Wasted Life

Dear reader, this chapter contains the first sex scene of the story. Let's see who its between and how it goes. Any guesses?

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Wasted Life a Law Edwards Mystery by Sam Stefanik

16 Walt

I woke up too early and laid in the quiet darkness to contemplate my life. I thought about the way I'd lived for a while, and about the yawning nothingness that stretched ahead of me. I thought of Walt. I felt terrible about the way I'd treated him the night before, the way I'd treated him for a long time.

Walt was a wonderful man. He always had been. He was too good for me, and I was no good for him. Everyone seemed to know that but him. I sure knew it. If anything, the exchange last night had proved it.

Still, losing the office, the apartment, and my livelihood didn't bother me half as much as losing Walt. The mental image I had of him as he slipped through the door, when he was angry and hurt and afraid, tortured me when I was already tortured. Having to watch the only person who gave a damn if I lived or died walk out of my office, and likely out of my life entirely, and knowing that I was the cause of his leaving, was difficult to deal with. I brooded over it.

I met Walt near the end of 1936. I'd been off the police force for about a year and in business for myself. Walt was the overnight man at a counter service eatery up north, near the middle-class area of Passyunk Square. I'd been up that way on a case for a few weeks and stumbled into the place. The food was cheap, portions were large, and the flavor was incredible. The attractive guy behind the counter, whose name turned out to be Walt Whitman Stack, was a nice bonus. Soon, I was eating all my meals there.

Walt's shift was ten at night to eight in the morning, but he worked the place alone from eleven to six. The very first night, I raved about the food. In order to explain the culinary masterpiece I'd experienced, Walt told me where he'd learned to cook. He told me he'd gone to college for culinary arts. He also told me that he'd worked at the legendary Bellevue-Stratford Hotel from 1927 until 1930 when the Depression forced a dramatic cutback in staff. Since then, he'd bounced around, taking whatever job he could as long as he could cook and experiment. He said that's how he kept his skills sharp for when, in his words, `everything gets back to normal.'

Since I was usually in the diner between eleven and twelve and again between five and six, and since the place was usually empty at those hours, Walt and I struck up a conversational acquaintance. I'd tell him about the progress, or lack of progress I was making on my case. He would tell me stories of growing up in the rural Pennsylvania community of Scranton, or about his father, the literature professor, or about a new dish he was perfecting.

I was attracted to Walt. I enjoyed his food and his company, and I thought there was a chance that we were the same. The deliciousness of Walt's food made me hesitate to announce myself. I didn't want to risk alienating him over my sexuality and losing access to his cooking.

I deferred my decision indefinitely and it was eventually rendered moot. The case I'd been working on ended, so I had no more reason to hang around the little diner. The place was too far from my office for me to be a regular, so I figured that was the end of that. I went home and stayed away for two weeks. I tried to forget Walt and the little diner, but I couldn't get the man or his food out of my mind. One sleepless night, I took the trolley up Broad Street and walked the six blocks to the diner.

Walt was glad to see me. He fussed over me and cooked what he called his `special meatloaf' to celebrate my presence. The meal instantly became my new favorite. Walt was so solicitous about where I'd been, what I'd been doing; I thought he had to be like me.

My curiosity got the better of my judgement and I tried to ask without asking. "Do you have anything in common with your namesake?" I asked Walt as I finished my meal. By then, I'd looked up Walt Whitman the poet, and discovered that he was famously, or perhaps infamously, a homosexual.

Walt hesitated, then hedged his answer. "I'm not a poet, if that's what you mean."

I pressed my question and added some detail that I hoped would get Walt to answer me more directly. "Neither am I, but I have something in common with Whitman, and I wonder if you might."

Walt considered his answer while he rubbed a damp rag around the counter like it was the most important thing he would do that night. He tried to clarify what I'd asked him without giving it a name. "I think you're asking if I have similar tastes. Is that the question?"

I agreed with Walt's presumption. "More or less."

He stopped wiping the counter and searched my face with his pale blue eyes. Whatever he saw must have satisfied him. "Yes." He announced confidently. "The poet and I have similar tastes."

Walt's answer didn't make me turn a cartwheel, but I was encouraged. "That's good. Now the three of us have something in common."

Walt threw his rag into a sink behind the counter and leaned on his elbows with a fist pressed to each side of his face. He asked his own searching question. "What are you looking for Law Edwards? Do you want to have fun or are you ready for commitment? I like sex, but I'm not looking for a lover. I want a partner. What do you want?"

Walt's question set me back on my heels. In my deepest self, I always hoped that I'd find someone to live with, someone to come home to, someone with who I could be as much a partner as queer men were allowed to be. I didn't think I had the capacity to live that way, though. Between my job and my violent nature, I didn't think I'd ever have much more than a fairly steady bedmate. Because of that, I lied to Walt, and I lied a little bit to myself. "I don't want a partner." I said to him.

"It sounds like we want different things." Walt sighed like he was disappointed. He straightened up and turned his palms toward the ceiling in a gesture that I took to be a kind of a shrug. "But don't let that stop you from coming around. I like you and having something in common means we understand each other better."

I liked that Walt said that he liked me. It made me feel good inside. Because he said he liked me, and because I was attracted to him, after that night, I made it a point to make the trek to the diner at least once a week. I never bothered with a menu when I went. I ate whatever Walt put in front of me and was never disappointed. He enjoyed cooking something special, and I enjoyed spending time with him.

That pattern went on until the summer of 1937, when Walt landed a job in a big cafeteria at the Navy Yard. It was day shift and more money, but he needed to move further south to be closer to work. "You know the area. Where can I get a place?" He asked one night while I was savoring his special pork chops. "I'd prefer an apartment but may need to take a room for a while until I find something that's right."

I heard opportunity knock. Actually, it might have kicked the door in. I told Walt of a coincidence that was in my favor and his. "My landlord just evicted the second-floor tenant of my building. The guy had hard feelings and smashed the place up. Bad for the landlord, but good for the next tenant. Now it's got all new paint, gas range, cabinets, everything. I looked at it a couple days ago out of curiosity. He's not asking much rent because the neighborhood is crappy. I think forty a month."

Walt was enthusiastic about the possibility. "That's less than I'm paying now. Can you get me in to see it in the morning? I'll come when I finish here."

I gave him the address. He looked at the place in the morning and moved in the following week.

Soon, Walt and I got used to seeing each other regularly. Sometimes he would stop to chat on his way home from work or to ask me if I needed anything when he went shopping. In the beginning of 1938, he invited me upstairs to Sunday dinner. I gladly accepted. I'd never learned to cook and ate all my meals at counters, at the automat, or from street vendors. The only home cooking I'd had since my mother's was Walt's.

A few weeks later, he invited me again, and then again. Soon, Sunday dinner with Walt was a standing appointment instead of an occasional invitation. Over the next months, every Sunday' evolved to every day.' I ate at Walt's so often, I started to feel like a freeloader. To soothe my troubled conscience and to return some of Walt's kindness, I made it my habit to do the dishes each night after we ate. I also gave Walt money for groceries when I was flush, and he fed me for free when I was broke.

The more time he and I spent together, the more time we wanted to spend together. I started to linger after meals to talk, or to play cards, or to listen to radio programs. One night, near the end of that year, Walt invited me into his bed. That night I found out that Walt was an enthusiastic lover who knew when to be aggressive and when to be tender.

Our relationship accelerated after we slept together and by early January of 1939, I lived at his place in every way but on paper. That time with Walt was my first domestic experience. It was the first time in my life I had someone to come home to, someone to share my day with, someone to kiss goodbye' in the morning and hello' in the evening. It was the first time I had someone to sleep next to that wasn't a conquest. It was a good life, a peaceful life.

In April, I fucked up the first time. The event that led to my fuck up was supposed to be a celebration. On the second Tuesday of the month, I came home, which is how I'd started to refer to Walt's apartment, to find him making my favorite meal. Walt's special meatloaf was in the oven, roasting along with russet potatoes and a crockery dish of glazed carrots. A bottle of very nice bourbon stood on the counter next to a fresh seltzer syphon. The table was set with a flower arrangement centerpiece and red candles in tall holders. Walt kissed me `hello' and I noticed he smelled shower fresh.

"What's the occasion?" I asked.

"Welcome home." He said and ignored my question. "Dinner will be ready in forty minutes. Why don't you get a shower? Wash off the grime of the day and unwind."

I realized that Walt was seducing me. I didn't understand that because all it usually took to get me in the mood was a chin jerk toward the bedroom. I didn't dwell on my confusion because there was no downside to what I assumed Walt was building toward. I congratulated myself on what I figured would be a nice evening. `Nice dinner, few drinks, maybe a marathon tumble...happy Tuesday to me.' I thought and went to get cleaned up.

When I was showered, dressed, and back in the kitchen, the seduction continued. Walt greeted my return with another kiss, then he gave me a highball to enjoy while he set the food out. His every motion was for my pleasure. He was ahead of my every desire. As we ate, he passed sides before I asked and refreshed my drink before it was empty. He'd outdone himself on the meal and in every other way. Every bite was perfection. I wanted to stuff myself silly, but I anticipated `fun and games' later, so I used some rare self-control. I finished and pushed my plate away.

"Was it alright?" Walt asked like he didn't already know it was the best meal I'd ever had.

"Amazing." I admitted. "You going to tell me what's going on?"

Instead of an answer, Walt did something incredibly sexy. He took a cigar from his shirt pocket and gazed into my eyes while he teased it with his thick tongue. He trimmed the end with his teeth and smoothed the bite with his lips. He shaped the cigar tip and moistened it with his mouth to mellow the smoke. When he finished teasing me around the cigar, he met my eyes again while he lit it with a table lighter. He carefully roasted the end and drew on it to establish the ember. He passed the burning cigar to me across the table.

I tasted the smoke and realized the cigar wasn't one of my regular brand. It was a luxury brand I only smoked when I was very flush with cash. I drew on it and enjoyed the rich flavor of fine tobacco. I smoked and felt like a king. I'd had a fine meal, excellent whiskey, a good cigar, and had a handsome man to fuss over me.

Walt stood from the table and made a suggestion. "Why not put something on the radio and enjoy your cigar? I'll clean up and join you."

I moved to the living room and turned on the console radio. I found an orchestra variety show and sank into the Chesterfield sofa to listen. Sounds of clinking dishes and tinkling silverware floated from the kitchen and harmonized with the music of Glenn Miller, Benny Goodman, Duke Ellington, and others. When Walt finished with the dishes, he came to join me.

I had my eyes closed, so I felt more than I heard him approach. Walt's steps were silenced by the non-slip soft-soled shoes he wore for work. He sat on my left, draped his heavy right arm over my shoulders and pulled me into his big, warm body.

"Are you happy?" He asked me.

I squirmed to fit against him better and sighed in contentment. "Very."

I smoked my cigar and rested against Walt's solid body until I'd smoked the whole thing through. Walt shared a bit of the cigar. He tasted the smoke about every third time I drew on it. He wasn't a habitual smoker, but he liked the smell of good tobacco when I enjoyed it. He would occasionally sample whatever I was smoking.

When I'd smoked my cigar down to the band, Walt took the butt from me and rubbed it out in an ashtray. Just as he did, the voice of Virginia Bruce started on the radio. She was crooning Cole Porter's hit love song `I've Got You Under My Skin.' The mellow notes wafted from the loudspeaker.

"Would you dance with me?" Walt whispered.

I tried to refuse. "I don't dance."

"Please." He asked sweetly.

I couldn't refuse to dance with Walt after the evening he'd treated me to. I stood from the Chesterfield and offered my arms to him. He held me close and guided us in slow turns around the small living room. His athletic grace smoothed my uncoordinated movement and made me feel like Ginger Rogers to his Fred Astaire. That dance made me regret never dancing before. The tune finished and he kissed me in the short silence at the end of the song.

"Are you ready for bed?" He breathed over my face.

I nodded, then I shook my head. I remembered it was my turn to bottom. Since Walt and I were evenly matched in body type, and since neither of us was an exclusive top or bottom, we'd decided to take turns to keep things fair. I reminded Walt and told him I'd need a few minutes to get ready.

"No need." Walt whispered. "I'm taking your turn. I want to. I'm ready for you."

I wasn't about to argue with Walt if he wanted to bottom for me. "In that case, I'm more than ready for bed." I said with growing enthusiasm.

Walt chuckled a deep, rumbling laugh from inside his chest. Walt liked when I was eager. He always said that the energy I had when I was excited made for better sex. He and I walked hand-in-hand to the bedroom.

Once inside, Walt pulled the cover from the bed to reveal he'd already added an extra sheet to protect the regular bedclothes from our fun. With that, I finally realized the level of foresight and planning Walt had put into the evening. That realization was made double when Walt opened the nightstand to produce a brand-new can of Mrs. Tucker's Vegetable Shortening, our favorite lubricant.

Walt had seen to every detail from the greeting he gave me when I came home, all the way to the preparation for my favorite nighttime activity. I felt fresh wonder over why he was treating me so well. "Are you ever going to tell me what the occasion is?" I asked.

"After." Walt said as he moved against me and started to unbutton my shirt.

I watched Walt's thick, but nimble fingers unfasten one button after the other. "I can do that for myself." I suggested.

Walt paused to tug at the button in the middle of my chest. He raised his eyes to mine and spoke soft words over my face. "Let me have my fun."

I gave into what Walt wanted, and he undressed us both. He removed my shirt, then his shirt, my undershirt, then his undershirt. Walt sensuously peeled the layers away until there was nothing left. When we were naked, we stood face to face to admire each other.

I loved how manly Walt was. Tall and broad, a deep-chested strapping man, I lusted after his solid strength. His skin was darker than mine, a natural dusky tone like Valentino had. Walt was hairier than me. His chest and stomach, his forearms and legs, his crotch, even his lower back and ass were coated with a thick mat of straight, dark brown hair.

He stepped into me and wrapped me in his powerful arms. He crushed me against his body and kissed me with his searching tongue. I enjoyed the possessive hug and the taste of Walt's mouth. I wondered at the force of his embrace. Walt's actions made me feel like he wanted to control our encounter. I decided to exert some of my own dominance. I reached behind Walt and filled my hands with his meaty ass. I squeezed the cheeks and pulled him open to remind him of what he promised me.

Walt leaned his face away from mine and separated from our kiss. "You in a hurry?" He asked.

"No, I'm just reminding you that this belongs to me tonight."

Walt kissed me with just his lips and responded to my reminder. "All of me belongs to you tonight."

I took Walt's statement as permission to lead the session. I craned my head forward and tilted it to kiss and lick the side of Walt's thick neck. He gasped and trembled from my ministrations. While I kissed and sucked at his skin, I slid my fingers into his ass. I used the pad of my middle finger to rub circles around the tender flesh of his hole.

Walt signaled his approval of my actions. "Oh, fu-uck." He breathed as his body shook against mine.

I licked up the side of Walt's throat and under his jaw. I followed his jawline toward the back of his head until my face brushed against his ear. I nibbled his earlobe and licked the shell of his ear. "How do you want it?" I whispered into the ear I was teasing.

"Ooooooooooooonnnnn my baaaaaack." Walt groaned. "I want to watch you fuck me."

I had mixed feelings about topping Walt in the missionary position. Part of me enjoyed it because that position let me watch Walt as he took pleasure from receiving my sex. He was an incredibly sensitive bottom and he loved getting fucked. He was the only man I'd ever been with who could climax just from being penetrated. I loved fucking an orgasm out of him. When I managed to time my own climax to occur with his, I felt like a master of sex.

The downside of fucking Walt like that was it put my body on full display. I was in decent shape, almost as good as Walt in spite of my sedentary habits, but I hated to show him my scars. Walt had seen them countless times. He'd always said they didn't bother him, but I didn't understand how that could be so. I decided not to brood over it in that moment. I had a sexy man in my arms who'd asked me to fuck him. Giving Walt what he wanted became my first priority.

"Lay on the bed." I instructed Walt as I stepped out of our embrace.

Walt didn't do as I ordered. He dropped to his knees and seized my hard manhood with his right hand. Without a word, he peeled my foreskin back and took the head of my cock in his mouth. He licked and nursed at the sensitive tip, sending waves of pleasure through my body. Walt worked on my cock, taking more and more of it into his mouth. While he sucked me, he used his left hand to gathered my balls and tug them away from my body. Walt pulled them down until he could cradle both in his palm. He squeezed, the way he knew I liked, until I cried out from the exquisite pleasure-pain that flared in my guts.

Walt released my balls and my cock at the same time and rocked back to sit on his heels. He looked up at me with a smirk of cautious pride on his face. He knew that I liked what he did for me. His caution was because I hadn't asked for it. I decided to reinforce the initiative he'd taken. I leaned down, gripped his arms and heaved him to his feet. Once Walt was standing, I kissed him with all the passion I had while my hands explored his furry torso.

His body hair tickled my palms as my hands moved up his belly to his chest. My fingers sought and found Walt's hard, dark nipples. I gripped them the way I knew he liked and gave them a sharp tug. Walt broke our kiss and cried out with a mix of surprise and pain laced pleasure. "Oh, you...you..." his flushed face gasped into mine, his voice unable to complete its thought.

I held onto the nubs and rolled them between my fingers. I tugged more gently. "Oh, fuck." Walt breathed as I teased his nipples.

"Get on the bed." I reissued my former instructions, but with a modifier. "I want you on your knees. I want to taste you before I fuck you."

Walt's eyes flashed at me in the low light of the bedroom. I felt his excitement grow with the promise of the act I was about to perform on him. "Are you going to eat my ass?" He asked eagerly, his expressive voice full of naughty enthusiasm.

I gripped his nipples hard enough to make him gasp and wince. I issued my instructions and made them and order. "Kneel on the bed, now."

Walt hurried to do as I demanded. He hopped on the bed and positioned himself on his knees with his legs apart and his shoulders on the mattress. He knew I wouldn't want him on all fours, so he didn't bother to prop his upper body on his arms. I moved behind Walt and gripped his hips to steady myself.

Walt's was the only ass I ate regularly. I'd never developed the habit with anyone but him. Too many of my partners were drunken conquest. I couldn't trust them to be clean. I could trust Walt to be clean for me. As I stared into his waiting hole, I realized that I could trust Walt completely. I realized that he was the only person who I was that comfortable with.

That was another thought that I didn't dwell on. A strand of drool threatened to escape my watering mouth. Instead of wasting the lubricating fluid by letting it run onto the sheets, I put it where it would do the most good. I spit onto Walt's hole and lapped the flat of my tongue over his dark pucker. He tasted salty and a little oily. He was clean, but the time he'd spent in the kitchen had made him sweat. That was fine with me. I liked the taste of man. I pointed my tongue and drove it inside of him to get more of his flavor.

I feasted on Walt's hole while I listened to his muffled moans of pleasure. I ate his ass and massaged his firm cheeks. As I ate him, my lust built inside me. My cock throbbed between my legs, begging for attention. My balls craved release. My whole body burned with passion.

When I couldn't hold my desire back anymore, I planted my hands on Walt's ass and pushed myself away from him. I reached for the nightstand to grab the can of Mrs. Tucker's vegetable shortening. The green label had an old-fashioned grandmotherly woman on it. She seemed to look at me sharply while I greased my fingers with the silky vegetable tallow. She looked at me the way I expected a woman in a starched collar would if she knew what I used the shortening for.

I rubbed two greasy fingers around the outside of Walt's hole, then let them sink inside of him. Walt groaned in satisfaction as I fingered him. "Ooooooooohhhhhhhhhh yeeeeeeeaaaaaahhhhhhh." He moaned into the mattress.

His hole opened easily, like it begged me to fill it. I added more shortening to my fingers to make sure Walt's insides were slick, then I greased my cock. I tossed the shortening can aside and wiped my hand on the sheet. I slapped Walt's ass and told him that I was ready to give him what he wanted. "Turn over." I said.

Walt flipped himself like he was an overdone pancake about to scorch. The bed rattled and shook as he scooted his big frame to the edge of the mattress and pulled his legs up to offer himself to me. I lined up with his hole and pressed myself inside of him. Walt responded to the violation with a sharp intake of breath followed by a contented sigh. I rested for a moment to let him get used to having me inside.

While I waited, I played with Walt's feet. I pressed my face to the sole of the right one and kissed it, then I lapped it with the flat of my tongue. Walt chuckled when I kissed his foot. His chuckle built to a belly laugh when I licked his sole from his heel to his toes. As he laughed, his hole vibrated and clenched around my cock. The more I lapped at his foot, the harder he laughed and the harder he squeezed my cock. Walt's laughter, and his clenching hole, sent flutters of erotic ripples through my body. I thought it was just possible that if I kept teasing his foot, I could make him laugh me to a climax.

That's not the way I wanted to finish, so I stopped teasing Walt and let him catch his breath. As he settled, he seemed to grow impatient with me. "If you're done being silly, would you fuck me please?" He asked with a hint of exasperation in his expressive voice.

To answer him, I pulled my cock almost all the way out of his ass, then lunged back in. Walt grunted as my hips bottomed out against his ass. "Like that?" I asked.

"Just like that." He agreed.

I moved my hands and wrapped them around Walt's thick thighs to brace myself, then I started to pound him for all I was worth. I fucked Walt hard and fast. The room filled with the sticky slap of my hips against the firm flesh of Walt's ass. Walt's cock bounced against his belly from the impact while it matted his fur with its leaking drool.

Walt encouraged me, his words timed for each impact of my hips against his ass. "OH-FUCK-YEAH-HARD-ER-OH-GOD-YES!" His hands moved to his chest where his fingers pinched and pulled at his nipples, heightening the pleasure I was pounding into him.

I watched Walt enjoy himself while I enjoyed him. His ass felt incredible, tight and hot and slick. I loved the solid resistance of his big body. I loved that I could pound him as hard as I wanted, and he would beg me for more. I looked at Walt's cock to see if I was doing it right. I knew that if I was, he would be hard enough that the head of his cock would be half out of his foreskin, and it would be drooling a steady stream onto his belly.

What I saw told me I wasn't quite hitting the right spot. I lowered my hips to point my cock higher in Walt's ass and kept thrusting. Walt cried out as I slammed into him. The fact that he'd lost his words told me I was finally lined up correctly. I kept fucking as my climax built in my guts, the fire inside me stoking higher and higher as the sweat of exertion bloomed on my body and ran from my forehead to get lost in Walt's fur.

I was getting close, but I wanted to hold myself back so I could finish with Walt. I clenched my body to pull the orgasm back inside. It worked a little, but I knew I was right on the razor's edge of finishing whether I wanted to or not.

Walt came to my rescue with the announcement that he was "CLOSE!" I gripped his legs tighter and let loose with a burst of energy. I rabbit-fucked Walt until he trumpeted my name and the first volley of his climax launched from his cock to streak the dark fur of his stomach and chest. Walt's cry and the contractions of his orgasm pulled me over the edge. I exploded inside him, shot after shot of my cream filled his ass while fireworks of pleasure went off in my body.

I held onto Walt's solid thighs to keep my knees from buckling under me while I rode my orgasm to the end, then I stayed inside of him while the pleasure passed off and my control returned. The only sound in the room was coarse masculine breathing as Walt and I recovered from our rutting fit. As we came back to ourselves, our thinking minds began to notice the results of our sex.

Walt grimaced in pain. He released his nipples and rubbed the tender nubs to soothe away the harsh treatment they'd suffered while Walt was consumed by pleasure. I admired the streaks of white that radiated from Walt's deflating cock and matted his fur to his stomach and chest. One of the streaks made it as far as Walt's chin. He used his finger to scoop the drip of cum into his mouth.

Walt ran his tongue around his lips as he tasted himself. He looked into my eyes with his pale blue gaze and called me down to him. "Share it with me." He suggested.

I wanted to taste what Walt tasted, but I wanted even more. I bent double to bring my mouth as far down Walt's body as I could. I licked and sucked his load from his fur and brought what I captured to Walt's mouth to share. We kissed and let our tongues play with the salty, bitter cream.

I let the full weight of my body rest against him, our sweat and his cum smeared between us. "Thanks." I said to his face when our kiss was finished.

"Thank you." He replied.

We rested like that until we'd both recovered, and my cock returned to normal size and slipped out of his hole. We had a short discussion of whether we should shower or go to bed with the mingled sweat of our sex drying on our bodies. We decided not to clean up until the morning. I pushed myself off Walt's body and crawled into bed next to him. He moved up next to me and pulled the covers over us.

We settled together and Walt gathered my body to his. He became the bigger of our big spoons and added his heat and masculine scent to the afterglow of our sex. I relaxed into him and reveled in the feeling of being sexually satisfied and wrapped in Walt's body. Walt kissed the side of my face and reminded me of the question I'd asked several times since the start of the evening.

"Do you still want to know what the occasion is?" He asked, and then went right on with the answer. "It's our anniversary. We've been together for three months." He kissed me again, squeezed my body lovingly, and closed his eyes to sleep.

Walt drifted into contented dreamland while sirens screamed in my head. ANNIVERSARY!' My mind shouted in fear. SINCE WHEN ARE WE A COUPLE?'

I didn't sleep a wink that night. My mind swirled with worry and doubt as I wondered when and how I'd changed my status from that of occasionally paying freeloader to PARTNER.

Two awkward days later, I was offered a case in Kensington, which was way the hell away on the other side of the city. I packed a bag and left without a word. A week later, I'd brought the case to a successful close, and was headed home with a pocketful of cash. On the way, I stopped at a bar and got roaring drunk. The noise I made when I crashed through the front door of my office at two in the morning brought Walt running down the stairs.

Walt was relieved that I was alive, and he was apocalyptically angry about everything else. He yelled at me for a long time, then he didn't speak to me for a month. I apologized eventually because I was hungry and horny. He let me back into his life, on probation. After three months of good behavior, we were almost back to where we were before. Then I fucked it up again.

The pattern repeated several times. One time, I can't remember which, Walt swore we were done for good. "Never again!" He bellowed. Five months of frigid silence later, he woke me up one very early morning. He did it by pounding on my room door like he was trying to break it down.

I thought the building was on fire. I jerked the door open but found no smoke and no fire. Instead of a life-threatening emergency, there was Walt in a bathrobe. He pushed me back into the room, shut and locked the door, and removed his robe. He wasn't wearing anything underneath.

I rubbed my face and wondered which one of us was nuts. "What's up?" I asked.

"I'm tired of not having any." Walt said and pointed at my underwear. "Lose the shorts and get in bed."

I looked at him through my fingers to see if he was fooling around. He wasn't. Other than the early hour, I had no objection to what he wanted. I did as Walt said and gave him what he demanded. The sex wasn't great as Walt was very much in it for himself. I didn't mind because I still got to have sex with an attractive man. He left as soon as he finished.

The next day, Walt gave me the cold shoulder. The day after, he invited me for dinner and things went back to normal until I fucked up again.

Each time I fucked up, I told myself that if Walt would just let me back in his life, I'd never hurt him again. Each time he let me back in, I hurt him. The excuse I gave myself was that Walt asked too much of me. The plain reality was that I was afraid of the responsibility of a real, long-term relationship. I was afraid of the anger and violence that I nursed inside me. I was afraid of ruining Walt's life.

Instead of committing to him, or shutting him out completely, I made no decision and the cycle repeated like a carousel with no attendant, until Walt had enough. That morning, as I brooded in my bed, I knew I'd driven him away for good, and I was very lonely.