A Still, Small Voice

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Author: Marchwell D W

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Copyright

Published by Dreamspinner Press 382 NE 191st Street #88329 Miami, FL 33179-3899, USA http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author‟s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. A Still, Small Voice Copyright © 2011 by D.W. Marchwell Cover Art by Anne Cain [email protected] Cover Design by Mara McKennen All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 382 NE 191st Street #88329, Miami, FL 33179-3899, USA http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ ISBN: 978-1-61372-150-6 Printed in the United States of America First Edition September 2011 eBook edition available eBook ISBN: 978-1-61372-151-3

For Stéphan

“A friend is one who walks in when others walk out.” —Walter Winchell

A Still, Small Voice

Prologue

Conscience is that still, small voice that is sometimes too loud for comfort. —Bert Murray December 2005

NOAH heard the knock at the door, followed quickly by Aiden‟s voice yelling at him to put the bottle of pills down and step away from the collected works of Sylvia Plath. As he opened the door to find his best friend standing there with a paper bag—probably filled with equal parts tequila and Ben and Jerry‟s—he actually found himself laughing. After the ordeal that had been his last day as a high school teacher for the Edmonton Public School Board, Noah needed that more than he needed anything else that Aiden could have provided. As if this were just another Friday evening, Aiden swept into the room, the heady aroma of Chanel filling Noah‟s nostrils with reassurance and comfort. “Why didn‟t you call me from the station? I would have come to fetch.” Aiden busied himself in the kitchen, emptying the paper bag, putting things away where they needed to be and gathering other things for what Noah hoped would be an all-night visit. He didn‟t want to be alone tonight. He wasn‟t yet convinced that he would not take a handful pills; of course, the only pills he had in the loft were aspirin, and he

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D.W. Marchwell wasn‟t sure he had enough to do anything other than clear his arteries of plaque buildup. “Noh-ums? Are you thinking about the friends you left behind in Cell Block Tango?” “Fuck off,” Noah said, but he couldn‟t help but smile. “Now you know that I‟ve never been one to say I told you so, but sweetums, you should have known all along that it would end badly.” Noah‟s smile melted faster than the ice cream that Aiden had yet to put away. He watched as his best friend pulled out the drawer, picked up two spoons, popped the lids off both containers of Ben and Jerry‟s, and passed Noah the Chocolate Fudge Brownie, keeping the Milk & Cookies for himself. “You say that to me all the time,” Noah barked, not believing that Aiden actually said that. He hesitated before taking the container of ice cream. “What if I wanted the Milk & Cookies?” Noah was teasing; they did this routine every time. “I‟m a selfish bitch, dear heart. You know I don‟t think about those things.” Aiden dismissed the issue with a wave of his bangled wrist. “Besides, you‟re lactose intolerant.” “Since when does Chocolate Fudge not have milk in it?” “Since they only had one container of Milk & Cookies and I didn‟t feel like schlepping all the way to 123rd Ave. to get another.” Aiden sat in his usual arm chair and jabbed the spoon into the softening dessert. “Now, if you don‟t say thank you tout de suite, I‟m going to think you‟re rude and ungrateful.” Noah walked to the sofa and paused in front of the coffee table long enough to put his container down, jab the spoon in the ice cream, and make his way to sit on the armchair. Aiden patted his thigh while Noah leaned over and kissed the heavily powdered forehead. “Thank you tout de suite.” “You‟re welcome,” Aiden said, offering the thigh a squeeze. “Honestly, you‟d think you were the one who‟d just had an absolutely abysmal day.”

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Noah plopped himself down on the sofa and leaned forward to grab his container. “Where‟s the tequila? Didn‟t you bring tequila?” “We‟ll have the tequila once we‟ve satisfied our sweet tooth. We‟ll drink until we experience reverse peristalsis and then we‟ll sleep, and we shan‟t need to worry about the calories.” Aiden tapped his manicured finger against his temple. “Like a steel trap.” Noah smiled and shook his head. He didn‟t know how he ever would have gotten through this without Aiden. They‟d been best friends ever since they‟d met in university. They had been in different faculties but had somehow ended up in the same biology course. Noah had been a little hesitant at first, since Aiden had been even more flamboyant back then, but when Aiden announced that he was a fine arts major who was in the introductory biology course to satisfy his science requirement and to meet his future husband the doctor, Noah had found himself laughing more than he could remember. Of course, the fact that Aiden had admitted—within ten seconds and to a complete stranger—that he was gay had had Noah transfixed. He, himself, had been struggling with admitting it not only to himself but also to his parents and friends. He had been pretty sure that his parents wouldn‟t care, but he was still in that particular staging area of the closet where the doors were far too close and the thought of opening threatened untold drama and misery. Aiden‟s generosity from that first meeting on had always surprised Noah. Aiden was kind and considerate, thoughtful and fearless when it came to helping his friends. And Noah had quickly realized, as well, that Aiden didn‟t believe in self-pity or regret. It was one of the things that Noah loved most about his best friend. There was nothing that couldn‟t be overcome in Aiden‟s world. One snappy retort, usually with a smattering of words from another language, and Aiden would forget the offense and move quickly forward. Noah had hoped that he might eventually absorb some of this free-spiritedness, but he never had. Noah had always wanted to be a teacher, so his spirit would need to fly within the confines set out by the conventions of his employer‟s expectations.

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There was nothing surprising about that; the newspapers were filled every day with stories about teachers sleeping with their students, teachers found guilty of some sort of moral or ethical offense, and even teachers who‟d lost their tenuous grip on reality and quickly found themselves pariahs in the profession they‟d once loved. And now Noah would be one of them, through no fault of his own. Or was he to blame? Did loving someone who would never be able to love him back count as his mistake or the other man‟s? He didn‟t bother asking Aiden, since he already knew that the answer would be that Noah had chosen to ignore his sage advice. Although Noah wasn‟t sure Aiden‟s pearls of wisdom could be called sage—or advice, for that matter. The guidance Aiden specialized in was more a rambling commentary on how all straight men were to be avoided and all gay men who wore plaid should be exiled. They ate mostly in silence, Aiden asking his friend the odd question here and there. Are the men in prison as hot as on Prison Break? Noah patiently explained, for the third time, that he had not, in fact, been in prison, but jail. Aiden dismissed the distinction as nitpicking and asked the question again. Noah shrugged his shoulders, answering honestly that he would have no way to know, since he‟d been alone in his jail cell. Alone and scared, for the first hour, alone and angry for the second hour, and then just alone and heartbroken for the remaining four. As they sat there and finished their ice cream, Noah told Aiden all about the experience of being arrested, jailed, finger-printed, and in general treated like he was actually a pedophile. He was proud of himself for crying only twice, once at the memory of the short, fat detective who‟d escorted him from the school and then again when he‟d been stripped and searched for the identifying marks that his unnamed accuser had listed as proof of Mr. Noah Lowe‟s indiscretions. Of course, Noah knew full well he‟d done no such thing as seduce and sleep with any student, let alone a female student. But that didn‟t really matter in this day and age. What was more important was the police, parents, and school board being ready with the accusation, rather than considering that the student might very well be lying to 4

A Still, Small Voice tarnish the reputation of a teacher who‟d had the nerve not to back down from her threats. No one needed to tell him who had made the accusation. It had been Skyler Courtwood. And she‟d done her homework. In fact, if she‟d ever done her math homework as well as she‟d done her homework on the most efficient plan to rid herself of Mr. Lowe as her math teacher, she would never have had to repeat the course. Noah recounted the story that had seen him handcuffed and led from the school, and since his classroom was at the far west end of the complex, he‟d had to walk by far too many fellow staff and far too many students, some of whom actually liked him. He was surprised at how easy it was for him to recite the facts, as if he were merely lecturing his students on trigonometry or algebra. Skyler had been very upset when he‟d confiscated her cell phone, again. It was the third time that week, and according to the rules of the school, he‟d deposited the phone in the central office and placed a phone call to her father. Although Skyler had been able to fool her father in the past, Mr. Courtwood had soon come to realize that his daughter was capable of tremendous deception and had very quickly told his daughter that it would be up to her from now on to prove— beyond any doubt—that her teachers were the liars. “Such is the punishment for you since you‟ve been caught in far too many lies,” Mr. Courtwood had explained to his daughter in front of all of her teachers, all of whom she despised except for Mr. Paul Lang. And that fact had been the center of Skyler‟s plan to eliminate as many of her teachers as possible. Mr. Paul Lang was a relatively inexperienced teacher whose sole aim was to please the administration and become the type of teacher he considered to be an “advocate” for the students. That he chose to believe the students who‟d clearly been identified as liars had merely been an unfortunate and trivial point for the majority of the teachers, including Noah, until the afternoon Skyler had convinced one of the grade twelve boys—whom she‟d been leading on for weeks—that she was ready to have sex. During the dance scheduled for the afternoon of 5

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the last day of classes before Christmas break, Skyler had stolen Mr. Lang‟s set of keys and had found a secluded place for her and the unfortunate—and evidently horny—boy to consummate their relationship, albeit one based on deception. She‟d then relied on Mr. Lang‟s gullibility and reported that Noah had assaulted and raped her in the girl‟s locker room of the gymnasium. Mr. Lang, wanting nothing more than to prove his worth, had immediately taken her to the office and the principal had taken it upon himself to call the police. Within the hour, Noah had found himself being taken away in handcuffs. He had been jailed, made his phone call to the teacher‟s association—who‟d very quickly put him in touch with a lawyer—and his clothes seized as evidence. Without waiting for his lawyer and ignoring his assertions that he had not done any such thing, the police searched his body for any scratches or bites—since Skyler had said that she‟d bitten him while he had his way with her—and a DNA sample was taken so that it could be compared to that collected from Skyler‟s sexual assault kit. Noah‟s voice hitched slightly when he recalled the humiliation of every police officer handling the case assuming that he had actually assaulted and raped one of his students. When it was determined very quickly that there were holes in Skyler‟s stories, such as the absence of any bite or scratch marks on Noah‟s body, the detective who‟d been assigned the case had been shocked at Noah‟s ability to laugh. The detective had ignored Noah‟s protestations that Skyler had done this to ruin his reputation, plain and simple. Noah was somewhat galled at the incredible naïveté of the detective when he observed that no seventeenyear-old could possibly have the knowledge, let alone the chutzpah, to do anything of the sort. After spending approximately twenty hours in the jail cell, wearing a too-big light blue jumper with the letters D.O.C. on the back, Noah had been sleeping when the same detective unlocked the cell door and threw Noah‟s clothes at him, telling him that he was being released. Noah demanded an explanation and got one: it had been 6

A Still, Small Voice determined that Skyler had, in fact, been lying. Noah‟s immediate thought was to threaten the entire police department with a lawsuit for having been completely taken in by a seventeen-year-old girl. Instead, he calmly asked for his fingerprint card and any mug shot but had been refused. Noah reminded himself out loud to ask the lawyer that the union had provided him about this particular point of order and left the station, hailing a cab to go home and reminding himself that he would return some other time—perhaps when he had the moral support of Aiden—to return to the school to pick up his car. Aiden sat, stunned into silence. “What the fuck?” Noah nodded, knowing that this would be way too much for Aiden to believe. “What kind of fucking little bitch is this kid?” “The kind that would do this, obviously.” “How could this asshole—Paul, I mean—think that you could have done it? He obviously knows you‟re gay.” “I don‟t know,” Noah sighed. “That‟s one of the many questions that I don‟t have an answer for.” “So what happens to you now?” Noah raised himself off the sofa and walked over to the answering machine, stabbing the play button, and closed his eyes as he heard—for the third time—a message from the principal and then from Paul Lang. The principal was calling to assure Noah that he had their full support and that there would be no further investigation of his actions. Somewhat predictably, Aiden spat out the same question that Noah had only ninety minutes before: “What actions?” Paul‟s message was somewhat less contrite: “Hey, Noah, buddy, I just wanted to call to make sure you understand I had no choice. I had to disclose.” Noah stabbed the button to end the recording, saving the immense pleasure of erasing it for another time, and returned to the sofa. “So what happens to the little bitch?” 7

D.W. Marchwell Noah shrugged. “Probably nothing,” he admitted, somewhat chagrined. “She‟s a minor.” “Isn‟t there some sort of punishment for misleading the police or making false accusations?” “Probably, but do you honestly think they‟ll press charges against her?” Noah lifted both hands, counting off the points as he continued. “If they press charges, they‟ll have to admit that she had the entire task force fooled and it took them far too long to figure it out. They‟ll have to answer for their actions to their superiors—something I‟m going to make sure they do anyway—and I‟m pretty sure that detective isn‟t very good at eating crow. And the most important thing of all is that they know that since she‟s a minor, spending all this time and money to punish her would be for nothing because her record would disappear in another ten or eleven months. And then there would be the whole hesaid-she-said thing.” “So she just gets away with it?” Noah shrugged again. “Fucking hell, Noh-ums!” Aiden shook his head back and forth while his eyes remained transfixed on his friend‟s face. “What are you going to do now?” “I will be talking to the lawyer about pressing charges against the police, Skyler‟s parents—” “I meant about work. Are you going to go back there?” “Fuck no.” Noah laughed, a humorless laugh that was more a snort of derision. “I‟m supposed to give thirty days of notice, but I told the principal—my exact words—to get his head out of his ass if he thinks I‟ll ever trust him again.” “Bravo, sweetie!” “The only thing that pisses me off about that is the fact that all of my stuff is still in my classroom.”

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A Still, Small Voice “Surely they won‟t stop you from going and getting it. I mean, now that they know it was all bullshit.” “My keys were confiscated, and I was instructed to stay two hundred meters away from the school and two hundred meters away from Skyler.” Noah got up and went to the kitchen to fill a tumbler with tequila, asking his friend if he wanted any tequila yet. After a nod from Aiden, Noah returned to deposit two tumblers and the tequila on the coffee table. “Of course, I was instructed to do so before it was all revealed to be bullshit from the fucked-up mind of that little sociopath, but….” Noah filled both tumblers, passed one to his best friend, and then held his up. “Here‟s to my sudden freedom.” “And to little bitches getting what they deserve.” Noah drank half of the tumbler, his face pulling in on itself as the alcohol made its way down his parched throat. He let out a gasp finally. “I also told the principal that I would never be coming back to the school to collect my things and that I would make arrangements for them to be couriered to me. Make sure they‟re ready by Monday, I told him.” Aiden laughed and held up his glass, and they both drank. “You should have heard him, Aidee, he was so smug and pompous, even told me he knew all along I wouldn‟t do something like that. When I told him I wasn‟t coming back? He actually had the nerve to tell me that he would be more than willing to supply me with a reference letter.” “Fucking scumbag!” Noah nodded, agreeing, the tequila slowing his troubled mind. “As I was being escorted out of the school, one of the police officers made a point of stopping long enough to shout his congratulations to Paul.” Noah bristled at the memory. “He‟d heard that Paul had proposed to Cherie and that she‟d accepted.” Noah refilled his glass and swallowed half of the clear liquid, not really noticing the burn this time. “Two weeks of fucking me senseless, two weeks of him telling

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D.W. Marchwell me that Cherie‟s history—and I believe him—and then he fucks me again by believing that stupid little cunt!” “Just be thankful you found out what an asshole he is.” Noah couldn‟t bring himself to admit that the reason it hurt so much was that he‟d fallen in love with Paul. Hearing that Paul would be getting married to that conniving and manipulative guidance counselor had hurt more than all of the other things that had been done to Noah that day. What was worse, Noah knew that if Paul showed up at his doorstep, he would forgive the man anything, even this.

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Chapter One

Six years later

NOAH looked at the call display and groaned. He was a mere ten minutes from home, trying to get there in only five by weaving in and out of traffic without speeding on the busy downtown streets, when he punched the answer button. “Hello, Aiden, and yes, I know I‟m late, but it couldn‟t be helped. There were some problems with the new programming, and I had to fix them before I left. I‟m just pulling up to the loft right now.” “No, you‟re not.” Noah realized that Aiden knew he wasn‟t because Aiden was at his loft. “What the hell are you doing at my place and calling me because I‟m not at the club yet?” “Because, sweetums, you have the CD with the new musical numbers on them. Remember?” “Well, you have a key. Go in, get the CD, and I‟ll meet you at the club in about fifteen.” Noah pulled his car onto his street, praying that he wouldn‟t catch the red light two blocks from his building, since that red lasted at least five minutes. “I‟m in the loft now and I can‟t find shit, darling,” Aiden said, his pleasant tone belying his true feelings. Noah could tell. Aiden had developed this annoying ability to remain charming and polite after working his way through university as a telephone agent for a 11

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marketing research company. Aiden had also learned from that particular job how to tell someone to go fuck themselves while actually telling them to have a good day. “It‟s in the player, the one in the living room.” Noah barely made the green light and nervously looked around for any cop cars. He was still wary, six years after his ordeal, of having anything to do with police. When he saw a car or an officer, he still found himself heading in the other direction, his irrational fear that they would somehow recognize him suppressing all certainty that he was being far too paranoid. “I‟ll admit I‟m not a young woman anymore, darling,” Aiden said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “But I‟m almost certain that Vivaldi is not part of the new act.” “Well, did you try looking beside the CD player?” There was silence on the other end of the phone. “Crisis over,” Aiden announced. “I‟m heading to the club now, sweetums, so you just be sure to get there post haste, n‟est-ce pas?” “I‟m right outside the building. Grab my bags by the front door and come and get in the car.” Noah didn‟t wait for a response and flipped his phone shut. After several minutes, he saw the door open and then Aiden, mired down under a garment bag and a makeup case, head toward the car. He tossed the bags in the backseat and lowered himself into the passenger seat of the BMW X-6. He‟d barely closed the passenger-side door when Noah checked his side mirror and pulled back out into traffic. “Did you lock the door?” “No, darling,” Aiden said as he pulled the sunglasses from the top of his head and covered his eyes with them. “I left it open with a huge glittery sign I made while I should have been looking for the CD that reads, „Always wanted outdated urban quasi-chic? Now‟s your chance! Everything must go!‟”

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A Still, Small Voice “Just once, I wish you could act a little more human.” Noah checked the rearview mirror and glanced over at his best friend. “A simple yes would have sufficed.” “Ah, but then I was never a simple girl, was I, sweetie?” Noah was relieved that the rest of the trip to the club was spent, mostly, in silence, the only interruptions being those when Aiden would tell Noah to turn down this street or that alley to make up for lost time. Noah, who—of course—didn‟t listen and kept to the main roads, ignored his friend and tried to get his mind ready for the show. He and Aiden had developed a new routine, and the choreographed steps had seen them take their show to an entirely different level. Not only were they singing live, just as they‟d always done, but now they would be incorporating four gorgeous male dancers whose bodies had had Aiden salivating for weeks. Noah had not really taken to the idea yet, still fearing that they were straying too far from their roots, the ones that had earned them such a dedicated following and even gotten them featured in a front-page write-up in the local gay rag. Noah pulled up at the rear entrance of the club—where the door was painted with a shocked blond looking over his shoulder, something Noah had always found to be in very bad taste—and parked his car, pushing the fob twice just to be sure it was locked. He hoisted his garment bag and makeup case over his shoulder and followed Aiden into the club. They had just slightly more than an hour to get themselves dressed, made up, and ensure that their voices were warmed up enough to sing the medley of tunes that they would be singing. Noah always sung the high parts, while Aiden was there more to provide a bit more atmosphere than for any real singing ability. It was one of the reasons that Aiden had chosen his original drag name of Demi Vox and why Noah‟s drag name had become May Estes during their original act, back before Noah‟s teaching career had ended so abruptly. They were, of course, supposed to be sisters, but they easily explained away their different last names as the result of the combined fifteen failed marriages between the two of them. There were another dozen or so campy factoids that had become part of the routine over the years.

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And their die-hard fans could not seem to get enough of the interactions, one fan even going so far as to seek permission from the duo to set up and maintain a website, complete with photos and bios. Aiden loved the idea, while Noah just went along. It was usually Aiden—or Demi—who would instigate the insults and the witty banter, and Noah was more than willing to let her garner that particular attention, especially since Demi didn‟t really do much else. Noah had found it was the least he could do; he had begun to grow weary of teaching all day and performing in the club three or four nights a week. It had taken him a long time, finally, to tell Aiden that he wanted to take a little break from performing. Of course, when Noah had found himself in need of the income again after he saw his teaching career go up in flames, Aiden had been there for him and had been more than willing to work on a new act for the club. Noah had been averse, to say the least, to taking up the old act after he‟d finally been cleared of all charges, but he‟d been determined not to lose the loft and had quite simply done whatever was needed to ensure that he could make the mortgage payment and put some food on the table. He‟d even sold his year-old SUV to ensure that he would have enough money to pursue school and be able to cover most of his expenses. He had paid the other expenses by taking out an equity loan on the loft. When he‟d been shown the loft by the real estate agent, he‟d fallen in love with it right away, his mind immediately abuzz with all sorts of ideas for decorating the space and putting his personal stamp on it. He‟d had the inheritance from his father and had used most of that as a down payment. Consequently, he‟d been able to take out an equity loan that saw him through another four years of technical college, which resulted in his graduating with a Bachelor of Information Technology. Before he‟d even graduated, a major national bank had offered Noah a great job leading one of the teams that would create the programming and infrastructure to allow banking to be done on mobile phones. And while he enjoyed leading that project, he‟d also discovered during his four years at the technical college that he had a knack for programming. In his spare time, not long before rejoining Aiden on the 14


stage, Noah had written and sold an attendance and report card program that was much more user-friendly for teachers and administrators. One of the complaints that almost all teachers had had while he‟d been teaching was that the attendance and reporting programs had far too many glitches and didn‟t seem to be capable of handling the needs for the various levels, such as the high school semester system. At first, Noah had wanted to see if such a program could be developed, and was quite surprised himself that he‟d been able to do it. He‟d approached a teacher—at another school—that he‟d worked with many times at various conferences to try it out. When the feedback was overwhelmingly positive, this teacher asked Noah to provide several other colleagues with the program. Noah was completely gobsmacked that he‟d actually designed such an efficient program. But not as shocked as when he found himself approached by a well-known software company wishing to buy the program. Six years after leaving the profession he‟d never thought he‟d leave, Noah found himself completely debt-free and with more than enough money in the bank to actually go to all the faraway places he‟d always dreamed of visiting. When he stopped to think about the way things had worked out, Noah always found himself shaking his head and—almost—wanting to thank Skyler, Paul, and that annoying little police detective for making it all possible. Of course, not one of those individuals had helped him in any significant way other than forcing him out on his own, which, of course, had made Noah absolutely determined to succeed at something else. As he did tonight, he sometimes found himself on stage, not really paying attention to what he was doing. He‟d sung these same songs hundreds of times, had gone through the same banter with Aiden hundreds of times, and had little more to do than open his mouth and sing; the rest of the time, he would offer one- or two-word lead-ins to Aiden‟s insults and sarcastic quips. But Noah actually enjoyed being up on the stage; it was as if he were home somehow, in a very comfortable place where he knew nothing bad would really happen to him; it was soothing and comforting.

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The applause had its usual happy but unfortunate effect on Noah: he was relieved that nothing had gone wrong during the show, but a kind of melancholy that it was over was settling over him. It would take him a couple of hours to wind down, and that explained why, since he‟d started working at the bank, their last show was always at nine in the evening. By midnight, he would be at home, showered, and ready for sleep. And that was exactly what he thought would happen this evening. Noah had no way of knowing, of course, that the loft just down the hall from his had finally sold. It seemed to have been perpetually on the market since Noah had moved into the building. Noah had, in fact, been the very first occupant of the building, welcoming—and saying farewell—to every subsequent tenant. He had not, however, planned on meeting the newest tenant tonight. Noah was dressed in his sweatpants and T-shirt, his usual sleeping attire, when he poured himself a glass of milk, and he was ready to gulp it down, brush his teeth, and then head to bed. That is, until a loud crash out in the hallway sent him to the peephole. He noticed a pile of boxes sitting just outside the door to Unit 3. He shrugged his shoulders and had headed back to his bedroom when there was another loud crash, followed by cursing. He pulled on a sweater, grabbed his keys, and headed to the door, ready to welcome and render aid, if necessary. “Hi,” Noah said as he stood beside the pile of boxes, watching a pair of legs walk up the stairs, torso and face obscured by yet more boxes. “Did you need some help?” “No, this is the last of it,” the disembodied voice said. “I hope I didn‟t wake you?” “Not at all,” Noah said, dismissing the little nagging voice that told him he should recognize the basso profundo. “I was just heading to bed, actually.” The large hands let the boxes fall to the floor, and then there was a smiling face. A face Noah did recognize. There was a moustache and beard, but it was the same face he had thought he would never see 16


again. As the smile faded, Noah realized that his new neighbor had recognized him as well. “Noah.” It wasn‟t a question, more a whisper shared between two people who had once shared a bed and the hopes that it might become something more. At least that was what Noah told himself. He‟d come to realize over the past six years that it was something only he had felt. He also told himself that he‟d never really loved the man who was standing in front of him, had only thought he‟d loved him because he was lonely and in need of something to hold onto after his father had died so suddenly. There would have been no way for this new neighbor to have known that Noah lived in this building, their relationship—if it could be called that—having ended many months before Noah had decided to invest in real estate at all. Still, Noah found himself standing in front of the face he‟d never been able to get enough of, never been able to see as anything but a permanent fixture in his life. His first impulse was to run back to his loft and shut the door. And then spend the rest of his life peeking out the hole to see if he could avoid him. Noah planted his feet, squared his shoulders, prepared to meet his past head-on, and smiled. “Paul, how are you?” “I‟m doing okay,” Paul said, leaving Noah to wonder where to go from there. After a few moments, Paul spoke again, and Noah thought he sounded genuine. “How have you been?” “Fine,” Noah said flatly, not really feeling like he wanted to make small talk. Nor did he feel like he owed it to Paul. “I didn‟t know you were living in this building. Or are you just visiting someone?” Noah wasn‟t sure if Paul was using the word “visiting” euphemistically or not, but decided to keep his answers vague and to the point. “I live here.” “When did you buy a loft here? I thought you lived over on Wellington.” 17

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Paul was still standing with his legs and back straight, and Noah felt like laughing at the tableau they must have presented. “I moved in here after you decided you didn‟t want to live as a gay man… two months before I was charged with sexual abuse of a minor.” Noah could tell he‟d stung Paul, but he didn‟t really care, although he wasn‟t enjoying it as much as he thought he would. Paul nodded and looked like he was trying desperately to think of some segue out of their current topic of conversation. “Cherie and I are separated.” Noah was a little surprised at the confession but offered a slight nod. “Welcome to the building. I‟ll leave you to it.” Noah looked down at the boxes, turned, and was halfway to his front door when he heard Paul‟s voice again. When Noah turned around, he noticed that Paul had not moved one inch; he hadn‟t even pulled out his keys to unlock the door to his new home. “I‟ve already tried to…,” Paul said, his voice hushed but just as seductive as it had always been to Noah. “Good night, Paul,” Noah said as he kept walking backward to his own door. He saw Paul shrug and realized if he didn‟t retreat at that moment, the chance of him doing something stupid like helping Paul or allowing himself to be used as some sort of convenient father confessor was far too great. “Are you ever going to forgive me?” “I‟m tired, Paul. I‟m going to bed. Good night.” “I had no choice, Noah.” Paul fished inside of his pants pocket for the keys to his own loft, his eyes boring holes into Noah‟s tired and dry eyes. “No choice.” “I never said anything about it, Paul. You asked me a question, and I gave you an answer.” “It was the way you said it, Noah. As if you still blame me.” 18

A Still, Small Voice “I don‟t,” Noah stated plainly. “I did blame you. But that was six years ago.” Noah reached his own door and put out his hand to search for the doorknob. “Six years has shown me that it was my fault for ever trusting or believing you.” “I never lied to you, Noah.” “So you said,” Noah said, remembering the conversation he‟d had in his old apartment, the conversation where Paul had told him that things weren‟t always as they appeared. He‟d often wondered why Paul chose those words. And maybe one day, he‟d figure it out. But right then, he was tired. Noah turned the doorknob and pushed open the door, stopping just short of crossing the threshold. He turned briefly and saw Paul still standing there, adrift in a small sea of cardboard boxes. “If you need anything, the president of the condo board is in Unit 4.” Noah pointed across the hall. “Your neighbor. Her name is Jenny, and she works as a nurse, so it‟s hit and miss if you try to get ahold of her. The rest of us just slip a note under her door. She‟s pretty good about getting back to you within a day or two.” Paul nodded but said no more. Noah was glad of it; he wanted to get back to the safety of his own loft and the comfort of his bed. He walked into his loft, shut the door, and turned the three deadbolts. Nothing had ever happened to the building, and it was next to impossible for anyone who didn‟t live in the building to gain access unless someone let them in. And that was not something any of the tenants did. Each of them, including Noah, would question any strangers that came into the building and, at the first sign of trouble, would contact the police. Noah entered his bedroom, turned off the bedside lamp, and lamented that it would not be possible to call the police for the kind of trouble that Paul‟s presence would mean for his well-ordered new life.

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Chapter Two

ONE of the advantages, Noah had found, of being a computer engineer was that he was able to work from home sometimes. Citing a bad headache and a difficult night getting to sleep, Noah had called his lieutenant—something Ryan had christened himself two years ago— and explained that he would be running the new protocols from home and then he would be staying home to catch up on his sleep in order to ward off a cold or flu. Ryan had promised to handle everything himself, leaving Noah to check in only occasionally. Once satisfied that everything at the office was under control, Noah lay down on the comfortable leather couch in the living room and closed his eyes, his mind finally settling long enough for him to fall asleep. His subconscious took over, and he was back in the staff room on the afternoon of September 4th, the sun beating through the skylight, illuminating the most breathtaking man Noah had ever seen. … “Noah?” Hope, the librarian and unofficial Welcome Wagon lady, poked him in the shoulder. “Have you met Paul Lang?” “Huh? No, no, I haven‟t.” Noah couldn‟t be sure if he‟d been caught staring, but at that moment, he wasn‟t sure he would have minded. He couldn‟t honestly remember the last time he‟d seen such warm hazel eyes highlighted by such a beautiful smile. “How do you do?” “Noah is one of our French Immersion teachers,” Hope was explaining while Noah‟s hand was engulfed in Paul‟s. 20

A Still, Small Voice “Grades eleven and twelve, mostly,” Noah added, as if it would really matter. “Shane asked me to give Paul the tour. He‟s replacing another teacher who crapped out on us.” Us? Noah got a kick out of the way Hope always included herself in all of the action, as if the administration of the school wouldn‟t possibly be able to function without her. Noah had worked at the school long enough to know that Hope was the type of person who always managed to insert herself into whatever she felt she needed to be a part of. But Noah was willing to concede the point that, perhaps, the administration would be lost without Hope, although he sincerely doubted it. Of course, he was also willing to concede the point because he was not overly fond of Hope. Not only did she manage to put herself into every conversation—whether it pertained to her or not—but she was also one of the biggest busybodies he‟d ever met. If there was some juicy piece of gossip or trash-talking to do, you could always rest assured that seeing Hope coming toward you meant she was just itching to share it. “Well, welcome,” Noah said as he headed for the door on the opposite side of the staff room, the one that led to his classroom on the far side of the school. He turned and waved one last time when Hope reminded him that it was Noah‟s turn to bring treats to the staff meeting the next day. Noah walked back to his room, his mind still on Paul and those hazel eyes. He wondered if Paul could be gay, if he was just imagining that the handshake had lasted a bit too long. He waved and said his hellos to the various students milling about in the hallways. It wasn‟t technically time for the students to be attending classes; it was the last day for them to change their schedules for the first semester, and it was always a bit of a zoo. And tomorrow would be the first day of classes, which was the first official day the zoo was open. As he rounded the final corner to his classroom, he noticed Shane, one of the vice principals, looking into his room. Not finding Noah, he turned and quickly saw his target. “Noah, thank God I found you.” 21

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Noah had mixed feelings when it came to Shane. He was a very short man and had the bravado and swagger to more than compensate for his lack of height. He liked to remind people all the time what was in his purview to do as senior administration. Noah had had to stifle a laugh during more than one occasion, resisting the urge to point out to Shane that he was not, in fact, senior anything. He was the least experienced of four vice principals in a high school of more than a thousand students. Noah was pretty sure that Shane suffered from what he‟d once heard called “little man syndrome,” and thought the description was very appropriate. His first instinct was always to raise his voice and to spout, “It is in my purview to tell you to do….” Nothing irritated Noah more than having to constantly point out to Shane that telling a member of a teacher‟s union to do this or that would one day find him with a personnel file full of complaints and letters of reprimand. But Shane was more than secure in his belief that he provided some sort of service that the school and school division could never possibly live without. As Noah watched him close the distance between them, he wished yet again that someone would explain to him what that service actually was. Noah resisted the urge to ask how he could possibly help Shane and continued to take his long strides to his classroom door. “Listen, Noah, we‟ve had to cancel one of your classes due to low enrollment and assign you a grade twelve math.” Shane stopped talking and waited for Noah to unlock his classroom door. “Okay.” Noah pulled open the door and waited. “We didn‟t have much of a choice,” Shane continued, and Noah wondered if Shane had even heard him—or did he just figure he had to continue to bluster along in case Noah was baiting him or only pretending to be indifferent? “There were only fifteen students registered in your Français 30 class, so we made the decision to cut that and split—” “Shane?” Noah wanted to reach out and shake the man or tell him to calm down. “I said okay. I don‟t agree that fifteen students is a class

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A Still, Small Voice worth canceling, but we all know that this school division doesn‟t support the immersion program, so… okay.” “It‟s not that we don‟t support immersion, Noah, and I‟d thank you to remember that we—” “Shane, I‟m not interested in discussing this for the hundredth time.” Noah smiled politely and backed into the classroom. “We‟ve already agreed to disagree on this issue at least a dozen times. And when those fifteen students come to me wanting to know how they‟ll possibly get their immersion diploma, I‟ll send them on to you.” “Why me?” Noah stifled yet another laugh at the panicked look on the smaller man‟s face. “You said we didn‟t have much of a choice.” “I didn‟t make the decision; it was made by all five members of the administration.” “Okay, I‟ll send them to the administration.” Noah waited a beat and then added, “And I‟ll do the same with the parents who won‟t understand the decision. Because I really don‟t know how I would ever explain it to them… not being one of the five members of the administration.” “But you‟re a department head,” Shane protested, his brow furrowing. “Who wasn‟t invited to participate in that particular decisionmaking process.” “That doesn‟t matter,” Shane protested, puffing out his chest. “It is well within your purview—” “To direct any and all inquiries about programming to the individuals responsible for the decisions,” Noah finished the sentence, knowing Shane would probably puff his chest out even more. “Now, I have to get ready for an unexpected schedule change, so if you‟ll excuse me.” Noah grabbed the door and looked down at Shane‟s foot, which was in the arc of the door‟s path, and slowed slightly to give Shane time to move it. The smaller man did move his foot without another word. 23

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Luckily for Noah, Shane decided to drop the issue, but Noah knew full well it would resurface, probably in one of the lengthy emails that the vice principal sent to audible groans from all over the school. As a joke, one of the other—very seasoned—teachers had once printed off several of the e-mails, totaling some forty-odd pages, and left the booklet on the coffee table in the upper staff room, labeling it “The Bible According to Shane.” Most staff members had been unaware of it until Shane himself had decided to make a federal case out of it. Instead of letting it go, he‟d brought it to a staff meeting, demanding to know who‟d done it. Warren, the head of the math department, had very quickly confessed to it and, in front of the assembled staff of almost one hundred teachers, had shown absolutely no remorse for having committed what he termed his “amusing burlesque.” Noah adored Warren. He was very old-school and still wore a bow tie to school, even on casual Fridays. He was universally loved by every member of the staff and was well known among both community members and parents alike, since he‟d taught most of them when they‟d been in high school. Warren was such a fixture in the high school that he was now teaching grandchildren of students he‟d taught thirty years ago. And, for the most part, the students adored him. Most serious math students tried their best to get into one of the likeable curmudgeon‟s classes. Noah knew that he would have students in his newly assigned math class who would have preferred Warren, but Noah would be sure to explain to them that he was using the same notes as the senior teacher and would be sure to do one or two activities that pitted his math skills against whatever the students could throw at him. It was at moments like those that Noah was glad his father had thought it vacation fun to practice mental math skills. Of course, at the time, Noah had hated having to continue doing schoolwork while on vacation, but now that he could do just about any math operation in his head, including graphing of conics and their inverses and even some calculus, Noah appreciated what his father had done for him.

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What made it fun for Noah was that there were always some students who thought Noah was somehow cheating. Over the years, he‟d been blindfolded, made to turn in circles while announcing his answers, and had even been made, two years ago, to roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt to ensure there wasn‟t some sort of miniature calculator embedded in his arm. Noah always laughed at their attempts to discredit his mental abilities and explained to them that the human brain was capable of great feats, but that it needed training and discipline. There were not many students who did eventually transfer to Warren‟s math class, but occasionally Noah would find himself faced with a withdrawal slip. He signed them without hesitation and always wished the students well in Warren‟s class, knowing that they would regret it soon enough. Warren did not provide movie days just before vacation, nor did he allow students the possibility of re-writing three unit tests of their choice. They were Noah‟s concession to the students in an ever-changing world where teachers were expected to coddle the students and to provide them with as many opportunities to succeed as possible. They were unrealistic expectations as far as Noah was concerned; once out in the real world of university or a full-time job, the students would discover soon enough that there wasn‟t too much forgiveness for screwing up or not getting it right the first time. As he was pulling out his materials for his new math class, the four overstuffed binders sitting on a shelf behind his desk, Noah heard a knock on the door and closed his eyes before turning, convinced that it was Shane coming back for round two. Probably took him fifteen minutes to think of some other retort, Noah thought as his eyes focused on the tall frame of Paul Lang. “Sorry to bother you, Noah,” Paul said, his cheeks slightly pink as he looked across the room. “Shane told me that you are the staff advisor for the student council, and I was wondering if you could use any help.” “Yes, always, thank you.” Noah stood from where he sat and walked toward Paul. “Sometimes with some of these kids, it‟s almost a full-time job in itself.” 25

D.W. Marchwell “Okay, great,” Paul said, seeming to relax a little bit. “I‟ve always been involved in student government since I started teaching, so….” “Yeah, that would be great. I‟d appreciate the help.” Noah perched on top of one of the desks near the front of the classroom. “So, are you originally from here or…?” “No, actually, I was born in BC but then moved out here to go back to school to get my teaching degree.” “Out here? To get your teaching degree?” Noah smiled mysteriously. “Wouldn‟t it have been easier to stay out there and go back to school?” Noah had never been good at guessing ages, but he would put Paul somewhere in his early to mid-thirties. “It‟s complicated,” Paul said with a shrug, and Noah decided to leave it alone. “I hear that.” Noah rose off the desk and pushed his hands in his pockets. “Well, the first meeting won‟t be until after we‟ve done the elections, so you‟ll have about a month to get used to everything before the deluge.” “You bet. Sounds good.” “Sometime next week, during the first full week of classes, I‟ll hold a meeting for any interested students who wish to be put on the ballot. There‟ll then be speeches during lunch hour over two days, and then the students will vote by ballot during their period one class so I can have the results announced by the end of the day.” “Okay,” Paul said, and he turned to exit the room. Jesus, Noah thought to himself as he watched Paul walk away, I wonder if this man knows how fucking gorgeous he is. Before Paul reached the door, Noah watched him turn back, at a loss as to which view he preferred; the man was gorgeous from every angle. “What happens if a student doesn‟t have a first period class?” “They come to me during lunch or during one of the breaks between classes and vote.” Paul nodded and then turned to head back out the door. 26


Noah found himself wondering what had brought Paul all this way from BC, and more importantly, what had made him go back to school to get his teaching degree when he must have been in his late twenties. It seemed a rather odd choice for someone who had probably already been out in the working world for more than a few years. As he headed back to his chair, Noah figured Paul must have been rather unhappy with the job, or jobs, he‟d had and was looking for something a little more fulfilling. He’ll certainly get that in this job, Noah thought to himself as he took up his planning again. Of course, if he’s one of those who thinks the two months off in the summer are great, he’ll soon discover that ten months’ worth of marking and late nights and meetings and rude and apathetic children—not to mention parents—are hardly worth six weeks of summer holidays that invariably go by far too quickly. Noah spent the next three hours planning and preparing for his new math course before finally glancing up at the clock and seeing that it was just before five in the evening. He left all of his materials where they were, grabbed his messenger bag, and decided to head home to make himself a nice, juicy steak before the first day of classes tomorrow. Maybe even a beer or two, he thought as he headed down the long hallway that led to the stairs by the central office. “Noah!” Noah closed his eyes and counted to ten in his head before turning around. He knew Shane‟s voice, would know it anywhere, like the sound of fingernails on a chalkboard or the sound of a fax machine screaming in his ear from the other end of a phone call. He turned slowly, forcing a smile. “I just wanted to let you know that I‟ve assigned you to be Paul‟s mentor.” “Me? Isn‟t he Humanities?” Noah was slightly confused; shouldn‟t his mentor be someone in his own department? Shouldn‟t it be—at the very least—someone who was at the same end of the school as Paul?

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D.W. Marchwell “Yes,” Shane said with a shrug, and he kept walking past Noah and headed up the stairs. “But he requested you.” Noah turned quickly to watch Shane disappear up the stairs. He requested me? Noah was rather stunned. They had student council in common, but still, Noah wasn‟t really sure if he would be able to help Paul with the subjects that he would be teaching. Being a mentor wasn‟t just about teaching the same subjects; rather it was more helping the new teacher to acclimate to the procedures and practices of the school. But how would Noah be able to help Paul when they were practically on opposite sides of the building? In fact, as he walked out to the staff parking lot, Noah wondered if he‟d be of any help at all to Paul. Noah wasn‟t really sure why, but the new teacher seemed like one of those individuals who didn‟t open up very easily.

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Chapter Three

NOAH awoke to a sound he did not hear often outside of his quiet loft; the argument seemed to be getting far too heated. He glanced at the clock. It was just after four in the afternoon. He could make out two voices, one male and one female. He was pretty sure that the man‟s voice belonged to Paul, but the woman‟s voice, although it seemed very familiar, did not register right away. Then, as the happy memory of first meeting Paul faded from his tired brain, Noah realized why the voice sounded so familiar. It was Cherie‟s voice, and she was doing what she always did best: she was threatening Paul with more legal action. It would seem that Paul was not entitled to see his son when the judge had ordered because that was inconvenient to Cherie. Typical, Noah thought as he pushed himself off the sofa. How the hell that woman ever got a job as a counselor—and kept it—is beyond me! He tiptoed to the door, not really knowing why, since nothing could be heard over the shrill yapping that had earned Cherie her nickname among the students, and peered out the peep hole. Sure enough, he could just make out Paul‟s pained and aggravated expression over Cherie‟s wild hand gestures. Barbie, some of the students used to call her, especially when she was doing hall duty or supervising in the cafeteria. The nickname had come from one of the French Immersion students who‟d read a story about a rare breed of dog that was usually black, very hairy, and known for its shrill bark. And with the possible exception of the Barbet breed being likened to pictures of a 1950s B-movie wolfman, Cherie was a dead ringer for a Barbet. Her untamed frizzy black hair made her seem as if she were 29

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some sort of witch, and the shrill yelling she preferred to do from across a crowded congregation of students had provided the students with more than enough fodder to make her the brunt of far too many jokes. Noah leaned his forehead against the cool metal of his door and sighed, reaching out to the small table for his cell phone. He debated momentarily with himself about going out there and shutting her down, trying to convince himself that he was doing it so that he could maybe get some more rest. He wasn‟t performing at the club tonight and had planned on doing some reading for pleasure before getting a good night‟s sleep. But he not only knew that he would go out there, he also knew he would be doing so to help Paul. The midafternoon dream that he‟d just had about meeting Paul and their subsequent fast friendship had had a bizarre effect on Noah, the old instincts to protect this man coming back in full force and causing him to conveniently forget how Paul had betrayed him. As he unchained and unlocked the door, the only thought he had was of rescuing Paul—again. Noah pulled open the door and entered the hallway, shuffling his slippers across the concrete floor. He could see instantly that Paul noticed him, but Cherie was still gesturing wildly, her voice so shrill without the buffer of the heavy metal door that it caused Noah to wince. He pulled himself up alongside his former colleagues and stopped. Cherie finally glanced over at him. “Hi,” Noah said, his hands resting comfortably on his hips. “You mind taking this outside or inside your loft?” “It‟s not our loft, and I‟ll thank you—” “I wasn‟t speaking to you, Mrs. Lang,” Noah said, his lips curling into a sneer; Cherie had never taken Paul‟s last name. “I was speaking to Paul.” “Then why were you looking at me?” “Because you‟re the one barking out here like some lunatic while I‟m trying to sleep.”

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A Still, Small Voice “Still haven‟t found another job, huh?” Cherie‟s arms were crossed over her chest now, her intention to provoke Noah quite clear. “Must be tough to get another job when you‟re a sexual deviant.” Noah laughed. Okay, I tried to be nice. “Cherie, I‟d love to stand out here and trade witticisms with you for the next couple of hours, but if you don‟t can it and get the fuck out of this building, I‟ll be more than happy to call the police and press charges.” Noah reached into his back pocket and took out his cell phone. Cherie inhaled deeply, and Noah looked down at his iPhone, punching in the first two digits, preparing himself for a heated battle. “You‟ll be hearing from my lawyer,” Cherie said to Paul and then shrugged her purse higher onto her shoulder. With one final sneer at Noah, who just continued to smile, Cherie stormed down the three stairs and pushed open the door, her sickeningly sweet perfume still lingering in the air. “What a bitch,” Noah mumbled as he turned and headed back to his apartment. He wanted to turn around to speak with Paul, but he found himself suddenly resentful that his former lover had reappeared in his life, bringing all the drama that Noah had thought of as his past. “Thank you,” Paul said, and Noah raised a hand, his only acknowledgment of the comment. When Noah reached his door, he heard Paul‟s footsteps. “And I‟m sorry that we woke you. She‟s just—” “I know, Paul. I worked with her for four years before you came along.” Noah crossed the threshold of his loft and put his hand on the doorknob, ready to close it and continue his nap. “And I tried to warn you about her, didn‟t I?” His heart broke a little at the sad expression on Paul‟s face, at the resigned and defeated nod of his head. “I guess I should have listened to you, huh?” Paul offered a humorless laugh and shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “I think she only married me so that she could have a child.” “That‟s none of my business, Paul.” Noah began to shut the door. “Not anymore, anyway.” Noah offered a sad smile for what could have

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D.W. Marchwell been or for what Paul was going through with his wife; he wasn‟t really sure which. “Can I take you out to dinner or something?” Paul removed his hands from his pockets and began to move them in circles, one around the other. Noah recognized the gesture with something akin to heartache; it was what Paul did when he was nervous or feeling alone and lonely. It was what he had been doing when he‟d first asked Noah out on their first date. “You know, to thank you.” “I‟m sorry, but no.” Noah closed the door without saying good-bye, without saying anything further, in fact. He was wide awake, but the memory of that afternoon in late September, when Paul had come to his classroom to invite him to dinner, came back to Noah with astonishing clarity. He returned to his sofa, suddenly feeling exhausted, and closed his eyes. … As had been his custom since he‟d begun his teaching career, Noah was in his room after the last class of the day and was calling parents to advise them of missing assignments, progress or lack thereof, and any concerns over skipping classes or detrimental behavior issues. He‟d just finished a call to Skyler‟s father and was resting his head in his hands, wondering how a father could be so clueless, when he heard a knock at the door. He looked up just as Paul came through the door offering a smile. “Bad day?” “No,” Noah said, shaking his head. “I don‟t know why I‟m still so surprised when parents believe everything their kids tell them.” “Uh-oh,” Paul remarked as he sat on one of the desks beside Noah‟s large one. “Can I ask which one?” “Skyler something-or-other,” Noah said as he leaned back in his chair and scrubbed his hands over his face. “She‟s done nothing so far, she‟s failed the two unit tests, and she seems to think that rules don‟t apply to her.”

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A Still, Small Voice “I think I know who you‟re talking about. Dark hair, attitude to spare, and a real fondness for arguing?” Noah nodded. “Anyway, what can I do for you?” Noah‟s question seemed to cause Paul‟s expression to become somewhat guarded, his two large hands circling each other as he studied something on the floor. “I was just wondering if you might want to, you know… I wanted to take you out to dinner or something. To say… to thank you for all the help you‟ve given me.” Paul finally looked over at Noah, who was finding the entire scenario quite endearing and touching. He wasn‟t sure if Paul was actually asking him out or not, but he decided to take pity on the man. “Sure,” Noah said as he began to pack up his laptop and the tests he needed to correct for tomorrow. “Did you want to go tonight, or were you thinking some other night?” “Tonight‟s good,” Paul said as he lifted himself off the desk and watched Noah put his things in his briefcase. “You can pick the restaurant and I‟ll pay.” “Oh, I‟m no good at that. I always end up picking the place with the worst service and food worse than a Cuban prison.” Noah laughed and noticed how Paul seemed to relax visibly. “Why don‟t you pick and pay?” “Sure, but I just have to go up to my room and get some things to take home.” Paul started backing up to the door. “Do you want to meet there, or…?” “Where?” “How about Sara‟s over on 87th? In half an hour?” Paul moved toward the door, and Noah followed. Noah looked at his watch. “Sure, it will give me enough time to go home and change.” “Don‟t need to,” Paul said as he waited for Noah to lock his classroom door. “Nothing wrong with how you look right now.”

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D.W. Marchwell Noah swiveled his head quickly to see the look on Paul‟s face, but he seemed to find something fascinating to study at the other end of the hallway. He wasn‟t sure if Paul was flirting with him or just trying to be nice, but Noah figured he would find out soon enough at dinner. Sara‟s was one of those kinds of restaurants where the lighting was kept low, the candles were scented, and the conversations as quiet and unobtrusive as the wait staff. Noah bid good-bye to Paul at the door to his classroom and exited the building, not realizing until he was halfway home that he was wearing a grin. He wasn‟t sure if it was because of the possibility that Paul was asking him out tonight or if it was because he really wanted to find out. Noah‟s gaydar would never be what Aiden called finely tuned, and this fact had caused a few uncomfortable situations for Noah in the past, but regardless, Noah really liked Paul. He liked how motivated and conscientious Paul was about trying to be an advocate for all of his students. Noah was gaining a tremendous amount of respect for the new staff member and had enjoyed almost a month of spending time with him discussing student government as well as helping him as a mentor. Paul‟s confidence seemed to be growing daily, and Noah had noticed that he no longer asked questions about discipline or classroom management. And the students seemed to like the new teacher as well. Even if he wasn‟t on duty, Paul would take the time to go to the cafeteria and chat with some of the students. And if he wasn‟t in the cafeteria, he could usually be found in his classroom helping students who were having difficulties with essays or social studies concepts. Paul hadn‟t needed much help from Noah when it came to course content, but he‟d definitely needed some guidance on how to take advantage of the SMART Board technology that now saw Paul streaming videos of current events. Noah had spent almost an entire afternoon one Saturday, when Paul had discovered that Noah also liked to come in on Saturdays to get caught up or prepare for the week ahead, explaining all the different ways to make use of the SMART Board. One of the first uses Paul had discovered was how to access YouTube videos or news broadcasts that 34


would help the students connect and discuss certain issues that led to political policies in Canada. As he pulled into his parking place at home, Noah smiled at the memory of how Paul had come to him at the end of one particular school day, his smile broad and his disposition bubbly, and recounted how all of the students had been engaged and focused on the issues that had been raised during one YouTube video. Noah was experienced enough to know what that kind of moment felt like, and still young enough to think that the educational system in Alberta hadn‟t been too irreversibly damaged. He changed quickly, grabbed his keys again, and headed to the elevator, wondering how long the damned thing would be working this time and when, exactly, he‟d be back to climbing up and down twenty flights of stairs. He reminded himself again about being a little more proactive about finding his own home, or at the very least finding an apartment that was better than the one he was currently renting. He thought of the article he‟d read about a new development of lofts going up closer to downtown and tried to remember the name of the developer. He‟d given up on remembering the name as he found his way to Sara‟s and pulled into the parking lot, spotting Paul‟s blue pickup almost immediately. He parked beside it and turned off the engine, exiting the vehicle and pocketing his keys. When he entered the dimly lit foyer, he spotted Paul sitting on one of the benches near the entrance. “Just waiting for you,” Paul said by way of explanation. “Do you have a preference for booth or table?” Noah shook his head and smiled as Paul turned to the hostess and requested a booth. I wonder if he read my mind, Noah wondered, his mind automatically thinking about how much more private a booth would be than a table. He wasn‟t sure why, but he felt like he was being courted, pursued, almost. “What‟s that sly smile for?”

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Noah looked up and saw Paul smiling. My God, this man is so handsome. Noah tried to force the smile off his face and shook his head. “Nothing. I didn‟t realize I was smiling. Probably just glad to be out of that building.” Noah picked up one of the menus that the hostess had laid on the table. “Sometimes it feels like I live at that school.” “I know the feeling,” Paul said, commiserating. “What do you do when you‟re not in school, then?” Noah wasn‟t sure if he would be able to reveal all of the details of his life outside of school, since most straight men didn‟t understand how any man could put on women‟s clothing and get up in front of a nightclub full of people. It was a misunderstood art form as far as Noah was concerned. There was something completely liberating about changing your entire identity and allowing yourself to just be that person for a little while. Of course, it had been Aiden who had created the personas while Noah went along with it all, his only job being to sing live. After realizing he‟d probably taken a little too long to answer, Noah finally shrugged and said, “A little bit of everything, I guess. I like swimming, photography… you know, the same stuff that most people like to do.” “Yeah, me too, I guess.” Paul looked down at his menu and studied it for a moment. “I‟ve only been here once, but the calamari is really good. Do you eat seafood?” “Who doesn‟t?” “Did you want to get a couple of appetizers and share, or…?” Noah nodded and watched as Paul closed his menu and took a long swallow from his water glass. “Anything look good for an entrée?” “I think I‟ll just have the chicken Caesar.” “So that‟s how you manage to stay so fit,” Paul said as he leaned back and patted his stomach. “I should probably start watching that too.” “There‟s nothing wrong with your weight,” Noah protested, and he took up his own water glass. 36

A Still, Small Voice “Thanks, but I‟m not as fit as I used to be.” Paul took Noah‟s menu and put it on top of his, pushing both to the side of the table. “Do you ever stay and use the fitness room at the school?” “Not really,” Noah said, shaking his head. “I have my own little workout area in the second bedroom of my apartment.” “Must be nice. Do you work out in the morning or the afternoon?” “Usually in the evenings, a couple of hours after dinner.” Noah found this line of questioning a little bizarre, but he didn‟t really have any other topics coming to mind. “Do you prefer working out alone?” Noah looked up and noticed—perhaps for the first time—how Paul was wrapping the napkin around one hand and then unfurling it, just to repeat the process over the other hand. It seemed to be similar to the man‟s habit of circling his hands one over the other, but with fabric. Paul glanced at him, and then Noah‟s confused mind saw everything quite clearly. Paul was looking for a workout buddy. “It doesn‟t really matter to me. If you‟re looking for someone to keep you motivated, I guess I could work out at the school.” “That would be great,” Paul said, and Noah noticed the napkin being returned to Paul‟s lap. “If I don‟t have someone there to keep me going, I tend to quit and go home and drink beer and watch football… or hockey… or… anything, really.” Noah laughed as the waitress approached the table to take their orders. Noah wasn‟t too sure if this show of self-deprecation was an act or not, but at least Noah would get a look at Paul‟s considerable shoulders and chest and that incredible ass. He‟d probably be sore from lifting more weight than he was used to—he wasn‟t about to be so stupid as to let Paul think he was some sort of weakling—but as he sat across from this man, Noah figured that a few weeks‟ worth of sore muscles would be fully paid back by getting to spend so much time with Paul.

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Chapter Four

“SWEETUMS?” Noah looked over and saw Aiden staring again. “What?” Aiden rolled his eyes and glared. “Could you at least pretend to listen to me when I‟m talking to you? Honestly, you‟re acting more vacuous than usual. Stop it.” “I‟m tired,” Noah said as he tried to remember what they‟d been talking about. “I didn‟t sleep well last night.” Noah knew there was absolutely no way he would be able to tell his best friend that he was preoccupied with Paul—again. Aiden would skin him alive and then probably create cushions out of the skin, a reminder to Noah how he‟d been nothing more than a fuck trophy to Paul all along. And, of course, Noah wasn‟t really sure he wanted to have to try to explain that he still thought that Aiden was wrong. He’s just confused. Maybe I’m the person who can help him come out. Deep down, Noah knew that Paul would never change, but he wasn‟t really listening to that voice lately; he preferred to listen to the one that kept telling him that Paul was back in his life. “You need to get laid,” Aiden announced, completely oblivious to the fact that Noah was thinking the same thing and had spent the better part of his sleepless night remembering when he and Paul had fucked like bunny rabbits. “Why don‟t we go to the club?” Aiden‟s voice became low and husky. “Maybe Oscar will be there.”

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Noah turned his head and studied his friend through half-closed eyes, his lack of amusement quite clear. “Oscar and I barely know each other, and that‟s the way I like it.” “Honestly, Noah,” Aiden said as he grabbed his mug and headed to the kitchen to make more tea. “How will you ever get over that sociopathic breeder unless you learn to appreciate what else is out there?” “Paul is not sociopathic.” He’s just confused, Noah was thinking when he heard the knock at the door. He rose from the sofa and turned just in time to see Aiden heading to open the door. Noah ran to avoid certain catastrophe. He‟d been so engrossed in his own thoughts about his ex-lover reentering his life that he‟d not once considered that having Paul living down the hall meant that Aiden and Paul would eventually cross paths again. Oil and water did not even come close to explaining the fracas that always seemed to be the result of those two men being in the same room. “I‟ll get it,” Noah said, his smile a little too exaggerated. “Why don‟t you go into the spare bedroom and look through those outfits?” “Sweetie,” Aiden said as he embraced Noah and kissed him on the cheek. “You do have someone.” Aiden pulled back a little to look at Noah, his hands moving to squeeze Noah‟s upper arms. “Say no more. I will away and allow you time to chitty-chat with the new beau.” As he walked toward the spare bedroom, Aiden turned and said, “But if I find out that this has been going on for more than three weeks and I haven‟t yet had the courtesy of an introduction, I shall be quite vexed.” Aiden wagged a finger at Noah and disappeared around the corner. When he was certain that Aiden was out of the line of sight, Noah pulled the door open and stepped out into the hall, noticing right away that Paul was standing away from the peephole, off to the side, practically plastered against the wall beside the door to Noah‟s loft. Noah raised an eyebrow. “I heard that voice and figured you probably hadn‟t told him I‟d moved in down the hall.” Noah didn‟t have to ask why Paul was whispering. 39

D.W. Marchwell “Thank you,” Noah said as he pulled the door shut and kept his hand on the knob, prepared to hamper any plan that Aiden had to conveniently come out in the hallway and discover that Paul had not been banished to Siberia after all. “We‟re just working on some… stuff.” Noah didn‟t feel like sharing that he was still doing the drag shows that had supplied him with money after his brush with the criminal justice system. It was a touchy subject, or at least it had been, between Paul and Noah. Paul didn‟t understand the need for Noah to use costumes when he performed. “Why can‟t you sing dressed as a man?” Paul asked all the time. Noah had tried to explain that it was simply more fun to do it dressed up as someone else. It wasn‟t that Noah‟s costumes were flamboyantly drag but that there was makeup and an exaggerated feminine persona that went along with the show. Paul had never been to any of Noah‟s shows, and for that, Noah had always been very grateful. It had been hard enough to get Paul to stay the night sometimes, let alone get him to enter a club that was primarily known for its gay clientele. Those had been another couple of touchy subjects for the two men. At first, Noah had found it endearing that Paul didn‟t want to chance parents or students seeing him exiting Noah‟s apartment building, which just happened to be less than two miles from the high school. But after several months of it, Noah had grown quite unhinged about the whole practice of Paul skulking out under the cover of dark after the sex had led to cuddling and caressing and spooning. Of course, as usual, Noah had chalked it up to progress. He’s cuddling and spooning now; eventually, he’ll want to stay the night. “I was just coming to ask if you‟d changed your mind about dinner, but now that I know you‟re busy, maybe we can do it some other time.” Paul was still whispering. “I‟m sorry, Paul, but I said no and I meant it.” Noah stopped talking and put his ear to the door. Satisfied that Aiden was not on the other side, he turned back to face Paul, intent on putting everything into perspective. “Listen, I‟m sorry that you‟re going through these problems with Cherie, but we can‟t go back to being friends, Paul.” “Why not?” 40

A Still, Small Voice Noah tried not to look too stunned by the question. “Seriously?” He noticed Paul‟s nod and continued. “Because you sleep with me, lead me on, tell me you need time, which I give you over and over, and then you report me to the police… on the word of Skyler.” “Jesus, Noah—” “You didn‟t even have the balls to come and tell me first… warn me… nothing.” Noah heard himself and lowered his voice. “And then, while I‟m being escorted out of the school in handcuffs, that bitch is telling everyone about your engagement.” Noah was torn between feeling satisfied by the look on Paul‟s face and guilty about it. “When did you propose to her, exactly? Was it that day? Or was it sometime before that day, after you‟d fucked me and slithered out of the apartment to go to her?” Paul stood, his face a mix of confusion and—Noah hoped—guilt. Neither of them said anything for a few seconds, a noise finally snapping Noah out of feeling rarified for having been able to say these things to Paul‟s face. But the victory left a bitter taste in his mouth. Despite what had happened all those years ago, Noah still saw that scared and confused man who‟d allowed himself to be manipulated by Cherie. “Look, Paul, I‟m sorry. Maybe if I‟d had the chance to say those things all those years ago we could have parted as friends, but now? I‟m sorry, but I don‟t trust you anymore.” Noah turned the doorknob, stopping for only a few moments to look back at Paul. “I know you don‟t understand why, but I don‟t think I‟ll ever be able to trust you again or even give you the chance to prove me wrong. Good-bye, Paul.” Noah walked through the door and closed it right away, leaning against it when he was on the other side, suddenly even more exhausted. He listened to Paul‟s footsteps, and hearing the door close, he returned to the sofa and lay down, hearing Aiden‟s attempts at vocalizing coming from the spare bedroom. He was even too tired to make up some reason why he wanted Aiden to leave. Noah just wanted to take a couple of sleeping pills and go to sleep for a week. 41

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After a few minutes of working up the courage to tell Aiden they‟d have to postpone yet again so that he could get some sleep, Noah heard his friend coming down the hall. “Oh. My. God.” Aiden rushed over to him, his cell phone in his hand. “I just got a text from Clarence. You will not believe what just happened.” Noah sat up, trying not to look impatient, and stared at Aiden. “I‟m not guessing, so just tell me.” “Well,” Aiden said as he looked around for his clogs and backpack. “It would seem that Frank and Tim just had a huge set-to in the club. And it looks like I‟m going to get my chance at Frank.” Aiden‟s brow furrowed for a moment. “How long should I wait until I ask him out? What does Emily Post say about that?” “If she were still alive, she would probably tell you to wait for a month or two—” “And let someone else snatch him up? I do not think so.” “Aiden, how many times have they broken up and then gotten back together for the sake of the puppies?” Noah didn‟t wait for an answer. “Just this year alone, that has to be their third break-up.” “Second,” Aiden corrected and headed for the door. “But I‟m optimistic. I want to be prepared. It may be a false alarm, but what if it isn‟t?” Aiden winked at him and headed out the door. Noah fell back on the sofa for a moment, then rose to go lock the door. When the door was secure, he stopped in the kitchen long enough to take a sleeping pill and head for a nice hot shower before he crawled into bed. As he passed the living room, he heard his grandmother‟s antique clock chime seven. With any luck, he‟d be showered, in bed and soundly into a REM cycle by half-past. He showered and then settled himself in bed, glanced at the clock, felt his eyelids growing heavy, and pulled the covers up under his chin. As sleep came to claim him, he again dismissed the feelings of guilt that he‟d been too hard on Paul. …

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A Still, Small Voice “Hey.” Noah looked over at the door and saw Paul standing there with a big smile on his face. As he approached, Noah finished cleaning the whiteboards, then turned to see what had Paul so happy. “You win the lottery or something?” “No,” Paul said as he plunked himself down onto one of the desks. “Just had my first evaluation by Thomas.” Noah nodded, hoping that Thomas had actually shown up for more than five minutes and paid attention. Thomas Midbo was the principal of the school and one of the most ineffectual administrators that Noah had ever worked with. Not only was he hardly ever at the school, but his preferred method of discipline was to yell at the students and then send them back to the classroom that they‟d been ejected from. “And?” “He had a lot of nice things to say,” Paul explained. “There are a couple of areas he told me to focus on, but overall he said that he was quite impressed with my ability to engage students in history class.” “Well, congratulations.” “Feel like celebrating?” “Sure,” Noah said, happy that Paul was feeling so pleased. “I‟ll just get my things.” “I was thinking about ordering pizza and beer.” Paul stood up and suddenly clasped his hands together, a look of uncertainty on his face. “Unless you want to go out somewhere.” “Your choice,” Noah said as he stuffed his briefcase with papers and a few make-up math tests to correct. “You pick, I‟ll pay.” “Okay, pizza and beer at my place.” Noah pulled up to a rather plain and unpretentious apartment building just a few blocks from his own building and parked on the street behind Paul‟s blue pickup. He exited his own vehicle, doing some mental calculations to figure out how long he could stay and still make it home with enough time to finish all of his marking. He finally 43

D.W. Marchwell figured he‟d have to leave by nine and made his way to wait by the front door of the building. “How long have you lived here?” “Just moved in a couple of months ago, at the start of the summer.” Paul pulled out his key and let them both in. After walking up three flights of stairs, Noah soon found himself inside a small one-bedroom apartment that was sparsely furnished with outdated and rather inexpensive pieces. The furnishings were probably hand-me-downs from parents or grandparents, Noah assumed, but still serviceable and well maintained. Noah wondered if the little desk beside the green velour sofa had been with Paul since his childhood. He thought of his own first apartment and the furniture he‟d had, some of the pieces having been in his childhood home. It had taken him many years, but he‟d finally managed to replace everything except the few pieces that held unshakeable sentimental value for him. “I only live a few blocks from here,” Noah said, not really sure Paul would care. “Really?” Paul pulled a laminated card off of the refrigerator and walked over to where Noah stood in the living room, handing him the card. “Your place is probably a lot nicer than mine. This is all I could really afford.” “That‟ll change soon enough. Each year you teach, you‟ll move up on the salary scale, and when you‟ve been teaching as long as I have, you‟ll be making more than enough money.” Noah took the card and studied the pizza choices from the same place he usually ordered from. “Well, as long as you‟re not extravagant, that is.” Paul opened his arms and turned from right to left. “I think you can already tell that I‟m not terribly fussy in my tastes.” Paul offered a quick, embarrassed laugh and then headed back to the kitchen. “Although I will admit that I‟m quite partial to imported beer. I hope you like Heineken.” “Sure, that‟ll be great.” Noah stood and perused the menu, wondering if he would have to sit on his own or if Paul would extend the invitation.

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A Still, Small Voice “Please,” Paul said as he returned with two bottles of beer, “make yourself comfortable and let me know when you‟ve decided, then I‟ll call in the order.” “I should probably call since I don‟t have much cash. I‟ll have to use my credit card.” Noah sat at one end of the velour sofa as Paul took sat down in the mismatched blue recliner. “Why don‟t I get this one, then, and you can get the next one?” “Nothing doing, Mr. Great Evaluation. This is supposed to be my treat.” “But I‟m the one who invited you, so technically—” “You‟re not paying,” Noah announced, pointing a finger at his new friend. “And that‟s final.” “Okay, okay,” Paul said as he raised one hand in surrender and brought the beer bottle to his lips. After he took a healthy swig, he teased, “I should know by now there‟s no beating Mr. Discipline. I‟ve heard plenty of stories from the kids about how you should have been a lawyer… always trapping kids in lies and never letting them get away with any garbage.” Noah wasn‟t really sure if that observation was meant as a compliment or not, but he decided to ignore it completely. “What‟s your favorite?” Noah asked as he held up the menu. “My mother used to call me the human garbage can. I‟ll eat anything, so it‟s up to you to choose what you like.” “Okay,” Noah said, returning his attention to the menu card. “How about a vegetarian for me and a meat-lovers‟ for you?” “How did you know that was my favorite?” “I didn‟t… until now, but I just figured you‟d probably be like most of the other jocks I‟ve known.” “Do most jocks like lots of meat on their pizzas?” Paul‟s lips curved into a sly grin as he raised his bottle back toward his mouth. “Most jocks are human garbage cans. In my experience, anyway.” 45

D.W. Marchwell “Uh-oh,” Paul said, the grin growing a little bit more pronounced. “Don‟t tell me. You were the nerdy type who got picked on by the jocks.” It wasn‟t really a question, and Noah thought about denying it for a moment but then decided not to say anything. When he didn‟t get an answer, Paul spoke again. “Or were you one of those kids in the drama club who sang and danced and got teased for being a fag?” “And if I was?” Noah had never done anything with drama or dancing when he‟d been in school, but he‟d certainly been called a few choice names by many of the jocks who figured he was gay. “Wouldn‟t bother me. At all.” Paul put his bottle on the coffee table and rose out of his chair. He walked slowly to where Noah was sitting and extended a hand. Noah put the menu in the large hand, noticing for the first time the veins and soft hairs. “I would be a hypocrite if it did.” Noah understood the message, what Paul was trying to say, almost immediately. He felt his heart race as the heated skin of Paul‟s fingers made contact with his skin, heard the breath rush in and out of his dry mouth. He was at a complete loss for words when Paul put the menu on the coffee table and then reached back for his hand, lifting him off of the sofa and wrapping him in his arms in one smooth movement. He thought of protesting, but he couldn‟t focus on anything other than the feel of the warm skin of Paul‟s arms, the gentle caresses of those strong hands up and down his back. He couldn‟t find the words to explain that he didn‟t think this was such a good idea. He wanted Paul more than anything, wanted this to happen, wanted to know what it would feel like to be pressed firmly together, bare skin to bare skin. “It‟s taken me so long to work up the courage to do this,” Paul explained as he brought his face closer to Noah‟s. “Please tell me this is okay.” Noah could only nod, fearful that if he spoke, his voice would only echo the jumbled and confused shrieks of happiness he heard in his own head. His eyes darted frantically back and forth between Paul‟s 46


hazel eyes, trying to recognize deception or confusion. Noah found neither. And when Paul brought their lips together for the first time, Noah‟s arms latched on to the solid shoulders as his legs suddenly threatened to give out from the sheer tenderness of Paul‟s kiss. Noah was certainly no virgin, but he‟d never felt anything even remotely akin to what he was feeling now. He hadn‟t been involved in any kind of committed relationship for more than two years, having decided after his last disastrous relationship that being alone was preferable to being with someone who made him miserable. He knew that he would eventually meet the one, but he‟d never dared hope that it would be this good, that the man he would one day fall in love with would have everything he was looking for. Everything. Little by little, Paul‟s kisses grew more intense. Noah continued to hold on to the taller man as he felt his head growing lighter from not breathing; he knew he should break the kiss and take a breath, but he couldn‟t seem to make his muscles obey what his brain was telling them. Finally, Paul pulled away but remained so close to him that Noah could feel the hot breath caress his flushed cheeks. “You‟re an incredible kisser, Noah.” Noah couldn‟t smile, couldn‟t respond, couldn‟t do anything other than stare into those hazel eyes. When Paul pulled away from him, Noah felt the cool air between them and wondered if he‟d done something wrong. But then Paul was taking his hand and leading him from the living room to the hall and into the bedroom. “I don‟t think I can wait until after the pizza,” Paul whispered, his voice husky with desire, his eyes looking down as he unbuttoned Noah‟s shirt. “Undress me? Wanna feel your hands all over me.” Noah did as he was told and began to unbutton Paul‟s shirt, exposing the slightly hairy torso underneath. “Your skin is so hot,” Noah said and looked up at Paul and then back down as he pulled the shirt from the trousers. His hands were shaking a little as he felt the cool air move over his now-naked torso. 47

D.W. Marchwell They both reached for each other‟s pants at the same time, the tangle of arms presenting little impediment to their individual efforts. Noah finished first and didn‟t wait for his pants to be tugged down or pulled off, dropping to his knees right away and taking Paul‟s impressive cock into his mouth, swallowing the whole length and girth. He closed his eyes as he felt the satiny skin fill and stretch, Paul‟s hands caressing his head. Neither made a sound. Noah let his hands travel over the taut abdomen, the solid thighs, and the flexing and straining muscles of Paul‟s ass as he pushed gently in and out of Noah‟s mouth. He fondled Paul‟s low-hanging balls, his mouth straining to keep the growing erection contained. Noah wondered just how big Paul would get. It seemed absolutely enormous. And as he felt himself being pulled up by the strong arms, Noah wanted to know what it would feel like inside of him. “Sorry,” Paul said, his impressive chest heaving up and down as he breathed heavily. “I don‟t want to come just yet. Want this to last for a while.” Noah nodded. “Yes, me too.” His hands traveled south and found the heavy dick. He stroked it gently for a few moments as their lips found each other again. His thumb moved slowly over the head, the pre-cum making the silky surface slick while Paul‟s tongue moved past his lips and searched for its partner. “Fuck,” Paul hissed. “That feels so fucking incredible.” Noah felt dizzy, not really sure if it was due to Paul‟s raspy, low voice or from lack of oxygen. He broke the kiss and moved to kneel in front of Paul again, his hands finally removing his own pants, boxers, and even socks. As he took Paul‟s engorged cock in his mouth again, he pushed the bigger man toward the side of the bed. As Paul lay back on the bed, Noah used his hands to push the muscular thighs apart, his mouth reclaiming its prize. “You‟re gonna make me come if you keep doing that,” Paul warned as Noah felt his hips beginning to buck. “Can you reach my nipples?”

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Noah followed this instruction as well, finding them, pinching them, and rolling them slowly between thumbs and forefingers. The sounds coming from Paul were almost primeval. Noah cupped the heavy balls with one hand while the other continued to pinch and twist first one nipple and then the other. Noah was quite sure that he could probably come just from knowing the effect he was having on Paul. “Stop, please, wanna fuck you,” Paul pleaded and tried to move Noah‟s head. “Fuck, Noah,” Paul said, and Noah figured it was a surrender when Noah did not stop his ministrations. Noah felt the heavy balls pull up, the thighs begin to tremble slightly, and when he pressed a thumb into the soft flesh between balls and asshole, Noah heard a strangled cry just moments before he felt the heated cum hit the back of his throat. Noah felt uneasy now that Paul had climaxed. Should Noah lie on the bed beside Paul and just assume that Paul would take care of his needs now? Or should Noah prepare himself for potential guilt, the kind that would see Paul hastily put his clothes on and make some sort of excuse about forgetting an important appointment? “Come here,” Paul said, sitting up, his hands pulling down Noah‟s trousers and boxers. “Your turn, baby.” As he felt himself swallowed down to the base, Noah closed his eyes again and felt lips, tongue, teeth, fingers, and hands play his body as if it were some sort of forgotten instrument that had been locked away in a closet for far too long. He just hoped that he wouldn‟t find himself forgotten again, not right away, anyway; he wanted this feeling to last, totally undone by the wondrous feeling of sex with someone he could see himself falling for before the sex happened.

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Chapter Five

NOAH sat at his desk, his mind still trying to decipher all of these memories of Paul. He‟d begun the day by checking over the reports from his most recent project, having convinced himself that all of these dreams and memories of Paul were because his ex-lover had moved into the same building. But as he stared at the clock, realizing that he was falling behind and would need to skip lunch—again—he wasn‟t so sure that was the reason. Noah was pretty sure that he was no longer in love with Paul, the distrust he felt toward the man as strong as it had been six years ago. So then why did Noah allow this particular distraction? Why was he suddenly so preoccupied with feelings of guilt for having rebuffed the man yesterday? Noah knew he shouldn‟t feel guilty, knew that he‟d been betrayed by the man who had professed to love him. But he did feel guilty, and it was driving him mad. Paul‟s happiness was not his responsibility and it had never been, but still, Noah couldn‟t help the feeling that Paul was lonely, much as he‟d been six years ago. He had been abandoned by his wife, had a child who was being used as some sort of living rope in the tug-of-war with Cherie, and was now being rejected by Noah. “Hey, boss?” Noah looked up to see Jim, one of his technicians, standing at his office door. “Yeah?” “We‟re going to be running the new protocols, and it‟ll take a couple of hours. Feel like coming with for an extended lunch?”

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Noah opened his mouth to politely decline the invitation but then realized he would just be sentencing himself to sitting here, alone with his thoughts of Paul. “Sure,” he said and then stood, patting his back pocket to make sure his wallet was still there. “We meeting there, or is everyone going together?” “Everyone‟s out by the elevator, waiting on me… and you, now.” “Let‟s go, then,” Noah said as he grabbed his keys and closed his door, locking it securely. He walked beside Jim to the elevators, where they joined the rest of Noah‟s team. “Where we eating?” “We thought we might try that new restaurant over on 48th,” Maria explained as the doors opened and they all gathered inside the mirrored elevator. “I heard it was incredible.” “Sounds good,” Noah said as he caught his reflection in the harsh fluorescent lighting. He was thinking about how tired he looked, about how he would be getting shit from Aiden at the club tonight. Noah would have to use a lot of concealer to hide the dark circles under his eyes and take special care that he warmed up his voice properly and well. He felt so much older than his thirty-five years. The elevator doors opened and they headed, walking in groups of two, through the lobby and down the street before heading north to 48th Street. They arrived at the restaurant to find it mostly deserted, except, Noah was shocked to discover, for Aiden. His best friend was sitting facing the front door and across from a man with a very broad back. Noah wondered if Aiden had found another eligible suitor to add to his growing list of what Aiden liked to call Dropped Balls. It wasn‟t that Aiden was incapable of staying in a relationship, but rather that Aiden usually found some niggling little flaw that he then proceeded to blow out of all proportion. There had been the gorgeous waiter who adored Aiden, but he was soon discarded because, as Aiden had noted, “Please, darling, what kind of future do I have with a waiter? He‟s gorgeous, of course, but he‟s poor. What kind of life can I have living on tips?” Noah had found it to be a shallow reason, but then he‟d always known that about Aiden. And even when Aiden had attracted the attention of a very wealthy 51

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older banker, his eventual rejection of the middle-aged man had not been unexpected. “Yes, he‟s wealthy, but he likes me to dress in drag when we go out. How can I possibly stay tucked that long before it stops working completely in protest?” He smiled at his friend, told his colleagues that he would be back shortly, and walked over to greet Aiden and this mystery man with short hair and broad, muscled shoulders. As he neared the table, Aiden stood and pulled out a chair for Noah to sit. Noah held up his hand and explained, “Sorry, Aiden, just wanted to come and say hi. I‟m out with some of my team.” “Noah,” Aiden said as he sat back down, “I believe you‟ve met Oscar.” Noah turned to look at the man he‟d seen dozens of times, wondering why he‟d never noticed the broad back and the wellmuscled shoulders before. Oscar, the manager and owner, was found in the club most nights, but in one of the back offices or helping stock the bar during the busy hours. Other than the occasional slow night, when Oscar had time to venture out to chat with some of his acquaintances and friends, Noah never really saw him. “Yes, of course,” Noah said as Oscar stood and extended a hand. “It‟s nice to see that you actually take a break from working your fingers to the bone at the club.” Oscar‟s cheeks flushed a little, and he dropped Noah‟s hand, offering only a nod in Noah‟s direction. The juxtaposition of this Oscar with the one he was used to seeing in the club had Noah momentarily befuddled; he had to force his thoughts away from those beautiful green eyes and the ridiculously long and thick lashes, away from the feel of that firm handshake. “We were just discussing the new improvements that we‟re adding to our show,” Aiden explained as he indicated the empty seat again. Once more, Noah waved him off and nodded. “We don‟t have the details worked out yet, but we might be able to pull in some new crowds.”

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A Still, Small Voice “It sounds like a really good idea,” Oscar said finally, looking up quickly at Noah before returning his eyes to the dirty plate in front of him. “I can‟t wait to see the finished product.” “We should have it ready for a rehearsal by next week,” Aiden announced and looked up at Noah, who figured Aiden was expecting a fight or a contradiction. Noah provided neither, quite confident that the new show would be ready by then. “Oscar was just telling me that he‟s looking into updating his computer programming for… what was it again, sweetie?” Noah saw Oscar turn and look up at him. “I want to update the computer software we‟re using to do the accounts and to keep track of inventory and ordering.” “I told him that you could help him with that. Show up early one or two days and explain what he needs to look for in a reputable company that could help with all that.” Aiden took hold of his martini glass and leaned back, and Noah recognized the self-satisfied grin immediately. “Of course,” Oscar said, leaning back in his own chair, “that‟s only if you have the time. And… of course, I‟d pay you for your time.” “Nonsense,” Noah said, finally taking a seat so that Oscar wouldn‟t have to keep craning his neck to address him. “That won‟t be much work at all. I‟d be happy to do it for you, especially after all you‟ve done for us,” Noah explained as he looked back at Aiden. “That would be fantastic,” Oscar said, his smile bright and his eyes dancing between Noah and Aiden. Noah wondered why he‟d never noticed all of these little things he was noticing now. The white teeth, the beautiful smile, the stretch of the white shirt across a well-developed chest. Even the way Oscar seemed to be so shy and reserved was incredibly endearing. “Well,” Noah said finally, when there seemed to be nothing left to say. He turned to Oscar and smiled. “I‟ll call your number at the club and leave my cell number for you, and then you can contact me when

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D.W. Marchwell you‟re ready.” Turning to Aiden, Noah said, “And I‟ll see you tonight. Eight sharp?” “With bells, pumpkin,” Aiden cooed and waved quickly as Noah turned to rejoin his colleagues. As soon as he‟d returned to the office after lunch, Noah called the club and left the promised message for Oscar. He was not necessarily any more productive during the afternoon, but he felt a little bit lighter for some reason. He dismissed the random thoughts of Oscar as the potential reason as preposterous and reminded himself that he was supposed to be focusing on his work right now and not on getting involved with another man. He was taking a break from that part of his life, especially since his mind seemed to be awash in inexplicable thoughts of Paul… and now Oscar. Noah had long ago learned his lesson. When he wanted something badly enough, he was usually blind to the disasters that awaited around every corner. Like the time he‟d been blindsided when he‟d shown up at Paul‟s apartment unannounced. … Noah had been having a really crappy day and decided what he needed for comfort were the arms and lips of one attractive and wellmuscled social studies teacher. It was a week or so before Thanksgiving, which meant he was one week away from celebrating another Thanksgiving alone and without any family of his own. Aiden usually traveled north to Spruce Grove to spend a week or so with his own family, and Noah had never felt comfortable mixing business with pleasure, so he‟d never accepted an invitation to spend Thanksgiving with a colleague. There were a few who knew he was orphaned now and had been for many years, but for the most part, all of his other colleagues knew only the lie he told them: he spent Thanksgiving with a cousin who lived in Red Deer. He arrived at the front entrance to Paul‟s building, hoping beyond anything that this Thanksgiving he would be able to spend some of it with this new man in his life. He knew that Paul would probably be traveling to visit his parents or some other relatives, but Noah was sure 54

A Still, Small Voice Paul would find some time to spend with him. After all, hadn‟t he told Paul just a few days ago that he didn‟t have any family at all? “Hello?” Paul‟s garbled voice came over the ancient intercom. “It‟s me. You decent?” Noah smiled, imagining all of the things that he would do to ensure Paul didn‟t stay decent for long. But his smile faded as he heard nothing but silence for at least thirty seconds or more. “Paul?” There was no response. As he turned toward to his car, Noah heard the door open. Paul was standing there, buttoning up his shirt, his feet bare and his hair completely messed. Noah‟s heart sank as he recognized what Paul must have been doing. Noah knew that look very well by now. He tried not to show his disappointment, forcing a smile and looking directly into those hazel eyes. “Sorry, I should have called first.” Noah turned back toward the street, chastising himself for thinking Paul would be any different than the other men who‟d broken his heart. “Noah?” Paul called, but he did not move from the entranceway. Noah started the car, lowered his window completely, and welcomed the cool air against his flushed face, willing the sting from behind his eyes. He put the car into gear and headed home. He had some marking to do, and then he would take a nice, long shower and finish reading the latest mystery thriller by that author whose name he could never remember. A few short minutes later, he entered his apartment to the sound of Paul‟s voice pleading for him to listen to him. Noah didn‟t waste any time turning the volume down on the machine and pretending that the call had never existed. When the machine beeped again, signaling the end of the message, Noah punched the delete button and headed to the bedroom. As hard as he tried to convince himself that he wasn‟t really all that upset at being used, Noah knew that it was no use. He had gone and fallen in love with Paul. And now he would not only have to work with the man, but he would have to continue to be his mentor. It would be easy enough to cite his heavy workload to beg off the student council, but there was no way in hell that Noah would give Shane the satisfaction of requesting to be relieved of mentor duty; Shane would 55

D.W. Marchwell see this as a sign of weakness or a lack of “team spirit,” and Noah would never hear the end of it. He stayed under the hot water of the shower a little longer than he should have, the water turning cooler and forcing Noah to turn the water off. He liked the feeling of clean he always had when he got out of the shower, and this time was almost no different. With enough time, he told himself, I’ll be back to that feeling. Hell, with enough time, I’ll look back on all this and realize it was just something else to learn from. What Noah wasn‟t so honest about was the doubt he felt that any of this would happen as soon as he predicted. He was clean, dry, and lying in bed in no time, the story in the paperback trying its best to pull him into a world of mystery and intrigue. As he‟d done many times before, when he found his mind wandering, he concentrated a little harder and quickly found himself three chapters further into the book. Noah had always found solace in these stories, sometimes to the detriment of his social life. He‟d never bothered to think too hard about why he preferred the stories to the kind of social life that Aiden had always enjoyed, but then again, he‟d never been so aware of that particular aspect of his life before. He‟d never fallen in love with any of his boyfriends, had never truly known what it felt like to be at home, alone, wondering why he wasn‟t enough, where the boyfriend was, and what he was doing. Noah knew the thoughts would consume him if he let them, so he would make sure that his mind was kept occupied. He would concentrate on everything else that needed his attention. He would continue with student council, continue to run the school store, and continue to give as much attention as possible to his classes and his students. I’ll pretend that I’m up for evaluation this year, Noah thought to himself as he closed the book and reached for the bedside lamp. Turning it off, he rationalized to himself that focusing on the nonexistent evaluation would buy him the necessary time to put all of this behind him. For good. As he drifted off to sleep, Noah felt a little bit better about everything, realizing for the first time since last week that tomorrow, October 8th, would be his birthday. His twenty-ninth birthday. This 56


was why he needed to get his mind back on his own life; how could he allow himself to become so preoccupied that he‟d forget his own birthday? Maybe he would go out and buy that digital Nikon he‟d been looking at for a while. As one of the supervisors of the yearbook, he felt it was about time he actually did learn something about photography. Maybe, he thought to himself, I’ll beg off student council and explain to Shane that I want to spend more time on yearbook, become a more active supervisor. It made sense; after all, Paul was there to take over student council. It wasn‟t like Noah would be abandoning the student council at all. He would just be abandoning Paul. Feeling a sense of satisfaction that he‟d solved at least one of his problems, Noah took a deep breath and felt himself relax into the feather-top bed, his muscles relaxing even more. As had become his habit, he imagined a completely blank screen, focusing on the nothingness of it. He was so relaxed, as a matter of fact, that he didn‟t even register the knocking at the door until it was accompanied by Paul‟s pleading voice. Noah‟s heart started racing. He felt the cold prickly heat down his spine and realized Paul was not about to stop anytime soon. Fearing his neighbors might complain to the landlord, who was incredibly vigilant about maintaining a quiet building, Noah threw back the covers and quickly organized his thoughts before unlatching the chain, turning the deadbolt, and opening the door. “May I come in?” Paul stood there, fully dressed and sporting a look of contrition that immediately disarmed Noah just a little too much for his own comfort. Noah said nothing but stepped aside, only then aware that his door was wide open and he was wearing only a T-shirt and boxers. There were no children in the building, but Noah didn‟t really feel like giving the neighbors a show. He decided against offering anything to his uninvited guest and stood at the entrance to the living room, seeing that Paul had chosen to sit on the sofa, his large frame leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. Noah had nothing to say, so he could only wait until Paul had organized his thoughts enough to begin. He stood, 57

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waiting, leaning against the dining room table, his arms crossed over his chest. Noah was suddenly aware of how hard his heart was beating. “I never said that I was gay. I don‟t know why you‟re so upset.” Noah‟s first thought was that as an opener, it was a little formulaic. But then the words sank into his head and he realized, for the first time, that not only had Paul slept with someone else, but that he‟d been up there fucking a woman. Noah gained control over his impulse to ask for confirmation and schooled his expression. He would not be saying anything to Paul tonight, nor, perhaps, at any other time, either. So he stayed where he was and waited for it all to end. “I‟m sorry if I hurt you, but there are some things we can‟t always control.” Noah did nothing, said nothing. “Why aren‟t you saying anything?” Still, Noah said nothing. “I mean,” Paul said after a few moments. “Can‟t we still be friends?” When Noah still said nothing, Paul sighed and lifted himself off the sofa. “Okay,” Paul said as he walked toward Noah. “I didn‟t…. Things aren‟t always what they seem, Noah.” Paul walked past Noah and through the kitchen to the door of the apartment. Noah smelled the faint musk of Paul‟s cologne and closed his eyes, using every ounce of self-control to keep himself from speaking or moving or running to Paul to tell him that he could learn to live with being just something on the side. “For what it‟s worth,” Paul said, his voice a whisper, but one that still sent chills up and down Noah‟s spine, “I never wanted to hurt you.” Noah pushed himself off the table and walked to his front door, holding it until Paul was on the other side, in the hallway. He closed it without looking at Paul and turned the deadbolt, refastened the chain, and returned to the bedroom and his bed, taking up his paperback, trying to focus on anything but the resentment he felt at having to go through his entire relaxation process again.

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Happy birthday to me, Noah thought as he tried to remember how Special Agent Mackie had ended up gagged in the back of a speeding SUV.

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Chapter Six

BY

THE time Noah had shaken himself free from the memories and Aiden arrived for their rehearsal that evening, Noah‟s mood had changed considerably from what it had been when he‟d spoken with Aiden and Oscar in the restaurant. He hated reliving those moments, all of them doing nothing more than serving as reminders of his stupidity and why he now had to struggle to trust anyone who might show an interest in him. Of course, Noah wasn‟t kidding himself; he realized that he didn‟t really trust anyone, other than Aiden, of course, nor had he had anything even remotely resembling a date in six years. But he liked to tell himself that he did trust people, that he wasn‟t as distrustful, lost, and lonely as he truly was.

“Why are you still going left on the lowest note?” Aiden stood, the purple bandana on his head and the black one-piece leotard making him look like a deranged Maria in some high school production of West Side Story. “You keep bumping into me. You know how easily I bruise.” Noah reached out a hand and pulled at a nipple, letting the black spandex snap back against Aiden‟s skin. “Please,” he said, his tone mocking. “You‟re no more delicate than a freight train.” When Aiden brought a hand to his chest and opened his mouth to protest, Noah continued, “You seem to forget that you used to live with me after… what was his name? The guy you dumped? The one you said was far too vanilla in bed?” “Claus,” Aiden said, his eyes closing as he shook his head. “Those were the longest three months of my life.” 60

A Still, Small Voice “Then why did you move in with him after only going out with him for two?” Noah asked while Aiden sashayed over to the small table that held his Pom Wonderful. “Because, cara, sometimes we must face our fears and do what we believe to be right, even when the world seems intent on telling us otherwise.” Aiden took a few tiny sips and then picked up the towel, dabbing gently at his neck and cleavage. “Right, I keep forgetting sometimes that you‟re really the Dalai Lama with a more finely tuned sense of… how did you put it? A more finely tuned sense of universal responsibility.” “I do what I can for the greater good.” Aiden took one final sip from his bottle and returned to stand beside Noah. “Well, your greater good usually came at the sounds of you begging for Claus to fuck you harder.” Noah could no longer school his smile; he let it escape. “Oh,” Noah said breathlessly in imitation of the sounds he‟d heard too many times to count, “yes, Kevin, Steve, Roger, Lee, Mark, Tommy, yes! Slap it, yeah, fuck me harder.” Noah stopped when he noticed Aiden had that look, the one that meant he felt wronged. “You make it sound as if I had more than one man in there at a time.” Aiden picked at some imaginary lint or speck on his leotard. “You know I tell you these things in confidence, not so you can use them to make me the punch line of one of your rants.” “The point is that with those eternally gymnastic evenings—and days and mornings—I don‟t ever remember seeing a bruise.” “Kimonos can hide a plethora of the previous evening‟s excesses, sweetie.” “I‟m sure they would have,” Noah said, folding his arms over his chest, “if you‟d ever actually worn one.” “Are you saying I should have been ashamed of my body?” “No, I‟m telling you to quit trying to make me feel guilty for bumping into you.” 61

D.W. Marchwell “I accept your apology,” Aiden stated as his hands moved to adjust his bandana. “Now, shall we?” Noah didn‟t bother saying anything further, figuring the sooner they finished, the sooner Aiden would leave and the sooner Noah would be alone and free to take another hot shower and retreat to the comfort and safety of his bed. He forced himself to concentrate harder, spurred to perfection for the next sixty minutes in order to have this day, and this week, behind him. He had two days in front of him to do nothing but sleep all day and do his usual Saturday appearance at the club. They were rehearsing in Noah‟s spare bedroom, the green masking tape on the floor delineating an area roughly the same size as the little stage at the club. Noah spoke the words to the new song that they would debut tomorrow night. He never sang while rehearsing with Aiden, preferring instead not to tax his voice and to concentrate on getting the steps perfect so that he was familiar enough with them that he could then let his mind focus on the song. This time, as he pronounced the word that fell on the lowest note in the piece, leading to a scale that would take him almost three octaves upward, Noah avoided Aiden and hit his mark. He reached out his hand and found Aiden‟s waiting for him, just as had been choreographed. As he began the count that symbolized the ascending scale toward the high note, he and Aiden swung their interlaced fingers and faced each other, swung their hands again and faced the audience of four large full-length mirrors. When they performed, the mirrors would become actual live people who‟d come to see their show. Noah reached the highest note, and he and Aiden faced each other again, and he imagined the last chord in his brain, the last chord that would signal the end of that song. “I‟m always so amazed that you can do that,” Aiden said as he rolled his head in a circle, as if he‟d actually done some work. “That‟s not the line,” Noah said as he released Aiden‟s hand and raised an eyebrow. “Hey, I didn‟t make the rule about not breaking character during rehearsals.” 62

A Still, Small Voice “I only made that rule because you never seem to know your lines.” Aiden reached up with one hand and swiped the bandana off of his head. “But if it will make you happy.” Aiden took Noah‟s hand in his, and they both turned to face the mirror and the imagined sound of applause. “Well, I see why you got married, then. Who wouldn‟t want to lose the last name of Stat? Especially since your parents named you Mauna.” Aiden paused, as if he were actually hearing the laughter, and delivered his final line, the one that would end the show: “What I don‟t understand is why you chose to marry a urologist.” When they‟d decided to create a new act together almost six years ago, Noah had needed any source of income possible, so he‟d foolishly agreed to allow Aiden to choose his new drag name. Gone were Demi Vox and Mary Estes, replaced by two new personae. And what brilliant and agreeable moniker had Aiden come up with? “Mauna Stat” was what Aiden had chosen for him. Noah had chosen a much more beautiful and appropriate name for Aiden, a drag name that incorporated all aspects of Aiden‟s personality: Felicity Harridan. “Happy Bitch” was what some of the more educated in their audience had come to call Aiden‟s alter ego. But Noah? He was a walking advertisement for feminine hygiene. Noah still wasn‟t sure the bit would go over as well as Aiden thought it would. The last ten minutes centered around Noah‟s drag name. Noah figured it was a waste of time and other greater one-liners to go out on a gag that took so long to set up, incorporated the Cole Porter song “Love for Sale,” and ended with such an obvious—if not offensive—reference to yeast infections and feminine itch. But then, Noah had often been wrong about what the audience found funny. Sure, there were times when the audience was a little classier than the usual crowd, but they were few and far between. So Noah let Aiden make the decisions about dialogue and Noah kept up his end of the duo by singing. “Okay,” Aiden announced when they‟d finished their curtseying. “Remember to be there early enough tomorrow night so that we can run one quick rehearsal for the sound check.” Aiden pulled on his sweatpants and then bent to pick up the purple bandana from where 63

D.W. Marchwell he‟d tossed it on the floor moments before. Ensuring that everything was stuffed into his duffle bag, he pulled on his hoodie and headed for the front door. “By the way,” Aiden said, his voice low and mysterious. “Just before Oscar and I parted ways yesterday, he was asking about you.” “Hmm,” Noah grunted and forced a fake smile. “It would appear you‟ve piqued his curiosity.” “Hmm.” Noah repeated himself and refused to allow himself to be engaged. “It would do you some good, you know, schatzie… to get out there, learn to trust someone.” Aiden turned the deadbolt and then reached for the handle, yanking open the door. “It‟s been six years since that fuckwad broke your heart. And Oscar is nothing like Paul.” Noah couldn‟t see what had Aiden suddenly gasping and swearing. “Fucking hell!” Aiden bellowed. “The one time I say his name and he shows up, just like that… like a cold sore.” Aiden turned back to stare in horror at his friend. “Who knew my grandmother was right? First about never trusting a man to do the right thing, and now about never speaking the name of someone you don‟t want to appear right away.” Noah took hold of the door and pulled it open. Paul was standing there, his expression seeming to fall somewhere between shocked and irate. Noah felt Aiden staring at him, so he turned to look at his best friend, squaring his shoulders and waiting for the tantrum. “You‟re seeing him again?” Aiden‟s expression was full of loathing, but for whom, precisely, Noah wasn‟t sure. “No,” Noah said as he pointed over his shoulder. “Paul just bought the unit down the hall.” “Well,” Aiden huffed as he pointedly ignored Paul and stepped past him. “There goes the gayborhood!” Aiden turned back to Noah. “Close the door in his face and tell him to go back to schtupping that chick he chose over you.” Aiden leaned forward and placed a quick

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A Still, Small Voice kiss on Noah‟s cheek, looked back briefly at Paul, and then turned back to offer a smile to Noah. It wasn‟t a surprise that Aiden and Paul had not even greeted each other yet. They despised each other with an intensity that made Bette and Joan‟s little tiffs seem almost amateurish. When Aiden exited, Noah crossed his arms over his chest and moved the few feet to stand directly in front of Paul, both men watching Aiden put his sunglasses on as he glided down the hall to the exit. “I know you‟re still pissed, but I need a favor.” Paul was doing that strange circling thing with his hands again. “A favor?” Noah stared at Paul, wondering what in the hell he could possibly want. “Cherie did contact her lawyer and is trying to limit my visitation because of emotional harm and sexual behavior.” “What‟s the favor, Paul?” Noah didn‟t really want to hear the reasons or the accompanying explanations. All he wanted to do was go have a shower and go to bed. “I told my lawyer about the incident in the hall, and he asked me to ask you if you would be willing to testify to what you saw and heard.” Noah felt his mouth drop open. “Are you kidding me?” Noah shook his head, willing himself not to laugh in Paul‟s face. “You don‟t need me as a witness, or whatever. If this lawyer has any brains, he should be more than capable of discrediting Cherie. I mean, she‟s not terribly bright, and all he‟ll have to do is meet her to see that she‟s more than willing to dig her own grave.” “He‟s met her, sure, but he would like another credible witness. Someone who isn‟t involved or too close to any of this.” Paul stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Cherie is apparently saying that I‟m sleeping with you again.” “Fine,” Noah said, relenting while despising the whole situation. “Tell your lawyer to call me.”

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D.W. Marchwell “Thanks,” Paul said, his shoulders visibly relaxing. “Wait… I don‟t have your number.” All sorts of thoughts hit Noah at once. If I just hand my number over to Paul, who’s to say he won’t use it instead of leaving me alone. I don’t trust him enough to have dinner with him, but now I’m supposed to give him my phone number? Maybe he’s changed; maybe he’ll listen when I tell him never to use it. “Write his number out and slip it under my door. I‟ll call him.” “Wow,” Paul said, his eyes sad and dejected. “You really do hate me, don‟t you? You don‟t even trust me with your phone number?” “Paul,” Noah said, tired and weary, “I don‟t have the energy to keep doing this over and over. What do you want from me?” Noah felt mere moments away from telling Paul the truth, that he‟d never stopped loving him, that he‟d thought of him often. He‟d tortured himself for years now, trying not to imagine Paul on the sofa, his hands caressing that witch‟s black hair, trying not to imagine Paul happy with that abominable woman, the two of them laughing during intimate shared moments. How could he ever tell Paul what those long, seemingly endless moments had felt like? The moments when Noah honestly thought he was going completely insane trying to ignore the fact that Paul was doing with her what he‟d done with him? Did he like to cuddle with her after sex? Did he talk about the softness of her skin as he‟d done with Noah? Was Paul as attentive a lover with Cherie as he had been with Noah? “I could lose my son, Noah.” Noah looked at the heartbreak that was quite plain on Paul‟s face. Regardless of what Noah might think of Paul, he knew what it felt like to grow up with one absent parent and the other running himself into an early grave trying to be everything to his son. Noah‟s mother had abandoned them when he was only four years old, after which time Noah‟s father had not only never remarried but had spent every possible moment ensuring that Noah knew how much he was loved. As he looked into Paul‟s eyes, wanting nothing more than to make it all better for his ex-lover, Noah knew that his childhood 66

A Still, Small Voice experiences weren‟t precisely the same, but they were similar enough that Noah didn‟t have the heart to say no. Noah had never really known his mother, and there‟d never been a battle over his custody. Paul‟s son would be a pawn to a mother who was clearly unbalanced, and could end up losing the only parent who actually seemed to care about him. Noah felt his shoulders sag a little, and he turned to the table beside him, writing out his cell phone number on the little pad of paper and handing it over to Paul. “For your lawyer only. Any calls from you get deleted without hesitation.” “Fair enough,” Paul said as he held up the piece of paper. “Thank you, Noah.” “Don‟t thank me. I‟m doing it for your son.” “I seem to keep accumulating debts to you.” Paul‟s fingers folded and unfolded the piece of paper in his hands. “Please tell me there‟s something I can do to make it up to you.” “There is,” Noah said. “Be a better father than you were a friend.” Noah closed the door to his apartment and turned the lock and fastened the chain, not staying this time to listen to the retreating footsteps and subsequent shutting of Paul‟s door. He went to the spare bedroom and cleaned up the room, putting chairs and makeshift props away before heading to the bathroom to start filling the tub. Noah couldn‟t honestly remember being so bone-tired; even during those few harrowing months following his arrest, he‟d not felt this conflicted, this exhausted. He stripped off his clothes and padded back into the bathroom, adding a few drops of vanilla bubble bath, a present he‟d received from Aiden on his last birthday. He would have to remember to thank Aiden tomorrow for not having done—or said—what he‟d probably wanted to upon discovering Paul on the other side of the door. He knew Aiden wasn‟t a bad person. Of course Noah knew that. How could you be a bad person when you spent an entire week camping out at your friend‟s apartment? Noah stepped into the tub, sinking into the hot water and letting himself remember how Aiden had 67

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come galloping to his rescue. Noah had discovered that Paul was fucking some woman—or maybe even women for all he knew—and had tried to deal with it all on his own. And failed miserably. … “Good for you, pookie!” Aiden said before licking his spoon clean. “You said nothing, let him leave here with his delusions still unmolested.” Aiden used his spoon to dig another trench around the edge of the small container of ice cream. “Honestly, what did he think would happen? Did he think you would just throw up your hands and say, „Of course I‟ll let you fuck whomever you wish. As long as I have you in my life, how could I possibly ever want someone who sees me as a worthy of fidelity and trust?‟” “You don‟t really need to stay, Aiden,” Noah said, feeling guilty again for burdening Aiden with all of this drama. It was two weeks after Thanksgiving, and when Noah found he couldn‟t seem to stop crying, or sleep, he‟d thought it best to ask Aiden for help. And as usual, his best friend was there for him. Noah pointed over to the bags. “If you‟re insisting on staying, you‟ll probably have to sleep with me, since this sofa isn‟t very comfortable. It‟ll probably make your back worse.” “You‟re so sweet to be thinking of me at a time like this. I accept.” Aiden finished licking his spoon clean and pointed it at Noah. “But if I feel anything bigger than a feather against my derriere….” Noah actually laughed at that. There had never been anything even remotely sexual between them. He‟d had the impression back in university that Aiden might have wanted more, but he could never really be sure about that. Aiden had never tried anything overt, but the evidence was more in the words and gestures. Of course, after getting to know Aiden better, he‟d realized that his friend was one of those notorious flirts to whom everything was sexual innuendo, bawdy and otherwise. “I promise nothing shall befall the ethereal and enigmatic Felicity Harridan.” Noah was referring to Aiden‟s drag name du jour. Noah had

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chosen it before Aiden had chosen the one Noah eventually received, and thought the description of “Happy Bitch” was incredibly spot on. “Eat your ice cream, Mauna,” Aiden said with a smile. “Nothing cures a broken heart like a little Ben & Jerry‟s.” Noah took hold of his spoon and dug into his Chocolate Fudge Brownie, feeling a little better. Since he wasn‟t teaching anymore, Noah would have the time to pursue anything and everything that interested him. Noah was basically free to pursue his interest in photography when he wouldn‟t be in school, and Paul was quickly becoming just another bump in the road of Noah‟s pothole-riddled love life. Aiden had said earlier in the evening that there would come a day when Noah would look back on all of this and wonder what the hell he‟d been thinking. And Noah clung to that thought, that hope, with more determination than he‟d ever clung to anything before.

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Chapter Seven

“WELL, they weren‟t working an hour ago, so you‟ll have to forgive me for not just taking your word for it.” Aiden fixed Greg, the beleaguered gofer whose name Noah had given to Aiden at least a dozen times, with a mighty stare and offered a quick wave. “Go, now. I‟ll be there in a minute to see if you‟re still fucking it up.” It was the night of the big debut for the new material, and Aiden, as usual, was rapidly progressing past diva mode and into outright bitchiness. Luckily, he only got this way once or twice a year, whenever they changed the act a little. Noah made sure that the changes were always minor due to what he‟d begun to refer to as The Towering Inferno of 2007. It had been Aiden‟s idea to make all of the changes to the show, assuring everyone and anyone that he would be fine. Of course, he had almost come completely unhinged, and the debut had had to be postponed for over a month. Oscar and Noah looked over at their—normally—calm and composed friend. “Aiden, why don‟t I get you something to drink, like, say a vodka martini with a ketamine chaser?” “I will not apologize for trying to maintain some sort of integrity to this show.” Aiden waved one hand at the door while using the other to finish applying his mascara. “That little twink is going to give me palpitations if he doesn‟t start paying attention. And I do not look good in hospital gowns.” “But just think,” Noah announced as he slicked his hair back with gel and applied the base coat of makeup that would hide the splotchy 70

A Still, Small Voice dark shadows of his beard. “You‟ll meet doctors!” Noah laughed and looked over at Oscar, who wore an equally amused expression. Noah couldn‟t think of anything to say to Oscar. Without Aiden‟s easy charm, Noah felt immediately awkward and out of sorts. “Well, I‟ll leave you to it.” “Oscar? Could I ask a favor?” Noah reached down to his black leather backpack and fished out his camera case. “Anything,” Oscar said, his face serious. He came over to sit beside Noah, and in the bright, harsh light of the makeup mirror, Noah could see that Oscar had the most incredible skin. It was flawless, the dark shadow of a beard forming along and under the square jaw. Noah forgot what he was going to say and then felt the camera in his hand. He‟d never noticed until now that Oscar‟s eyes weren‟t green at all but more of a turquoise color. “I was thinking of having new posters made,” Noah said as he hoisted the camera case and quickly opened it. “And I was hoping that I could impose upon you to take a few shots tonight. You know, of the new show.” “Of course,” Oscar said, nodding his head and reaching for the camera. “I was going to get a Nikon, but then I finally chose the Canon because it seemed a little easier to find the kinds of accessories I need for doing nature studies.” “You like photography?” Noah wasn‟t sure why he was so surprised. Photography seemed like the perfect hobby for someone so patient and introverted. “Marcus got me interested in it when we were in high school.” Noah thought of Marcus, who, along with Oscar, his husband, had owned and run the bar. Everyone had been completely stunned to learn of Marcus‟s death following routine knee surgery. Noah had never known much about them other than that they always seemed to be happiest when the other was in the same room. They were drawn to each other like magnets, like they each supplied something vital and

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life-sustaining to the other, something that neither could survive without for more than ten minutes. “I‟m quite partial to nature studies.” “Really?” Noah swiped the blood-red lipstick over his lips quickly and mashed them together. “I guess I can see that about you. You seem like a person who loves nature and peace and quiet.” “What about you?” “I really like those rare shots of an animal skittering away at the slightest noise or of a butterfly in flight or a field full of horses and colts.” Noah checked his face one more time in the mirror and stood, pulling the tuxedo jacket from the back of his chair. “I‟m still not very good, but I do find it very relaxing.” Noah heard Aiden‟s voice just outside the makeshift dressing room and found he was annoyed at the interruption; he was enjoying his discussion with Oscar. “I‟ll leave you to it, then,” Oscar said, repeating himself. Noah opened his mouth, wanting to say something, anything, that would ensure a follow-up conversation, but his mind was a complete blank. He watched as Oscar pulled open the door and exited, the empty doorframe filled quickly with Aiden‟s big hair and heavy makeup, highlighting what Noah had long ago come to recognize as his pissedoff face. “If you don‟t calm down soon, you‟re not going to be any good to me, and then I‟ll have to do the whole show myself.” “Please,” Aiden grunted, “like you have any comedic timing at all.” Noah smiled to himself. He loved that Aiden was so predictable, loved that all it would ever take was threatening him with the loss of the attention he thrived on. He stood in the doorway, fixing his tuxedo jacket, admiring his Marlene Dietrich-esque appearance and making sure everything was in place, glancing up now and then to see Aiden taking deep breaths.

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A Still, Small Voice “Okay, I‟m calm and I‟m becoming Felicity. I‟m finding her sense of humor, her walk, her talk.” Noah found himself tuning out, his attention more drawn to the sight of Oscar standing in his office, his back to Noah and Aiden. Noah suddenly found himself quite mesmerized by the broad back, the beautiful contours of his bubble butt and the way all of his muscles seemed to be engaged as he stood at the filing cabinet, searching for something. Noah finally turned away when Oscar bent at the waist to retrieve something in a bottom drawer. His costume was a little too snug as it was; he didn‟t need to be thinking about that ass without clothing at that moment. He couldn‟t really remember the last time he‟d felt this energized.

“THAT was really something.” Noah and Aiden both looked up at the same time. Oscar was standing there, camera around his neck, his smile broad and genuine. “Thank you, Oscar,” Noah said, returning the smile. Had his teeth always been so white and perfect? “I think there might still be some men screaming for more Felicity,” Oscar said, laughing as he took the strap of the camera and pulled it over his head. Noah looked up when he noticed Aiden practically jump out of his chair and head for the door. “They were sitting near—” “Oh, I‟ll find them,” Aiden yelled, disappearing a cloud of Aquanet and Chanel No. 5. “As if we ever doubted that,” Noah said, removing his shirt and unfastening the uncomfortable corset that had been Aiden‟s idea. I was thinking Marlene Dietrich, Aiden had announced one day. If Noah had known that he‟d have to sing in one of these things—all for the sake of appearing curvier—he would have told Aiden exactly what to do with the corset. 73

D.W. Marchwell “Uh, here‟s your camera.” Oscar wasn‟t looking at him, and Noah found it to be incredibly endearing. “If you tell me where your case is, I‟ll—” “Oh, sorry. It‟s right here.” Noah moved to his backpack on the floor and pulled out his aluminum case and handed it to Oscar. He moved forward to stand in front of Oscar, noticing that Oscar still wasn‟t looking up. Noah grabbed his sweatshirt from the back of his chair and pulled it on quickly, his head poking through the hole just in time for him to notice Oscar stealing a glance, his hands still juggling camera and case. Oscar finally looked up. “Thank you. I really enjoyed the new stuff.” “Thank you, Oscar.” Noah moved a little closer, taking and opening the aluminum case. He was close enough to realize that Oscar was actually an inch or two taller than he, close enough to see the slight tremor in Oscar‟s hands as he fitted the camera back into the foam lining. “You‟ve been really great to us. You and Marcus both.” “Marcus just loved to listen to the two of you on stage.” Oscar smiled at the memories that only he was experiencing. “He thought you guys were the next Sonny and Cher. Except that you weren‟t sleeping together.” Noah raised his eyebrows at that thought. “Thank God for that small mercy, I guess.” Noah laughed and was relieved to hear Oscar do the same. “So,” Noah said, closing the case and depositing it on the chair seat behind him. “How do you think they turned out?” “I used manual and automatic shutter, as well as zoom.” Oscar put his hands into his back pockets, and Noah found his gaze transfixed by the sight of the crisp white cotton shirt stretched over well-defined pecs. Noah‟s thoughts were focused on whether Oscar had a smooth or hairy chest; he hoped the latter. He tuned back in, forcing his eyes up to Oscar‟s. “Let me know if there‟s any in there that you want to use, and I‟ll get the posters made up for the club and our advertising.”

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A Still, Small Voice “That would be wonderful, but it was my idea, so I don‟t mind paying for the processing. I don‟t want you to have any additional expenses just because of me.” Noah suddenly felt guilty for making Oscar think he would have to pay for all of this new publicity. “We‟re actually doing quite well now.” Oscar offered a smile and looked somewhere to the left of Noah‟s face. “Must be people are hearing about the incredible comic act with the world-class singing.” Noah actually blushed. He could feel the heat creeping up his neck, into his cheeks, and settle in his ears. “Well, thank you, but just the same, I don‟t want to be the reason anything changes.” “We can fight about it later,” Oscar said as he reached out and let his hand rest on Noah‟s forearm for a couple of seconds. The heat coursing through Noah‟s body intensified, and he felt a shiver of arousal at the contact. But then the hand was gone and Oscar was moving away, toward the door. “Have you ever been out to the High Level Bridge to see the waterfall at night?” Noah said the words quickly, not really sure he‟d understood them all. “It‟s really quite breathtaking, and I was thinking that maybe we could grab some dinner—my treat—and then take our cameras and—” Noah forced himself to stop talking, berating himself for sounding so desperate. “I know you won‟t believe this,” Oscar said as he made his way back toward where Noah stood, “but except for pictures, I‟ve never seen the waterfall.” “Really?” Noah did find it hard to believe, but maybe Oscar didn‟t live anywhere near the bridge. “Well, then, when you say yes, I‟ll not only show you the waterfall but one of the best diners you‟ll ever eat in.” Oscar‟s smile grew slowly, becoming that easy grin Noah was beginning to find too infectious for his own good. But he didn‟t care at that moment; all he wanted was to hear one word. “Will you let me drive?”

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D.W. Marchwell “I can‟t let you drive if it means you‟ll have to go too far out of your way to pick me up, but I‟d be happy to meet you there.” “Where do you live?” “Near the intersection of 109 and Jasper.” “In that case, I‟ll tell you what we‟ll do.” Oscar reached into his back pocket and took out his cell phone. “I‟ll drive down, park at your place, and then we can walk.” Oscar opened his cell phone and pushed a couple of buttons. “May I have your number? Or would you prefer to have mine?” Noah supplied the number without hesitation. Oscar punched at the screen of his phone and then closed it. “I‟ll make sure I call you tonight so you‟ll have my number… just in case you need to cancel.” That is so not going to happen, Noah thought, then realized that neither of them had mentioned a date. “Are you free tomorrow afternoon?” “I am now,” Oscar said, and Noah was a little stunned at how flirty this shy man had become. “I‟ll call,” Oscar repeated as he held up his cell phone. I’ll check it as soon as I get home. Noah never brought his cell phone to the club; he didn‟t want to take the chance of it being stolen while he was on stage. With a slow smile and a nod, Oscar left the room, leaving Noah stunned but more excited than he‟d felt in a very long time. Noah was so excited that he almost forgot to say good-bye to Aiden, whom he found, unsurprisingly, sitting with a group of middleaged, well-dressed men, laughing and flirting as if there would be no tomorrow. Noah threw his backpack over his shoulder, folded his garment bag over his arm, and walked over to where they were sitting, kissing his best friend on the cheek, and after accepting the congratulations of the men and declining drinks from two of them, he headed out into the cool night air. 76


NOAH knew that his day had been going far too perfectly for it to last as long as it had. When he walked through the door, he checked his cell phone and found two messages. The first was from someone called Duncan McLaughlin, whom Noah assumed would turn out to be Paul‟s lawyer. And the second was from someone called Shirley Gardiner. He toed off his shoes, threw his garment bag and camera case on the bench beside the foyer table, and headed for the kitchen, punching the button to listen to the first message. Noah had been correct in his assumption that the first call was from Paul‟s lawyer. It would seem that Mr. McLaughlin not only wanted to depose Noah as soon as possible but that Mr. McLaughlin also wanted to warn him that he would probably be getting a phone call from a Ms. Shirley Gardiner, attorney for the plaintiff. Noah didn‟t bother listening to the second message since Mr. McLaughlin had told him not to, or, more precisely, not to listen to it yet. His exact words? “Call her after you‟ve called me so I can tell you what to expect.” Whatever. Noah sighed, trying to get his good mood back. He didn‟t have to try very hard. All he had to do was think of Oscar. “I am now.” Who would have ever thought that Oscar—shy, timid Oscar— could be such a flirt? And a really good one at that. He checked the time, saw it was far too late to call back, even though Mr. McLaughlin had said to call at any time to arrange a meeting, turned off his cell phone, and headed to the bathroom to draw a nice, hot bath. He was going to be fully rested for his date with Oscar. At least, he hoped Oscar knew it was a date. As he undressed and stepped into the bath, Noah decided that I am now certainly meant that Oscar knew Noah‟s intentions. With that settled in his mind, Noah let his body relax and enjoyed the hot water, his muscles releasing all of their tension. He closed his eyes and pictured Oscar‟s smile, his hands, the cotton shirt stretched over the muscles of his chest. Noah could almost feel what it would be like to be 77

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held in those toned arms, what it would be like to listen to that sweet voice whispering in his ear as they lay holding each other. His hand moved to stroke slowly over his own dick, feeling it harden as he contemplated what Oscar‟s body would feel like on top of his own, how his skin would heat up as he experienced the sensations that kissing those swollen lips would certainly bring. Noah parted his thighs involuntarily, imagining their sweat-soaked skin slipping and sliding as they writhed together on cool, clean sheets. As his breathing grew faster, his lungs trying to get more oxygen, Noah drew his other hand down to cup and fondle his own balls. He imagined Oscar‟s legs wrapped around his waist, their eyes focused intently on each other as Noah entered him slowly, pulling out and pushing back in over and over until the sensations compelled Noah to move faster and more forcefully. He would find that bundle of nerves that would drive Oscar crazy with desire, causing the shy man‟s eyes to roll back in his head. Noah would lean forward; their tongues would find each other, flicking and laving, every inch of their bodies overloaded with sensation. And then would come Noah‟s favorite part. After they climaxed, their bodies sated and their breathing returning to normal, Noah would roll them onto their sides, their bodies making contact from lips to feet. And they would fall asleep like that, wrapped up in each other, nothing else existing for either of them until morning. The thought of spending the night wrapped in Oscar‟s arms had Noah‟s balls pulling up, his hand moving over his prick faster and faster until he felt himself let go. He rode out his orgasm, his body feeling as if it were on fire. His hand stilled, he slumped back against the porcelain of the tub, and he inhaled deeply. There was no doubt that Noah would be sleeping very well tonight. He pulled the shower curtain closed, rinsed himself off thoroughly, and took a few moments to clean the tub before going to the sink to brush his teeth. Heading for his comfortable bed, Noah tried to think of some sort of little present to give Oscar at the end of their first date. He would keep it in the loft or in his backpack and slip it out 78


if everything went as well as he hoped. Maybe he would give Oscar one of those stick-anywhere tripods that he‟d seen online the other day. He could even get one for himself. Noah sat on the edge of the bed, reached out to set his alarm so that he could venture out tomorrow and get Oscar‟s surprise gift, and then crawled between the cool sheets. He closed his eyes and settled his head against the pillow, his mind still thinking about all the little things he‟d begun to notice about Oscar. He was so lost in his fantasies of the handsome club owner that he wouldn‟t realize until morning that he‟d barely given any thought at all to Paul for almost a full twenty-four hours. And that revelation would make Noah smile.

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Chapter Eight

NOAH took back his credit card, stuffed it in his wallet, took the small plastic bag, and offered the helpful young woman a smile. He‟d awoken sometime just before seven this morning, his thoughts having gone immediately to the plans he‟d made last night, just before falling asleep. He exited the small photography shop on 110th and steered himself back to his loft, the only thing preventing him from enjoying the rush of those feelings that came with meeting someone new being the call he would have to make when he finally got there. Noah‟s experiences with lawyers were six years old, but they were still fresh enough to give him that sick feeling in the pit of his stomach when he thought of sitting in some austere, sterile office. He still had very clear recollections of sitting in his lawyer‟s office wondering about all of the other people for whom such an office had represented an ending of sorts. How many of those people had been able to put all of it behind them and start anew? And for how many of the others had such an office represented the end of everything they‟d once dreamed? Even though meeting with the lawyer had been nothing more than a formality to ensure that all the necessary papers were signed and that Noah would have official copies of all the documents that exonerated him of any and all charges, he‟d felt the overwhelming oppression of the spacious room. Turning the corner, he saw his building, his excitement returning a little bit more when he imagined bringing Oscar here for the first time. He wondered where Oscar lived, whether he‟d moved after Marcus had passed away so unexpectedly, whether Oscar was fond of 80


traditional and overstuffed or minimalist and sleek. Since their conversation about photography the previous night, Noah‟s mind had conjured images of the tall brick walls of his loft eventually being covered with framed stills that he and Oscar would select from their day-long trips driving around the province. And maybe even the country. Noah chastised himself playfully for getting too far ahead, but he couldn‟t help it. For some reason, he found that he couldn‟t stop thinking about Oscar, about being with Oscar. He‟d had more than enough experience with psychology to know that he could just be latching onto the shy and gentle man as a way of coping with the reappearance of Paul. Maybe he was, he admitted to himself as he unlocked the front door to the building and headed up the concrete stairs to his door. “Noah?” He turned to see Paul locking the door to his own loft. “Did you get the call from Duncan?” “Yes, I did. I was just going to call him back right now.” “Oh, okay, good… good.” Noah noticed that Paul didn‟t seem to know what to do with his hands. Noah smiled, nodded, and then turned to go back to his loft. “Thank you.” Paul‟s voice stopped Noah, and before he could turn back, Noah realized how loud and overbearing that voice seemed to him now. After only a brief conversation with Oscar, Noah had found himself looking forward to hearing more of his unobtrusive and lyrical baritone. Noah nodded again and turned back to his own door, unable to explain the sudden sadness that had invaded his mind. The psychology of the situation was fairly clear, and he recognized that he was probably seeing how sad and dejected Paul had become. Noah had once found him to be charismatic and impossible to forget. But now, because of Oscar, Noah could see that Paul had only ever been just a man. A beautiful, confused man. No different than every other man, Noah supposed as he locked the door behind him and dropped his wallet and keys on the foyer table. 81

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With the cell phone sitting on the counter beside him, Noah opened up the small, shiny bag that contained the tripods he‟d purchased. He wasn‟t really sure whether Oscar would like the yellow or the blue, but something told him he would probably prefer the more subdued color. That decision having been made, and with nothing else on his mind he could use to postpone his involvement in the drama between Paul and Cherie, Noah put the yellow tripod aside and picked up his cell phone to call the lawyer.

NOAH leaned against the counter, his fingers tapping nervously against the plastic tumbler he held in his hands. Oscar had called only five minutes before to explain that he was on his way. Noah had no idea where his new friend lived and therefore had no way of knowing how much longer he would have to wait, his nerves a complete jumble. He put the tumbler down on the counter and went back—again—to check his backpack and to confirm that he had all of his camera supplies. But most importantly, he kept opening the shiny plastic bag that housed the tripod. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but maybe it was completely inappropriate. Noah took it out of the backpack for the fifth time, still unable to choose between taking a chance and playing it safe. After pushing the bag gently back into his backpack, Noah took a deep breath and pushed the button on his cell phone. He‟d pressed that one button at least twenty times in the last five minutes, so convinced that he just hadn‟t heard the ringtone. Zipping up the backpack, then pocketing his cell phone, Noah headed to the door, grabbed his keys, and set out to wait for Oscar outside. The sun was shining, the temperature was reminiscent of early summer, and there was no rain forecast for at least the next week. He parked himself on the concrete retaining wall, inhaling the fragrance of the evergreen trees behind him, and was wringing his hands nervously when he noticed a tan SUV pull up on the opposite side of the street. He peered through the driver-side window and saw Oscar‟s smiling face looking back at him. Noah grabbed his backpack 82

A Still, Small Voice and stood, suddenly realizing he wasn‟t feeling as nervous, the mere thought of knowing he would be spending the next few hours with Oscar having an unexpected calming effect. He watched carefully while Oscar exited the vehicle and waited for the traffic to thin. Noah noticed almost immediately that Oscar wore a faded pair of jeans with sensible hiking boots. His ashen hair was pushed off of his face, catching the sun‟s rays and making Oscar appear younger, sexier. He extended a hand as he approached Noah. Noah took hold of the hand, feeling the warmth immediately. “Any trouble finding the place?” “None,” Oscar said as he shrugged his own backpack farther onto his shoulder. “Shall we?” “Let‟s,” Noah said as he secured his own backpack. They began to walk the half-mile or so to the bridge and toward the diner, neither of them saying too much. But Noah still found the silence comfortable, not feeling the need to entertain or fill the lulls with aimless chatter and small talk. They were each concentrating on navigating the sidewalk with its potholes and narrowed sections due to overhanging trees, Oscar commenting that he‟d never spent much time in this part of town. “How long have you lived in the area?” Oscar asked when they‟d come to a stop at the first intersection. It was only controlled by a stop sign, so they were both darting their eyes up and down the street, checking for an available opportunity to cross. “I used to live up on 111th Avenue but then bought the loft about six years ago.” “You like it in this part of town?” Oscar swiveled his head quickly and then took hold of Noah‟s elbow, exerting a slight pressure as he steered them across the street. Noah found the gesture very sweet, noticing that Oscar kept his hand there for the entire time it took them to cross the intersection. He wondered if Oscar knew he‟d done it or if it was just reflex. “It‟s not as populated with some of the conveniences, like supermarkets and such, 83

D.W. Marchwell but it‟s a really great space, and the neighbors are really great.” And now that he was walking with Oscar, who looked incredible in his faded jeans and sensible hiking boots, he was even feeling magnanimous enough to include Paul as one of those neighbors. “After Marcus passed, I thought about moving back downtown, but….” Noah looked over and resisted the urge to stop Oscar and hug him. “I‟m sorry, Oscar,” Noah offered and waited to see if the shy man would look at him. He didn‟t. “I can‟t imagine what a shock that must have been for you.” “It was that,” Oscar said, nodding his head and finally looking up from the sidewalk. “If it hadn‟t been for the club and our circle of friends, I‟m not sure how I would have survived.” Noah didn‟t really have any other words to offer Oscar, so he only nodded and kept walking. He tried to imagine what it would have been like to have been with the same man for fifteen years only to have a doctor come out, after what was supposed to have been a routine knee surgery, and announce that you would never get to see your husband again, never look into his eyes or hold his hand. It must be absolute agony, that moment when you realize you’ll never share another sunrise, another Christmas, another moment. Never feel his touch while he tells you he loves you. “I‟m sorry,” Oscar said after a moment. “It‟s been almost a year since…. Promised myself I wouldn‟t mention him.” Noah stopped suddenly. “Oscar?” He stood where he was and waited for Oscar to look at him. “I‟d like to hear about him. Truly, I would. I don‟t want you to think you have to…. I‟d like to hear about him.” Noah‟s hand came up to scrub at his forehead. “We knew each other, of course, but I never took the time to really get to know him.” Noah wasn‟t really sure what he was trying to say. “I guess what I‟m trying to say is that I know you loved him very much, and I don‟t want you to think I mind talking about him.” Oscar took a few steps closer, until Noah could feel his own hand pressed lightly to Oscar‟s thigh. Noah stayed rooted to the spot as 84

A Still, Small Voice Oscar leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Noah. You‟re a very good man.” Noah felt the cool wind against his forehead and shoulders and realized he must be sweating. “You‟re welcome,” he said as reached out and squeezed Oscar‟s impressive bicep. “So living in the ‟burbs was Marcus‟s idea, then?” “No, we both agreed that it was time to find a place away from all the late nights of the club. Someplace where we could have a lot more space and some peace from all the noise of downtown.” “That doesn‟t bother me at all,” Noah confessed. “I‟m a very heavy sleeper. Once my head hits the pillow, tornadoes wouldn‟t wake me up.” It was usually true, so Noah decided not to include those very difficult months when he‟d lost so much sleep because of Paul and then again because of the unfounded allegations of sexual misconduct. “Oh, I am too. It was actually Marcus who was a very light sleeper.” They arrived at another intersection, and Noah felt Oscar standing much closer to him this time, and when it came time to cross, Noah felt a twang of disappointment when Oscar didn‟t take his elbow. But that feeling was quickly replaced by a twinge of arousal when the shy man reached out his hand and settled it against the small of Noah‟s back. It took them only twenty minutes to walk to the bridge. They stopped, each of them searching for his own camera, and looked out over the river. The trees were becoming greener every day, and the sounds of rushing water and birds mixed with the traffic, creating a symphony of sounds that always seemed to remind Noah that the world was so much bigger than just his own collection of problems. “Look,” Oscar said, his hand finding Noah‟s forearm. “Over there. Do you see that swarm of merlins?” “Huh?” Noah fixed the strap of his camera around his neck and looked over at Oscar. “The merlins,” Oscar repeated, pointing to the west, Noah assumed at the bank of the river. “The pigeon hawks?” 85

D.W. Marchwell “Oh,” Noah said, too embarrassed to admit he still had no idea what either of those names meant he should be looking for, other than a bird. “You still don‟t know what I‟m talking about, do you?” Oscar was leaning against the railing of the pedestrian path and looking at Noah. “Of course I don‟t,” Noah said and shrugged. “I‟m afraid I‟m not very knowledgeable about birding.” Oscar let go of a melodious laugh that sent shivers up and down Noah‟s spine. He found himself smiling even though he was the unintentional butt of this particular joke. After a moment, Oscar stood slightly behind him and pointed ahead of them, his arm right next to Noah‟s ear. “See right over there, where the river bank juts out a little?” Noah nodded, hearing Oscar‟s hushed tones and feeling the vibrations against the back of his neck. He felt Oscar move closer, his chest lightly touching Noah‟s back. He brought up his camera, ready to take a few pictures—of anything, really—that would be a reminder of this moment, and then Oscar placed his other hand at the waistband of Noah‟s jeans, holding him steady. “I think I saw one with prey,” Oscar said, and Noah closed his eyes instinctively as the vibrations rippled through him once again. “Falco columbarius richardsoni,” Oscar explained as he pulled away from Noah. “The pale blue ones are males, and the females are more of a pale brown color.” Noah finally found the group of birds and began to shoot several pictures. “Aren‟t those falcons?” Noah took several more pictures in rapid succession and looked over when he heard Oscar chuckling to himself. “Sorry,” he said, feeling the heat of embarrassment yet again. “I‟ll just keep my mouth shut.” “No, no,” Oscar protested. “Don‟t do that. Yes, they are falcons. They‟re a species of falcons. This particular species is native to the prairies… Canada and the States.”

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Noah nodded and put his camera back in its case, noticing that Oscar had already stowed his own. “How do you know so much about birds?” “My grandfather was a nature lover.” Oscar looked at his watch. “Shall we?” Noah looked at his own watch and wondered where the last twenty minutes had gone. Securing his case in his backpack, Noah slung the backpack over his shoulder, and the two men resumed their walk to the diner. “Is that where you get your appreciation for nature studies?” “Affirmative,” Oscar said as he nudged Noah‟s shoulder with his own. “I‟m sorry if I made you feel embarrassed.” Noah waved a dismissive hand and offered a sincere smile. “Eh, don‟t worry about it. We all have our special gifts, right?” “Well, you‟re very generous. And I promise the next time I make you feel like that, you should feel free to remind me that I can‟t carry a tune in a bucket.” Noah laughed at that, finding it hard to believe this man would be lacking in anything at all. “I loved what you did with the Cole Porter song last night. It gave me goose bumps.” “Thank you, Oscar.” Noah felt uncomfortable all of a sudden. “Is there a story behind your name? I mean, it‟s not a very common name these days.” “It was my grandfather‟s name.” “I‟m sorry. I didn‟t mean—” “It‟s okay,” Oscar said and reached out, his hand landing on Noah‟s bicep. “I‟ve heard all sorts of jokes. Heard them all, probably. But I don‟t mind, ‟cause it‟s my grandfather‟s name and he was my hero.” They stopped at another intersection, their last, and Noah looked at Oscar. He resisted the urge to reach out and caress those ash-blond 87

D.W. Marchwell strands. “Good for you, then.” When it came time to cross, Oscar‟s hand found its way to the small of Noah‟s back again. “What was he like?” “My grandfather?” Oscar took a deep breath and let it go before speaking again. “I don‟t think there are enough hours in a week to tell you all the stories.” “Okay, how about your favorite? Or your top five favorites, if you can‟t pick just one.” “I must say that I find this a rather odd first-date topic,” Oscar said as they reached the diner, and pulled the door open, letting Noah enter first. Noah looked around and found an empty table near the back. He didn‟t see a hostess anywhere, so he made his way over and stood, his hands spread out in front of him. “Do you have a preference as to seating?” Oscar shook his head and took the seat opposite Noah, both men depositing their backpacks in the empty chairs beside them. “I was hoping you knew that,” Noah said after the waitress came by to provide the menus and fill their water glasses. “What? That this is a first date?” Noah noticed the blush on Oscar‟s cheeks. “I‟m afraid I‟m not very good at this, but even I‟m not that oblivious.” Noah laughed and moved his foot forward so that his lower leg made contact with Oscar‟s. “I would have to disagree, Oscar. I think you‟re very good at this.” Noah wanted to tell him how wonderful it had made him feel to have Oscar‟s hand on his elbow or at the small of his back. He wanted to tell him how alive it had made him feel when Oscar had stood so close behind him on the bridge. But then, Noah had already figured out that Oscar hadn‟t been “doing” anything other than being himself. And for Noah, that piece of insight into this wonderful, shy man opposite made Oscar even more desirable.

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Chapter Nine

THE bright blue, cloudless sky of the afternoon had been replaced as they ate and talked inside the diner. When they finally exited after almost three hours, they looked up into the deep indigo that surrounded them, the tiny pinpoints of light suspended in the sky adding to the romantic atmosphere the two men had been building slowly since they‟d met outside of Noah‟s building. Neither seemed in any rush to get home, their pace as they retraced their route slow and relaxed. They stopped again at the bridge and waited for the waterfall to appear. The waitress at the diner, who had thought the duo to be tourists, had informed them of times and other fun factoids of what to expect from the spectacle, which she told them was nothing more than city tap water being forced through the holes of a specially designed setup of pipes at sidewalk level. Of course, Noah knew all of this, but the waitress seemed to enjoy playing tour guide, so he‟d convinced Oscar to play along. “I won‟t exactly be playing along,” Oscar had said, laughing, his cheeks going pink, “since I didn‟t know any of this.” Oscar and Noah heard the rumbling, and within minutes, they saw the tremendous gush of water that poured out of the pipes near their feet. With the lights that dotted the bridge and the surrounding neighborhoods, the effect was breathtaking. They pulled out their cameras and took as many pictures as they could, Oscar even wondering if there would be some way to get down to the riverbank to take a few shots from a different angle. Since neither of them really knew if it were possible, the idea was shelved, providing them a reason

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for another excursion together. Although Noah would definitely not need any such reason to see Oscar again. Neither of them had been surprised to learn they had much more than photography in common. Noah was fascinated to learn that Oscar was actually a classically trained musician and had even begun to pursue music in university but had switched before his second year, choosing instead to pursue a degree in general sciences. So with that in common, they spent a great deal of time discussing computers and engineering and programming. Oscar was impressed that Noah actually owned a patent on a program that was now widely used in Alberta schools. And for his part, Noah was impressed to learn that Oscar had done all of the computer setup at the club himself. He discovered that Oscar was not only gifted when it came to computers but also with electronics of any kind. Nor had either of them been surprised to learn that the other wasn‟t much into the club scene. Noah frequented Oscar‟s club in order to perform but was never to be found there when he was not on stage with Aiden. “I always wondered if you never stayed because you were rushing home to some lucky guy,” Oscar had said at one point in the evening. It had shocked Noah a little bit to realize that Oscar had noticed him long before Noah had clued in and returned the favor. “Why did you never ask me out, then?” Noah had asked, only to be shocked again when Oscar claimed to be far too shy and afraid of rejection. “I couldn‟t even muster up enough courage to ask Aiden if you were single, so how was I supposed to approach you?” It had all seemed like some kind of a dream to Noah. Here was a beautiful man, not by society‟s standards, maybe, but gorgeous inside and out as far as Noah was concerned, and he was interested in more, just like Noah. While Oscar continued to snap some more pictures, Noah stood looking at him, studying him. There was nothing that Noah didn‟t find sexy or erotic. From the way Oscar‟s jeans fit him without revealing too much to the way his hands played over the lens of the camera, Noah 90


was besotted by it all. Even when Oscar turned to catch Noah staring, he blushed and smiled, and Noah felt his stomach jump into his throat. Noah made up his mind right there; if Oscar made no attempt to kiss him, Noah would try. He had to know what it would feel like, their bodies pressed together, their lips tentative at first but growing bolder and more insistent until…. Noah forced his mind back to other things; his jeans were growing uncomfortably snug. “Shall we?” Oscar asked, and Noah noticed that he‟d put his camera away and was waiting for Noah to do the same. “Sorry, daydreaming, I guess,” Noah said, and he arranged his camera and case and slung his backpack over his shoulder. “I‟ve felt a little distracted myself today.” Noah heard the words, and without any conscious thought on his part, he put his hand out, touching Oscar‟s forearm, and they both stopped walking. They were halfway across the bridge, the sounds of nature and city and rushing water cocooning them. Noah reached up with one trembling hand and let it come to rest against the warm skin of the timid man‟s neck, his eyes focused solely on Oscar‟s. Noah stepped a little closer, his eyes closing when he felt Oscar‟s warm hands find their way to his waist. As they brought their bodies together slowly, Noah felt the first contact of Oscar‟s full lips and heard the whimper escape from his own throat. Noah wondered if Oscar tasted like chocolate and caramel, but forbade his tongue from moving forward and finding its partner. That would have to wait for another time. Noah realized he probably shouldn‟t even have done this, but he‟d been unable to control himself. To have someone like Oscar say those words all afternoon long, and actually mean them…. There would be nothing left of the wall Noah had built around his heart if Oscar continued to sweet-talk him. With great willpower, Noah pulled his lips away but allowed his hands to stay where they were, allowed their bodies to stay connected, unable to separate himself completely from the feel, the smell of this man.

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D.W. Marchwell “I‟m sorry,” Noah said as he felt his breathing return to normal. “I was going to wait until we were back at my place, but….” “May I kiss you again?” This time, Oscar was the first to bring their lips together and the first to push his tongue against lips, seeking entrance. Noah heard whistles and other various noises coming from around them, but he didn‟t care what they looked like. He‟d never imagined he could ever feel this connected to someone. He‟d never felt this with Paul, never felt this with any of the men he‟d been with, and standing there on the bridge, wrapped in Oscar‟s embrace, Noah understood how everything in his life had led him to this moment. He had been looking too hard, wanting it too much. Noah felt like laughing when he realized that the old adage of letting love find you had been right all along. And Noah had no doubt that what he was feeling was love, or at least the beginning of what would grow into love. “Would it scare you away if I told you I‟m not looking forward to going home alone?” Noah was breathing hard. Oscar was breathing hard. Noah couldn‟t seem to wrap his mind around what Oscar was saying. Noah had tried a one-night stand many years ago, when he was in his twenties, but never since; he‟d not liked the experience at all and promised himself that he would have to have some feelings for any man he took to his bed in the future. But he did have feelings for Oscar, very intense and emotionally charged feelings. “Then don‟t,” Noah said finally. “Okay,” Oscar whispered and leaned forward to take Noah‟s lips again. When they pulled apart again, Oscar added, “When Marcus died, I thought I‟d never feel like this again. And then….” Oscar‟s voice held no melancholy or regret, only a desire to let Noah in on the secrets he‟d held for a while. “I hope I‟m not scaring you away.” “Oscar,” Noah said, pulling their bodies together, “I‟m just sorry it took me this long to realize what an ass I was being… not seeing what was there right in front of me all along.” Noah saw the blush spread across Oscar‟s cheeks, wondering if he‟d said too much. 92

A Still, Small Voice “Thank you,” Oscar said finally. “Are you cold? I brought a jacket.” Oscar pulled away slightly, his expression turning to confusion when he saw the smile on Noah‟s face, heard the laughter escape from his mouth. “What?” “The hand at my elbow… on my back… when we were crossing the street. And now your jacket.” Noah shook his head, his hands reaching out to caress Oscar‟s rosy cheeks. “Marcus was a very lucky man.” “We both were, I guess.” “I‟m not teasing you, Oscar. I‟m just….” Noah couldn‟t find the words. “I don‟t think I‟ve ever mattered to anyone enough for them to think about me first.” Noah felt a little guilty, remembering all his father had done for him. “Except my father, I mean.” “Well, now you‟ll have me.” Oscar shrugged off his backpack and rummaged around for his jacket, holding it out to Noah. “What about you? Won‟t you be cold?” Oscar only shook his head as he slung his backpack over his shoulder. “Marcus always used to joke that he married me because he could steal all the covers and I would never know. I‟m very warmblooded, apparently.” “Then, the jacket?” Noah didn‟t understand why Oscar would bring a jacket if he had no intention of wearing it himself. “You told me one time when we were chatting at the club that you have very poor circulation and that it‟s the reason you always wear a jacket of some sort during your performances.” Noah, not surprisingly, had no recollection of any conversation, but its contents were true enough. “Wow,” Noah sighed. “You‟re amazing. I can never remember what I need when I‟m at the grocery store.” “You don‟t write out a list?” The sincerity of the question blindsided Noah, and he bit his tongue so he wouldn‟t laugh in Oscar‟s face again. Instead, he reached 93

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out an arm and worked it around the trim waist, underneath the backpack, giving the man a quick hug. “So, important question, then: do you sleep on the left or the right?” “Actually, I prefer the top.” Noah stopped dead in his tracks, somewhat stunned at the innuendo. Then he found himself wondering if Oscar was telling him he was a top. He opened his mouth to scold playfully, but then Oscar came back to stand next to him. “I apologize. When I‟m feeling comfortable around someone, my humor can be a bit blue.” “No need to apologize, but I feel it only fair to warn you that if you keep that up, I might just have to tear your clothes off right here. And thank you; I feel very comfortable around you too.” Oscar said nothing in return, only reached out and took Noah‟s hand in his as they walked the final few blocks back to the loft. When they arrived, Noah provided a quick tour and then set about assuring that Oscar‟s stay would be comfortable. During the bathroom part of the tour, Noah turned and asked, “Do you need anything? Toothbrush, pajamas, razor?” Noah saw the deep crimson blush and thought he‟d said something, done something wrong. “I brought my own things,” Oscar admitted, his eyes darting back and forth between the floor and Noah‟s face. “Just in case.” “So,” Noah teased as he pressed himself against the warm body, feeling Oscar‟s strong hands going immediately to his back. “You figured I was that easy, huh?” “No, of course not, but—” Noah silenced him with a kiss, which he‟d only meant to let this wonderfully mannered man know that he‟d been teasing. But as they stood there, Noah felt the heat radiating off of Oscar‟s strong body, smelled the intoxicating scent that was probably nothing more than regular soap and something uniquely Oscar, and he found himself horribly lacking in self-control. His hands began to pull on the white button-down shirt, freeing it from Oscar‟s jeans, his hands slipping underneath to feel the smooth, warm flesh of the broad back. 94

A Still, Small Voice “Oh, thank God,” Noah sighed against Oscar‟s lips when he brought his hands around to find the man‟s nipples. “You‟re hairy!” “As are you,” Oscar sighed. Noah had not even been aware that his shirt was unbuttoned and untucked. “Marcus was not. I love hair.” “So do I,” Noah grunted and pressed his lips to Oscar‟s once again. He moved his hands to the waistband and began to unbutton Oscar‟s jeans. Suddenly, Oscar stopped kissing and moved away. “Too fast? I‟m sorry. We don‟t have to—” “No, I want to,” Oscar said, seemingly unable to catch his breath. “I want you. You have no idea how much I want you, but—” Oscar brought up a hand to rake through his hair, and Noah was transfixed by the show of muscles flexing and releasing all along the man‟s chest and abdomen. “I don‟t know quite how to say this. Fuck, I should have told you sooner.” Noah tried not to panic, but this was the first curse word he‟d heard out of the man‟s mouth. In fact, it was the first negative word he‟d heard out of Oscar‟s mouth. “What is it?” Noah tried not to let his mind think of some hideous deformation like a third testicle or a botched circumcision. “I very much like to top,” Oscar started, his fingers interlaced and pivoting at the knuckles like some multi-bladed scissors. “But, well, I‟m quite large, and Marcus always found it to be painful… and… I‟ll understand if you no longer wish to—” Noah moved forward and wrapped his arms around the taller man, kissing him and cutting off his ramblings. When he felt Oscar‟s nerves had calmed somewhat, he pulled away and looked into those beautiful eyes. “Do you bottom?” Oscar shrugged. “If I have to.” “Then there‟s no problem.” Noah returned his hands to Oscar‟s pants and pulled down the zipper, encountering the engorged cock and understanding, perhaps for the first time, what “quite large” actually meant. Noah dropped to his knees and pulled the jeans down, helping Oscar shed them one foot at a time, and then returned his hands to pull 95

D.W. Marchwell on the plain white boxer shorts. Noah looked up to see Oscar‟s nervous stare. He looked back at the erection that had to be at least nine inches long and wider than any man he‟d ever been with. He looked back up at Oscar and pushed the tails of the white button-down out of the way. “It‟s beautiful,” Noah said as he wrapped one hand around the base, his tongue coming out to lick at the vein that ran from frenulum to base. “You must not have any blood anywhere else,” Noah joked and wrapped his lips around the large head, his tongue finding and teasing the slit. “Oh, Noah,” Oscar panted as he leaned against the sink. “It‟s been a long time.” “For me too,” Noah said as he wrapped both hands around the thick member and slowly pulled from base to head. His mouth worked its way to lick and suck the low-hanging balls, his hands increasing their pace ever so slightly. His forearms were braced against the insides of Oscar‟s thighs, and he could feel the muscled legs begin to tremble. He stopped what he was doing long enough to stand and, with one hand still on Oscar‟s sizeable dick, claimed the beautiful man‟s mouth. Their tongues dueled one against the other until Noah finally broke away and whispered, “Sit up here, lift your legs.” When Oscar complied, Noah descended once again to take the pulsing dick in his hands, his mouth laving and sucking the heavy balls. After a moment or two of listening to Oscar‟s sweet panting, Noah pushed on the backs of the trembling thighs and his tongue found Oscar‟s entrance. “Oh, yes, please,” Oscar sighed as Noah licked playfully at his hole. It was the most incredible feeling for Noah to realize that he was giving this man so much pleasure. As his hands continued to pull and tease the engorged cock and massage the sensitive balls, Noah released his mouth from Oscar‟s tight hole every now and then so that he could look up at the handsome face while he moved his hand to the bulbous head, his thumb moving over the slit repeatedly. He found himself in a rhythm of moving back and forth, spurred on by the panting and writhing of this quiet man beneath him. Noah 96

A Still, Small Voice couldn‟t help but notice that even filled with passion, Oscar did not raise his voice or curse or lose control. He was a perfect gentleman. Noah wondered if he‟d found himself the last one on earth. “Like that, baby?” Noah pulled his mouth off the mushroom head and fixed Oscar with a smile. “Can‟t wait until I can take it inside me. Have to work on that… a lot, I think.” “Noah,” Oscar panted and reached for him. Noah went willingly, his hands still pumping the huge cock, and then they were kissing again, Oscar‟s tongue moving wildly. Noah felt his knees go weak when Oscar pushed their heads apart, leaving their tongues dueling and caressing out in the open. It was a different sensation for Noah, and he couldn‟t get enough. He felt Oscar‟s tongue disappear and opened his eyes. “Close, Noah, so close.” “What do you need, baby?” Noah figured that was what Oscar must have needed, because the heat splashed between their bodies, and it seemed endless to Noah. He kissed and licked at whatever flesh he could find, delighting in the sounds of Oscar regaining his composure. “Oh, God, Noah,” Oscar said and brought his hands back to Noah‟s neck, pressing their lips together one final time before he lifted himself off the counter and dropped in front of Noah. “You might be a little disappointed… considering what you see every day, I mean.” Oscar said nothing as he pulled jeans and boxers down at the same time, easing Noah‟s legs out one at a time, just as he‟d done for Oscar. Noah felt Oscar‟s hot breath on his erection. “You‟re not circumcised,” Oscar said, his voice more a whisper. “Marcus wasn‟t either,” he observed as he made one long pull from base to head and immediately took the foreskin in between his lips and began to nibble. “Oh, fuck me,” Noah said, then remembered he should probably not swear since Oscar hadn‟t. How he was going to get through this without cursing, he had no idea. Whether it was Oscar or whether it 97

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was that no one had ever known to do that with his foreskin, Noah didn‟t know, but he did know he didn‟t want it to end. “Your turn,” Oscar said as he pushed Noah toward the counter. Noah felt his cock jump and his balls pull up when he noticed that there was still some of Oscar‟s spunk on the mirror. He positioned himself on the counter and pulled his legs up. “You have low-hangers,” Oscar said as he took each testicle, one at a time, into his mouth. “Holy fuck, Oscar,” Noah yelled when he felt the heat of that mouth. “Jesus, yeah, more.” “Like that?” Noah grunted and pulled on the backs of his thighs when he felt Oscar‟s finger at his hole. He yelled again when Oscar began tapping and poking against the hole. “Do you have any lube in here?” Noah looked over to his right and saw the economy-sized bottle of moisturizer he used in the mornings. He reached for it and put it beside his hips. Then he felt the fire explode up and down his spine, in his brain, his eyes seeing nothing but stars and fireworks as Oscar‟s finger slid inside of him. “So pretty, Noah,” Oscar sighed before Noah felt his entire length swallowed up by the heat of that mouth. With Oscar‟s finger, then fingers, moving slowly in and out of him, Noah had to remind himself to breathe. And when Oscar began to tap against his prostate, Noah felt his muscles clench. He sucked in a breath and then used his hands to pull Oscar‟s head off of his cock. “Oscar, baby, holy fuck!” When he opened his eyes again, Oscar was leaning over him, smiling. And if Noah played his cards right, he could wake up to that every day for the rest of his life.

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Chapter Ten

NOAH stared absentmindedly at the ceiling, his right hand combing gently through the soft hair of the head that lay on his chest. It was just past midnight, and the two men lay exhausted, pressed against each other, having made love after finding their way to the bedroom from the bathroom. Oscar‟s hand lay on Noah‟s stomach, his fingers tracing lazy circles through the patch of hair that led to his belly button. He‟d thought Oscar was asleep, he‟d been so silent. Noah had teased him about how he‟d need to get used to being around someone so quiet. Oscar had just laughed and gone back to stroking his belly. “Can I get you anything? Water, juice, something to eat?” Oscar raised his head slowly, propping himself up on his left elbow and leaving his right arm draped over Noah‟s stomach. Noah thought he looked even more handsome with his hair tousled and his cheeks flushed and his eyes half-lidded like they were. “No, I‟m good.” “What an opening,” Noah teased as he scooted down to lie on his side, face to face with his new boyfriend. “You‟re more than just good, Oscar.” Oscar swatted playfully at Noah‟s chest and smiled. “I don‟t think I‟ve ever blushed so much in my life.” “I think it‟s my favorite look of yours,” Noah said and leaned in for a kiss. He‟d meant it to be a quick, gentle kiss, but he failed. Wrapping his arm around Oscar‟s waist, he pushed himself forward some more until he was able to roll Oscar onto his back, lying atop

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D.W. Marchwell him, his knees pushing in between Oscar‟s long legs. “I‟m so glad you asked to stay.” “Me too,” Oscar said as his hands found their way to caress and stroke the sensitive skin of Noah‟s back. “I was afraid you‟d say no.” “What can I say? I was weak. I was powerless before your charisma,” Noah said and lowered his lips to kiss and nibble at Oscar‟s neck and ears. “Hmmm,” Oscar whispered against Noah‟s ear. “That will come in handy for me, then.” Noah stopped his ministrations to Oscar‟s neck and looked at him. “Anything you want. Anything.” With a swiftness that shouldn‟t have surprised him, Noah found himself flipped onto his back, their positions reversed. He felt the thickening erection align itself with his, his mind dismissing its immediate reaction to how inadequate his cock must seem beside Oscar‟s. “Anything?” Oscar‟s eyes gleamed with mischief and promise. “I really like this side of you, you know.” Noah reached between them and took both cocks into his hand, his hand not quite making it all the way around both. “You name it and I‟ll do it.” Noah stroked once, mesmerized by the look that ghosted over his lover‟s face. “You are so sexy.” “That‟s what I was just thinking,” Oscar said and then opened his eyes, all traces of lust gone. “About you, though, not me.” Noah laughed and put his hand to the back of Oscar‟s neck, pulling him down for another scorching kiss. “I knew what you meant,” he said, laughing, when he pulled his lips from Oscar‟s. “Tell me what you want, baby.” “I want to… work… toward… fucking you.” Oscar blushed again. “I want to be inside you… eventually.” “Can you reach that drawer?” Noah pointed over his shoulder without taking his eyes from Oscar‟s face.

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Oscar said nothing and reached the drawer with ease. Noah schooled his laughter when he saw the blush deepen. “It‟s been a while, but if we use those, I think I‟d love to help you with that particular wish.” Oscar rose to his knees and sat back, one dildo in each hand. “They feel so real,” he whispered as he examined the two sex toys. “I always had to bottom because Marcus couldn‟t relax enough to take me in.” Noah was touched that Oscar had shared that. “Officially, I‟m a top too, but… with you….” Oscar suddenly laughed, his hands landing on his thighs. “Aren‟t we the perfect pair, then.” Oscar lifted both dildos up to chest height and raised his eyebrows. “Which one do we start with?” Noah reached beside him and found the lube just where he‟d left it after he‟d made love to Oscar, still undone when he thought about how hot and tight he‟d felt around Noah‟s dick. Even with a condom on, Noah had never felt anything so incredibly erotic. “Why don‟t we try Oscar Junior there,” Noah said and pointed to the smaller dildo in his lover‟s left hand. “Junior? Is that what we‟ll call it?” Oscar laughed and handed the larger dildo to Noah. “What are we calling that one, then?” “We‟ll worry about that next week… when we‟ll need it.” “You‟re sure you want to do this?” Oscar suddenly looked panicked. Noah scrambled quickly to his knees and wrapped his arms around his lover. “Yes,” he said before kissing Oscar senseless. “Lie on your back,” Oscar groaned when Noah squeezed his hefty erection. “Tell me if I go too far.” Noah did as he was told and lay on his back, his hands behind his knees, breathing in and out and forcing himself to relax. He watched with rapt attention as Oscar slicked the dildo with the lube and kneewalked his way toward Noah, his huge dick swinging between his own 101

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legs. Oscar stretched out on his stomach and began by licking and kissing Noah‟s hole. Noah‟s head fell back against the sheets, his eyes rolling back in his head. He breathed when Oscar reminded him, feeling Oscar‟s big hand come up to settle on his belly, petting and caressing. It seemed to last for hours, the licking and kissing and sucking and probing. Noah was panting like a dog by the time he felt the cool head of the dildo pushing against his entrance. “Wait,” Noah said, gasping. He rolled over and pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, looking behind him as Oscar got to his knees and made his way over. Oscar sat back on his heels while he teased and probed Noah‟s hole with the dildo, his free hand caressing and stroking over Noah‟s back and ass cheeks. “Such a beautiful ass, Noah.” Noah closed his eyes as the head of the dildo pushed past the ring of muscle. Oscar held it there for a moment while he rose so that he was beside Noah, his free arm wrapping around his waist, stroking and petting while he pushed the dildo forward a little more. “Such a beautiful man.” “Oscar,” Noah sighed as he imagined that it was really Oscar impaling him and not the dildo. “Feels so incredible.” “I can‟t wait to be inside you… feel you come while I‟m still inside you.” “Fuck,” Noah hissed and let his forehead fall to his forearms. He felt the dildo easing out of him slowly, and then it was gone completely. “Do you trust me?” Noah felt the emptiness replaced by Oscar‟s fingers. “Yes, yes,” he panted against the sheets. Then, just as suddenly as they‟d appeared, the fingers were gone. He felt the bed bouncing as Oscar got off of it. He looked around him quickly and saw Oscar rifling through his backpack, Noah assumed for Oscar-sized condoms. “Come here, then.”

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A Still, Small Voice Noah felt Oscar‟s warm hand pressing against his chest. When he rose and turned around, Oscar was lying on his back, his hand stroking his enormous latex-sheathed erection. “Lower yourself onto it… as much as you can.” Noah wanted to ask about the plan with the dildo but said nothing as he moved to straddle Oscar‟s slim hips. As if reading his mind, Oscar said, “I was jealous of a dildo.” Noah laughed and felt himself clench. “Don‟t make me laugh!” “Sorry,” Oscar muttered sheepishly. Noah took hold of Oscar‟s cock and pushed the head against his hole. He breathed in and out several times and then lowered himself slowly, his whole body on fire when he felt the head breach his entrance. “Fucking hell, Oscar.” Noah grunted when he felt the bulbous head throbbing inside the condom, inside him. Noah could tell that Oscar was dying to thrust, but he didn‟t. He had his hands on Noah‟s thighs, stroking and caressing until one hand finally encircled Noah‟s erection. Noah felt himself relax even more and lowered himself a little bit more, wondering if he would ever be ready to have that enormous cock pressing against his prostate. He couldn‟t help but imagine that it would be an incredible feeling to have that cock everywhere at once. The thought must have caused Noah to clench. “Oh, Jesus, Noah, that feels so fucking incredible.” So much for not swearing during sex, Noah thought to himself as he continued to move slowly up and down the thick shaft. “I‟m going to come if you keep stroking my dick.” Oscar didn‟t say anything, only increased the pressure he was exerting on Noah‟s cock. “You evil, evil man,” Noah said when he realized that Oscar wanted Noah to come so his muscle would clamp down over the head of his own cock. “Want me to come on your cock?” Oscar didn‟t say anything, just closed his eyes; Noah thought he might have sensed that Noah was close, which he was. 103

D.W. Marchwell “Thumb the slit,” Noah sighed, his orgasm rocketing through him after Oscar began to tease his slit. “Jesus, Noah,” Oscar grunted. Noah looked down to see jets of cum shooting onto Oscar‟s chest, the sight of which he found intensely erotic. He fell forward, his hands braced on Oscar‟s muscular chest, riding out the last few seconds of his orgasm while he moved up and down on Oscar‟s cock, trying to give him as much pleasure as possible. “Do you want to move?” “Don‟t want to hurt you, Noah.” “Move.” Noah grunted as he took even more of Oscar inside him. “If it hurts, I‟ll stop.” Noah felt himself impaled as Oscar worked to get enough friction to orgasm. “Hold still… right there, yeah.” Oscar snapped his hips a little, forcing his cock further into Noah‟s ass. They groaned together as Oscar pulled out a little and then pushed back in gently. “Close, Noah.” Noah gritted his teeth as Oscar thrust in and out a few more times, going a little bit further each time. Noah felt the muscular chest flex under his hands, saw the muscles of Oscar‟s neck tighten. “Love your face when you come, baby.” “Fuck!” Oscar cried out, and Noah felt the throbbing inside of him, felt the heat of Oscar‟s spunk fill the condom. Noah stayed atop the muscled chest until he felt Oscar soften and fall out of him. “How do you feel?” Oscar was stroking his back and neck. “Incredible,” Noah said and looked up into Oscar‟s eyes. “I can‟t believe how much self-control you have. I would have been thrusting to beat the band.” “It would have been great for me, sure, but for you….” Oscar didn‟t finish the sentence, but Noah understood. Noah shook his head and smiled. “You‟re amazing,” he said and leaned in for a kiss.

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A Still, Small Voice “You‟re repeating yourself,” Oscar said as he rolled them on their sides, chuckling when Noah reached down to remove and tie off the condom.

“I

NOTICED during the tour last night that you have a degree in education,” Oscar stated as he sat at the table, waiting for Noah to sit down and eat breakfast.

Noah put the skillet in the sink and filled it with hot water so it would be easier to wash the remains of the bacon and eggs he‟d cooked for their second meal together. “I used to be a teacher,” he said as he sat beside Oscar at the small kitchen table, hoping that he didn‟t sound as uneasy as he felt. “Really?” “In a different lifetime, yes.” “But you work in computers now.” It wasn‟t really a question, and Noah knew that he would eventually have to tell Oscar about why he had left the profession, not to mention why he would be helping his neighbor and former lover. “Yes,” Noah said, pushing his scrambled eggs around his plate, not really hungry for anything but the knowledge that Oscar‟s feelings wouldn‟t change once he learned the truth. He‟d grown used to the feeling that he could just forget about the whole incident, that he would never have to tell anyone because he would never let anyone in again. But then, he had had no way of knowing that he would ever meet someone as wonderful as Oscar. “There‟s a story there,” Noah said, trying for levity. Oscar said nothing at first, only reaching across the small space in between their hands and curling his strong fingers around Noah‟s. “You don‟t need to tell me if you don‟t want to,” Oscar said as he squeezed Noah‟s hand. “I‟m sorry for raising a sensitive subject.”

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Noah felt like crying when he saw the look of understanding and compassion in this gentle man‟s face. “I, uh,” Noah started but then stopped. “There was a girl in one of my math classes… a grade-twelve girl. She had this plan to make it seem as if I‟d raped her.” Noah almost choked on the words. Anger coursed through him again as if he‟d only experienced this event yesterday instead of six years ago. “She stole the keys of another teacher and had her boyfriend… they met each other in one of the maintenance rooms. After, she, uh, told this same teacher that I‟d…. I was arrested and taken out of the school in handcuffs….” Noah felt Oscar‟s other hand move to cup his jaw, his thumb wiping away tears that he didn‟t even know he‟d shed. Still, Oscar said nothing. “Everyone saw me like that and….” “I can‟t imagine what that must have been like.” Oscar took Noah‟s hand in both of his, his touch safe and calming. “Pardon my language, Noah, but they must have had their heads up their asses to think you could do something like that.” “I‟m sure many of them knew I hadn‟t, but there were a few who were hoping I had, I guess.” Noah squeezed Oscar‟s hand and brought his other hand to caress Oscar‟s wrist. “I couldn‟t go back after they exonerated me. I couldn‟t.” Noah looked into Oscar‟s eyes and found solace. He wanted to tell him everything, but he didn‟t really want to talk about all of it anymore. Not the feeling of being in jail, of being fingerprinted, of being labeled as a sex offender. Nor did he want to burden Oscar with the many questions he still had no answers for, like how Paul could have thought him capable of anything like that. He knows I’m gay, Noah thought again, just as he had while in the jail cell and when speaking to Aiden and almost every day since. “They didn‟t deserve you anyway.” Oscar smiled for him, and Noah found himself smiling as well, completely undone by how compassionate his new lover was. “You‟re amazing,” Noah said, feeling the tension that the memory never failed to create in him ease out of his shoulders and stomach.

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A Still, Small Voice “You‟re going to spoil me if you keep telling me that.” Oscar slowly removed his hands and took up his plate and Noah‟s, the cold and congealed food mostly untouched. “How about I do the dishes while you get ready, and then I‟ll take you out for a nice brunch?” “I am feeling rather hungry now,” Noah said, rising from the table and collecting the remaining dishes. “I promise I won‟t spoil brunch.” Noah deposited his items in the sink and turned to Oscar. “How about a nice long, hot shower while these soak?” Oscar laughed and hugged Noah, placing a quick kiss on his lips. “You are spoiling me, you know. You may never get rid of me now.” “Promise?” As the dishes soaked in the sink, Noah and Oscar found themselves in the shower, slick with soap as they washed and discovered even more things about each other. Noah discovered how much Oscar enjoyed having his hair washed and his scalp massaged. Oscar discovered how sensitive the backs of Noah‟s knees were. Most importantly for Noah, he discovered a new use for the strange little bench that had been installed as part of the shower. The hot water tapped its irregular rhythm against Oscar‟s muscular back as he knelt between Noah‟s legs, his lips and tongue exploring and licking, his teeth teasing and nipping every inch of flesh. Oscar had inserted first one, then two fingers and, unlike the water, was keeping a very consistent rhythm of tapping Noah‟s prostate while taking his cock down to the root and then driving Noah crazy with exquisite suction. Noah was reduced to nothing more than grunts and groans while his eyes feasted on the sight of how earnest and attentive his lover was. Even when it came to sex, Noah could see that Oscar would be unerringly sedulous, and that particular thought made Noah want to wrap them up in bed and never leave the loft again. His burgeoning feelings for this man, the feelings of wanting to care for him and protect him, had confused and frightened him at first. But as Oscar explored and brought Noah close to orgasm, Noah knew that he had

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finally found the man he was meant to love. He had no reason to be afraid of that. None at all. “Oscar, now, off,” Noah panted when he recognized that gloriously agonizing feeling zip up and down his spine. He watched Oscar‟s playful eyes look up to his as he pulled off Noah‟s cock, moving to lick and fondle the tight ball sac with his hot tongue. It was all Noah needed, and he yelled out Oscar‟s name as his orgasm ripped through him, his eyes closing instinctively. He rode out wave after wave, Oscar‟s strong hand milking him for all he was worth. When he opened his eyes, he saw the thick milky liquid splattered all over his chest and abdomen, as well as on Oscar‟s face and freshly washed hair. He pulled the quiet man toward him and kissed him soundly, his tongue lapping up his own seed, suddenly overcome with a desire to be everything to this man. Noah stood and turned their bodies so that Oscar would be sitting on the little bench, quieting Oscar‟s protests that they would surely run out of hot water soon by explaining that he‟d timed it once and they had at least twenty minutes left. The grin of satisfaction that his answer brought to Oscar‟s swollen lips sent Noah‟s libido into overdrive. He went slowly at first, his mouth working around the head as one hand fondled and massaged Oscar‟s low-hanging balls and the other probed and prepared his entrance. As he listened to the desire and yearning in Oscar‟s voice, Noah took more and more of the length into his mouth, relaxing the back of his throat. His hands continued their attentions, two fingers working their way past the tight ring of muscle toward Oscar‟s bundle of nerves. When he began to tap it, Oscar‟s hips snapped up and pushed the engorged cock further into Noah‟s mouth. Noah gagged but put a hand on Oscar‟s chest, calming him and stopping the apologies. Noah returned his hand to Oscar‟s sensitive ball sac, finding that it was beginning to pull up. He continued to take a bit more but found he could only manage about three quarters; the angle wasn‟t a good one. He made a mental note to try a sixty-nine tonight.

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A Still, Small Voice “Noah,” Oscar panted, and Noah could feel Oscar‟s hands tugging at his hair and ears. Noah wanted to stay where he was so he could taste Oscar, feel the powerful throb of that beautiful dick as it gave up its cargo. But he released it and replaced his mouth with his hand, focusing on the bulbous head, his thumb swiping several times over the slit before he saw the geyser, before he heard the curse words coming from the quiet and gentle man. They had enough time to rinse each other off one last time before the hot water began to lose its heat. Despite their best efforts, they didn‟t make it to brunch, ending up back in the bedroom, wrapped in each other‟s arms.

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Chapter Eleven

NOAH and Oscar had been inseparable since that first night, spending every evening of the past two weeks together. Noah found himself heading to the club after work, even if he wasn‟t performing. He would go in through the back way, depositing a note under the windshield wiper of Oscar‟s car as he passed it, and then find his boyfriend in his office. They would chat for a minute or two until one of them found he couldn‟t keep his hands to himself. They‟d always stopped short of undressing or going any further than some heavy petting; Noah appreciated the professional image that Oscar wanted to keep at work. It was one of the things he so admired about this shy, quiet, adorable man. It was one of the reasons he knew he‟d fallen for Oscar, and fallen very hard. Each night, they would spend hours in the bedroom, or the shower, or the tub, learning even more about what pleased the other. There weren‟t always words to be spoken, except for when Oscar would make one of his romantic and endearing observations. He was, without a doubt, the most positive and upbeat person Noah had ever met. And Noah basked in it as often as he could. And the sex? Oscar was still taking his time, moving slowly so that he would not hurt Noah, but for his part, Noah was making serious progress on taking Oscar‟s entire length inside of him. They would spend hours playing with dildos and fingers until Noah begged Oscar to fuck him. Oscar was still a little too tentative for Noah‟s liking, but it was one of the many reasons he was growing to love this man with all of his heart. Oscar would thrust deeper and deeper one or two times, 110


but if Noah made a face or made any noise other than the ones Oscar had come to recognize as indicating Noah‟s pleasure, he would pull out until he could just maintain contact with Noah‟s prostate until they were both riding out their own orgasms. And that was one of the other things that Noah loved about Oscar: his self-control was so total and absolute that he always held his own orgasm until he could come with Noah. On this particular Monday, Noah finished early at work and decided to surprise his lover with an impromptu visit, although Noah wasn‟t really sure how impromptu it would be, since he was sure Oscar had come to expect him coming to the club to visit; he‟d been there every day after work for the past two weeks. He deposited another little note under the windshield of Oscar‟s car and headed inside, not surprised at all to find the quiet man alone at his desk, his fingers moving furiously over the keyboard. “Inventory?” Noah smiled when he saw Oscar‟s stern look of concentration melt to be replaced with a broad smile and a little chuckle. “What else?” Oscar stood and stretched his back, moving toward Noah and wrapping his arms around him. “You‟re spoiling me again, coming here every day.” “No, I‟m spoiling myself.” Noah pulled himself against Oscar‟s body, letting out a sigh when he felt Oscar‟s warm lips nibbling and kissing his neck. “You know that stalker I told you about?” “The one who‟s leaving all those notes on your car?” “Yeah, that‟s the one.” Oscar swung them in a lazy half circle while he looked into Noah‟s eyes. Noah could tell Oscar enjoyed this little game. “I don‟t understand why he doesn‟t sign his name. I mean, he sounds really handsome and intelligent and—” “I‟m sure he is,” Noah interrupted. “But maybe he has some intimacy issues or he has some horrible secret to hide.” “Oh… right,” Oscar said, his brow furrowing. “I guess I‟ll just stick with you, then.” Oscar seemed to be teasing. Noah slapped 111

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playfully at the tight ass, leaving his hand there to caress the same spot through the silky fabric of Oscar‟s dress slacks. “Ouch,” Oscar whined and gave Noah a bear hug. “Will I see you tonight?” “All of me, yes, for sure,” Oscar replied as he loosened his grip on Noah and brought their lips together. “I‟ll call before I come over. Probably be sometime before nine, I should think.” “Okay,” Noah said and pulled Oscar against him. After kissing him soundly, without tongue this time, he took a step back to appreciate the view. Oscar was wearing dark green trousers and a white shirt with a beautiful silk tie in a purple-and-green checkerboard pattern. “So very sexy, Mr. Reynolds.” “You‟d better leave before I decide I don‟t care about taking you right here, right now,” Oscar teased as he stepped toward Noah. “If you‟re waiting for me to complain or stop you—” “And you think I‟m evil?” Noah reached out and caressed Oscar‟s cheek before lowering his hand and finding Oscar semi-erect. He didn‟t resist when Oscar grabbed his wrist gently and pulled it away. “I guess it‟s hard for you to hide that thing when you‟re wearing dress pants, huh?” “Or jeans… even a snowsuit won‟t work,” Oscar said with a laugh and leaned forward to kiss Noah lips. “It is beautiful,” Noah sighed. “And I‟m not even a size queen. Although I must admit that your hands drive me crazy.” “Now go.” Oscar turned Noah around and slapped his ass. “Before you get me in trouble.” Noah offered a playful pout and headed out the way he‟d come in. He got home just before four and decided to change and then walk three blocks north to the little Japanese specialty restaurant and get something special to feed Oscar when he arrived. He‟d discovered that Oscar was especially fond of sushi, yaki onigiri, simmered daikon, and satsumaimo salad. Except for sushi, Noah had never heard of these 112

A Still, Small Voice foods before he‟d let Oscar into his life. And if it meant keeping him, Noah could handle some raw fish now and then, especially since it seemed to bring out a certain animalistic quality by the time Oscar was naked and wanting. Noah had even become quite fond of some of the dishes he‟d tried. In fact, he couldn‟t get enough of one dish called korokke, which were just the Japanese version of croquettes. Noah parked in his tiny little garage behind the converted warehouse and dashed to his loft to change and then head out to fetch a few of Oscar‟s favorite foods. He‟d changed into his jeans and decided against a jacket, since the weather was becoming warmer and warmer each day, then headed out his front door. “Noah?” He looked over from his door to see Paul standing in front of his own with a few grocery bags. “Oh, shit, I forgot,” Noah said, slapping his own forehead. “I‟ll call him and reschedule,” Noah said as he pocketed his keys and headed for the front door. “What are you talking about?” “Your lawyer,” Noah said, a little confused. “I had a meeting with him today.” “No, your meeting is tomorrow… at half-past four,” Paul corrected and balanced the grocery bags on his knee while he tried to unlock the door. Noah reached out and took the bags so Paul could open the door. “Thank God,” Noah said, feeling relieved. “Can‟t wait to get this over with.” Noah realized how that must have sounded. “Sorry,” he said as he entered the loft behind Paul and walked to the kitchen to place the bags on the counter. “It‟s okay,” Paul said with a smile. “I appreciate you being so willing to help out.” “Yeah, well,” Noah said, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. “I never did like Cherie.” “Don‟t say that in front of her lawyer, will ya?” Paul laughed, and Noah felt like slugging him. 113

D.W. Marchwell “Right,” Noah huffed, “like I‟m that stupid.” Paul reached out for Noah‟s shoulder but then backed away when he saw Noah retreat. “I didn‟t mean it that way,” Paul said. Noah could tell that the conversation wasn‟t going to get any better. He felt an inexplicable need to head back to the club. I’ll be safe as long as I never leave Oscar’s side again. It was a silly thought, but it made Noah feel better immediately. He waved a hand at Paul, thinking he should apologize. “Don‟t worry about it.” That was as close as Noah could come to a sincere apology. “I‟ll see you around.” “My son is spending the week with me,” Paul said suddenly, a little too loudly. “One of Cherie‟s concessions to try and show that she‟s not a total monster, I guess.” Paul chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. “Don‟t say that in front of him,” Noah teased and waved again. “Enjoy your visit, Paul.” Noah walked through the door and into the hallway, feeling sad for Paul all of a sudden without really knowing why. He‟d always known Cherie was a supreme bitch and was probably only marrying Paul because she knew she could get something out of it, but he‟d never imagined she‟d use her own child like this. Noah couldn‟t help the feeling that this situation was a little more complicated than Paul was making it sound. As he exited the building and headed to get some food for his dinner with Oscar, Noah decided not to think about Paul or his problems until he was in the lawyer‟s office the next day. Tonight, like every other night this week, would be all about him and Oscar.

“I‟M SURE my neighbors must be starting to wonder what‟s happened to me,” Oscar said, laughing, as he helped Noah clear the table. “I received a frantic message from the elderly lady who lives next door to me.” Oscar leaned against the counter, his biceps straining against the thin cotton of his white shirt. “She was worried that something had happened to me since the grass is getting so long.” 114

A Still, Small Voice “But you told me you cut it on Saturday,” Noah said as he placed the dinner dishes in the dishwasher. “Last Saturday,” Oscar said. “It‟s been over a week now, and I‟ve never let it go that long without cutting it.” “Well, then, how about we spend some time at your house?” Noah suggested, drying his hands on the tea towel. “We‟ll take care of the lawn and maybe deliver some cookies to that sweet lady who‟s so worried about you.” “Mrs. Komarniski,” Oscar said as he opened his arms to Noah. “She was the first neighbor to come and welcome Marcus and me to the neighborhood. She‟s a very sweet lady. She was very worried about me after I lost Marcus so suddenly. Calling and coming over with meals and treats.” “She sounds wonderful,” Noah said. He pressed his lips to Oscar‟s, the kiss chaste and gentle. “How‟s tomorrow, then?” Oscar put his arm over Noah‟s shoulders and guided him to the bedroom. “I‟ll come and pick you up after work, and we can go and take care of the grass and maybe stop in to take her some treats.” “What a good idea. You picking me up after work,” Noah cooed. “I wish I‟d thought of that.” “She‟s going to adore you,” Oscar said as they reached the bedroom. “She‟ll be very happy to see that I‟ve found someone.” “I can‟t wait,” Noah said as a thought dawned on him. “Hey,” he said, pulling away slightly. “You know about my family, but I‟ve never asked you about yours.” “I have a brother who lives in Toronto. He‟s married and has two sons. My parents are both still alive and living in Saskatchewan, where I‟m from.” “I figured there was some explanation for your incredible physique.”

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D.W. Marchwell “You‟re such a flirt,” Oscar said, his hands moving to untuck Noah‟s shirt. “You should have seen me in high school. I couldn‟t keep the girls away.” “When did you come out?” “When I met Marcus,” Oscar replied, his hands moving under Noah‟s shirt, caressing and stroking just the way Noah liked. He shivered and pulled himself closer to Oscar‟s warm body. “About sixteen years ago now.” “That would have made you… twenty-one, right?” Instead of answering him, Oscar pulled the shirt off over Noah‟s head, taking a few seconds to throw it over the back of the chair beside the dresser. Oscar‟s head dipped, and Noah hissed when he felt the tongue licking and laving first one nipple and then the other. Without really knowing when it had happened, Noah found that his pants were around his ankles and his erection was being stroked and caressed by those big farmer‟s hands. Noah had never realized that he had a thing for farmers, but then, he hadn‟t known until now that Oscar had been raised on a farm. Oscar brought his head up, one hand still kneading Noah‟s cock, the other pinching at his nipples, and claimed Noah‟s mouth in a fiery, aggressive kiss. Then, as he felt both hands on his chest, Noah was suddenly tumbling backward onto the bed. He reached up with his hands, wanting to be skin to skin with Oscar, but Oscar straddled his hips and pinned his arms to the bed. “I wanted to thank you for dinner.” Oscar‟s voice was quiet, as usual, but husky and full of promise. The feel of Oscar‟s silky dress slacks against his hips and the sight of a fully dressed, aroused Oscar had Noah panting in no time. He tried to move his hands, but Oscar only increased the pressure. Noah finally gave up and allowed Oscar to thank him. Oscar‟s mouth came down on his, their tongues finding each other almost immediately. Oscar pulled his head away slightly, and Noah sighed, knowing what was coming next. Their lips were not touching, but their tongues were still flicking against one another, still licking and laving. It had seemed strange to Noah the first time Oscar 116


had done it, but now, knowing how aroused and horny it made Oscar, Noah groaned and whimpered as he felt only Oscar‟s tongue against his. After a few moments, Oscar dipped his head back down and claimed Noah‟s lips, finally releasing his arms. Noah was so frantic to have a naked Oscar on him that his hands went immediately to pull the white shirt off and then to the button and zipper of the dress pants. His hands were empty when Oscar got off the bed and stood, removing his pants and boxers and socks. Noah sat up, pushing himself to the edge of the bed, his hands reaching around Oscar‟s slim hips to grasp that beautiful ass. He pulled Oscar toward him, taking the head of his semi-hard cock into his mouth. His hands kneaded and squeezed the bubble butt as he moved his tongue to take as much of Oscar as he could. “I‟m supposed to be thanking you,” Oscar panted, his hands losing themselves in Noah‟s hair. “You are,” Noah said as he came up for some air. Noah stood up and guided Oscar to the bed, on his back, and then positioned his body for a sixty-nine. Since Noah had discovered that this was the perfect position to take almost all of Oscar‟s huge erection, he‟d become insatiable. He heard Oscar grunt as his cock disappeared slowly into Noah‟s salivating mouth. Noah relaxed his throat and took it as far as he could, willing himself to go a little further than last time. “Jesus Christ, Noah,” Oscar panted as he pulled off Noah‟s cock and used his hand to stroke while he inserted two fingers into Noah‟s ass. Noah didn‟t really even care what was happening with his own dick, he was so intent on learning how to take all of Oscar, to give him even a little of the pleasure Noah had received from him. Oscar never complained, would never think of insisting on Noah doing more, and that was why Noah was so intent on doing just that. “God, baby,” Noah gasped when he came up for air. “No idea what you do to me.” Oscar said nothing but took Noah into his mouth again while his fingers worked themselves in and out of the tight hole, his fingers grazing Noah‟s prostate once or twice. Noah took a break for a 117

D.W. Marchwell moment, using his hand at the base of Oscar‟s cock to squeeze and pump while his tongue teased the slit and the glans. If Noah hadn‟t been so aroused by the sensations coming at him from both ends, he probably would have laughed at how much saliva it took to keep a cock that large well-lubed. Noah eased himself out of Oscar‟s mouth and reached over to the nightstand, grabbing a condom and the lube. He tore open the packet, extracted the condom, and rolled it on Oscar‟s throbbing dick while he nuzzled the low-hanging balls with his mouth and tongue. He slicked the sheathed cock and then straddled Oscar‟s hips, reaching behind himself to position the huge dick at his entrance. He closed his eyes and gasped as he felt Oscar exert his usual self-control and push in very slowly. He felt Oscar‟s hand cup the back of his head and pull him down. “Love it when you kiss me and fuck me at the same time, baby.” “I know,” Oscar said as he pressed their mouths together. It seemed like only seconds before Oscar pulled away. Noah opened his eyes. Oscar was staring at him, his eyes hooded. “God, Noah, you‟re so amazing, so beautiful.” Noah closed his eyes again and pushed backward, feeling, for the first time, the thick bush of pubic hair at the base of Oscar‟s huge cock. He reached around himself again, his eyes searching for Oscar‟s when his hand made contact with the heavy balls. “Move, please,” Noah sighed as Oscar realized what had just happened. “Fuck,” Oscar hissed, and Noah couldn‟t help but notice that one syllable had somehow become five or six. “So fucking tight,” Oscar grunted as he moved his hips up and down, very slowly. “Feels fucking amazing, baby.” Noah leaned forward and yelled when Oscar pegged his gland. “There,” Noah panted. “Right there…. Fucking hell!” Noah yelled when Oscar repeated the move again and again. Oscar reached up and pulled Noah to him, their sweaty, hairy chests pressed together as Oscar‟s lips took his again. Noah could not

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seem to kiss his lover, his mouth permanently in the form of an O, but then he felt that insistent tongue against his. They were connected, a complete circle, Oscar moving slowly in and out as his tongue played with Noah‟s. And when Oscar‟s hand wrapped itself around Noah‟s sensitive dick, he had only another couple of seconds before they were both crying out, Noah‟s seed shooting between them while Oscar emptied himself into the condom. Neither man moved for what seemed like hours, hands petting and mouths kissing. Then, with as much speed as the need to please each other had overtaken them, Noah lifted himself off of Oscar‟s body. “Fucking hell!” he bellowed. “What?” “I have to meet with that fucking lawyer tomorrow,” Noah grunted and fell back down on Oscar‟s muscled torso. “So you can come over afterward,” Oscar said, his hands hugging Noah tightly. Noah whined, “I don‟t wanna have to wait. I wanna go with you.” Oscar began to laugh, and Noah found it contagious. “God, you make me laugh,” he said as he kissed the top of Noah‟s head. “And horny and happy and—” Noah cut him off with a kiss. “Good, ‟cause after all the work I went through to get that monster inside me, I‟m not going anywhere.”

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Chapter Twelve

WHAT the hell have I gotten myself into? It wasn‟t the first time Noah had asked himself that question since agreeing to help Paul and his lawyer, and Noah was sure it wouldn‟t be the last time, either. He just hoped that he wouldn‟t have to go through the months and months of waiting and wondering, as he‟d done when he‟d been a defendant. In his case, Noah had not had to wait too long to find out that everyone finally believed he hadn‟t done it, but the months of “after” had been agonizing, to say the least. The registered letters, the phone calls, the endless stream of questions from school officials who felt the need to launch their own “investigation.” It had almost broken Noah‟s spirit at times. He shook the lawyer‟s hand and stood, thanking everything holy that the meeting was finally over. Noah had somehow, naïvely, thought that since he was only a witness, the meeting would be short enough to see him at Oscar‟s house helping to take care of the overgrown grass and bake some cookies for Mrs. Komarniski. Noah headed for his car and cursed when he saw that it was just after six. He pulled out his cell phone before starting the car and smiled when he saw the name Oscar Reynolds. “My boyfriend,” Noah said out loud as he punched the name and held the phone to his ear, waiting to hear that soothing, calm voice. “I was starting to worry,” Oscar said from the other end of the line. “I‟m so, so sorry, baby, but….” 120

A Still, Small Voice “Are you close?” Noah decided against the innuendo, thinking that it would be tacky since Oscar was worried about him. “I‟m just leaving right now. I‟ll be there in about thirty minutes.” “Okay, I‟ll get the lawn done and meet you in the house to make the cookies.” “You‟re amazing,” Noah sighed. “See you soon.” He listened to Oscar‟s laughter before ending the call. He checked the backseat to see that his duffle bag was still there and started the car, pulling out of the parking garage and heading south, very much looking forward to being with Oscar. As he drove, Noah found himself replaying parts of the conversation with the lawyer. There had been several red flags that piqued Noah‟s curiosity. Like when the lawyer had asked Noah if he‟d ever observed Cherie threaten or be abusive to anyone. Noah had foolishly asked if he‟d meant students, only to hear laughter, followed by a correction of “anyone.” Why would the lawyer ask him that? Wasn‟t this only about the fight out in the hall when Cherie was telling Paul his visitation would have to coincide with her schedule? And then the question about whether Noah thought Cherie knew he was gay. “Who? Paul?” Again the lawyer laughed, but said nothing, only using his pen this time to point directly at Noah. “How would I know? Cherie and I avoided each other as much as possible.” “Why was that?” the lawyer had asked then. “Probably because she couldn‟t manipulate me like she did other people.” Noah had watched the lawyer scribble furiously on his legal pad, and hadn‟t really given it too much thought. His mind was on the clock—and Oscar. But now he was thinking about why that particular answer would be so fascinating to the lawyer. And the question he‟d asked about precisely what Cherie had said to him that day in the hallway, when her loud yelling had awoken him. Noah couldn‟t honestly remember, so 121

D.W. Marchwell he‟d shrugged and offered a flippant answer: “What hasn’t she called me?” “Did she make some reference to your sexual orientation?” Noah remembered that Cherie had asked him some sort of insulting question about how hard it must have been for him to find another job, but he explained to the lawyer that he‟d heard a lot of comments from Cherie—and not all of them aimed at him—so trying to remember any one in particular would be akin to looking for a drunken teenager at a high school prom. As he continued his journey to the suburbs, turning west to head toward Oscar‟s house, Noah suddenly found himself remembering that she‟d called him a sexual deviant. He‟d not given it much thought beyond wondering why she‟d chosen those words. The police officers and the smarmy detective and even some of his former coworkers had all used words like “rapist” or “sex offender.” But Cherie had called him a sexual deviant. His sexual preference had always been a well-guarded secret while he was at work. He‟d even made up lies—ones he would easily remember—about having had girlfriends and even a wife. Noah would simply shrug and explain that they were divorced and change the subject or leave the room. Aiden had advised him that it would appear that Noah was still far too chagrined about the dissolution of his marriage to wish to discuss it any further. Could Paul have said something to Cherie about their short-lived affair? By the time he‟d pulled into the driveway on Wolf Ridge Place, he‟d lost any interest in figuring out the answer. Oscar was still outside in shorts, his T-shirt tucked into one of the back pockets, bending over and cleaning the blades of the electric mower. Noah felt his cock stirring in his pants as he watched Oscar stand and smile at him, his hand coming up to mop at his brow. He exited the vehicle, Oscar already having walked over to take the duffle bag out of the back of the car. Noah was wondering if he could kiss Oscar right there in front of the man‟s neighbors as he locked the doors. He‟d decided it wasn‟t a good idea and prepared to go 122


inside and have a quick grope before helping with whatever was left, when Oscar wrapped his impressive arms around Noah‟s shoulders and planted a lingering, wet kiss on his lips. Noah was momentarily stunned but got over his modesty pretty quickly, especially since a quick check with his hand revealed that Oscar wasn‟t wearing any underwear. Noah pulled away. “We‟d better get inside before….” Noah pushed one of his legs between his lover‟s, finding it already almost too late. “Okay, but I warn you that we may not be out for a while.” Noah laughed and kissed Oscar quickly, heading through the garage and into the house. Oscar kicked his sandals aside, and Noah toed off his shoes before Oscar dropped the duffle bag and pressed himself against Noah once more. “God, you smell incredible. Sweat and sunshine and freshly mown grass.” “Thank you,” Oscar said, going in for another lingering kiss. He pulled on Noah‟s shirt, then brought his hands around to the front to undo the buttons. “I need someone to scrub my back,” Oscar teased as he started walking Noah backward to the bathroom. “Your mower,” Noah said between kisses. “Shouldn‟t you put it away?” “You‟ve been living downtown too long,” Oscar said, laughing and pushing Noah‟s shirt off of his shoulders. “It‟ll be fine.” “In that case…,” Noah said with a grin and popped the button of Oscar‟s baggy shorts, that one action enough to let them fall off of his slim hips. He took Oscar in his hand and began to make long, slow strokes, his other hand finding the sensitive ball sac and pressing it up against Oscar‟s body. “Love the way you touch me, Noah, but….” Oscar pulled himself free so that he could help Noah step out of his pants, boxers, and socks. Noah expected him to come back up, but Oscar remained on his knees, his hands rubbing and caressing while his mouth covered the uncut 123

D.W. Marchwell head of Noah‟s cock, nipping and massaging the foreskin. “Can you start the shower?” “Can‟t even think when you do that,” Noah whimpered. He threw one hand over to where the taps were on the shower wall, keeping his hand there to test the water. “Think I got it,” he said when he and Oscar were eye to eye again. “Such a talented multitasker,” Oscar teased before pulling Noah to him. Their lips met, then their tongues. Too soon, Oscar pulled away and stepped into the shower, his hand out, beckoning Noah to join him. Noah didn‟t need to be asked twice. “Sorry, there‟s no bench… and we don‟t have more than ten minutes of hot water.” “In that case…,” Noah repeated and dropped to his knees, swallowing almost the entire length. He pulled off, feeling the urge to laugh when Oscar fell against the back wall of the shower. “Jesus, I‟ve created a monster,” Oscar teased as his hands found their way to stroke Noah‟s wet hair. “Stop making me laugh,” Noah said before taking Oscar into his mouth again. “Fuck,” Oscar said, drawing it out again into several syllables. It spurred Noah on, his mouth and hands working together to provide maximum pleasure. He pulled off every now and then to tongue the slit and press his fingers to Oscar‟s entrance. “Now, Noah, I‟m gonna—” Noah pulled off just in time to see and feel the jets of cum shoot out, some hitting him in the face and chest. Noah stayed down there long enough to grab the soap and begin washing all evidence of Oscar‟s release away. After a few moments, when he was clean, Oscar pulled Noah up and grabbed the bar of soap, still breathing hard. “To be continued in the bedroom,” Oscar said as he soaped and lathered every inch of Noah‟s excited body. “The water will be cold soon.” Noah‟s erection had not subsided, the intense cleansing having made him even more aroused. Even the jets of cool water that hit his back did nothing to subdue his excitement. They exited the bathroom after quickly drying each other off and headed to the bedroom, not 124


coming out again until there would be enough hot water to do another cleanup. Sometime after eight o‟clock, Noah questioned Oscar about the cookies and the visit they‟d planned to Mrs. Komarniski. Oscar explained that after receiving Noah‟s phone call, he‟d called his elderly neighbor and told her that they would do the visit the following evening. “That way you‟ll have to come back,” Oscar had teased. Noah had only laughed and told him that he had plenty of reasons to come back. They were in bed, but not ready for sleep, by nine, arms and legs and lips entwined. Occasionally, they broke apart for air or for conversation, Oscar wanting to know how the meeting with the lawyer had gone. Noah had found himself explaining about the odd questions and why he‟d found them so. He wasn‟t surprised to hear Oscar ask some of the same questions he‟d asked himself during the drive over. And he hoped that Oscar had some possible answers, because Noah certainly didn‟t feel like thinking about them. He doubted that Oscar did either.

WITH only a small amount of guilt, Noah called in sick the next day. He had more than enough accumulated days, and since he hardly ever used his vacation time, he figured he deserved a day off. Oscar had only been too willing to skip his usual routine at the club, calling his manager and explaining that he would be looking after a “sick” friend. When Noah had first suggested the plan sometime around ten the night before, he‟d worried that Oscar would be offended by the little white lie. But to his amazement, the suggestion was met with a smile and a long list of things they could do together around the house. As far as Noah was concerned, the house did not need any cleaning, nor did the yards or flower beds, but that was how they spent their morning. While Noah dusted and vacuumed, Oscar was busy out in the backyard, weeding and giving a lot of attention to his perennials. Noah didn‟t know the names for any of the plants, and he tried to listen 125

D.W. Marchwell to Oscar‟s explanations, but he was far too distracted by the mere thought of having an entire day to himself, alone with his new boyfriend. Sometime before noon, Oscar came back into his house, ready to suggest a shower and then heading out to find something to eat for lunch. But when he saw that Noah had already prepared club sandwiches and French fries, he very quickly let Noah know that Noah‟s idea was a much better one. Noah‟s work was done long before Oscar‟s, so he spent the rest of the afternoon helping Oscar tend to his flowers. He hesitated to do too much without consulting Oscar‟s superior skills, since Noah had never had much success in keeping plants alive. And despite Oscar‟s eagerness to help Noah acquire the necessary knowledge to reverse that particular trend, Noah remained oblivious. Not only could he not seem to remember the names of the dozen or so plants that created the peaceful and colorful backyard, he didn‟t seem to be able to remember the instructions for their care, either. Noah had always been amazed at people, like Oscar, who could store all of this information; it was one more thing that made this wonderful man so intriguing to Noah. After dinner had been prepared and consumed, Noah set to work making several batches of cookies to take to Mrs. Komarniski later that evening. He might not know what he was doing in a garden, but he was more than confident in the kitchen. As the assortment of cookies baked in the oven, Noah found Oscar fast asleep on the sofa in the little TV room just off the living room. Noah assumed it had once been used as a bedroom, since there was a closet taking up almost one entire wall. But since Marcus and Oscar had no children and there were already two other bedrooms down the hall, it seemed to make sense that this room would house the flat-screen television and other electronic equipment, thus leaving the large living room uncluttered and better able to seat as many guests as possible. He stood beside the long leather sofa and listened to the sound of Oscar breathing, entranced by the sight of the flushed cheeks and the taut belly rising and falling. If he hadn‟t felt like a creepy stalker, Noah would not have kneeled down beside the slumbering form, nor would 126


he have placed his hand on the muscled chest. He hated to wake him, but it would be time soon for them to go next door and visit with the elderly lady who had taken such a shine to Oscar. And as Noah watched those eyes open slowly, Oscar looking up and accepting the quick kiss to his lips, he could see why anyone who met Oscar would want him around. “Sorry to wake you, Sleeping Beauty, but the cookies will be done soon,” Noah said as he stretched his hands out over the warm torso. “Came in here to watch the news,” Oscar said, then yawned, stretching out his arms and pulling Noah to him. “Guess all that sun made me sleepy.” “We‟ll make sure that we‟re home and in bed early tonight.” Noah traced the outline of Oscar‟s square jaw and smiled. “Then it‟s back to the usual grind tomorrow.” “Can‟t wait for the weekend,” Oscar sighed as he sat up and pulled Noah onto his lap. “We should do something spontaneous and go away somewhere.” “It‟s not really spontaneous if we plan it, is it?” Noah let his body lean into Oscar‟s, his hands snaking around the broad back while he kissed the rosy cheeks. “Well, how are we supposed to know what to bring? We have to make a reservation, don‟t we?” “True,” Noah said as nuzzled Oscar‟s neck. “Do you have any favorite spots?” Oscar laughed and did some nuzzling of his own. “I was just about to ask you that same question.” “It depends on how much time we have, I guess.” “Can you take Friday off?” Oscar‟s hands moved slowly over Noah‟s back, then settled underneath the waistband of his shorts. “Aiden and I have a show on Saturday night,” Noah said with a pout. “Not much time to go away and relax and enjoy ourselves.” “Can you take Monday off, then? And maybe Tuesday?” 127

D.W. Marchwell “I don‟t see why not,” Noah said, squirming a little when Oscar‟s roaming hands found their way under the elastic of his boxers. “If you keep doing that, the cookies will burn.” Noah unwrapped himself from around Oscar‟s body and moved to stand up, but he was held fast. “I‟ll let Mikey, my manager, know. He‟ll be okay with filling in for me for two days.” “I‟ll let them know tomorrow at work that I‟m actually going to be using some of my vacation time. I just hope it doesn‟t lead to all sorts of gossip.” “Gossip?” Noah finally extricated himself from Oscar‟s embrace and held out his hand, pulling Oscar off of the sofa. “Yeah, you know…. „Why has he been so happy lately?‟ „Where do you think he‟s going?‟ „Why is he taking two days off? He never takes sick days.‟” “And what will you tell them?” “Nothing,” Noah said as they walked out of the little room and toward the kitchen. “I don‟t really enjoy sharing details about my life with colleagues.” “Once bitten, twice shy, I guess,” Oscar observed, and Noah knew he was referring to Paul. He‟d been slowly letting go of the details of his arrest and how it had happened. And although he shouldn‟t have been, Noah was amazed each time that Oscar thought no less of him. “Why don‟t you go start getting ready? I‟ll take these out and let them cool, then I‟ll come and join you.” Noah put on the oven mitts and opened the oven door, pulling out the three cookie sheets and placing them on the little island in the center of the kitchen. “Don‟t—” “Hot,” Oscar hissed as he dropped the cookie he‟d just tried to steal. “That‟s what you get for trying to steal from your elderly neighbor,” Noah chastised him, removing the mitts and pushing Oscar toward the bedroom.

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“I FEEL so naughty.” Oscar looked over from the driver‟s seat and raised his eyebrows. “Hold that thought. We‟re almost there.” His hand slid over the console to rest on Noah‟s thigh. “I mean about skipping out on work,” Noah said, his hand finding Oscar‟s and holding on. “I didn‟t.” Oscar squeezed his thigh. “Can‟t wait to get you in our own private Jacuzzi.” Noah had been busy with trying to get as much work done as possible, and of course with the show on Saturday night, and hadn‟t done a lot of helping when it came to planning the weekend. Oscar had made almost all of the arrangements and had refused to tell Noah much about it. So to get this piece of information as they were only minutes away from the lodge in Jasper made Noah want to reach over with his foot and put the pedal to the metal. “If you tell me that there will be a private Jacuzzi with champagne and strawberries, I might just have to rip your clothes off as soon as we‟re through the door.” “Strawberries?” Oscar looked over momentarily, confused. “I thought you liked raspberries better?” “Oh, Jesus.” Noah whimpered and moved to lean over the console to plant a kiss on his lover‟s cheek, but his seatbelt held him firmly in his seat. “You didn‟t.”

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D.W. Marchwell “I might have,” Oscar whispered coyly. “There might also be a few other surprises.” Noah took Oscar‟s hand between his and brought it up to his mouth, taking the thumb into his mouth and sucking on it. “Careful, if we end up in the hospital, there won‟t be any surprises. Other than no sex for weeks.” Noah relinquished the thumb and returned Oscar‟s hand to his thigh, so impatient to have this man all to himself for three days that he was practically vibrating with anticipation. Noah was almost certain that he had fallen hopelessly in love with Oscar, and he‟d wanted to say those words to him so many times over the past week, but he‟d always chickened out. He was pretty sure that Oscar felt the same way, but Noah kept experiencing these moods of uncertainty, totally unsure about what was acceptable to say. Was three weeks long enough to know that you were in love with someone? Was saying “I love you” after three weeks considered bad form? Would Oscar think that Noah was too needy and clingy if he confessed what he was feeling? Noah and Aiden had discussed this new relationship, and he‟d been comforted by Aiden‟s admission that it all depended on the person. Some people fell in love and married within the same month and stayed together forever. And some others who‟d dated for years still ended up divorcing. Despite the sound advice, Noah had decided that he didn‟t want to be the first one to say those three words. He‟d always laughed when this was a central joke in a movie or when he heard friends or coworkers talking about how they just couldn‟t be the one to say it first. But he was realizing that he laughed because he didn‟t understand all of the implications. If you said it first and the other person didn‟t say it back, did it mean you were wasting your time? Or if you said it first and the other person reacted badly, how did you deal with the humiliation? Regardless of the answers to those questions, Noah had decided to bide his time, to wait for the perfect moment. And as he and Oscar pulled the luggage from the vehicle and made their way to the front desk of the lodge, Noah figured there was a 130

A Still, Small Voice very good chance that the perfect moment wasn‟t too far away. The lodge was secluded, there weren‟t too many people around, and the polite young lady at the desk informed them that their “suite” was ready and waiting for them. Suite. Noah found himself even more intrigued to find out what, precisely, Oscar had booked for them. He already knew that there was a Jacuzzi in the room, besides the regular bathroom, so he couldn‟t imagine what else could have been stuffed into what was essentially a hotel room. He followed Oscar to the stairs and then down the hall to Suite 212. He waited patiently for Oscar to slip the key card in and out of the lock, dismissing the urge to make some crude remark about how good Oscar was at sliding things in and out, and walked past Oscar when invited to do so. His eyes noticed everything and nothing. Noah had a hard time focusing on any one particular detail. It wasn‟t your typical room; it had a separate living room, very small kitchen area, a huge television, a computer modem, and a king-size bed in the bedroom. The Jacuzzi was off the bedroom, right next to the bathroom. And while the fabrics and furniture weren‟t precisely Noah‟s style, the earth tones all seemed to encourage relaxation. “Well, whadda ya think?” Noah turned to see Oscar standing in the bedroom doorway, already having deposited the suitcases on the bed. “It seems so quiet. I haven‟t heard any sirens for hours.” “You‟ve been living downtown too long,” Oscar said as he laughed and moved to embrace Noah. “My mission this weekend is to have you so relaxed and stress-free that you‟ll be putty in my hands.” “I‟m always putty in your hands,” Noah said as he felt Oscar‟s lips on his neck. “What do you want to do first?” “I‟m starving,” Oscar admitted. “How about an early dinner?” “And then?” Oscar waggled his eyebrows, and Noah laughed, blushing to the tips of his ears. Oscar might not have seemed like the obvious sexually 131

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open type three weeks ago, but he was certainly making up for lost time now. If Oscar kept up this pace, Noah was quite convinced that he wouldn‟t be able to walk in another month or so. Oscar kissed one of Noah‟s ears. “Let‟s go and find something to eat. I saw this bistro when we were driving in.” They walked out of the lodge and headed toward Patricia Street, stopping at the bistro. Noah wasn‟t sure they‟d be able to get in; the place looked like it took reservations. But when Oscar greeted the hostess, Noah heard him announce a reservation under the name Reynolds, and seconds later, Noah was seated at a small table for two overlooking the quaint street they‟d just strolled down. There were specialty shops and signs for tours and treks everywhere. Noah didn‟t know he was smiling until Oscar interrupted his thoughts. “Your face lights up when you smile.” Noah‟s smile grew even more. “Guess I‟ve had a lot to smile about lately.” Noah felt Oscar‟s leg against his. “So I did some sleuthing on the Internet and found out that the chef who owns this restaurant doesn‟t believe in fast dining.” Oscar picked up the leather-clad menu and opened it. “Apparently, we should count on being here for at least two hours.” Noah nodded, slightly disappointed that he would have to wait that long before having Oscar all to himself and naked. “Have I thanked you yet for all of this?” “Hmmm,” Oscar hummed. “I‟m not sure. You‟ll have to do it again… later… when we‟re alone.” Noah was grateful that the waitress came by at that point. It wasn‟t that he minded the flirting but rather the reaction it produced in his pants. Of course, he didn‟t have as much to cover up as Oscar, but Noah still found public erections a tricky thing to hide, so he tried to avoid them, something that was not so easy with Oscar looking at him as if he were dessert. Oscar ordered the Venison Emince and Portabella Mushroom while Noah, not feeling adventurous enough to try deer meat, ordered 132


the Orange-Marinated Lamb Sirloin. They chatted about the small-town atmosphere, the small, intimate restaurant they sat in, and Oscar presented him with a long list of possible activities scheduled for tomorrow. Noah didn‟t really have a preference, other than ensuring he was with Oscar, so he just shrugged and told Oscar to surprise him. And Noah had no doubt that Oscar would do just that.

NOAH had planned to intercept the bill at the end of dinner, only to learn that Oscar had already provided them with his card when they‟d entered. I didn’t even notice, Noah thought as they pushed themselves away from the table and exited the restaurant. Instead of going straight back to the lodge, Oscar suggested a little evening stroll, and Noah was only too happy to go along. And he wasn‟t the least bit surprised when Oscar surreptitiously reached out to take his hand, just holding it while they chatted about the stores and houses they passed. Since it wasn‟t really skiing season, they found themselves alone, occasionally seeing other couples or families who must have lived year-round in the resort community. Noah was surprised at how comfortable he was; he wasn‟t really a prude when it came to public displays of affection, but he had been conditioned to hide his sexuality for fear of losing his teaching job. He was amazed that even after six years, that particular old habit was still with him. “This is nice,” he said finally, after a lull in the conversation. “It is a beautiful place, yeah.” “No,” Noah said, squeezing Oscar‟s hand. “I meant this.” Oscar smiled and looked at Noah. “I‟ve discovered when it comes to you, I have very poor impulse control.” Noah nudged him with his shoulder. “You say that as if it‟s a bad thing.” They came to a little bench by a baseball diamond that faced a condominium complex of some sort, and Oscar suggested they sit for a

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while. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, suddenly pensive. Noah waited for him to say what was on his mind. “I‟ve been doing some thinking about your problem,” Oscar said after a few minutes. Noah said nothing, waiting for the thoughts to finish. “I think it‟s a wonderful thing you want to do for him, despite how he treated you, but there‟s some things that just don‟t add up for me.” “Okay,” Noah said, leaning forward and moving closer at the same time. “There has to be some sort of explanation why he chose to report you. He knew you were gay, and whether or not he is, that was something you even admitted to him. Correct?” “Correct.” Oscar was flexing his fingers, the joints making cracking sounds. Noah had come to realize this was just something Oscar did when he was thinking. “And then there‟s the police officer‟s reaction, and the principal‟s.” Oscar flexed his fingers some more. “I don‟t understand why the principal would allow you to be taken out in handcuffs in front of an entire school filled with children and teachers. I mean, wouldn‟t he just be inviting a hailstorm of questions from justifiably concerned parents?” Noah could only shrug. “And the police officer. I‟m no expert, but isn‟t that against protocol? To stop the escorting of a handcuffed suspect and leave you alone in the hallway, surrounded by students and teachers? Just so he could go and congratulate Paul on his marriage?” “Good questions… all of them.” “I‟m assuming that these issues were never raised by your lawyer… or you?” “No, I‟m sorry, I was just so glad it was all over that I didn‟t want to think about it anymore.”

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A Still, Small Voice “I know it will sound crazy, ridiculous even, but do you think that there might be something more between Paul and this officer?” Noah shrugged, caught completely off-guard. “I don‟t know.” Noah looked down at the ground and exhaled loudly. “Like I said, I was just so glad it was all over, I sort of—” Oscar sat up straight and put his arm across Noah‟s shoulders. “I apologize, baby. I shouldn‟t have brought it up again. I know this was supposed to be a different kind of weekend, but I find that I‟m… really fucking pissed that this happened and even more so that no one seemed to be paying attention to what it did to you.” Noah smiled and leaned against Oscar. “Don‟t ever apologize for wanting to help me.” Noah moved his head forward until he could give Oscar a kiss on the lips. “And besides, since I found you, I‟m not thinking about it as much.” Oscar kissed his forehead, and Noah felt like he wanted to stay with him, right there on that bench, forever. It was a perfect moment. There was another moment of silence, after which Oscar kissed his forehead again and sighed. “All I think about is you,” Oscar admitted. Noah turned to look at him, feeling as if he‟d been sucker-punched. “I think I love you, Noah.” Noah reached up again and kissed Oscar on the lips, his eyes squeezed tight against the heat building behind them. He pulled away and felt his face positively splitting from the huge, goofy grin that was on his face. “I think I love you too.” “I know it‟s soon and all, but… I didn‟t think I‟d ever meet anyone else who….” “I know, Oscar.” Noah took Oscar‟s hands in his. “I know.” “I think you‟re the most generous person I‟ve ever met. The kindest… the sexiest, for sure,” Oscar said, his cheeks flushing and his eyes darting between their clasped hands and Noah‟s eyes. “And the biggest sap too.” Noah kissed Oscar again. “If you keep talking like that, I‟m going to start bawling like I did when I saw Shelter.” Noah offered a weak laugh. 135

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Oscar inhaled quickly, the sound of the air rushing into his lungs making Noah‟s brow furrow. “I love that movie.” “I‟ll get it for you for your next birthday, then.” “Already have it,” Oscar said as he kissed Noah‟s forehead and stood up. “That TV room with the closet? The closet is filled with CDs and DVDs.” “Wow,” Noah mouthed and rose to walk beside his lover again. “We should do a movie marathon one weekend,” he said as he reached for Oscar‟s hand. “It‟ll have to wait until I can keep my hands off you,” Oscar said with a wink. “Speaking of which….” Noah fell into step with Oscar, trying to keep up with the brisk pace and trying not to laugh at how quirky and incredible and loving and unique Oscar was. The fact that he was also sexy as hell and the most amazing lover Noah had ever known was just icing on the cake.

OSCAR was sound asleep. It was only Noah who was awake at two in the morning, unable to settle his mind from asking the same questions over and over. They‟d spent the rest of the evening in the Jacuzzi and the shower. They‟d both collapsed, completely exhausted, just before midnight, with no big plans for the next day other than to find a great place to have brunch and then do some touristy things. Noah only hoped he‟d be able to fall back to sleep so he could enjoy whatever they ended up doing. Noah wasn‟t so concerned about finding answers to why the principal had acted the way he had; Noah already suspected the principal did nothing to help him right away because Thomas was a very weak principal. He was not in control of the school—the viceprincipal, Shane, was the one who most of the teachers named as “Thomas‟s enforcer.” Thomas was the accepted visionary for the school, and Shane was responsible for absorbing any and all tasks that would diminish Thomas‟s reputation as everyone‟s friend. And then 136


there had been those teachers who did whatever they wanted, whether Thomas agreed with their actions or not. Noah had been at the school for several years before the arrival of either Thomas or Shane and had become inured to the counterproductive selfishness of those teachers who did whatever they wanted. Thomas did nothing because it was the path of least resistance. What had Noah unable to sleep was the question Oscar had asked him, one that he‟d never thought about before. Why had the police officer who had escorted him out of the school stopped to congratulate Paul? The obvious answer was that the police officer was full of himself and was grandstanding, trying to seem important. But why would he do that to Noah? This was the same police officer who ran assemblies on bullying and showed the horrendous videos about the dangers of drinking and driving. Did he have some sort of personality disorder that allowed him to be two completely different people, one concerned and helpful and the other spiteful and vindictive? There was the issue of why Paul hadn‟t told anyone that Noah was gay, that he only had sex with men. And then there was the issue that rape was about power and violence; when had Noah ever exhibited either of those qualities? Noah had always had the power or the control over what happened in his classroom. If anyone was going to be accused of trying to exert power and control, it should have been Skyler. Was it Paul‟s way of eliminating an unwanted complication? A complication who knew his secret? Paul had said he wasn‟t gay and that he‟d never lied to Noah, but he had. Was Paul just covering his own ass? Or had he just been ignorant of what to do in such a situation? And then there were those words Paul had spoken twice: things aren’t always what they seem. What was Paul trying to tell him with those words? Was Paul not the one who reported it to the police? No, Noah thought as he got out of bed to get something to drink; Paul had admitted to reporting him. So then why did he report Noah, especially knowing that Noah couldn‟t have done it? When Noah found himself going in circles, wondering if the police officer might have convinced Paul to report Noah anyway, he sighed with frustration and climbed back under the sheets. 137

D.W. Marchwell He huddled close to Oscar‟s warm body, realizing only now how cold he‟d gotten by pacing up and down the room for the past two hours, and closed his eyes. He tried to make his mind a blank, but Oscar‟s scent and warm skin only served to fill his mind with images of a different sort. It was a heady feeling for Noah, this feeling of security, of being protected. Noah had become accustomed to looking out for himself, to listening to that little voice in the back of his head that told him that it wasn‟t wise to trust anyone new. As his breathing slowed, Noah thought about how glad he was that he‟d decided to ignore that little voice. He‟d ignored it and trusted Oscar, and now he only listened to the voice telling him that Oscar would never do anything to hurt him.

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Chapter Fourteen

NOAH nervously, compulsively checked his duffle bag one last time, ensuring he had everything he would need for an entire weekend at Oscar‟s house. And it wasn‟t just any weekend; it would be their onemonth anniversary. There would be no show this Saturday due to Aiden‟s most recent liaison with a rather rich banker. Aiden was rather tight-lipped about the whole affair, but Noah could tell that his friend might just have found The One. Aiden wasn‟t a gold-digger, Noah knew, but as Aiden always pontificated, “I‟m not looking for a rich husband, but I won‟t turn one away, either.” And there were other signs, as well. Noah had noticed over the last two weeks that his best friend was distracted. No, not distracted, but moony. Where Aiden was usually as sharp as a tack and never missed anything that was going on around him, this moony Aiden seemed far too content to let comments and injustices pass him by. With a wave of his hand, Aiden dismissed Noah‟s observations regarding this change of personality—and alertness—explaining that he was mellowing and maturing with age. Whatever the reason, Noah couldn‟t have been happier for his friend. And if Noah was right about the new paramour in Aiden‟s life, he hoped that the two couples would become as close as he and Aiden had been when it was just the two of them, together against all obstacles. There was no one that Noah trusted more completely than Aiden, although Oscar was very rapidly becoming someone that Noah not only trusted but couldn‟t imagine living without. When he was satisfied that all of the essentials were there in his duffle bag, Noah sat at the small kitchen table and waited for the phone 139

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call from Oscar, the one that would tell Noah that he should go outside to start their anniversary weekend. He checked his watch again, probably for the fiftieth time in as many seconds, and decided that he would go outside and enjoy the sunshine. He checked his loft windows and made sure that everything that should be turned off was and then headed out the door. He set his duffle bag down in the hallway and turned to lock the door, surprised at the sound of laughter, a child‟s laughter, echoing through the corridor. He locked his door, pocketed the keys, grabbed his duffle, and headed for the front door, stopping when he noticed a little boy run out into the hallway, almost running right into him. “Artie?” Noah recognized Paul‟s voice. This must be his son, Noah thought as he smiled down at the young boy and kept walking toward the front entrance. “Lost my ball,” the little boy said, and Noah looked around, noticing a bright blue football near the entrance doors. It was one of those spongy footballs. “You did, did you?” Noah put his duffle down and bent over at the waist to be almost eye level with the boy. “I‟ll get your ball and you can go back to your daddy, okay?” The boy nodded and turned, heading back into Paul‟s loft. Looks just like Paul, Noah thought as he walked over and picked up the football. He turned back and retrieved his duffle, then headed to the open door of Paul‟s space. He knocked but didn‟t see anyone right away. “Paul?” Noah said tentatively. There was no answer. “Paul?” Noah increased the volume a little bit more. “I found your son‟s ball. I‟ll just leave it on the counter and close the door.” As he approached the counter, a bookcase, startlingly white and hideous, caught Noah‟s eye, and he saw about six framed pictures of varying sizes, some formal family portraits, most not, scattered among the shelves. He saw images of the little boy he‟d just seen in the hallway. He decided not to focus on the pictures of Cherie, or that smug 140

A Still, Small Voice police officer who‟d arrested him, and went back to the counter to deposit the football and then head outside to wait for Oscar. Police officer. The thought hit Noah like a speeding freight train. He turned back and looked at the pictures again. With the exception of the one picture that had obviously been taken in the hospital shortly after Paul and Cherie‟s son was born, the police officer with the selfsatisfied grin was in every single picture, always beside Paul. Leaning on him, hand on a shoulder. He was even standing right beside Paul in Paul and Cherie‟s wedding portrait. Noah ignored the question that popped into his head as to why there would be a wedding portrait up considering Paul and Cherie were divorcing, and tried to wrap his mind around this curious fact. He relaxed his frown as he heard footsteps coming down the hall, and forced a smile. “Noah,” Paul said, coming out of one of the rooms down the long hallway, his face and clothes covered in tiny flecks of yellow paint. “Hey, how‟ve you been, stranger?” “Fine, thank you.” Noah turned and offered the ball to Paul. “I told him I‟d get the ball and that he should come back into the loft.” “Thanks,” Paul said. “He kind of got away from me. We were painting his room, and he kept unpacking the boxes to play with his toys.” Noah stood, wanting to ask about the police officer, but he couldn‟t think of any nonchalant way to raise the subject. Finally, he just decided to dive right in. “How old is he? From the pictures, I‟m guessing about five or so?” “Five, yeah,” Paul confirmed. “Just had his fifth birthday two months ago.” “No pictures of that yet?” Noah pointed to the bookshelf, then switched the duffle from one hand to the other. “They grow up so fast, yeah?” “That they do,” Paul said, folding his arms over his chest.

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D.W. Marchwell “Are these others in the pictures part of Cherie‟s family?” Noah tried to keep the look of sincere curiosity on his face as he looked back at the pictures. “No, Cherie‟s an only child.” Paul moved a little closer to the pictures and pointed. “Those are Cherie‟s parents,” he said, indicating a formal portrait of grandparents and grandson. “Those are my parents.” This particular picture was smaller and taken at some kind of rustic cabin. “Your parents live on a farm?” Noah tried to think of questions about all of the pictures so his questions about the police officer wouldn‟t seem so isolated or out of context. “No, that‟s our cabin. That‟s where I spent my summers as a kid.” “Looks like Banff,” Noah said, smiling and rejecting the feelings of guilt. “No, Peace River, actually.” Paul pointed to the next picture, the one that showed Paul and the police officer wrestling, both of them trying to take possession of a basketball. “And that‟s Timmy. We‟ve known each other since elementary school. I moved out here only a year or two after he did.” Paul unfolded his arms and turned to face Noah. “You know Timmy. He‟s the DARE liaison for the high school, or at least he used to be.” Noah shrugged. He wasn‟t about to tempt fate by asking for a last name. Noah had never had much to do with the DARE program; why would he? It was a program aimed at teaching students the dangers of drinking and driving. It wasn‟t a program that he would have had much reason to come in contact with, except for the occasional lost class when his students attended an assembly and Noah went along to supervise. “Well,” Noah said casually. “My ride‟s probably here.” He turned and headed for the door. “Did you want to meet him?” For a moment, Noah thought Paul meant Timmy, then realized he‟d been referring to his son. “Sure.”

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A Still, Small Voice “Wait there,” Paul said and disappeared down the hallway. He came back with his son hoisted in his arms. “Artie? This is Mr. Lowe. He and Daddy used to work together.” Noah extended his hand and Artie took it, grabbing onto two of Noah‟s fingers. “Hi,” the boy said with a bright smile. “I‟m getting a yellow room.” “Yellow? Really? That‟s a great choice,” Noah said enthusiastically. “I hope you have fun painting today, Artie.” Noah smiled at Paul. “Okay… I‟ve gotta go. Have a nice visit, you two.” He turned and headed for the door, waving as Paul said his good-byes. He closed the door behind him and leaned against the door. It wasn’t just stopping with me handcuffed so he could offer his congratulations, Noah thought as he moved slowly to the front entrance. They’ve been friends since elementary school. There was a picture forming in Noah‟s brain, and he didn‟t really know what to think about that. He suddenly remembered Paul telling him, “It‟s complicated,” in response to Noah‟s observation that it would have been easier to stay out west to get his teaching degree than to move to a new city where he wouldn‟t know anyone. But he had known someone. Timmy had been here already, and Paul had probably stayed with him. And then there was the name. Noah couldn‟t think of one other male adult who preferred to be called by the childhood form of his name once past the age of twenty. Timmy. Noah was willing to bet that none of the officer‟s colleagues called him that. He was still mulling it all over by the time Oscar pulled up to the curb. Seeing Oscar put a smile on his face, as it always did, and he wondered what Oscar would make of this new piece of information.

THEY‟D started watching the movie with the best of intentions, but somehow, after having watched only thirty minutes of it, they were naked and lying on a fake fur throw on the floor. Noah had laughed when the throw that had been covering them on the sofa as they sat 143

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huddled together was discarded, Oscar then laying it out and giving him a look that was unmistakable. Neither man was in any hurry, each of them taking the time to explore and discover what they hadn‟t already. Noah had jokingly told Oscar that they would both be too sore and exhausted to do anything by Sunday, the actual day of their onemonth anniversary. But Oscar just grinned and told him that they would just have to pace themselves. And so they were lying on the fake fur, kissing and holding one another. “Happy, baby?” Oscar was on top, his hips and ample endowment resting between Noah‟s legs. “I don‟t think I‟ve stopped smiling once since I met you,” Noah said, his hands tracing lazy circles over the muscled back. “You‟re amazing,” Oscar said before pressing their lips together again. “That‟s my line,” Noah said, then sucked Oscar‟s lower lip in between his own. “One month.” Oscar smoothed his hands over Noah‟s hair. “Hard to believe sometimes.” “What? That‟s it‟s only been a month? Or that you fell in love again.” “Either… both.” Oscar propped himself up on his elbows, the shifting creating some very nice friction between their groins. “I do love you.” Noah sighed as the friction eased. “I love you too. Very much.” Oscar dipped his head, and this time the kiss was longer, more passionate. Noah felt the gentle pressure of Oscar‟s tongue against his lips, and he opened his mouth, darting his tongue out, the touch making him push his hips into his lover‟s body. Oscar pulled his head back slightly. “Should we take this to the bedroom, or do you want to stay here?”

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A Still, Small Voice “Bedroom,” Noah whispered against the kiss-swollen lips. “Unless you have supplies here.” Oscar reached beside him, but Noah couldn‟t really see where. With a raised eyebrow, Oscar looked down at Noah as he brought his hand up to show Noah the lube and the new box of condoms. “Why am I not surprised?” Noah reached down with one hand and slapped his lover‟s ass. “What do you want, baby?” Noah pushed against Oscar‟s chest very gently, and the older man rolled off, his eyes heavy with need and desire as Noah positioned his upper body on the sofa cushions. “You, Oscar, always you.” “Fuck,” Oscar sighed as he watched Noah pull apart his own cheeks, exposing his insatiable hole. “So sweet.” “Love it when I hear that language from you. Drives me crazy knowing that you can‟t control yourself.” Noah turned around to look at his lover slipping on a condom, lubing first himself and then Noah‟s waiting hole. “God, Noah, your ass is just the finest I‟ve ever seen.” Oscar rose up on his knees and positioned himself behind Noah. He leaned down and began probing at the tight ring of muscle with his tongue and thumbs. “I spend most of my days rock hard just thinking about fucking you.” “Fuck me, yeah,” Noah said, his eyes closing as Oscar continued to work his hole. He felt one thumb, then both, then that amazing tongue. Oscar rimmed him, licked him, stretched him before saying, “Need you, Oscar. Want you.” “All yours, baby, only yours.” Noah felt the hands grip his hips and then the slow, deliberate push of that monster cock against his hole. Noah yelled out when the head pushed past his prostate, and tried to push himself back onto Oscar‟s dick. “Oooh, Oscar, yeah, fuck me, please. So fucking amazing. Harder, please.” Noah‟s hands scrambled for purchase on the leather sofa, the pain of Oscar‟s long, thick dick exquisite and oh so welcome. 145

D.W. Marchwell “You like that, baby? Like my big dick in your tight hole?” Noah grunted and pushed back again, finally feeling his ass against Oscar‟s flat belly. He whimpered as Oscar moved his hips from side to side slowly, totally lost in being filled by this man. “Oscar, Oscar, Oscar.” He called out his lover‟s name over and over again as he felt the slow pull against the muscle. Oscar pulled out and then thrust in just enough to rub the head of his dick against Noah‟s prostate over and over again. “Feels so good, damn, baby.” Oscar moaned as he pushed all the way in again. Noah felt Oscar‟s hands trail up his back and then stop at his shoulders. Noah was completely aroused by the thought that Oscar was grabbing his shoulders for leverage, that he would very soon be pumping faster, harder, into Noah. “Yeah, please, harder, please,” Noah moaned as he felt Oscar‟s hairy torso resting on his back. “Okay, baby, you ready?” Oscar‟s lips kissed Noah‟s back, wherever they could reach, and he began snapping his hips. Noah could feel the sheer size of Oscar inside of him, could feel the low-hanging balls slapping against his own. Just when Noah thought it couldn‟t possibly be any better, feel any better, Oscar‟s hand trailed down Noah‟s stomach and grabbed his cock. He felt the large thumb sliding back and forth over the slit. “Is that what I do to you, baby? Make you leak all that pre-cum?” Oscar kissed his back a few more times, and then Noah felt the other hand on his chest, pulling Noah up and away from the sofa. “Move with me, Noah,” Oscar said as he leaned back on his haunches, Noah ending up sitting, impaled, on his lover‟s lap. Noah‟s hands were on top of Oscar‟s. He interlaced his fingers with those of the hand on his chest, while his other hand covered the hand that Oscar was using to pump his dick. He yelled out several times when Oscar‟s cock pushed up and into him, farther than it ever had before. It was such an incredible feeling of pain and pleasure. The intensity of what Noah was feeling, seemingly over every inch of his body, sent his mind reeling. And when Oscar swiped a thumb, one last time, over the slit of his cock, Noah cried out, his muscles clamping 146

A Still, Small Voice down on Oscar‟s cock. As his orgasm ripped through his sensitive body, Noah felt Oscar‟s lips on his neck, on his shoulders, on his ears. He heard Oscar call out his name over and over again, felt the incredibly erotic thrumming inside of him as Oscar emptied his seed into the condom. Oscar tightened his grip on Noah‟s chest, bringing his other hand up to rest at Noah‟s neck. Noah reached around and stroked whatever skin he could reach. Oscar was so hot, so slick with sweat. It was the most sexually arousing thing Noah had ever felt. To feel what he did to Oscar, how hot he made Oscar, both literally and figuratively. “I love you, Noah Lowe.” Noah closed his eyes as he listened to Oscar repeating those words over and over again. When he felt Oscar begin to soften and slip out of him, Noah pulled himself up and turned around, pulling Oscar back down to the throw. This time, Noah was on top, and he brushed the damp locks of hair from Oscar‟s sweaty brow. “I love you, Oscar Reynolds, so very, very much.” “Happy anniversary,” Oscar said with a sigh, tilting his head to kiss Noah‟s wrists and hands. “Something tells me it will be, yes.” Noah kissed Oscar as he reached down and pulled off the condom with one hand, tossing it to the side. He tried to move down to do some last-minute cleanup, but Oscar prevented him from moving too far away. “I know it‟s not Sunday, but I want to give you one of your presents now.” Oscar was dotting Noah‟s skin with little kisses. “One of?” Noah tried to look horrified. “I only got you one.” “I don‟t care if you didn‟t get me any,” Oscar said, his hands on either side of Noah‟s face. “Nothing could be better than what you‟ve already given me.” “Oh, Oscar,” Noah cooed. “Now I feel like a complete shit. I was only teasing you. I got you lots of stuff.” Noah kissed him soundly. “And if you give me one, I‟ll let you have one now as well.” 147

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After a quick shower, Oscar had Noah standing in the laundry room, by the door that led to the garage. He had one hand covering Noah‟s eyes and the other at the base of his neck. “Remember how I asked you to park on the street because I wanted to wash the driveway tomorrow?” Noah nodded but said nothing. “Well, I don‟t need to clean the driveway tomorrow.” “That‟s what I said to you, but then I just figured you‟re an even bigger clean-freak than I first thought,” Noah said, laughing at Oscar when he felt the big hand squeeze his neck. “I told you to park on the street… because….” Noah could hear the turn of the doorknob and the faint creak of hinges and guessed that Oscar was opening the door to show him his present. “I didn‟t want you seeing your present if you parked in the garage.” “What the hell is it that you could only fit it in the garage?” Noah‟s heard his voice go up almost an octave, quite curious to find out what this present could be. “Open!” Noah opened his eyes and waited for them to adjust. He looked around for a few seconds and then realized that the present wasn‟t in the garage; the present was the garage. “You moved a bunch of stuff from the other side of the garage.” It wasn‟t a question, and Noah knew he‟d guessed correctly by the flush creeping up Oscar‟s beautiful face. Noah launched himself at the taller man and wrapped his arms around his neck. “I love it. And I love you for doing this.” Noah turned around and looked at the space. “You made room for my car,” Noah said, his voice a mixture of surprise and love. Oscar reached beside him and hit a button, the garage door groaning into action and lifting to reveal Noah‟s car out on the street. “Supposed to rain tonight,” Oscar said as he stepped into the empty 148

A Still, Small Voice space and reached into his pocket to retrieve Noah‟s car keys. “I stole them out of your jeans,” he explained as he waited for Noah to go and drive his car into the garage. With the garage closed and Noah still shaking his head at how thoughtful and touching such a simple gesture could be, they sat at the kitchen table, enjoying some ice cream and cookies. “Stay here,” Noah commanded when he‟d finished his dessert. Oscar did as he was told, and Noah went to the master bedroom and rummaged around in his duffle bag. He found the plain box wrapped in a simple blue paper and headed back out to the kitchen. He placed the box in front of Oscar, who looked at it, then at Noah, then back at the blue box. He picked it up and shook it. Noah couldn‟t help but wonder why some people insisted on shaking presents. He watched as Oscar slowly removed the paper, trying not to rip it, he supposed. Oscar‟s smile grew as the paper was put aside and he examined the thin, square box. Noah had had the little wooden box lying around in his apartment for years, never throwing it away in the event of just such an occasion. Noah was growing impatient for Oscar to open the box, but he said nothing, not wanting to spoil Oscar‟s “process” of appreciating and then opening the box. When he did open the box, Noah relished the slow, sincere laugh that escaped from Oscar‟s lips. “Coupons,” Oscar stated as he took out the little booklet and flipped through it. “Free yard work, free batches of cookies, free inventory help,” Oscar recited as he read the “value” of each coupon, laughing even harder as he got to the last one. “Five free back rubs!” Oscar put the coupons back in the box and eyed Noah suspiciously, his smile alleviating any sense of worry on Noah‟s part. “I, uh, didn‟t see one in there for what I really wanted.” “That,” Noah said as he got up and moved to sit on Oscar‟s lap, “you get anytime you want. No coupon necessary.”

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D.W. Marchwell “Really?” Oscar seemed surprised, and Noah felt as if he‟d missed something. “You‟ll sing for me whenever I want?” Noah slapped at the strong chest and tried to get up, but Oscar held him fast. “I‟m just teasing you, baby. You‟re what I want, all the time.” Noah settled against his lover and leaned forward for a kiss, tasting chocolate and vanilla but preferring the taste of Oscar much more.

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Chapter Fifteen

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TEN minutes past noon, Noah closed the door to his office and twisted the little plastic wand that would close his blinds. It wasn‟t a common occurrence, but it certainly wouldn‟t have anyone asking what he was doing. And even if they did, he already had a lie prepared. He would simply tell them that he was catching up on some work while having lunch in his office instead of telling them the real reason: he was doing a little bit of sleuthing on finding out Timmy‟s last name, as well as any other information he could.

He started with the school‟s website, hoping that—as had always been the case—the school was so far behind in updating it that there would still be old newsletters or articles or even meeting minutes listing the name of the DARE liaison. It was a long shot, but Noah figured it could yield another step, because he was pretty sure that there would be no information about Officer Timmy on the police department‟s website. He did his best to get the chow mein into his mouth with his left hand while scrolling through pages and pages of articles and parent communications and newsletters on the school‟s website. Noah was stunned to come across Timmy‟s surname after only five minutes. At this rate, he thought to himself, I might get to leave early. Oscar had decided to cash in one of his coupons tomorrow night, so Noah would have to go to the grocery store if Oscar was going to get his peanut butter cookies. Timmy Gaut. Noah honestly couldn‟t remember if he ever knew the officer‟s last name while he‟d been a teacher at the school, but he 151

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would never forget that smug face. Unfortunately for Noah, the article listed his title and showed a picture of the grinning officer sitting among a group of elementary-aged students, all of them proudly showing their DARE T-shirts. Noah pulled up the Google page and entered in the first and last name, substituting Tim for Timmy, hit enter, and found next to nothing. Noah knew he wouldn‟t hit on anything professional, since the police department probably did their best to prevent angry criminals from seeking their own form of justice against the cops they didn‟t like. But he did think he stood a good chance of there being some sort of Facebook entry or marriage announcement or something that would contain those two names. Noah tried entering the names with and without quotation marks, but he found nothing at all. He thought that might actually be a good thing, finished his lunch, and went back to catching up on his work. He gave little thought to Tim Gaut over the next five hours until he was entering his building and saw Paul‟s door open again and a pile of moving boxes piled up outside the door. He hadn‟t noticed a moving truck out back, which was where they were supposed to park, the huge warehouse door providing much better access for larger items. Figuring that Paul must have parked out front, Noah wondered if he was moving again. Did he and Cherie get back together? Why would Paul be moving if he‟d just painted his son‟s room? As he walked to the door of his own loft, he heard the front entrance door open, followed by someone whistling. He turned quickly and saw none other than Tim Gaut juggling more boxes, his eyes on the top of the pile in his hands. Noah looked down at his key, turned his head slightly to the left, and got his door open as quickly as possible. If Paul was moving out again, it would make sense that his friend was helping him, but it didn‟t make sense that Tim was bringing boxes into the building. Is Tim moving in with Paul? It seemed like a rather ridiculous idea, since Paul‟s unit was only a two bedroom. If his son was getting a fresh paint job in his own room, then where was Tim going to sleep?

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A Still, Small Voice Once inside the safety of his loft, Noah thought about Oscar‟s crazy idea that Paul and Tim were lovers—or ex-lovers—and that Tim had somehow pressured Paul into ignoring the truth about Noah so that he could continue the affair—and his plans to marry Cherie—and no one would suspect a thing. The idea had seemed so far-fetched that Noah had found himself laughing at the notion, pointing out the dozen or so flaws in that theory. Oscar, to his everlasting credit, had reminded Noah that many things in life were never what they seemed and that the far-fetched ideas were sometimes the only ones that made sense. Noah couldn‟t wait to tell Oscar that he might very well have been right about this particular theory. Noah wouldn‟t be seeing Oscar again until tomorrow night, so he made a hasty plan to “lose” something in the hallway tonight so he could go out and learn more. He wouldn‟t actually listen at the door, but if he happened to hear something as he searched for the lost object, no one would think he was eavesdropping. It wasn‟t that Noah was curious about who Paul might or might not be fucking anymore. Noah didn‟t care about that at all; he had Oscar now, and Oscar was a better lover—and friend—than Paul had ever been. No, it was more that Noah loved a good mystery, and he was bound and determined to seek some answers he should have started looking for six years ago. So with his dastardly plan almost complete, Noah made himself some dinner, took a quick shower, and settled in to watch some television. He could have been doing something more important, like checking his e-mail or balancing his checkbook, but he wanted a night off from his never-ending list of chores. So he parked himself on the sofa, turned on the television, and picked a channel, ready to catch up on some of the shows he hadn‟t watched in at least a month. Four hours later, Noah awoke with a start when he heard a banging sound in the hallway. Out of habit, he jumped up and headed to the peephole to see what was going on. The moving was still in progress outside of Paul‟s apartment, except now Tim and Paul were lugging in weights and a weight bench. The equipment was all sitting in the hall as Paul and Tim grabbed pieces and headed inside. 153

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Where the hell are they going to put all that? Noah found himself wondering whether Paul‟s loft was bigger than his when he saw both men end up in the hallway together. He was about to go back to the sofa when he saw the time on the clock that was hanging in the foyer of his own loft. It was ten in the evening. He was momentarily distracted by the fact that he‟d been sleeping for the last four hours, but then he heard Paul‟s booming laugh coming from the hallway. He looked through the peephole, and his eyes bugged out of his head. “Remind me to be out of the house when you work out,” Paul laughed as he pushed Tim‟s hands away from his crotch. “Otherwise, you‟re gonna fuck me into an early grave.” “Paulie, keep your voice down. The neighbors.” Noah would never forget that voice, Officer Tim‟s voice, calling him all sorts of names. On impulse, Noah grabbed his phone, his original intention to make a recording to play back for Oscar. But as he continued to listen and record—well, eavesdrop, actually—Noah figured out another potential use for the recording. “There are only three lofts down here. Jenny‟s a nurse and is working the graveyard shift. Don‟t you remember her telling us yesterday? And the guy in that unit… haven‟t seen him in days.” Why didn’t Paul call me by name? Noah wondered. Then he realized the talking had stopped. He looked through the peephole and waited for the two of them to return to the hallway. He didn‟t have to wait long. “You think this will cause problems when Cherie finds out?” “What‟s to find out?” Paul was hefting another armload of free weights. “We‟ve made the third bedroom look like yours, Artie is in the second bedroom… what can she say?” Well, Noah thought, that takes care of that question. So Paul‟s loft had three bedrooms. Noah figured they couldn‟t be very big. “Besides,” Paul continued, his voice certain and the look on his face quite self-assured, “once this lawyer I‟ve hired gets enough 154


witnesses to testify to how crazy she is, threatening me, using Artie as a weapon, I don‟t think she‟ll have any clout left to tell me how to do anything anymore.” “You didn‟t have to stay married to her for so long,” Tim said and disappeared into the apartment with Paul. They came back out a few moments later for the last of the equipment. “Yeah, probably still be married to her if she hadn‟t started asking too many questions about us hanging out together all the time.” “Well,” Tim said, hoisting the last set of free weights, “thank God she‟s out of our lives, more or less.” “And God help us if she ever finds out she was just—” A beard, Noah thought as he heard Paul‟s door shut. Holy. Mother. Of. God. It was like some sort of soap opera! Noah stopped recording and ran to his phone to call Oscar, his heart practically beating out of his chest. Oscar picked up on the third ring. “Oscar,” Noah whispered into the phone. “Noah? I can barely hear you. What‟s wrong?” “Nothing. Can I come over?” “Of course,” Oscar said, his voice sounding halting and confused. “I‟ll see you in a bit.” Noah said good-bye and hung up his landline phone. Until he downloaded the recording onto his computer—or better yet, Oscar‟s computer—he wouldn‟t take the chance of doing anything to lose the unexpected confession.

OSCAR sat across from Noah, the cell phone in between them, and stared, mouth agape. “Holy shit!” “I know,” Noah said, his own face probably still showing his shock. 155

D.W. Marchwell “You need to take this to Cherie‟s lawyer.” “Why?” “Because….” Noah waited for Oscar‟s answer, his eyes focused squarely on the handsome face. “Even if what you say about her is true, and she‟s the biggest bitch to walk the face of the earth, she‟s still gotta be a better parent than either of those men could be.” “I hadn‟t thought about that,” Noah confessed. “I hadn‟t thought much past this explaining why Paul wouldn‟t help me.” Oscar nodded and reached out to take Noah‟s hand. “This,” he said, looking down at the phone, “is a lot bigger than just you now.” Noah didn‟t say anything, his mind awash with conflicting thoughts. He hated Cherie with a passion, hated what Paul had done to him, but his mind was at peace about all of that now. This one recording gave Noah all the answers he‟d ever been looking for. But what Oscar was saying was true, as well. Cherie was just as much a victim of Paul‟s deception as Noah had been. She‟d trusted him, and he‟d betrayed her as well. “Baby,” Oscar said quietly after a few minutes, “Paul wants to use you to make Cherie look as if she‟s an unfit mother, or, at least a mother with questionable grounds for wanting to limit Paul‟s access.” “But what if it‟s because she suspects Paul and Tim were more than just friends.” Noah pointed at the phone. “What if it‟s just because she thinks he‟s gay. I mean, she‟s no real friend to gays. She even—” “I don‟t think that matters here, Noah.” Oscar stroked the back of Noah‟s hand. “He‟s not being honest and he‟s not fighting fair. He‟s using you to perpetuate a lie.” “I told lies about having been married and about having had girlfriends,” Noah argued.

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A Still, Small Voice “But you didn‟t do it for any reason other than to protect your privacy, to stop people from focusing on your sex life and concentrate on your abilities as a teacher.” Noah fell silent again. Oscar was right, as usual. Noah would have to make sure that Cherie‟s lawyer heard this recording. Perhaps Noah would go and consult a lawyer of his own, just to be sure that he wasn‟t putting himself—or Oscar—in any danger, legal or otherwise. Noah wasn‟t filthy rich, but he was rich enough that suing him might seem attractive to either Paul or Tim. Noah sat back in his chair and smiled at Oscar. “You‟re a very wise man, Oscar Reynolds.” “You‟re just figuring that out?” “I guess I‟ll contact a lawyer and follow his advice.” Noah picked up his phone and turned it off. He rose out of the chair and walked to the door that led to the garage. Oscar had been waiting for him, garage door open, so that Noah could use his anniversary present. The gesture still made Noah smile whenever he realized that his loft was not the only piece of real estate that he thought of as home. “Where do you think you‟re going?” Noah stopped, his feet halfway to his clogs. “Home,” Noah said. “You come all the way over here and you think I‟m going to let you leave?” Oscar wrapped his arms around Noah and pulled him back toward the kitchen. “Don‟t make me get the coupons.” Noah laughed and followed Oscar to the bedroom. “You don‟t need coupons for that, remember?” “No, but I need one for a back rub, right?” “Well,” Noah said as they reached the bed and he pushed Oscar playfully onto it, “I guess I should give you a free sample. In the interest of helping you make an informed decision.” “That does sound fair.” Oscar smiled as he sat up and removed his T-shirt, while Noah went in search of the massage oil. Oscar turned over and Noah climbed on the bed, straddling the slim hips.

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D.W. Marchwell “And because we really want your business, we would also like to offer you a complimentary front rub.” Noah poured some oil in his hands, delighting in the laugh that made Oscar‟s bubble butt bounce up against Noah‟s groin. “Is there such a thing?” “We offer a very specialized service,” Noah deadpanned. “We‟re very cutting edge.” “How could I possibly turn that down, then?” Noah continued to rub his hands together, heating up the oil, although he was pretty sure the human torch would heat the oil up in no time. He placed his hands at the center of Oscar‟s broad back and pressed firmly, pushing his hands out diagonally, then pulling them back in, pressing only his fingertips against the soft skin. Oscar moaned and Noah could feel him relax his muscles. “Like that, baby?” Oscar pushed his ass into Noah‟s groin again and groaned. “Me like.” “I‟ll have to be sure that‟s part of the advertising. Let us bring out your inner caveman.” Oscar laughed again. “Does the comedy routine cost extra?” “For you? Absolutely nothing.” “Hmmm,” Oscar moaned as Noah continued his slow push-andpull strokes. “You‟re going to make me fall asleep.” “Shall I stop?” “No!” Oscar tried shaking his head but couldn‟t. “If you do fall asleep, you can wake me up early in the morning to give me my tip,” Noah whispered near Oscar‟s ear. “Don‟t you mean my tip?” Noah slapped playfully at the soft skin of his lover‟s back. “You‟re developing quite a knack for innuendo, you know.”

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A Still, Small Voice “You‟re a bad influence on me. My parents will be horrified.” Noah removed his own T-shirt and leaned forward, his chest hair tickling Oscar‟s back. “I love you,” he whispered against his ear. He sat back upright and continued his massage until he felt Oscar‟s back muscles flex and strain. Oscar turned on his side, as far as he was able, and got one arm around Noah‟s waist, pulling him down onto the mattress. Oscar pulled Noah against his warm body and kissed him, his tongue seeking its partner immediately. Noah kissed him back passionately until he felt himself growing uncomfortably hard. “I‟m sorry, sir, but we don‟t offer that service at this establishment,” Noah teased as he tried to push Oscar onto his back. “How about if I let you use the whole garage?” Noah made a show of considering the trade and then shook his head. “How about another weekend in Jasper when this whole lawyer mess is over and done?” “You‟ve got yourself a deal,” Oscar said with a grin. “Now, shut up and kiss me.” Noah was only too happy to oblige, pressing their lips together as he felt Oscar‟s erection straining against the well-worn sweatpants. He reached down and slipped his hand under the waistband, finding the hot, silky cock with no trouble at all. Noah moved his thumb slowly back and forth over the slit. Oscar‟s mouth came off of his, his breathing labored, his forehead pressed to Noah‟s. “Drive me insane when you do that, baby.” “You don‟t even have to be in the room to do that to me, Oscar.” Noah reached down to the base of the long, thick cock and pulled slowly toward the head, Oscar‟s tongue coming out of his mouth. It was Noah who whimpered next when Oscar did that thing that drove Noah right out of his skin. They flicked their tongues together, outside of their mouths, back and forth as Noah continued his long, slow strokes over Oscar‟s prick. “Shall I keep going?” 159

D.W. Marchwell “Sixty-nine?” Oscar suggested. “You on top?” “With pleasure, sir.” Noah pushed himself off the bed and immediately turned to pull off Oscar‟s socks and sweatpants. When he was done, Oscar pulled him onto the bed and then returned the favor, making short work of ridding Noah of his socks, jeans, and boxers. Oscar stretched himself out on his back and watched as Noah positioned himself. Before Noah could even think about leaning forward, Oscar wrapped his forearms around Noah‟s thighs and pulled him down onto his face, his tongue darting out immediately to lick and kiss Noah‟s hole. Noah leaned forward a little bit to give Oscar better access and found it was the perfect position for continuing with the front rub. He rubbed his hands together and then began to caress Oscar‟s pecs and abs, stopping every so often when the sensations that his lover was creating at his hole made him lose all focus. After what seemed like hours, Noah felt Oscar pushing against his ass, and then a gentle hand took hold of his stiff dick. As he leaned forward to begin the process of working Oscar‟s enormous length and girth into his mouth and throat, Noah felt his cock disappear into the moist, wet heat of Oscar‟s very eager mouth. As his lover upped the ante by inserting a finger into his very relaxed hole, Noah pressed his forehead against Oscar‟s belly and tried to concentrate on pleasing his man. With a practiced skill that was becoming like second nature, Noah relaxed his throat and took half of Oscar‟s length into his mouth, coming up for air after a few moments, teasing the slit with his tongue. He moved his hands so that they were between Oscar‟s ass and the bed, squeezing and encouraging Oscar to move. With that finger in his ass and that mouth on his cock, Noah knew he wouldn‟t last too much longer. He felt Oscar slowly squeeze his muscled ass, and relaxed his throat, feeling more and more of it pass into the back of his throat as he reached under Oscar‟s beautiful ass to press and probe against his hole. When he felt Oscar‟s legs begin to move away from each other, Noah moved his hands to push them even farther apart. While one hand returned to press inside of Oscar‟s heat, the other fondled and massaged 160

A Still, Small Voice his balls. Noah continued to slather the entire length of his lover‟s cock with saliva, his head bobbing up and down in contrast to Oscar‟s gentle thrusts. He heard the familiar whimpers and prepared himself by pulling off and bringing one hand to pump up and down, stopping occasionally to thumb the slit. Noah said the word “soon,” and Oscar pulled out and did the same with Noah‟s cock, alternating long, slow pulls with fast, frenzied pumping. Within a few seconds, their cries were mixed together as each man rode out his orgasm, their bodies covered in milky liquid. Noah rolled onto his side, and Oscar reversed his position so that they were eye to eye again. They held each other, their lips and tongues moving against each other slowly as they both came down. When their breathing was more relaxed, Noah pulled his head away slightly and pouted. “Does this mean I don‟t get my morning tip?” Oscar laughed and rolled off the bed, holding out his hand. “Shut up and come have a shower.”

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Chapter Sixteen

THE recording came to an end. Noah stopped biting his thumbnail and looked nervously at the lawyer sitting across from him at the small conference table. He‟d contacted this lawyer the day after Oscar had convinced him that he needed to do something with it. It had taken about ten minutes for Noah to fill the lawyer in on all of the details that had led to the recorded message they‟d just listened to. Noah watched with rapt attention as the lawyer took a deep breath. “In Canada, recording a conversation that you were not part of is illegal,” the lawyer said, clicking his gold and mahogany pen. “There‟s no way this conversation could be of any use to an attorney representing the ex-wife.” Noah had intentionally not used any names—first or last—when recounting the story, referring to all of the parties involved by a description of their job or role in the events. “So there‟s no way of… helping… of letting the wife or her lawyer know the truth?” The lawyer stopped clicking his pen, leaned forward slightly, and fixed Noah with a stare and a sly smile. “All I can tell you is that this conversation won‟t be of any assistance to you or the wife. And I can also tell you this—a recorded conversation, in order to be legal, has to have the consent of only one of the participants in said conversation.” Noah tilted his head and frowned, wondering how that last piece of information would help him. This conversation hadn‟t involved Noah; he hadn‟t been a part of it. He watched the lawyer lean back in the comfortable chair, pick up the pen, and begin clicking again. “This 162

A Still, Small Voice conversation,” the lawyer had said. Noah wondered why the lawyer had put emphasis of the word this. Suddenly, it dawned on him. He regarded the lawyer with a smile and opened his mouth to speak. “So then I guess it was a real shame that I couldn‟t have inserted myself into the conversation somehow.” “That is a shame,” the lawyer said, his smile growing. “If I may ask you one more hypothetical question, sir?” Noah didn‟t wait for an answer. “If someone were to engage the teacher in a conversation that would reveal the same information… and if this someone had no problem with the conversation being recorded… that recording would be legal?” “Hypothetically speaking… yes.” The lawyer dropped his pen back onto the pad of paper that rested on the table and stood up. “If you have your ticket from the parking garage, I‟ll have it validated for you on the way out.” Noah stood up, pocketed his phone, and followed the lawyer out to the front desk. He thanked the lawyer for his time, shook his hand, and declined the validation when the tall red-headed receptionist asked him for his parking garage stub. What an interesting line of work, Noah thought as he headed to the elevators, spending your days trying to interpret and read between the lines like that. Noah was quite certain he would never want to be involved in that line of work, but he did find it quite fascinating. Noah pushed the button for the elevator, looked around to see he was alone, and pulled out his cell phone, dialing Oscar‟s work number. “Oscar Reynolds.” “Yes, Mr. Reynolds, this is Noah from The Happy Joy Massage Center. It would seem that you overpaid during your last visit, and I will need to bring you your change.” “Well, that is good news,” Oscar said, and Noah could just see him leaning back in his chair and smiling. “Perhaps I could just come by… for another massage? Seems much easier than dealing with credits and issuing refunds.” 163

D.W. Marchwell “Very good, sir.” Noah was trying not to laugh, enjoying the flirting a little too much. “Did you have any particular masseur in mind?” “I really enjoyed the last massage I received… but I can‟t seem to remember the very handsome gentleman‟s name.” “That would have been me, sir.” “What time are you free tonight, then, Noah?” “I have two openings tonight, Mr. Reynolds.” Noah heard the ding of the elevator, and then the doors were opening. The lobby of this particular high rise was filled with people of all sorts, but Noah didn‟t feel like ending the call or the flirting. “Perhaps you‟d like both? Why don‟t you come by about eight this evening, and I‟ll see if I can fit you in.” “You‟re shameless,” Oscar said with a laugh. “I can hear all of that noise around you and you‟re still going to keep up with this wanton flirting?” “Of course,” Noah answered, laughing himself. “I doubt anyone is paying much attention to me anyway.” “I find that hard to believe. I mean, how many specimens of a perfectly rounded, firm ass are there in the world?” “Besides yours?” Noah figured Oscar was blushing right about now. “I can almost hear you blushing, baby.” Noah switched the phone to his other ear as he headed out to the street and to the parking garage to find his car. “I do want you to come over tonight. I think I might have just come up with a plan for how to deal with the recording.” “Sounds good to me. I‟ll go home and get a bag and see you between seven and eight.” Noah was about to hang up when he heard Oscar‟s voice again. “Oh, Noah?” “I‟m still here,” Noah said as he stood outside the parking garage, not wanting to take a chance that the call would be dropped inside all of that concrete. 164

A Still, Small Voice “This plan of yours? It‟s not going to put you in any danger, is it?” “No,” Noah said, his voice certain but soothing. “Because you‟ll be there too.”

“SO THE recording on your phone is useless, but if you engage Paul and or Tim in a conversation about what you heard, that would be legal?” “I know, confusing, right?” “What if they decide to get revenge somehow?” “What could they possibly do? I mean, they‟d be in enough trouble already because of Cherie‟s lawyer, so doing anything about this would be… stupid.” Oscar sat across the kitchen table from Noah and shook his head. “I don‟t know. It sounds a little hinky to me. Sounds like it could lead to you being harassed, threatened, even, or your car vandalized or….” Oscar just shrugged. “That‟s why you‟ll be standing just inside the door here. If you think anything is going wrong, you can just come out and get me as if I have a phone call or something.” “Lucky for you I studied karate,” Oscar said, taking his hand between his own. “You‟re just lucky for me, period.” Noah knew that Paul was currently on summer vacation, and was trying his best to figure out his schedule. If he could just figure out when Paul would be home without Tim being beside him, then he could confront Paul about what he‟d heard. Noah wouldn‟t have to worry about their discussion being sidetracked by the self-absorbed cop; he could keep the conversation short and sweet and be back inside his loft before Paul suspected anything at all.

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As Noah prepared himself to go across the hall to see if Paul was home, Oscar took his spot near the door, his own cell phone in his hand as a backup. Noah took a quick kiss and then headed out into the hallway, leaving his own door open. He paused halfway down the hall and checked his own cell phone for the fiftieth time. He was wearing a pair of those handyman jeans that had the pockets covering the thigh and a loop-type thing for a hammer. His own cell phone was stuffed into one of those pockets, Oscar and Noah having tested it out earlier. Paul would have to stand no more than two feet away for the microphone on the cell phone to pick anything up and for the quality of the recording to be clear and easy to understand. Noah approached Paul‟s door, knocked, and then made a deliberate show of pacing out near the center of the hallway. If Paul came out to speak with him, Noah would ask to speak to him out in the hallway. It was the only way the conversation had any hope of being picked up by Oscar‟s cell phone. Noah heard the deadbolt click and then he saw Paul. Noah backed up toward the center of the hallway. “Noah? What can I do for you?” “I need to talk to you about something, Paul.” Noah had his hands in his pockets, afraid that if he kept them out he would start wringing them together and show Paul that he was nervous about something. “Sure, come on in,” Paul said, his smile a little too solicitous. “No thanks, I‟d prefer to stay out here. What I have to talk to you about… well, you‟ll understand why I don‟t want to be in your loft.” “Okay,” Paul said, his smile fading as he advanced to stand out in the hallway. “What‟s this about?” “I heard you and your friend—the cop—last night when you were taking the weights into your loft.” Noah took a deep breath, hoping Paul would not interrupt. “I was on my way out,” Noah lied, “when I heard my name and what your relationship is to… Timmy, I think you said his name was. Anyway, I heard enough to realize that you could have done something to help me all those years ago, but you chose to report it anyway.” Noah studied Paul‟s face for a few seconds and continued. “You didn‟t help me because you had something to hide 166

A Still, Small Voice yourself, didn‟t you? You didn‟t want anyone finding out that you and Timmy were involved, did you?” Noah took another deep breath. “How could you do that to me, Paul?” Noah watched the expression on Paul‟s face change to one of… what? Guilt? Shame? “I never did anything to you but help you, and you threw me to the wolves just to save your own ass. That‟s what you meant when you told me that things aren‟t always what they appear, isn‟t it?” “Noah, I… I….” Paul stopped talking and shrugged his shoulders. “What do you want me to say? That I‟m an asshole for reporting you instead of telling them that you couldn‟t possibly have done it? I didn‟t have a choice, Noah.” “We always have choices, Paul.” Noah shook his head, the disgust probably quite plain on his face. “What about Cherie? Didn‟t she deserve better?” “We both got what we wanted out of the marriage,” Paul said, shrugging again. “She wanted a husband and a kid, and I tried to give that to her—” “While sleeping with Timmy?” “I think we‟ve already established that I‟m an asshole, Noah, but what you don‟t understand is that Timmy and me? We couldn‟t risk the ridicule and the problems if we‟d tried to live out in the open.” “So Cherie and I were nothing more than a little extracurricular activity? Does he even know that you slept with me?” “I told him,” Paul admitted. “Before or after he arrested me and paraded me through the halls in handcuffs?” “What does it matter, Noah? You were offered your old job back, but you refused it. Everything would have gone back to normal.” Noah shook his head again, not quite believing what he was hearing. All this time he‟d thought that Paul was a victim, a pawn in all of this. Noah thought about his final question. He opened his mouth to speak. “Does Cherie know that she was nothing more than a convenient excuse for you?” 167

D.W. Marchwell “For a while, I honestly thought it could work out with Cherie, but….” “She figured out you‟d been lying to her, didn‟t she? It‟s why she doesn‟t want you around your son.” It wasn‟t a question but a statement of fact. Noah knew that Paul had just used her as he had used Noah. “She‟ll get over it,” Paul said, not really admitting anything. “For the past six years, I always thought if I could just figure out why you‟d done it, why you‟d treated me like that, that it would help me feel better,” Noah said, shaking his head and looking at Paul through narrowed eyes. “But I actually feel worse right now. I actually feel sorry for Cherie.” “Look, I‟m sorry that you were hurt in all of this, Noah, but you are the one who made this whole thing much worse than it ever had to be.” “What the hell does that mean?” Noah heard the disbelief in his own voice. “The way you push the students, the way they all have to do exactly what you say—” “So this is my fault because I wouldn‟t ignore school rules and let Skyler do whatever the hell she wanted?” “Those are your words, not mine,” Paul said with a sigh. “But so you ignore a few broken rules every now and then. So what?” “And how the hell do you think Skyler turned out the way she did?” Noah shook his head, realizing he‟d allowed himself to be sidetracked. “Whatever,” he spat at Paul. “I‟m not about to take teaching advice from someone like you.” Noah took a breath and let it out slowly. “And Cherie? What about her? She trusted you, probably even loved you, and you lied to her. The entire time you were married to her, you were….” Noah shook his head, suddenly feeling like he needed a shower. “I probably wasn‟t the only one, was I? The only time you cheated on Timmy? I‟d be willing to bet that there‟ve been others. I wonder what he‟d say when he finds out that you‟ve been using him too.” 168

A Still, Small Voice “I love him,” Paul said, his voice full of conviction. “He probably suspects. And for all I know, he‟s been doing the same thing.” Noah shook his head, a small, humorless laugh escaping. “That‟s really sad, Paul. Really sad,” he said, repeating himself. He turned and headed back to his own loft. “Just out of curiosity, Paul,” Noah said, his hand reaching inside of the door and finding Oscar‟s waiting for him. “Was it your idea or Timmy‟s to lie about all of this? To protect yourselves by ruining two innocent, unsuspecting lives?” “It was both of us, I guess.” “And what about Skyler? Did you use her, or was that just a happy coincidence?” Paul shrugged, and Noah didn‟t need any further clarification. After a moment, Paul said, his demeanor seeming somewhat contrite for the first time, “I saw a chance to have everything turn out my way… and… I took it.” Noah nodded and said nothing further, walking into his loft and closing the door. Oscar tugged on the hand he still held, and Noah went willingly into the open arms. “What a twisted, fucked-up way to live.” Oscar kissed the side of Noah‟s head. “Come on,” Oscar said as he led Noah to the bedroom. “Looks like you need the massage more than I do.”

OSCAR was thorough in his massage, not missing one square inch of Noah‟s willing body. After almost thirty minutes, Noah felt like he was nothing more than gelatin, ready to slide off the bed in all directions. When he was finished, Oscar made no move toward lovemaking but lay beside Noah, kissing his shoulders and neck. “How are you feeling about everything now?” Noah took a deep breath and turned on his side. He was naked, but Oscar wasn‟t, yet. Noah wasn‟t sure whether it was just Oscar or the fact that Oscar was still clothed that he found so erotic. All he knew 169

D.W. Marchwell was that he never wanted to let go of this man. “I don‟t know. I thought I could let it all go so much more easily if I knew the reason. But….” Noah shrugged and pushed his lips to Oscar‟s. “Thank you for the massage.” “Anytime, baby. No coupons needed.” “You‟re amazing,” Noah said with a huge smile. “Not as amazing as you, my little private detective.” Noah scooted closer to Oscar‟s body, both of them lying on their sides. “I guess I‟ll have to put the loft on the market now.” “Why?” “Once I turn that recording into Cherie‟s attorney, I don‟t fancy my chances of not becoming a target for Mr. Policeman across the hall.” “Well, if you do decide to sell, make sure you get a temporary place. Just in case, you know, I manage to find more space for you later, down the road.” Noah smiled at the meaning behind the words. “Yeah?” “Yeah,” Oscar said, stealing a quick kiss. “You‟d better make sure that you‟ve used up all your coupons by then.” “Why‟s that?” “Well, if I‟m living with you, all of those things become part of my duties, so the coupons will be null and void.” “I see,” Oscar said, nodding his head in understanding. “Then I have, what, maybe six months, a year to use them all up?” “I‟d have to check the fine print again, but those figures sound about right to me.” “And you won‟t miss this place?” “No,” Noah sighed as he pushed Oscar onto his back and climbed up to rest on top. “This building is going to the dogs.” 170


Chapter Seventeen

NOAH looked over at Cherie, her face pale and her normally hard features softened as she listened to the recording of her husband admitting to not only infidelity but to having planned the entire charade. Noah doubted that he and Cherie would ever bond over this or that they would ever speak again, but he understood what she was going through. After all, Paul had used both of them. “Turn it off,” Cherie said suddenly. “I don‟t want to hear any more.” She stood and went to stand at the large window in the lawyer‟s office, gazing at what, precisely, Noah didn‟t know. “I‟m not taking any sides here,” Noah said, turning to look at the lawyer. “But when I heard what Paul and Tim had planned, I couldn‟t sit by and watch him call Cherie‟s parenting skills into question.” “Is this the original recording?” The lawyer held up the cell phone. Noah nodded. “We‟ll have to keep this, then. Copies aren‟t as good to have as the original, you see.” “That‟s fine,” Noah replied and reached into the pocket of his cargo shorts. “I‟ve already bought another one. You can keep it as long as you need it.” “And to think I called you those names when I saw you in the hallway that day.” It was Cherie‟s voice now, low and hushed, as if the words of the recording had sucked all the energy out of her. Noah supposed they probably had.

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D.W. Marchwell “He played both of us, Cherie.” Noah stood up from the table and offered his hand to the lawyer. “I‟m just glad that the truth is finally out. Although I‟m sure I‟m happier about that than you.” “Wayne? Could I have a moment alone with Noah?” Noah saw the lawyer nod and exit his office, leaving Noah alone with Cherie. She walked back to the table and sat down, the fingers of her right hand worrying the wedding ring on the left. “I apologize, Noah.” “Don‟t worry about it, Cherie. I think Paul took advantage of the fact that we never really got along. He used it to his advantage.” Noah sat down again, across from her. “The only thing I still don‟t understand about all of this is why it took you so long to grow suspicious of Paul‟s relationship with Tim.” “I believed him,” Cherie stated flatly. “When he first expressed interest in me—” “He told me that you pursued him,” Noah said, interrupting. “Well, we‟ve already figured out that he‟s a liar, so….” Cherie closed her eyes and continued. “When he first expressed interest in me, he would tell me about his religious family and how it gave him such a grounded upbringing. He wanted to come with me to church. Most other men, when they found out how involved I am in the church, they don‟t really want anything more to do with me. But Paul was different.” Cherie shrugged and stopped fidgeting with her ring. Finally she finished her observations. “He talked about wanting children… how his parents wanted lots of grandchildren.” “He told me his parents were dead.” “I guess I was so convinced that he was my last chance for a husband that I ended up ignoring a lot,” Cherie said, ignoring Noah‟s interruption. “Looking back on it all now, I guess I didn‟t want to see what I knew I was seeing. If that makes any sense.” Noah nodded. He wasn‟t really listening as intently anymore. It seemed obvious now that Cherie wasn‟t really interested in discussing so much as unloading. Noah understood all too well about the need to 172


get it all out of your system. To say something about it all, the hurt, the betrayal, the feeling like a fool. Suddenly, Noah wanted to just get up and leave. He‟d already done all of his unloading already, with the help of Aiden and Oscar. Oscar. Just thinking his name made Noah smile and ache. They‟d been together for six weeks now, and there was absolutely no sign that Oscar had lost interest in him, nor he in Oscar. He loved the man with all of his heart, thought of him as his own personal hero. He‟d helped Noah unselfishly, with no thought of himself. He‟d convinced Noah to do the right thing, to help this poor woman sitting across from him. And Oscar had been right. As usual. “I know you don‟t really understand why I tried to stop those students who wanted to form that gay alliance group in the school.” Noah was back to paying attention. Even though he‟d been in the closet, when he found out that Cherie had rallied against the gaystraight alliance that four students wanted to start at the high school, Noah had had to restrain himself from physically attacking Cherie. She was supposed to talk about it at the staff meeting later that week but had been called away on an “emergency.” After that staff meeting, the issue had never again appeared on any agenda. “What you may not have realized is that three out of the four students who‟d first proposed the idea were quite radical in their thinking.” Noah remained silent, waiting to hear that Cherie‟s idea of radical was that the students wanted the bullying and the ignorant remarks dealt with. “They only seemed to be interested in singling out certain students. They talked endlessly about how they could get this student or that student if they had the backing of the counseling department and the administration.” “Would that have been so wrong, Cherie?” “No, I suppose not, but I had to follow my conscience. As you did today.” Cherie was back to fiddling with her wedding ring. “No matter what I suggested about media campaigns to raise awareness or some of them brainstorming ideas as to how we could educate and not retaliate, 173

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they would make remarks that frightened me. As a guidance counselor, I‟m responsible for looking out for all of the students, not just the ones who‟re interested in getting back at others.” “Fair enough,” Noah said finally. He wasn‟t sure he really believed her, but he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. After all, he was not part of that life anymore. He hadn‟t been for the past six years. It was up to people like Cherie and Paul and Shane and all of the other school staff to right those particular wrongs. He wished them all great success as they continued the battle to instill some sense of honor and respect into this latest generation. It wouldn‟t be easy, but he wished them well nonetheless. He stood up and extended his hand. He wished Cherie well with all sincerity. He wished her the best in her upcoming legal battle. “Take care of your boy, Cherie.” Noah exited the lawyer‟s office, nodded to him, and thought about how strange life was at times. He‟d left a teaching career and thought his life was over at that time. Now, as he left the high-rise office tower and walked down the street to his car, he couldn‟t help but think that his life—in many ways—was just beginning. As he unlocked his car and slid into the driver‟s seat, he made a rather impetuous decision to pay a visit to the man whom Noah regarded as the most important step in his new outlook on life.

NOAH pulled his car into the back alley and parked at the rear entrance to the club, noticing Oscar‟s car. He decided against leaving another note under the windshield wiper and headed inside, greeting the lone bartender on duty at four o‟clock in the afternoon. He silently made his way to Oscar‟s office and found the door slightly ajar. “Hey, handsome,” Noah said, pushing open the door. “Hey yourself,” Oscar said. Noah looked at his handsome face. It lit right up when he walked into the office and sat in front of Oscar‟s desk. “How‟d it go?”

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A Still, Small Voice Noah smiled and nodded. “I think it went very well. Cherie might not actually be the total raving bitch I thought she was. Feel a little guilty about that,” Noah said, slightly embarrassed at having to admit this. “What happens between them now is anybody‟s guess. I just feel sorry for that little boy.” “That,” Oscar said, leaning back in his chair and stretching out his back, “is not up to anybody but the parents.” “Which is why I kind of feel sorry for him.” Noah scrubbed at his face. “Feel kind of sorry for Cherie too. It couldn‟t have been easy to sit there and listen to that conversation.” “Did the lawyer say what might happen to Paul and Tim?” “I didn‟t ask,” Noah said with a smile. “Don‟t really care anymore.” “It‟s really too bad that people feel like they have to hide who they really are.” Oscar leaned forward again and fixed Noah with a sad smile. “That it is,” Noah sighed, bobbing his head in agreement. “So, will I see you later tonight?” “Bag‟s in the car,” Noah said, raising an eyebrow. “That sounds promising. Maybe I‟ll take off early.” “Good,” Noah replied, feeling quite bold all of a sudden. “But I feel like celebrating now,” he said as he stood again and walked to the office door. “What are we celebrating?” “An end,” Noah replied, a lascivious grin spreading across his face. “And a beginning.” Noah shut the office door and locked it. “And I thought we could celebrate both and fulfill a fantasy I‟ve had for quite a while now.” “Uh-huh,” Oscar said as he stood and met Noah by the sofa. “And what would this fantasy involve, exactly?”

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D.W. Marchwell Noah wrapped his arms around Oscar‟s powerful neck and brought their lips together, his tongue touching the full lips. When Oscar opened his mouth, Noah felt their tongues touch, the electricity of the contact shooting straight to his groin. When they both came up for some air, Noah leaned forward and whispered in Oscar‟s ear. “I‟ve always wanted you to fuck my mouth on this sofa.” “You have, have you?” Oscar‟s hands descended to cup Noah‟s ass. “Why am I only hearing about this now?” “Didn‟t want you to compromise your ethical behavior at work,” Noah said seductively, his hands moving to undo the button of Oscar‟s slacks. “Nick‟s the only one in right now. The others aren‟t due for another couple of hours.” Oscar closed his eyes, and his head rolled to the side when Noah‟s hand made contact with his growing erection, the other hand moving around to play with the cleft of his ass. “Which should give us more than enough time to fulfill your fantasy and my fantasy.” “I see. So I‟m not the only one keeping secrets, huh?” Noah took his hands off of Oscar long enough for the taller man to pull his T-shirt off. “What‟s your fantasy?” “I‟ve always wondered what it would be like to throw you on my desk and fuck you until you‟re screaming my name and you come on my monster dick.” Noah shivered at the image that formed in his head and luxuriated in the sensations Oscar‟s hands were causing up and down his spine. “Do you have what we need for your fantasy?” Oscar abandoned him for only a moment, just long enough to open a drawer and produce condoms and lube. “Of course,” Oscar said, returning to Noah, hissing as Noah started to undress him. “I‟ve learned to be prepared when you‟re around.” “I do have impulse control issues when I‟m around handsome men who are hung like horses.”

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Oscar kicked his shoes off as Noah descended to take him in his mouth. Noah sucked and licked at the rapidly filling cock, then moved his head a little lower so that he could nuzzle the soft sac, taking one testicle into his mouth and then nuzzling some more. “Fuck, Noah,” Oscar whispered as his hands stroked over and around Noah‟s head for a few minutes. Oscar reached down and pulled Noah to face him. “Get on the sofa… on your back, head near the middle.” Noah started to comply, but Oscar stopped him and turned him around, his hands snapping open the button of his shorts, pushing them to the floor. “Wanna see you play with yourself while I‟m fucking your mouth.” Noah was sure that, under the right circumstances, Oscar‟s dirty talking could make him come like a geyser. Noah had always been incredibly aroused by smells and touching, but this dirty talk of Oscar‟s was something that turned him on to no end. Noah was laid out on the sofa, and he reached out to stroke Oscar from root to head, thumbing the slit just once. An expression of sheer lust ghosted over Oscar‟s face, and Noah began to play with himself, his eyes never leaving Oscar‟s. Noah watched, completely enraptured, as Oscar straddled him and put his hands on the arm of the sofa as if he were about to do push-ups—which Noah figured he was, in a manner of speaking. Oscar lowered himself down, Noah mesmerized by the sight of Oscar‟s straining muscles and the enormous cock descending toward his mouth. With his free hand, Noah took hold of Oscar‟s erection and licked it, then slapped it against his cheek several times, delighting in the sounds that were emanating from his lover. While he held the cock in his hand, he moved his mouth and tongue to suck and lick on the heavy balls. The smell of Oscar‟s musk was incredible. He inhaled deeply over and over again until he heard Oscar‟s growl. “Wanna fuck your mouth, baby.” Noah took his hand off of Oscar‟s erection and put the head in his mouth, his tongue playing with the sensitive slit while Oscar began to slowly snap his hips up and down. Noah relaxed his throat as each snap 177

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pressed more and more of the monster into his throat, and reached up to grab and knead the globes of his lover‟s perfect ass. Noah glanced up and saw Oscar staring down at him. He spread his legs for Oscar, his fist on his own dick as he pumped and thumbed his own slit. “God, you‟re beautiful,” Oscar groaned as Noah‟s mouth took him almost all the way in. “Sweet, sweet mouth, Noah.” Noah relaxed himself even more, letting the sensations flow through him. He moved one hand to between Oscar‟s cheeks, tapping on and then entering the puckered hole. Oscar groaned a little louder this time as Noah‟s finger sank all the way to massage his prostate. Noah stroked his own dick, tapped Oscar‟s bundle of nerves, slid his teeth gently over the mushroom head of Oscar‟s dick, so lost in pleasure that it took him a while to realize that Oscar had pulled out of his mouth and was standing by the desk, pushing everything out of the way. “Put it on me, baby,” Oscar commanded as he stood with his hips jutting out, his impressive, throbbing cock mere inches from Noah‟s face. “Wanna fuck you on this desk now.” Noah‟s hands trembled at the thought, but he managed to get the condom on Oscar‟s dick. As he positioned himself on the top of the desk, he watched as Oscar lubed and slicked his cock, then reached between Noah‟s legs and did the same for his. “Gonna fuck you and jack you at the same time, baby.” “Oscar,” Noah whimpered as he felt Oscar‟s hand still while he pushed inside. Oscar went far enough, smiling when Noah yelled out. There he stayed, moving back and forth, almost painfully slowly, while the head of his cock passed over Noah‟s prostate over and over again. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” Noah as he reached under his own ass to fondle Oscar‟s low-hanging balls. Oscar‟s only response was to grunt, and thrust, and pump Noah‟s dick. Noah raised his other arm over his head, feeling as if his body was melting. Then Oscar was leaning forward slightly, his free hand trailing over Noah‟s chest, pinching his nipples. Oscar was all the way inside of Noah now, his hips snapping with greater speed. 178


Noah felt the slight pressure against his frenulum and opened his eyes. Oscar‟s impressive physique was covered in a glistening layer of sweat. He reached for Noah and pulled him up so that Noah was sitting on his huge cock. Noah wrapped his arms around the strong shoulders and hung on while Oscar continued to pump into his body. Noah knew he wouldn‟t last much longer. And when Oscar began to lift one thigh and then the other, the sensation of the beautifully long, thick dick seeming to fill him completely, Noah let out a long, slow growl. He felt the tip of his cock rubbing against the soft fur of Oscar‟s firm belly. He threw his head back and screamed Oscar‟s name over and over again as he emptied himself between their two bodies. Noah went limp, his arms loosening their hold on Oscar‟s neck as he rode out his orgasm. He heard Oscar grunt, a primal sound echoing in the room, and then felt the strong arms pull him closer. Noah hung on as Oscar cried out his name, kissing and nipping at Noah‟s neck. Noah put his lips against one ear and whispered words that spoke to his love and affection for this gentle giant. Oscar grunted one final time, and Noah leaned backward, his back and shoulders coming to rest on the surface of the desk while he used his legs, wrapped around his lover‟s waist, to pull him even closer. Oscar pushed his hips forward again and again, making Noah cry out as the glorious feeling of being filled mixed with the overwhelming sight of watching Oscar let go completely. Noah watched as Oscar‟s eyes opened slowly, eventually focusing on his flushed body lying on top of the desk. Noah opened his arms and smiled when his lover fell into them, their sweaty torsos perfectly aligned. Noah put his hands on either side of Oscar‟s handsome face and began placing loving kisses wherever he could reach, laughing when Oscar could only whimper his approval. “Love you, Noah Lowe, love you, love you, love you.” Oscar reached out his hands and placed them on either side of his lover‟s face. “You‟re amazing.”

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D.W. Marchwell “I love you too, Oscar,” Noah said, his smile replaced with a look of utter contentment. “My beautiful, quiet, horny, filthy-mouthed man with a heart of gold.” “I don‟t think I‟ll ever be able to show my face around here again,” Oscar said as he stood momentarily to remove the condom and toss it in the garbage can near his legs. “I‟m sure they probably heard us next door.” “Well, even if they did, you‟re not going to see me embarrassed about it,” Noah said as he sat up and reached out for Oscar. He pulled him close, his hands wandering and skimming all over the sweaty body, unable to get enough of this man. “I‟ll yell it from the stage from now on. „I love Oscar Reynolds and he loves me. Me!‟” “With every fucking fiber of my fucking exhausted body!” Noah laughed and jumped off the desk, pulling Oscar with him as he fell to the sofa. Noah lay beside his man and reached out to continue caressing and stroking. He looked over, finally, quite sure that Oscar would see the mischief in his eyes. “You know,” Noah said in a whisper, “I do have other fantasies about you.” Oscar kissed him gently on the lips and fell back on the sofa, luxuriating in Noah‟s caresses. “Can I rest up first, or do I need to go get some Viagra?” “Baby,” Noah purred, “something tells me you‟ll never need to worry about that.” Noah pushed himself off the sofa and placed himself between Oscar‟s legs, his hands and mouth coaxing Oscar back to life. Oscar sighed and covered his eyes with his forearm. “God help me,” he muttered as he felt his growing erection swallowed by the exquisite heat of Noah‟s mouth.

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Epilogue

NOAH rinsed the glasses and the wine goblets and placed them on the tea towel. He really hadn‟t anticipated so many of his coworkers coming to the housewarming. He figured that everyone from the club that Oscar had invited would show, but his own coworkers? He was touched and somewhat surprised by the support they‟d shown him ever since they‟d discovered that he was gay. It wasn‟t one of Noah‟s major fears, but the need for secrecy he‟d felt during all his years at the high school was a hard habit to break, he‟d discovered. It was Jim, one of the technicians who worked with Noah, who had actually, inadvertently, started the whole ball rolling. He had not in any way outed Noah. It was actually just a small framed photograph that Noah had placed on his desk, near his phone, that had drawn Jim‟s attention when he‟d come in and sat down, prepared to discuss what was wrong with the daemon programming for the investment portfolio self-serve. For some reason, Jim sat in the chair closest to the door, putting him in the line of sight of the small photograph, the photograph that Aiden had taken on the occasion of Oscar and Noah‟s six-month anniversary. Noah was leaning affectionately against Oscar, both men laughing as Noah reached over to kiss his lover‟s rosy cheek. To his credit, Jim made only one comment: “You two look very happy together.” And with that small declaration, Jim went back to discussing the daemon, and Noah‟s secret was out. “Hey, gorgeous.”

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D.W. Marchwell Noah felt Oscar‟s strong arms wrap around his waist, his lips hovering near his ear. “You startled me,” Noah said, his hand reaching up to caress his lover‟s face. “I‟m almost done with the glasses.” “I turned around to plant a big one-year anniversary kiss on you and almost got Aiden instead.” “I don‟t think his husband would have liked that,” Noah said, laughing as Oscar spun him around and kissed him quickly on the lips. Noah brought his hands back up to caress Oscar‟s handsome face. “Happy anniversary, Mr. Reynolds.” “Happy anniversary, Mr. Lowe.” Oscar leaned forward, and this time, the kiss was gentle but insistent. Oscar pulled away and looked into Noah‟s eyes. “Here,” Oscar said as he took up another tea towel and a glass and started drying. “I‟ll help you.” “You should go back out there, mingle with your friends. I‟ll be out there in a couple of minutes.” “I don‟t mind the break, to tell you the truth.” Oscar finished with one glass and took another. “I‟m not a big crowd kind of person. And I thought if I came in here to help, I‟d finally get you all to myself.” “You‟ll be glad to hear that I‟ve reserved some time for you later on tonight,” Noah said as he took up the last glass and leaned in for a quick kiss. “I checked the box the other day,” Oscar said, depositing the dried glasses onto a large teak tray. Noah raised an eyebrow and Oscar finished his thought. “I found another coupon for a back rub.” “I can‟t believe you still have any left.” Noah took up the tray and started for the living room, turning his back so that Oscar wouldn‟t see the stupid grin on his face. “You know,” Oscar said, coming up behind him and kissing his neck, “I could have sworn that they were all gone months ago.” Noah turned his head, and Oscar kissed his cheek. “That is strange.” Noah knew that Oscar had figured it out months ago. “Perhaps the box is magic? New coupons just keep appearing.” 182

A Still, Small Voice “I‟ll buy that,” Oscar said, offering Noah a wink and then taking the tray from him. Noah just stood there, watching his man walk away. Was there anything more beautiful and sensual than a perfect ass in a pair of thin, silky dress pants? Noah had tried to think of something else but always came up with the same answer: Oscar’s ass in dress pants is the only thing that has ever made me lose all focus instantly. He shook his head and followed his lover into their living room. Noah still had trouble thinking of it as theirs. He‟d only been living with Oscar for the past week, but in some ways, it felt like they‟d been living together forever. Of course, that was probably due to the fact that they were rarely apart. Oscar had surprised him at their private celebration of their eleven-month anniversary with a very small box. Noah had opened it to find a set of house keys on a keychain engraved with their initials. Noah had looked into Oscar‟s eyes and seen such love and devotion that he‟d been unable to hold back his tears. Of course they were tears of joy and happiness, but Noah felt as if he‟d ruined Oscar‟s beautiful present. Noah had wasted no time in putting his loft on the market, taking the first offer and arranging for the movers. And on moving day, he‟d even bid farewell to Paul and Tim, wishing them much happiness during their life together. The cycle was complete. Noah had moved into the loft because he couldn‟t imagine living anywhere else. And on moving day, he was leaving because he couldn‟t imagine living there without Oscar. The most surprising development in his relationship with Oscar was the day he realized that he liked the quiet and the solitude of living out in the suburbs. The neighbors, the backyard, the peace and tranquility were just what he needed, just what he wanted now. He headed into the living room and sat beside his best friend, leaning down to accept an affectionate kiss on the cheek from Aiden. “The party is a huge success, sweetums,” Aiden gushed. “I‟m so happy for you, No-uhms.” Noah took Aiden‟s hand and gave it a squeeze. “And I am because of you. You‟re a wonderful matchmaker.” 183

D.W. Marchwell “That is my mission,” Aiden said and turned to look at his husband, Martin. “Everyone should find what we‟ve all found.” “Amen,” Oscar said as he sneaked up behind Noah. Turning to Aiden, Oscar said, “I didn‟t know you set us up.” “I didn‟t. I just happened to mention your name as someone worth getting to know.” “And he was right,” Noah said, wrapping his arm around Oscar. “Now that my work here is done,” Aiden said as he stood and looked at Martin, “we have to get Martin home to bed.” Aiden held out his hand to his husband and looked over at Noah and Oscar. “Martin has a very important meeting tomorrow.” He lowered his voice and darted his eyes between Noah and Oscar. “The bank is making the big announcement tomorrow. Martin is going to be the new Chief Risk Officer.” Aiden looked up at his husband and fairly glowed with pride. “Congratulations, Martin,” Oscar said and stepped forward, his hand extended. “Yes, congratulations,” Noah offered and extended his hand as well. “Thank you,” Martin said as he shook Oscar‟s hand then Noah‟s. “It‟s quite exciting. We‟ll be having a little get-together to celebrate when we get back from Toronto next week. We‟d love it if you‟ll both come.” “Of course they‟ll come,” Aiden said as he leaned forward and kissed Noah and then Oscar. “Thank you, darlings, for a wonderful evening.” Aiden leaned into his husband again and took his hand, turning back to Noah. “I‟ll call you tomorrow.” Noah figured that the phone call would be to tell him that Martin‟s new position meant a move to Toronto. Aiden had been hinting at it for weeks. Noah was still quite conflicted about the whole announcement. He loved seeing Aiden happy and married—something Aiden had sworn would never happen—but he was also going to miss him terribly. As he did with most things, Noah had mentioned his

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suspicions to Oscar, the older man promising frequent visits and plenty of Skype time. They walked Aiden and Martin out to the street and waved goodbye as the car pulled away. “It‟s amazing what changes a year brings.” “It certainly is,” Oscar said as he put his arm around Noah‟s shoulders and kissed his cheek. “Imagine what kind of changes we‟ll see in the next thirty.”

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About the Author

When D.W. MARCHWELL is not teaching future generations the wonders of science, he can usually be found hiking, writing, riding horses, trying new recipes, or searching for and lovingly restoring discarded antique furniture. A goofy and incurable romantic, D.W. admits that his stories are inspired by actual events and that he has a soft spot for those where boy not only meets boy but also turns out to be boy‟s soul mate. After almost fifteen years of working his way across Canada, D.W. has finally found the perfect place to live at the foot of the Canadian Rockies. He still can‟t believe how lucky he is, and, as his grandmother taught him, counts his blessings every day. Visit his web site at http://www.marchwellbooks.ca/. You can contact him at [email protected].

Also from D.W. Marchwell

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com

Also from D.W. Marchwell

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com

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