Ambush

The following fictional story deals with sex among males. If you are offended by such material, are too young, or reside in an area where it is not allowed, depart. Though not observed in this story, care enough about yourself and humankind to practice safe sex.

The author retains all rights. No reproductions or links to other sites are allowed without the author's consent.

EvanBradley33@Yahoo.com

Chapter 32 Shifting Currents and Claims

Ron had toyed with the idea of dropping by Evan's classroom during lunch, but he'd had to take part of his lunch period to help a freshman, Sherry Westbrook, who was having problems with a lab assignment in General Science. Because he had to give a physics test during his first afternoon class, a quick lunch in the cafeteria seemed his only option. As he left the cash registers, three waving hands caught his eye. Troy, Jeremy, and Kenny were gesturing for him to join them at their table in a deserted corner of the cafeteria. A fourth person was sitting there - Cody. As usual, Cody hadn't waved, but he was smiling as Ron approached their table. "Hi guys. What's up?"

"Why don't you sit down and have lunch with us?" Troy asked. "Except for class, we haven't had time to visit."

"Glad to. What's the topic of conversation?"

"How about Evan?" Cody offered, rather uncharacteristically. Cody usually remained aloof from the initial stages of a discussion.

"What about Evan?" Ron inquired.

No one said anything for a bit, but they were swapping glances. Those glances told Ron that the fellas had just been discussing Evan. He wondered why they were hanging back in replying to his question. . . . Oh, yeah - he realized why. They wanted to be careful about how they broached the subject since they weren't that well acquainted with him yet. They also were uncertain of the degree to which Evan and he had connected, so they wanted to be careful. 'Nice - if they didn't care about us, they wouldn't be so hesitant,' he thought.

In another break with the usual script, Kenny took the lead. "We don't understand why Evan is upset because we all had sex together. We don't want to hurt him. We're wondering if that means we can't ever have sex together again." Four sets of eyes shifted to Ron's.

'Was that Cub turning into a Lion?' Ron wondered under their intense scrutiny. Why were they asking him this in front of Troy and Cody? Had to mean Jeremy and Kenny had disclosed something of his claiming them for the Pride - maybe not all of it, but some of it. He had to move carefully here.

'When uncertain of the lie of the land, turn a question back,' Ron thought. "What do you think, Jeremy? Is Evan upset with you guys?"

"I've been trying to explain that Evan isn't angry with anybody, but because his behavior changed, my brothers are having trouble believing that."

"Did you ask Evan about it?" Ron pressed on.

"Yes. He said it made him feel very lonely, like he was before he started connecting with some of us."

"Do you guys think there's anything in Evan's past that might be feeding this reaction?"

Quiet ensued for some moments. "Tim." Kenny said. "He felt like he did when Tim dumped him for Alan Frazier."

"And that reminded him of all the times others dumped him - his dad, wife," Jeremy added. Troy and Cody were shifting their attention from one speaker to another as though at a tennis match.

"Yes," Ron said quietly. "He's not angry with you. He wonders if his past history is about to repeat itself with you guys. He's afraid. You guys have never perceived how much time Evan has spent being afraid."

"I can't imagine him afraid," Cody stated.

"He shows us he's vulnerable sometimes - but afraid?" Troy added.

"Haven't you ever been afraid of something?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, but I never considered myself in the same class with Evan. He's older, intelligent, wise," Troy answered.

"Fear is fear, regardless of the breadth of one's experience," Ron answered. "If you've lost a lot, you will learn to fear loss."

"Are you afraid like that?" Cody asked intently.

"Yes," Ron answered simply. Nothing was said for a bit.

"I suppose he's just waiting for some sign that we're about ready to leave him behind?" Troy asked.

"Yes," Ron replied.

"After all we've been through together, why can't he just trust us?" Cody asked.

"How do you convince a child who's been starved for a long time that food will always be plentiful and available?" Ron asked.

They mulled the question for quite a period of time. "But Evan has you. Why does he need us?" Cody asked.

"Evan and I haven't been together enough to be as close as you think we are. And you know how cautious Evan is, how he holds back if he's not certain how he'll be received. So he's leaning on you guys, waiting to see if it works for the two of us. You think that he's not afraid of my walking away from him?"

"Why wouldn't it work out for you two?" Jeremy asked.

"Jeremy, you're lucky. So are you Troy. You didn't have to work through a long string of failures to find your special people. I don't know that much about you Cody, but you understand what I mean. If you've crashed and burned enough times, you become wary, guarded, as Kenny knows."

Kenny shook his head in agreement. "But there was a man who already wanted me for his lover right there, waiting," Kenny said, placing his hand on Jeremy's thigh, squeezing it, earning a smile and a wink in return. "So I haven't had to deal with it as long as Evan."

"A hunk like you struck out?" Cody asked Ron. "Is there something wrong with you?"

Ron grinned. "Thank you, you irreverent cuss," he said to Cody. The guys snickered as Ron looked away and then back at Cody. "If you didn't scare so many guys away, Cody, you'd learn that there are sharks and barracuda out there, not to mention piranha. In fact, your manner probably misleads them into thinking that you're a predator. In any case, unless you've been attacked, you don't know what you are dealing with until it's too late. They scout you and then move in. Many guys are trapped before they know that they're prey." Ron's grave visage and demeanor sobered the guys up immediately. "You've surely heard the old proverb 'Once bitten, twice shy.' Evan still bears bite marks."

"You too, Ron?" Kenny asked. Ron shook his head in the affirmative.

"Why would he rely on us?" Cody asked.

"Oh boy," Ron observed, "you are really working this issue hard, Cody. I wonder why. You don't seem the type to be able to care that much."

Ron's frankness took Cody by surprise. He lowered his chin. "What do you mean by the 'type' I am? You make me sound egotistical or something."

"You tell me: what type are you?"

"NO type!" Cody said with some vinegar.

"Ah, yes, you flail and beat the air, announcing to people that they aren't to assume that you are like anybody else. This behavior is so marked that it makes you seem cold, unfriendly, uncaring."

"What's wrong with not being like anyone else?" Cody challenged.

"Nothing's wrong with it as long as it doesn't define every second of your existence. But if it becomes more important than it ought to be, it distorts your behavior, and if it's distorting your behavior, then it's distorting you. Moreover, if you try hard enough to be no type, you could end up being nothing at all." Cody continued to stare at Ron, but Ron knew he'd heard the warning in his words. Cody was too intent on being on top of circumstances not to listen to any intelligence that dealt with getting and staying there.

Ron studied each of them. "Don't you know that part of Evan idolizes each one of you?"

Puzzled looks were common. "Naw," Cody interjected.

"Yeah!" Ron shot back.

"How can that be?" Troy asked.

"Admiration, desire, love," Ron answered quietly.

"You mean he likes our dicks," Cody stated.

"No. Well, yes, he likes them. But he needs what you accomplish with them."

"Up his ass you mean?" Cody asked again. Ron frowned at Cody, who didn't miss the reaction.

"No. In his heart! Giving yourselves intimately to him, which you would do only if you cared about him. Accepting rather than rejecting his gift of himself to you. Come on, guys," Ron exclaimed, but he was looking at Cody. "We're talking about Evan. Do him justice."

"What do we do? If we include Evan, doesn't that hurt you?" Troy asked.

"Include me too," Ron stated quietly. Their grins were immediate as they swapped looks with each other. He continued: "If we're really brothers, we can share." Cody grinned wolfishly. "Cody's had Evan," Ron added.

Here Cody laughed out loud. "Been sniffing around, huh, Old Man?" Cody goaded. Ron's eyes lit with a counterchallenge. The others saw some kind of confrontation looming for the two - friendly but hot. "Yeah, but I saw to it that he had me too," Cody shot back. Ron aped offense, narrowing his eyes and compressing his lips. "You been messin' with my man, Hot Shot?" he asked sharply.

Cody loved it, clapping his hand on Ron's shoulder. "Don't worry, Old Man, I'll leave something for you." They all roared, catching the attention of others around them.

"And just what are your intentions toward my dad?" Jeremy asked Cody in playful belligerence.

"Planting my seed, my Merry Men," he laughed so cutely that Troy threw his arm around his shoulder, the love shining from his eyes. "We're men," Cody continued. "Our cocks have no conscience. Biological law says we plant our seed wherever and whenever." We laughed in common understanding of this powerful drive.

LaKeisha checked us out, arose, and strolled over. "A bunch of men are having fun without LaKeisha? No-o-o-o-o-o. This defies the laws of the universe." Again, the men laughed loudly since her response tied so well to Cody's remark about biological law. Diners all over the cafeteria were looking that direction. LeKeisha was laughing so hard with us with such a big smile that Ron thought her face would crack.

Meanwhile, Evan was munching slowly on his usual luncheon fare, an apple, reading a book of Native American poetry, caught up in the simple, serene, peaceful lyrics. He was distracted by movement in his left peripheral field. He looked up, finding himself staring at Alan Frazier, standing in the doorway to his classroom. What was Alan Frazier doing here? Did that mean Tim Minor was here too? He hoped that didn't mean Tim was going to be dropping by to collect Alan. Evan didn't think he could tolerate one of Tim's smirks today without popping off with some tart observation, which would prompt a return barb from Tim. No. None of that today!

Alan was his glowing, blond, hunky self, dressed in tight jeans, molded to his long swimmer's legs and defined thighs and ass that almost evoked a sigh had Evan not blocked it. His cobalt blue polo pulled the ice blue out of his eyes, accentuating his high cheekbones and neatly squared chin. He strode into the room, holding out his hand, muscle bundles in his arm much in evidence. Evan swallowed the bite of apple he had been chewing, and, without any smile, held out his hand to meet Alan's. "Hello, Alan. What a surprise. Are you back in town visiting?" he asked while they shook hands.

"Hello, Mr. Halsey," he spoke warmly, his smile dazzling.

"Please - I'm 'Evan.' I think circumstances have moved us beyond 'Mr. Halsey,'" I requested.

"I'm in town seeking a wise man," Alan explained.

"I'm certain you won't have to look far."

"I'm in the company of one now."

The corner of my mouth turned down in a frown. Now what was this all about? I couldn't help it - my antennae were twitching with concern, caution, maybe a little alarm. When someone unexpected and not really welcome, someone connected with a history of pain, walks up spouting compliments, a person couldn't escape the notion that he was about to be used brazenly.

"I know you have a class arriving in a little bit, so I wanted to come by to ask you to be my guest at dinner."

My head cocked back in skepticism. I certainly was not going to have dinner with Tim and Alan. And even if Tim wouldn't be there, I couldn't fathom why Alan would want to treat me to dinner. I didn't want to spend the evening being regaled with stories about what a wonderful life Alan and Tim had in the capital.

Alan's smile diminished a bit. "Excuse me, Evan, I'm handling this badly. I always lose a little of my control when I'm around you. Allow me to explain a few things so you won't be in the dark about my invitation. A short silence ensued while he looked out the windows on his left, collecting himself. "It's over with Tim and me." My eyebrows rose a little. I had expected their break-up eventually but not this soon. Alan's eyes were glittering, telling me he was trying to control his emotions so that he didn't betray deeper feelings. "Tim has taken up with a powerful legislator. A blond hunk, actually," he looked down at his feet in defeat.

The shot of anger through me was a surprise. He expected ME to feel sorry for him because he'd been nudged out by a golden hunk? I used to have nightmares about him, the golden boy who took Tim away from me. As he glanced at me, his face blanched. "Oh - right," he said softly. "I was that guy in your life with Tim. Poetic justice, I guess. You can tell that I'm upset enough not to be as sensitive as you deserve. You probably think that I've invited you to dinner to cry on your shoulder about Tim, or to find a sympathetic party to engage in a little Tim- bashing. That's not why I'm here."

I pursed my lips, deciding I'd let him tell me his own way.

"I've found someone," he stated a little emphatically. "Or someone's found me, I should say."

My eyebrows shot up again. Damn! I was going to have to work on developing a poker face. I quickly regained control. "Shouldn't you be smiling when you tell others that?

"I think so, but I don't want another situation like the one with Tim."

"If that's the case, aren't you connecting with a new lover a little fast after just having broken up with Tim?"

Alan cleared his throat. "He came after me - like Tim. The way Ron came after you." That last comment startled me. How did Alan know about that? I didn't think I'd like what I was going to deduce from that little bit of news when I had time to ponder it.

"That's why I want the benefit of your wisdom. I don't want to make a mistake this time. You probably think a guy like me doesn't really hurt when he's dumped, especially when a handsome man moves into his life. But I do hurt."

He waited for a reply from me. "First, Alan, I'm sorry that you were dumped. I wouldn't wish it on anyone. I know with a guy like Tim, it's especially difficult because he so . . . electric, sexy, hot - all that." I didn't want to get into swapping impressions of Tim. "Second, I hope you don't expect me to tell you what to do about this new man, for I won't. It's appropriate for only you to make such a decision, especially in the charged mix of events that you've just related."

"I know. I wouldn't put you in that kind of a position. I have to live by MY decisions. But I'm confused, probably because this guy, as you pointed out, came after me before I really put some time between Tim and me." His eyes began glowing. "Jacob's wonderful, Evan. I never dreamed I could feel so good with a man as I do with Jacob. He's almost old enough to be my father. He's very lonely, and he needs me. I've never felt so valued by someone else before. You can see that going from Tim to someone like Jacob could be confusing for me. But before I move any further into a relationship, I need to get my head on straighter. I think you can help me clear away some of the fog and ask myself the right questions."

I stared at him, realizing that he wasn't setting me up, that he'd meant everything he'd said, that he wasn't engaging in idle flattery, that he wasn't going to make me relive my experience with Tim. "Okay. When and where?"

"How about this evening. Francini's?"

I frowned. Memories of Tony's blurting out at Jeremy's reception that I had romantic trysts in Francini's alcove were right there at the forefront of my perceptual screen. "No, I think Francini's wouldn't be the right place for us to talk." I heard a cough behind Alan. He wheeled about to see who was behind him. LeKeisha Green and Angela Walker were standing in the doorway, ill at ease. 'Oh great,' I thought. 'Angela or LeKeisha will run right to Tony Francini to tell him what she overheard.'

"Hey, LeKeisha and Angela. I'll bet you came to pick up the handouts I ran out of in class today. Here they are," I said as I grabbed two handouts, arose, and walked around the desk. When I handed them the papers, I tried not to look at Angela, Tony's girlfriend. They thanked me and departed, but Angela looked back at me as they began walking down the hall, her forehead furrowed.

"Where then?" Alan asked as I turned back to him.

"Alan, I'll let you choose the restaurant since you are paying. Just not Francini's." I could tell that Alan was wondering what was churning in the subtext of the last couple of minutes of our conversation.

"May I pick you up at your home at 5:30?"

That surprised me. How did he know where I lived? Students were beginning to enter the room, so I didn't pursue the point. "Fine. I hope it's going to be casual dress."

"Nothing else," he answered with a killer smile, seeming now to be back on even footing. We took our leave of each other.

After classes, I drove home and checked the mail, leaving Jeremy a note about where and in whose company I was. I toyed with the idea of calling Ron, but I was afraid he'd think I was being dramatic. Or he might conclude that I was still fixed on Tim as a romantic interest, harboring some deep desire that Tim would come back to claim me as his now that Alan was out of the picture. Why was it that whenever I thought of Ron this way of late, I was always doubtful about how he'd react to my behavior? No wonder I was apprehensive about sharing my true feelings toward him.

Alan arrived promptly at 5:30, clad in a white and light grey plaid shirt and grey slacks. Wherever we went, he would catch the envious eye of men and women. He drove us to a restaurant named The Scholar's Inn, near the local college, an area of the city that I didn't frequent much. The Scholar's Inn was an up-scale establishment, assuming one could use "up- scale" realistically in a campus area. It had a contemporary Tudor, timber-stucco look. The restaurant was frequented, I assumed, by college couples having a special night out on the town and by faculty and staff. Featuring rooms of alcoves rather than huge, noisy dining rooms, the lighting was subdued, the decor comfortable, and the music soft.

After we'd been seated, I ordered a gin and tonic while Alan decided on a beer. To move us into a conversational mode, he inquired as to what excitement had occurred in my life recently. I decided he wasn't fishing for the low down about Ron and me, so I told him about Jeremy's adoption and the reception. He asked the day and time of the hearing and reception. When I told him, he exclaimed, "That's the very moment I found out about Tim and Brandon. Brandon's the legislator."

"I'd gone home from class - I still don't know why Tim was there. Well, yeah - I guess I do. He wanted me to find them in bed together, which I did. Our bed. He didn't even apologize. I don't think Brandon liked it though. He was probably thinking about protecting his position and wondering if I'd go ape about the two of them. Tim, on the other hand, just grinned at me that way he does when he thinks he's in control. Asked me right there in front of Brandon when I'd be vacating the apartment. I went to the phone immediately and called some buddies I'd made at the university. They came right over so that I could move out on the spot. Good thing I hadn't lived there long enough for me to collect a lot of belongings. One of the guy's parents had bought him a condo as an investment since he'd be attending the university through his undergraduate and graduate years, so he had a bedroom for me until I could find a place to live."

"Oh, you're staying at the university instead of returning here?"

"Yes, I like attending college in a city other than my home town, and I love the university."

"So you've already met someone else?" I asked as our first course arrived.

"Jacob Vance. He's older, married, has kids in high school. He's a physician. But he's lonely. I'd made an appointment to have a lingering cough checked out. Sparks flew the minute he walked into the examining room. He's taller than I, super good-looking with dark hair, broad shoulders, a great ass. I could tell he liked me because he had me slip into a hospital gown, watching me as I took off my clothes." Alan grinned mischievously: "I even took off my briefs before I put on the gown so he could have a good look. Jacob checked me out way more than I probably needed - you know, hands-all-over-my-body checking me out. When I ran into him a week later in a bar, he asked to buy me a drink. After we'd talked for a while, mostly about me, he asked if I had an apartment where we could go to talk. The rest is history. He is one hell of a cocksman, Evan. I don't know if his medical training has anything to do with it. We both got off three times. I even topped him once."

Alan paused, smiling, his eyes shining. He had it bad. "It's wonderful, Evan. Everything I've always wanted. But mostly it's the way I feel when I'm with him."

When he had ended his account of meeting Jacob, I stated, "Alan, you can't buy me dinner. I'll take care of it instead."

Confusion seized him. "Did I do something wrong? I'm sorry if I did. I'll stop talking if you'll still have dinner with me."

"You did nothing wrong. I won't accept the dinner because I can give you no sage advice in this instance."

"But you have before."

"In this situation, I'm too biased to give you any sound advice at all, so I won't accept a dinner as a quid pro quo for anything approaching that. Believe me: you don't want my perspective on being involved with married men."

"I just didn't want to make another mistake. You were so helpful in the past. I thought something sympathetic formed between us."

"It did." I paused, shifting my eyes back to his. "I like you more than I want to, given the circumstances of our meeting. That's not a put-down - just the truth. Another truth is that I can't be objective about a relationship with a married man."

"You don't think it's right to be involved with a married man?"

"It isn't that. A gay married man lives a difficult existence. He tries to deny or hide one of his true natures, his gay side, while living a heterosexual life. He has to do whatever he must to hold it together for everyone concerned. If anything, he deserves a medal. My concern is that I can't offer good advice because I've been involved with married men in the past." He was staring at me. "The men - not a lot - were colleagues, teachers like me who'd married to prove they weren't gay. When they realized that marriage would not suppress their other nature, they began looking for ways to address that side of them that they'd denied. I also had a serious relationship with a married man," I stated with some finality. "Just so you know, they all came after me; I didn't initiate the relationships."

"Could you share your experience with your special man so that I can make a more informed decision?"

I considered his request. This was a painful area of my life that I didn't want to revisit. Explaining it would never be a positive experience.

"Please, Evan. I respect you. You have knowledge I need. I'll listen carefully, remembering to filter what you tell me.

More long moments. I thought it a grave breach of character to shatter another's hopes capriciously. But I found myself caring for Alan. I suddenly realized that I had always cared for him from my first sight of him. It was like the feelings I'd had for Jeremy. I knew I was dazzled by his good looks too.

"Please?" he entreated.

"Tell me what you want. The unvarnished truth? Truth diluted so that it doesn't hit you hard? Truth colored up nicely like a romance? What?" I asked a trifle impatiently.

"What I always expect from you, Evan. The unvarnished truth." I stared at him, realizing that was exactly what he wanted, and he was up to it. I sighed heavily. Looked around the alcove to determine a starting point. "More than loving most men, it's a challenge to be involved with a married man."

"He's not like other men?"

"No."

"Could you tell me why?"

How long does he want to sit here and listen, I wondered? "If you are wise, you will not base your decision about Jacob and you on how lonely he is or how much he needs you. He's already denied and sacrificed a lot if he's a gay, married man and if he's a physician. So he can easily get used to not satisfying his need for you or combating his loneliness through you. You think being involved with Jacob will be only a little different from living with Tim, that Jacob will see you often. I deeply doubt it. You think if he needs you, he'll be with you often enough to satisfy that need. Again, I deeply doubt it. It just wasn't my experience. And no matter how much he loves you, he will hold back from satisfying his or your needs to protect his other lives."

I had a long swallow of my drink. "Jacob's spent a good deal of his time denying his gay or bisexual nature, acting only out of his heterosexual nature, so business as usual will see him continuing that by not spending a lot of time with you. If he's a decent guy and he has genuine feelings for you, he'll feel guilty, but he won't change. He can't. He'll just hang on to you as long as you'll allow it, for he must do that to keep the door open to what you represent for him - an outlet for his gay nature. But the point is, Alan, YOUR needs and expectations will not come first. If you are foolish, you will be there when it's convenient for HIM. You will ask little. You will not challenge his many excuses. You will make no demands, present no ultimatums. You will pretend you are not hurting. You'll do a lot of playacting, especially by pretending that he's giving you parity with him. He will take you for granted before he ever does his wife or children."

"You make it sound so bleak, all about him. But he loves me! Didn't your man love you?"

"It's hard to take a married man seriously when he tells you he loves you after he has waxed eloquent about what a great time he's had on vacation with his wife, regaling you with stories about the sights they've seen and the great meals and wines they've had, knowing you will NEVER have such an experience with him. You may counter with a suggestion that at least sex with you is better than sex with his wife. That's stuff and nonsense. He's double-natured. If you're lucky, he enjoys sex with you as much as he enjoys sex with his wife. Pray that you are more to him than a means to scratch an itch. It's painful when he's talking to you on his cell phone while driving to a great restaurant to meet his wife and friends and just before arriving, says jauntily, 'Well, here I am. I have to go be with my wife and friends. Have a good evening!'"

Alan was soaking up every word. "If he really cared," I went on, "he'd remember that you're going to sit there on your ass alone all evening, fantasizing about what it would be like to be with him, to live those same moments, knowing it will never happen because he has to be careful. Finding a substitute for him to fill your evening doesn't work because that other guy or group of friends only remind you of the guy you really want to be with. However, he's forgotten about you because he's off into his other life, his real life, his chosen life, his BETTER life. About the third time it happens, it seems like quietly cultivated cruelty. It's got to be a great ego-booster for him. It's a major downer for you. You wonder how stupid you must be to have just figured that out. You're nothing more than Styrofoam ballast under a boat dock on a lake, holding up a part of his life but always out of sight, always underwater, the ugly part, the part no one wants to see," I uttered, my tone corrosive.

I glanced at Alan, realizing that the emotional force behind my words had made him back up in his chair. He was wide-eyed. "I told you that it wasn't a good idea to listen to me, Alan. Let's just end this because it won't get any better. You'll resent my putting your Jacob in this kind of a scenario," I muttered as I slugged down the last of my drink, snagging a waiter and indicating that I wanted another.

"No, no, I need to hear this. Please Evan, please tell me." I shook my head in defeat and took a deep breath. I continued, "So more often than you'd like, when he tells you he loves you, you have to fight like hell to believe it. You can never call him at his home. You can call him only at his office but even then only at certain times of the day and only on his cell phone so you don't go through his secretary. After a while, the script for YOUR behavior is lengthy and complex. He has no script at all for his behavior because over time he and his life have become more important than you or yours. Nobody's said anything like that, but your behavior has acknowledged it. He will call you only when it's convenient for him. Every single, fucking thing will occur only at his convenience!" I noticed Alan looking around to see if we'd been overheard. However, I'd carefully checked out whether others were nearby and spoken in a softer tone what was an uncharacteristic expression for me.

"I've never heard anything so bitter come from you," he observed.

I paused, taking another draw from the drink the waiter had just set down in front of me. It was fortunate that it was a tall glass. "And when it finally is convenient for him to be with you but you are locked into a job event or a social engagement, YOU'RE the heavy. He's moved mountains to be with you but you can't make this little sacrifice for him. No matter how it starts out, it finally comes to be all about him."

Another slug of my drink. "After a while, you begin to feel like a dirty little secret. You start feeling guilty, scummy. You are not going to be with him when you'd like and need. Those few times you are together are squeezed in between events in his day. You realize that he isn't comfortable telling lies just to be with you even though he does it. And after you've made love and before he's even dressed, he makes a frantic call to his wife about what they're doing that evening, hoping she doesn't raise hell about the length of the interlude you've had with him. You wonder if he regrets it, blames you."

I took another pull from my drink. "You really find out what's it's like to be the tail end of the dog when he's promised to call you or come by but doesn't. You sit there wondering what went wrong. Then you wonder if everything is okay between you. Then you search your memory for stupid things you've said that offended him or behavior that put him off. That's the first two hours. The third hour you wonder if he's been in an accident, if something horrible has happened at home. Eventually, you drink too much and crawl off to bed, defeated and lost. You find out in the end that his wife made an impromptu engagement while talking to another wife for the married couples to get together for dinner. Maybe he doesn't have a chance to call. It really hurts when he just hasn't thought to call. If you remind him that you were waiting for him to fulfill an expectation he set up, he says nothing or stupidly and clumsily tries to dismiss it as though it really means nothing. If you set aside an evening just for the two of you, three times out of four something unexpected comes up to ruin it. Eventually, a day arrives when he realizes how much of this negative crap has collected around the edges of your relationship. Even he is intimidated by the ambiguity about the future of your relationship. He can't take it. Maybe after making hot passionate love with you - as sop, I guess - he tells you that he loves you, but he loves his wife too and he's not leaving her. Like you asked him to do that," I mumbled bitterly, remembering. "As I said - the tail end of the dog."

I paused, the images piling into my mental field, unwelcome but unstoppable.

"Please, Evan, go on," Alan encouraged.

"If anything bad happens in your life, don't look to this guy to support you or help. Anything he gives has to be filtered through all the other obligations he has, including his calendar and career. You find out that all along you've been on your own. If anything bad happens in his life, you are shut out from offering any real help. You know, if you care for someone, you have to be allowed occasions to help just to establish that the relationship is genuine, that you are making a meaningful contribution to it and his life. But that's the point - his relationship is with his family and respectable friends, not you, the dirty little secret."

I took a sip of my drink, reminding myself that I'd better watch it. "Forget about cozy holidays. Holidays are for families, which means you're out. You might as well go hibernate. You'll discover that holidays can be nightmares. Just before Christmas, he comes by for a quick toss in the hay. He hasn't been by since the first week in December because his kids have been in holiday concerts and he and his wife have had a raft of dinners, open houses, cocktail parties and the like to attend. So when he rushes in, he shoves a wrapped package in your hand and you give him his, but you have so little time together that you rush to bed. Afterwards, he's almost out the door when you remind him of your present to him. He grabs it and is off to meet his wife. Sometime during the holiday, you open your gift alone, wishing he were there with you, fearful that it will never ever happen. You never hear about your gift to him, which he probably hid in the trunk of his car, and you realize you shouldn't ask about it because he may have forgotten to open it. After all, how does he explain it if it shows up under the family Christmas tree? So you pretend your gift really made an impression on him. He probably doesn't see you until after New Year's anyway because he's involved with family or maybe traveling to relatives with his family. It's all water under the bridge then."

"Did you resent his wife?"

"No. . . .That would have been low, unfair. His wife never hurt me. I was the one more in a position to harm her. Besides, wife and children were there first. . . .No, I never resented wife or children."

"Why didn't you just end it?" Alan asked gently.

"Because I needed him. There are those moments when he's really focused on you, really is expressing his need for you, really has thought about what you contribute to his life and happiness, and is for that moment actually grateful. . . . Just as when Jacob and you are together. When it's good, it's really good. Yet it's also the worst drug you can imagine. A drib here and a drab there are enough to keep you hooked for a long, long time of nearly nothing. If it were to endure, one might end up being warped. It's like you are allowing your self-respect to be sucked right out of you."

"How long ago did this happen to you?" It was the first question of his that approached being intrusive.

"Eight years ago."

"It sounds as though it still hurts, as though you are still angry about it. Eight years is a long time to feel this way."

"I remember the first gay science fiction story I read about a guy in a future century who buys a sex android. It sounds wonderful - shopping for your ideal, finding him on a shelf, so to speak, choosing the model that offers those features you want. The married men I've known would be the first customers for such an android. Keep him in a closet until it's convenient to take him out. Turn him on, get your rocks off, shut him off, and it's back into the closet until the next time. The plot in such stories turns on the owner wanting the robot to be human, to be alive because he's so lonely and this android is such an ideal match. The first story like that I read made me laugh in derision. They don't want a real lover! Too much trouble! They don't want a companion. They've got one. They want a friend? They've got respectable friends who don't need to be explained. They only want something warm, appreciative, and convenient, so that's where the relationship heads right out of the gate." I fell silent, hating myself for my cynicism.

"Jacob won't be like that, Evan." I glanced up at Alan, who was leveling his challenge at me visually. "Were you married when you became involved with these other married men?"

"No. That was over. . . .You could be correct about Jacob, but he'll have to be special to avoid the difficulties I've identified." I paused. "I stumbled on a wonderful story once by Barry Alexander, 'Sharing Jeff.' After listening to my vitriol, you should locate it and read it as a corrective balance. Keep a copy of it for future use. Jeff and Scott, the two central characters in the story, are friends and secret lovers, Jeff being the husband married to a wonderful woman, Karen. Scott has become an ex-officio member of the family. Jeff is one compassionate, empathetic, caring guy. He tries his darndest to see that Scott doesn't lose in the ways I described, but sometimes, in spite of Jeff's decency and sensitivity, even he fails, so Scott suffers. Karen tips to Jeff and Scott's love for each other, so she tells them she's going away for the weekend to visit her sister. It's the kids' weekend with their grandparents. Finally, Jeff and Scott think they can spend a night together, can wake up in each other's arms. After a wonderful night, they are awakened to someone's cooking breakfast downstairs. Yeah, it's Karen. She isn't there to destroy them, just to discuss some ground rules so that they can all continue with their intimate family. Maybe Jacob will be like Jeff. But don't fall heir to the notion, just because Jacob is a physician, that he'll automatically be compassionate and empathetic."

"You mean there's no more reason for believing that a physician's calling makes him compassionate and empathetic than, say, a teacher's?" Alan asked, grinning, his eyes dancing with insouciance.

I looked up at him. "Was a barb ever more sweetly delivered than what you just shot at me?" I asked, grinning back, appreciating his sassiness but also his attentiveness. He chuckled with me, perhaps relieved that I received it so well.

"To be fair," I continued, "a physician may be compassionate, but his professional judgment probably requires that he not cultivate empathy, at least with his patients." I looked into my drink, lifting it to my lips for a long pull.

"I'm assuming, given the little I know about you, that it's over now?" Alan asked quietly. "Do you ever talk to him, want to be involved with him again?"

"He's dead," I stated flatly.

"I'm sorry," Alan answered, taken aback. I knew he meant it. "Was it sudden?"

"Slow."

"AIDS?"

"No!" I barked out. "Cancer! It really pisses me off when someone assumes that sickness or illness associated with a gay or bisexual has to be AIDS?"

"I apologize."

"You're too nice a guy to be thoughtless like that, Alan. Work on it," I ordered crabbily.

He nodded contritely. He was searching for a way to get our conversation back on track. "Cancer. That must have been bad."

I didn't speak for the longest time, seeing my guy's face. "When he received his death sentence, he pulled back from everyone, even his own family. I think it's a species reaction - the Elephant Graveyard Syndrome. So the family closes around tighter. As a result, you're closed out. Even though the dying one has pulled back, he needs his family. Of course, you feel bad for the wife and his kids, which only increases your guilt. The dying one grows weaker, needs more help, but you aren't going to be close enough to give it. It grows worse on all fronts - especially for him because he's begun suffering. You turn yourself inside out trying to find out news without tipping anyone to any knowledge about your relationship because he really wouldn't want the news about the two of you to be his legacy to his family. You try to slip in calls to see if you can catch him when he's finally left his job and is home for good, but he's protected. You can't call often for fear of raising questions and making what is left of his life difficult. You rack your brain trying to think of anything you can do to maintain contact and help him or the family, but there's just nothing. It's as though he's on a train speeding away from you while you're fixed on the spot. Eventually, you're cut off entirely. Sometimes you wonder if it ever really happened or if it's just a dream. Then you hear that he's died. You wonder if it was painful for him. On some level he may have thought about his family in his last moments. You wonder if you were important enough that he thought about you and what you had together. Or if, in his final moments, guilt led him to renounce you in his heart. You'll never know."

"He was thinking about you, Evan. You were one of those glowing moments in his life, despite the challenges of loving a married man."

I stared off into space. Suddenly, I smiled. "He used to drive me crazy. When we had a rare afternoon together, just the two of us, no worries, no need to rush somewhere, we'd talk endlessly after we'd made long, passionate love. He'd get on this jag where I couldn't say more than five sentences without his making an outrageous pun or making a joke about something I'd said. It was as though my only reason for existing was to be his straight man. He was really trying to jolly me up, knock me out of my constantly oh-so-serious mindset. Finally, he would have both of us laughing so hard! We both knew he'd won." I continued smiling, remembering.

I took another sip of my drink. "I did see him a couple of days before he died. He was able to be home because a hospice was helping out. That's what he wanted, to die at home. The hospice nurses told his wife that morning that he was dying. She invited friends over to say good-bye. I got to see him alone for just a few moments in his room that afternoon, which was, I think now, a gift from Providence because the house was full of family, relatives, and friends. He was flat on his back, looking up at me, suffering. He had been ready for it to be over for a long time. It broke my heart, but I didn't show it. He gave me this little smile, a twinkle in his eye, and whispered, 'Isn't this boring?' I was flabbergasted. He was able to make a joke about his dying," I croaked out, finding my throat full of something, making it difficult to talk.

"Just now, telling you this, I suddenly realize that he was doing it again. Trying to jolly me up in the last moments we were to be together." I looked at Alan, my eyes swimming. "What a gift! How unselfish of him. He knew I was hurting. I . . . I was so slow and stupid that I didn't even realize it. . . . Still, how does one joke with a dying man? There was nothing like that in my head. Even if I'd thought hard . . . ." I stared at the table for the longest time, reliving that little moment that now felt like an unforgivable error on my part.

Finally, Alan asked, "Evan . . . ?"

I continued, feeling the need to seal the matter. "They began shooting the morphine to him not long after I left to ease him over. The night he died, his family was exhausted, so they retired. No one was sitting with him - probably his wish. Someone arose in the night to check on him. He was gone. He'd died alone. He wanted it that way. I'd never met anyone before him or since who wanted to be such a non-event in every aspect of his living." A little chuckle escaped from me. "He didn't succeed. He was born in the South. He was class personified. His Southern gentility won out, making him solicitous of others, making his and his wife's hospitality legend. Both of them made a person feel like he or she was the most important person in the world at that moment. . . . ." A long silence began while I remembered, staring at the tablecloth.

Alan spoke softly, "I guess I'll quit wanting revenge on Tim. I think he doesn't realize what he's in for - Brandon's married. . . . Tim called me a week after I moved out. He wanted to give me some mail that had continued to be delivered at his apartment. We met for lunch. He told me he'd never been involved with a married man before. When you started telling me all about married men, I was thinking that Tim would probably like it. But Tim is used to being in control. I know now he won't have as much control as he thinks, especially since Brandon is also a legislator. He seems really eager to be with Brandon, more eager than he ever was to be with me."

"Or with me," I chimed in. He shook his head in the affirmative.

"Brandon can make big things happen for Tim. Tim's counting on it. I think he's also super impressed with Brandon, who comes from old money, has all the connections, an Ivy League education, estate home. Very popular everywhere. If Brandon ever ditches him, I wonder how Tim will handle it."

"You realize," I finally spoke, "that it's a dead-end relationship? Brandon will never leave his wife even if he should come to believe that vast realms of happiness await him if he lives with Tim. Too much of Brandon's life rests on that relationship with his wife and larger family. Without ever knowing him, I can tell you that his larger family's wishes and dreams are deeply woven into HIS marriage, so much so that Brandon may wish he could escape being determined by others' expectations. And we haven't even talked about his children's futures. They will need to make marriages on a par with that of their parents, and those upper-class marriages are made and run by very different rules. His children's ability to make proper marriages will be impaired if there's a nasty divorce.

"I almost feel sorry for Tim," Alan said. I didn't.

Another long silence occurred as we finished our entrees. I was feeling guilty. Alan wanted - needed - someone now, and he deeply desired Jacob. I wondered if it correlated at all with his relationship with his own father. Something like Jeremy's needing me. I was worried that I'd done some kind of damage to Alan's ability to hope for a better future for himself and another man. That would be bad. I couldn't stand it. "Listen, Alan, I warned you against seeking my counsel. Obviously, Jacob and you could create something new and different for yourselves. It could work out for you."

"Was it different with the other married guys - the ones other than your special guy?" he asked.

I waited a bit, thinking of those two other experiences. "No. The only difference was that I was not in love with them nor they with me. And there's a point there. Being involved with a married guy works best if both of you just want a sexual outlet with a male. Nothing more."

"I know you may not believe what I say, but I really appreciate your telling me about your experience, Evan. While you talked, I put myself in your place and Jacob in the place of the guy you loved - well, not the part about dying. . . . It allowed me to pull off the rose-colored lenses so that I can be realistic about what to expect. Don't worry. I heard everything you said. I'll always remember it. Yet I'm not walking away from Jacob. Even though I realize now it won't always be fulfilling or happy for either one of us, I need Jacob, and I know he needs me. His coming after me was very uncharacteristic of him. He's never done that before, no matter how much he wanted to. Like me, he'll fight the odds against us. Some days we'll win, some day's we'll lose. But we can still have each other."

I'd shoved my plate aside, staring down into my drink. I said nothing. I felt his hand cover mine. "I'm not rejecting you or what you said."

"I know."

"Are you offended that I've pushed you to open a door to a bad time in your life and then seemed to ignore what you told me?"

I shook my head in the negative. His hand tightened on mine. "Look at me, please, Evan." I looked up, but he was blurred in my vision. I wanted the tears to go away. I wanted to go away. "Since you know that I intend to form a relationship with Jacob, what can you suggest to me? I drove all the way here just to talk to you, Evan, just you. My parents believe I came to see them, and I'm glad I can see them. But you were the sole reason for my returning here. I knew you could give me something that would help me. Believe me, I'm listening to everything you say. If Jacob and I really come to love each other, you may offer us just that perspective or two that could make it work for us. It would be a great gift to us and, as you said, a good legacy from your past relationship."

I looked at my drink, taking a sip. "You're not very trusting, are you, Evan?" Alan asked.

I looked at him levelly. "I'm throwing all the ugliness and failure in my life open to you, a guy who pushed me out of a relationship with the man who was supposed to give me what I'd lost, what I needed. That doesn't bespeak trust?" I could see the synapses firing at lightning speed behind Alan's eyes. He looked away.

"I really have been misspeaking myself with you today. I think it's because I haven't had a discussion as intimate and intense as ours in such a long time. . . . And you make me nervous. I know none of my dodges or ploys will keep your piercing gaze from seeing right through me. Most people can't see past my looks." He laughed ruefully. "They don't expect to find any depth behind these looks. Not even Tim. Maybe because you did, Jacob will . . . . What I should have said was something to the effect that you trust people only when they pass your tests. Your trusting me now tells me that I've passed your tests. I'm amazed. I'm the guy that came between you and Tim, yet you're telling me all this intensely personal information without worrying how it may make you appear . . . . You care about me. You have every reason to hate me, yet you actually want things to go well for me. In some way - I hope I'm not overstepping my bounds - you love me. It boggles my mind. I never expected any of this - or this much. I'm humbled. I have nothing to give you. So I understand if you don't want to say another word."

I took a long slow pull from my drink, setting my glass down. I spoke in monotone: "You both will suffer unnecessarily if you don't talk about the very problems I've mentioned - up front before you go deeply into the relationship. You can pull out the potentially troublesome situations from what I related and discuss how you'll handle them. If you arm yourselves before you reach the event, you reduce damage. Actually, there won't be much you can do to avoid some of them, especially since Jacob is a physician, which means that he has even less control over his time and that many of his decisions are dictated by his profession. Talk about these challenges not just now but at various points over time. Make it clear that either one of you can call for a summit just to deal with it all when it piles up too much for one of you - no recriminations, no guilt trips. Use it to renew your commitment to each other. I can already tell that you two will love each other for a long time. Never forget: it's communication, not love, that will pull you two through the challenges. Love is necessary, but communication is essential."

I had another sip of my drink. "Now comes the hard part. Are you up for it?"

My remark startled him. He shook his head in the affirmative. "This relationship will last only so long as you both keep from taking it for granted. But you will begin that process blindly and innocently if you don't listen to what I say. It represents hard-won wisdom, and it defies conventional thought. By the way, if you ignore what I'm about to tell you, I'll be pissed off so much that I may never speak to you again, for you will have led me to spill my guts and disclose my stupidity for nothing. Are you ready to really listen?"

No doubt about it - I had his attention. His eyes were open more widely - if that were possible. He shook his head slowly up and down. "By the fourth or fifth time you are together, Jacob will think that he has made major sacrifices to be with you because he has had to extricate himself from a lot of stuff and people. To him, because you have no one like his family in your life, you will have sacrificed nothing. Don't ever allow him to think that, for he will start taking you for granted, and frankly, knowing you Alan, you'll allow it. 'Poor Jacob, he works so hard; he's so lonely. I'll just let it slide this time.' Some line of thinking like that, which is a crock! You work hard too. You are just as lonely as he. You are NOT less important than he! Do not make yourself a sacrificial victim on the altar of this relationship. You'll gradually kill it if you do, for you will increase his guilt load and your resentment. You are not a saint! If you clear your calendar for him and something comes up other than a medical emergency for him such that he stands you up, you stand him up the next meeting after you are finally together. It will be tough, but if you love him, DO IT! If he carelessly or, worse, callously, forgets to call or meet you, you do it to him. Occasionally, you'll allow it to slide because of mitigating circumstances. Never allow it to slide twice in a row, for you will be putting your relationship on the Slippery Slope to Doom. It's the only way to keep from oozing into a 'used-abused' relationship. It's the only way to keep that balance between the two of you and your needs and contributions. Eventually, these occasions may nearly cease."

"Is this tough love?"

"No, tough love brings somebody back from around the bend when they've allowed an imbalance in their perspectives, thinking, and behavior to occur. What I've just presented helps keep that balance in place. If the two of you discuss it, then you can take joint responsibility for managing these situations."

"'Managing a relationship' sounds . . . cold."

"Conventional thinking, Alan," I uttered in a warning voice. "Managing is what we do with interacting variables to make certain they align and perform as we wish and need. Don't be a clunk head here, please."

"That wasn't nice."

"It wasn't meant to be. You're already starting down the very road I've warned you against traveling - conventional thinking. You have to really think this through. That means challenge all your assumptions. And if this relationship is as important as you claim, you'll welcome the opportunity to challenge your assumptions to see which ones stand up."

We sat in silence for a bit. Alan excused himself to go to the restroom. He'd just turned the corner when the waiter brought the check. I flipped out a credit card in a flash and he was off. When he returned, I told him to wait while I signed the credit form. He had turned to go when Alan arrived back at the table, frowning upon realizing what had transpired. "Evan, I invited you to dinner. I wanted to pay."

"No, you want to send me home with as light a conscience as possible," I responded quietly, arising. We said nothing in the car. I was talked out. He was probably overwhelmed by all he'd heard and by my emotional baggage. When we arrived home, I slid out of the car, shutting the door and leaning inside the window. "I want so much for you and Jacob to be happy, Alan."

He immediately hopped out of the car, coming around and grabbing me in a tight embrace. "Evan . . . I know my being with Tim hurt you, but I never realized until this evening how much. You probably won't believe it, but when Tim ditched me right there in front of Brandon, I immediately thought of what Tim and I did to you. Even now I can't understand precisely why or how, but I know I've really hurt you. I'm so sorry." He paused for a moment. "Evan, would you listen to me now, allow me to share an observation?" I slowly shook my head, knowing I was going to take it on the chin. 'Well, you have been dishing it out, you know,' that voice in my head observed.

"You've allowed all this negative history to brand you, Evan. I wish I were wise enough to help you rise above that, move beyond it, especially since I helped put that brand there. Maybe you can think of a way for me to help you with that?" He pulled back, looking at me earnestly. I said nothing, for I felt empty.

"Someday, I want you to meet Jacob. I think he'll want to meet you too. I never knew I'd be so fortunate to find my love and a true friend so quickly after having my life turned upside down." I just shook my head in the affirmative, squeezed him a final time, turned, and walked to the house, my head down in shame - though I didn't quite know why. The door was unlocked, meaning Jeremy was home. I entered, trying to shut my mind off, feeling like dirt. I went into my bedroom, shutting the door, taking off my clothes and pulling on a bathrobe. I retreated to the darkened sunroom, flopping back on the sofa, wanting to turn off the memories.

I had to get out of this advice-giving mode. I was weary of it - nothing more than baggage no one really wanted to hear anyway - dismal history. I doubted anyone really paid attention. We were Americans: we'd rather fumble along on our own as opposed to allowing anyone to direct us anywhere. I closed my eyes, willing my mind to grow silent. . . . Still, Alan listened. Maybe he and Jacob had a chance to establish a good foundation for their relationship. If they did, respecting each other, maintaining balance, without doing too much damage to each other, they could have something really wonderful. It would never be ideal, but it could be wonderful. . . . I don't know how long I lay there before Jeremy came in.

"Hey Dad, guess what."

"Tell me."

"Kenny's folks want to have a family dinner to talk about where he and I are in our relationship, about college, and about what they can do to support us as a couple. Neat, huh?"

"How did you learn about this dinner?"

"Rachel asked Kenny and me to pick an evening when we would be available."

"I hope you and Kenny speak frankly with them, Jeremy. I know how you two guys are - tiptoeing around, afraid that you'll say the wrong thing. This is not an occasion for you to allow such feelings any play in the time you all spend together. They are giving you guys this opportunity, so it's your responsibility more than theirs to make it work out by telling them exactly how you feel, what you need from them, what you will give them. You may never have another chance like this. I hope you and Kenny discuss the evening before it arrives, talk about what you both need from Joe and Rachel. If you are honest but kind, it can be a blessing for all of you." I closed my mouth; sick of hearing myself spout advice.

"Okay." He sat silently. "Dad . . . no lights? You okay?"

"Yes."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Something's changed," he said, nudging me against the back of the sofa so that he could perch on the side.

"Tim Minor dumped Alan Frazier. Alan asked me to have dinner with him. We did."

"That can't explain why you're so down."

"Alan has met someone else, an older, married man, a physician. They have really connected. Alan wanted advice about avoiding problems in being involved with a married man. I declined. He persisted. I had to return to a bad time in my past. I didn't really want to go there. Now I'm trying to work my way back."

Jeremy sat there for the longest time. Then he scooted off the sofa, grabbing my arm and pulling me off on the floor. An "oomph" escaped my mouth as Jeremy rolled me over on my stomach and pulled off my robe. Then he proceeded to give me a rather rough massage that eventually moved toward gentle caresses. Gradually, he pushed out the tension, the debris of memories, dashed hopes and broken scenarios that had collected in mind, body, and soul over the evening. I awoke the next morning in my bed.

The next evening I'd settled in the study to finish grading a set of essays. It was a perfect time for such an activity, for Jeremy was at work - I thought. Not that I couldn't grade essays when Jeremy was home, for he respected my "teacher time" as I respected his "student time." I was moving along nicely, observing where students were developing and where they were faltering. My concentration was not much broken by the ringing phone. Distractedly, I muttered a hello, my mind still involved in the essay I was reading when I heard Troy's request, "Evan, I need your help."

Instantly alert, I asked, "What's wrong?"

"It's Cody. Can you come to the school right now? We really need you."

"Is Cody hurt? Have you called 911?"

"It's not that kind of situation. I'll meet you at the back gym doors." My mouth was half open to ask another question when the line went dead. I moved the receiver in front of my face, studying it as though to ask, "Now why did you do that?"

I paused for some moments, my mind teeming with questions. What were they doing in the school at this hour? Had Cody done something rash? Had someone found out about his hidden life? Whenever one is dropped into a highly ambiguous situation, he always imagines the worst. Even while I was weighing and sorting, I was arising and preparing to go to Cody's aid. I couldn't stand the idea that he was suffering stress of some kind. He was the irreverent child, but when he gave, it was worth every bit of the wait for him to open up. He gave in his own distinctive way - but unstintingly. One knew he was wholly surrounded by Cody's good will. No one would ever possess Cody. Rather, that person would happily capitulate to allow Cody to possess him. In one of those epiphanies, I realized that one never felt diminished when he submitted to Cody. It was the same way with Ron, with all the Pride, with Troy too. A far cry from the usual lore about submission.

I hopped in the car and drove to the small parking area at the back door to the gym. The few lights in the parking area disclosed a body standing on the other side of the door, a body mostly submerged in shadow. When I neared the door, I recognized Troy. As Troy swung the door open, he exclaimed, "Am I glad you're here!"

"What's wrong with Cody?" I asked, concerned.

Troy grabbed my hand as though I were a child, pulling me rapidly after him. "He will be okay now that you are here." I loved the feel of Troy's warm, strong hand, clasping mine tightly. I doubted he derived as much pleasure from it as I. "Where's Cody?"

"In the exercise room," Troy answered, pulling me so rapidly after him that I had to start trotting to keep up, interfering with lucid thought. He pulled me around the corner and into the exercise room.

"Oh!" I exclaimed, stopping immediately. There Ron was, his big body more shadow than flesh, naked, sporting a giant erection, tied to the parallel bars exactly as Kenny was in the second ambush. I tried to yank my hand out of Troy's, but he pulled me over into a huddle of naked bodies - Kenny, Jeremy, and Cody - who swarmed around me.

"What's this," I asked dumbly.

"An ambush," Jeremy answered, taking my face between his hands and kissing me hotly. While Jeremy kept me occupied, the three other guys started stripping me as I watched Troy pulling off his clothes. I marveled again over how hot he looked in his briefs, skin-tight around that jock ass but dipping into his crack, tight against those muscular legs, with a huge bulge in the pouch. The other guys' jerking off my clothes reminded me that I was totally in their control - I loved it! It was laughable too. Each one would grab a limb to divest it of clothing, forgetting that in this universe, there had to be some point of balance. Consequently, I fell to the mat while they pulled me this way and that.

When I was naked, they pulled me up and led me over to the bar facing Ron, binding my hands to the bar so that Ron and I could push our bodies against each other. Ron's eyes sparkled with little lights. How could that be when only dim light spilled in from the hall, leaving the room in semi-darkness?

"You okay, Cub?" he asked, bending his knees and pushing his cock into mine. It felt hot and hard, but his big, soft ball sac was mashed into mine, eliciting a shiver from me because of that unique warmth a guy feels when another's balls are shoved up against his. I loved the feel of his pubic bush as it tickled my cock.

Standing right beside Ron and me, Cody ran a hand gently over my ass, his middle finger running up and down my crack and over my hole. Then he gave Ron a resounding smack on his ass with his hand. It was a challenge, which Ron's eyes returned. Cody shook his hand loosely in the air as though cooling it. "Hey, Old Man, that's one hard ass. I'm surprised. It'll be mine soon." Ron grinned menacingly.

Then Cody fixed me with his eyes, moved his mouth toward mine, bit my lower lip gently and then kissed me hotly. When he moved back, he pulled me away from Ron and back over to my bar. "We're not leaving you out this time, Evan."

Towering over most of us, Troy was checking our bonds, making certain they weren't too tight. "May we become members of the Pride?" Troy asked Ron, then me.

I looked at Ron, signaling him that I was deferring to the Lion.

"Of course, but the two present Lions will take care of that later."

"What Lions?" Cody challenged.

"Ron and me," Jeremy answered in exactly the self-assured manner one would expect of a Lion. I was proud of him, noting how his position in the Pride had moved him into a new developmental stage.

"What are Kenny and Evan then?" Cody continued.

"Cubs," Kenny responded.

"What does that mean?" Cody wanted to know.

"They are why we are Lions," Ron answered, leaning over and giving Kenny a kiss on the cheek, who leaned up to return it. "They justify our existence, remind us of our better selves, require our comfort and protection, reward us for our strengths and leadership. They are the best of us. They want to receive what we want to give, But no one is locked in a role. Sometimes they 'Lion' us, reminding us of the dynamics of our leadership and our obligation to serve others."

"Here's what a Cub can do," Kenny said as he fell on his knees in front of me, licking and then sucking my balls and cock, pausing to sniff around my crotch and perineum, stroking my legs and thighs with his fingertips. Occasionally, I heard the softest moan from him. Jeremy then fell in front of Ron, where he was replicating Kenny's love-making. Troy moved behind me, whispering in my ear, "This is payback for my snubbing you at the ballgame, Evan. You know I'd never hurt you. What I really wanted to do all the time is what I'm going to do now." He began to run two lube-covered fingers up and down my crack and around my pucker. He nibbled at my ears, moving down to nip the tops of my shoulders, allowing the smooth, warm skin of his chest to caress my back. Then he slid a finger in me, loosening me, then two fingers.

Cody was more aggressively copying Troy's moves in making love to Ron, but he was moving at Troy's pace as well. I suspected that his nibbling and nipping were sharper than Troy's. I looked at Ron, knowing that he was enjoying it. His little rivalry with Cody had him buzzed. He wanted Cody to master him. Cody knew it too. I wondered if in a day or two Cody would show up at Ron's door, wanting to be mastered by him. Contemplating turning the tables on Cody only heightened Ron's enjoyment.

Finally, Troy pulled back, gently pushing me forward at the waist as the head of his cock nuzzled against my pucker. "Feel me as I enter you, Evan. Feel how much I want to fill you, give you pleasure, take my pleasure from you. I want to feel your ass embrace my cock, set off those little tremors and tickles along my dick." He slowly began to push in as Kenny began taking me deeper in his throat. With my cock sliding into Kenny's warm, wet, tight throat and Troy's big, hard cock sliding deeper into me, I was in paradise. A long, slow groan of pleasure escaped from me.

Through half-open eyes, I saw Ron was enjoying it every bit as much as I. He slowly moved is head toward me, brushing his full, warm lips against mine. Ass, cock, and lips claimed by handsome, virile men. Was I turned on! I'd seldom felt anything so intense. I'd been hearing some noise, realizing that it was I, moaning with all the pleasure.

Cody had shoved his cock into Ron, knocking Jeremy off Ron's cock. Jeremy shot a glance around Ron at Cody. Cody got the message. While he fucked Ron, he also licked the back of his neck and ears, ran his fingertips up and down Ron's sides. He was long-dicking Ron, giving him as much pleasure as he could. But I saw glints of light on his body, his perspiration telling me that he was deriving maximum pleasure too. "I've wanted to do this ever since I saw you, Ron. Don't know why. But you get to me! Now you're going to pay for it," he said as he reached around and played with Ron's nipples. I saw that dangerous grin on Ron's face. I knew when he claimed Cody, there would be no quarter given.

Troy's love-making was a mirror of Cody's, but ever so often Troy would bend down, nuzzle into the space between my neck and shoulder, and whisper my name - "Evan." Just whisper it, telling me that he was completely focused on me. "I love you, Evan. Really love you. We've come so far. I need you. Love me back, please?"

Troy's whispering was so soft and delivered right into my ear that I wasn't certain the others heard, but when I glanced at Ron, those mysterious lights still setting his eyes aglow, he smiled and shook his head in the affirmative ever so lightly, encouraging me. I used my muscles to milk Troy's cock in response, being careful not to strangle Kenny at the same time. I heard a gulp from Troy and a sharp nip on my neck. He loved it. He began to grind his cock and balls into me every once in a while, making me gulp.

I turned my head back toward Troy. Understanding, he placed his ear beside my mouth. I whispered, "When we're out of step with each other, I feel desolate. I don't know how or why, but I love you too, Troy. We've fought obstacles to draw closer to each other. I'll always be a Lion for you, fighting for you in whatever way necessary. I love you, Troy. Never let me go."

He moved his warm lips down on mine, capturing me in a demanding kiss, shifting his slide into me so that all parts of his dick could claim me. I wanted so much to be able to caress him with one of my hands and Kenny with the other hand because Kenny's lips, mouth, tongue, and throat were driving me crazy. Every move was full of nuance that told me my fellow Cub loved me too. When I looked down, I could see that he had a hand behind him caressing Jeremy's ass, sliding a finger down and into his crack. Jeremy was doing the same to Kenny.

I looked up at Ron, who had just broken a kiss with Cody. I noticed that Cody was behaving like an ardent lover, using his legs to clasp Ron tightly, moving his smooth flesh against Ron's hairy legs, which I knew was a major turn-on. He was using his hands to stroke and squeeze Ron's muscular arms, back, and pecs. Ron caught my eye with a glint - this was what Cody had wanted, first to master, but then to share himself with Ron as a lover. Classic Cody. I knew for certain he would not just want but welcome Ron's mastery. Ron must have suddenly used his ass muscles on Cody as I had used mine on Troy, because a little "Oh" escaped from Cody.

I checked Kenny out again, noticing that he and Jeremy were pumping away on their dicks. I was losing it, moving toward a giant climax. Troy was breathing loudly by my ear, telling me he was losing it too. Cody was the first to blow. I smiled. My man Ron was a powerhouse Cody couldn't withstand. Kenny and I shot off at the same time because I heard a muffled moan of delight from him when my cum shot into his mouth and I felt his warm cum hit my legs and feet. I could tell through half-open eyes that Ron was shooting too, so I suspected that Jeremy was as well. Suddenly, I felt Troy's cock expand and his cum warm me deep inside as he held me tightly, biting my neck, leaving another mark of his claim on me.

As we began recovering, Troy removed the bonds from my wrists and massaged them and my arms. Then he pulled me into a hot kiss, underscoring everything he'd said when he was making love to me. I gave it right back to him, stroking his back and ass. When we broke for a breath of air, Jeremy and Kenny were embracing and kissing. Cody had unbound Ron and then pressed his body against Ron while he nuzzled his face into Ron's neck and Ron flung his arms around Cody, pulling his close against his hairy body. Cody looked like a pliant maiden before her champion. I knew what he wanted from Ron. Ron was running his hands up and down Cody's limbs, caressing him. His hand slid down over Cody's ass, and Ron slid a finger into Cody, leading Cody to clasp Ron tightly and lean up for a kiss.

I realize that I'd frozen, watching Ron and Cody's behavior, blocking everything else out. I didn't feel jealous; I was afraid and ashamed. Strong forces I couldn't name, that I'd only glimpsed, held Ron and Cody in their grip. I had no intimations about where those forces would carry the two if they allowed it. I wasn't dumb enough to think they would block those forces. Would Ron's claiming Cody be enough to satisfy them? I glanced up at Troy. He was studying Ron and Cody with narrowed eyes. I couldn't read the look on his face. A glance down at Jeremy and Kenny, who were still sitting under the parallel bars, revealed that they were studying all of us, aware of undercurrents, trying to interpret them.

(To be continued.)

Sorry it's been so long since the last chapter, folks. For too many weeks, I've been traveling in a different state each week. Each event required that I work at home in the evenings as well as in the office (in addition to my usual duties there), creating and tailoring new work for these trips. My muse has felt taxed to the max.

This Memorial Day weekend has allowed me, amid lawn-mowing, catching up with laundry and paying bills, etc. enough quiet to get back to writing. When I did return to Chapter 32, I was surprised and a little bothered by what my subconscious had waiting for me. I hope you think this chapter justifies the wait. As usual, I already have a start on Chapters 33 and 34.

Apologies (because I appreciate you),

Evan