Date: Fri, 14 Dec 2007 14:53:33 -0500
From: Tinnean <tinneantoo@embarqmail.com>
Subject: Stick With Me, Kid Part 17/End

Note: John Clayton, Lord Greystoke, belongs to Edgar Rice Burroughs, as
does his wife, who was the former Jane Porter, and Lieutenant Paul D'Arnot.
The anecdote of Lord Greystoke being turned down for the part of Tarzan is
in one of the books. Johnny was unsure of the accent because the first
language of man that Tarzan was taught was French. The golden lion is
Jad-bal-ja. According to the glossary at the back of Tarzan the Terrible,
the name of John Clayton's yacht, Jad-id-bu, translates as The Silver Moon
in the language of Pal-ul-don.

Stick With Me, Kid
Part 17/End

I stood in the doorway of the bar of the Honolulu Ritz. Teak. Ebony. Brass
fittings. Smart and expensive. I ignored it all, concentrating instead on
the occupants of the room.

An elegantly dressed man approached me. "Yes?" His tone was disdainful.

"I'm looking for someone." I kept my voice even. Too many times since I'd
been out on my own had I been addressed in that manner, but I'd learned the
hard way that you didn't make a scene in a place like this.

"No doubt. However," his gaze swept over me, taking in the hair that was
long enough to be restrained in a tail, and the clothes which, while new,
were obviously not custom-made for me, and his lip curled. "I think you had
better leave. We do not serve your sort in this establishment!"

On the other hand...

Before I could create a scene, "Johnny! What are you doing here, kid?"
Mr. Denham was coming toward me from the other side of the room. "John,
this is who I was telling you about."

Beside him was a tall, powerfully built man. His black hair was combed back
from a broad forehead, and his intelligent gray eyes missed nothing of what
was going on in the bar.

He appeared to be close to my lover's age and wore a white suit that spoke
quietly of wealth and style and was obviously custom-made to fit his
frame. The man had panache.

I swallowed. He was the epitome of male beauty. How could I compete with
him? Then I remembered Charley's words: 'If you want him... fight for him.'

"Is there a problem, Henry?" The man's voice was lightly accented. I
couldn't tell if it was British or French.

"Not at all, Lord Greystoke. I was just telling this... person that I was
sure he'd be more comfortable at Pierre's. It's just across town, and it
caters to his sort."

For a second my lover's eyes were almost black with fury. His eyelids
lowered, and when they rose again, the expression was gone, replaced by
affability. I wondered if I had actually seen that raw emotion.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk." Mr. Denham was shaking his head sadly. "You don't
recognize him! Ah, Johnny, I told you you can't go slumming like this!
These Rockefellers, Henry." He put an arm over the man's shoulders and
squeezed, the gesture filled with cordiality. "They can be such madcap
scamps. Isn't that right, John?"

His companion simply raised an eyebrow.

Henry's eyes bulged from his head. "Rock... Rock... Oh! Oh, my!
Please... Come this way! I beg your pardon! But really, Mr. Rockefeller,
you could hardly blame me..." He was ushering us to a table that was off to
the side. I had no doubt that he would find a way to make sure the patrons
of the bar became aware of our presence. "And of course, it will be the
Ritz's pleasure to pick up your tab."

"Uh... thank you."

Henry pulled out my chair himself, and waited until I was seated. He
snapped his fingers imperiously, and a waiter appeared. "Whatever is
Mr. Rockefeller's pleasure, George."

"Two beers." My lover ordered for us. "Are you still drinking absinthe,
John?" The Englishman nodded. "And an absinthe for Lord Greystoke."

The waiter bowed and disappeared. Henry remained, a vacuous smile on his
face.

"Henry, we have business to discuss," Lord Greystoke said gently.

The man started and flushed. "Of course, my lord. Please, feel free to call
on me for anything." He winked broadly. "Anything!"  He went back to his
place by the door, but I could feel his eyes on us.

"I wonder what he was offering us," Lord Greystoke murmured.

"Dancing girls for you, no doubt, John."

"And harem boys for your friend, Carl?"

There was no malice in his words, but my lover frowned. He usually had a
good sense of humor. I wondered if he didn't like the idea of me having a
harem of boys.

I liked that he didn't like the idea.

I cleared my throat. "Mr. Denham, that was really bad of you, making him
think I was a Rockefeller."

"Well, the man's an ass. And it was better than you pulling out your
shiv. Places like this really don't like it when you get blood on their
nice floors. Besides, I never said you were Rockefeller. I just observed
that they could be madcap scamps." Butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. I
wanted to straddle his hips, rub my prick against his groin, and kiss that
mouth until it sighed passionately into mine.

I was so wrapped up in that thought that I missed the rest of his
words. "What?"

"What are you doing here?" he asked again patiently.

"Looking for you." I nodded toward his companion. "Are you going to
introduce us, Carl?"

"This is John Clayton. He's an old acquaintance of mine. John, my partner,
John Smith."

No hesitation, no embarrassment, no scrambling for the right word. I felt
my chest swell.

"Carl has been telling me about you." John Clayton extended his hand across
the table.

That was more than I could say. I reached forward to accept it. "I don't
know anything about you."

"We're acquaintances, as he said. Carl and I met some years ago, when I was
passing through Hollywood. The studio was holding auditions for an actor to
play Tarzan, and they thought I was trying out for the part."

"He didn't get it, kid." My lover's eyes were bright with suppressed
laughter.

I didn't see the joke. Lots of people tried out for parts. I'd been out to
the moving picture studio in Astoria myself when they were hiring extras
and bit players, but the only part I'd been offered required me to be on my
hands and knees. At that time, I hadn't been hungry enough to accept it.

"I imagine you had to be there." John Clayton appeared highly amused.

"Yeah, those were the days, weren't they? Anyway, when I ran into John
earlier, it occurred to me he'd be the most logical person to help us out
with our little problem, so I told him about our recent adventure."

Clayton smiled, revealing amazingly white teeth. "I understand you have an
interesting pet."

The waiter came with our drinks and placed them on the table.

"That will be all for now."

He brushed his hand over Mr. Denham's shoulder. "Lint." He smiled into my
lover's eyes, touched his tongue to his lip, and walked away.

"Excuse me." I rose and followed him. "George," I called softly.

"Oh, yes?"

I crowded him back against the corner of the bar. "Do that again and I'll
cut your heart out." My shiv, which Charley had once again seen had an
edge, was concealed by the angle of my body. I pushed
lightly. "Understand?"

He stared down at it, and swallowed. "Yes. Sorry. I thought you were with
the Englishman."

"Now you know." I went back to the table. "Sorry. Just wanted to give him a
tip." Mr. Denham's eyes bored into mine, but I kept my expression
innocent. I picked up my beer. "Did I miss anything?"

"I was just remarking about your pet."

"Little Kong isn't a pet!"

"I am glad you do not consider him a pet, but I was referring to the
sabre-tooth."

"Bisa ma Kong?"

"Unusual name. You will need some help training her. She's a wild
animal. You cannot ever forget that." He reached for his glass. "I've a
golden lion at home who I trained from a cub. I'll be happy to give you
some pointers."

He had a *lion*? Who was this man? "Uh... sure."

"And I would like to meet this Little Kong."

"Why?"

"John." We both turned to face my lover. He smiled and shook his
head. "Johnny." His fingers circled my wrist, and his thumb rubbed idle
patterns on the thin skin above my pulse. "Clayton thinks Little Kong may
belong to a species of ape that lives in an area that's so remote no white
man has ever been there."

I was about to ask how Clayton could know this if no white man had ever
been there, when he murmured, "But it is his size that concerns me. Denham
has said that he's about twelve feet in height. That species of primates,
while considerably larger than most great apes, generally does not grow to
be that large. I will need to speak with him to be sure of it."

"*Speak with him*?"

"Yes. According to Denham, Little Kong seems to have understood when you
spoke to him, he's familiar with fire, and he appears to have a sense of
humor."

"But how could you... *Speak with him*?"

"I was raised in West Africa, Mr. Smith, and I've had some experience with
the great apes."

"Yeah." Again, my lover's eyes were bright with laughter. "Say listen, I
gotta go see a man about a monkey. I'll be right back. Waiter! Where's the
men's room?"

I stared at my lover's back, then turned to face the man opposite me, to
find him leaning forward, observing me. I refused to shift under his
scrutiny and forced myself to hold still.

Finally he said, "I've known Carl Denham for some years. Odd that I never
knew he... Well, I imagine that's neither here nor there. We all have our
own little idiosyncrasies." He sat back in his chair and crossed his
legs. "You seem fond of Carl Denham."

"Fond?" I gave a short laugh. That was a tepid word for my feelings for my
lover. "You could say that."

He raised that eyebrow again. "I'm fond of him myself."

"Yeah, well, Denham's mine now! You could have had him years ago, and you
let the opportunity pass you by. And no matter what, I'm not giving him
up. Not to you, not to that waiter, not to anyone. Not without a fight! You
got that?"

Clayton laughed quietly. "He's a friend, John Smith, simply a friend." He
brought his glass to his lips, paused for a second to stare over my
shoulder, then sipped his drink. After he placed his glass back on the
table, he looked down at his left hand, toyed with the ring on his
finger. "I have been very happily married for a good number of years to a
countrywoman of yours."

"That's supposed to reassure me? A lot of men are happily married. That
doesn't mean they don't go tomcatting around." And he was so damned
good-looking!

Clayton raised his eyes and again looked past my shoulder. "I assure you,
John Smith, that if I were so inclined to tomcat, as you put it, Carl
Denham would not be the one I took to my bed."

Now I was insulted on my lover's behalf. "Why not? What's wrong with him?"

"He's a man. He's a good man, mind you, but... er... he's a man!"

I blinked, then frowned. "Are you saying..." A hand dropped on my shoulder,
and I jumped. I looked up to see my lover standing there. I groaned and
covered my face. "Carl, I'm... How long were you listening?"

His fingers lifted my chin until I had to meet his eyes. The expression was
similar to the way the Skipper looked at Charley, and suddenly I couldn't
catch my breath. "Long enough, kid. I gave John the high sign not to give
me away. So I'm yours, am I?"

"Carl..."

"And you're not giving me up without a fight?"

"Mr. Denham..." I thought he was going to pull me up out of the chair and
kiss me to within an inch of my life.

"Good thing, kid, because I have no intention of giving you up, either."

I tipped my chin higher, and my eyes slid shut.

"Denham." Clayton's voice was filled with amusement. "Please don't kiss him
here. You will get us thrown out for sure!"

****

I hadn't gotten kissed at the Ritz, but my lover kissed me when we returned
to the Venture.

Charley was on his way down from the bridge. His mouth looked a little
puffy. "Ah. Johnny." His eyes went to Clayton, and he suddenly seemed to
change. "You left you box in galley. I put back in you cabin."

For a second I was confused, and then I realized that being unfamiliar with
the man, Charley wasn't about to reveal his true nature in front of him.

"Thanks, Charley. Would you excuse us for just a minute,
Mr.... Lord... uh... we'll be right back."

Before he could give in to the laughter I knew was there, I dragged my
lover down to our cabin.

"Ah, Johnny, you're a wonder!"

I felt myself blushing. "Er..." The box was on the berth, and I went to it
and opened it. "I saw this, and I..." I thrust the brown and tan safari hat
that I'd bought for him into his hands.

He ran his fingers over the brim and the crown. "Gee, kid, this is... " He
shaped it first one way, then another until he was satisfied with
it. "Thanks, Johnny." He put it on his head, closed his hands on my upper
arms, and pulled me into a breathtaking kiss.

I studied his mouth when it was over. His lips were swollen as Charley's
has been and glistened with moisture. I knew mine must look the same, and I
nodded in satisfaction. "Let's go back topside, before Clayton has
kittens."

Clayton regarded us both for a moment, and then the corner of his mouth
curled. "Take me to see Little Kong, Denham. You'll have plenty of time for
petting later."

My lover smirked. "This way, Tarzan."

I opened the hatch, and we climbed the ladder down into the forward cargo
hold. Little Kong was hanging by his knees, swaying gently back and forth,
and he observed our approach upside down. His lips spread in a broad grin,
and he swung down and held out an arm to me. I went to him and reached up
to scratch the spot under his chin, while he hugged me to him.

"Lord Greystoke, meet Little Kong."

Using a mixture of verbal sounds and hand signs, Clayton began to speak
with the young animal. Little Kong's face lit up, and he responded.

"His name is Ta-chi-nko. And he says if it is known where his mother's
people come from, he would like to return home to them. It seems he's been
alone for a very long time."

"I guess that settles it, then." It was dumb, but I'd been hoping we'd be
able to keep Little Kong with us.

My lover put his arm around my shoulder. "It'll be oke, kid. You've got
me."

And I leaned into him.

****

Hildy came down to fetch us. "Charley says dinner is ready." Mary was
cradled in her arms. "There's enough for Lord Greystoke, if you'd like to
stay, sir?"

He stayed, discussing the best passage to Africa, the need for a
trustworthy crew, and the best time to get underway.

The Skipper gazed into space, then said, "East across the Pacific to the
Panama Canal, then across the Atlantic to Africa."

"I make speaks with someone at Chinee consulate, and... "

Lord Greystoke bit back a laugh. "I imagine if you can trust me with the
secret of Little Kong, you can trust me with your secret, Charley."

The Skipper and Charley exchanged startled glances, then began to laugh as
well. After considering the Englishman's words, Charley bowed and said, "I
have spoken with someone at the Chinese consulate, and my... contact will
see that enough men to man the Venture will be here within the next two
days. They are trustworthy." His expression clearly stated that if they
weren't, he would deal with them.

"Then we can leave as soon as you have your crew, Captain Englehorn."

The Skipper tapped his pipe on an ashtray Charley had placed within reach
after he'd cleared off the table. "I'm waiting for a telegram."

"Then as soon as it arrives."

Charley brought slices of a pineapple pie he'd baked that afternoon. "A boy
came to the dock selling the fruit," he told us. "I thought it would be
interesting." He poured the cups of coffee.

Clayton and my lover scraped their plates clean and asked for more, and
exchanged news of what they had been doing since the last time they'd met.

The Skipper puffed on his pipe and listened. Charley had that inscrutable
smile on his face. Jimmy sat with his fork suspended in mid-air, and Hildy
leaned comfortably against his side. I traced the lines that were in the
grain of the tabletop.

Clayton didn't seem too surprised to hear about the debacle with King
Kong. He shook his head sadly. "There are some things that should be left
alone by man."

"You're right, Clayton. But then I wouldn't have found Johnny. I guess it
evened out in the end."

We were all silent, and then Clayton started a tale about a friend, a
French lieutenant named D'Arnot. In the middle of it, Mary fell to the
floor with a thud, and I realized Hildy had fallen asleep.

"Excuse me," I interrupted Clayton's story. "Hildy's out like a light. I'm
going to put her to bed, and then I think I'll turn in too."

Jimmy put her in my arms, then picked up the doll and handed her to me. His
fingers lingered on Hildy's hair. "'Night, honey."

I headed for the door. "'Night, all."

"Good night, John Smith," Clayton said softly.

"I'll be right along, Johnny," Mr. Denham called after me.

He was.

****

Somehow I managed to get Hildy into a brand new nightdress and into
bed. She murmured drowsily, sighed, and tightened her grip on her doll. I
tucked the covers around her, then lowered the wick of a small lantern that
hung from a hook in the overhead. It cast a subdued glow over the cabin. I
gave it a quick glance and closed the door behind me.

The events of the past days, as well as the emotional roller coaster I'd
been on, had left me so tired that I could barely keep my eyes open.

After making my way to the head and taking care of what needed to be taken
care of, I brought a basin of gently steaming water back to our cabin. At
some point during the night, Mr. Denham would make love to me, and the
water would come in handy to clean off the residue of our passion.

I toed off my shoes as soon as I entered our cabin and padded across the
deck to place the basin on a shelf that had been bolted into the wall. A
lip of wood was secured around the edge to keep whatever might be placed on
it from falling to the deck whenever the sea grew restless.

I sat down on the edge of the berth to remove my socks. A sock dangled from
one hand, while the other remained on my foot.

"I thought you'd be in bed by now."

I met my lover's eyes, and suddenly I was no longer quite so tired.

The brown and tan safari hat I'd bought him was on his head. He'd been
wearing it since I gave it to him. He stroked its brim, and I shivered. He
often stroked me in the same manner.

Carl removed the hat and tossed it aside, pulled his shirt out of his
trousers and unbuttoned it, and it joined his hat. He undid his
trousers. They dropped to the deck, and he stepped out of them. My mouth
went dry. He wore no underwear. When had he found the time to remove it?

I needed to divert my attention from the sight of his prick standing proud
and hard, or I'd embarrass myself by coming without even being touched.

"I made a real fool of myself at the bar."

"No, you didn't."

"I acted like a jealous, possessive..."

"Yes, you did. Do you know how that made me feel?"

"Sorry you'd ever met me?"

"Johnny." He pulled me to my feet and quickly stripped my clothes off. "I
saw you go after that waiter. I heard you challenge John Clayton. You know
something, kid?  No one's ever done that. No one's ever said, 'This man is
mine, and I'm not giving him up without a fight.'"

I colored. "I didn't say that, Mr. Denham."

"Oh, maybe not those exact words, but that's close enough." He took my hand
and brought it to his groin. His prick was smooth and hot and hard, and the
tip was slick with the fluid that beaded there. "I've been like this since
you stared down John Clayton and claimed me. I want you to..." He licked
his lips, and we were so close that his tongue swept over my lips as
well. "All our time together, Johnny, I've taken you. I want you to take me
tonight. Make me yours in every sense of the word."

"Mr. Denham, I've never done that!" Oh, but I wanted to. I could feel my
body heat. "I could hurt you." My other hand was stroking his flank, and it
curved around to palm a taut cheek, then trace the crevice that separated
his buttocks.

"Trust me." His fingertips were loving on my cheek. "I don't have much
tolerance for pain, kid. You can bet your ass if it hurts, I'm not gonna
keep it a secret." He gathered the drops of liquid from the tip of his
prick and coated my shaft with them.

I shivered and thrust into his hand. I'd give him whatever he asked me for.

"Not yet, Johnny. Oh, god, not yet. I want you inside me when you come."

I knew from experience that the missionary position for first time
penetration was painful. As much as I wanted to see my lover's face when I
entered his body, I wasn't about to hurt him. I nuzzled his face, nipped
his ear, and whispered, "On your hands and knees on the berth. I promise
I'll take care of you."

"I know you will." While he positioned himself on our bed, I made sure the
latch on the door was twisted shut, and the curtains were drawn across the
porthole. His laugh was strained. "A little spooked, kid?"

"I guess." I climbed up behind him, and he stiffened.

"Johnny."

"Yes."

And he relaxed.

"We'll take as much time as we need."

I started at his tailbone and worked my way up, petting him, scattering
kisses over his spine and across from one shoulder to the other. I
undulated my hips. My prick slid between his cheeks and teased his
opening. He shook beneath me.

I retraced the path I had taken, nipping, licking, sucking, working a patch
of skin between my lips until I left a mark.

I stroked my fingertips along the spot where hip and thigh joined. He was
actually ticklish there, and he gasped and jerked forward, and his prick
slapped against his belly.

"Sorry," I whispered and nibbled his hip in apology.

I circled his prick with thumb and forefinger and ran them up to the head,
than down over the shaft, squeezing at erratic intervals, but not giving
him the friction that he wanted, that he was getting desperate for.

"Johnny!"

"Not yet, Carl. I want you so hot that all you'll be able to think about is
that itch inside you, and the way my prick is going to feel, easing that
itch." I carded the wiry curls that covered his groin, then scraped my
nails over his torso to his nipples. They were already erect little buds
that begged for attention. I rubbed them and tugged on them, and my lover
groaned and bucked his hips backward.

"Do that again, Johnny!"

I did, but not for long. I gave his shoulder blade a final lick, tasting
the sweat that sheened it. I drew back until I was sitting on my heels and
pushed him forward, parting his cheeks. His hole was exposed to my gaze,
glistening from the pre come he'd used to cover my prick with as well as my
own. A bead of sweat trickled down from my temple. I bit back a groan and
leaned in to lick him. I could taste both of us.

I paused only long enough to open the jar of Vaseline and scoop a good
amount on my fingers. I circled his hole, then eased a single finger into
him, pausing whenever he tightened up. I reached around to take his prick
in my hand again, distracting him with feather touches of fingers and palm
so that he didn't realize when I slid a second finger in, and then a third.

He was rocking steadily, taking them with an ease that surprised me. I'd
never been able to do that, not until I'd met him. Somewhere in my fogged
brain I realized he trusted me, and then I wasn't surprised.

I curled my fingers and found his sweet spot, and he yelped. "That's
it. Let me hear you." A flush spread over his back. I eased my fingers out
of him, smeared Vaseline over my aching prick, and lined it up with his
hole. "Breathe, Carl." I began a slow, steady push, and after a slight,
initial resistance, the tight ring of muscle yielded and accepted me.

"Jesus, kid!" Sweat covered his back. I forced myself to hold still, but it
was almost impossible. His channel felt like a hot, tight, silken glove,
and each time my prick would quiver, there was a corresponding caress from
his inner muscles that drove me closer to climax. "Move, Johnny! Move!"

I struggled to keep my strokes shallow, and as a result his sweet spot was
constantly prodded. He went wild under me, but still I kept the thrusts
superficial. He whined and bowed his back and bit at the pillow in
frustration, then clamped down, and I lost control. I pounded into him, but
it only took a handful of strokes before I gave a muffled shout and erupted
as powerfully as the volcanoes on Skull Island.

I sank down onto his back, my breathing raspy as I tried to catch my
breath.

My lover hadn't come though, and I pulled out of him as gently as I could.

"Johnny, no..."

"I'm not done with you yet, Mr. Denham."

He was still on his hands and knees, and I slid under him and took his
prick in my mouth.  With one hand I teased the sensitive area behind his
balls, rolled the warm sac in my palm, and massaged the seed that dribbled
from his hole into his skin, while with the other I traced the crevice of
his ass, and all the while I licked and sucked his prick hungrily.

"Johnny!" His prick seemed to swell, and he thrust one last time, and
groaned and stiffened and poured his seed down my throat. I swallowed, the
muscles rippling and caressing his shaft. He shivered and moaned and
finally sprawled onto me, and I was pleased to see he was having just as
hard a time regaining his breath as I'd had.

I knew if I didn't move I'd fall asleep, so I squirmed out from under him
and got to my feet, staggering a bit.

I dipped a cloth into the warm water and wrung it out. "You're going to
have marks on your ass tomorrow, Mr. Denham. I'm sorry." I parted his
cheeks and carefully dabbed at his hole, relieved to see that while it was
a little reddened, there was no blood.

"How many times have I marked you, kid?" He spread his legs wider, and I
couldn't resist touching him, running my fingertips over his balls.

"I never kept count."

"Then I won't either." He gave a sated hum as I leaned down and blew a warm
breath over his well-used hole. The hum deepened to a groan when I dragged
my tongue over the pucker. "You're gonna kill me, kid! Come on, get cleaned
up and come to bed."

I laughed in weary satisfaction and obeyed him, and climbed onto the
berth. This time I spooned behind him and pulled the blanket over us.

"Thanks, kid."

"My pleasure, Mr. Denham. My very great pleasure." And soon we were both
sound asleep.

****

In spite of the fact that we no longer needed an island home for Little
Kong, we went ahead and bought one. Instead of the Fiji Islands, though, we
settled on one at the extreme end of the Solomons, between the Solomon and
Coral Seas.

The only place it could be found was on a very old chart that had actually
been drawn by the Spanish explorer, Alvaro de Mendana, who had been
searching for the Islas de Salomon and their fabled treasure. Seemed men
were always looking for that pot of gold.

I asked the Skipper once how he had come to be in possession of that
chart. He'd smiled and tapped his ear, and said, "Sorry, John, I couldn't
hear your question; that's my bad ear." I didn't ask again.

Mr. Denham and I went to the British consulate to see about transfer of
ownership, and the officer we dealt with chuckled. "Waste of money, dear
chap." I was startled when he flirted his lashes at me. My lover frowned,
and I bumped his shoulder, and the Englishman sighed. "There's nothing for
miles in that area. However, if you want to buy two thousand and some odd
square kilometres of open water, that's your choice."

A couple of days later, nine Chinamen crossed the gangplank onto the
Venture. They bowed very low to Charley and spoke in respectful
tones. Charley shooed them below deck to get settled in.

All we were waiting for now was word from David West, Captain Englehorn's
old friend from New York.

"I have the telegram, Skipper."

"Excellent, John. Thank you." He took the paper from me and unfolded
it. "Ah."

"What does he say?" This meant so much to Hildy.

His blue eyes smiled into mine. "He and Emma will be pleased to have Hildy
stay with them while she attends school. After we've brought Ta-chi-nko
home, we'll sail to New York."

"Will it be safe for Mr. Denham and you?"

"You mean the lawsuits? David says he can arrange to meet us in
international waters, out past the three mile limit." He put his pipe in
his mouth and puffed on it. "However, if worst came to worst, we could
always put Carl in a dress again."

I grinned, remembering how my lover and I had been forced to resort to
women's clothing in order to get into his boarding house unmolested by
process servers.

I took the ruby out of my pocket and examined it carefully, then looked at
the Skipper.

"John!"

"It wasn't their fault, those people who died. They were just in the wrong
place at the wrong time. Their families should have something. And you and
Mr. Denham should be able to go back to the States if you want."

"But, John... Are you sure?"

I shrugged. "I have Mr. Denham, Skipper. That's all I need."

He removed the pipe from his mouth and tugged at his lower lip. "Charley
might know someone who would be interested."

"Thanks, Skipper."

"Thank *you*, John. Although I must say, I would have liked to see Denham
in a dress."

****

We followed John Clayton's luxurious sailing yacht, Jad-id-bu, across the
Pacific, through the Panama Canal, and from there across the Atlantic to a
bay on the western coast of Africa where the Venture could drop anchor.

Clayton had radioed ahead, and bearers and beaters were waiting for us, men
who worked for him and who would keep their mouths shut. Apparently they
were used to seeing unusual animals around their employer, and would be
unfazed by the sight of Little Kong.

The Skipper and Charley elected to remain behind on the Venture. They had
picked up some cargo and would deliver it while we were on safari.

Hildy wanted to come with us. We found some boys' trousers that would fit
her and protect her tender skin.

Jimmy looked torn.

"I'm sorry, Jimmy, I need you manning the wireless."

"Aye, aye, Skipper."

"I'll bring you something back!" Hildy promised as she tucked Mary in the
carrier that Jimmy had rigged for her.

"Thanks, honey." He blushed as she planted a kiss on his cheek, but he
kissed her cheek, too. "Please be careful."

We shouldered our packs and set off.

Africa turned out to be a dryer version of Skull Island, complete with the
nerve-wracking drone of insects. The only thing it lacked were the
prehistoric creatures.

We made the trek deep into the interior, through jungle, savannah, and
desert, finally reaching a small range of mountains. Clayton found the
passage that carved its way through the mountains and opened out into a
broad bowl at the center of them.

We stared in disbelief. For as far as the eye could see the dusty ground
was littered with ivory tusks.

"Holy smokes! The elephants' graveyard! If only I had my camera!"

I laughed softly and leaned against my lover.

"Seriously, Johnny! We could have made a fortune with footage of this!"

"We have a fortune, Mr. Denham."

"We would have had more of a fortune if you hadn't sold that ruby." But I
knew my lover had been moved by my action.

"I guess you'll just have to find me another one."

He looked intrigued. "You know, kid, there's that legend about King
Solomon's mines..."

"I'll go adventuring with you any time you say, Mr. Denham."

John Clayton joined us just then, the veneer of civilization stripped from
him. He was dressed in a loin cloth. A bow and a quiver of arrows were
slung across his back, and a wicked knife was in a sheath at his hip.

He pointed to what appeared to be a cave at the base of a strangely-shaped
mountain. "That's really a passage that leads from this valley to
Ta-chi-nko's land. I'll take him on from here. The People of the Far
Mountains are wary of strangers."

The four of us crossed to the far end of the bowl, leaving Clayton's men to
keep watch over Hildy, who had already said her good-byes, and to make
camp.

Little Kong understood he was going home. Every line in his body seemed to
strain toward the cave. I stroked his fur. "Good-bye, Ta-chi-nko. Don't
forget us."

He made a soft, rumbling sound, and John Clayton translated. "He says that
would not be possible. You are his family, even more than his people are,
for you saved his life."

I blinked rapidly, and my lover gave my arm a reassuring squeeze.

Clayton lit a torch and stared into the depths of the cave. "Make sure
everything is packed and ready to go. I should be back before dawn, and
we'll leave at first light." He grinned at us. "Listening to you two at
night... Well, I have been away from home for too long."

We stood there, our hands raised in farewell, and watched until the two
figures were swallowed by the darkness of the cave, then returned to where
the others were setting up the tents.

"I hope he'll be oke, Mr. Denham. I hope his people accept him."

"That's the best we can do, kid. Hope."

"Will we ever see him again?"

"Who knows? There's no telling what the future holds."

Hildy wandered up to us. "Look what I found, Johnny." It was a pure white
tusk, about the length of her arm, with a blunt tip. "Can I take it as a
souvenir for Jimmy?"

"Sure, honey. That shouldn't be a problem." I took a can of peaches from my
backpack, opened it with my shiv, and offered them to my companions.

Lord Greystoke returned the next morning to assure us that Little Kong was
safely reunited with his people. There was even a young she-ape who had
seemed intrigued by him, and who in turn had attracted his attention.

We began the journey back to the bay where the Skipper and Charley and
Jimmy would be awaiting us on the Venture.

****

My lover and I lounged against the rail at the bow of the Venture, watching
as she followed the moon's silvered path on the ocean. Behind us was
Africa. Ahead was New York. And beyond that...

"So, kid, any plans for what we'll do once we get back from New York?" He
slid a hand over my hip and pulled me in front of him.

"Whatever we do, it'll be together."

"Yeah." His body was solid and warm along my back, and he rested his cheek
against my hair. "Telling you to stick with me was one of the smartest
ideas I've ever come up with."

"This is... nice, isn't it?"

"It's more than nice, Johnny. It's how I want to spend the rest of my
life."

I sighed contentedly. "You never did finish that bedtime story you were
telling Hildy."

His arms folded across my waist, holding me against him, and he whispered,
"Once upon a time, there was a little prince..."

It seemed happily ever after could happen, even to a mug like me.


~End~