"Blizzard"  Copyright 1997 by Mathis B. Rogers

This is a Gay Adult Story.  If you are not 18/21 or over, then it 
is against the law for you to read this story.  This is pure fiction, 
and none of the characters or places are real.  Any resemblances of 
such is purely coincidental.  Any comments or constructive criticism 
is welcome.
Send them via email to Mathis B. Rogers <mathis@mathisbrogers.com>

                            Blizzard
                               By
                        Mathis B. Rogers
                         Copyright 1997

     I opened my eyes to darkness.  I couldn't even make out any
shadows in the darkness.  The pain above my right eye was a dull
throb.  I had no idea what had happened or where I was.
     "Tracy, are you okay, Honey?" I heard a deep voice next to me
ask, worriedly.
     I tried to turn my head to the left to see who had spoken. 
Was I supposed to be Tracy?  "No, don't move," he said.  
     "My head hurts," I managed to say, reaching up to feel my
forehead.  A strong hand grasped my arm, preventing me from
touching it.
     "Don't.  You're bleeding pretty bad.  I'm going to see if I
can slide you out of the car.  We've got to get out of here before
we both freeze to death, but I'll see if I can stop the bleeding
first."
     "Okay," I said.
     I heard a cloth rip, then felt the pressure as he wrapped
something around my head.  "Not to tell you your business," I said,
"but wouldn't you be able to see better if you turned the light
on?"
     "Oh no," he gasped.
     "What's wrong?" I asked, worriedly.
     "Don't worry about it, Babe," he replied, softly.  I heard
something click, then felt warm strong arms lift me out of my seat. 
"Lay your head on my shoulder," he said.
     As my forehead continued to throb, I let my head relax onto
his broad shoulder.  It felt good for him to hold me the way he
was.  A moment later, he sat me down and I heard the same click I
had before he picked me up.
     "It's starting to snow again," he said.  "We're not going to
be able to make it to the hospital.  I'll have to take you up to
the cabin.  Is there anything in your car you need?"
     "I don't know," I admitted.
     "Okay, I'll go check and will be right back," he said.  I felt
warm lips touch my cheek.  He closed the door and I leaned my head
back on the head rest.  Pain ripped through my head and I sat up
with a jolt.  A grey fog had rolled in and everything was blurry,
but I was able to make out a handsome young man about six foot
tall, open the trunk of a midnight blue Ford Tempo that had been
smashed into the side of a cliff.  It looked like the driver had
lost control and ran into it.  I wondered who had been driving that
car and if the driver had been hurt.  Surveying the area, I didn't
see anyone around but the guy who removed a suitcase from the truck
of the wrecked vehicle.  I supposed he was the one who had put me
in the pickup I was sitting in, but I had no idea who he was.
The stranger leaned into the driver's side of the car and came out
with a brown object with a cord on it.  I couldn't make out what it
was.
     He put the suitcase in the back of the pickup I was in and
climbed in.  "Luckily you had a cell phone and some cloths.  Where
were you going, Tracy?" he asked.
     I blinked and looked at him blankly.  He frowned.  "You can
see now?" he asked, hopefully.
     "Yes," I replied.  "But my head still hurts."
     "I'm glad you can see," he said, plugging the cord from the
cellular phone into the cigarette lighter.  The cell phone was the
brown object I couldn't make out earlier.  He pressed four buttons
on the cell phone and held it up to his ear.
     "So you don't know where you were going?" he asked, as he
waited for someone to answer on the other end.
     "No," I replied as he started the pickup.
     "Hi, this is Mike Spears," he said into the instrument.  "I'm
out on Old Holler Road.  My friend Tracy Wilson just had an
accident.  He hit ice and smashed into Holler's Peak. . . No, Sir,
he had his seat belt on but the front of his car is smashed in and
he hit his head on the windshield.  He's bleeding pretty bad and
has a major headache.  I don't think he needs stitches.  He woke up
blind, but has regained his sight.  I've got a bandage around his
head, but it's still bleeding and I need to change it pretty soon.
     "It's starting to snow pretty hard here," he continued, "I
don't think I can get him into town and you might not be able to
get out here, either.  I've got a cabin a couple of miles up the
road that I was heading for; I can get him to it and will be able
to keep him warm until someone can get out to get him, or I can get
him into town. . . Yes, Sir, I have already moved him out of the
car.  He's here in the pickup with me now.  He's not hurting
anywhere except his head."  Turning to me he asked, "What's your
cell number, Tracy?"
     "I don't know," I replied.  So, I was supposed to be Tracy
Wilson and I had been the driver of that car.
     "He doesn't remember," he said into the phone.  "Okay, just a
sec."  He pressed a few buttons on the phone then read the number
he got from the display to the emergency dispatch operator.
     "Okay, thanks.  I'll get him to my cabin.  This is his cell
phone and there is a battery with it, so we'll keep it on and wait
for a doctor to call."
     Mike sighed and hung up.  "We'd better get out of here," he
said, laying the phone on the seat between us.
     Mike's pickup fish-tailed a little as he started off.  "Whoa,
that's the ice that sent you into Holler's Peak," he said,
regaining control of the vehicle.
     "Where would I have been going?" I asked, softly as he
concentrated on the road ahead.
     "I don't know, Babe," he admitted.  "When we get to the cabin,
you can call your parents and let them know you're with me.  Since
you're so close to them, you probably called them before you left
home and they'll know."
     "I hope so," I replied. 
     We made the remainder of the trip in silence.  I didn't tell
him that I didn't know who I was, or who he was.  Mike's cabin sat
nestled in a clump of trees that had shed their leaves for the
winter, away from the highway at the end of a long winding narrow
dirt road that was now covered in snow. 
     Mike pulled to a stop as close to the front porch as he could
get, before hopping out and rushing around to open the door for me. 
He undid my seat belt and I heard the same click I had heard when
he got me out of my car and when he put me in the pickup.
     "Maybe I'd better carry you in," he suggested.  "You might
pass out if you try to walk."
     "Okay," I agreed.  I didn't mind him holding me.  His warm
body was all that kept my mind off the throbbing pain in my head. 
He had said we were friends.  Even through the pain, I wondered
just how good of friends we were and hoped we were "very close",
because I found him very attractive.  And, he did keep calling me
Honey and Babe.  Surely he wouldn't call me that if we weren't
"really" close, would he?
     He picked me up and shut the pickup door with his elbow and
carried me to the front porch.  He stood me up and I kept my arm
around him while he unlocked and opened the door.  He carried me
into the small cabin.  To the left of the door was a double bed and
to the right was a small kitchenette.  The rooms were separated by
a breakfast bar that had three bar stools in front of it.  There
was no dining table.  One door at the back of the cabin led into a
bathroom and the other door, which was in the kitchen, went out
onto the back porch.  A large stone fireplace stood next to the
bathroom door.  The cabin was small enough that the one fireplace
would keep it warm as long as the bathroom door stayed open.
     Mike lay me down on the bed.  "I'll get a fire going and bring
our stuff in," he said.
     "Okay," I replied, sitting up.
     He left and returned a moment later with an armload of
firewood.  It didn't take him long to get a fire blazing in the
hearth.
     When he returned with our suitcases, he bent down in front of
me and removed my shoes.  "As soon as it warms up in here," he
said, "I'll get you undressed and in bed."
     I leaned forward and put my hand on his shoulder.  He was
wearing a heavy sheep skin jacket.  Blood dripped off my forehead
and splattered onto my leg, soaking into my jeans.
     "I'd better change that," he said, standing up.
     He disappeared into the bathroom for a moment and returned
with a first aide kit.  "Luckily I've got everything we'll need in
here," he said.  
     He removed the makeshift bandage from my head and threw it in
a trash can beside the bed.  "This will sting," he said.  Covering
my eyes with his warm hand, he sprayed something from a can on the
cut on my forehead.  I flinched as the cold liquid hit the cut and
burned.
     "Ouch," I gasped.  "That burns."
     "Sorry, Hon," he said, softly.  "It will stop in a minute. 
It'll also stop the bleeding.  It's a liquid bandage, but I will
still wrap it up.  The liquid bandage will keep it from getting
infected."
     "That's good," I said as the burning began to subside.  "But
I still have a headache."
     "I'll give you something for that as soon as the doctor
calls," he said.
     Mike took a roll of gauze out of the first aide kit and a pair
of scissors.  I watched him make a large patch and cut it into a
square.  He sprayed it with an antiseptic spray.  "I'm going to put
this on your cut," he explained.  "I want you to hold it while I
wrap your head up, okay?"
     "Okay," I replied.
     "Good thing it's not deep enough that you need stitches," he
said, pressing the gauze patch against my head; I flinched.  "It's
okay," he said, softly.  "Just hold it there."
     I held it while he wrapped the gauze around my head.  He used
some medical tape and taped the end down.  "There," he said.  "That
should hold until we can get you to a doctor."
     "Thank you, Mike," I said, softly.  "I don't know what I would
have done if you hadn't come along."
     He smiled at me, "I'm thankful that I came around the corner
just as you plowed into the peak," he said.  "I almost decided to
wait until this storm passed before coming out here, but I'm off
this week and figured it might be nice to be snowed in up here by
myself."
     "You couldn't get your girlfriend to come with you?" I asked
as he replaced everything in the first aide kit.
     He stopped what he was doing, looked at me and frowned. 
"Girlfriend?" he asked.  "Honey, you must have hit your head harder
than I thought.  You know I don't have a girlfriend."
     He searched my face with his deep blue eyes.  I melted into
them.  He squinted as he looked at me.  "You don't have the
foggiest idea who you are, do you?" he asked.
     I blushed and looked down at my hands; I still had my black
gloves on.  He took my hands in his and I looked up into those
pools of blue.  "It's nothing to be embarrassed about," he said. 
"You must have amnesia."  He pulled my gloves off and lay them on
the dresser underneath the window that overlooked the front yard. 
He unzipped my black leather coat and eased it off of me.  He hung
it on the coat rack beside the door.
     "Come on, let's get you in bed, then I'll call your parents. 
They can tell us where you were going.  Maybe hearing their voice,
will bring back memories and you'll snap out of the amnesia."
     I didn't say anything.  I let him unbutton my shirt and slip
it off.  He threw it over one of the bar stools.  "I'm surprised
you didn't mess yourself when you ran into that cliff," he said,
unfastening my belt and easing my jeans off.  "But you were always
the one who could make himself go to the bathroom before going
anywhere and you would have only been ten minutes from home," he
added, tossing my jeans over onto another stool.
     He pulled me to my feet and held me against him with one arm
while he pulled the cover back on the bed.  "These sheets are
clean," he said.  "Mom and Dad were up here last weekend and Mom
said she changed them before they left."
     I crawled in between the sheets and he pulled the comforter up
to my shoulders.  He unbuttoned his sheep skin jacket and removed
it.  He wasn't wearing a shirt.  "Where's your shirt?" I asked,
admiring his muscular smooth body.  The only hair he had on his
body was under his arms and a thin trail that started at the base
of his navel and disappeared into his tight blue jeans.
     "I had to use it to wrap your head up," he replied, taking his
boots off.
     "Oh, I'm sorry," I said.  "I'll get you a new one."
     "Don't worry about it," he said.  "I've got plenty."
     Leaving his jeans on, he picked up the cell phone from the
counter as it rang.  "Hello?" he said.
     "Oh good, Dr. Brown," he continued.  "Thanks for calling. 
I've got it bandaged and he's in bed now. . .Oh?  Why not?. .
.Okay, that makes sense.  He's got amnesia, too. . . I put some
liquid bandage on it," he looked over at me, "I can't see any blood
right now.  I don't know if it stopped or not, but it hasn't bled
through the bandage yet."
     They talked for a few minutes longer and then Mike said,
"Okay, thanks again for calling.  I'll get him in as soon as this
storm lets me."
     Mike hung up and lay the phone on the table beside the bed. 
"I sure am glad you had that phone.  We don't have one here and
we'd be in big trouble if you didn't."
     He went into the bathroom and returned a moment later with a
couple of pills and a paper cup of water.  "Here, Dr. Brown said
you can take these," he said.
     I sat up and took them with the water.  He tossed the paper
cup in the trash can with his bloody shirt, when I finished.  I
watched him remove his jeans and wondered if I'd ever been inside
those tight, white cotton briefs he wore.  They didn't do much to
hide the bulge that strained to get out.  I wondered again if we
were we lovers?  But if we were, wouldn't he have known where I was
going?
     He added another log to the fire and crawled into bed beside
me.  "Turn over," he instructed.  I rolled over onto my right side
with my back to him and put his arm around me.  Placing his cheek
against mine, he said,  "Dr. Brown said you have to stay awake for
a while.  He's afraid that if you go to sleep, you might loose
consciousness again."
     "I guess I'd better get up then," I said, rubbing his warm
arm.
     "It's still too cold to get up," he said.  He rolled over and
picked up my cell phone.  "I guess you don't remember what your
parent's number is, do you?"
     "No," I replied, turning over to face him.
     He pressed a couple of buttons on the phone.  "You have some
numbers stored in memory," he explained.  "I guess I can try them
all until I find your parents.  Number one is nine-one-one."
     "Okay," I said.  "Have you ever met my parents?"
     "No," he replied, pressing two more buttons.
     "Mike?" I asked, softly as he pressed two more buttons.
     "Yeah?"
     "How good of friends are we?"
     He looked at me and grinned.  He took my chin in his hand and
lifted my face up even with his.  "If you weren't so stubborn," he
said, "we'd be lovers."
     "Why am I stubborn?" I asked.  I didn't know if he was being
honest with me or not.  I could see no reason not to have him as a
lover.  But then, I couldn't remember anything.
     He sighed and lay back down, concentrating on the phone again. 
"Please tell me, Mike," I said.
     He sighed again and looked at me.  "I think it's a stupid
excuse, but you seem pretty adamant about it," he finally said.  "I
work for a major medical company, Tracy.  I go from city to city
installing and upgrading our software and training the people at
the hospitals and doctors offices.  Sometimes I'm gone for two or
three weeks at a time.  You won't be my lover because you want me
home every night.  I can't do that."
     I blushed and looked away.  "I see," I said.
     He went back to playing with the cell phone.  "Mike?" I asked,
timidly.
     "Yeah, Babe?" 
     "Have we ever been together?"
     "Oh yeah, lots of times," he replied, nonchalantly.  "I don't
recognize any of these numbers," he added.  "Maybe number two will
be your parents."
     "Might as well try it," I said, rolling over onto my back and
staring at the ceiling.  Had he been honest with me about us being
together?  If he had, why was he so nonchalant about it?  Now that
I didn't have any memory, why hadn't he taken advantage of me and
told me that we were lovers?  Maybe I had another lover and he
didn't want me to cheat on him?
     "Hello?  Who is this?" he asked into the phone.  "Oh, hi
Bill," he said.  "You don't know me, I'm Mike Spears.  I'm a friend
of Tracy Wilson's. . .Oh you are?  That's good. . . I've got his
cell phone and am trying the speed dial numbers.  I'm looking for
his parents. . . Great. . . Yeah, that's number four.   Thanks. .
.Well, he had a wreck this afternoon.  We're up at my cabin right
now.  He's got amnesia and a pretty bad gash on his head.  I've
talked to the doctor, but they can't get up here and I can't get
him to town either, until it stops snowing and they clear the
roads.  You wouldn't know where he was going, would you?. . .Oh he
was?. . .You wouldn't know how to reach them, would you?. . .Okay, 
I'll give them a call.  Thanks, Bill. . .Yeah, he's okay now.  Just
can't remember anything.  He doesn't even remember who he is.  The
doctor wants me to keep him awake.  He doesn't seem to hurt
anywhere but his head.  Might have a concussion."
     He hung up and looked at me.  "That was your brother; he gave
me your parent's number.  It's number four on here.  You were on
your way to a book signing in Cripple Creek.  He didn't know how to
get a hold of your publicist though.  Maybe your parents will."
     "That's good," I said.  A book signing?  A publicist?  What
was I an author or something?
     "Hello?  Mr. Wilson?" he asked in the instrument.  "Good, this
is Mike Spears. . . Yeah, that's me.  Since I travel for a living,
we never got a chance to meet when we were dating. . . He's here
with me.  I was just wondering if you knew how to get a hold of his
publicist?  He's not going to be able to make it this afternoon. .
. Okay, good.  Would you mind calling them and letting them know
that he's not going to make it?. . . He had a wreck this afternoon;
ran into Holler's Peak. . . Yeah, he's okay, pretty much.  He
smashed his car up pretty bad and his head, too.  He can't even
remember who he is."
     I closed my eyes as Mike went on to explain to Mr. Wilson
everything that had happened to someone named Tracy Wilson; someone
I was supposed to be, but didn't know.  So, we had dated.  I guess
that was that when we had slept together.
     Warm lips pressed against my cheek.  "Tracy, wake up, Babe,"
Mike whispered.  "You're not supposed to go to sleep yet."
     I moaned and rolled over onto my back.  His warm body pressed
against me as I opened my eyes.  "How long did I sleep?" I asked,
looking into his deep blue eyes.
     He leaned down and kissed me gently on the lips.  "Just a few
minutes," he replied.  "Damn, I've missed you, Tracy," he said,
softly.
     He lay his head next to mine and I wrapped my arms around his
strong, warm body.  I pulled the sheet and comforter up over him
and held him.  The pain in my head had subsided a little while I
slept, but not much.  I didn't know if the sleep had helped or the
pills, but I was thankful that the pain wasn't as bad.
     I surveyed the room as he held me.  "Have we ever been here
before?" I asked.  I knew I had to stay awake, but I couldn't make
love to him, not if I had another lover out there somewhere.
     "No," he replied, kissing me softly on my neck.
     "Don't Mike," I whispered.  "I don't know you.  I don't want
to make love to you until I know who I am again."
     He raised up and looked into my eyes.  "But some. . ." he cut
himself short and I noticed he bit his bottom lip to keep from
continuing.  I knew that he was going to say, 'but some people with
amnesia never remember who they are.'  He looked away from me and
rolled over and got up.  "I'd better put another log on the fire,"
he said.
     He put another log in the fireplace.  "I'll bring in some more
wood," he said, pulling his jeans on.  "It looks like it's starting
to snow harder."
     Without putting a shirt on, he donned his jacket and boots and
went outside.  I sighed and picked up the cellular phone.  I
pressed oh-four and send.  
     "Hello?" a woman's voice answered on the first ring.
     "Hello," I said, softly.  "I'm looking for Mr. or Mrs.
Wilson," I said.
     "Tracy, we've been worried sick since Mike called.  Are you
okay?"    
     "I don't remember anything or anyone.  Not even me," I said.
"Mike was hoping that if I heard either your voice or Dad's that I
would remember, but it's not working."
     I could tell she was on the verge of tears.  I didn't know
what to do or say.  "I'm sorry.  I was hoping it would help."
     "So were we," she said.
     "Mom?" I asked, timidly.
     "Yes, Sweetheart?"
     "Am I gay?"
     "Yes, you are," she replied with a chuckle.  "Are you finding
Mike attractive?"
     "Very," I replied.  "He said that we should be lovers, but I'm
stubborn."
     "We haven't met him," she admitted, "but you have spoken to us
about him and you used to keep a picture of him on your desk.  He
is very attractive."
     "Do I have a lover?"
     "No.  You broke up with Tim a couple of months ago.  I won't
go into why, because you've got enough to worry about right now. 
And I don't think you need to be worrying about a relationship
right now; you need to concentrate on remembering who you are.
     "Dad called Mr. Nelson for you and explained you couldn't make
it to Cripple Creek for the book signing," she continued, changing
the subject.  "He told Dad to have you call him as soon as you
could.  There's going to be a lot of disappointed people in Cripple
Creek tomorrow, but Mr. Nelson said that your health was more
important and they would understand."
     "That's good, I guess," I said as Mike came back in with a
bundle of firewood in his arms and the cell phone bleeped.
     "That means your batteries dying," Mike said as the phone went
dead.
     "Hello?" I asked into the phone.  "Mom?"
     Mike took the dead phone from me and opened my suitcase. 
"Good thing you brought your recharger," he said, removing a black
object from my suitcase.  He replaced the battery with another one
and pressed a few buttons.  "Good," he said handing it back to me. 
"This battery is charged and ready for use.  You can call her back
now."
     "Thank you, Mike," I said as he plugged the black object into
an outlet and placed the dead battery in it so that it could
recharge.
     "Do you remember anything?" he asked, hopefully as I pressed
the numbers for my parents.
     "No," I replied as mother answered the phone.
     "Tracy?  Is that you?" she asked.
     "Yeah.  Sorry about that, the battery on the cell phone died."
     "Good thing you took your other one with you," she said.
     "Yes.  Good thing Mike knew what to do with it.  I didn't."
     "Your brother Bill called after Mike did.  He said that Mike
called him, too."
     "Yes.  Mike didn't know what your number was and I don't
either," I replied.  "So he just started trying all of them."
     "It's clearing up here," Mother continued, "where are you?  We
can probably make it out there now to get you."
     "No.  It's really starting to snow here," I said as the wind
got up and blew the snow against the glass.  "I can't even see the
pickup out the window now," I admitted.
     "Oh no," she gasped.  "Are you going to have enough heat to
keep you warm?"
     "Mike just brought in some more firewood," I replied.  "He
planned to come out here for the week, so we should be okay for a
few days anyway."
     "We'll hope we don't have to wait that long to get you to the
hospital," Mike said, removing his jacket.
     I sighed as I watched him hang the jacket on the coat rack. 
I couldn't believe how attractive he was and that I didn't want him
because he couldn't be there every night.  Surely that wasn't true.
     "I guess we'd better get off here," Mother was saying.  "You
don't want to run the battery down before the other one gets
recharged."
     "I guess you're right," I agreed as Mike went into the kitchen
and took a skillet out of the bottom of the stove.
     "Your Dad and I love you, Tracy," Mom said.
     "Thank you," I replied.  "I'm sure I love you, too."
     I hung up and put the cellular on the night stand. 
Cautiously, I got out of bed and headed for the kitchen.  The floor
was cold through my sock feet, but the room was warm.
     Mike put his warm arms around me when I reached the kitchen. 
"You need to stay in bed, Sweetheart," he said as I rested my cheek
against his warm strong chest.  "You might pass out if you stay
up."
     "I wanted to be in here with you," I said.  "What are you
doing?"
     "I was going to make us something to eat," he said.  "But you
never did like my cooking.   Now that you can't remember anything,
do you want to see if you can still do a better job than me?" 
There was a twinkle in his blue eyes and I couldn't tell if he was
joking or not.
     He picked me up and, holding me against his warm body, carried
me back to bed.  He lay me down and kissed me on the lips.  "You
stay here, so you won't pass out," he whispered.  "But don't go to
sleep either."
     "Okay," I replied.
     I watched him return to the kitchen.  I glanced around the
room.  There was a book on the night stand.  I picked it up and
looked at the back of it.  A black and white photo of a cute young
man leaning casually against the rail of a front porch, grinned up
at me.  I'd never seen him before, but something seemed familiar
about him.  I moved my hand and froze as I read the name below the
photo.  "Tracy D. Wilson".  I realized then that I hadn't looked
into a mirror since the accident.  I had no idea what I looked
like.
     I opened the book and read the inside cover.  Scrawled in
black ink at an angle were the words: "To Michael with lot's of
love, Tracy."
     I looked up at Mike.  What was really going on between us? 
Sometimes what he said seemed like we were more than just friends,
but other things he said made me feel like we were just good
friends.  I was getting more confused by the minute.  
     Mike was standing with his back to me as he cooked something
that smelled wonderful.  I slid out of bed, leaving the book on top
of the comforter.  I crossed to the bathroom and relieved myself. 
Taking a deep breath, I looked into the mirror above the sink.  I
was thankful that I had seen the photo on the book before seeing
myself in the mirror.  The face that stared back at me was pale. 
Too pale.  I had obviously lost a lot of blood.  I also hadn't seen
the sun in quiet a while, it appeared.  I did resemble the person
in the photo, but, along with the pale face and gauze wrapped
around my head, I looked terrible.
     Warm strong arms wrapped around me and Mike's image appeared
in the mirror behind me.  "You shouldn't be out of bed," he said,
kissing me on the cheek.  "What am I going to have to do to keep
you in bed?"
     Turning around into his warm arms, I smiled.  "You wouldn't
want me to wet the bed, would you?" I asked, placing my head on his
chest.
     "Well, no," he admitted, picking me up.  He carried me back to
bed and lay me down.
     "Thank you," I said.  I kissed him on the cheek.  He looked at
me, surprised.  "I do appreciate everything you're doing for me,"
I added.
     He kissed me on the lips.  "I do love you, Tracy."
     "I know," I replied.  "I feel I might love you, too."
     He grinned and got up, bumping the book.  Frowning, he picked
it up.  "You saw this?" he asked.
     I nodded.  "I also read the inscription."
     He placed the book back on the night stand.  "I see," he said,
softly.  Without another word, he returned to the kitchen, leaving
me wondering what that was supposed to mean.
     A few minutes later, he came back and pulled a robe out of my
suitcase.  "Put this on," he said. 
     After I put it on, he picked me up and carried me the few
steps to the counter and sat me down on the stool that didn't have
any of our cloths on it.  He moved my jeans over to the other stool
and sat down next to me.  He had already placed two plates on the
counter in front of us.
     "It smells wonderful," I said.
     He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.  "It's the only
thing I can cook that you like," he said.
     I moved the top slice of bread to see what kind of sandwich it
was.  "It's a scrambled egg sandwich," he said, picking up his
sandwich.
     I placed my hand on his thigh and smiled at him.  "Thank you. 
I really appreciate this," I said.
     He grinned and took a bite of his sandwich.  "You'd better eat
up," he said as he chewed.  "Don't know how long you can sit up
without passing out."
     Maybe that was the real reason that I couldn't be his lover. 
Talking with his mouth full was one thing, but I couldn't believe
he'd talk and chew at the same time.  I took a bite of the sandwich
and was happily impressed with how good it tasted.  He had melted
cheese in with the egg while it cooked.  There were also some
potato chips on our plates.  We ate in silence and sipped the hot
chocolate he had made while we watched the blizzard out the window
above the kitchen sink.
     When we finished eating, he picked up our plates and put them
in the sink.  Picking me up, he carried me back to bed.  "May I
brush my teeth?" I asked when he lay me down. 
     He laughed.  "Are you sure that you have amnesia?" he asked,
frowning at me.
     "I don't know about that," I replied, "but I can't remember
anything.  Why?"
     "Cause that's the first thing you always want to do after you
eat."
     "Oh," I said.  He reached into my suitcase, which he had sat
on the cedar chest at the foot of the bed, and retrieved my
toiletries bag.
     "How does your head feel?" he asked, picking me up.  I knew
that I could walk just fine, but he really wanted to carry me and
since I loved to feel his warm body against me, I didn't object.
     "It still hurts," I replied, resting my head on his bare
shoulder.  "But not as bad as it did."
     He stood me up in front of the sink as my cellular phone rang.
     "Lean up against the sink," he instructed, "I'll get the phone
and will be right back."
     "Okay," I replied.  He left the room.  I brushed my teeth. 
Looking in the mirror, I saw him standing in the doorway as he
spoke on the phone.
     "His head is still hurting, Doc," Mike was saying.  "But he's
not having any dizziness.  I'm carrying him all over the cabin; not
letting him walk, just in case.  He's standing up brushing his
teeth right now.  We just had supper. . .Yes, they're regular Pain
Aids that come in First Aide Kits. . .Okay. . .Let me check."  He
held the phone away from his mouth and asked, "Tracy, are you
having any more blurred vision?"
     I finished brushing my teeth and rinsed my mouth before
answering.  "No," I replied, drying my mouth.  "Just the headache. 
No dizziness or anything."
     "No, he doesn't," Mike said into the instrument.  "Okay, I
will.  How much longer should he stay awake? . . . Okay.  Thanks
again for calling Dr. Brown.  I'll call you in the morning if
there's been any change. . .Yes, it's still snowing hard here," he
said, going back into the front room to look out the window.
     I slipped my robe, underwear and socks off and stepped into
the tub, pulling the shower curtain closed behind me.  The water
was cold at first, but I let it hit the wall for a few minutes and
it warmed up nicely.
     "Hey, what are you doing?" Mike's deep sexy voice asked as he
pulled the curtain back to look at me.
     "Taking a shower," I replied, turning to face him.
     "Dammit, Tracy, I've missed you," he said softly as he let his
eyes run over my nude body.
     I didn't say anything.  I turned my back to him and a moment
later, I felt his warm body brush against my back.  "Here," he
said, "let me take this off."
     I felt cold scissors snip the gauze and the bandage came off. 
He turned me around to face him.  "We didn't want it to get wet,"
he said softly.  "Good, it's stopped bleeding.  I will wash it and
then put another one on before we go to bed."
     I let my eyes run over his muscular body.  He had removed his
jeans and briefs and stood before me.  The blood had rushed to the
center of his body.  I loved the way the trail of black hair that
started at the base of his navel ran all the way down into his
soft, black bush.  His nine inch rod stood at attention and curved
slightly upward.  
     I looked into his deep blue eyes.  "You used to like to play
with that," he said with a grin.
     What could be wrong with me that I would give that up?  Even
once every three weeks would be better than never, I told myself. 
There must be something going on between us that he wasn't telling
me.  But what could it be?
     He stepped forward and I took a step back.  Warm water hit the
top of my head and ran down the back of my neck.  I leaned my head
back to wet my hair and the water hit the cut above my eye and
stung.  "Ouch," I gasped and jumped out from under the water, right
into his waiting arms.
     "Gotta be careful, Babe," he said softly.
     He kissed me gently on the lips, then, grabbing the soap, he
gently washed me all over.  Paying special attention to my genitals
and rear end.  Somehow, I managed to keep from getting an arousal
of my own.  More than likely, it was the pain in my head that
stopped it.
     He was very gentle as he washed my cut.  "Shit," he breathed. 
"You're bleeding again."
     Mike turned the water off, got a towel and quickly dried me
off.   He wrapped the towel around his waist and got out and
grabbed the first aide kit.  He dabbed antiseptic on my cut then he
sprayed it with the liquid bandage.  It didn't burn as bad as it
had before.  He dried my hair the best he could and we wrapped my
head up again.
     "Dr. Brown said you can take a couple more pain pills," he
said, picking me up and carrying me back into the front room.  "He
also said you could go to sleep whenever you felt like it now.  You
should be okay."
     He lay me down on the bed and kissed me gently on the lips.
"I'll get you a couple more pills."
     "Okay." I said.  He returned to the bathroom and I pulled the
warm comforter up over me and looked out the window.  The snow was
piling up on the front porch.  If it didn't stop soon, we wouldn't
be able to get out of the house by morning.
     "Here you go, Babe," Mike said, handing me a paper cup of
water.
     "Thank you," I replied.  I took the pills and drank the water. 
He threw the cup in the trash can beside the bed.
     "Those can be used more than once, you know?" I said.
     He grinned as he got up.  "Yeah.  I'm going to go finish
taking a shower," he said.  "I'd prefer it if you didn't go to
sleep yet, but if you're tired, go ahead."
     He put another log on the fire, went into the bathroom and,
leaving the door open, turned on the water in the shower.  I sat up
and looked around the room again.  There was a mantle clock above
the fireplace.  It read seven-thirty.  I didn't remember what time
we got there.  A portable TV sat on the end of the counter.  I
noticed a remote control on the night stand and reached over to
pick it up.  Turning the TV on, I wondered what would be on.  I
didn't remember any TV shows, so it really didn't matter anyway.
     The channel that it was on was a news channel.  They displayed
the opening credits for the half hour and the scene switched to an
attractive young woman with black hair swept up in a bun on the top
of her head.
     "Welcome to News Central," she said in her most professional
voice.  "Tonight's top story is the disappearance of Romance
Novelist Tracy Dean Wilson."  I frowned as they put my picture up
in a box beside her head.  I wasn't missing.  I didn't know where
I was, but I had talked my mother, hadn't I?  She had said that Dad
had called my publicist.  Why hadn't he told them I was okay?
     "Wilson was due to arrive in Cripple Creek about three o'clock
this afternoon, for a book signing of his latest novel, 'A Quill in
the Heart' at 'The Book Satchel' book store tomorrow morning," she
continued.  "However, there is currently a raging blizzard in
Holler's Cove, where Wilson lives.  It is reported that Wilson hit
ice and ran into Holler's Peak earlier this afternoon.  Emergency
dispatch received a call from a Mike Spears around two-fifteen this
afternoon.  Mr. Spears explained the accident and said he would
take Wilson to a cabin, but did not give the address for the cabin. 
Dr. Harold Brown of Holler's Cove's hospital has spoken to Mr.
Spears a couple of times this afternoon on Tracy Wilson's cellular
phone, in regards to Mr. Wilson's accident, but has not spoken to
directly to Wilson.  Spears has claimed that Wilson has amnesia.
     "Holler's Cove Police have not yet ruled this a kidnapping as
Mr. Spears doesn't have any outstanding warrants and he has made no
ransom demands," she added.
     "What the fuck?" Mike demanded.  I looked up at him.  I hadn't
realized he was in the room.  He stood in the doorway of the
bathroom drying off as he watched the newscast.
     "Police have located Wilson's '94 Ford Tempo," she continued
and I returned my gaze to the screen, as the photo beside her head
changed to my crumpled up car.  "It has been smashed into Holler's
Peak as Spears had described.  There is blood in the vehicle.
However, snow in the area has covered any tracks leaving the
accident.  It has also prevented the police from searching the area
for Wilson and Spears.
     "In other news," she continued and Mike turned the TV off.
     "I can't believe this," he said, grabbing my cell phone.  "I
told them the cabin was a few miles up the road from the wreck." 
He angrily stabbed a few buttons on the phone.  "Yeah," he said,
hotly.  "This is Michael Spears.  I've got Tracy Wilson up here in
a cabin with me.  I would be more than happy for you to come up
here and get us both.  It's snowing so hard that I can't even open
the front door now. . .No, I'm not going to calm down," he snapped. 
"We just saw on the news where you think I've kidnapped Tracy.  I
haven't.  Get up here right now and get us. . .There's not an
address here, but you just keep going west on the service road
about two miles from where the wreck was, then turn right on a make
shift road and we're at the end of it.  You'll have to come around
to the back door, the front porch is covered. . . Oh and just a
second, there's someone I want you to talk to."  He handed me the
phone.  "This is nine-one-one.  Let them know that you're alive,"
he said.
     "Hello?" I said, timidly into the phone.
     "Who is this?" a woman asked.
     "I don't remember anything," I said.  "I have a picture on a
book here that says I'm Tracy D. Wilson.  I also have my driver's
license; it confirms it, too." I said as Mike opened my wallet and
handed it to me so I could see my license.
     "Are you okay?" she asked.
     "I guess so.  Mike has taken very good care of me.  Even
though I can't remember anything, except for getting rid of my
headache, I don't really know of anything that any doctor or
hospital could do for me that Mike hasn't," I explained.  "I talked
to someone who claimed to be my mother earlier; she said that my
father called my publicist and let him know that I wouldn't be in
Cripple Creek for the book signing."
     "Do you know where you are?" she asked.
     "Not really, but the directions that he gave you are correct. 
I remember that's the way we came from where the wrecked car was. 
I just don't remember anything before I woke up and he was there. 
I was blind then, but got my sight back a few minutes later.  I
still have a splitting headache, but Dr. Brown told him to give me
some Pain Aide and it has helped a little."
     "Do you know the number to your cellular phone?"
     "No, but Mike gave it to someone there the first time he
called you.  And Dr. Brown has called twice, so you should have
it."
     "Mike told us earlier that you are a friend of his," she said. 
"Since you do not remember who you are, has he given you any reason
to feel that you were not friends before or that you are in danger
being with him?"
     "No," I replied.  "There are some things that he has said that
confuse me, but I do feel we are friends.  The woman who claimed to
be my mother said I had talked to her about him before."
     "How did you talk to this woman?" she asked.
     "On this cellular phone; the number is programmed on speed
dial oh-four."
     "Can you press recall zero-four and read the number to me?"
     I did.  "Okay," she said.  "I will call her and verify that
she is your mother.  If you feel that you are in any danger, please
call us back immediately.  We are trying to get out there, but it
is still snowing."
     "I can't even see out the window now," I said.  "The snow is
piled up on the front porch.  I can tell by the kitchen window that
it is still snowing."
     Mike held his hand out to me.  "Mike wants to talk to you
again," I said.
     "Okay."
     I handed him the phone.  "Now are you happy?" he asked, still
in an angry tone.   "Good.  It looks like I'm going to have to go
out the back door and get some more firewood, which is on the front
porch.  When you get here, you'll have to come around to the back
door.  The front faces the north and that's the direction the wind
is out of, so it is piling up on the front porch. . .Thank you." 
He hung up and sighed as he looked at me.  Flames still flickered
in his blue eyes.  I looked down and then back up at him and
realized that the flames were only the reflection off the fire in
the hearth.
     He placed the phone on the night stand.  "I guess I'd better
get some more wood," he said, softly.  
     "I'd help you if you'd let me," I said.
     He grinned at me and leaned down to kiss me on the cheek.  I
moved so that he kissed me on the lips.  "I love you, Tracy," he
said.  "I'd never hurt you or lie to you."
     "I know," I replied.  How I knew, I didn't know; I just
did. 
     I watched Mike get dressed and leave out the back door.  A few
minutes later, I heard him stomping the snow off his boots at the
back door.  I got up and rushed to the door and opened it, since he
would have his arms full of firewood.  He had no firewood and it
was still snowing hard.  "Thanks, Hon," he said, taking his boots
off and closing the door.  "Now get back to bed."
     "Where's the wood?" I asked, worriedly.
     "It's buried.  I'll have to dig it out, but I can't get to my
pickup to get the shovel, either.  It's buried too."
     "What are we going to do?" I asked as he removed his coat.
     "We've got each other to keep us warm," he replied with a sly
grin.  "Luckily, we can leave the oven on and the heater in the
bathroom.  They're both gas and they'll keep the house comfortable
enough as long as we stay under the comforter.  We probably have
enough wood in here to last through midnight at least, though."
     Obediently, without being told to again, I crawled back into
bed.  "Why don't we just light the bathroom heater and the oven
now?  We can save the firewood for tomorrow after we get up."
     "Good idea," he agreed.  Mike lit the oven and the heater,
removed his cloths and crawled into bed with me.  He pulled me into
his warm strong arms and I lay my head on his broad shoulder. 
"Good night, Tracy," he whispered against the top of my head.  "I
hope you have your memory back in the morning."
     "So do I," I replied.  I raised my head up and kissed him on
the lips.  "Thank you again, Mike, for being here for me.  I don't
know what I would have done without you."
     "Let's not think about that," he replied.  "Get some sleep."
     "Okay," I said.
     I closed my eyes.  My head still throbbed.  The pills hadn't
helped much.  I tried to clear my mind of the way Mike had looked
while standing in the shower with a hard on.  I wanted him so much,
but I knew that with the pain in my head, I wouldn't be able to
enjoy him.  I tried to clear my mind of everything.  I wanted
blackness.  I wanted the pain to go away.  Letting my mind wander,
I tried to remember who I was.  I hoped that my dreams would bring
the real me back to life.
     I listened to the sound of Mike's heartbeat.  His breathing
slowed and shortly he began to snore softly.  The fire flickered
and crackled in the fireplace.  The wind howled around the corner
and I felt safe in Mike's warm arms.  I didn't know who I was or
who Mike was, but I knew I was safe.
     Sleep finally came.  Dreams didn't, or if they did I didn't
recall them when I awoke the next morning.  I lay with my back to
Mike and his warm body pressed against me.  I felt his day's growth
of whiskers tickle my ear as he kissed me and pressed his hard
member against my bottom.  
     "Mm," I moaned, rolling over to face him.  He kissed me gently
on the lips as he pressed his rod against my thigh.
     "How's your head?" he asked as I wrapped my arms around his
strong body and held him tight.
     "It still hurts," I replied.  
     "You remember anything?"
     "No."
     He kissed me on the lips; tenderly at first, then passionately
for a few minutes.  I couldn't believe how good it felt to kiss
him.
     "You still want to wait until you know who you are to make
love to me?" he asked as he softly kissed his way down my neck and
chest.  I gasped as he let his hot tongue flick across my erect
nipple.
     "No," I croaked.  The blood rushed out of my head to the
center of my body.  Most of the pain subsided, but there was just
enough left for me not to forget it.
     Mike continued kissing his way downward, pulling the sheet and
comforter over his head as he descended, so I wouldn't get cold. 
He gently kissed my blood engorged member and licked the base of it
down to my sack.  I couldn't believe how good it felt.  What was
going on between us that I didn't want to be his lover?
     He took my five inch organ into his hot mouth and sucked it
like a lollipop without moving his head.  I thought I was going to
die when he ran his tongue around the base of the head.  He raised
up and kissed the base of it downward to my sack.  He took my
testicles in his mouth one at a time and gently massaged each one
of them with his tongue.  Raising up a little, he kissed his way
down between my legs.  Spreading my legs, he gently licked my love
hole.  Taking my hard member into his hand and slowly stroking it,
he pressed his hot tongue in as deep as it would go.
     "Oh, Mike," I gasped.  He was doing a very good job of making
me forget my headache.
     He raised up and pushed the sheet and comforter back.  His
hard rod stretching up almost to the top of his navel.
     I reached up and took him in my hand and gently stroked the
nine inch rod.  "Mm," he moaned, letting his eyes roll back in his
head as he closed them.  "You used to love it when I did that to
you and I love it when you do this to me."
     Using his hard member as a handle, I pulled him toward me and
he lay down beside me and kissed me on the lips.  I said nothing as
I kissed his navel.  I let my tongue gently run down the base of
his hard shaft.  He moaned as I took the head of it in my mouth and
gently sucked it.  I spent several minutes just licking the base of
the head, like he had down to me.  I was unable to get much of the
monster in my small mouth, but he was enjoying what I was doing.
     "Oh Honey," he gasped.  "You might have amnesia, but you sure
do remember how to make me feel good."
     I smiled up at his handsome face, but didn't say anything.  I
just continued to give him pleasure.
     I ran my tongue down the base of his hard cock, then back up
to the tip and licked off the salty precum that had formed at the
slit.  He placed his hand on the back of my head and grinned.  "How
would you like it up your ass?" he asked.  "You used to love it
when I did that."
     I wondered how long it had been since we had made love, but I
didn't ask.  "I'd like that," I replied.
     Raising up, he turned me over onto my back.  "I noticed you
had some condoms in your toiletries bag," he said, kissing me
gently on the lips.  "I guess you were planning on getting lucky in
Cripple Creek this weekend," he added with a grin.  I shrugged.  I
had no idea.
     He laughed and hopped out of bed and dashed into the bathroom. 
A moment later he returned with a fresh box of condoms. 
"Unfortunately," he said, "these don't have a size on them, so they
might not be big enough."
     "We can at least try them," I said, taking the box from him.
     He grinned as I nervously tried to open the box.  He took it
away from me and opened it.  He removed a condom and placed the box
on the night stand.  He ripped the condom open with his teeth and
I took it from him and rolled it down over his hard member.  It was
a snug fit, but it wasn't too small.
     "You must have been expecting to get a big dick this weekend,"
he said, leaning down to kiss me on the lips.
     I pulled him down on top of me and whispered, "I'm glad I'm
not going to be disappointed."
     He spread my legs and positioned himself between them on top
of me.  "You sure won't be," he promised between kisses.
     He spat on his fingers and gently pressed them up inside my
love hole.   Watching my facial expressions, he knew when I was
ready for him to enter me.  He gently pressed the head in and eased
his way all the way in, up to his black bush.  I loved the feel of
his hard rod inside me.  I also loved the feel of his soft bush
against my bottom.
     He gently pulled out a little way and I wrapped my arms around
him as he lay down on top of me and kissed me on the lips.  He
pressed back in and slowly began to pump.  I began to move my hips
up to meet him as he pressed in and it didn't take long before we
were in perfect rhythm.  It was as though we had been meant for
each other and we had been doing this for such a long time that we
had perfected the act.  I wondered again how long it had been since
we had been together, but was so absorbed in the moment, that I
didn't want to spoil it by asking.  Time stood still for us it
seemed.  We were one with each other.  It didn't matter to me why
I didn't want to be lovers with him, all that mattered at the
moment was that we were lovers right then.  The pain in my head had
almost subsided and what little was left didn't make a dent as I
concentrated on the wonderful feel of his hard rod being driven
deep inside me.
     "Oh, Baby," he gasped between kisses.  "You're still so hot."
     "Mm, you're so big," I moaned and kissed him hard on the lips. 
I could tell he was getting close to orgasm.  I knew I was.  He
raised up a little and pressed his hard member a little deeper.  I
felt him expand inside of me as he let out a gasp against my lips
and blasted his load into the condom inside me; his hard rod hit my
prostrate gland and I went into orbit.  My own organ was straining
against it's skin and pressing against his hard stomach.  I blasted
a wad of love juice between us just as the back door burst open and
three uniformed officers rushed into the kitchen.
     "What the. . .?" one of them gasped as he watched Mike
collapse on top of me.
     Mike had left the sheet and comforter off of us and we were
totally exposed to the officers.
     Mike looked back at them and, trying to catch his breath,
pushed himself off of me and climbed out of bed.  There was an
awkward silence in the room as Mike rolled the soiled condom off
and tossed it in the trash can beside the bed.
     "Sorry, Mr. Spears," the head officer finally managed to say. 
"We tried to call but apparently Mr. Wilson's cell phone's battery
is dead and we thought you might be in danger since we didn't see
any smoke coming out of the chimney."
     "It's okay.  We're glad you're here," Mike said, crossing to
the bathroom.  He made no effort to cover himself and, though he
was limp now, I did notice one of the officers look at him with
envy.  Mike returned with a towel and wiped my sperm off my body.
     "Get dressed, Babe," he said, softly.
     We both dressed as quickly as we could.  The officers had
closed the back door and waited patiently in the kitchen for us. 
"Do you still have amnesia, Mr. Wilson?" the head officer asked
while we dressed.
     "Yes, Sir," I replied.  "My head still hurts, but not as bad
as it did last night."
     "Dr. Brown is waiting for us at the hospital," he said. 
"Maybe he can do something about that."
     "I hope so," I replied.
     "I'm Sergeant Steve Callaway," the head officer introduced
himself.  "This is Officer Rex Long," he motioned to another
officer.  "And Officer Charlie Fox," he motioned to the one who had
looked at Mike's cock with envy.
     "Nice to meet you," Mike said, heading for the bathroom.  He
returned with my toiletries bag, picked up the condoms and the cell
phone from the nightstand and replaced the dead battery with the
recharged one.  He put the charger and other battery back in my
suitcase.  He handed me a pair of sunglasses and grabbed his
suitcase as we headed to the back door.  
     "Will you carry these?" he asked, handing the suitcases to the
Officer Fox.
     "Sure," he replied.
     Mike closed the oven door and turned it off.  Then he put on
his sunglasses and picked me up and we headed out the door.  
     "Do you want me to lock this?" Officer Long asked.
     "Please," Mike replied.  "I've got the key in my pocket."  He
did and followed us out into the snow.
     "I guess I should have locked the door last night," Mike
admitted softly as he carried me through the knee deep snow to the
jeep scout that awaited us.
     Sometime in the night, the blizzard had passed and now the sun
was glistening off the pure white snow so bright, that, even though
I had on a pair of dark glasses, I had to cover my eyes with my
hand to keep from squinting against it.  I lay my head on Mike's
broad shoulder and tried to be as light as I could be for him to
carry me.  If he had any problems, he didn't let on.
     He sat me down in the back seat of the scout and crawled in
beside me.  "I really am glad that you could make it," Mike told
Sergeant Callaway as the Officer Long steered the scout toward the
highway.
     "So are we," the Sergeant replied.  "It's a bit hairy out here
in places, but with the four wheeler it's not so bad.  
     "I'm really surprised that you tried to make it to Cripple
Creek yesterday, Mr. Wilson," he continued.  "I spoke to your
father last night after you spoke to dispatch and he said that you
never liked to drive in this type of weather.  He was surprised
that you decided to go, too."
     "Did he tell you why he did?" Mike asked, putting his arm
behind me and pulling my head down to rest on his shoulder.  I
wished that I didn't have to wear the seat belt so I could snuggle
closer to him, but at least I could touch him this way.
     "Just that you were expecting a big turn out at the book store
and you needed to be there," he replied.  "He said that you had
planned this signing for about six months."
     The highway had been cleared earlier that morning.  Officer
Long turned on the siren and headed toward town at code three.  The
noise sent blood pumping to my head and my headache returned with
a gush.  I sat up and covered my ears with my hands.  "Can't you
turn that off?" Mike asked.  "It's making Tracy's headache worse."
     "Sorry," Officer Long replied.  "We've got to be heard.  Some
of these side streets are still slick and people might not be able
to stop in time if they just see the lights."
     Mike pulled me down against his chest and covered my hand that
I had over my ear, with his.  My head still pounded, but I couldn't
hear anything but a muffled wail of the siren and his strong
heartbeat.
     We made it to the hospital in record time and skidded to a
stop in front of Emergency.
     Sergeant Callaway jumped out and opened my door.  He helped me
out as an orderly with a gurney appeared behind him.  "Lay down on
this," he instructed.
     I lay down and he buckled me to the gurney.  I reached for
Mike's hand as they wheeled me into the building.  Mike tried to
come after me but Sergeant Callaway stopped him.
     "How's your head, Mr. Wilson?" the orderly asked.  
     "It hurts," I replied.
     We stopped in the hallway and a nurse removed my sunglasses
and the bandage.  "Whoever put this on did a good job," she said.
     "That was Mike.  Where is he?" I asked.
     "He's still with the police," the orderly replied.  They
rushed me into a room just as a TV news crew rushed in from the
waiting room.
     "That was close," the orderly said.
     "Yes, he's not ready for an interview right now," the nurse
agreed. 
     "I'll make sure they stay out," the orderly offered and left
the room.
     "Dr. Brown will be in to see you in a few minutes," the nurse
said.  "The wound has begun to heal and looks nice and clean, but
I'm going to give you an antibiotic shot, anyway, just to ward off
infection.  We don't know how long it was before he cleaned it up
for you."
     "Okay," I agreed.  "But it wasn't more than half an hour," I
told her.  "He said he saw the accident."
     "That's good," she said, poking the needle into my arm.  When
she finished, she stuck a thermometer in my mouth and took my blood
pressure while waiting for the thermometer to register my
temperature. 
     "Luckily you didn't need any stitches," she said.
     "No fever," she said, writing something on a chart on a clip
board.  "Blood pressure's a little high, but that's to be expected
with the pain you are suffering.
     "You get some rest and Dr. Brown will be in shortly," she said
and left the room before I could ask if Mike could come sit with me
while I waited.
     The clock on the wall above the door clicked off each second. 
I looked at it; it was nine-twenty.  I wasn't really sure what time
the officers had burst into the cabin that morning.  I hadn't taken
a moment to look at the clock.  I also hadn't been to the bathroom
since the night before and really needed to go.
     I slipped off the gurney.  Luckily the orderly had unbuckled
me before he left.  I didn't see a bed pan in the room.  It was
obvious this was just an examination room.  They apparently didn't
leave patients in that room long enough to worry about them needing
the rest room.  However, I had now been in there for fifteen
minutes and had to go.
     I crossed to the door and listened.  "Yeah, Wilson's in
there," a woman's voice said.  
     "Do you think he'd give us his autograph?" another woman
asked.
     "I don't know.  We can ask," the first replied.
     I started to open the door and ask if I could use the rest
room, but froze with my hand on the door as the second one said, 
"I heard Charlie, one of the police officers, say that they barged
in on them right as they were doing it."
     "No?" the first gasped.
     "Yes," she replied, softly.  "He said Spears was laying on top
of Wilson and had is dick all the way up Wilson's ass.  They both
came right as Charlie and the others rushed in."
     "How embarrassing," the first said.  "I saw Spears in the
waiting room with Callaway a few minutes ago.  He is a hunk.  I
wouldn't mind having him myself."
     "Yeah, me too.  Charlie said that Spears was a good ten
inches, too."
     "Mm," the second said.  "I always thought Wilson was gay, but
wasn't sure."
     "You mean you haven't read 'A Quill in the Heart'?  It's a gay
novel.  I've heard that it might even be an autobiography, of
sorts.  It's about a guy who falls in love with a gay author and
the author writes a story about something they do.  The main
character is pissed and they break up.  And, it just so happens,
that Wilson broke up with his lover a couple of weeks before it was
released.
     "Unfortunately," she continued, "now Wilson has amnesia so we
may never know the truth."
     I couldn't believe what I was hearing.  Surely I wouldn't
write about something a lover and I did.  Would I?  It didn't
matter at the moment.  I wasn't going to make it to the rest room
if I didn't go out the door right then.
     I opened the door.  The two young women were standing at the
check in counter and jumped as I walked out.  "I know I'm supposed
to stay in bed," I said, "but I have got to go to the bathroom. 
Where is it?"
     One of them blushed, knowing that I had heard everything they
had said.  The other pointed down the hall.  "Thanks," I said and
took off toward the rest room.
     I barely made it, but I did.  On my way back to the Emergency
Room, I noticed the two woman had left their post.  "There you
are," a doctor said when I stepped into my room.
     "Sorry, I had to go and there wasn't a bed pan in here," I
explained.
     "That's fine.  I'm Dr. Brown," he said, shaking my hand.
     "Where's Mike?" I asked, sitting down on the gurney.
     "He's with the officers that brought you in," he explained. 
"They had some questions for him."
     "He's not under arrest, is he?" I asked, worriedly.
     "Oh no," Dr. Brown replied with a grin.  "Just some routine
questions. 
     "I want to do a cat scan," he continued.  "Maybe it will tell
us why you have amnesia.  And then we can put you in a room and you
can see him."
     "Is it really necessary for me to take a room?" I asked. 
"After all, it has been almost twenty hours since my accident."
     "True.  But you do want us to get rid of that headache for
you, don't you?"
     "Well, yes," I admitted.
     "Good."  He pulled a penlight out of his white coat pocket and
shined it in my eyes while he told me where to look.
     "Everything looks okay in there," he said.   "Any dizziness?"
     "No, Sir," I replied.
     After two hours of being poked and prodded, ran through a
large machine and X-rayed all over, I lay in a small, private room
with tubes sticking out of my left arm that ran up to an IV that
dripped medicine and nutrients directly into my blood stream.  My
head still hurt and I hadn't seen or heard from Mike since he tried
to come into the hospital with me.
     No one I asked seemed to know who or where he was, but I
always noticed a slight grin when they turned away to leave the
room.  Apparently the two gossips in the ER had spread the word.
     I closed my eyes and lay back on the pillow and tried not to
concentrate on anything.  I was alone in this world at the moment. 
I had no idea who I was.  I knew I was Tracy Dean Wilson, Romance
Novelist, but that told me nothing.  Who was Tracy Dean Wilson? 
Why did Tracy Dean Wilson not want to have a real relationship with
Michael Spears?  And, had Tracy Dean Wilson really used something
that happened between he and his lover for a novel?
     No one came in to answer my questions.  I closed my eyes and
sighed.  The unanswered questions made my head hurt worse.
     "Knock, knock," a woman's voice filled the room. 
     I opened my eyes as a nurse walked in, followed by a middle-
aged couple and a young man.
     "You have visitors," the nurse said, cheerfully.
     They all three had blond hair and blue eyes and were quiet
attractive.  I could see the family resemblance between the two
men.
     The woman had a strained look on her face, but she smiled
timidly at me.  Were these supposed to be avid fans?  I wondered, 
but I had a feeling that they were my parents and brother.  I
hadn't seen any TV cameras since I had been wheeled into the
examination room in ER.
     "I'm sure you don't recognize them," the nurse said, "but
these are your parents, Mr. and Mrs. Wilson.  And this is your
brother, Bill."
     I had to be careful what I said.  I didn't want to hurt their
feelings, especially since I had no idea who they were.
     "Hi," I said with a weak smile.  "I'm sorry I don't remember
you.  I can't remember anything before yesterday after the wreck."
     Mrs. Wilson - Mom - sat down on the edge of the bed and took
my hand in hers.  "How do you feel?" she asked.
     "I still have a headache," I admitted.
     "The medication should kick in shortly," the nurse said.
     "I hope so," I said.  "Have you seen Mike?" I asked.  "No one
seems to know where he is."
     "He's out front in the waiting room," Mom said.  "I thought I
recognized him from the photo you had on your desk, but wasn't sure
because I figured he'd be in here with you, so I didn't take a
chance to talk to him.  Why hasn't he been allowed in?" she asked
the nurse.
     This was the first time I had seen this nurse.  She looked at
me, then back at Mother.  "Because of Mr. Wilson's status, we have
been given orders that only family members are allowed to see him. 
We don't want any reporters trying to sneak in."
     "But Dr. Brown told me that Mike could come in after the tests
were complete," I protested.
     "Oh," she said.  "Well, in that case, I'll go get him for you. 
What does he look like?" 
     "He's about six foot, black hair, blue eyes.  He'll probably
have a yellowish sheep skin coat on or with him," I explained.  I
didn't want to tell her he was a hunk in front of my family.
     "Oh yes," she said, smiling as she nodded her head.  "I've
seen him in the waiting room.  He has asked at the nurses station
a few times why he can't come see you.  I'll go get him and we'll
be right back."
     "Thank you," I said.
     She left the room and Dad sat down on the bed beside me. 
"Since you don't know who you are," he said, "I guess it would be
best for you to come home with us when they let you go."
     "Dr. Brown said that as soon as the results are back and they
can get rid of your headache, they will release you," Mom added. 
"There is nothing they can do about the amnesia, your memory will
have to come back on its own."
     I just wanted to be with Mike, but I couldn't tell them that. 
"How long have I lived in my house?" I asked.
     "It's just a two bedroom apartment," Dad replied.  "You've
lived there for three years."
     "It might be best for him to go home," Bill spoke up.  "If
he's in familiar surroundings something might click faster than if
he went to your house.  Remember, he never lived there.  You moved
into that house after we both graduated from college."
     "That's true," Mom agreed.  "But I would rather him be with
us, too.  However, you do have a point that familiar surroundings
might help.  Your computer is there and your books.  You might be
able to find your memory better with your things around."
     "And, since Tracy and I have always been close," Bill said, "I
can take a few days off work and stay with him."
     "That would probably be best," Dad agreed as the door opened
and the nurse and Mike entered the room.
     Mike was wearing his jacket and carried his suitcase.  He had
given my suitcase to Dr. Brown earlier and it was in the closet.
     "Hi, how are you feeling?" he asked, smiling down at me as
Mother moved out of the way so he could get closer to me.  
     "Better now that you're here," I replied smiling up at his
handsome face.  He still hadn't shaved.  He bent down and kissed me
on the lips.  "I've missed you," I said, softly.
     "I've been worried about you, but they wouldn't let me in. 
They kept saying that only family members were allowed in and Dr.
Brown has been in surgery since you come in here, so I couldn't get
him to make them let me in."
     "Everyone I've seen has said they didn't know who you were,"
I informed him.  
     "Well, we're together now," he said, kissing me again. 
"That's all that matters."
     Dad cleared his throat.
     "Oh.  Mike, these are my parents and my brother Bill."
It felt odd introducing three strangers to him.  He was a stranger
too.
     "How can we ever thank you for saving our son's life?" Dad
asked, shaking Mike's hand.
     "I'm just thankful I was there," Mike replied, grinning at me.
     "So am I," I admitted.  I was getting confused again.  I
didn't understand that if I was so close to my family, why I hadn't
introduced Mike to them before?  Mike had promised me that he would
never lie to me.  Had that been a lie, too?
     Mike sat down on the edge of the bed and took my hand in his. 
"How's your head feel?" he asked, looking into my eyes.
     "It still hurts," I replied.  "The medication should kick in
soon, but it hasn't yet."
     Nurse Phillips checked the connection of the IV.  "It
shouldn't be too much longer," she said.  "Why don't we leave him
alone and he can get some rest?"
     "Okay," Dad agreed.
     "Your lunch will be in in a few minutes," Nurse Phillips said. 
"You can eat then get some rest."
     I held onto Mike's hand, not letting him get up.  "I want Mike
to stay," I said.  "If you don't mind, that is?"
     He grinned.  "No, I want to stay, too," he replied.
     Mom and Dad exchanged worried glances, but didn't say
anything.
     "We'll be back after you've gotten some rest," Mom promised,
leaning down to kiss me on the cheek.
     "Thank you," I said.
     I watched them exit and sighed.  Who were they?  Why couldn't
I remember them?
     I reached up and touched Mike's handsome face.  His beard had
turned soft since that morning.  He smiled down at me.  I wished he
could lay down with me and I could rest my head on his shoulder and
go to sleep.  Like we had slept together the night before.  As he
kissed my hand, I wondered, "Do I really want to know about my
past?"
     "I guess I need to shave," he said, softly.
     "Whatever," I replied.  "Thank you for staying."
     "Thank you for wanting me to," he said, kissing me gently on
the lips.
     The door opened again and a woman in mauve colored surgical
scrubs and a light blue shower cap entered carrying a lunch tray.
     Mike moved out of her way and she sat the tray on the portable
table.  "Here you go, Mr. Wilson," she said.  "I hope you enjoy
it."
     "Thank you," I replied.
     She looked at Mike and smiled.  "There is a cafeteria down the
hall to the left.  If you would like to eat there, you may.  The
prices are reasonable."
     "Thank you," he replied.  "Is it okay if I sit with Tracy
while he eats?"
     "Certainly," she replied and left the room.
     Mike picked up the controls to the bed and turned on the TV.
     "Eat up, Babe," he said.  "It's a lot better than I could have
made you at the cabin."
     I smiled and picked up my fork as he sat down in the recliner
to watch the news.  "I'd rather have what you would have made," I
said softly.
     "I know, Babe," he replied.  "But you need the medicine.  I
didn't have that."
     "True," I replied, "but it hasn't started working yet,
either."
     "It will after you eat, maybe," he said.
     "I hope so."
     We sat in silence and I ate while the news rehashed my
accident, concluding with an update that I was now in the hospital
in Holler's Cove.  Nothing was mentioned about the police barging
in on Mike and I while we were "in the act".
     When I finished eating, Mike carried the tray out of the room
for me.
     "Thanks, Mike," I said as he reached into the closet and
pulled out my suitcase.  He got my toiletries bag and brought me my
toothbrush and toothpaste.
     "You're welcome," he replied, kissing me on the cheek.  "I'll
help you to the bathroom if you want me to."
     "I'd like that," I admitted.
     The IV was on wheels.  Mike lowered the rail down on the bed
and helped me to my feet.  I put my left hand on the unit and, with
him on my right side, I held on to him and the unit and we went
into the bathroom.  Mike held on to me while I brushed my teeth.
     "You need to go potty?" he asked before we left.
     "I might ought to try," I admitted.
     "Call me when you're done," he said and kissed me.
     "You don't want to stay with me while I go?" I teased.
     He grinned.  "I'll pass.  Thanks for the offer though."
     He helped me sit down before he left, closing the door behind
him.
     After getting me back in bed, Mike sat in the recliner and we
watched an old movie.
     "I wish you could sit over here," I said, during a commercial
break.
     "I do, too," he agreed.  "But we might get into trouble if I
do.  And we're already pushing our luck with me being here, since
we're not related."
     "That's true," I had to admit.
     I glanced up at the clock and sighed.  It was one-fifteen and
the medication still hadn't kicked in.  Technically, I hadn't
gotten any rest, either.  I was thankful that Mike was there.  I
was also thankful that the Wilson's hadn't returned yet.
     Mike got up and sat down on the edge of the bed.  Wrapping my
arms around him, I pulled him down onto the bed with me.  "Thank
you again for being here," I whispered against his neck.  I
breathed in the aroma of him as the medication finally kicked in
and, with him mostly on top of me, I fell into a peaceful sleep. 
Again, I knew I was safe in his arms.
     I awoke to the sound of water running in the shower.  I
stretched and yawned.  The clock above the door said it was seven
fifteen.
     I squinted against the bright sunlight hitting the window. 
The blinds were partially closed and the sun hit them at such an
angle that made a bright hazy glow like a halo around the window. 
Sitting up, I knew that it was morning.  I couldn't believe that I
had slept eighteen hours.  My headache was finally gone, but I
still didn't remember anything that had happened before the
accident.
     The IV still poked into my arm.  I lowered the rail on the
left side of the bed and sat up.  I slowly stood up and put my left
hand on the IV and drug it toward the bathroom.  I hoped that Mike
was in the shower instead of any of my family.  Opening the door
and I peered in.  The curtain was closed, but I could see Mike's
shadow through it.  
     I stepped in and closed the door.  If someone came in the
room, they didn't need to see him, or me.  I pulled the hospital
gown aside and emptied my bladder.  I peaked into the shower.
     Mike had his back to the door and was washing his hair.
     "Need someone to wash your back, you handsome hunk you?" I
asked, softly so my voice wouldn't echo too loudly through the
small room.
     He jumped and turned around.  He grinned at me.  "Oh, Honey,
I'd love for you to join me," he replied as the blood rushed to the
center of his body.
     I smiled and cupped his sack in my hand as I leaned in to kiss
him on the lips.  He had already shaved and his lips were soft and
warm.  "Officer Fox told everyone that you were ten inches," I
whispered between kisses.  "Where's the other inch?"
     "I guess I left it in you," he replied.
     "Mm, I guess you'll have to go back in and see if you can find
it."
     "I like that idea, but if you don't get back to bed, you're
going to get wet.  And, not only will we have to explain how you
got wet, the nurse might catch us in here."
     I kissed him again and reluctantly turned to go.  "How's your
head this morning?" he asked.
     "It's not hurting," I replied.
     "Good.  Then maybe we can get out of here today.  I'm going to
go home with you and hopefully, since everything at your apartment
is familiar to you, you will remember who you are."
     I stopped and turned around and watched him grab a towel and
start drying off.  "Bill said he'd come home with me," I said. 
"He's going to take a few days off, but I'd rather have you."
     "No," Mike said, pulling on a pair of clean underwear.  "He
called his boss yesterday afternoon and they have some big project
coming up tomorrow that he has to get ready for.  They won't let
him off."  He pulled the tight material open and reached in and
adjusted his still hard rod.  I wished that I could relieve the
pressure on it for him.  "And, I talked your parents into letting
me go with you," he continued.  "Since we have been together just
about every moment since your accident, I told them that you felt
more comfortable around me than anyone else.  Which is true, isn't it?"
     "Yes," I replied.  I was glad he would be the one to stay with
me.  I was worried about staying with anyone else.  I didn't know
anyone, including myself, so I knew it wouldn't be wise to stay
alone, but there was just something about the Wilsons that bothered
me and I didn't want to stay with them.
     Mike finished dressing and had just gotten me back in bed when
the door opened and a nurse walked it.  "Good morning, Mr. Wilson,"
she said cheerfully.  "And how are we doing this morning?"
     "I don't know about you," I replied, "but I'm doing much
better.  My headache is gone, but I still can't remember anything."
     "I'm glad to hear that," she said, opening the blinds and
letting the sun all the way in.  
     I squinted against the bright light and so did Mike.  "Please
close them," Mike said.  "That's too bright.  Tracy has real
sensitive eyes and it might bring back his headache."
     "Oh, I'm sorry," she said, closing the blinds completely.
     "Thank you," I said.  I wondered if my parents or brother knew
I had sensitive eyes?  If they did, would they have stopped the
nurse from opening the blinds?
     "Dr. Brown will be glad to hear that you're headache is gone,"
she said.  "Since you slept through your supper last night, you
must be starving.  Breakfast will be in shortly."
     "Good," I said.  "I am hungry."
     "That's a good sign," she said.  She took my pulse and my
temperature.
     "Are the Wilson's still here?" I asked Mike after she had
left.
     "No," he replied.  "Since you didn't wake up around six, they
left.  They called about eight, but you were still asleep, so I
told them not to bother coming back since it had started snowing
again."
     "Thank you," I said, taking his hand.  "I really didn't want
them here.  I know it's not right to say that, but something just
feels strange about them."
     He grinned.  "They are very nice," he said.  "After you went
to sleep, I got up and went out to the waiting room.  We had lunch
together and I got to know them better.  You will like them again,
I'm sure.  You used to think the world of them.  And it was you who
told me that, not them."
     Later that afternoon Dr. Brown released me, saying he had done
all he could.  I would have to regain my memory with the help of
family and friends.  He said that he could recommend a good
psychiatrist, but didn't think my amnesia was psychological.
     "What if we hit him on the other side of the head?" Bill
asked.  "I've always seen in movies that if someone gets amnesia by
getting conked on the head, they get their memory back when they
get conked again."
     "That might work," Dr. Brown agreed, "but then it might not. 
And we can't take that risk.  No, I think he'll remember when he's
ready."
     Was that a disappointed look I saw in Bill's expression?  Did
he really want to hit me, or was he just wanting me to get my
memory back?
     Mike took me by the arm and helped me up as Dr. Brown left the
room.  "If you guys will excuse us, I'll help him get dressed and
we can get out of here.  Don't you need to get back to work, Bill?"
     "Yes, I do," he admitted.
     "Okay, why don't you head back and give us a call when you get
off work?  Maybe he'll know us by then."
     "Good idea," Bill said.  He stepped over and kissed me on the
cheek.  "I hope it works, Tracy," he said softly.  "I love you,
Bro."
     I smiled at him and nodded.  "Thank you.  I hope it works,
too."
     Mom and Dad walked him out.  Dr. Brown had already removed the
IV and all I had to do was get dressed.  I was thankful that my
headache had not returned and that Mike was going to be staying
with me.
     Mike's pickup was still at the cabin, so the four of us
climbed into a honey gold sedan, which Dad said was his.  Dad drove
us to a nice section of town.  Nothing looked familiar.  Dad
stopped at the security gate of a nice apartment complex and
pressed a couple of buttons; the gate opened and he drove in.
     "Good thing you gave us the code when you moved in here," Dad
said.
     Mike got our suitcases out of the trunk and carried them to
the door of the apartment that Dad had parked in front of.  The
number was 1001.
     He sat the suitcases down on the porch and used a key to
unlock the door.  "I got these from your car when we left," he
explained.  "I thought you might need them."
     "Good thing you did," I agreed.
     There was a grey welcome mat on the porch in front of the door
for wiping your feet, but the sidewalk and porch had been swept
clean of snow, so our feet were dry and clean.
     Mike opened the door and I stepped into the tiled hallway and
looked around.  Duel mirrors to the right of the front door were
sliding doors of the coat closet.  Mike sat the suitcases down
inside one of the doors.  "We'll put these up later," he said,
removing his coat.  He hung it on a hanger and took my parents
coats and hung them up, too.  "Hand me your coat, Babe," he said. 
"It's warm in here."  Reluctantly, I took my black leather jacket
off and he hung it up in the closet with the others.
     To the left of the front door, across from the mirrored
closet, was an arched doorway that led into a long narrow kitchen. 
There was a breakfast bar that separated the kitchen from the
dining area.  At the end of the hallway a staircase to the right
went upstairs and the living/dining area completed the downstairs
part of the apartment.
     "You decorated this apartment yourself," Mike said, leading me
into the living room.  "And all this furniture is yours."
     There was a corner fire place on the outside wall in the
living room, to the right.  A cream colored sofa with powder blue
throw pillows faced the fireplace and separated the dining area
from the living room.  Two powder blue recliners flanked the coffee
table in front of the sofa.  There was no television in the living
room.  Anyone could sit in either of the chairs or on the sofa and
watch the fireplace, or look outside onto the patio through the
double glass doors.  The drapes were open and I could see a nice
small back yard with a six foot, wooden privacy fence around it.
     "There's a lavatory under here," Mom said, opening a door
underneath the stair case.
     "And upstairs are the bedrooms and your computer," Mike added.
     Mike flipped on the light and led us up the staircase.  I
paused at the landing and looked back at Mom and Dad.  Without
saying anything, I continued up the stairs.  The staircase let us
off in a hallway.  To the right was the wall that separated this
apartment from the one next door.  In front of us, the inside wall
of the master bedroom.  Following Mike to the left of the stairs,
he lead us down the hall.  On the right was the door to the master
bedroom, which overlooked the back yard.  On the left side of the
hall was the door to the second bedroom, which overlooked the
parking lot.  At the end of the hall was the bathroom, which had a
door to the hall, plus a door to each of the bedrooms.
     The head of a queen-sized bed sat against the wall that
separated the master bedroom from the hallway.  The bed was covered
with dark blue comforter with matching pillow shams.  It was a nice
bedroom.  There was even a powder blue wing backed chair in the
corner beside the window.  Someone could sit in it and look out
into the back yard if they wanted to.  There was no TV in this room
either.
     Mike led me into the bathroom.  A dark blue shower curtain and
matching towels and toilet set confirmed that I must really like
blue. 
     From the bathroom, he led me into the second bedroom.  A desk
sat facing the bathroom door.  Next to the bathroom door was a TV
stand with a twenty-five inch color TV sitting on it.  Anyone
sitting at the desk, could look out the window, watch TV, and still
see the bedroom and bathroom doors.  A dark blue, queen-sized
sleeper sofa sat against the inside wall.  There was plenty of room
to pull the bed out without having to move the desk.
     Behind the desk was a book case that took up most of the wall. 
There was a nice library.  Mike took two books off the center shelf
and handed one to me.  "This is your first novel," he said.  The
book didn't look familiar.  The picture of me on the back was the
same one that had been on the book I had autographed for Mike that
he had left at the cabin.
     I took the next book.  "And this is your second novel.  It's
the one you saw at the cabin."
     "Those are your copies," Mom said.  "You wanted to keep one
copy of each for yourself."
     I handed Mike the books back and he replaced them.  He picked
up another book off my desk.  "And this is your latest," he said. 
"It's the one you were going to have a book signing in Cripple
Creek, for."
     A chill ran through me as I took the book from him.  What was
it about that book?  'A Quill in the Heart'.  Was it really an
autobiography of sorts, as the gossiping nurse had speculated on in
the emergency room?  Or was I just being paranoid?
     I put the book back on the desk.  I would have to confront it,
but not now.  I wanted to be alone with it.  I would read it after
the Wilson's had left.  Mike wouldn't mind.  He would think that it
would help me regain my memory.
     "Is anything seeming familiar?" Mother asked, hopefully.
     "No,"  I admitted.
     "When you were younger," Dad said, "you used to keep a daily
journal.  It's probably in your computer now, if you still do.  Why
don't you see if there's one in there?"
     "That's a good idea, Tom," Mother agreed.
     I stared at the computer.  I had no idea how to turn it on.
     Mike sensed my dilemma and turned it on for me.  It booted up
and prompted him for a password.  "Now what are you going to do?"
I asked.  "I have no idea what it might be."
     "Maybe you don't have one," he said, using the mouse to click
the 'ok' button.  Music came from the speakers and the desktop came
up.  "Good," he said.  "We're in."
     "There's an icon that says 'Journal'," Dad pointed out.
     Mike double clicked on it.  A program opened and a box popped
up requesting a password.  "Now it's requiring a real password,"
Mike said with a sigh.  "Any ideas what you might have used?"
     I shook my head.
     "Oh well, you can play around with the computer and maybe
something will click," he suggested.
     "Okay," I agreed.
     I sat down at the computer and stared at it.  There weren't
very many icons on the desktop.  The background was a picture of a
tropical island on the other side of an inlet that had been taken
under the silhouette of a couple of palm trees at dusk.  It looked
nice, but there was nothing was familiar about it.  
     Dad sighed and looked at his watch.  "It's four-thirty.  Why
don't we go, Brenda?" he asked.  "Maybe Tracy will be more
comfortable if we're not all hovering over him."
     "That's probably a good idea," Mike agreed.  "Why don't you
stay up here and play with the computer and I'll show your parents
out and bring our suitcases up?"
     "Okay," I said.  Mom kissed me on the cheek and they left.  I
leaned back in the chair and stared at the computer screen.  The
cursor turned to a red volcano that began spewing yellow lava.  The
screen cleared.  A cartoon drawing appeared on the screen.  It
stayed there for a moment before the screen cleared again and
another cartoon replaced it.
     I heard Mike in the master bedroom.  I didn't want to play
with the computer.  I wanted to be with Mike.  I wanted to feel his
warm strong arms around me.  I wanted his hard dick up inside of
me.  I didn't care who I was.  I wanted to make love to him.  The
only thing that made me feel safe was when he had those strong arms
around me.
     I got up and went downstairs.  I needed something to drink. 
The kitchen wasn't familiar either.  I thought I would have to
search for a glass, but they were in the first place I looked.  I
wondered if it was because I remembered where I put them, or if it
was just the logical place for glasses.
     I filled the glass with ice from the dispenser in the door of
the refrigerator.  I had just filled it with water from the door
when Mike's warm lips touched my neck.
     "Mm, that sounds like a good idea," he said.  He had already
gotten himself a glass out of the cabinet.  I turned around and
handed him my glass and took his from him and filled it up. 
"Thanks," he said.  "Are you remembering anything?  That's what you
used to do."
     "No," I admitted.  There were swinging saloon type doors at
the back of the kitchen which led into the dining area so people
didn't have to go out into the hallway and down to the
living/dining areas to get to the breakfast bar or the dining
table.  I led Mike through the doors and crossed to the living area
and sat down on the couch.  He sat down next to me and I took a
drink and sat the glass on a coaster on the coffee table.  Turning
my back to him, I leaned up against his chest and he put his arms
around me and held me.
     "You didn't play with the computer much," he whispered as he
nuzzled my ear.
     "No," I replied.  "I didn't really know what to do with it."
     "How's your head feel?" he asked.
     "Fine," I replied as the doorbell rang.
     "Who could that be?" he asked.
     "I don't know," I replied.  "But I'm really not in the mood
for company.  Would you mind getting rid of them?"
     "Sure, be glad to," he replied.
     He went to the door.  "Hi.  What are you doing here?" I heard
him ask in a guarded tone.
     "I heard about Tracy's accident and by the time I got to the
hospital they had released him," a deep voice said.  The voice was
even deeper than Mike's.
     I closed my eyes.  The image of a tall handsome man with brown
hair, brown eyes filled my mind.  To my surprise, he was nude and
had an eight inch hard cock.  He had a smooth body.  He smiled at
me with a lopsided grin. 
     "He really doesn't want to see anyone right now," Mike said. 
"Especially not you."
     "I understand," the voice replied.  "But I'd like to see him
for just a minute.  I've got something that might help him regain
his memory."
     "Okay, come on in," Mike said with a sigh.
     The sofa sat far enough in from the hall door that I wasn't
able to see the front door.  I turned to face the door and waited
expectantly for Mike and the stranger to appear in the doorway.  
     Butterflies fluttered frantically in my stomach.  I stood up
and wiped sweaty palms on my jeans.  Mike stepped through the door. 
He turned around to look at the man behind him.  He started to say
something as the man - the image I had seen in my mind, only
dressed - stepped into the room.  "Tim," I said before Mike could
speak.
     I noticed Mike stiffen, but he didn't speak.
     "How did you know it was me?" Tim asked, crossing to me.  He
wore brown leather jacket over a brown dress shirt with a brown and
gold tie and a brown pair of dress slacks.
     "I don't know," I replied.  "I heard your voice and your image
appeared in my mind.  I didn't know who you were until you stepped
into the room."
     He hugged me and I melted at his touch.  "I'm glad," he
whispered as he gently kissed me on the cheek.
     Tim was too tall for me to see Mike behind him.  I pulled away
from Tim's embrace and caught Mike's worried look.  Why wasn't he
happy that I remembered Tim?  That was a step in the right
direction, wasn't it?
     "I heard you say you had something that might help me
remember," I said, sitting back down.
     "I do," he replied.  He reached into his pants pocket and
pulled out a ring and handed it to me.
     I looked at it for a moment.  It was a mans ring.  
     I read the inscription.  "To Tracy, with all my love, Tim."
     Holding the ring in my right hand, I kissed it and closed my
eyes.  My mind blurred.  There was a crisp wind blowing and I was
standing at the front door of the mall.  I had just finished a
three hour book signing of my first novel in a book store at the
mall.  A red Ford Mustang pulled up in front of me and Tim jumped
out and rushed around and opened the door for me.  He put the box
I had with me in the trunk and jumped in and leaned over to kiss
me.
     "How'd it go, Sweetheart?" he asked.
     "Great," I replied.  "I sold a hundred and fifty-five books." 
I flexed my right hand.  "And boy do I have writer's cramp."
     "I imagine," he replied with a chuckle.  
     "Where do you want to go for dinner to celebrate?  Or do you
want me to cook?"
     "Mark's Hide Out," he replied.  "We have a reservation."
     "Oh?  You were planning this, weren't you?"
     "Sure were," he replied with a mischievous grin.
     Mark's Hide Out was a gay restaurant that over looked the
lake.  Luckily, Tim had just came from work and was still dressed
up.  I had been at the book signing and was also wearing a suit and
tie.  Mark's Hide Out was not a casual dining experience.  You had
to dress for dinner.
     We had a wonderful candle light dinner at a table in the
corner next to the fireplace.  After we finished eating, I leaned
across the table and kissed him on the lips.  "I love you," I said.
     "I love you, too, Tracy," he replied with his lopsided grin. 
"Congratulations on your first book."
     He held up his glass of wine.  "Here's to many more."
     "I'll drink to that," I replied.  We touched our glasses and
drank to the toast.
     "I have something for you," he said, reaching into his suit
coat pocket.
     "Oh?" I asked, surprised.
     He handed me a little black box.  "Now that you're famous, I
just wanted to give you something for you to remember me by."
     "I don't think I could ever forget you," I replied with a
smile.  I opened the box.  The gold band had a row of diamonds
across the top.  Tears swelled in my eyes as I read the
inscription.  "To Tracy, with all my love, Tim."
     "I love it, thank you," I said leaning across the table to
kiss him.
     Tears trickled down my cheek and I opened my eyes as Tim wiped
them away.  "What are you remembering, Sweetheart?" he asked.
     "When you gave this to me," I replied.
     I felt Mike's hand on my left thigh.  While I was remembering,
he had sat down next to me.  "What else do you remember, Babe?" he
asked.
     "Don't rush him, Mike," Tim said, softly.
     I looked from one handsome face to the other.  "Nothing," I
replied with a sigh.
     I got up and crossed to the patio doors.  The wind was
beginning to get up and it started snowing again while I watched. 
If this was my ring, I asked myself, looking at it, what was Tim
doing with it?  Why would I give it back to him?  Why did we break
up?  If we broke up, why did he call me Sweetheart?  I could
remember nothing else.  I was confused again.  A nagging pain crept
into my forehead.  I didn't want to ask them what was going on.  I
had to remember that for myself.  How would I know they weren't
lying to me if I had them tell me?  
     Mother.  Mother would be able to tell me the truth.  But would
she?  Did she even know the real truth?  Some people tell their
parents versions of the truth that won't hurt them, leaving out
very important details that make the truth even worse than the
parent needs to know.  No.  I couldn't ask Mother.  I had to either
ask them or remember it on my own.
     I closed my eyes as my headache grew worse.  
     "How are you doing, Tim?" Mike asked.  I could tell he was
forcing himself to be polite to him.  Why?  Was it because we had
been lovers and Mike wanted me for himself?
     "I'm really enjoying the job," he replied.  "I miss Tracy like
crazy though."
     "I know what you mean," Mike replied.  "I do, too."
     "So you two haven't gotten together since I left?" Tim asked.
     "No.  I've tried to get him to give up on the idea of me only
being around a few days a month, but he won't do it."
     "You haven't screwed around or 'nothing?" Tim asked
unbelievably.
     "Not until yesterday," Mike replied, softly.  "We both came
right as the police barged in."
     "Ouch.  That must have been embarrassing."
     "Was it ever.  It was the first time Tracy ever came without
me touching him."
     "He never did with me either."
     "Great, it's snowing again," Mike said with a sigh.  "Have you
gotten a hotel room yet?"
     "No.  When I got to the airport I tried to call you, but had
heard that you were with him and wasn't surprised when you didn't
answer.  So, I took a cab to the hospital and you had just left, so
I came straight over here. I started to call from the gate, but
figured that if he didn't remember me, he might not let me in. 
Good thing he hasn't moved since I left, or I wouldn't have known
the code.
     "I guess you're planning on sleeping with him tonight, aren't
you?" Tim asked.
     "Well, I was hoping to," Mike admitted.  "But it's up to him. 
You might as well stay anyway.  You can sleep in the computer room,
if he doesn't want to sleep with you."
     I couldn't believe they were sitting there talking like this,
as though I wasn't even in the room.  Didn't Tim care that I had
slept with Mike?  Or, were we a threesome?  Of course, I knew they
were talking this way to try to jar my memory.  It wasn't working. 
Just making my head hurt worse and making me more confused.
     "Did you ever learn to cook anything but scrambled egg
sandwiches?" Tim asked.
     "No," Mike replied.  "Are you hungry?  We can order a pizza. 
I don't think Tracy needs to cook."
     "I don't know if they will deliver or not in this weather,"
Tim said.
     I leaned foreword and rested my forehead against the cold
window and closed my eyes.
     "We can give it a shot," Mike offered.
     I didn't hear them go into the kitchen, but I heard Mike on
the phone ordering a pizza a moment later.  
     The pain faded into the background; just enough to let me know
it was still there.  With the wind howling outside, I closed my
eyes and, in my mind's eye, I stood in front of a reference
computer at the local library.  I pressed a few buttons and the
book I was searching for appeared on the screen.  I wrote down the
information.
     "Shit, what's wrong with this fucking thing?" I heard a deep
voice next to me.
     I looked to my right.  A tall handsome young man with blue
eyes and black hair stood next to me.  It was the middle of summer
so he wore a half t-shirt and a pair of grey sweat shorts that bore
the Holler's Cove's University logo on the left thigh.  I could see
that he had a small trail of black hair that began at the base of
his navel and disappeared into those tight shorts.
     "It's got a mind of it's own," I replied with a smile.
     He returned my smile.  "You seemed to be able to talk to yours
pretty easily.  Can you help me?"
     "Sure," I replied, stepping so close to him that our bodies
touched.  He didn't step away.  "What are you looking for?"
     He grinned down at me as I melted into his deep blue eyes.  He
gave me the name of the book he needed.  I turned and pressed a few
buttons on the terminal he couldn't get to cooperate.  The book
appeared, but wasn't available until the following week.
     "I guess you'll have to meet me here in a week to search for
it again," he said, softly.  "Thanks."
     "My pleasure," I replied.  "Same time?"
     He smiled.  "I'm Mike Spears," he said, offering me his hand.
     "Tracy Wilson.  Nice to meet you."
     "I've got some more books to look for, will you help me?" he
asked.
     We found the other three books he needed.  They were even
filed on the right shelf in the right place.  We checked out our
selections and he followed me out the door.
     "Would you like to go get something to eat?" he asked.
     I looked at my watch.  It was five-forty and I was getting
hungry.  We spent the rest of the evening together; sitting at a
table in a little restaurant that he had suggested would be a good
place to eat. 
     The waiter gave us an impatient look as he left after filling
our iced-tea glasses for what must have been the millionth time
that night.  I grinned and glanced at my watch.
     "Oh my goodness," I exclaimed.  "It's nine-thirty."
     He laughed.  "I sure have enjoyed this evening, Tracy," Mike
said, softly.
     "So have I," I admitted.
     We had not discussed our sexual preferences, but the way I
kept looking at him, Mike had to know I found him attractive and
was very interested.  I got the same vibes from him.
     "There's a new gay restaurant over on Travis called 'Mark's
Hide Out'," Mike said.  "It just opened last week.  How'd you like
to have dinner with me there tomorrow night?"
     "I'd like that," I replied.
     It was the first of several dates.  We had a nice candlelight
dinner and danced.  He took me home afterwards.  I opened my
apartment door and Mike pulled me into his warm strong arms.  "I
had a great time," he said.
     "I did, too," I replied.  "Thanks for dinner."  I kissed him
gently on the lips.  Mike pulled me into the entrance hall and
closed the door with his foot.  
     "Would you like to spend the night?"  I asked, between kisses.
     "I thought you'd never ask," he replied.
     "Tracy?  Are you okay?" Mike asked, bringing me back to
reality.
     I still stood with my head against the patio door.  Opening my
eyes, I turned around to look at him.  He and Tim both stood at the
end of the sofa with worried expressions on their handsome faces.
     "No," I replied.  "I've got a headache again and I'm more
confused than ever."
     "Dr. Brown gave me some medicine for your headache, in case it
came back," Mike said.  "I put it in the bathroom.  I'll go get it
for you."
     "Thank you," I said as he ran up the stairs.
     "Are you hungry?" Tim asked, wrapping his arms around me and
pulling me against his warm, strong chest.  He had taken his coat
and tie off.  "Mike and I ordered some pizza.  They said they
should be here shortly."
     "Not really," I replied, breathing in the aroma of his
cologne.
     "Maybe I can shed some light on your confusion," he said. 
"Ask away."
     I nuzzled his neck.  "I gave you this cologne, didn't I?" I
asked.
     "Well, yes you did," he admitted.  "But I'm sure that's not
confusing you, is it?"
     "No,"  I replied.  He pulled me over to the couch and we sat
down.  He put his arm around me and I lay down with my head on his
chest.  I felt like I belonged there, but it wasn't right.  I
belonged in Mike's arms now, or did I?  Holding Tim felt good, but
I didn't have the peaceful, safe feeling I got when I was in Mike's
arms.
     I raised up and sighed as Mike bounded down the stairs.  "I
met Mike before I met you, didn't I?" I asked.
     "Yeah," he replied, putting his hand on my shoulder and gently
massaging it.
     "I just remembered meeting Mike, but I don't remember meeting
you."
     I noticed a sparkle in Mike's deep blue eyes as he smiled and
handed me two pills and picked up my glass of water.  He was happy
that I remembered meeting him.  I didn't mention that I remembered
the first time we made love, but I could tell he knew.
     I swallowed the pills with water and Tim sat up and leaned
over and kissed me on the cheek when I sat the glass on the
coaster.  "Why don't you run upstairs and lay down for a while to
let those pills kick in," he suggested, softly.  "When the pizza
gets here, Mike will go get you and you can eat with us.  If you
haven't remembered any more by then, we'll talk.  Okay?"
     I looked up at Mike; he nodded and offered me his hand.  I
took it. "Okay," I agreed, standing.  Mike picked me up and carried
me upstairs.  Tim watched but didn't say anything or move from
where he sat.
     Mike lay me gently on the bed and removed my shoes.  He pulled
the comforter out from under me and covered me up with it.  Leaning
down to kiss me on the lips, he said, "I love you, Tracy.  Get some
rest."
     "Thank you, Mike," I said, wrapping my arms around him.  I
pulled him down to me and we kissed.  He kicked his shoes off and
lay down next to me.  I pulled him over on top of me as we
continued to kiss.
     "We'd better stop or you won't get any rest," he whispered as
he pressed his hard body against mine.  He was on top of me now. 
I held him tight and nuzzled his neck.  The safe feeling of being
underneath him swept over me and I closed my eyes and drifted off
into a deep peaceful slumber.
     I wasn't sure where I was.  I remembered going to sleep with
Mike laying on top of me.  Loud music made my head hurt worse.  I
glanced down at the wine cooler in my hand.  It was almost empty. 
How'd that get there?  How'd I get here?  Where was I?
     "Want me to freshen that for you?" Tim asked.
     "No thanks," I replied, looking into his brown eyes.
     "I'm really glad you came," he said.  "Mike said you don't
care for loud music.  Sorry, everyone loves it loud and they would
complain if we turned it down just for you.  Of course, the police
might be here shortly if the neighbors start complaining.  Then
we'll have to turn it down."
     I glanced around the room.  There were several men dancing
with each other to the loud music.  I felt I should know these
people, but who were they?  
     "By the way," he said offering me his hand, "I'm Tim
Hardgrove.  I'm throwing this bash.  He didn't get a chance to
introduce us when you came in."
     "Nice to meet you," I said, shaking his hand.  I was dreaming. 
Dreaming of the day I had met him.  "Where is Mike?" I asked.
     "Right here, Babe," he said, appearing beside me and handing
me a glass of Coke.  He took the wine cooler from me and sat it on
the table beside us.  He leaned down and kissed me on the lips. 
"Sorry it took so long.  Jeremy cornered me and you know how long
winded she can be."
     "Yeah," Tim replied, "and you'd better hang onto Mike, tight,
Tracy, Jeremy's been after him for a long time."
     "No problem there," Mike said pulling me against his chest. 
"I've got all I need right here."
     Warm lips pressed against mine.  I snuggled closer to Mike and
returned the kiss.  "Wake up, Sweetheart," he said, softly. 
"Pizza's here."
     I reached between us and cupped his crotch in my hand through
his tight jeans.  "I want sausage," I replied.
     "Oh, Baby," he sighed.  "You don't know how happy it makes me
feel to hear you say that.  But do you want mine or Tim's?" he
asked.
     "Tim was a friend of yours when I met him at a party you took
me to," I said.  "But I haven't remembered how you and I split up
and he and I got together; or how or why he and I split up."
     "How's your headache?" he asked, evading the undertones that 
hinted that I wanted him to explain it all to me.
     Releasing his crotch, I wrapped my arms around him.  "It's
gone," I replied.  
     "That's good," he said and kissed me gently on the lips. 
     "Hey, you two going to come eat or fuck?" Tim's voice boomed
through the room.  I could hear the jealousy in his tone.  I still
could not remember when he and I got together.
     "Mm," Mike moaned and pushed himself up, pressing his hard rod
against mine.  "We'd better get downstairs, Babe," he said.  "Tim's
our guest for a while, so we don't want to ignore him, now do we?"
     "No," I agreed.  We got up and he slipped his arm around me
and the three of us went downstairs.  Tim had sat the table and the
pizza was in the center, waiting for us.
     "Tracy finally remembered when he met you," Mike told Tim as
he chewed his pizza.
     Tim placed his hand on my arm.  "I'm glad you're starting to
remember things, Sweetheart," he said.
     "I am too," I admitted.  "But I'm getting more confused every
time I do."
     He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.  "I know.  Our
lives really are confusing, so it's not that surprising."
     "When did you and I start dating?" I asked.
     Tim and Mike exchanged worried glances, but neither said
anything.  Were they lying to me?  Were my dreams of them that I
thought were memories just something my confused mind wanted to
believe and they really had never been my lovers?  After all, in
the book at the cabin, I did only write, "To Mike, with lots of
love, Tracy D. Wilson."  And, had that really been my handwriting
and signature?  And what about the ring Tim gave me?  Was that
something Tim had just picked up on his way here?  After all, what
was he doing with it if it was my ring?  If we had split up and I
gave it back to him, why hadn't he sold it?  And most importantly,
why was it every time Mike held me, it felt so right and I felt so
safe?  What was he protecting me from?
     The nagging pain that always came when I started asking myself
questions like these rushed to greet me.  I knew that I shouldn't
take any more medication for a while, but this was the worst pain
I'd had since I'd gotten rid of the headaches in the hospital.  I
closed my eyes and rubbed my forehead.
     Mike's warm, strong hand pulled me to my feet and he wrapped
his arms around me.  "I'm sorry you're hurting again," he whispered
against my ear.  He picked me up and carried me upstairs and lay me
down on the bed.  
     Mike removed my cloths and covered me with the sheet and
comforter.  "I can't give you any more pain pills yet," he said,
still talking softly.  He slipped his cloths off, except for his
tight cotton briefs, and crawled into bed with me.  "And we really
shouldn't leave Tim alone downstairs, either, but I think you need
me up here worse."
     I lay my head on his strong chest and he gently massaged my
temple with the tips of his fingers.  The pain in my head left as
quickly as it came.  Again, laying in his warm arms, I was safe. 
Comfortable.  That's where I belonged.
     Neither of us spoke.  We lay there as the darkness settled and
listened to the howling wind outside.  I wasn't sleepy.  I needed
to know the answers to my questions.  I thought I saw a movement in
the doorway and looked up.  Tim stood there.
     "How's he doing?" Tim asked, softly.
     "Better," I replied.  "My headache is gone again."
     "That's good," Tim said, stepping closer to the bed.  
     "I put up the pizza and cleaned up the dishes," he added,
turning the beside light on.
     "Thank you," I said.
     "Why don't you have a seat in the chair in the corner?" Mike
asked.  "Maybe we can refresh Tracy's memory.  But seriously, Tim,
do you want him to remember everything?"
     "Well, part of me says no, but there are too many people out
there who love him for me to be selfish.  It's also obvious that if
either of us is going to have him again, it's going to be you."
     Tim got up and walked around the bed and lay down behind me. 
He pressed up against my back, placing his hand on my hip.  A chill
ran through me as he kissed me on the neck.  I couldn't be cold. 
We were all three laying under the sheet and the down comforter and
I was sandwiched between their warm hard bodies.  No, that wasn't
a chill of cold.  That was chill of terror.  What had happened that
not only did I not feel any attraction to Tim, but I felt fear
around him?
     Tim sighed and rolled over onto his back as I involuntarily
shivered at his touch.  "It's not going to work, Mike," he said,
softly.  "I guess he subconsciously remembers, but his conscious
won't let him remember."
     "Sorry," Mike said, pulling tighter against him.  "I was
hoping that would do it, but it didn't."
     I looked up into Mike's blue eyes.  "Would you please tell me
what is going on?" I asked. "I am tired of being confused.  And it
gives me a headache when I get confused."
     Mike sighed.  "I guess you're right, Sweetheart," he said. 
"We'd better tell him, Tim."
     "Yeah, go ahead.  He'll probably figure it out soon enough
anyway."
     "You and I had been together for a couple of weeks before you
met Tim at the party," Mike began.  "We spent most of our free time
here.  
     "When I got the job at MediTech," he continued, "you were
happy for me until I had to start travelling.  While I was away for
my first week, I called you every night and we'd talk for about an
hour.  Sometimes we'd beat off together, other times we'd just
talk.  When I got home, we spent most of the weekend in bed making
up for lost time.
     "When I took my first two week trip," he continued, "I called
you every night, too.  When I got home, I got my phone bill and
just about freaked out.  You weren't published yet, so you were
still working full time and insisted on helping me with the phone
bill.
     "After that, you insisted that I only call a couple times a
week and when I did, we both mostly worried about the phone bill
instead of enjoying talking to each other.  We stopped beating off
together over the phone, too.  We really loved each other but we
kind of went our separate ways since I was hardly ever home.  After
a couple of months like that, you decided you needed someone at
home every night, and, since I enjoy my job and you didn't want me
to give it up for you, you broke it off."
     "A couple of weeks after you broke up," Tim began, "Mike was
out of town on business and The Queen Mary - in case you don't
remember it, it's the gay bar that's a house boat that's moored to
the dock on the lake, just around the bend from Mark's Hide Out."
     "No, I didn't remember," I admitted.
     "Anyway, they had a drag show one Friday night and I decided
to go.  You were there by yourself and since you and Mike weren't
together anymore, I picked you up.  Mike was pretty pissed when he
found out that we had started dating, but understood that he
couldn't keep you to himself since he didn't want to give up his
job and you wouldn't let him.  So, we stayed friends.  
     "After we had been together for about six months," Tim
continued, "you got your first book published.  That's when I gave
you the ring."
     Tim made no move to touch me as he spoke.  I didn't roll over
to look at him, either.  I lay with my head on Mike's shoulder and
Mike gently rubbed my right arm as we listened to Tim.
     Tim sighed and got up.  "I need a drink," he said.  He made no
offer to bring us anything.  He left the room.
     "Sorry, Hon," Mike said.  "Do you want me to continue, or wait
for him?"
     I closed my eyes and sighed.  "Why do I get the feeling I
really don't want to know, Mike?" I asked.
     "Because you would be better off not knowing," he replied. 
Mike pushed me over onto my back and rolled on top of me.  He
looked into my eyes and kissed me gently on the lips.
     "I love you, Tracy," he said.  "So does Tim.  Tim made a big
mistake and he's paying for it.  It cost him not only his job, but
you, too.  Tim and I met in college and we were friends up until he
made his big mistake.  He's not my type and I'm not his.  We've
never screwed around.  I wasn't happy with him when he started
dating you, or when made his mistake, but I forgave him for dating
you because we were friends.  But you and I couldn't forgive him
and neither could his boss."
     "What'd he do, kill someone?" I asked, worriedly.
     "No.  Your second book had just been published and you had
just about finished 'A Quill in the Heart'."
     I placed my finger over Mike's lips to quiet him.  Tears
swelled in my eyes as I remembered what Tim had done.  "I printed
out a copy of the manuscript to send to my editor," I said; neither
of us noticed Tim standing in the doorway.  "After I had mailed it,
Tim got into my computer and changed who it was by, printed it out
and gave it to his boss.  He was working in the mail room of a
publishing company and told his boss he wrote it.
     "Luckily for me, I had also mailed a copy of it to myself,
which he didn't know about.  I had received it back a few days
before, so I had proof that I had written it. 
     "Mr. Holt called one Saturday to tell him that he was going to
publish it for him, but he had a few mistakes to correct.  You were
out of town and Tim and I had gone shopping so Mr. Holt left the
message on the answering machine.  When we got home, Tim started
bringing in the groceries and I ran upstairs and listened to the
messages on the machine.
     "I was so mad at Tim for trying to steal my manuscript that I
threw the ring at him and told him to get out."
     As tears spilled freely from my eyes, I continued to remember
that dreadful day and continued to tell Mike what had happened. 
After I had thrown the ring at Tim and told him to get out, he
grabbed me and shoved me against the glass mirror in the hallway.
Luckily, it hadn't broken.
     "I am sick and tired of you getting all the  attention around
here," Tim had said, hotly.  "I am going to get this one published
and you're going to keep your mouth shut, is that clear?"
     Luckily, Tim had left the door open and Mike showed up right
then.  Since Mike and I had been lovers before, he had the code for
the front gate and never bothered calling us, he just came in. 
Mike heard what Tim had said and before I could reply, Mike grabbed
Tim by the shirt collar, yanked him off me and slammed him up
against the wall beside the kitchen door.
     "Don't even think about stealing Tracy's work," Mike snapped.
He drew back and punched Tim in the nose, leaving it bleeding. 
"Now you get the fuck out of here and I'll dump your shit on the
sidewalk by the gate.  And if I ever catch you around here again,
I'll beat the shit out of you, you hear?"
     Tim had left, nursing his bloody nose.  He hadn't come back,
until tonight.  Mike had spent the week with me just to make sure,
but he had slept on the sleeper sofa in my office.  I hadn't been
in the mood to have any one as a lover at that point.
     "I didn't pressed charges," I continued, telling Mike, "but
you and his boss told me I should have.  Mr. Holt was pissed and he
fired him.  He told me I should press charges, too."
     Neither Mike nor I noticed Tim leave the room.  I kept my eyes
closed as Mike gently kissed me on the lips.  "I'm so sorry, Baby,"
he whispered.  "I kind of wish you hadn't wanted to remember."
     "So am I," I admitted.  
     We heard the front door close downstairs.  Mike didn't say
anything, but he got up and rushed out the door.  He came back a
few minutes later.  "Tim's gone," he said, crawling back into bed. 
"He didn't take anything.  He left this laying on the breakfast
bar," he handed me the ring and a piece of paper. 
     I took it and sighed.  Tim had moved out of town after that. 
He had not given me or Mike any good reason for stealing my
manuscript.  And we had not seen or heard from him since that day,
until tonight.
     I looked at the paper.  Tim had written, "I'm sorry, Tracy. 
I hoped that you could forgive me, but I understand if you can't.
I'm glad you got your memory back, even though I have lost you
again.  Goodbye, Tracy, Love always, Tim."
     Although I still didn't know why Tim had stolen my manuscript,
I now knew why I had been afraid of his touch.  He had threatened
me that day.  He had never been violent before.  I also knew why I
felt safe in Mike's arms.  Not only had he pulled me out of the
accident, but he had stopped Tim from hurting me.
     "I'll pawn this tomorrow," I said, tossing the ring over onto
the night stand.  It bounced and rolled off the stand and stopped
against the door frame. 
     Mike leaned down and kissed me on the lips.  "I love you,
Tracy," he said.
     "I love you, too, Mike.  I don't care if you want to keep your
job.  I'm a published author now.  I can buy a notebook computer
and go with you.  I can pay the difference of what it costs for two
people at the hotels and we can be together nightly.  If you want
me to, that is."
     He leaned down to kiss me again.  "I want you to, Tracy," he
said.
     I wrapped my arms around his warm, hard body and kissed him
with all the love I had bottled up in side of me.  We belonged
together.  I was safe in his arms and I remembered everything.  I
even knew why Bill had wanted to conk me on the head, he had a good
sense of humor and he really would have wanted me to remember him.
     "I put the condoms in the drawer," I whispered.
     He grinned at me.  "Now that you remember everything, are you
sure you want to?"
     "I told you before dinner that I wanted sausage," I reminded
him.  "Now get that big dick in me," I whispered, kissing him
passionately on the lips.