburgh knows…well maybe half,….oh, OK…three-quarters…and 
it was in the newspapers at the time of the bashing.  I was questioned in the investigation 
and he was the fucking Chief of Police.  So he must know….and he ignores it.  Or 
perhaps there’s more to those references to “whipping my ass,” or “are you coming?” or 
the pat on my inner thigh, than the simple hetero-jock-response.  I had forgotten how 
erotic the hetero-male shower room could be…guys soaping themselves, feeling their 
firmness, stroking the contours of their muscles, and letting the water drip from their 
cock-tips like a golden shower.  You expect it in the gay health-club.  It surprised me to 
remember that straight guys do it, too…check-out each other’s equipment.  I caught Jim 
looking at my semi-hardness, then nodding subtly and smiling in approval.  I could feel 
his eyes burning into my back as I preceded him, towel-less, to our lockers.  There’s 
something there…but, in this case, it’s up to him to initiate it.  For me, it’s too big a risk, 
considering his views.

And those views are an obstacle.  I’m becoming more and more uncomfortable with my 
role in this political campaign.  I’m feeling a little shame, perhaps.  Especially after the 
look of contempt that cute guy gave me in the steam room.  “What in the fuck are you 
doing?” he whispered as I left.