Date: Wed, 26 Jul 2006 14:36:43 -0600
From: Avy MacGregor <avymac@hotmail.com>
Subject: Jake's Cowboy Part 8

DISCLAIMER: You are about to read a story that is strictly FAN FICTION and
in no way represents true accounts. I do not - nor do I wish to imply that -
I know Jake Gyllenhaal, his private life or his sexual preferences. This is
also true of all other celebrities represented in this story. This is a work
of fiction based in homo-eroticism, so if you are not of legal age, or if
this type of content might offend you, please move onto something else.

For everyone else - ENJOY!
--------------------------------------------------------------------
First and foremost, I would like to dedicate this particular segment to my
pal Terry, who has been very supportive and has waited ever-so-patiently for
Jake and Travis to really get together. I hope you enjoy this chapter, my
friend.

Also, the group page for `Jake's Cowboy' is up and running:
http://groups.msn.com/TheGyllenhaalChronicles/_whatsnew . To all of the
members who have joined up - welcome aboard! To all others - stop by, check
it out, join up, participate in discussions or just look for sneak peeks.

Thanks again to everyone for the outpouring of support via email and the
group page - it's a reward more satisfying than monetary gain (well, that's
a load of crap but it sure sounds good.) As always, I can be reached at
avymac@hotmail.com - drop me a line, say hello, voice your concerns, share
your suggestions or express whatever is on your mind. I'm all ears!

Enough blabbering - let's move onto PART 8 . . .
--------------------------------------------------------------------

	I stood in front of the wood-burning stove, a towel wrapped around my
waist, my arms, legs and torso still moist from the bath. The room was dark
and still except for the quiet draining of the bathtub and the muted light
from a bedside lamp. I remained by the fire, sucking in its warmth,
wondering what in the world was taking Travis so long; he'd gone outside to
retrieve more firewood and had been gone much longer than expected.
	When he finally returned, he entered carrying an armful of logs, clad only
in a pair of dark gray sweatpants, his hair still wet from the bath, a pair
of snow-covered flip flops noisily slapping against his otherwise bare feet.
He dropped the firewood into a large metal canister, and I stepped aside
while he shoved one of the logs into the stove. He pushed the door shut,
adjusted the flue, and then kicked his flip flops aside to stand before the
fire.
	Shivering, he said, "It's really cold out there," as if it were unusual.
	I stood close enough to feel and smell the chilled night air on him. "I
can't believe you wore your flip flops out in the snow, Travis," I said,
partially joking, partially scolding.
	He shrugged, cupping his hands over the stove. "I tend to do crazy shit
when I'm in a hurry."
	I reached out a hand to touch his damp hair. Felt the frozen tips, like
tiny icicles. "Jesus, you're freezing," I said. I moved behind him and slid
my arms around his waist, pulling him back against me. I hugged him this way
briefly, feeling the warmth of the fire permeating off his skin. I began to
lightly run my hands up and down his chest and arms, exploring his biceps,
his deltoids, his pecs, the soft downy hair surrounding his nipples. Soon my
lips were lightly grazing the back of his neck, my dick quickly stiffening
beneath the cotton towel around my waist.
	"Mmm," he mumbled, leaning his head back against my shoulder. "This is a
nice way to warm up."
	My lips clamped onto the skin beneath his ear, sucking gently while my
fingers traveled down the length of his torso, touching each indentation of
his abs, tracing the thin line of hair that pointed down to his crotch,
stopping at the waistband of his sweatpants, my fingers just slightly
dipping inside the soft fabric. I knew that he was naked underneath, and I
sucked more urgently on his neck while my hands slid further down, my
fingers tickling the pubic hair surrounding the base of his shaft. I
refrained from actually taking his cock in my hand, knowing that it was
driving him crazy, enjoying the fact that it was. He groaned slightly,
shifting the balance on his feet, trying to push himself farther back
against my hips.
	After a moment, I released his skin from the clench of my lips and pulled
my hands out from his waistband. He turned around to face me, and we kissed
and drifted together across the room, our bare feet padding against the
wooden floorboards, the backs of my legs eventually hitting the mattress of
the bed, bringing us to an abrupt halt.
	We stood together, still kissing, and then I thrust my hands into Travis's
sweatpants, forcing the fleecy fabric down until it was past his hips, my
fingers massaging his buttocks. He treated me in kind, yanking the towel
from around my waist, tossing it aside, brushing his erection against me
while his hands cupped my ass. Within seconds, we were both naked and
landing on the bed together.
	The quilts billowed up around us, and our mouths separated momentarily, a
string of saliva connecting our lower lips like webbing. We lay side by
side, peering at one another, breathing heavy. I ran several fingers through
his hair and tried to think of something profound to say, but all I could
mutter was, "Shit . . ."
	Travis didn't acknowledge my insignificant profanity. He ran a rough
knuckle down the length of my face, the calloused skin scratching against my
stubble like sandpaper. He rolled me over to face away from him and scooted
up behind me, his chest pressed against my back, his legs bent into the
contour of my thighs, his arm draped over me. I could feel the hardness of
his cock nudging up to my ass, and he pushed against my buttocks, his lips
caressing the nape of my neck, sending a wave of shivers through me.
	I opened up my thighs slightly and ran a hand down to find his cock,
pulling it forward until it was resting up against my perineum, the tip of
his shaft reaching halfway up my own dick. Then I clamped my thighs back
together and held him there, his member pulsating against my own.
	With mouth still clutched to my neck, Travis slid his hand down my belly to
grab both his dick and my own, squeezing gently. While doing this, he
gyrated his hips, sucking on my neck more intensely, his hand stroking our
hard cocks together, getting me more and more aroused. I found myself
instinctively butting up against him, wanting to press into him, wanting to
meld into him until we were one entity. I reached down and covered his hand
with my own, helping him to jack us both off.
	The room became instantly, suffocatingly hot. I could feel sweat beading up
between us, our bodies slickening, Travis's breath hot against my neck as he
stopped sucking the skin and just rested his mouth there, lips slightly
parted. I would have reached ejaculation soon had we continued on this way,
our dicks being masturbated together, Travis heavy against me, but I wanted
more.
	I swallowed several times, attempting to find my voice, my throat
completely dry, my thoughts disconnected, sparking like firecrackers,
prohibiting speech. I turned over onto my belly, pressing my stomach against
the quilts, my legs slightly splayed - one leg bent upwards, the other leg
straight - so that my cock wasn't totally crushed beneath my weight.
	Travis barely missed a beat, simply slid over so that his cock still rubbed
down against my balls. He braced his arms on either side of my torso, his
head bent forward, his tongue running along the curve of my shoulder blades,
his bangs tickling my skin while simultaneously his goatee lightly scuffed
me.
	"Travis . . ." I murmured, my voice hoarse and partially muffled by the
quilt.
	His tongue traveled up my neck; his teeth gripped my earlobe.
	"Travis . . ." I repeated, a little more audibly now.
	"Hmm . . ."
	I pushed my buttocks up to grind against his hips. Slid a hand backwards to
clutch his sweaty thigh and panted, "Just fucking get in me already."
	No response.
	"Did you hear me, Cooper?"
	Travis ceased all movement, suspended above me. For a moment I wondered
what he was thinking. Then I felt him shift, his cock sliding out from
between my legs, his arms still straddling either side of me, his palms
pressed firmly down into the quilts. I craned my neck to look up at him and
found his eyes glazed, his hair matted against his forehead, his breath
strained as though he was struggling to inhale.
	Finally, he muttered, "Are you sure . . .?" his words barely discernable,
caught in his throat.
	I laid my head back down against the quilts and nodded. This was my last
night with Travis - perhaps my last chance ever for such an encounter - and
eradicating all reservations seemed the best way to approach it.
	Travis hesitated for a moment, still above me, and then he rolled off and
turned away to the other side of the bed. I heard him pull the drawer of the
nightstand open and rummage through it, and a moment later he was tearing
open the wrapper of a condom. There was a flick of something, a soft squirt,
the movement of the mattress as Travis scooted down next to me. When his
cold lubricated finger found my asshole, I flinched. He mumbled, "Sorry,"
and continued on, slowly sliding his finger in as far as it would go, then
slowly pulling it out, repeating this process several more times before
squirting more of the lubrication from the tube. This time, he plunged two
fingers in, and I moaned deeply, shoving my mouth down into the quilts,
bucking my hips slightly.
	His lips found the same spot on my neck he had been concentrating on
earlier, and as he sucked on the skin there, he worked his fingers in and
out of me, teasing my prostate, causing me to squirm and push back on his
hand, wanting more.
	"Fuck . . . just . . . fucking . . . do it already," I panted into the
mattress. Gripped the quilts between my fingers.
	Travis obliged. Released my neck from his mouth, slid his fingers out of my
asshole and straddled himself above me, mimicking my prone position with one
leg bent up and one leg straight down. I felt the head of his cock nudge at
my hole and immediately thought that I would explode with anticipation. But
he took his time, unconcerned with my impatience, slowly sliding just the
tip of his cock inside the opening.
	I bucked my hips up, wanting more of him, and after a moment he pushed in
further, only halfway, but filling me up nonetheless. The pressure was
overwhelming. I growled into the mattress, clutching at the quilts,
struggling to manage the pain. Travis stopped, remaining inside of me but
perched motionless now, his body poised above me.
	"You okay?" he asked quietly.
	I knew I was grimacing. Could feel the veins popped out on my forehead and
neck, the quilts bunched up tightly within my fists.
	Travis leaned down to brush my ear with his lips. "Breathe, Jake," he
instructed.
	I hadn't been aware that I'd stopped. I turned my head slightly to inhale
and exhale. The pain in my rectum was profound, but I felt a determination
to endure it for one important reason if for nothing else: I absolutely
loved the physical presence of his cock inside of me.
	Travis waited a minute, allowing me an opportunity to relax, which I truly
concentrated on doing because I knew that my sphincter was protesting the
invasion. When he started to move inside me again, he took it very slowly,
unhurried, the head of his cock teasing me each time he pulled out and slid
back in. Eventually the discomfort began to subside, and I was able to
adjust to the pressure and simply enjoy the sensation of his dick filling me
up. He picked up the pace of his rhythm a bit, grunting under his breath,
his thighs rising and falling against my buttocks. I knew that he wasn't all
the way in me, but his cock was working wonders, touching my prostate, and I
moaned and gyrated, biting the quilt between my teeth.
	And then Travis suddenly pulled out of me. It felt as though I'd lost a
part of myself, and I lifted my hips up, crawling onto my knees, muttering,
"Where are you going?"
	Travis placed a hand on my thigh and lightly pushed me, whispering, "Turn
over . . . I wanna see you . . ."
	I rolled onto my back, my legs spread in a V shape, my breath ragged.
Travis slithered between me, and without needing instruction, I pulled back
on my thighs. He guided his rock-hard member back to my hole and slid
directly in, this time up to the hilt; I could feel his pubic hair against
my skin, his balls nudging my ass crack. I whimpered, shut my eyes, clenched
my teeth. Tried to adjust to the deep thrust.
	Travis grabbed one of my ankles - brought it up to his shoulder - and
started to gently plunge in and out of me, generating a smooth, steady
rhythm. "Fuck, you're tight," he groaned, and I knew it must have been a
good thing for him. It sure as hell was becoming a good thing for me.
	He grabbed my other ankle and brought it up to his other shoulder. With
both hands pressed into the quilts, I arched upwards, my buttocks suspended
above the bed. This angle provided a whole new sensation, Travis's cock
rubbing me differently, igniting my prostate, sending shivers through me, my
dick ready to explode. My ears were filled with the sound of heavy grunts
and groans, and I realized that the animal noise was coming from me but that
I had no way of controlling it.
	Travis leaned in towards me, hands pressing down on the underside of my
thighs so that my knees were practically touching my ears. He continued with
his deep thrusting while shoving his tongue in my mouth, and I hungrily
sucked on him, trying to swallow the muscle down my throat. Our bodies
writhed together, drenched in sweat, Travis's hair wet with moisture as it
swatted against my face.
	Several more thrusts occurred - I started to feel as though my entire body
was immersed in hot lava - and then suddenly I was cumming, ejaculating
profusely, my hot semen spurting out between our heaving chests, shooting
all the way up to my chin. Had Travis's tongue not been in my mouth, I would
have been shouting at the top of my lungs.
	Travis groaned inside my mouth. Tried to push his tongue farther down my
throat as his cock thrust harder and deeper inside my constricting chute,
finally reaching his own orgasm, his cock pulsating deep within me, his body
shaking above me, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.
	He remained inside of me, still pulsating slightly, and eventually released
my legs to collapse in a breathless pant. I shifted a bit to get more
comfortable and slid my arms around his back, tracing the beads of sweat on
his backbone with my finger.
	The stickiness of my cum was slick between our chests, and Travis pushed
himself up onto his elbows to look at me. Moved forward to kiss my chin and
neck and lick the drying semen from my skin, attempting to clean me with his
tongue.
	"It's fucking hot," I muttered, still out of breath.
	Carefully, Travis pulled his cock out from my spent hole and rolled off,
allowing me space. He sat up to remove the condom and carried it to the
bathroom. Returned a second later and laid down next to me again, tracing a
finger across my sticky chest. "Let's go hop in the shower," he suggested.
	I slid an arm up under my head and grinned at him. "Bathing again so soon?"
I said. "It's only been, what . . . an hour?"
	He smiled and mussed my sweaty hair with the palm of his hand. "I think we
could definitely use another wash."
	"You perhaps," I teased and pushed him aside to roll from the bed. He
reached out and managed to grab my ankle, and I went sprawling to the floor,
my knee smacking painfully against the floor.
	I cursed and yanked hard on his arm, pulling him down from the bed. He
landed on top of me, and we wrestled for several minutes, grunting and
laughing, all elbows and legs and slapping of skin. Then I broke free and
jumped to my feet. Yelled, "Last one in the tub . . ." and made a mad dash
for the bathroom.
	Travis was on his feet, quick to catch up with me. We reached the open
doorway simultaneously and attempted to both squeeze through, but our
shoulders butted together, preventing either one of us from entering. We
laughed and cursed and then gave up, turning instead to face one another.
	In that instant, all movement ceased between us . . . just eyes peering
into one another, the world a million miles away, time standing still,
nothing else but he and I, breathing together.
	Before I knew what I was saying, I uttered, "I really don't want this to
end tomorrow." The statement had been rash. I wasn't even certain what had
possessed me to blurt it out that way. I just knew that tomorrow was
definitely a day I wasn't looking forward to.
	Travis reached up and placed a hand on my face, his fingers lightly
caressing my ear. "I know," he whispered and pulled me in, just like he
always did. Our lips came together, gently parting, tongues encircling. When
he released me I felt an inexplicable tightening in my chest.

	*	*	*	*	*

	The bus terminal was empty aside from a few midnight stragglers waiting for
red-eye departures. I stood near a large bulletin board, glancing over
pamphlets and bus schedules, not really paying attention to what I was
reading, just hoping to pass the time.
	From behind me I heard odd conversation and turned to see a homeless man
shuffling across the concrete floor talking to himself - his clothes
threadbare, his hair a knotted, greasy mass atop his frail frame. He
approached me and mumbled something inaudible. I could smell the heavy
stench of liquor and urine permeating from him. I dug in my pocket and
pulled out twenty bucks. Slapped it into the palm of his upturned hand and
said, "Go get yourself a warm meal tonight."
	He smiled toothlessly at me, bowed his head, and mumbled, "Thank you,"
before shuffling off.
	I glanced at my watch and discovered the time to be past midnight. I
wondered what in the world could be taking Travis so long and so sauntered
over to the restroom to find him. I pushed the heavy door open and stepped
into the brightly-lit room. The smell was rank, and I instinctively covered
my nose with the back of my hand. I suspected the place hadn't been cleaned
in years - toilet paper clogging the urinal drains, piss stains on the
floor, several broken toilet stall doors.
	I stepped in further, noticing that Travis was nowhere in sight, confused
by his absence.
	Then I heard a muffled noise coming from somewhere in the room. Curious, I
walked down the length of the chipped tile floor until I reached the last
stall, and here I stopped. Listened. Heard movement from within and the
distinct sound of heavy breathing. My heart skipped a bit. I pushed at the
door and found it to be unlocked. It swung partially open but hit the back
of a man standing there. He was thrusting and breathing in a frenzy, his
pants pooled down around his ankles, his hairy buttocks grasped by a
familiar hand.
	Travis's hand.
	With wide eyes I realized that Travis was sitting on the toilet with the
man's dick in his mouth, being face-fucked while at the same time jerking
off his own cock. From where he sat he was looking up at me - his sea-green
eyes lifeless and devoid of any emotion - while the stranger continued to
pound into his mouth, oblivious to my presence.
	I choked down bile. Ran. Stumbled back out into the terminal desperately
trying to catch my breath, feeling as though I was being asphyxiated. I
pushed through the glass doors and stepped out onto the sidewalk,
doubled-over, my hands pressed against my knees, trying to breathe, feeling
completely beside myself.
	And that's when the drunken homeless man I'd already just given twenty
bucks to inside the bus terminal approached me and slurred with an
outstretched hand, "Spare a dime?" . . .
	I awoke with a start, gasping, my body drenched in sweat. I sat up and
glanced around with wild eyes, trying to gain my bearings in a darkened
room. Then I felt Travis's fingers graze my lower back. He groggily
whispered, "You okay?"
	I looked down at his shadowed profile. He was lying on his side in the
fetal position, naked from the waist up with only the flannel sheet covering
his lower body. It was so hot, we must have kicked the quilts off at some
point during the night.
	"Yeah . . . I'm okay," I whispered. I slid out from under the sheet and
carefully made my way to the bathroom. Once inside, I shut the door and sat
down on the toilet lid, not bothering to flip on the light. I cupped my face
in my hands and inhaled through trembling lips.
	What the hell was going on in my head?
	I had no chance to surmise an answer before there came a light tapping on
the door. Travis said, "Jake? Is everything all right?"
	I rubbed my face and jerked my head from side to side, trying to crack my
neck, hoping to regain some composure. Then I stood up, flushed the toilet
and pulled the door open with a smile. "Yeah, just had to piss." I made to
leave the room and Travis stepped aside to let me pass. I returned to the
bed and crawled back under the sheet.
	Travis used the bathroom briefly and then came to the bed, sliding in
beside me. He pulled me close, his arm draped around my neck, his lips
resting on my forehead.
	"You sure everything's all right?" he asked again.
	I stretched my leg across his thighs. "Yeah," I said. "Just . . . a weird
dream. No big deal. Go back to sleep."
	He didn't push the issue, and I was thankful, because I didn't know how I
could have possibly explained it to him.

*	*	*	*	*

	With steaming coffee mug in hand, I stepped from the bunkhouse and wandered
down the path to the horse stables. The morning was warm yet overcast, muted
sunlight sifting through a vast sky of gray clouds. I was dressed casually
in a pair of faded blue jeans and a white with green stripes pullover
hoodie, my hiking boots on my feet, my hair in its usual unkempt state.
	I felt stiff and sore all over, every muscle in my body tight and strained
from yesterday's snowboarding, my calves wrenching with every step I took.
Additionally, my asshole ached, raw and still burning from Travis's intense
fucking; I walked self-consciously, convinced I was strutting as if a pole
was shoved up my rectum.
	I felt exhausted and drained. Was thankful for the coffee but doubted that
it would do me any good. Although I'd been fortunate enough to avoid further
unsettling dreams during the night, I still hadn't slept well. Had tossed
and turned for much of the time, undoubtedly disturbing Travis, who had
seemed to toss and turn right along with me.
	I still wasn't sure what the dream had meant, or what it had represented in
my subconscious. Unrealized anxiety over Travis's promiscuity? Katy's
jealous influence? My own reservations about a homosexual encounter? I'd
contemplated these possibilities and more while showering, but at the time
no clear answers had come to me. Perhaps there simply were no clear answers.
	Taking a sip of coffee, I approached the stables and noticed Maggie and
Peter standing at the fence of a practice pen, peering in at a young girl
riding on the back of a spotted pony. I moved closer and saw that the pony
had a long leather lead attached to its harness, and that Curtis was
standing in the middle of the pen, directing the pony with the lead and a
whip. It was apparent that the girl had not been an equestrian for long, but
she had an impressive look of confidence on her face as though she was a
professional rider.
	On the opposite side of the fence, I spotted a man and a woman standing
together, conversing, a look of pride and joy on their faces as they watched
the pony ride. They were obviously the girl's parents - so focused on the
riding lesson that they didn't even notice our presence.
	Maggie greeted me with a hug and said, "Good morning, sleeping beauty. How
are you?"
	I embraced her, careful not to spill my coffee, and replied, "I'm good. How
`bout you?"
	"I'm good." She released me and stepped back to survey my appearance. "You
look like hell, little brother."
	Peter chuckled an affirmative, and I playfully glared at him. "You'd look
like hell, too," I said, "if you'd spent an entire day falling off a
snowboard." And getting the living shit fucked out of your ass, I wanted to
add, but bit my lip.
	"Jake!" a voice suddenly called, and I turned my attention to the practice
pen. Curtis was waving at me with the whip.
	"Morning!" I called out.
	"Travis is in the office." He pointed towards the stables with the whip.
"He wanted me to send you in when you got up."
	I raised a hand in appreciation. "Thanks!" Turning to Maggie and Peter, I
said, "I guess I'll see you guys later."
	But Maggie snatched me by the elbow, preventing me from leaving. To Peter,
she said, "Give us a second, honey, please." He hesitated but then
acquiesced, hobbling across the dirt to stand near the fence a few feet away
from us.
	Maggie released my elbow and leaned against the fence to face me, her blue
eyes suddenly serious. I half-expected her to communicate with me via mental
telepathy again, but she surprised me by quietly saying, "Please tell me
that you're taking precautions, Jake."
	I looked at her, my mouth falling open. "What?"
	She crossed her arms, pursed her lips, looked very matronly all of a
sudden. She leaned in a little closer and whispered, "I mean condoms."
	I jumped back from her as if she'd bitten me, drops of coffee spilling down
onto my boots. "Jesus!" I said, wide-eyed. "Did you just say what I think
you said?" I wasn't angry with her, just shocked and embarrassed.
	She glanced back at Peter; he still stood several feet away, desperately
trying not to eavesdrop, his eyes squarely set on the girl riding the pony.
When Maggie turned back to me, she remained serious. "I just want to know
that you're being safe," she stated.
	I held up a hand to silence her, my cheeks burning hot at the knowledge
that she'd guessed I'd already had sex with Travis. "Mags," I said. "There's
no need to worry about me."
	She reached out a hand to pull back the collar of my hoodie, exposing my
neck. "From the looks of that hickey," she said, "I'd say my concern is
pretty valid."
	I immediately touched the spot and rubbed at it, as if this ridiculous
action would somehow make it disappear faster. I'd already noticed the
hideous marking after my shower but had hoped the hoodie would hide it. I
should have known, with Maggie around, that I couldn't hide anything from
her.
	Her expression suddenly changed, softening, her eyes gentle. She said,
"There's definitely something different about you today."
	"Oh yeah?" I said. "What?"
	She studied me briefly, contemplating her answer, her eyes narrow. "I can't
quite put my finger on it," she said. "But you seem . . . renewed somehow.
Changed. In a good way."
	I studied her. Tried to come up with a response but found myself
speechless.
	She didn't wait for me to speak - simply pecked me on the cheek, instructed
me to take care, and walked back over to join Peter. He smiled at her
arrival and slid his arm around her shoulders, pulling her in, his tall
frame towering over her, their opposite statures complimenting one another.
	I peered at them for a moment while Maggie's observation rolled around in
my head. Could she really have sensed such a profound change in me?
	Of course she could have, I convinced myself. That's how Maggie is.
	I turned and made my way into the stables, the stench of manure and damp
hay pungent. It was a smell I'd already grown at least partially accustomed
to - a smell that would forever remind me of this trip.
	I knew where the office was located because Travis had given me the grand
tour on the first day, and so I walked the length of the stalls, greeting
each horse as I passed, approaching the office door to find it partially
closed, Travis's voice wafting out. I considered pushing the door open, but
then recalled the toilet stall scenario from my dream and decided to knock
instead.
	"Come in!" Travis called out.
	I stepped inside. Travis was seated in a large swivel office chair behind a
wide metal desk, the phone pressed to his ear. He waved me in, raising his
finger to indicate that he would only be a minute. I took a seat in what
appeared to be an old doctor's office waiting room chair and sipped on my
coffee while Travis talked shop. It was intriguing to hear this side of him
- Travis, the ranch businessman, discussing roundup and castration, subjects
of which I had very little comprehension of.
	Continuing to sip my coffee, I glanced around the office, noting the array
of certificates, ribbons and photos lining the walls, all pertaining to
either horses or cattle. Directly behind Travis hung a massive corkboard, a
million papers pinned to it, not one thing making sense to me as I tried to
read a few of the memos and fliers.
	"Okay," Travis said into the phone. "I'll call you next week when I have a
concrete date . . . Yeah, that sounds good, Rick . . . Okay, later." He
placed the cordless phone back into its charger and then looked at me,
grinning. "Good morning," he said sweetly, leaning back in his swivel chair.
	"Good morning yourself," I replied.
	His eyes looked about as tired and puffy as my own, but his demeanor seemed
livelier. He stood up and came around to the front of the desk, leaning
against the edge, his cowboy boots nudging the tips of my hiking boots. He
was dressed in blue jeans and a black shirt, its top two buttons undone, a
gray fleece vest covering his torso, the Resistol hat perched atop his head,
his goatee neatly trimmed.
	"Sleep well?" he asked, attempting to poke fun at my restless night.
	I took a sip of my coffee. "I slept just fine, thank you very much."
	He crossed his arms. Grinned at me. "You're full of shit."
	"Whatever." I was partially grinning, too.
	"Do you know that you talk in your sleep?"
	I looked at him. "I do not."
	"Do, too," he said. "I heard you clear as a bell."
	"Oh, yeah? What did I say?"
	"That you worship my body."
	I laughed. "Oh really? Are you sure you heard correctly?"
	He nodded. Leaned forward to pluck the coffee mug from my hands. Placed it
on the desk and then pulled me up to my feet, bringing me into his arms. He
threw his hat aside and nuzzled his face into my neck, and I embraced him,
smelling the shampoo in his hair.
	"You taste good," he whispered, his tongue traveling.
	"Stop it," I lazily commanded. "You're gonna give me another goddamn
hickey."
	He moved back and looked at me with innocent eyes. "ME? I would never do
such a thing."
	"Oh yes you would," I said. "Look." I pulled back my collar and revealed
the large, reddened mark on my skin. "It's the size of fucking Texas."
	He peered at it, feigning intrigue, and then pulled back his own shirt
collar, revealing a hickey beneath his right earlobe, approximately the size
of a quarter. "Who's guilty now?" he said.
	I sneered. Said flippantly, "That's hardly noticeable."
	He smacked my arm with his open hand, and suddenly we were wrestling
together, laughing, sending papers spilling from the desk. I managed to grab
him in a choke hold, and with my knuckles I rapidly rubbed his scalp,
causing a burn, making him yell and kick.
	"Say uncle," I commanded.
	"Fuck you!" he shouted, desperately trying to break free.
	The struggle continued until Arturo appeared at the door. I immediately
released Travis and sent him sprawling forward. He grabbed the arms of the
chair to right himself and then attempted to straighten his shirt and messy
hair. "Morning, Arty," he said breathlessly.
	Arturo was smirking, wrinkles creasing around his mouth. "Morning," he
replied. He stepped into the room and picked up several manila folders from
atop a short filing cabinet. "Just came to get the vaccination charts." Then
he turned and left, exiting the office as quickly as he'd entered.
	Travis and I looked at each other. Broke out into laughter.
	After a moment, Travis suppressed his smile and said, "Are you still up for
riding this morning?"
	Purely on a whim, I pulled him into another embrace, hugging him as tightly
as possible, saying nothing, feeling oddly emotional. He didn't question it,
simply reciprocated the embrace. We stood this way for several minutes, the
only sound the whinnies and occasional snorts of the horses. When I stepped
back, Travis appeared as distraught as I felt, his green eyes solemn.
	I swiftly kissed him and said, "Let's get going. I want to spend as much
time with you as possible today."
	He grabbed my hands and squeezed my fingers tightly. "All right. Let's go
saddle up, cowboy."

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