Date: Wed, 2 Jul 2003 10:17:56 -0700 (PDT)
From: B. <brenclar@yahoo.com>
Subject: Of Carlos Part One

Disclaimer: This is a work of gay male fiction with graphic sexual
descriptions.  If for some reason you shouldn't be here - whether you are
underage or it is just plain illegal where you are - may I recommend doing
a web search on your own name.  Nothing like a vanity search to liven up
your web activities.

There is no mention in my little fantasy world of condoms or any other
aspect of safe sex, since that is how I would prefer life really was.
Remember, this is fiction.  Please play safe in your own activities.

---

All rights reserved.  No portion of this text may be published or
re-distributed beyond the Nifty sites and a personal copy for the reader's
own collection, if s/he so desires.

---

I had taken notice of Carlos the day he arrived.  He had shown up at the
start of my sophomore year, a graphic design major who had transferred in
when the school he had attended in his native Brazil proved to be somewhat
below what he had been expecting.  He had an unparalleled beauty that
cannot accurately be described.  Black hair, a perpetual five o'clock
shadow, big beautiful eyes that were as welcoming and friendly as they were
seductive.  He was not terribly tall - perhaps about 5'8".  Clearly in good
shape, but not beefy and overdeveloped.  Easily his most remarkable
physical feature was his legs.  Perfectly proportioned and well toned, with
a lush (though not obscenely thick) layer of straight black hairs.
Mercifully he favored shorts, which allowed them to be on permanent
display.

His personality was agreeable though not remarkable.  Although not a stupid
or even slow man, he often displayed a kind of naivety that was cute to
some, but admittedly kind of tiresome for anyone wishing to hold a
conversation with him.  He was definitely a bit rough around the edges, but
very sincere and usually fairly easy to get along with.  No matter, he was
definitely easy on the eyes, and friendly to a fault.

Despite not having a lot of things in common I positioned myself so that we
became friends.  Around school we came to be known as good friends, and
were often seen chatting in the hallways or at lunch.  Being rather
repressed and hung-up, I was careful to not overplay my hand and reveal my
somewhat less-than-honorable interests.  I knew I never had a chance with
him, but kept myself near him in case of any sudden, drunken moment that
could be used to my advantage.  I knew I ran the risk of ruining the
friendship if that happened, but what the hell - college friendships rarely
last anyway.

One remarkable thing that happened as we worked through the school year and
our assignments was we found that although we definitely had different ways
of attacking design problems, our styles met halfway and were easily
integrated.  We first discovered this on an assignment the entire class was
given to do a mock-up of a book jacket for a new edition of some classic
tome or other.  I had met him for coffee to look at each other's work.  I
showed him printouts of what I had done for the front and rear of the cover
- I had found an interesting stock image, picked a color scheme and a
couple of fonts, and had as much as the layout, title, and image in place.
It sort of fell apart from there.  I couldn't come up with a good solution
for getting the author's name in there, and the rest - the spine, the back
cover - was just not coming together.

We looked over that, then looked at his work - he had run into similar
problems, but as usual he was much better on detail than he was on the
bigger picture.  All sorts of smaller elements fell into place on his
layout, but it simply wasn't held together by anything in particular.

As we kept working and advising each other it became clear that our advice
to each other was to take the solutions that we had separately used and
merge them.  Eventually Carlos looked at me and asked "Do you have your
files with you?"

"Yeah, sure, in my bag."

We loaded my files onto his laptop (which I coveted; I always had to go
home to work on my desktop machine, or deal with the possibility of some
asshole stealing an idea over my shoulder in the computer lab - which had
happened on a couple of occasions).  The first thing Carlos did was to lay
my designs over the top of his - it was immediately a mess.  As the
elements were repositioned, though, I could begin to see how it was going
to work.  We took turns at the mouse - shifting things here, resizing
others there - and it suddenly fell together.  I would never have believed
it.  We looked at each other, than back at our work, knew what we had, and
ran down to Kinko's.  The printouts were beautiful.  But we had a problem.
How were we going to pull this off in our class?  It was never expressly
said that we could not collaborate, but I guess we both just sort of
assumed that it wouldn't fly.  This would have to be a one-shot deal, if we
even got this one to pass.

In order to salvage our case, we started to print out our original files
before they were merged, and all the separate changes that Carlos had
obsessively saved.  We labeled them all as to who did what, and packed it
all together.

The next day we posted our finished piece.  Our teacher looked at all the
students' work hanging and then faced the class.  "One short.  Whomever did
not post a solution to the assignment will need to see me after class."

"Well, actually Mr. Browning, that one there - third from the left - both
Carlos and I worked on that."

Mr. Browning looked back at the board, then at Carlos, then at me.  "A
collaboration?  Who authorized a collaboration?"

"Well, sir," Carlos was starting to look nervous now, "We were looking at
each other's work - which was sort of, uh, in a rough state - and realized
that they might fit together.  Sort of."

"I see.  How, exactly, am I supposed to determine who did what on this?"

I jumped up with all the printouts.  "Well, sir, we realized that this
probably wouldn't work, but since I think we did come up with a nice piece
we printed out our original files and all the steps we took in putting it
together.  We each had a lot of input into this."

Mr. Browning shuffled dismissively through the printouts that I had dumped
on the table in front of him.  "I do not have time, nor does the rest of
the class, to sort through the steps you took.  We did that sort of thing
your second year.  Now I am interested in your finished product.  The way I
see it there is one project here, which I will not be grading.  You will
both come up with a new solution for a new book and will have your
*individual* solutions in class tomorrow.  Better cancel any plans you had
for tonight; I will not accept a one-hour job.  Oh, and by the way, you
will both need to see me after class.  Now.  Let's take a look at Sally's
piece..."

"Sir?"

"What now, John?"

"What book?"

"See me after class."

Carlos and I exchanged a few displeased looks, but frankly he could have
been a lot harder on us about it than he was.  He could have failed us
altogether.  I was not looking forward to my night, though - if he gave us
a book I hadn't read I would have to at least dig around on the 'net until
I gathered enough information to proceed on a design.  I had already tried
to go into an assignment "cold", and Mr. Browning had ripped me limb from
limb for it.  Lord knows if Carlos hadn't read it (which was more than
likely) I would have to spend at least a little time catching him up on it.

At 11:30 the rest of the class was free to leave, but Carlos and I remained
in our seats like a couple of ten-year olds who had been caught passing
notes.

"Well, first of all I would like to point out that I think that the work
that you two showed today was remarkable.  There were definitely a few
areas that were a bit underdeveloped, as I'm sure you know I would have
pointed out." (We did.)  "I can see your attention to detail, Carlos,
sticking out from the landscape that John created for it to swim around in.
Despite what I said, it is very clear to me who did what here."

"But... then..." I stammered.

"But that is all beside the point!" he blurted out, giving me a glare.
"You are here to learn your trade individually.  Once you have mastered
your weak areas, which you clearly have not, then you may work with
whomever you please.  For now, you will be turning in individual
assignments."

'Fine', I thought, 'but that doesn't mean we can't talk to each other
outside of class, and you'd never know the difference.'

"I suppose you are hatching a plan, Thayer, to continue to tap each other
for ideas."  I could feel the edge of a glow in my face as I looked
sheepishly up at him.  "I can see your wheels turning.  Never play poker,
John, you'll lose your shirt.  Do whatever you please, I can't stop you,
but keep in mind that I am quite familiar with each of your styles and will
be watching carefully."

I thought he was being a little rigid about all this, but I guess he had a
point.

"Now let me step out of professor mode for a moment.  Your individual work
complements each other quite well, and I think once you have refined your
techniques a bit more your collaborations could yield some amazing work.
You clearly work together well.  But I cannot allow this sort of thing in
my classes.  Next thing you know you have 14 students turning in 7
solutions, then they come to me complaining about one's doing more work
than the other, friends turn into enemies, it just, uh... it doesn't work,
alright?  I know damn well you will continue to pick each other's brains,
but for the sake of my class and your education please try to continue, for
now, doing your own work."

"Yes, sir," we muttered.

Suddenly Carlos piped up: "Oh, Mr. Browning, what book will we be working
on?"

Mr. Browning looked at Carlos with a sort of bemused look, then turned his
gaze at me.  Not taking his eyes away from mine, he said "Maurice.
E.M. Forster."  Mr. Browning's eyes seemed to dance just a little bit as he
stared at me for a moment longer than was really necessary.  "If you have
not read the book, there is a movie which isn't exactly faithful to the
text but is close enough for your purposes."  When he finally turned away I
could swear I heard him mutter, "This should be interesting."

Well, so much for not overplaying my hand.  A novel about a perpetually
repressed and hung-up gay man who eventually falls for a
rough-around-the-edges but sincere and easy to get along with guy from a
society other than his own.  Mr. Browning was much more perceptive than I
thought.  How on Earth was I going to get this past Carlos?  He would
certainly never have read the book, and it was unlikely that he'd seen the
movie.  He had a none-too-surprising disdain for any film with Merchant or
Ivory in the credits after having been dragged to Howard's End and The
Remains of the Day by an ex-girlfriend.  Most of the time, I really
couldn't blame him.

"Have you read 'Maurice'?" Carlos asked me as we shuffled down the hall.

"No," I lied, "but I think I saw part of the movie once on cable or
something."

"What was it about?"

"Oh, you know, it was a Merchant-Ivory movie.  British people, lush
countryside, slow moving..."

"Shit.  But what was it about?"

"Uh, from what I remember there was a guy who had a friend from school and
he visited him and his wife at this big estate somewhere..." I had
described about .1% of what happened in the story.  "I really don't
remember much about it."

"Okay, well, let's go rent it and figure out what we're in for."

"Well, why don't you go ahead and I'll see you tomorrow."  I really didn't
want to get into this now.  I really didn't know what Carlos' take on
homosexuality was, although I had never heard him make any disparaging
remarks about gay men or lesbians.  Now was really not the time to find
out.  "I have to get on the 'net and prowl around for some info."  Or more
accurately, retrieve my well-thumbed copy from somewhere in my closet.

"Yeah, so, why don't you come over?  You look through the web on my
computer, I'll watch the movie, we'll compare notes.  You know, like we did
for that 'Moby Dick' assignment."  I shuddered.  How many more weird turns
can this day take?  Here Carlos was talking about dick.  Well, sort of.
Clearly I was panicking.

"Well, no, I'll want to start on the assignment, and you'll want to work on
yours, so your computer will be tied up, and..." I already knew what his
answer was.

"So?  Use Jose's.  He won't be around."

I knew it.  Jose was Carlos's roommate, a graduate student in photography
and a couple of years older than me and Carlos.  Not a bad guy, generally
very friendly, but there was something strange about him that I couldn't
put my finger on.  He was one of those people that you got the impression
knew more about everything than he was really letting on.  I figured it was
the endless amount of analysis they did during critiques in grad school.
My defense mechanisms always went up like steel walls whenever he was
around.  If they admired some chick on TV, I admired right along with them.
If anything coming anywhere near the topic of homosexuality came up, I
acted absent-minded like the topic wasn't really very interesting to me.
There was no way I wanted to let on about anything to that guy.  I'd be in
deep shit.

"Well, I dunno Carlos..."

"Good.  You go watch your cartoons" - he'd never let me off the hook about
the history of animation class I was taking, which he thought was a waste
time - "I'll rent the movie, and be at my place when you're done."  He took
off before I could protest.

After spending an hour and a half learning about Oskar Fischinger's
contributions to the world of animation, I got on the subway and headed out
to Carlos' place.  When he opened the door I could already smell that he
had been smoking it up a little bit, which I had a firm rule about never
indulging in when I had work to do.

"Hit?" was how he greeted me.

"Not until I have this layout done, which you would be wise to wait for
yourself."

"Oh, come on, if I have to watch some sprawling British epic I can't do it
straight."  Ugh.  What a choice of words.  "Oh, you know what..." Here it
comes.  "This movie was in the gay and lesbian section.  It's about some
gay guy.  Did you know that?"

"Uh, no.  I only saw a little bit of the movie, and it was a long time
ago..." I distracted myself with starting up Jose's computer.  Secretly I
was glad that I got to work on it.  It was much faster than mine and had a
huge monitor that let me see my whole layout without scrolling around all
the time.  I just hoped that Jose wasn't really going to be around - he's
always nice about letting me use it, but watches me suspiciously like I'm
going to try to slip his monitor out under my shirt.  "Jose's not here,
right?"

"I told you before.  He only watches you to try to steal your ideas.  He
likes your work."

"But he's a photographer, not a designer."

"So?  A good eye is a good eye, and his isn't.  He doesn't know how to
compose his shots, and tries to figure out why your layouts are always
perfectly balanced."

"Sure."  I was skeptical, but quickly forgot about it as I started pulling
my layout together.  Ideas had been coming to me all through my history
class, and I had sketched out a few thoughts in idle moments.  After about
half an hour I looked over at Carlos.  He was watching the TV in a kind of
dazed intently, but he usually looked like that when he was stoned out of
his mind.  "How's the movie?"

"Oh, not too bad, but boring, and this guy is a wimp, and his friend is an
asshole.  Anything good on the web?"  Oops.  Hadn't even bothered launching
a browser.  I immediately started rattling away about things I already
knew, trying to keep a grip while Carlos stripped off his shirt in an
effort, presumably, to get more comfortable.  It was kind of hot, now that
I thought about it.

"Oh, yeah, a few abstracts and uh..." - I was temporarily distracted as he
leaned forward to pull his shirt over his head and I got a look at his
stunningly beautiful back - "... a couple of reviews.  Two gay guys fall
for each other then one figures out he's actually straight.  Other guy gets
nutty and tries to 'fix' himself.  Eventually finds a guy..."

"Wait!  Don't tell me.  I'm not there yet.  You're going to spoil it."

"Whatever."  I went back to my work, moving things around here and there.
I was almost there, but there was something wrong - I wasn't paying enough
attention to the smaller details, which was just how I got myself into this
new assignment in the fir-

"WHO THE HELL SAID YOU COULD USE MY COMPUTER?"  I jumped so bad that my
knee hit the bottom of the desk and I felt immediate pain.

Bastards.  Carlos was doubled over on the couch laughing his fool head off.
Jose was standing halfway down the hall with a wide grid oh his face,
having crept out from his bedroom while I was deep in thought about the
assignment.  Those two assholes had no doubt orchestrated this just to
watch me squirm.

"I take a nap for a few hours, and nervous boy here is playing with my
computer and my roommate is watching some boring movie about gay
Englishmen.  What has the world come to?"

"Hi Jose," I muttered, nursing my knee.  "Carlos said it was okay and..."

"Oh, don't get crazy.  I don't mind.  It lets me steal all your ideas.  Oh,
and by the way Carlos - no eye, huh?  How'd you like me to arrange it so
*you* have no eye?"

"Oh, relax, Jose.  I had to tell him something so he'd stop thinking that
you were going to come in and watch him work."

"I just might do that.  Nah, too boring.  See you guys later, I'm going
out.  Enjoy your evening.  Don't let the movie give you any ideas."  Yeah,
right.  That'd be the day.

With that he was out the door, and to be honest I was more than relieved.
He really was a nice guy, but most of the time he was in this headstrong
mode, trying to keep everyone on their toes.  It made me nervous.  Not to
mention that I was now free to let my gaze wander over to Carlos whenever I
felt like it without having to watch out for Jose.

Eventually, the movie ended and I was about 80% done with my layout.  It
was coming along pretty well; perhaps I was inspired by the sight of Carlos
lying their wearing just his shorts.  He got up and stood behind me to look
over what I had done.  "Not bad... but why don't you try..."

"No!  Carlos.  Not on this one.  I want this one to be free of each other's
influence.  Mr. Browning will be inspecting our layouts very closely, and
he doesn't miss a single detail.  Believe me."

"Why are you so worried about Browning all of a sudden?"

"He's a smart man.  He catches more than you think, and - oh, I don't know,
ask me again sometime."

"Well, anyway, I guess I should get started on mine."

I toiled away with the last details, saved it, and asked Carlos where the
weed was.  It was time to relax.  I rolled myself a joint, sat down in
front of the TV, and took a few hits.  It knocked me over almost
immediately.

It must have been some strong stuff, because the next thing I knew I was
laying down on the couch.  The door closed, and I figured Jose had just
come in, because I could hear the insistent clicking of the mouse as Carlos
continued to work on his assignment.

"So the lightweight is down for the count again, huh?" Jose whispered to
Carlos.

"Yeah, after about three hits he passed out."

"Just make sure he never does that with the joint in his hand.  If he burns
the place down, I'm coming after you."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Are you going to wake him up?  The subway will stop running soon, and we
both know he can't afford a cab."  What the hell did Jose know about my
money situation?  I was getting a little annoyed, but kept my mouth shut
and my eyes closed.

"Nah - you've seen how hard he can be to wake up, and he's not bothering
anything sleeping on the couch."

"Well, alright, but if he runs off with my computer in the middle of the
night it's on your head."

"You should stop saying things like that.  If he ever hears you he'll get
even more weirded out."

"Oh, he knows I'm kidding.  Don't worry about it, he's just neurotic.  Good
night."

"Good night."

As I lay there simmering about what Jose had said, I could hear Carlos
lightly talking to himself as he always does when he's working.  I could
never figure it out though, as he always slipped into Portuguese when he
did that.  Eventually he shut down the computer and padded off to his room.

I lay there wide awake, trying to decide if Jose was always just having a
laugh at my expense, or if he really meant any of the things that he said.
Am I really that neurotic?  Oh, of course I am, I'll give him that.  But
what was that crack about the cab for?  I could afford it, I just didn't
*want* to spend the money.  There's a big difference.  I had been saving up
to get a laptop, so that I wouldn't be bound to my desk or the computer lab
whenever I wanted to work.  Laptops aren't cheap!  I decided that I would
get up and take a cab home, just to prove my stupid little point.

As soon as I made that decision, I heard someone walking lightly down the
hall, so I stayed right where I was and closed my eyes.  I felt a light
blanket being lowered over me - well, that was thoughtful of Carlos.  It
was still a bit warm in the apartment, but the tiny air conditioner was
doing its job much better now that night had fallen.  I heard him whisper
"Good night, John" before he returned to his room.

The next morning I woke up to the smell of toast and coffee.  Jose was
sitting at the small table in the corner reading the paper and sipping
orange juice.  I got up and walked over to the table.  "Any coffee to
spare?"

"First my computer, now my coffee?  What next, you move in?"  I crumpled a
little bit, which he picked up on immediately.  "Will you please relax a
little bit?  I'm only joking with you.  I don't mean anything by it."

"I know, I know.  Don't mind me."

Eventually Carlos emerged and we all sat staring into space and waiting for
the coffee to kick in.  Finally Jose said, "By the way Carlos, are you
going to be around tonight?"

"No, I won't be here.  I'm going down to New York to hang with my brother
for the weekend."

"Ah.  You, John?  Will you be passing out on my couch again tonight?"

"Hardly.  I have some reading to catch up on, and..."

"Good.  Then the lovely Luisa and I will have the place to ourselves."

"Oh?  So you finally have a date?" Carlos asked.

"Screw you, hombre.  It hasn't been that long."

"No, just, let's see... since I moved in here almost two years ago?"

"Mind your own business.  I'm just busy.  And selective, unlike you."  Jose
was right. Carlos' taste was unbelievable.  The only date of his that I had
met was very pretty but completely brainless.  Even Carlos couldn't put up
with her past one date.

Something suddenly occurred to me when Jose said 'hombre'.  "You know, I
just noticed that you guys never speak Portuguese when I'm around.  I
appreciate that."

"Well, I don't speak it.  I'm not from Brazil - just him.  I'm from New
York, and my folks are from the Dominican Republic.  We speak Spanish.
We'd understand each other, sort of, but it's good practice for him, since
his English sucks."  Carlos made a big show of giving Jose the finger.
"See what I mean?  Besides, I think it's pretty rude to leave English
speakers out just because they don't speak the language."

"Well, thanks all the same.  I appreciate it."

We headed to class after getting all our work printed out at Kinko's.  I
liked Carlos' layout.  He seemed to have finally started paying attention
to the Big Picture and not just his fussy little details - I'm not sure
where he got the image, though.  There were three men.  One looking
aristocratic and aloof, presumably the Clive character.  The other also
looked distinguished, but a bit beaten as he looked sheepishly up towards
Clive's direction, although not directly at him.  Presumably Maurice.  In
the background, seeming to be walking towards Maurice was a rougher looking
character who Carlos had blurred just the slightest bit - it was the stable
groom Alec Scudder.  The whole thing was a bit overly symbolic, but worked
for a book cover.

"Where did you get the image?"

"Oh, that - I dug through Jose's stock photo books and pulled three
different ones together."

"Really?  Wow.  I wish I was that good at Photoshop."

"Oh, it's not hard.  You just have to practice."

We sat down in class and waited for Prof. Browning to ask us for our
pieces.  As the clock neared 11:30, it appeared that Prof. Browning had
completely forgotten about our work.  When the rest of the class was
dismissed, I looked over at Carlos.  He was desperate to catch the noon bus
to New York, and did not have a minute to spare.  I asked Prof. Browning,
"Sir?  Our assignments?"

"Oh, yes.  Leave them on my desk.  I will give them back to you on
Wednesday, and if there is any time in class we will critique them with the
group."

Carlos quickly threw down his project and packed up to go.  "I'll see you
later, John - I have to catch this bus."

"Alright, catch you later.  Have a good weekend in New York."

"Okay, bye."

I gathered together my things to leave and suddenly Prof. Browning asked,
"So.  John.  Interesting reading?"

"Umm, yes Prof. Browning.  I went and looked at it and it looked like I
could read the bulk of it in a few hours, so I did that instead of watching
the movie."

"And Carlos?"

"Carlos watched the movie.  Writers like Forster use a few too many words
that he doesn't know.  Usually he reads with a dictionary, but there was no
time for that last night."

"Yes.  Well.  I must be going.  I will be sure to look over your work this
weekend."

He strode out, leaving me holding my portfolio case and book bag.  What was
that all about?  I suppose it was better not to know too much about the
inner workings of a man like Prof. Browning's.  I know what he was alluding
to giving us that assignment, but I had no interest in letting any of my
teachers into my head.  They did enough of that when they were analyzing my
work.

The next week went by much as all the others do - reading, homework,
classes.  I didn't get much of a chance to hang out with Carlos, and was
kind of put out because he had apparently found a new brainless pretty face
to occupy his thoughts.  So, another weekend had rolled around and I had
nothing to do.  Carlos was out on his date and I wasn't quite sure what to
do with myself.  I was sick of reading and hiding in my apartment, so like
any self-destructive man, I went to my favorite pub and got fairly ripped
over the course of a few hours.  After sitting in a corner and ignoring
everyone in the place, I decided I'd had enough and wandered out into the
street.  I immediately concluded that I should pay Carlos a visit.  Either
he'd have his girl with him and tell me to call him tomorrow, or he'd be
drunk and bored and want to complain about how he didn't get any.  It was
these moments that usually played a big role in my fantasies.  Drunk,
bored, horny straight guy... who knows what could happen.  Usually it was
Jose waking me up and sending me on my way after Carlos and I had both
passed out in the living room, but you never know.  It was worth a shot.

I got to Carlos' apartment and rang the buzzer "Yeah?" came through the
little speaker.

"It's John."

"Come on up."

I got to his door, which was cracked open slightly.  "How's it goin',
Carlos?"

"Not Carlos" I heard Jose yell out from the kitchen.  Damn.  Their voices
sound exactly the same coming through that stupid intercom.  "Let me guess,
you're drunk."

"Oh, no," I slurred, "That's so unlike me."

"That's what I figured.  You only show up here on a Friday night when
you're drunk and bored.  I'll be right out."

"Where's Carlos?"

"Probably still plying his date with liquor.  Either he got lucky, or she's
stringing him along.  Chances are she's stringing him along, if she let him
talk at any point.  You know how he gets when he drinks too much."

"Yeah."

"And what about you?  Not out living it up tonight?"

"Did that part.  This is as good as it gets."

"Sounds depressing."  He emerged with a beer and a big glass of water.  "No
beer for you until you drink that water."

"Okay."  I sat and drank half the glass.  It was warm in the apartment.

"Correction.  Until you drink the water and half an hour has passed - I
don't want you throwing up anywhere."

"Oh, I won't, I promise."  Over the next forty-five minutes we made some
small chit-chat.  Jose went into the kitchen to replace his beer and refill
my glass of water.

"You know, Jose, it's awfully warm in here.  You think you could turn the
air conditioning on?"

"No.  I don't like it.  It smells bad and gives me a headache.  I only let
Carlos run it when he starts complaining too much."

"Oh."

"But you're right, it is hot in here.  I'll bring you a beer - I think
enough time has passed."

"Thanks."  He walked down the hall towards his bedroom and I took a look at
a few contact sheets of his photography that were on the coffee table.  I
looked over all of them, and was struck by how good his work was.  They
were images of alleys and city streets, shot all over the city at night.
The only lighting was from streetlights.  They were beautiful.  "I like
your work" I yelled down the hall.

"Thanks - I do too.  I was working on this cityscape theme, as you know,
but I couldn't really get it together until I started shooting at night.
Then everything started to make sense."

"Well, they're really great.  Do you have any larger prints of these?  I'm
not as drunk as I was, but I'm having a little trouble focusing."

"I'm not surprised.  Yeah, there's a few work prints in that box under the
coffee table."

I pulled the box out and looked them over.  They were certainly a vast
improvement over the few prints I had seen of his previous work - those all
looked like bad postcards.  Nice safe landscapes.  But these were different
- they had an edge.  I was impressed.  "How come Carlos says you have no
eye?"

I could hear Jose coming down the hall, but was still engrossed in the
prints.  "You really need to learn that we joke a lot around here."

As I continued to look over the prints Jose put my beer down on the coffee
table and then sat back down in his chair.  When I put his photographs back
down into the box and looked over at Jose I almost dropped the whole thing
on the floor.  He had stripped off completely to just this small pair of
black briefs.  I immediately looked back at the prints in what I imagined
was a subtle move - in hindsight, I highly doubt it.

"I brought you a clean T-shirt if you want it - I bet the one you're
wearing is a little sweaty.  Don't mind my casual dress.  Usually how I
deal with the heat."

"Oh, no, I don't care," I stammered, ignoring the shirt.  "I wanted to show
you which of your images I like... this one... and this one here..."  I
shuffled through the prints and occasionally looked back towards Jose lest
he pick up on the fact that I was trying to avoid looking at him.
Truthfully I had never imagined Jose sexually before.  I would never call
him ugly, but a few people who probably would.  He had suspicious eyes,
like he just did something wrong, and a rather large nose.  He also had an
unfortunate hairstyle that ventured dangerously close to a mullet, although
he never let it get very long in the back.

Looking over to him now though, he clearly showed off his assets when he
had as little clothing on as possible.  His chest was nicely developed but
not pumped.  A small patch of hair in the middle diminished as it followed
his stomach down over a hint of a six-pack and disappeared in a thin line
into his briefs.  His arms were similarly developed but not obsessed over,
ending in beautiful forearms that had a thin but noticeable coating of fine
black hair.  His hands, which I got a chance to inspect closely as I handed
prints to him, were strong and able-looking.

I continued to compliment his work and shuffle through his prints, trying
not to blow my cover.  Eventually, though, I had to let my eyes wander
downward so I could check out the rest of him.  I pointed to a number of
images on the contact sheets and then handed them to him.  As he inspected
them carefully and tried to decide if what I'd said about the unprinted
images was true, I snuck a few glances at everything below his waist.  His
legs were even better than Carlos' - longer, as he was about 5 inches
taller than Carlos, but with the same exquisite definition and amazing
layer of fine black hair.  I looked up at Jose's face again, and he was
engrossed in his images, looking through a loupe to see them better.  I
chose that moment to steal a long look at his crotch.  It was unbelievable.
He was hiding something big back there.  Too bad I'd never get a chance to
find out what.

As I stared transfixed, I heard Jose speak.  "Umm, John?"

"Yeah?"  Shit.  Had I blown it?

"Well, I tried to give you the hint with that shirt there, but you missed
it.  Why don't you go shower?  You reek of a mix of beer and sweat.  Kind
of unpleasant - no offense."

I was horrified, but also fairly relieved that he hadn't caught me
attempting to memorize every detail of his beautiful form.  "Oh, no, none
taken, I'll be right back.  Thanks for telling me."

"There's a clean towel behind the door."

"Thanks."  I grabbed the shirt and headed for the bathroom.  As I closed
the door and turned on the water I fought the urge to masturbate.  I always
thought it was sort of tacky to jerk off in someone else's bathroom.
Instead I stepped into the tub and let the cool water flow over me.  It
felt pretty good, and helped to snap me out of some of my leftover drunken
stupor.  When I finally turned the water off I stepped out and looked at
the shirt.  It was one of those goofy "I'm not as think as you drunk I am"
shirts that Carlos had given him.  Cute.  I threw it on and walked out to
the living room.  The smell of weed hit me as soon as I entered the room.

"Hit?" Jose asked.

"Sure.  Oh, nice shirt."

"Thought you'd like it.  I figured if you threw up on it I wouldn't care -
I never wear it anyway."

"I didn't imagine you would.  And I haven't thrown up since I was a kid.
Made an ass of myself, maybe, but not throw up."  I sat down and took the
joint from him.

"Made an ass of yourself?  You?"

"Oh, knock it off."

"Only two hits for you.  I don't want you passing out on my couch again."

"Don't worry about it.  So, are you going to print any of those others that
I showed you?"  I took one hit and then passed the joint back to him.

"Yeah.  I circled a few of them.  These here - how big do you think they
should be printed?"  He handed the contact sheets over to me.

"Oh, 16x20.  Or 20x24, if you can.  They should be very large."

"Are you sure?"  He took a hit and passed the joint back.  "I was kind of
thinking delicate little prints.  They look pretty good small, don't they?
Besides, I have to use a really fast film.  The grain would be enormous at
that size.  Oh, you want another beer?"

"Uh... yeah sure.  But that's what would be so great - the grain would make
it look really, well gritty, for lack of a better word.  You should try it,
anyway."

"Try it?  You know how much photo paper that size costs?  You design geeks
are so lucky.  You sit at your little computers and then get your
seventy-five cent print-outs at Kinko's."

"Oh yeah?  You know how much QuarkXpress costs?"

"Yes, I do, and you use my copy more than you use your own.  I should
charge a fee."

"Oh, I do not."  He brought in my beer and a fresh glass of water and sat
down.

"Leave that joint alone.  You've had enough."  He was right.  I was now
floating, and took only the slightest sip of my beer and a big gulp of
water.

"So, Jose, what were you up to tonight - where's, uh... what's-her-name."

"Who?"

"You know, that date you had last week.  Not go so well with - uh - Luisa?"

"Oh... yeah.  Well, she cancelled and that was the end of it.  I wasn't all
that interested anyway."

"Oh.  Well."  I didn't really know what to say next.  The conversation,
such as it was, had stalled.

"Listen... John..."

"Uh, pardon me a moment.  I have to go take care of some business in the
bathroom."

"Yeah.  Sure.  I'm gonna get myself another beer.  You all set?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm taking my time with that one."

"Good."

After I had come back from the bathroom I sat down and regarded Jose, still
sitting in his chair but this time looking pensive.  "So," I asked, "you
were saying?" and took a swig of my beer.

"John, can I ask you a personal question?"

"Well, sure.  Doesn't mean I'll answer it though."

"Fair enough.  Uh... you have an interest in Carlos, don't you."  It was a
statement, not a question.  I panicked.

"What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean.  You - want - Carlos.  Don't you?"

"Oh, uh... ha ha..." I was getting really nervous now.  He seemed a bit too
serious, almost angry.  "No.  What gave you that idea?"

"John.  Give me a break.  I've seen you analyze the shape of his ass you're
dissecting a great painting."

He was right.  Just the thought of it was getting to me even now, but there
was no way I was going to let him know that.  "Knock it off, Jose.  I may
not have a lot of friends, and hang around Carlos a lot, but that doesn't
mean..."

"Oh, for God's sake, John.  You're not a good liar..."  He jumped up, moved
over to the couch, and leaned in close.  Suddenly his hand darted out and
copped a feel of my crotch, which was hard as a rock from the combination
of Jose's near naked form and the thought of Carlos' rear end.  Busted.  I
jumped up and headed for the door.

"Thought so.  Your body betrays your words.  Wait!"  He swiftly moved and
stood between me and the door.  "Why won't you just trust me?"

I snapped.  "Why the hell should I trust you?  You're always picking on me
about being nervous or money or something..."

"Money?  When did I pick on you about money?"

"Last week, that little crack you made to Carlos about not being able to
afford a cab.  Thanks a lot, Mr. 'Trust Me'.  Didn't think I was awake did
you?"

"Oh my God... you're worked up about that?  I wasn't making any remarks
about your financial situation.  I know you're saving your money..."

"Yeah, well, anyway.  I don't need to be grilled about my personal business
by some big half-naked guy blocking my path.  I'm outta here."

"I'm sorry.  I'll dress, but please stay.  I didn't mean to get you all
angry.  I just thought maybe you would open up to me a little bit."

"Oh, really?  And this was your way of going about it?  Why couldn't you
just talk to me?"

"Would you have said anything?"

"Well..."

"No, you wouldn't have.  I thought maybe if I shook you up a little bit I
could get you to be honest with me, and then I would know for sure if..."

"Know if what?"

"If I ever had a chance with you."

"If you ever..."  Now I needed to sit down.  I stepped over to the couch
and sat down heavily.  "Oh my God."

"Last week.  Were you still awake when Carlos finished his assignment and
went to bed?"

"Yeah..."

"You thought it was him that put the blanket over you, didn't you."

I was starting to feel very stupid and very blind.  "Well, Yeah..."

"I would be shocked if Carlos remembered to put a blanket over himself,
never mind anyone else.  I did that.  I wanted to make sure you'd be
comfortable.  What I really wanted to do was invite you into my bed,
but..."

"But what?"

"But I knew you were holding out for Carlos."

"Oh my God, Jose.  Okay.  You want to hear the truth?  Fine.  Yes.
Everything you have said is true.  But this is not easy stuff for me, you
know?  Dealing with Carlos and you and... and being gay and...

"You think I don't know that?  Try growing up Hispanic and gay in the
Bronx.  Not exactly the most supportive community."

"I can't even imagine.  So.  Umm... you're very attractive, but could you
please get dressed now?  You're making me nervous."

"Nervous?  You don't say.  I guess there's hope after all."  I laughed.
The tension had been broken.  But where did this go from here?  "I'll
dress, but on one condition.  Can I come sit by you?"

"Jose..."

"Look.  Point blank.  I think you're pretty great.  A little neurotic, but
a good guy and someone I want to get close to.  Will you let me?  Are you
at all interested in me?"

"Well, I'd never thought about it before.  I guess I was too busy staring
at Carlos."  He had a sad look on his face as he got up and headed down the
hall to his room.  "But, umm, yeah... I guess... I mean, I like you Jose -
I just never talked to you much because... uh - wait a minute!  What was
all that shit about Luisa?  And cracking jokes about us having to work on
'Maurice' and..."

"A test.  You fell for it.  Any time either of us brings up women you get
this vacant look on your face and then change the subject - I just wanted
to see how you'd react."  He had put on some shorts and a T-shirt and was
coming back to the living room.  "You usually look crippled when Carlos
mentions a date.  I wanted to see what you'd do if I mentioned one."

"And?"

"Well, it wasn't quite as dramatic a response as I had hoped for, but I
don't give up easy."

"Oh."

"So can I join you now, or not?"

"Uh, I guess so."

"Good enough for me" and with that he sat down in the middle of the couch,
not crowding me, but close.  He reached out to take just the tips of my
fingers in his hand.  It felt nice.  "Let me ask you this, John, when you
think about the love of your life, what do you imagine a nice moment to
be?"

"Jose, look.  This is a little weird.  You ambush me with your
accusations..." his eyebrows went up as if to say 'was I wrong?'  "Which
were true, fine, but it was still an ambush."

"I apologize."

"Fine.  I'm not worried about that, even though, I mean, it was kind of
rude.  But now, well, what do you want me to say?  Sure, you can be the
love of my life?  Come on, Jose.  We've chatted and all, but I don't know
very much about you, and you know very little about me."

"But you would have said yes to anything that Carlos had proposed... had he
proposed anything, right?  Even the first day you met him, am I wrong?"
Damn, he had me there, and I know it was all over my face.  "You should
know better than to fall for a pretty face.  Come on, could you ever really
love anyone who gave you a T-shirt as stupid as the one you're wearing
now?"

I had to laugh at that.  He was right.  "Oh, he means well..."

"I know that.  But, in the end, I don't think Carlos is really what you
want.  He still has an awful lot of growing to do - stuff that you've
mostly gotten past.  He was always the baby in his family.  You know, three
older brothers and all.  He never had to worry about himself until he came
here.  He's still not sure what to do with himself."  Jose paused for a
little bit, and then said, "So please, tell me, what is it that you want
from Your Man?"  He said the last two words dramatically, like some
melodramatic soap opera.  He was wearing me down, sitting there grinning
like an idiot.  It was true that I had fallen for Carlos for all the wrong
reasons, and here was someone who was willing to talk about feelings and
motivations and all of the things that I knew would bore Carlos and leave
the conversation at a standstill every time.

"Oh, Jose.  You know, I bet I could find myself falling for you pretty
easily.  So.  Your question?  Well... no, you'll think it's stupid."

"No!  Please tell me."

"Well, all I ever really wanted was to fall asleep with my head on
someone's shoulder.  That's all."

"Really?  Well, that's easy enough.  I was half afraid you'd say something
like watersports..."

"Oh, please.  Don't think so."

"Well, come here then."  I moved a bit closer and let my head rest on his
left shoulder.  He pulled closer to me and took my right hand in his left.
We sat that way for a long time.  I could hear his heartbeat.  I was still
a bit confused, but rapidly approaching real happiness.

"Jose?"

"Yes?"

"Don't test me anymore, with the ambush and the little stories about
mysterious girlfriends... just say what's on your mind."

"I had to get you talking somehow.  Okay, I'll stop with the tests, just as
long as you stop being so neurotic, thinking I'm picking on you.  I only
like to joke, that's all."

"Alright."  We wiggled around a little bit so that we had as much contact
between our bodies as possible.  Gradually Jose fell asleep, then I must
have as well.  The next thing I heard was keys in the door.  I moved to get
up to prevent an uncomfortable scene with Carlos, but Jose grabbed my hand
and held it tight.

"He's going to find out anyway.  Now's as good a time as any."  I wasn't
sure of that myself, but decided that if I was going to trust Jose I may as
well start now.

The door opened and Carlos bellowed "I'm home!" and his voice suddenly cut
off.  He must have spotted us on the couch.  "Well, well.  What do we have
here.  Maurice and Scudder."  I was aghast.  I know Carlos isn't stupid,
but I never thought he would regurgitate something like that.

"Who?" Jose muttered.

"You know, that movie - Maurice, the pent-up little nervous guy, and
Scudder, the low-class stable boy that he falls for."

"Low-class stable boy?  You'll pay for that.  Speaking of low class, where
is your date?"

"At home throwing up.  She was an idiot, getting too drunk and acting
stupid.  So, what have you two been up to?  Wait, I don't want to know."

"Keep it clean, Carlos.  We were just leaving."  Jose unwound himself from
me and got up.  I stretched and headed to the bathroom.  After I closed the
door behind me I heard Carlos say rather loudly "So - did you have have to
feel him up to get him to talk?"

I rushed out of the bathroom and found them both staring at me with wide
grins.  "You. Are. Both. Evil. Bastards!"

"Oh, relax John.  Jose told me to say that when you headed to the bathroom.
We joke a lot around here - haven't you figured that out yet?"

"You are still both evil bastards.  I'm going to sleep."  I headed for the
couch and started bunching up a pillow to rest my head on.  I looked back
at Jose and Carlos - both of their faces had dropped.  Jose started
stammering.

"But... I thought... I mean... I'm sorry, I was only kidding John..."

I broke into a grin.  "Would you guys relax?  Can't you take a joke?"

Jose breathed a sigh of relief.  Carlos started to shake his head.  "Oh,
great.  He's been trained.  Now he is going to try to get us back, every
chance he can get."

"Yeah, but he's a rookie.  He can't beat us."

I gave them a cold stare.  "We'll see.  Jose.  Would you excuse us for a
second?"

His eyebrows went up for a second, then he said "Yeah.  Sure.  You know
where to find me."  I watched him walk down the hall, and when he was out
of Carlos' line of sight he turned around and mouthed, "You. Are Mine."
then grinned and disappeared into his room.

I turned my attention to Carlos.  "So, uh, Carlos.  Are you okay with all
of this?  I mean, did you know, uh... did you... I mean... did Jose say
that he..."

"Was gay?  No.  He is a pretty private person, but started asking me a lot
of questions about you as soon as you were hanging around.  I thought
something was up.  But you, you aren't very subtle.  You've been giving me
the eye since I first stepped onto campus."

"Oh... umm.  Well."

"Don't worry about it.  I'm flattered, and I don't mean to sound like some
ego guy but I'm used to it.  My mother used to tell me all the time that
I'd turn a lot of heads.  At first I thought she was just being a mother.
Then the heads started turning.  Anyway, I like you a lot, John, but..."

"I know.  So we're cool?"

"We're cool."  I turned to head down the hall.  "But John?"

"Yeah?"

"Come here."  I tentatively went back into the living room.  "I like Jose.
And I like you.  But you're both weird game players.  Don't play games with
each other.  You looked pretty cute there on the couch - it would suck if
either of you messed that up."

"Thanks Carlos.  I hope you find someone yourself."

"Well, I did learn one thing tonight - the pretty face, like that stupid
woman, or like me" - I had to roll my eyes at that - "is usually not the
right one.  You have to find an ugly mug like Jose to be happy."

"FUCK YOU, CARLOS!"

"I knew he was listening.  Good night, John."

"Good night, Carlos."

"I'D KEEP THE LIGHTS ON IF I WERE YOU, CARLOS!  REVENGE IS SWEET!"

"Go shut him up.  GOOD NIGHT, JOSE."

"SLEEP TIGHT, DEAD MAN!"

I shook my head and headed down the hall to Jose's room.  Closing the door
behind me, I turned and looked over at Jose.  He lifted the sheet up and
welcomed me to his bed.  I had always been a little too self-conscious for
my own good, but since he was back down to just his briefs I figured I
should at least match him.  I stripped down to my underwear.

"Wow.  You're in pretty good shape.  Why do you keep yourself all covered
up all the time?"

"Fear of skin cancer.  Okay, actually, I'm more self-conscious than I
probably should be.  But I do have to be careful with my skin.  Ever seen
dermabrasion?  My father had it.  He looked like somebody dragged his face
across the pavement"

"Well, we'll have to keep you under the sheets then.  Come here."  I
climbed in next to him.  He rolled onto his back and pulled me tight to his
left side, letting me rest my head on his shoulder.  "You think we've got a
chance, John?"

"You pull me close to you like that as often as you can?  I think we've got
a shot."

"I like you John.  I'm glad you're next to me."

"I like you too, Jose.  Thanks for having me here."

"You're welcome.  Good night."

"Good night."

He put his left arm around my shoulder and pulled me in tight.  I took his
right hand and intertwined my fingers with his.  I fell asleep listening to
his heartbeat.

-----

That's the end of part one.  The naughty bits are coming in part two, I
promise.  I am tidying it up and will post it soon.  It gets even hotter in
part three, which at the moment is in rough draft form.  Had to set up the
characters and scenario first. Comments welcomed and encouraged.  Send to:
brenclar@yahoo.com