Chapter 23

The following fictional narrative involves sexually-explicit erotic events between men.  If you shouldn't be reading this, please move on.

In the world of this story, the characters don't always use condoms.  In the real world, you should care enough about yourself and others to always practice safe sex.

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

The town of Stafford, the Sunrise Arts Center, and the characters in this story are fictitious.

Special thanks to Mickey and Drew, who have provided inspiration, advice, and encouragement throughout the writing of this series.


Louis and I decided if we wanted to go to UNC we'd better get busy and apply.  I didn't think there was any question that he'd get in.  And, to be honest, with my grades and AP courses, I thought they'd take me, too.  I still wasn't sure what I wanted to major in.  My dad kept suggesting accounting or business, but neither of those sounded good to me.  I thought I'd sign up for general studies to begin with and then see if anything grabbed my attention.  Dad wasn't too keen on English as a major.  He kept asking, "What can you do with an English major?"  After I'd said "salute him" a couple of times that joke got old and I just told him I wouldn't declare a major until the end of freshman year.

What I was more concerned about, really, was getting to play soccer.  That's why I decided to drop by Coach Bradley's office one afternoon.  I'd told Louis to go on home and I'd call him later.

Coach seemed happy to see me.  He had me sit in a chair facing his desk, and he sat on the front edge of the desk with his legs spread.  He was about the same age as Whitney Pell, but what a difference!  For an older guy in his mid-thirties he was in great shape.  I'd seen him in nothing but his jock strap, and he was built!  He had black hair which he kept buzzed, and brown eyes.  He was a little shorter than me, maybe 5'10".  His dark hair covered his chest, arms, and legs.  But the thing that stood out about him (no, not that!) was his thick, strong soccer player's legs.

As I sat there facing him, though, I was looking at his package.  After all, it was almost at eye level, and it made his gray sweats bulge so much I couldn't help throwing wood.

"What's up, Thomas?"

I almost said "me," but I got myself together.

"Coach, I'm going to apply to UNC, and I wondered if you thought I'd have any chance of playing for the Tarheels."

"Damn, boy.  You could play for just about anybody.  You mean you haven't been recruited by Coach Wolfe?"

"No, sir.  I haven't been recruited by anybody."

"No shit?  I can't believe that.  I wish I'd known.  You're one of the best seniors in the state.  Everybody should be after you.  I guess I dropped the ball in not checking on that."

"Well, after that game against Hilldale, I suppose nobody was interested anymore."

He frowned.  "Yeah, there is that.  But they should be looking at your whole high school career, not just one game."

"That's what I'd hoped for, but I haven't gotten any feelers, not even from the smaller schools."

"And you want to go to my alma mater, do ya?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why UNC?"

Okay, it was time to tell the truth.  "Well, Coach, my buddy Louis is going there and we want to go to the same school."

He stared at me for a while.  I was expecting some sort of lecture.  Instead, he merely nodded and said, "I'd pretty much figured that out."  He took a deep breath and let it out.  "Judd, I hope you two have sense enough to be careful.  Things are a lot more liberal in Chapel Hill than they are here, but I don't know what might happen if you made the soccer program there and your teammates learned you're gay."  He looked me straight in the eye.  "You are gay, I suppose."

I looked him right back in the eye.  "Yes, sir."

"Okay, boy.  Just be careful, you and your buddy.  Now, first chance I get, I'll call Coach Wolfe down in Chapel Hill and put in a word for you.  You pretty sure Lefevre will be accepted, are you?"

I grinned.  "No question."

"I'll let you know how my talk with Jim Wolfe turns out."

"Thanks Coach.  I really appreciate anything you can do."

A few days later Mr. Cummings asked me to wait after English class.  I wondered if I had screwed up on something, but all he said was that Coach Bradley wanted to see me after my last class that afternoon.


One evening in late January or early February (I can't remember exactly) after Frank had come home from school and we were sitting having our pre-prandial drinks, he said, "Professor, there's something I want to show you."

"Okay, take off your clothes."

"You're too old to be so horny!  I'm talking about an essay one of my kids handed in."

"Oh, business.  Okay.  And there's something I need to ask you about later, so don't let me forget.  Now, `sup, as the kids say?"

He went to the briefcase he'd put down inside the door when I grabbed him and gave him a welcome-home kiss, and took out a student essay, which he handed to me.  It was double spaced, about two pages, on standard printer paper.  The writer, Judd Thomas, had entitled it, "Dark Adonis."  [See chapter 21. –Tim]

"Read that and tell me how you would handle it."

"What was the assignment?"

"Physical description of someone they knew, using all of the senses, not just sight."

"Okay."  I read the essay.  "How would I handle this, you ask?  With asbestos gloves!  It's damned hot!."

He chuckled.

"I'd say he'd done a good job.  What's the problem?"

"I agree it's a good essay.  I just wonder about the propriety of his handing it in."

"Oh, come off it!  You didn't specify a particular audience did you?"


"Then he, like most kids, assumed he was writing for you.  And, boy did he hit the target!  A gay man would have to be dead not to respond to that essay."  

He waggled his eyebrows at me.  "About 7 inches of me responded."

I changed my position to ease the pressure in my pants.  Judd's description of Louis and Frank's comment about his cock had gotten to me.  "I don't see how you can fault him.  I admire his balls for handing it in.  And you've gotta give him credit for doing a good job, I think."

"Yeah, you're right.  I knew that.  I just wanted to hear you say it."

Since we'd been sitting side-by-side on the sofa, he leaned over and began to nuzzle my neck.  I forgot all about the thing I'd wanted to ask him.

I remembered it at the dinner table.

"Have you ever been to one of the Sunrise black-tie fund raisers?"

"Nope.  What are they like?"

"I've never gone either, but the invitation came today, and of course I've heard all about them.  There will be a good orchestra, "heavy" hors d'oeuvres and desserts, and an open bar all evening.  There's also a silent auction."

"Sounds like a nice evening.  For couples."

"I'm told that a lot of singles go.  But I've never gone because it sounded like a couples' kind of do.  Now, however, I've got a partner.  Would you like to go?"

"Do you have a tux?"

"Yeah, do you?"

"Yeah.  But are we ready to appear at a place like that as a couple?"

"It's your call, sweetie.  But if we're going to have a commitment ceremony this summer, we might as well get used to being seen together.  I mean besides the soccer matches, restaurants, and church where we've been seen together all year."

"When is it?"

"On Valentine's Day, which comes on a Saturday this year."

"How much?"

"A hundred bucks apiece."


"Aw, come on!  I know you can afford that, and it's for a good cause, the Arts Alliance.  What else do you have to spend your money on?"

"Yeah, I'm not used to spending that kind of money on tickets except for my occasional trips to Broadway (which, by the way, we must do this spring), but you're right, I can afford it.  So, who's gonna lead?"

I put down my fork and reached across the table to take his hand.  "I guess we'll just have to see how that works out, you handsome dog, you."


It was Friday morning, the day after Asa had been there for dinner.  I was thinking about him while I was involved in a personal maintenance problem.  I'd had the pony tail so long I just took my hair for granted.  Lately, though, I'd begun to be impatient with the time it took to wash and especially dry it every morning.  One day I realized I needed to trim the `stache and goatee, but I didn't have time because I was drying the hair.  If I had a partner, I'd ask him whether I should lose the long hair.  But I didn't have a partner.  Maybe I'd ask Jean.  I could be sure of getting an honest answer from her, though I had no idea what her opinion would be.

I worried about Asa.  He seemed terribly alone, so alone that I ached for him.  I'd held him the previous evening as I'd wanted to do since I first saw him.  And he seemed at first to enjoy it.  He'd put his head next to mine and I felt all the tension go out of his body.  But after a while it was as if he felt guilty or something.  He just jumped up, thanked me, and left.

Had I gone too far, too fast?  And what did I want from him?  Both questions had to be addressed.  First of all, I needed to make sure he was okay, that I hadn't offended him.  Yeah, yeah, how could he have been offended if he'd seemed so comfortable in my arms?  That's like asking myself how I could feel so guilty now about enjoying sex with Chave MacPherson that night at his place.  

Since Stuart expected me to spend a good part of the weekend with him, I decided I had better figure out what I wanted and what I was going to do pretty quickly.  I worried about that on the way to work.

It was a busy morning at Sunrise.  Jean had put a copy of the Sentinel on my desk, opened to the editorial page.  Ben Ferris, the editor in chief, had written an opinion piece supporting calm, favoring any efforts to make connections, to achieve understanding.  He cited the work being done to set up a GSA group at Stafford High as the kind of thing the community needed.  I wondered what kind of reaction he'd get, but I was encouraged such an influential man would take that position.

When I got a minute, I thanked Jean for calling the editorial to my attention.  We chatted during a lull in the traffic.  I asked her about my hair.

She grinned.  "Why mess with perfection?  I'd not change anything.  You don't have any idea how much work most women put in on their appearance.  You don't have to do makeup every day and worry about your nails, or whether the damp weather is giving you the frizzies, or anything like that.  And, boss, you look damn good.  I'd just make one suggestion."

"What's that?"  I wasn't sure I really wanted to know.

"I think you should literally let your hair down for the Gala.  I'll bet you'll be gorgeous in your tux with your hair hanging down."

"I don't know, Jean.  I haven't worn it down in public for a long time.  Back when I was with Kyle, in fact."

"So, what better time for the Stafford upper crust to see you in all your glory?  Besides, I'm dying to see how it looks."

I promised I'd think about it.

Asa called mid-morning.

"Hi, Asa.  I was going to call you."

"Hi, Whitney.  Listen, I'm just calling to apologize for running off like that last night."

"No apology necessary.  I thought perhaps I'd taken a liberty and scared you off."

"Oh, no, it wasn't like that at all.  Look, I can't talk about it here, and I don't want to talk about such things on the cell phone.  Could we get together?"

"You could come to my place on Sunday evening for dinner."

"No, I won't let you cook for me again without reciprocating.  But this isn't a conversation for a restaurant, either.  How about if I bring pizza and chianti from Dino's?"

"Sounds great!  When should I expect you?"

"When do you want me?"

I thought of several answers to that question, but I suggested he show up at 6:00, since the next day was a work day for both of us.

"Great, Whitney.  I'll look forward to seeing you Sunday evening."

"Yeah, Asa, me too."  And I was.  I'd have to explain to Stu what was going on.  I'd promised.  But what was I going to say to him?  The truth would be the best thing.  I could tell him everything except how attracted I'd been to the reporter.

Fran Erskine, the chairperson of the Gala committee, came in about that time to bring me up to date on the upcoming affair, and she took the better part of an hour doing it.  I was satisfied when she left that she had things under control.  This would be my first of these annual fund-raisers, and I was a little nervous.  I didn't want anything to happen on my watch, so to speak.  But as Fran described things, I was looking forward to it.

Jerome stopped by and reminded me we hadn't had lunch since before the holidays, so we set a day for the following week.

A sixth grade class was coming in to see the place that afternoon, and the docent scheduled to show them around had called in with the flu, so I had to do that.

I called Stuart after his classes were over but before I left Sunrise.  He told me he had a previous engagement that evening but suggested we could get together the next day, Saturday, and hang out.  He also told me he had so much school work to do Sunday night he didn't think we could get together.  

That was a relief because it left me free to have Asa over without canceling anything with Stuart.  I was looking forward to kicking back when I got home.  I really needed to have a glass of wine or several and try to figure out what was happening to my love life.

I hadn't any more than gotten my coat off when the doorbell chimed.  It was the cute UPS man with a package.  He gave me a kind of smirk when I signed for it and thanked him.  There was no return address.  I was not surprised when I unwrapped the biggest box of Godiva chocolates I'd ever seen, nor was I surprised when the card inside announced that this was another gift from my "secret admirer."

I was beginning to be pretty pissed by this little charade.  I knew it had to be Chave, even though I'd originally believed him when he denied having sent the roses on Christmas Eve.  No one else I knew even remotely well had his kind of money.  Oh, there were lots of members of the Arts Alliance who could have easily afforded these gifts, but I couldn't think of a single man – or woman – among them except for Chave.

I picked up the phone and called him.  He was at home.  

"Chave, this is Whitney."

"Oh, hi, Whit, to what do I owe the honor of this call?"

"I've just gotten another expensive gift, and I know you're the one who's sending them.  We've got to talk about this.  I want to know what's going on."

He laughed.  "Oh, you think I'm doing that, do you?  Well, maybe we should talk about your admirer.  Maybe I can help you figure out who it is.  Are you busy this evening?  I'm tied up for the rest of the weekend, but I've had stew in the crock-pot all day, and I could offer you some crusty rolls and a salad with it."

"Chave, you don't have to feed me.  I just want to get some answers about this game I think you're playing."

He sounded hurt when he said, "Now Whit, surely you aren't too upset to eat with me.  That's pretty cold.  And besides, if you're right, all I've done is send you some gifts.  If you're right."

I knew I shouldn't have, but I said, "Okay.  I'll bring a bottle of red to go with the stew."

"No need.  It's open and breathing.  Just get your cute little ass over here as soon as you can so we can have a heart to heart."  

At least I think that's what he said.

So, there I was.  I'd convinced Stuart to let us return to the way things were between us before Christmas, and I'd promised him I'd tell him if I had anything to do with other guys.  Now I was having dinner with Chave on Friday night, spending Saturday and Saturday night with Stuart at his place, and expecting Asa on Sunday evening.  There was also lunch coming up the next week with Jerome, but I didn't include that because I was pretty sure that Big J. was becoming very good friends with Father Gary.

Earlier that day I had wondered whether I should ask Stuart to be my "date" at the Gala.  As I took a quick shower (wearing a shower cap so I wouldn't have to dry my hair), I decided maybe I'd best go as a single.  I tried to rationalize doing so because of my responsibilities, but I realized it wouldn't wash.  If I didn't have a date by Valentine's Day, it would be my own fault.  Maybe none of my friends would want anything to do with me by that time.

I couldn't help wondering how a reasonably intelligent adult could get himself into such a situation.


At lunch Christie and Shondra were sitting with a bunch of other girls, so I thought there would just be Louis and me at our table.  Just after we sat down, though, the Albright boys and Kevin Ptacek, another member of the soccer squad, brought their trays over and sat with us.

"'Sup guys?" I asked.

"We thought maybe you could tell us," Jamie said.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Coach Bradley has called a team meeting for after school.  It's unofficial `cause I don't think he's actually allowed to have a team meeting this time of the year.  But the word is he's got a wild hair about something, and we thought maybe you knew what it is."

"I know he wanted to see me about my getting into UNC," I said, "but I don't know anything about a team meeting."

"Are you sure?" Kevin asked.  "Word is, it's got something to do with the Hilldale game.  You been saying anything to Coach about that?"

"No, Kevin.  I think what you guys did sucks, but I promised I wouldn't say anything, and I haven't."

"Look, Judd," Phil said, "maybe what we did was wrong.  I mean what you and Louis here do in private is your own business, isn't it?  I guess we were out of line about that.  But we could all be in deep shit if you tell Coach what went down that night, ya know?"

"Like I said, guys, I gave you my word not to say anything, and I haven't.  I guess we'll just have to wait and see what Coach has in mind."

Everybody relaxed after that, and the guys were even nice to Louis, asking him where he was applying to college and stuff like that.

As we were putting our dishes in the clean-up window, Louis said, "I really wonder what's gonna happen at that meeting this afternoon, babe.  Promise you'll call me as soon as it's over?"

"Sure, lover."

I noticed that Ryanne Schultz gave us a funny look as she came to the window with her dirty dishes, but she didn't say anything.

Louis grinned.  "Woops!  Guess we'd better be careful about the terms of endearment."

"Fuck, man!  I am beginning to care less and less who knows how we feel about each other."

"'Kay, then, dude.  Call me, ya hear?"

"Will do."

I couldn't pay much attention in my afternoon classes, wondering what Coach was upset about.

It didn't take long to find out after the meeting started.

"Okay, you guys, I hope you're happy!" he said, looking totally pissed.  "You've all clammed up about what happened at the Hilldale game.  I think I know what went on that evening, but you're going to tell me.  Now!  And do you know why you're gonna tell me?  Because we came very close to being investigated by the state high school athletic association, that's why!"

There were some gasps from the team.  I don't think any of us had any idea what would have caused an investigation.

"I've just been talking with Coach Jim Wolfe, who as most of you know is head soccer coach at UNC.  He tells me that Judd Thomas has been at least unofficially blacklisted because the scouts who saw the game think Judd may have thrown it."

A collective gasp escaped from the fifteen or so guys who were there.

"Now, I know Thomas didn't throw the game.  I know that there's no significant betting on high school soccer games in this state.  Football, maybe, but not soccer.  And I think you'd all agree that Judd just wouldn't do anything like that.

I was pleased to hear several of the guys agree, with comments like "Damn straight," and "For sure!" coming from my teammates.

"So," the coach continued, "Nobody's leaving here until I find out what happened.  Or, maybe I should say, until you admit what happened, `cause I think I know."

The room was dead quiet, and several of the guys hung their heads, looking pretty guilty.

"I may be just a coach, but I'm not stupid, ya know.  The rest of you guys froze Judd out that day.  I want you fuckers to know that Judd hasn't said a word to me about what happened.  But he obviously wasn't getting the ball.  I saw what you were doing.  I couldn't do anything about it, and at the time I didn't know why.  But looking back on it, it's plain as day, isn't it?"

I was watching the Albrights.  They looked at each other and sort of gulped.  If Coach had been looking at them, he'd have known they were behind everything.  But nobody was saying anything.

"It's gonna be a long evening, gentlemen, unless somebody has the guts and the decency to admit what happened.  Do you want the guy who's scored more points than anyone in the history of Stafford High soccer to be blacklisted from playing at any college or university in the state because of what the rest of you did to him?  Think about this, too.  Thomas had a great chance at a soccer scholarship somewhere, so it's a financial loss to his parents as well as him not being able to play."

I cringed.  I didn't want this to be all about me.  I didn't want the coach to make a big deal about Louis and me.  But I admit I was sick at the thought of not being able to play soccer in college, whether it was UNC or Guilford or wherever.  My folks had always said they could afford for me to go to college, but the scholarship would have been nice.  It was a way I could feel I'd done something to help with the expenses.

As I kept watching Jamie and Phil Albright, I saw them exchange glances, then look at Kevin.  They seemed to come to a silent agreement.  Phil stood up.

"Coach, Jamie and I are the ones who should be in trouble.  The whole thing was our idea.  We wouldn't want the rest of the team to suffer, and it would be a friggin' shame if Thomas couldn't play soccer somewhere.  I guess we never thought of that."

Bradley looked back at him, nodded his head, and said, "Go on."

"Well, it was like this.  We weren't happy with one of Judd's friends.  We thought it would look bad for the whole team if Judd kept on being seen with a gay guy.  We didn't want people to get the idea that there were gays on the team, so we asked him to stop hanging out with the guy, but he wouldn't.  So we came up with the idea of keeping him from scoring at that game to show him that we didn't approve.  Jamie and I talked with some of the rest of the team, the first-stringers mostly, and they went along.  We didn't actually want to lose the game.  We just wanted to show Judd we didn't like what he was doing."

Coach looked around the room.  "Is that what happened?"  Several of the guys nodded or verbally agreed.  Some of the others looked shocked.  Obviously not everyone had been in on the Albrights' plan.  

"Thanks, Albright.  Better tell the truth now than keep on covering it up.  What you guys did was mean, nasty, and stupid, but I think I can head off an official investigation if I tell Coach Wolfe at UNC what really went on.  And maybe our leading scorer has a chance at playing for the Tarheels next year.  Or at least being on the bench in Chapel Hill while he waits for his chance to play."

I think everyone in the room breathed a sigh of relief, though for different reasons.

"Now, you morons, let me just say that you are living in the 21st Century.  Judd has every right to choose his own friends.  Thomas is not only a fine soccer player, but he's a fine man.  Though he obviously knew what you guys had done, he never told me or anyone in authority about it.  You could learn something about decency from him.  Now, get the fuck out of here!"

I had trouble leaving.  Just about every guy there came over, tapped fists, shook hands, or slapped me on the back while either apologizing or saying they hadn't had any idea of what went on at the Hilldale game.  I confess I was grateful that Phil and Jamie had come clean, but I was still a little pissed that they had done all that when they were as gay as Louis and me.

But that was a minor matter.  I called Louis from the parking lot.  He invited me to supper at his house and said I could tell him afterwards all about the team meeting.  I told him I needed to swing by my house first, but that I'd be there as soon as I could.


Maman wanted us to have dinner when Judd got there.  I was dying to know what had happened at the team meeting, but he'd said we'd talk about it afterward, so I was willing to wait.

During dinner he mentioned that he and I had better work on our college applications that weekend, and he thought it might be a good idea to do it together.  

"I think we both want UNC first because of their art program, but," and he looked at my father, "wouldn't it be smart to apply to several other places as well?"

"I think so.  The application fees will discourage most people from applying to too many schools, but you need to have an ace in the hole, so to speak."

Judd looked at me and winked.  "I think Carolina's a good bet, but we'll apply to a couple of other places just to be safe."

He seemed in a good mood, so I relaxed, assuming whatever had happened hadn't been too bad, and enjoyed the rest of the meal.

As I sat there and looked at him across the table, I wondered how I'd ever been so lucky.  I'd never experienced love before, except for my parents, but what I felt for Judd had to be the big L-word.  It didn't hurt that he was gorgeous.  He was really the Adonis.  A Blond Adonis.  His body reminded me of those Greek statues, except that he was a little thicker in the thigh and not quite as bulky as some of them on top.  And, like I've said before, his cock is bigger than on the statues that still have their cocks left on them.  His face was beautiful, boyish, with its sparkling blue eyes and almost constant smile.  If Judd wasn't smiling, I always began to worry, because a frown or even a serious expression was rare.

But this wasn't just some dumb jock.  This was a jock, all right, but a smart one.  He had great grades.  Which made me wonder how much trouble he was really having the previous fall in Burleigh's art history class.  I'd have to ask him about that some time.

And then there was the sex.  I know I'm not the first eighteen-year-old to say sex is great.  But it is.  I loved it when Whitney popped my cherry.  But sex with Judd was even better.  Whitney cared about me.  I could tell that.  But Judd loved me, and that made things really different.

That night in my room, he told me about Coach Bradley's meeting.  

"So that means you might get to play soccer somewhere after all?"

"Yeah, he gave that impression.  He'll have to explain to Coach Wolfe what really happened.  I don't know whether he will do that without explaining why the Albrights didn't want you and me hanging together, though.  I'm gonna ask him about that next week.  Right now, I just want to forget about it all."

"I'll bet we can figure out a way to take your mind off your worries."

I began to undress him.  He stood there, kicking off his sneaks so he could step out of his jeans, letting me unfasten his buttons and pull off his shirts.  When he was standing there in nothing but his socks, he started to undress me.

We've never felt comfortable about doing the anal thing at my house.  We tend to get too rambunctious, and we don't want my folks to hear us.  So we save that for his house.  That night I pushed him down gently on the bed and then climbed on top of him, resting my weight on my forearms and knees.  I began to lick his ears, probe them with my tongue, and breathe into them.  He shivered and then put his hands behind my head, pulling my face around so he could kiss it.  

After a long, gently-probing suck-face session, I scooted down so I could lap his neck and chest, eventually, as he began to breathe heavily and toss his head from side to side, nuzzling, licking, and lightly chewing on his hard little nipples.  

"Babe, you're driving me crazy!"

"You need to learn some self-control, Thomas," I said, chuckling.  But I scooted further down, lapping from his navel to his bush, which I skipped and began licking the tip of his hard tool."

"No, Louis babe, I want to do you, too."

"Okay, stud."  I turned around, straddling him the other way so we could 69.

Later, when we'd been lying there naked in each other's arms for a while, I said, "I guess it was decent of the bastard cousins to admit what they and the other guys did to you, but you didn't say they'd come out."

"No, they didn't go that far."

"Doesn't that just really piss you off?"

He rubbed his nose against mine.  "Yeah, it does.  I had a fantasy about that as I was driving home from school."

"Goody!  Tell me!"

He grinned.  I ran my tongue over his lips.  That led to more kissing.  

When we came up for air, he said, "First I thought of stripping the pair of them, giving them a Viagra each and shoving a butt-plug up each of their asses.  Then we'd tie them back to back at the base of the Stafford High flag pole."

"I love it!  What a great image!"

"But it's winter, and we wouldn't want to be cruel, would we?"

I chuckled.  "Of course not!"

"So, what about getting `em nekkid, using the Viagra, then shove half of a double dildo up each of their asses, tie `em back to back, and leave `em in the middle of the gym floor?  They'd be there when the first class came in for phys ed."

"Judson Thomas, you have a deliciously nasty imagination."

"Too bad we're such nice guys.

"Well, at least it's fun to think about.  I have a feeling that being gay in the Albright clan is its own punishment, though."

He kissed me.  "Ya know, babe, I'd never thought of that.  Leave it to you to see how the other guy feels, even if he's a bastard."

"I like the way you feel right now.  Let's snog a while longer before I have to go home."

To Be Continued.