Man of His Dreams

Man of His Dreams by John Jockel Ravenous Romance www.ravenousromance.com Copyright ©2011 by John Jockel First publis...

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Man of His Dreams by John Jockel

Ravenous Romance www.ravenousromance.com

Copyright ©2011 by John Jockel First published in 2011, 2011 NOTICE: This eBook is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution to any person via email, floppy disk, network, print out, or any other means is a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment. This notice overrides the Adobe Reader permissions which are erroneous. This eBook cannot be legally lent or given to others. This eBook is displayed using 100% recycled electrons.

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CONTENTS Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter

One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty ****

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**** Man of His Dreams by John Jockel A Ravenous Romance(R) Original Publication

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A Ravenous Romance(R) Original Publication www.ravenousromance.com Copyright (C) 2011 by John Jockel Ravenous Romance(R) 100 Cummings Center Suite 123A Beverly, MA 01915 All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in whole or in part without written permission from the publisher, except by reviewers who may quote brief excerpts in connection with a review. ISBN-13: 978-1-60777-432-7 This book is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

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Chapter One This Boy's Life Zach Regan saw his first Matt Maddox movie when he was sixteen, in his home town of Toledo, Ohio. It was Buxom Beach Bunnies, one of those silly movies about horny college guys chasing bikini-clad beach babes on spring break. You know, the kind of movie made for teenage boys, who are supposed to flock to the theaters to see all the babes in bikinis. But Zach couldn't have been less interested in the women. It was the guys, all of them wearing swimsuits, mostly Speedos, that caught his attention. And one guy in particular, a tall, lean, tanned, and dark-haired actor named Matt Maddox, who wore a day-glow pink Speedo. Maddox had piercing blue eyes and a killer smile. He was a bit too old to actually be a college student, but that didn't matter to Zach. It was a dumb movie, the kind even teenage boys forget in no time. The only thing that lingered in Zach's memory was Matt Maddox's lean body, hairy chest, and shocking pink Speedo. For weeks he couldn't get Maddox out of his mind. In time, as boys will, he forgot about both Buxom Beach Bunnies and its star. A year later Maddox, his star on the rise, played the title role in a low-budget movie about the old comic book hero Captain Marvel. And once again, even though the story was preposterous, Zach couldn't take his eyes off the star. The 6


Captain Marvel costume was a lot less revealing than the swimsuit in Buxom Beach Bunnies, but it was good enough to hold Zach almost transfixed. He had been so taken with Maddox's chest that he hadn't noticed his legs. But his legs, in Captain Marvel's tights, were something to behold. Lean and muscular, the lines couldn't have been much more seductive. And Zach, in the clueless way of high school boys, was seduced. He barely noticed the supervillain, the girl, or the rest of the cast. This captain was a marvel in more ways than one. But Captain Marvel didn't linger in his memory much longer than Buxom Beach Bunnies had. Those kinds of movies aren't designed to last. They make a quick buck and disappear—as they probably ought to. Later that same year came Tarzan and the Invaders from Mars, another zero-budget movie. At least, the money spent on Maddox's costume was near zero. He wore the shortest loincloth on record, and as he swung through the trees battling bug-eyed monsters, it flapped in the most titillating way. And he had pretty clearly been working out: washboard chest, perfectly shaped thighs, the arms of an athlete... and body hair—just enough hair to accentuate the lines of his body. The man was a dream. Zach wasn't a dumb kid. He knew the movie was junk. But for the first time, Matt Maddox registered with him in a way that wouldn't fade after a month or two. This was an actor to watch for. When a sequel was released the next year under the title Tarzan and the Peril from Neptune, Zach was in line for a ticket the first day. 7


Peril from Neptune had a bigger budget than Invaders from Mars. The first movie had done very well for low-budget schlock, if only because of Matt Maddox's gorgeous body, blue eyes, irresistible smile, and loincloth. A sequel was inevitable. There were bigger, more elaborate sets; splashier, more expensive special effects; and more convincing bug-eyed monsters for Tarzan to battle. But all of that was a side issue in Zach's mind. The one thing in the movie that was smaller was Matt Maddox's loincloth. It was hemmed almost to the point of indecency. A big debate raged over whether the few millimeters of Maddox's body it covered up could actually be glimpsed from time to time, albeit fleetingly. "Family" groups denounced the film. Telling himself he only wanted to satisfy his intellectual curiosity and settle the argument, Zach saw the movie seven times. And finally Matt Maddox moved out of B-movie territory and onto the A-list. His next movie was a two-fisted action thriller called Drastic Measures. He played a hard-boiled cop named Richard "Bash" Corrigan who operated outside the law to beat up some drug runners. (The movies have never had much use for cops who operate inside the law.) For once he kept his clothes on. And for the first time, critics began to notice his strong screen presence. A few of them even admitted he could act a little. If he could keep it up, he was a made actor. Or so Zach hoped. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Two Movie Crazy Drastic Measures was followed after another year by Drastic Measures 2: Corrigan Returns, in which he beat up the Taliban, who were mysteriously operating out of London and Paris. Zach was a freshman in college when it came out, and he had a lot on his mind besides pulp adventure movies, but he saw it three times anyway. Maddox was magnetic, simply magnetic, at least for Zach. In fact, in a weird way Maddox's career growth echoed Zach's own growth into manhood. Zach had, as they say, found himself. In very short order during his freshman year he realized, first, that he wanted to be a writer and, second, that he was gay. Neither came as a big, shocking revelation. He had always been good at making up fantasies for himself and sometimes even for friends. Taking the next step and putting them down on paper seemed natural. When he started college, he decided to major in Creative Writing. As for the gay stuff, that wasn't a big deal either. It was more like that corny thing where a light bulb switched on over his head. He was like, "Oh. Of course. What's for dinner?" Suddenly, and for the first time, his fascination for Matt Maddox made perfect sense. But it was a while before he told anybody he was gay, and it was even longer before he did anything about it. 9


Those two parts of his personality came together in movies. He learned a lot from watching the classics on cable TV—Casablanca, The Maltese Falcon, Citizen Kane, The Adventures of Robin Hood, The Third Man—like how to structure a story, develop a character, and build suspense. The stories he wrote for himself got better and better. But more than that, he just loved to immerse himself in movies. They were an escape, a release, a break from the real world. The world they showed was blatantly false, and Zach knew it; that was the whole point. Movies were his dope. Zach started reading about Hollywood history. He was fascinated to learn that so many of the great stars had been gay or bisexual. Cary Grant, Tyrone Power, Errol Flynn, even old silent movie actors like Rudolph Valentino. And...and...and...Matt Maddox? There were other sexy movie stars, but Maddox was always first in Zach's mind—and heart. There had been rumors. Zach's one really guilty pleasure (aside from scantily clad actors) was reading all the gossip websites. He was especially fond of one, a gay-friendly one called The Back Fence. Mostly they focused on bigger, betterknown stars. But as Maddox's career blossomed they started noticing him. And gossiping. Maddox had picked up the parking valet at a posh Hollywood restaurant. He had been seen keeping company with a famous baseball player. And on and on. But Maddox guarded his personal life aggressively. Lawsuits were threatened, big ones. It was announced that he was marrying the actress who had starred opposite him as Jane in his second Tarzan movie. Between the threat of 10


litigation and the big public show of robust heterosexuality, pretty soon the rumors died. By the time Drastic Measures 3: The Last American Hero was released (in which he beat up on al Qaeda in Oslo and Reykjavik), his heterosexuality was unquestioned, at least in print. Halfway through his freshman year, with the encouragement of his professors, Zach started submitting his fantasy stories—all of them tinged with sexual fantasy, of course—to magazines. The first few were rejected. But after four months of trying, a science fiction magazine offered to publish one of his tales. It was a blatant rip-off of Tarzan and the Peril from Neptune, changed just enough so (he hoped) he couldn't be sued. A half-naked hero, muscular and with just enough body hair, battled evil creatures from outer space and beat the crap out of them. Zach had never really believed he could be a professional writer. When the magazine accepted his story he was bowled over. And in short order a second magazine, one for detective fiction, bought another of his stories, this one about a tough, muscular cop, with just enough body hair, who operated outside the law. But when he saw how little he was being paid, the excitement wore off quickly. How on earth could anyone make a living at this? He had always had the impression, from movies and TV shows, that writers all make enormous incomes. The reality was pretty sobering. After giving it a lot of thought, he decided to switch his major to Journalism. At least you could make a living wage at it. And he could always get a job writing for a gossip blog. If nothing else, he'd get all 11


the hot dirt about gay movie stars and all the shenanigans they went through to protect their closets. So he'd be vicariously close to Matt Maddox. And somehow, someday, his talent for spinning fantasies might come in handy. He had no idea how, but... [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Three "I Lost It at the Movies" Zach never thought he was particularly good looking. Other people disagreed, but he was stuck with a poor selfimage. He stood 6'2", had strawberry blond hair and bright green eyes. And he had a good body; he was one of those guys who stay in shape naturally, without having to work out. His ideal man was Matt Maddox, or someone like him. Athletic, dark-haired, and rugged. That was an image Zach just didn't fit. He was the boy-next-door type, the neighborhood prep, and he thought way down deep that no one could ever take a guy like him seriously. Maybe that was why it took him so long to realize he was gay—he just didn't think of himself as a sexual kind of guy. Except in his fantasies. Alone in his room at night he made love in his mind to Matt Maddox. They fondled long and hard, licked each other all over, kissed long and deep, sucked long and hard, screwed long and hard... And then Zach would come and be alone again. It was exciting, it was exhilarating, and it was frustrating. But his fantasies kept him going. Other guys were interested in him, but none of them were handsome, virile, and magnetic like Matt Maddox. A college freshman, he was still a virgin, a fact he tried his best to cover up for all his friends. Was he fantasizing too much? Was he setting his sights too high, even in his made-up world? How could he 13


ever hope to really meet a man as sexy and electrifying as Matt Maddox? Midway through his sophomore year, Zach was still sexually inexperienced. And it was getting harder and harder for him to contain. There had to be a man for him somewhere, a good, faithful, loving man. Not Matt Maddox— he knew that was impossible—but a real, flesh-and-blood man who would love him and be faithful. It was announced that Matt Maddox's wife was divorcing him. Almost at once gay rumors began to circulate again. The marriage had been too short; if it had been anything but a PR stunt, Mrs. Maddox would have given it a longer chance. And on and on. Zach's fantasies went into overdrive. And then they were dashed again. Maddox married another actress, one who had played a bit part in Drastic Measures 2. The media—except the gossip sites—covered it with complete seriousness. No hint that Matt Maddox, hero of millions, might be gay ever crept into the mainstream coverage. Zach felt vaguely depressed and restless. His idol was getting married again. He tried imaging Maddox making love to his new wife, but the images just wouldn't come. For the first time his fantasies failed him; for the first time they weren't nearly enough. He started hanging out in gay bars though he was still a bit under twenty-one. He wasn't really a drinker and none of the men, who drank a lot, interested him. (It had been widely reported that Matt Maddox didn't drink.) He joined the campus gay group but found it equally unfulfilling. Everyone 14


in it was his age, and he was attracted to older men. Not "daddies" but "big brothers," guys old enough to know a bit more and be a bit more together than he was himself. Guys like—no, he wouldn't let himself think about Matt Maddox anymore. The man was married; the man was straight. End of story. There was a movie theater in town called the Gaiety that showed gay porn. Finally, in a fit of frustration, Zach decided to go there and vent his feelings that way. Let the director and the actors provide his fantasies for him. It was just twilight when he went in the front door. Zach was a bit nervous and not at all sure what to expect. It was a small place, not exactly seedy but not exactly a showplace either. The ticket clerk, who couldn't have been much older than Zach, sold him his ticket and gestured toward the inner door without ever losing his bored manner. Inside, the theater had space for maybe 150 patrons. There was a center aisle with rows of seats on both sides. A few dim lights gave the only illumination besides the movie screen. The place was only about a quarter full. Zach took a seat near the back. He felt terribly self-conscious. If someone should see him and recognize him... A bright image flickered on the screen. College-age guys were jogging though a forest wearing only shorts and sneakers. They were eyeing each other, checking each other out in an overtly sexual way. Finally, two of them stopped running and kissed. Their embrace was passionate; they fondled each other. One guy slipped the other one's running 15


shorts off and licked the front of his underarmor. Then they began to make love. Fascinated, Zach settled into his seat. Not wanting to look like he was new at this—not wanting to gawk—he took a furtive look around. There were all kinds of men in the theater. Older guys, younger guys, some in suits, and some dressed casually. Thankfully he didn't see anyone he knew. There were half a dozen actors in the movie (if "actors" was the right word for them). Only one of them seemed to be in his thirties. He played a forest ranger who busted the horny young runners and forced them to have sex with him. He was the only one who really caught Zach's attention. He wasn't Matt Maddox but he was a reasonable facsimile. Suddenly Zach became aware that someone had sat down next to him. It made him uncomfortable. He glanced out the corner of his eye and saw that the guy was a business type— gray suit, red tie, and hair graying slightly at the temples. Zach forced himself to concentrate on the movie. Then he felt the guy's hand on his leg. He panicked. What to do? How do you handle a situation like that? The man's hand moved up Zach's thigh, slowly, slowly. Zach jumped up and moved several seats away. Crisis averted. He wouldn't have to respond. Thank God. Zach watched the screen as the "forest ranger" made the younger guys suck him off or fucked them. One young guy, a slender blond, gave him attitude, and the ranger spanked him long and hard. The guy's butt turned bright red. Then the cop kissed and licked it to make it feel better. And then of course, 16


they fucked. The ranger even made another one of the guys get down on his knees and lick his boots. During the scenes between the younger guys, Zach's attention strayed. Despite the surroundings he found himself thinking about school, exams, the gay group... Guys his age just didn't interest him. Then he noticed something. Periodically other patrons would get up, leave their seats and make their way down the aisle toward the screen. There was an opening beside it, a gaping doorway. Beyond it was darkness. The men would vanish into that place and stay there from the longest time. When they finally came out again, they would either resume their seats or simply leave—quickly. Zach watched, fascinated. He had heard about places like this, but it had never seemed possible they could be real. The thought of what must be happening behind the screen took hold of him. Men. There. Having sex. Making love in the dark. To the extent that he had ever given it any thought, he had assumed that men who would do that, who would use a movie theater as a place to have sex, must be seedy degenerates. But these men weren't like that at all. They were all different types, businessmen, professionals, bluecollar types in jeans and work shirts, older guys, younger guys... all kinds of men. There. Making love. The movie was halfway over before he got up his nerve. Trying his best to look casual and anonymous, he got to his feet and ambled up the aisle. Don't look too anxious, Zach, he told himself, don't let them see that you need it or want it. He 17


did need it and he did want it, but he could barely admit that to himself. How could he let anyone else know? As he got nearer to the screen, the forest ranger's body loomed over him, undressed except for his work boots. Naked thighs, naked chest (with just enough hair, of course), and an enormous uncut cock. By now the younger guys were avid for him. They no longer pretended they were being forced against their will. They sucked, licked, kissed him—and each other—in every combination imaginable. And the ranger, in the middle of the action, was obviously enjoying it all. His body writhed with pleasure. Then Zach was at the door to the back room. He hesitated for a moment, watched the screen. The forest ranger shot a huge load into the face of the young blond. Fuck! Zach stepped into the darkness behind the screen. There were no lights in the room. It was large, nearly as large as the outer theater. Zach pressed himself against the wall just inside the door. To his surprise the screen was twosided and translucent. He could still see the movie, but it was reversed, a mirror image of what showed in the main part of the theater. It provided the only light. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the light. The screen was bright, and the rest of the room was in neartotal blackness. When they finally adjusted, what he saw left him wide-eyed. Just a few feet to his right was a slightly older business type with dark wavy hair and an expensive tailored suit. He had his cock and balls out and was stroking energetically. The man was handsome. Zach realized this was the guy who had tried to grope him in his seat. He didn't 18


know whether to look at his face or his body. The man reached over and took Zach's hand, then squeezed it gently. Zach took a step away from him. He was an attractive man, but Zach felt so unsure of himself. Two long wooden benches was the only furniture in the room. Men sat on them, giving other men blowjobs, and layed on them, getting fucked. From where he was standing, Zach could see the movie but at an angle. The forest ranger was fucking one of the younger guys while another one rimmed him. Zach looked from the screen to the businessman's cock and back again. What do I do now? he asked himself. How do you behave in a place like this? After hesitating for a moment he stepped further into the room. In the far corner he took a place beside an older man, taller with a beefy build. After a moment he realized there was a younger man on his knees giving the older one a blowjob. The image on the screen suddenly brightened, and he saw that the older man was wearing a policeman's uniform. The one servicing him was much younger. The scenario echoed what was happening on the screen between the forest ranger and the young jogger. Zach looked from one to the other, astonished at what was happening. The cop turned to Zach, smiled, and winked. Zach watched them, and despite the strangeness of the scene he found himself getting excited. The cop leaned closer, licked his lips suggestively, put a hand on Zach's shoulder, and whispered, "Do my boots." Zach hesitated for a moment, then moved decisively away from them. If the cop had asked him to join in the oral action, he might have been tempted. But lick his boots! That 19


wasn't something Zach had any desire to do. He was a sophomore; that was a graduate seminar. He took up a third place, directly opposite the movie screen. The action was really heating up. Everyone was naked except for white socks. They made love en masse in brilliant forest sunlight. Mouths touched bodies, sucked nipples, and licked cocks and buttholes. Again Zach felt himself getting excited. All around the back room men were pairing off, pairing or tripling or whatever. The air smelled of sex. It was wilder than anything Zach had ever imagined. His body responded to the scene. He had never been so excited. Too much was happening too quickly. Too much that was new. Zach didn't know what to do or what he wanted. The scene he found himself in the middle of was hot and exciting, and he knew he was getting caught up in it. Yet he wasn't at all sure he wanted to be there. That same businessman, the one who had come on to him earlier, moved beside him again. Zach's eyes had adjusted, and the screen had brightened, so he could see the man better. The older man had slight touches of gray at the temples and a square jaw. He was no Matt Maddox, but not at all bad. His cock was still out, and it was huge and hard. Almost at once he took Zach's hand and placed it on his cock. Then he groped Zach's crotch. They kissed. All around them more men were kissing, fondling, licking, and making love. Zach held the man tighter and tighter. He got down on his knees and began to suck. When the man groaned softly with pleasure it gave Zach a 20


thrill. He felt the man's cock get even harder in his mouth, and he sucked harder in turn. The man pulled Zach to his feet and bent down. He undid Zach's belt and then unzipped his fly. In an instant he was sucking. Zach was so turned on by it all he came almost at once and shot the man's mouth full. He moaned softly, "Oh, Matt!" His partner looked up at him. "What did you say?" "Great." He thought quickly. "I said that was great." "Oh. It sounded like something else." When the guy got back to his feet Zach said, "Sorry." "For what?" The man chuckled. Light from the screen flickered. "Was it really good?" "Best I've ever had." The man reached up and stroked Zach's cheek. "Do you want to finish me?" "Uh...sure," he stammered but made himself smile. Then he got down on his knees and began licking. The guy was big. Huge. Zach had trouble getting it all in his mouth. He was unsure he wanted to be doing it at first, but after a moment or two he really got into it. The guy groaned softly, and hearing it turned Zach on more and more. He came quickly, and just before he climaxed, Zach felt the man's cock swell bigger and harder in his mouth. It excited him. When he got to his feet, the guy whispered to him, "Let me buy you a sandwich and a Coke someplace." This was unexpected. These places were supposed to be anonymous. "I have to be going. I have an exam to study for." 21


"You're in college?" Zach nodded as he pulled up his jeans and re-fastened his belt. "Let me buy you a quick dinner first. I'd like to get to know you." Again Zach hesitated. "Come on. There's a little cafe down the street that's pretty good." "Uh, okay, sure." Again, things were happening a bit too fast for a beginner. Outside, it was dark now. Streetlights gave their orangeyellow glow to everything. There was traffic and there were people coming and going on the sidewalk. Zach had to remind himself they couldn't tell where he and his companion had just been or what they'd been doing. He knew it would be un-cool to gawk, but he unobtrusively checked out his partner from the corner of his eye. The guy was a bit shorter than he'd thought. But he was also better looking, even handsome. He had a square jaw, clean-cut features, and sexy salt-and-pepper hair. His suit looked expensive. They made smalltalk along the way about the night, the people they passed, and the weather. After the back room in the Gaiety it seemed unreal. Or had that place been the fantasy? At the cafe they were seated in a booth in the rear corner. Zach was not quite over his nervousness. He tried to make conversation. "We always end up in the back of places." "Privacy." The guy smiled. "It matters." 22


For the first time Zach was actually facing the guy. He smiled, and it was a sweet smile. Zach was slowly warming up to him. He was able to check him out without seeming too forward now, and he liked what he saw. He noticed a monogrammed handkerchief in the man's breast pocket. The initials were "J.G.F." The waitress came, poured coffee, and took their orders. "So you like older men." It was a statement, not a question. "Yeah, I always have." "You're even better looking than I thought. I love red hair." He reached across the table to shake Zach's hand. "My name's Andy." Andy? How did that jibe with "J.G.F."? Zach shook his hand. "I'm Amos. My hair isn't really red. More blond. You know what they say, appearances can be deceiving." "Where do you go to school?" "Toledo State." "Andy" reached up to scratch his nose. He was wearing a wedding ring. Zach's heart sank. He wasn't at all sure where this was going or even where he wanted it to go. But the bastard was married. That was the end of the affair, such as it was. Zach shifted uneasily and made a show of looking at his watch. Part of him was curious how many lies this jerk would end up telling him. But what was the point? "Listen, it's getting late, and I really do have an exam tomorrow. I ought to be going." 23


"Andy" registered disappointment. "Let me drive you. I don't want to lose you." Zach wanted to tell him, Pal, you've already lost me. Next time stay home and screw your wife. But he couldn't bring himself to say it. He muttered something more about midterms and left quickly. "Andy" called after him, "Can I see you again?" Zach pretended not to hear and kept walking. Just outside the cafe he saw the cop from the theater, the one with the boots. Once again he smiled and winked at Zach. "Maybe next time, huh kid?" Jesus! For the first time in his life Zach found himself wishing he really did have an exam, lots of them, enough of them to keep him from ever going to a place like that again. That kind of thing—that kind of anonymous sex—wasn't what he wanted. He smiled faintly at the cop, gave a little wave, and moved quickly off down the sidewalk and back to campus. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Four Teacher's Pet Zach lived on campus, in the dorms. Naturally he had a roommate, a guy named Kyle Beeson, who was tall, thin, lanky, and even blonder than Zach. This was their second year rooming together. At the start of their freshman year, Zach had settled into their room the day before Kyle and had made himself comfortable there. His one bit of trying to personalize the room was a 10x14 poster of Matt Maddox in his pink Speedo, which he hung on the wall right over his computer. When Kyle arrived the next day, he took one glance at the picture, and asked, "Who's that?" Zach couldn't believe he had heard of him. "It's Matt Maddox," he said, astonished. "Who?" "Tarzan. Captain Marvel. Bash Corrigan. You know, the new Errol Flynn." "Who?" "You're kidding. He's the hottest actor in the world." Kyle examined the photo more closely. "Uh, right." He turned to Zach and laughed. "So he's not just one more dumb action hero?" "Never mind." But after that, er, rocky start, the roomies got along just fine. Kyle was straight but had no problem with Zach's 25


gayness. He drank a lot, and one night toward the end of their freshman year and after a few too many beers, he admitted to Zach that he was actually bisexual. "But I really like girls more," he added quickly. Zach's response was a shrug. Maybe if Kyle had been his type... But the guy didn't even know who Matt Maddox was. There was no chance they'd ever connect intimately. But they always got along just fine—both as friends and as roommates. They seemed to like mostly the same music and even some of the same movies. Kyle brought girlfriends back to the room, and even occasional boyfriends, and Zach always discreetly left them alone. Over the course of their freshman and sophomore years they came to think of each other as best friends, and they confided in one another about almost everything. Almost. Zach never tried to explain his fascination with Matt Maddox to Kyle. And he never told him about his adventure at the Gaiety. It just seemed like something a straight—or bisexual—guy wouldn't understand. He didn't sleep well for several nights after that experience at the Gaiety. That was not the way it was supposed to be, not the way he had always imagined his first intimate encounter—not that it had been all that intimate. He didn't feel guilty about it, exactly. But it wasn't at all what he wanted, and the thought that he had given in to temptation by going there left him uncomfortable. Anonymous sex with anonymous men wasn't anything like what he hoped for. Especially men who had secrets and, at that, secrets that meant there would never be anything like love and commitment between them. It wasn't a white picket fence, 26


three dogs, and a husband he wanted, not exactly. But a man he could trust... there was no way to find that in a place like the Gaiety. But while he knew that, he couldn't stop the dreams. Men in that dark backroom. Hot sex on the movie screen. Naked or half-naked, kissing, sucking, and screwing... it was all too hot not to haunt his dreams. And in the middle of every dream was Matt Maddox, moving through the dark room like an ethereal presence, peeling off his pink Speedo to make long, passionate love to Zach. Sometimes the men around them in the darkness joined in; sometimes everyone ignored the two of them. Both scenarios were hot. Every morning he'd wake up with a raging hard-on. How could an experience he found so unsatisfying dog him so? The only man never present in these dreams was "Andy." He was not the stuff that dreams are made of. It took a few weeks for him to get over the Gaiety. Then campus life went on as it had before. Zach worked hard at his writing and journalism courses, and almost as hard at the other required classes. By the second semester of his junior year, he had all the requirements under his belt except one, and he was free to work on his major and take whatever electives suited him. That one remaining required course was Psychology 101. It was a large class, the kind of introductory course with more than a hundred students. It met in one of the large campus lecture halls. Most of the class seemed to think of it as an unpleasant requirement, nothing more. Zach was more 27


serious about it. Maybe a good Psych course could help him understand himself and his place in the world. The instructor was a man in his early thirties named Jim Hessler. He was handsome in a boyish way, with dark Mediterranean features: dark eyes, olive complexion, and dark hair prematurely graying at the temples. His build was tall and slim, athletic without being muscular. He had a warm, funny personality that made his lectures easy to sit through. He always wore jeans and herringbone tweed jackets with elbow patches, just to be sure everyone knew he was an academic. Zach developed a crush on him almost from day one. This was in the spring semester of his junior year. Zach had gained a measure of self-confidence. His experience at the Gaiety had taught him that other men did find him attractive (even if they weren't necessarily the kind of men he wanted to find him attractive). And the fact that he had sold two stories—actually been paid for them, albeit not much— had taught him that he might actually have a promising future and an ability to write. Yet he wanted love; a good man to hold him and protect him. An older, smarter, and more experienced man. A man he could trust. There was one guy in the youth group on campus who caught Zach's eye. His name was Toby Marriner, and he was on the tennis team. Physically he was perfect: tennis player's body, great legs, dark brown hair, and dark eyes. To judge from what showed when he wore shorts and t-shirts, his body was hairy but not too much so. And he expressed definite 28


interest in Zach. He would chat him up every time they saw each other, and when the group went to the campus hangout after meetings for sandwiches, he always made a point of sitting next to Zach. But he was Zach's age, at least ten years too young to hold his interest. Zach always found his eye drawn to Toby at the gay group's meetings. If he squinted, he could make Toby into a pretty fair Maddox clone. Toby kept pestering him for a date; Zach kept putting him off. After psychology class, he'd linger in the lecture room and find excuses to make smalltalk with Jim Hessler. Jim had said a few things that led Zach to think he might be gay, but there was nothing definite. Sooner or later, he knew he'd find the right opening to find out and to catch Jim's attention in a more than casual way. It finally came when the class did a section on human sexuality. The discussion got frank and fairly heated. Some of the more conservative students objected to being required to learn about sexual orientation. Zach and a few other gay students argued their case. When class finished and Zach was leaving, Jim asked him to stay for a moment. "You did a good job today, Zach." "Thanks." It caught him off guard. He wasn't sure what to say. "You were calm and reasonable. You set exactly the right tone." Feeling self-conscious, Zach only shrugged.

29


"As a gay faculty member, I have to be careful not to come down too hard on students I disagree with. But you said everything I would have." "You're gay?" Zach tried hard not to sound like a naive kid. "I didn't know. I mean, I wasn't sure. I mean—" "We don't come with tattoos on our foreheads." "Sure, but—" "Have you got a few minutes? We can grab a sandwich and talk a bit." That was how it began, as simple and innocent as that. They developed an easy rapport and enjoyed each other's company. At least once a week they'd get together after class. Jim always backed off from any hint of romance, but a nice friendship was blossoming. After a while people began to notice. Toby commented, "You've been hanging out with your psych teacher a lot this semester." "We're friends, that's all. We like each other. He's a great guy." "He's a hot guy. I think I'm jealous." But other people didn't matter to Zach. As time went on, Zach became increasingly more taken by Jim Hessler. One night they went to dinner at a little Italian restaurant. The place was right out of a corny old movie, checkered tablecloths and candles in Chianti bottles. It suited Zach just fine. The end of the semester was approaching. Jim seemed to like him, and like him a lot. But nothing intimate had happened. Zach decided to be bold. As they were talking 30


about approaching finals he said to Jim, "I've really loved your class. I wish I could take more of you next semester." "I only teach Psych 101." He shrugged. "I'm only an assistant professor." "We can see each other without a class then." Jim seemed not to know what to say to this. He pretended to be distracted by a noise from somewhere in the restaurant's bar. But Zach wasn't about to give up. He reached across the table and took Jim's hand. For a moment Jim didn't react. Then, slowly, he smiled and squeezed Zach's hand. Zach held tighter. "I've been wanting to do this since the first day of class." "I... me too. You're... you're gorgeous, Zach. Exactly my type. When I saw you walk into the lecture hall that first day, I..." "Let's eat fast and go someplace." But Jim pulled his hand away. "We can't. I mean, I can't. We're instructor and student, Zach. There are ethics." "What kind of ethics would keep two people apart?" "Professional ethics. And you know it. I could lose my position. I'm up for tenure next year, and I—" "You only teach Psych 101. You won't be my teacher next term." "No, I won't." "There won't be any conflict of interest." "I know it. We'll just have to... we'll see, in the fall." There was an awkward silence. Zach took Jim's hand again, but this 31


time Jim pulled away. Groping for smalltalk he asked, "What are you doing over the summer?" Zach worked to hide his disappointment. "I'm going to Europe. Doing the backpacking/youth hostel thing." "Some of those hostels can be pretty hot places. The ones that have separate sleeping facilities for guys and girls. That's how I..." He lowered his voice. "Well, that's how I lost my virginity." "Really?" "Really. You'd be surprised what happens in some of those hostels after dark." His tone turned sad and wistful. "He was Swedish. Tall and boyish. Reddish-blond hair." He smiled selfconsciously. "Like you, Zach." Zach's heart jumped. Yes, he was Jim's type. Next semester... They made more smalltalk over dinner, some of it neutral, some of it flirtatious. Then they walked home together. Jim had an apartment in a building not far from campus. They said goodnight in the lobby. Zach hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Can I come in?" "Next semester, Zach." Zach couldn't control himself. He threw his arms around Jim and kissed him. And Jim kissed back. It was a long, slow, passionate kiss. Then, with a touch of sadness in his voice, Jim told him goodnight. "Next term. Remember." "Don't worry. After that kiss, how could I forget?" [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Five Tower of London It was the last day of the term. Students were packing, leaving for the summer. Zach and Kyle were planning to room together for the fourth time next term. As they were packing their things, Zach casually mentioned what had happened between him and Jim. Kyle wasn't surprised. "Half the campus has been talking about the two of you. Wondering if you're lovers, or what." Zach grinned like an eight-year-old. "Not yet, we're not. But if I have my way..." Laughing sarcastically, Kyle said, "You have a crush on your teacher. How corny is that?" "I know it. It's like a romance out of a Doris Day movie." "Who?" He sighed. "There's no hope for you. Besides, you and that girl you're dating are on the corny side too. Like Frankie and Annette." "Who?" "I give up." They finished their packing, shook hands, and wished each other a good summer. Zach already knew that his would be. London was his first stop in Europe. His first few days there he did the usual tourist thing. Hyde Park, Trafalgar Square, Buckingham Palace, etc. At the Tower of London, while he was checking out the crown jewels, one of the 33


guards flirted with him. He was a young-ish guy, maybe thirty or so, and he had a trim, athletic build that his uniform only accentuated. If Zach had been more into casual sex, he might have responded. Gazing at the jewels, gaping like the green tourist he was, Zach said, "They're so big. I've never seen anything like them." "There are a lot of big stones in London," the guard said. "You should check some of them out." It caught Zach off guard. "I couldn't afford them. I'm just a student." "I can see that." He touched his nightstick to his lips in the most suggestive way. It dawned on him what the guy was talking about. "I'm a student, not a pushover." The guard was amused. "Sorry." He went on with his tour. But he found himself looking back over his shoulder at the guard for a time. The youth hostel where he stayed was a small, dingy place on a little street called Craven Terrace, just off Kensington Gardens. He was expecting a kind of large, communal dorm room. But to his surprise he was given a private room, a double that he had to share with another guy. The bathroom and shower facilities were shared communally, though. There was one for guys and one for women. There were students from all over Europe staying at the hostel. Most of them were couples, guys and girls traveling together. There were a few gay couples in the mix, but very few people traveling on their own. 34


His roommate turned out to be a European guy. He was in the room when Zach arrived. "Guten tag." "I'm afraid I don't speak German." The man was short, dark-haired, and blue-eyed. He smiled. "You are an American?" Zach nodded. "No one expects Americans to speak anything but English. And poorly, at that." "European arrogance. Try me in French, Italian, or Spanish." "Nein." He laughed again. "No. I didn't mean to sound arrogant. But if you could see a lot of the tourists we get over here... I'm Hubertus." They shook hands. "Zach. What part of Germany are you from?" "There, you see what I mean? I'm Austrian, not German." "Oh, sorry. I just assumed—" "That is all right. Most Americans seem to think the two are the same country." Zach was getting more and more annoyed with the attitude. He put on a wide grin and said, "Austria is the one Germany invaded, right? And then it turned Nazi." "Touche." He made a show of looking at his watch. "Touche yourself, Hubertus. I have to go. Have a nice day." He couldn't wait to get out of there.

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Strolling through Kensington Gardens one afternoon, he came across the famous statue of Peter Pan. "The boy who never grew up." For an instant he felt terribly self-conscious. A crush on a movie star and a crush on his teacher, Kyle had been right, it was all too corny. But after only a moment's reflection Zach decided he loved being that corny. There was no way he'd ever meet Matt Maddox, much less become his lover. But Jim... Jim was real. And he was there in Zach's life. Sandra Dee never had it more perfect. He spent the next few days seeing more of the London sights. Westminster Palace, Big Ben, Piccadilly, Covent Garden...and he made day trips to Stonehenge and Windsor Palace. It didn't occur to him at first, but he was touring all the places Matt Maddox had visited in his first Drastic Measures movie. When the realization finally hit him, he formed a mental image of Maddox standing atop one of the lion sculptures in Trafalgar Square, legs spread apart, wearing nothing but his pink Speedo. His crotch was bulging and throbbing. And so was Zach's. Matt Maddox: a man out of fantasy. Zach needed something real. Despite his determination to be a wholesome, apple pie kind of guy, he hadn't been able to forget that Tower of London guard from the first day. He stood in front of Peter Pan for a few moments, debating with himself. Then finally he thought, Fuck it. I'm on vacation. He left the park and jumped on the next bus heading back to the Tower.

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The guard was on duty at the same place, just by the crown jewels. When he saw Zach he smiled. "I knew you'd come back. Your type always does." "My type?" "Gorgeous, young Americans with raging hormones." He laughed at this. "Well, mine are flowing but I'm not sure they're raging." They introduced themselves. The guard's name was Paul, and he told Zach pointedly that his flat was only a few blocks away. "I get off duty in thirty minutes. We can meet at the main gate. Why don't you go and see the dungeon, to get a preview of what will happen to you if you don't please me." Zach checked his watch and went off to check out a part of the Tower he had skipped before. When they met, Paul was wearing soccer gear: shorts, a pullover, and sneakers with knee socks. His legs were so muscular Zach couldn't take his eyes off them. And Paul noticed. "Sorry for the way I'm dressed." "You look fantastic." They walked off together, and Zach Told him, "Tomorrow's my last day here, and I just had to see you again. I'm not sure why." Paul grinned at him. "We'll find a reason." The flat was on the second floor of an old house in a little side street. Paul told him it was one of the few houses like it to survive in modern London. "It's owned by a little old Welsh couple, and the rent is quite reasonable, for London." The flat itself was small and homey. The walls were covered with photographs, mostly of sports figures. There were one or two nudes. Zach took a moment to inspect them, 37


and when he turned back to look at Paul again, Paul had peeled off his shorts and underwear. His cock was erect, and it was bigger than any Zach had ever seen outside of a porn site. He gaped. Paul laughed and said, "Well? Are you going to join me?" In a flash Zach was undressed too, and they were in each other's arms, kissing. Paul licked the side of Zach's throat, and Zach shuddered with the thrill of it. "God. Nobody's ever done that to me before. I had no idea your throat could do that for you." "You're still new at this?" Paul smiled. "Pretty much. I—" But before he could go on Paul kissed him again. Then he walked to the bed and turned down the covers. "Just hold on. You're going to have a wild ride." Paul did things to him he had never experienced before, licked his entire body, toes to eyelids and ears. When Paul kissed his butt and licked deeply, Zach couldn't help moaning loudly with wild pleasure. "Sorry." Paul looked up at him. "Sorry? For what?" "For groaning like that. I feel like an inexperienced kid." "That's what you are... for now. Just wait thirty minutes. And moan all you like. It turns me on." "I've never actually been fucked before. And you're so big. I—" "Will you stop talking and just enjoy it?" He kissed Zach again, longer and deeper and more passionately than before. After a long bout of foreplay, Zach was more excited than he'd ever been. He felt as if he could shoot in a nanosecond. 38


But Paul left off, sat back for a moment and laughed. "For a novice, you're pretty damned good." "I—" "Be quiet." He rolled Zach over on his stomach and rimmed him again, deeper than Zach thought possible. It was hot, and it was more thrilling than anything Zach had ever felt before. He realized he was having that same thought every time Paul did something new to him. Suddenly there was sharp crack of pain. Paul spanked him and spanked him again and again. Zach's eyes opened wide. After the initial surprise, he realized it was exciting him even more. If he didn't climax soon, he'd explode. Then he felt Paul enter him, slowly at first, then faster and faster. He established a rhythm, like a symphony orchestra playing a crescendo. Harder and harder he pumped, faster and faster. Zach moaned with the intense pleasure of it, and Paul whispered in his ear, "That's it, let me hear you cry in ecstasy." Zach closed his eyes tighter. In his mind it was Jim making love to him. Then Jim faded into Matt Maddox. And Paul/Jim/Matt fucked him furiously. They came at almost the same moment. Then they fell apart, exhausted. It took Zach a moment to catch his breath. Softly he whispered, "I'm afraid I've stained your sheet. Sorry." "If you could see my laundry bill... Stop apologizing for yourself." "I can't help it. That's the way I was raised." 39


"Just concentrate on the way you were raised here this afternoon." "You do this a lot?" "Yes, of course." He was the cat that ate the canary. "I live in one of the sexiest cities in the world. Why let it go to waste?" "But... I mean..." "Hm?" "Don't you find it kind of... I don't know... empty? Without love, I mean?" Paul shrugged. "When you go to the food market, do you buy only one apple?" They dressed and Paul saw him down to the door. As he was leaving, Paul caught hold of him and kissed him. Zach looked around nervously. "People can see." "Americans." He seemed amused. "This is the heart of London, not the backwoods of Alabama." Zach decided, what the hell, if Paul isn't worried, why should I be? They kissed and said goodbye. Zach was planning to walk back to the hostel, but he found his legs felt weak. He caught the next bus to Kensington. On the bus it hit him again, This isn't the way it's supposed to be. This isn't what I want. What didn't occur to him was that every time he started thinking about Matt Maddox, he ended up having sex with someone. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Six London After Midnight That evening, Zach had a ticket for the theater, a West End farce about marital infidelity. Lots of running around, multiple doors opening and closing, people "accidentally" exposed wearing nothing or next to nothing. During the intermission he found himself wondering if he was the only person in the world who doesn't think about sex all the time— conveniently ignoring the fact that he did. After the theater he went straight back to the hostel. He'd be leaving for Paris in the morning and he wanted to get a good night's sleep. When he got back to the room, he took a shower. There were several other guys there, all of them students of course, including his roommate Hubertus. Zach tried not to stare at their bodies, or at least to cover up the fact that he was staring, but he wasn't very successful. As he was soaping up, Hubertus moved to the shower head next to him. Zach had been hoping to get to bed and then to leave in the morning without seeing him again. "Guten abend." "Hello, Hubertus." He couldn't help noticing that Hubertus was the only guy in the room whose body wasn't really good. He had nice legs, probably from playing soccer, but he had a bit of a gut. Too much Austrian beer? "You have been enjoying London?" 41


"Yes, very much." "That is good. I hope you like the rest of Europe as well. You will visit Austria?" "That isn't in my plans, no." "That is a pity. Vienna is a beautiful city. Much more so than London." Zach shrugged. "I'm only an ignorant American, remember? I'm sure I wouldn't appreciate it." He got out of the shower and back to his room as quickly as he could, toweled himself off, and got into bed so he wouldn't have to interact with Hubertus any more than he had already. It had been a longer day than he was expecting, and he dropped off to sleep in no time. And dreamed. There was a scene in one of Maddox's Drastic Measures movies where he was captured by terrorists, stripped naked, and tortured. They beat him—pummeled him repeatedly—and he screamed in agony. In Zach's dream, he himself was the secret agent, being worked over by the Taliban. His hands and feet were bound, and they were striking him with the flats of their hands. It excited him. He had a ferocious erection. And then he woke. Something was wrong. Even sound asleep and in the midst of his erotic dream, he knew it. He woke. The room was dark, and it took him a moment or two to remember where he was. He tried to get up, and he couldn't. He quickly realized that his hands and feet were bound. His dream had been no dream, or rather only half a dream. 42


In the darkness he could just make out Hubertus's from, standing over him. He was stark naked. He raised his hand and slapped Zach, not hard but almost playfully. It stung but not too much. Zach started to cry out, and realized that he couldn't. He was gagged as well as being hogtied. Hubertus had assaulted him in his sleep. And he realized how completely aroused he was—not a comfortable realization. Hubertus leaned close to him and whispered, "You like it, don't you? I can see that you like it." He grabbed hold of Zach's cock and squeezed. Zach writhed and groaned, but there was nothing else he could do. "Stop fighting!" Hubertus commanded and slapped him again. Then Hubertus rolled him over onto his stomach and began to spank him again. He slapped Zach's butt harder and harder, and with each slap Zach, despite himself, felt a surge of sexual electricity run through him. The spanking hurt but also aroused him. The image flashed into his mind of himself and Matt Maddox side by side, bound and gagged, being tortured by villains. He managed to work the gag out of his mouth and shouted out for help. And Hubertus registered a kind of panic. He put his hand over Zach's mouth and said in a loud whisper, "Quiet! Do you want to ruin this?" Zach couldn't believe he was hearing it. "Yes, that's exactly what I want. Untie me now or I'll scream even louder. And I'll make as much trouble for you as I can." "But... but... but I thought you would like it." Hubertus started undoing the ropes. "You did like it. I could see." 43


"Maybe I liked it and maybe I didn't. But you're the last person on earth I'd want to be doing it with." "Really, Zachary, honestly, I thought you would enjoy it. Americans love being dominated." Zach was finally free. He sat up, switched on the light and rubbed his wrists where the ropes had been especially tight. "I don't know where you got that idea, but you better go back and check your source again. Now get into bed, and I don't want to hear another sound out of you." "But... but—" "Now. Do you want me to go to the house manager and complain about you?" Sadly, silently, Hubertus crawled into his bed. Zach took a few moments to unwind, then turned the light off and tried to get back to sleep. After a while he heard the sound of Hubertus jerking off in his bed. When Zach finally drowsed off again, he dreamed that same dream: He and Maddox, naked, tied together, and being whipped by terrorists. With the logic of a dream, the terrorists morphed into Jim Hessler and Paul, the Tower Guard. Every stroke of the whip gave Zach a wild sexual thrill mixed with intense pain. Then weirdly he became one of the torturers, whipping Maddox savagely, alongside the others. Maddox had a climax, spraying himself with come. And at the exact same moment, Zach climaxed too. He woke, wet and hot, feeling more than a bit abashed. He hadn't had a wet dream since he was twelve. He looked across to Hubertus's bed, hoping he hadn't heard. Compared 44


to Zach's dream, what Hubertus had done was amateur stuff. He was glad to see that Hubertus was sound asleep. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Seven Paris When It Sizzles Zach awoke quite early the next morning. Once again he was happy to see that Hubertus was still asleep. He took a brief shower, packed quickly and quietly, and checked out of the hostel. He made his way to the train station and boarded a train for Dover. He was going to take the Chunnel to France. Just before getting on his train, he picked up a newspaper, the British tabloid the Sun, to help fill the time. The Sun was famous—or infamous—for running pictures of topless women. Zach skipped those quickly, and he skipped past all the national and international news, and turned to the show business gossip. Immediately one item caught his eye. Needless to say, it was about Matt Maddox. Shooting was set to begin in Egypt for the latest Drastic Measures sequel; a second unit would be shooting all over Europe. After that, Maddox had agreed to star in a film called The Adventures of Sinbad the Sailor. Despite the Arabian Nights title and the need for exotic locales, most of the film would be shot in the United States. Thinking about Maddox again left Zach aroused. "The Sun." A man in his late thirties sat in the seat next to him. "Shouldn't you read something a bit more, er, cultural than that?" The guy was an American. He had thick brown hair, large brown eyes, and wore pop-bottle-bottom 46


eyeglasses. Not really good-looking but not exactly badlooking either, in a geeky kind of way. "Believe me, I have all the culture I can stand." They guy smiled and extended a hand. "I'm Philip Brandon." "Hi. Zach Regan. Philip Brandon? I've heard of you." "Really? That seems pretty unlikely. I'm a journalist. That's just one step up from being nobody." Zach tried to remember where he'd heard Brandon's name, and it came to him almost at once. "You write for The Back Fence!" Brandon laughed. "Wow. You really do like to go slumming, don't you?" "I read it every week." He looked slightly away. "Online. I can't really afford a print subscription." "Who can? Everybody reads us online." "I'm just a student." Zach found himself liking the man. "Anyway, the Sun is the closest thing to The Back Fence I can find right now. I didn't bring my laptop." "Do they have anything juicy?" "Just a quick item about Matt Maddox." He turned away shyly. "I've liked him since I was a kid." "You mean Queen Mathilda? What kind of trouble is she in now?" "Trouble? No trouble." Zach was a bit puzzled by what Brandon had said. "He's starting his new movie, that's all." Then it hit him. "Queen?! Are you saying he—? I mean, I've heard rumors now and then, but I never thought—" 47


"I thought everybody knew. His lawyers have hushed up so many scandals you'd need an abacus to count them." His tone was offhand. Zach tried not to let his astonishment show too much. "But... but he's married. He's been married twice." "He's not the first movie star to have a beard, Zach. Cary Grant was married. Randolph Scott was married. Valentino, Gary Cooper... even Rock Hudson." A hundred different thoughts raced through Zach's mind, and ninety-nine of them were erotic. "But—I mean, if you know this, why haven't you published it?" "Come, now. He has a powerhouse group of lawyers. They threaten to sue anyone who says he's gay publicly. The usual figure is a million bucks. We're gossips, not idiots." He adjusted himself to face Zach. "We have a file on him three inches thick. And when the time comes... There's word going around that he might be coming out sometime soon. His wife's getting ready to divorce him." "And she'll tell what she knows?" "Not if she wants a good settlement. Like I said, powerhouse lawyers." The conversation drifted to other subjects—the conversation but not Zach's mind, which was dancing with visions of shocking pink Speedos and sex. Zach mentioned that he was a journalism student and occasional writer. Brandon snapped his fingers. "I knew I knew your name. You had a story in Incredible Tales a few months ago." "You read it?!" "I remember it very well. It was really hot." 48


"Well, I was thinking of Matt Maddox when I wrote it. It came to me easily." "You really do have the hots for him, don't you? But listen, we can always use good talent. If you think you might like to work for us—if you wouldn't think it was too trashy," he handed Zach his card. "I don't actually do the hiring, but I can put in a good word for you." "Thanks. I'd love to work there." "My pleasure. If you could see the kind of applicants we usually get..." He seemed to find the subject unpleasant and shifted topics. "Were you in England very long?" "Long enough. I'm looking forward to Paris, Rome, and Athens." "Did you just do the tourist thing, or did you actually get to know the British people?" "One or two." "And was it rewarding?" "Let's say it was mixed. I mean, I'm a young gay man on the loose in Europe. I'm supposed to have lots of fun, lots of sex. But somehow..." "Hm?" "Let's just say lots of sex without love doesn't do it for me. I'd rather not talk about it." They went to the dining car and ordered sandwiches. Brandon offered to show Zach the sights of Paris. "No strings attached. I mean..." "No, I appreciate it. Thanks." "I just don't want you to think I'm after your butt." "Don't give it a thought." 49


"You're a damn good-looking man. You must be used to that." Zach laughed. "Not as much as you'd think." Their food came and they ate. Brandon offered again to play guide. "I know Paris pretty well. The restaurants, the museums, the gay bars and sex clubs..." "Thanks, Philip, but I really want to strike out on my own as much as I can. You know, to try out my schoolboy French and see how far it gets me." "Sure. Oh, by the way—" Brandon bit into his roast beef sandwich. "Yes?" "Did you know Matt Maddox has done gay porn?" It couldn't have caught Zach more off guard. "You're kidding!" "Nope. Back before he started getting acting jobs. He posed for a whole series of shots for a gay magazine. Of course, he denies it now. Says he needed the money and wasn't really into it. The usual "gay-for-pay" crap. And of course he threatens to sue anyone who ever publishes them or says a word about it. We have a complete set in our files." "And will you publish them? When he comes out, I mean?" "No, we don't own the rights to them, damn it." They finished their meal and went back to their seats. After a few moments, the gentle rocking of the train lulled them both to sleep. As Zach was drowsing off, he told himself he had to get a job with The Back Fence. He had to see those pictures. He just had to. 50


Zach fell in love with Paris at first sight. Being there was like being in an Audrey Hepburn movie. Glamorous people, gorgeous architecture, it was a fantasy-land better than anything Disney ever came up with. He wanted to see everything, the usual tourist spots as well as some more obscure places he had heard about. And this time he managed to avoid any kind of sexual situations—at first. It was easy enough. He just kept thinking about Jim Hessler and the wonderful relationship they were heading toward. Senior year would begin in late August. And so would love. Casual sex, even though it could be satisfying physically, was not satisfying at all on an emotional level. Zach wanted a relationship, a true, committed, and emotionally satisfying relationship. And he knew he'd have that with Jim. So he concentrated on the cultural side of Paris and did his best to ignore its erotic dimension. The Arc de Triomphe towered over him. He had seen photos of it dozens of times, of course, but he was not prepared for its overwhelming size. The Louvre was the biggest, most opulent museum he had ever seen. When he saw the famous statue the Winged Victory of Samothrace, dramatically placed at the top of a soaring staircase in the Louvre, he felt just like Audrey Hepburn in Funny Face, sweeping down those same stairs. He stayed again in a youth hostel, and this time it was more like what he had expected. The traveling students, the guys, slept in a huge dorm room; there was a separate one for women. There was a huge communal shower/bathroom facility for each gender. Guests were from all over the world. 51


He met and made friends with guys from England, Germany, Belgium, Sweden, Japan, and more. Some of them were fairly obviously gay and traveling in couples. A few of them expressed an erotic interest in Zach. But he kept thinking of Jim Hessler and love. That was enough to keep him chaste. Matt Maddox—who was that? One sunny day he wandered along the bank of the Seine. To his surprise there were men sunbathing there, some of them actually naked, some of them wearing just the briefest bathing suits. He had to remind himself that Europeans had loved showing their bodies—and looking at each other's bodies—years before Americans discovered Speedos. Most of the men he saw had terrific builds, which made him feel a bit self-conscious. Others were, well, less than perfect physical specimens. There was a plump little lady selling ice cream along the riverbank. She was an archetypal peasant woman type, dressed in black, but friendly, open, and jovial. He bought a lemon ice from her. As she handed him his change she said, "Now go back to looking at the men." He was going to protest, but he caught himself and remembered where he was. Overall, Paris was everything he'd ever dreamed it would be. He visited the Eiffel Tower one afternoon. There were lots of tourists, and the line was long. But when he finally gained admission and took the elevator up to the first level, he knew immediately it was worth the wait. The view of the city was beautiful, and it was breathtaking. He could see all the 52


famous monuments and buildings. It seemed all Paris was within his grasp. The observation platform wrapped around all four sides of the Tower. Zach wanted to see everything, so he lingered long after most of the tourists in his group had moved on. When he came to the fourth side, just after he turned the corner, he saw a pair of lovers making out. Two guys, both in their twenties. They both had medium brown hair and wore glasses. One was shorter than the other, and a bit plumper. The shorter guy noticed Zach watching them and winked at him. Zach didn't know how to react. He hadn't seen the view yet from that side of the Tower, but he didn't want to go. And they seemed not to mind him being there. For a moment he froze. The shorter guy pulled away from his boyfriend and said in a thick French accent, "You Americans. So uptight all the time." He kissed his lover again quickly. "This is Paris. The City of Love." "I know it." Zach found himself thinking of Jim again. He told himself, We'll honeymoon here one day. I want to kiss Jim here. He tried to take in the view, but the lovers were going at it so intently he couldn't concentrate. So he climbed the dozens of steps to the next level and watched the city from there. The City of Love. Yes. The next day he took a side trip to see the Palace of Versailles, which is just outside the city. It was a magnificent building with the walls covered with beautiful paintings and 53


rich architectural detail, much of it covered in gold leaf. Zach's tour book, Guide to Gay Europe, said that even though the palace was most associated with Louis XIV, his father, Louis XIII, originally built it. And Louis XIII was gay; famously and notoriously gay. Zach looked around at the gorgeous, magnificent structure around him and told himself, This is part of my gay heritage. Mine and Jim's. The most famous room in the palace is the Hall of Mirrors. Every wall, every available surface, was covered in mirrors. The room glistened with their reflected light. Zach stood at one end of it and took it in. The guidebook said that in Louis' day mirrors were rare and valuable, so this long, opulent chamber was a testament to his wealth. He imagined Jim and himself making love here. Then he noticed, in an alcove just off the main room, another pair of young men, kissing passionately. From where he stood they were reflected a thousand times by all the mirrors. As he had on the Eiffel Tower, he let himself get caught up in it. Jim and I. Here in the City of Love. That night, as he tried to get to sleep in his bed at the hostel, he became aware of movement around him the dark. Some of the other guys were pairing off and making love. There wasn't a lot of noise, but there was enough to keep him awake for a while. As near as he could tell it was developing into an orgy. He thought briefly of joining in the fun. But then he remembered his feelings after his other, similar experiences. He wouldn't let himself think of Matt Maddox, not again, not when it might lead to something like that. He focused 54


squarely on Jim Hessler. He was determined to keep his focus there. Until... The Cathedral of Notre Dame sits on an island in the middle of the Seine. It was the one famous site in Paris that Zach hadn't explored, and he didn't want to miss it. On a gorgeous, sunny afternoon, not too hot and not too cool, he headed there. The cathedral reared up in front of him, imposing and majestic, before he even crossed the bridge to the island. Towers soared and flying buttresses seemed to be trying to reach the heavens. The closer Zach got, the more detail he could make out. Sculptures of saints and angels, gargoyles in the form of demons, there was so much of it, he didn't see how anyone could take it all in, in only one visit. On the island itself, a large public square opened up just in front of the cathedral. He gaped up at the facade of the building and tried to imagine Lon Chaney or Charles Laughton climbing across it. The square was dotted with cast iron lampposts, from the look of them erected in the nineteenth century. They were the closest things to modernity anywhere in sight. Zach felt transported to the Middle Ages; he could almost hear choirs giving voice to chant. It was clear why the medieval church was built in this style. From behind him came a voice. "It really is magnificent, isn't it?" It was Philip Brandon. He smiled and shook Zach's hand. "How are you enjoying Paris?" Zach was glad to see him. "I'm turning into Audrey Hepburn." 55


"This city does that to everyone." Philip laughed. "At least, everyone who's gay. How much longer will you be here?" "Three days. Not long enough." "Good. I wouldn't want you to be all Sabrina and Love in the Afternoon when you come to work for us. What's next for you?" "Rome and then Athens." "Quite the grand tour, eh?" "I guess so." Philip turned back to the cathedral. "Are you going inside?" "Of course. How could I miss it? If the interior's anything nearly as grand as the outside, I'd be crazy to miss it." "Well here's a tip. Climb up the bell tower. After you see the bells, find the little staircase that leads up to the roof. You'll see one of Paris' more memorable sights." "What? A hunchbacked bell ringer?" "Better. Some of the city's hottest men go up there to sunbathe. A lot of gay guys, needless to say. They strip to their underwear, or swimsuits, and bask in the sun for hours. Some of them even go nude." "You're kidding. I wouldn't think the authorities would allow that. I mean, it's a church." "Strictly speaking, it's forbidden. Guards check a few times a day, and they shoo everyone out. But this is Paris. Enforcement of the law is pretty casual." He glanced at his watch. "I've got to run—late for a lunch date. Have fun." Zach took another look up the cathedral's magnificent facade. Brandon had to be pulling his leg. Nobody would ever 56


think of sunbathing at a cathedral—much less sunbathing nude. He went inside. And the interior was as overwhelmingly beautiful as the outside. Columns that seemed impossibly tall soared up to the vaulted roof. Stained glass windows glistened like diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and sapphires lit by fire. Yet for all its magnificence there was an uncanny sense of calm, of stillness. Zach was quite silent as he took it all in, not wanting to miss a thing. Other visitors were equally quiet. This had been a sacred place for nearly a thousand years. Not wanting to miss a thing, he climbed the winding stairway to the bell tower. The bells were enormous, larger than he ever imagined bells could be. What skill the medieval artisans must have had to cast bronzes so immense. He stood for a while looking out over the City of Light—or rather the City of Love. It was late afternoon; shadows were long and dark, throwing everything in sight into sharp relief. It was even more impressive than the view from the Eiffel Tower. Yes, he told himself, Jim and I will come here someday. It took him a while to notice the even narrower stairway that led up to the roof. Philip must have been kidding him, right? His curiosity aroused, looking around to make sure no one was watching him, he climbed. The roof was made of metal, highly polished with centuries of wear. And much to his surprise, there really were young men sunbathing there. Only one of them was naked; the rest wore the briefest swimsuits imaginable. They had their street 57


clothes piled neatly beside them. And—he couldn't believe his eyes—there, lying in the afternoon sun, was Matt Maddox. He had a lean, tanned body and wore a brief, flaming-pink Speedo. The only thought in his mind was, Heaven, I've found heaven. He blinked and looked more closely. No, it wasn't Maddox at all, just a guy with the same build—and the same swimwear. The guy got to his feet, yawned and stretched, and began to quickly peel off his swimsuit. He stood there for a moment, lit like a young god by the afternoon sun. He flexed his muscles. His cock wasn't long but it was thick, with a very long foreskin. He noticed Zach watching him and smiled. "You are an American, right?" Zach felt abashed. "How did you know?" "It shows." He pulled on a pair of tight jeans and walked barefoot down to where Zach was. "I am Jean-Marc Aemaer." They shook hands. Zach wasn't at all sure why Jean-Marc was being so friendly, so forward. Zach said it was nice to meet him. And it was. Jean-Marc smiled an impossibly wide smile. "And you are gay, are you not?" He reached for the rest of his clothes and finished dressing. Striped t-shirt, loafers, and no socks. "Are you telling me that shows too?" Zach would have liked to get to know the guy better, but the conversation was making him uncomfortable. "Do you mean you have never heard of gaydar?" He grinned again. "Mine is fine-tuned very well." "Of course I have. It's just that I—I—" 58


Jean-Marc pulled a card out of his pocket and pushed it into Zach's hand. "Tonight. Ten o'clock. Till then." He kissed Zach quickly on the lips and ran off down the stairs. Zach looked at the card. It read: Club Cadinot, 24 Rue de la Chat qui Peche. In smaller type it added Rive gauche. Zach's hostel was also on the Left Bank, and he hoped Club Cadinot wouldn't be far. He asked the concierge for directions to the Rue de la Chat qui Peche. The man seemed puzzled. "Why would you want to go there? It is the narrowest street in Paris, not much more than an alley. It is so narrow three people cannot walk abreast." Somewhat uncertainly Matt showed him the card. And the man broke into an enormous, leering smile. "Are you sure you want to go there? It is the most notorious sex club in Paris." Zach had assumed it was a bar. This news caught him off guard. "Please, how do I get there?" The concierge gave him directions, and as Zach hoped, it wasn't far. But... a sex club! Jean-Marc was a terribly appealing man—and his resemblance to Mat Maddox was startling. But... After thinking it over for a while, he decided to go. He wanted to see Jean-Marc again. I'm young, he told himself, I'm on my first visit to Europe, and this is a chance I might never have again. Even though he had no intention of having casual sex with him—or anyone else—he had to go. Even at a notorious sex club, he could always just watch. The Rue de la Chat qui Peche was indeed narrow, and even though it branched off one of the busiest streets in the Left Bank it was nearly deserted. There were street lights, but 59


they were spaced far apart. Nearly all of the businesses were closed for the night. One restaurant was decorated with electric Christmas tree lights. Zach tried his schoolboy French on the menu, and it seemed the specialty of the house was pizza topped with artichoke hearts. Number 24 was a way further along. There was no sign, just the number on the door, which was painted bright red. A single lamp illuminated it. Hesitantly he went inside. There was a middle-aged man seated behind a desk; a cloud of cigarette smoke surrounded him. He looked as if he hadn't had a pleasant day in years. But when he saw Zach his face brightened. "Oui?" Zach showed him Jean-Marc's little card. "Is this the right place?" "Oui. Ten euros." "How did you know I'm American?" "It always shows. Ten euros." Not exactly business courtesy at work. Zach wasn't at all sure he wanted to stay. But he paid the entrance fee, and the man pointed to another red door. After hesitating for a moment he went in. He was at the entrance to a maze. A wooden maze made of plywood. The light was dim, and the air was filled with the sounds of men making love. For a moment he thought about turning and leaving. Then, hesitantly, he took a step into the maze. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light he realized something. The maze's walls were not solid sheets of plywood. They were made of pegboard and were perforated 60


with thousands of tiny holes. Why would that be? He wondered. Then, as he moved forward, he realized why. Opening off the maze to either side were doors leading to little rooms. And the rooms were occupied. It was possible, thanks to the countless little holes in the wall, to see everything that was happening inside them. And the sounds in the air made what was happening perfectly clear: sex, hot sex, and lots of it. Here and there along the length of the maze, men stood watching through the holes in the pegboard, some of them naked and aroused, some of them in various states of undress. Some of them were masturbating, and at one point a guy on his knees was sucking off another guy, who was happily spying on whoever was inside one of the other rooms. It was a scene like nothing Zach had ever imagined. He had expected the place to be more or less like the back room at the Gaiety. But this! He couldn't resist looking himself. In the rooms men by twos, threes, and fours, were sucking, fucking, rimming, kissing, and making love in every imaginable combination. In one of them a guy hung suspended upside down; he and another guy sucked each other. Their gravity-defying version of sixty-nine drew a large crowd of Peeping Toms. Despite his best intentions, and despite his determination to focus on his future with Jim, Zach found the charged atmosphere contagious. In only moments he had a roaring hard-on. After a few minutes he reached the end of the maze. He was in a large room with black walls and light even dimmer than the light in the maze. The walls were solid plywood now, 61


not more pegboard. Smaller rooms opened off the main one, and they had no doors. He had to look. In the first room was an Indian tepee. As Zach watched, men crawled in and out of it, all of them naked, all sweating, all aroused. In the next room, lit by a solitary spotlight, was, of all things, a dentist chair, and next to it a table with all kinds of dental tools. A bearded man lay back in it as another fellated him and a third guy pushed a probe into his rectum. A third room was equipped with leather slings, whips, and other toys. Men used them all enthusiastically. And on and on. The varieties of sexual possibility seemed endless. The last door opened into a large video room. But it was not at all like the back room at the Gaiety. All four walls were movie screens, and there was an opening in the center of each for a projector for the opposite wall. The room was alive with larger-than-life images of men making love. One was of three soldiers, another of two leather men, a third of military recruits having an orgy with their drill sergeant, and the fourth of two swimmers. All around the room, just below the screens, risers rose in steps. Men lay on them, sat on them, stood on them, having sex in various positions and various combinations. A few men sat alone, watching the others or the movies, masturbating. It was like an image from a medieval painting of hell—except that it was more like heaven. In the middle of a group of men, Zach caught a flash of pink. It was Jean-Marc in his Speedo. The others were kissing and licking his body. Legs, cock, abs, nipples, mouth, there was no part of him that another guy wasn't servicing. Almost 62


hypnotized by the sight, Zach crossed to the riser he was on. "Jean-Marc," he whispered. "I thought—" Jean-Marc raised a finger to his lips, then extended his hand, beckoning. Zach climbed the risers to his side, and in an instant he was being stripped of his clothes. The men began worshiping his body, as they had Jean-Marc's. No one had ever kissed the soles of his feet before, and the sensation thrilled him. He moaned, and Jean-Marc quickly kissed him as if to stop his mouth. Zach was sucked, rimmed, fucked, and it was heaven or as close to it as he ever expected to come. He was engrossed in a surge of pure pleasure. He thought, This must be what the gods feel. When he finally climaxed, he shot his load all over Jean-Marc's face. Then, completely exhausted, he lay back on the riser and closed his eyes. He didn't mean to, but he fell asleep. He woke a moment later to find Jean-Marc, who had now shed his Speedo, sucking him. He interrupted his sucking to look up and whisper, "I want you to fuck me." Getting aroused enough to do it was easy for Zach. And he had always been taught to be considerate of other people, so he was happy to oblige. It was after four in the morning when he finally got back to the hostel. The concierge commented on the wide smile he was wearing. "I feel just like Ingrid Bergman," Zach told him. "I'll always have Paris." [Back to Table of Contents] 63


Chapter Eight Roman Holiday Paris left Zach exhausted. He wanted to see the French and Italian countryside, but on the train to Rome he was too tired to do anything but sleep. And even then his dreams were haunted by all his sexual adventures. Matt Maddox was standing nude and triumphant, on top of Notre Dame, the Eiffel Tower, and the Tower of London. He and Zach were making love in a dark, anonymous place. Paul the Tower guard, Hubertus, Jean-Marc, the forest ranger from that porn movie and scores of others were watching, cheering them on. At one point he dreamed that Hubertus was cheerfully torturing "Andy," the closet case from the Gaiety. Watching it excited Zach, like everything else in his dreams. He joined in enthusiastically, whipping the man with frank sexual glee. He didn't wake till the train pulled into the station at Rome and stopped with a jerk. And the first thing he did—the first thing he had to do—was go to a booth in the men's room and jerk off to relieve himself. He forced himself to imagine Jim making love to him, and he came quickly. Rome was no Paris, no Audrey Hepburn wonderland. Most of the city, to Zach's great disappointment, was modern—not the stuff movies, or movie fantasies, are made of. But he dutifully took in all the sights and tried not to pay too much attention to all the gorgeous Roman men, most of them dark and slim with just enough body hair. The Coliseum, the 64


Forum (or what was left of it), Hadrian's Tomb... He even found himself tracking down the sites he had seen in Fellini movies. One day he even went so far as to hunt for all the places where the monster had rampaged in 20 Million Miles to Earth. The big difference from Paris was that he was even more keenly aware of Rome's gay history. In France, that awareness had only dawned on him at Versailles. In Rome he knew about the histories of all the gay emperors, gay artists, even gay popes. Julius Caesar, Augustus, Hadrian... Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, Caravaggio, and there had even been an artist in the Renaissance who called himself Il Sodoma, "the Sodomite." He found the street where Pope Julius III had first spotted the beautiful young man Innocenzo and fallen madly in love with him. All of this he had learned in his college history courses, without even making much effort. How much more gay history lay hidden in the heart of Rome? Intellectualizing the city like that, turning it into a big history lesson, made it possible for Zach not to get caught up in all its present-day eroticism. And that was a good thing. For all the sexual adventures he'd had, and despite the way they haunted his dreams, they never really fulfilled him. At best they left him wanting more of the same, like potato chips. When he thought with his mind and his heart, not his dick, he knew what he wanted. For all the wild sex in the world, there had to be love too. Love, and trust, and commitment. There simply had to be. 65


Every day he picked up the English language newspaper so he could make certain not to miss anything of interest to him. Most of it caught his attention only marginally. Plays (in Italian, of course, so he could never understand them), operas, special exhibits at museums... He kept a special eye out for movie news. One day an item almost leaped off the page at him. A film unit would be working in Rome for the next two weeks, shooting scenes for the new Drastic Measures movie. Zach's heart leaped. Matt Maddox! Here was a chance to see him, get close to him, maybe even meet him. Images of what he thought Maddox's porn shoot must have looked like raced through his mind. No. He couldn't let that start again. Matt Maddox is a fantasy, he told himself. Thinking about him has gotten me into bed with strangers time after time. Not again. No! But Zach was twenty-one. What his heart told him and what his body wanted to do were two different things. He loved Italian food, and every single meal he had in Rome was divine. He made a special effort to find restaurants like the one where he had had that first dinner with Jim. Where the first spark of love and romance flickered to life. Red-checkered tablecloths, candles in wine bottles. Jim. He had to think about Jim. It was the ancient city, or what was left of it, that fascinated Zach. The biggest tourist attraction in Rome, the Vatican, he decided to put off until the end of his visit. He spent his days among the ancient ruins, thinking of Hadrian, Julius Caesar, and the other great gay and bisexual men who had ruled the world. On rainy days he'd go to the 66


Archaeological Museum and check out even more fragments of the ancient world. Then finally, the day arrived when the Drastic Measures shoot was to begin. The producers had somehow managed to get permission to shoot in St. Peter's Square, directly in front of the basilica. Naturally, Zach had to go there and watch. He hadn't had a chance yet to explore the Vatican. And besides, it was as close as he might ever get to the man of his dreams. The big trick for him would be to keep in mind that Maddox was only a dream. Nothing real would ever happen between them. The square was not crowded. He had expected huge throngs of people to watch the shoot, but there weren't very many—enough to fill the square but not the overwhelming press he had psyched himself for. All around the square members of the Swiss Guard, those men in the red, yellow, and blue uniforms who acted as Vatican City's police force, were in position and watching the crowd carefully. Just off the square, there were trailers set up for the actors' dressing rooms. An Italian guy took a spot just next to him, smiled, and said hi. Zach commented on the sparse crowd. "We get movie companies all the time in Rome," the man told him, "going all the way back to the days of Fellini and Visconti. We Romans are used to such things. Unless there is a really big star like Elizabeth Taylor or Marilyn Monroe, it is, how you say, no big deal." Matt Maddox, no big deal! Zach could hardly believe he had heard it. He had to remind himself that his, er, interest in 67


Maddox was quite personal. Not everybody shared it. It seemed really weird to him, but that was how it was. Still, he had to say something. "This movie has a pretty big star, doesn't it? I mean, Matt Maddox is—" "You don't know? This is only what they call a second unit. They are shooting backgrounds for a big fight scene or something." "But—but Maddox has to be here! I mean, he's the star of the picture." The Italian adopted the tone of a teacher lecturing a dim schoolboy. "The papers all say they are only shooting backgrounds and long shots. Maddox's double is here. He will be in them. They will film the close-ups of Maddox in the studio. If they need him here, they will put him in with special effects." Oh. Zach knew that, knew enough about how movies are made to understand it, and he felt foolish being reminded of it. Abashed, he moved to another spot. There were dozens of people working on the set: electricians, stagehands, camera people, assistants. Zach watched it all but didn't really see it. All he could think was that he wouldn't have a chance to get close to Matt Maddox after all. A man Zach took to be the director—well, the second unit director—took his place, and a few actors took positions in front of the camera. A guy he assumed had to be Maddox's double was among them. And there certainly was a strong resemblance to the star he was standing in for. Tall, dark, and athletic. He was wearing an expensive tailored suit, from 68


the looks of it, an Armani. Zach undressed him mentally and he had just enough body hair. He couldn't get too close, but from where he was standing the likeness was striking. It would certainly fool the camera and the audience. They were shooting an elaborate fight scene. There was a lot of running around, shooting of prop guns, and bright red stage blood. Zach watched as the fake Maddox beat the crap out of Middle Eastern types in bad suits. There was a prop imitation of the famous obelisk at the center of the square, and the hero pushed it over onto one of the bad guys. It was all very disappointing to him. He would have preferred a scene with the al Qaeda villains torturing Matt. Damn Hubertus. They rehearsed the scene again and again. Then they filmed it—again and again. One take was ruined when a pigeon crapped on one of the villains. The actors all changed into fresh costumes not stained by fake blood or bird poop, another obelisk was set up, and another take began. A plane flew overhead, casting a shadow on the scene and ruining it. There was take after take, and something went wrong each time. Zach was getting bored. He had always heard that movie actors spend more time standing around and waiting than they do actually performing before the camera. Boy, if every shoot was like this, they really earned their salaries. Finally in mid-afternoon the director called it quits for the day. The actors were exhausted, and new props and costumes had to be prepared. Shooting would resume the next day. 69


Slowly the crowd dispersed, and the actors headed back to their trailers. Most of the Swiss Guard left their positions around the square and went back to their usual posts inside the basilica. Zach found himself staring at St. Peter's, wondering if there was any way hot guys could sunbathe on its roof. He hadn't explored any of the Vatican yet, and he definitely wanted to see all the works by the Renaissance's great gay artists. Michelangelo, Bernini... this place was a monument to their genius. So he went inside. Nothing prepared him for the vast interior space. It was huge, and the clever design of the architecture made it seem even larger. There was the most eerie stillness, despite the presence of dozens of tourists. He wandered about taking it all in—the architectural ornaments, the frescoes on the walls, the famous "twisting" columns designed by Bernini. He spotted a small doorway opening off one side of the main building. It was barely more than five feet tall, and he reminded himself that people in the Renaissance were shorter than us and would have had no trouble using it. Someone had almost certainly left it open by mistake. Curious where it might lead, he stooped and walked through it. This was his chance to see something most tourists never would. The passage was narrow, dark, and dusty. Clearly it wasn't used much. The only light came from a small window high in the wall at the far end. The corridor went on for thirty feet then turned to the left. From somewhere in the distance came sounds, human sounds, sounds Zach recognized—the sounds of passion. Curious, knowing that he probably shouldn't be 70


there, he crept along, making as little noise as he could, wanting to see. After turning the corner the passage went on for another twenty feet or so and ended at the foot of a flight of steps. Just at the bottom of the steps were two Swiss Guards. His impulse was to turn and get out as fast as he could. But he caught himself. They were kissing, locked in passionate embrace, and their tunics were open to the waist. They were young men, fair-haired, and lean. They were two of the blondest men he had ever seen. He could tell they had good bodies, athletic bodies, despite their bulky Renaissance-style uniforms. As he watched, they held each other tighter and tighter. They ran their hands along each other's bodies. Zach couldn't believe he was seeing it. He took a step back and peeped at them furtively from around the corner. One of them dropped his trousers and sat on the steps, his partner got down on his knees and began to service him. Then suddenly Zach felt a hand on his shoulder. The jig was up. He knew he'd be ushered out and only hoped he wouldn't actually be arrested. He couldn't look at whoever had collared him. "You shouldn't be here," said a man's voice in a low whisper. "I know it. I just wanted to see—" He turned to face the man. It was not another guard, as he'd feared. This man was tall, dark, and handsome. He dressed in khakis, a polo shirt, and loafers. In an instant Zach recognized him: He was Matt 71


Maddox's double. He held a finger up to his lips and Zach fell silent. The guy peeked around the corner. "Oh," he whispered. "I see what's got your interest." Zach smiled, feeling slightly ashamed. But Mr. Double didn't move. He stood behind Zach and put his arms around him, then looked around the corner at the guards again. His arms were strong and hairy. Zach let himself lean back against the man. And then he felt the guy's hand slide down the front of his body and begin stroking his crotch. A hundred images flashed through Zach's mind. Jim, Paul, Hubertus, Jean-Marc, forest rangers... and Matt Maddox. Matt Maddox was behind him, holding him, fondling him. Or as close to Matt Maddox as he was ever likely to get. He savored what was happening. And he reached back and returned the favor, stroking Double's crotch in return. Matt, I'm touching Matt. The Swiss Guardsmen heard something and it made them stop what they were doing. They looked back where Zach and Double were standing, startled. Then when they realized they hadn't been caught by anyone official, they seemed to relax a bit. Zach gaped at them. They were half naked by now, and they had roaring erections. Somehow, their multicolored clothes made seeing them that much more erotic. Slowly, one of them beckoned. "Come and join us," one of them whispered. 72


Zach looked at Maddox. No, at Double—he had to remind himself this wasn't really his Matt. Double smiled. "Let's go." Zach was overwhelmed by the situation, and by being in it with almost-but-not-quite Matt Maddox. "No! I—you—I mean we—" Another smile. "Stay here then. I can't pass up guys that cute. Watch, if you want to." He walked down the corridor and joined the guards. In an instant he had slipped off his shoes and stripped naked except for his socks. One of the guards kissed him, and the other one kneeled down and began sucking his cock. It was too incredible. The guy looked so much like Maddox it was uncanny, more than just the passing resemblance a stand-in ought to have. One of the guards got down behind him and started licking his butt. Mr. Double looked at Zach, smiled, and beckoned him to come join the action. Zach was tempted, but for once he stopped himself. He had done this before, and it had always left him feeling—Maybe if this had been the real Mat Maddox... But it wasn't, and that was that. Still, the action unfolding before him was so hot. Three men, all with beautiful bodies, giving themselves and each other so much pleasure they seemed to have lost control. Pleasure was driving them, pure pleasure. Zach couldn't stand it. Looking over his shoulder to make sure no one could see, he unzipped his fly and started to jerk off. He watched as Not-Matt and the two guards went through every position possible for three men. Not-Matt fucked one of the guards, and the other one moved behind him and fucked 73


him, too, while he was doing it. If Zach squinted a bit he could convince himself the man he was seeing really was Matt Maddox. He exploded and shot his load all over the wall and floor. Not-Matt looked back at him and grinned, then went on with what he was doing. Zach leaned back against the wall and caught his breath. This was too dicey. The roof of Notre Dame had been chancy enough, but that was blase Paris. This was Rome. St. Peter's was a famous monument in a much more conservative country. He zipped up, took one last look at the threesome, who were quite lost in their passion, and left quickly. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Nine Alexander the Great Athens was sharply different from Rome. The crowds were just as thick, but the atmosphere was more relaxed, more casual. Maybe it was the closeness of the Mediterranean. Zach had read that Romans had never forgotten that their city had once ruled the world, but the Athenians, despite their fabulous past, lived in the present. The youth hostel there was much like the one in Paris. Students from all around the world shared huge dorm rooms, showers, and toilet facilities. Most of them had brought their laptops or tablets along, and they spent a lot of time working on them. Zach was glad he'd left his at home. He wanted to see Athens, not the Internet. There was a bookstore not far from the hostel that sold English-language books and magazines. Zach stopped to browse there his first afternoon in the city. There were newspapers from all over, the New York Times, the International Herald Tribune and dozens more. Athens was the first place he'd visited where he knew zero of the language, and he thought it would be a good idea to buy a good, cheap guidebook. Quite by chance he spotted the perfect one on a shelf at the back of the store. It was called The Gay Traveler's Guide to Athens and the Greek Islands. It was only five euros, so he picked it up. He had always heard that modern Greece was a lot more homophobic than classical 75


Greece had been, so he wasn't sure what to expect from the checkout clerk. But the guy smiled at him and said, "Happy cruising." But cruising for sex was the last thing on his mind. Thinking back on his European adventure so far, he felt mildly ashamed at how little self-control he'd shown. Resisting the chance to join Matt Maddox's double in a mini-orgy was the one thing he could feel proud of. The guidebook turned out to be just what he wanted. No tips on cruising, no directions to gay bars, no lists of sex clubs (if there even were any). Instead it pointed out the rich gay history of classical Greece and detailed each monument's connection to gay history. Plato, Pericles, Euripides... and of course Alexander the Great and his lover Hephaestion. Zach was filled with more and more pride as he found his way around the city. If he had a spiritual home, he decided, Athens was it. Most of ancient Athens had long since been built over; the modern city needed the room. But the guidebook pointed him to many of the famous places. He found the spot where the Academy of Aristotle had been. And there was the famous stoa, where Stoic philosophy was born. Not far from it was the site of the gymnasium, where Athenian men had gone to find lovers. When he visited the Acropolis, the ancient buildings overwhelmed him. Scaffolds surrounded the Parthenon. Workmen, most of them wearing only cutoffs and work boots, were restoring and preserving it. It seemed fitting that they wore so little. The guidebook explained that the Parthenon 76


had been built during the reign of Pericles, the great ruler who as a young man had had a relationship with the much older Socrates. And then there was Alexander the Great, who fell in love with one of his generals, the famous Hephaestion. And Hephaestion was older than Alexander. Everywhere Zach went he saw reminders of Alexander—pubs, cafes, hotels, even department stores named after him. The recurring pattern in ancient Greece was not lost on him: younger men with older men. Everywhere. He couldn't help thinking of himself and Jim as lovers in that mold. Hephaestion, in Zach's mind, looked like an older version of Jim Hessler. Jim Hessler—who was waiting for him back home. I'm finding my bearings, he told himself. This trip has taught me so much about myself. I know what I want. But it hadn't taught him enough, as it turned out. One night, exhausted from sightseeing, he decided to hang out in the hostel instead of going out to see more of the city. He thumbed through the guidebook, noting more places he wanted to visit. A guy not far from him was working on his laptop. Just as he was finishing up, Zach asked if he could use it for a moment. Most of his friends knew he'd be incommunicado while he was in Europe, but there just might be an important email from someone. It sure wouldn't hurt to check. His "junk mail" folder was filled with hundreds of spam messages, and he deleted them with a quick mouse click. There was nothing else that required his attention. But... 77


The guy who owned the laptop was engaged in conversation with another student across the room. Zach thought they were cruising each other. He decided to browse online for a few minutes. Naturally the first site he visited was The Back Fence. Most of the headlines didn't interest him—closeted politicians caught with their pants down, the usual kind of thing. But one headline fairly jumped out at him. "MATT MADDOX CAUGHT" it read. Hoping for some juicy sexual scandal, Zach read eagerly. But the story wasn't about sex at all. Instead it was about a clever publicity dodge for the new Drastic Measures picture: Shooting involves action sequences in several European capitals. In order to discourage crowds of onlookers, which would inevitably slow down production, Regal Crown Pictures' PR department has cleverly planted false stories claiming that the shoots around Europe are only being done by second units filming with doubles for the movie's star players. In fact the picture's top-billed star, luscious Matt Maddox, is really appearing in these sequences. Crowds so far in Rome, Berlin, and Zurich have been sparse, so the ploy appears to be working. It took a moment for Zach to realize what he'd just read. Jesus Christ! That had really been Matt Maddox at St. Peter's! He had held Zach, fondled him, stroked his crotch. He had beckoned Zach to join him and the two Swiss Guards. And Zach, like a damn fool, had not done it. The thing he'd been dreaming of all his life had dropped into his lap and he had brushed it aside like a breadcrumb. Jesus fucking Christ! 78


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Chapter Ten Love in Bloom Zach's flight back to the States was delayed four times. There were ferocious storms over the Atlantic. So his flight had to stop first in Portugal, then in the Canary Islands, and still again in Newfoundland. He had planned to get back in time to settle in comfortably for the new semester, but thanks to International Airlines he was rushed more than he imagined possible. He had had more dreams about Matt Maddox than seemed reasonable even to him. Even when he was awake he found Maddox popping into his thoughts continually. The least little thing—a word or phrase from one of his movies, the sight of someone dressed like him in one of them—would trigger the wildest fantasies. Half the men he saw—flight attendants, baggage handlers, other travelers— did, or said, or wore something that reminded him of "his" Matt. Zach started to wonder if his fixation on the guy might be a bit unhealthy. But, hey, he told himself, everyone has fantasies. I'm just one lucky guy, in that mine came that close to coming true. I guess. Yet if there was one thing he had learned about himself on his European odyssey, it was that quick, casual sex, though it could be exciting and satisfying in the short term, was nowhere close to fulfilling for him in the long term. Soon he would be with Jim. Soon a loving, stable relationship 80


would no longer be a fantasy for him. Soon he wouldn't need his mental images of Matt Maddox anymore. When he finally got back to campus and his dorm, he was exhausted. He checked in with the Resident Assistant, so he was officially back, and made his way up to the room. Without thinking, he opened the door and went in without knocking. And found Kyle in bed with his girlfriend. She screamed and pulled the sheet up around herself. Kyle was unperturbed though. He got out of the bed, buck naked, erection raging, smiled, and said hi. "I was wondering when you'd get here." Zach apologized for intruding like he had. "Sorry about this. I'll just run down to the cafe and get a sandwich till you're finished. "We won't be long." The girl, on the other hand, was nearly hysterical. She kept looking from one of them to the other as if she couldn't believe they were having such a friendly exchange. But three years of living together had made them as familiar as brothers. Zach parked his bags and went to eat. Over his roast beef sandwich in the cafeteria, he found himself again thinking of Jim. Everyone everywhere was having sex, more than just casual sex, and he felt like he was on the outside looking in—like a starving man seeing a turkey dinner through a plate-glass window. He knew he had fucked like a damn rabbit all over Europe, and that didn't bother him. But it wasn't what he wanted, not ultimately. The secretary in the Psych Department recognized Zach as one of their students. When she saw him come in, she smiled, nodded, and waved him back toward the faculty offices. 81


"Is Jim Hessler still in 256?" She nodded again, and Zach went on into the bowels of the department. At Jim's door he paused. A wave of nervousness swept over him. Jim. Love. Here. Within my grasp. He started to knock, then caught himself. Should I tell him about everything I did in Europe? What would he think of me Deciding quickly that honesty is the best policy, he knocked. But why rush things? Maybe not just yet... He'd know when the time was right. From inside came Jim's voice. "Come in." Jim was sitting at his desk, dressed in his usual jeans and tweed jacket. As the door opened and he saw Zach, his expression didn't change. He was serious, taciturn. Not even a twinkle in his eye said he was glad to see him. Slowly, deliberately, he said, "Zach. Close the door." This wasn't at all the reception Zach was expecting. He had been feeling bright and optimistic, but now... He shut the door behind himself and said uncertainly, "Hi, Jim." Without saying a word Jim got to his feet and crossed the room to him. Then suddenly he broke into a wide smile and threw his arms around him. "I thought you'd never get back. It's been forever." Zach kissed him, and it was the warmest, most passionate kiss he'd ever tasted. "My... my plane was delayed. I'd have been here three days ago if... Sorry." "Don't be. God, but it's good to see you again, Zach."

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"You too. I thought about you all over Europe. Everywhere I went." Well, he told himself, it is true, kind of, mostly, more or less. Jim took him by the shoulders and they looked into each other's eyes. And they both broke into grins at the same moment. Then they kissed again, for a good long time. "What are you doing for dinner, Zach?" "No plans. I still have to get settled in. I—" "Meet me here at seven." Still again they kissed. It was like they had been lovers forever, not teacher and student, not campus acquaintances. The chemistry was that good. Zach found himself thinking, I wouldn't trade all the sex in Europe for this. And I get more tonight. He barely remembered Europe and Maddox as he walked back to his dorm, and he barely noticed that Kyle still had his girl in the room. They had finished their lovemaking and were sitting on the bed talking. But nothing in the world registered—nothing except Jim. Jim had made reservations at that same Italian restaurant where they'd had their first dinner together. The same waiter took their orders, and he beamed at them as he did it. "You look happy tonight, Phil." Jim sipped his water as he scanned the menu. "I can't help it," the waiter told them. "I moved in with my boyfriend today." "There's something in the air, all right." He reached across the table and took Zach's hand. They had veal parmigiana, and it was delicious. When they were finished, Phil asked if they wanted any dessert. Jim 83


looked at Zach, who shook his head. "No thanks. I think we'll have plenty of sweet stuff to eat real soon now." They walked back to Jim's apartment hand in hand, and neither of them minded who saw them. Zach asked, "Should we be so open? I mean, you're on the faculty and I am still a student here." "Do you have any idea how many college instructors have affairs with their students? We're getting to the party late. It's why half of us become teachers in the first place. I have dirt on everyone in the department, up to and including the chairman. Besides, you're not in any of my classes now. There's no conflict of interest." "So no one would think I'm making love to you for a grade?" Jim laughed. "You're already well on your way to an A+." And at the front door he asked, "Are you staying the night?" "You have to ask?" Jim had a bottle of champagne chilling, and the surprise bowled Zach over completely. "Do you always have that stuff around here? I mean, you're not an alcoholic, are you?" "Shut up and drink." They sat on the couch, arms around each other, drinking their champagne and watching a movie on DVD. Jim had rented Teacher's Pet, in which student Doris Day falls in love with teacher Clark Gable, and the choice left Zach laughing still again. "Wait a minute, doesn't that make me Doris Day?" "If the shoe fits, Zach..." Jim kissed him lightly on the lips, then more deeply. 84


Sex—the kind he had known up till now—had always been anonymous and serious. Romance with someone he knew and liked—romance that was fun in ways other than just sexually—was a new experience, and he took to it at once. When the movie ended and the wine was gone, they went to bed. Jim's body was leaner and hairier than Zach had expected—he had a lot more hair than just enough, and he had pretty obviously been working out. He was better endowed, though Zach thought Jim's circumcised cock, after all those uncut Europeans, looked a bit too, er, streamlined. But he sucked it for all he was worth. In fact he used everything he had learned in Europe to give pleasure to his man, plus a few things he had never tried before. When Jim licked his feet, Zach was both amused and thrilled. And he reciprocated, gladly. "You're really into feet, aren't you Jim?" "Well, yeah. Do you mind?" "Not at all. I want to make you happy." And he sucked Jim long and hard, and nibbled his nipples. Hearing Jim moan softly with pleasure excited him more than anything ever had. Well... more than almost anything. The image of Matt Maddox and the guards kept flashing through his mind, despite his best intentions. Jim whispered to him, "I want you to fuck me" "But... but I've never done that before. I've always been on the bottom." "Then it's time you did." "But Jim, you're the older guy. You're supposed to be the dominant one." 85


"Don't be conventional. Come on, Zach, give it to me." He turned and wagged his butt at him. It was perfect—perfectly round, hairy, and hard. Zach didn't have to be asked again. He shoved his cock inside Jim and slowly established a rhythm. Before long the two of them were moaning together, in harmony. And when they came, they came at the same time. Afterwards they lay on the bed, arms and legs intertwined. Jim said, "I always knew you were a quick learner." "A great teacher makes all the difference." After a few more bits of pillow talk they both fell asleep, still holding one another, still happy. Zach dreamed of those two Swiss Guards, with Jim between them. Though he was not at all conscious of it, he was becoming more and more aware of the power of fantasies—sexual fantasies. The following weekend was a holiday weekend. They decided to spend Labor Day at the local amusement park. It was a "traditional" park, not a big, impersonal theme park, and they both loved rides, so it was a natural fit for them. The place was crowded, mobbed, but the crowds were irrelevant. Zach and Jim's focus was squarely on each other. They walked side by side, close together, and on the thrill rides they even held hands. They ate cotton candy and hot dogs, and each of them held his food out to the other so he could take a bite. Strangers in the crowd made occasional wisecracks about the two of them, but they barely noticed. They held hands on the roller coaster, and when they went down the first, big hill Jim screamed like a little girl. Over the 86


roar of the wheels Zach said, "You're the older guy. You're supposed to be more butch." "Maybe I should change my name to Babette." "Just try it." Zach poked him playfully. The Ferris wheel was super-tall, and it was Zach's turn to go all girly. He tensed up like a coiled spring, but he restrained himself from screaming. "Are you okay, Zach?" "Yeah. No. I'm—I'm afraid of heights. I don't know how I managed on the Eiffel Tower. I should never have gotten on this damn thing." Jim took his hand and held it tightly till the ride finally ended. Still again Zach found himself thinking how much like a corny old movie it all was. But he didn't care. He'd play Doris Day—hell, he'd even play Shirley Temple if it came to that—if that's what love meant. He used to be aware what fantasies movies are, and how powerful those fantasies could be. But now... this was reality. He wanted Jim more and more, and the time they spent together was more and more like what he'd always dreamed of. Late in the afternoon they came to the "Tunnel of Love." They paused for a second, looked at each other, then broke out laughing. What the hell. The line was long, full of lovers and almost-lovers on dates. Most of them were holding hands and even making out while they waited to reach the front of the line, and Zach and Jim did too. Again there were a few snide comments, but they didn't matter in the least. 87


When it was finally their turn to board a little boat, the attendant steadied it for them, smiled at them, and they got in. He was about Zach's age, maybe a year or two younger, probably a student working there for the summer, and the smile he gave them was unmistakable. As he pushed off their boat he told them in a loud whisper, "Have a nice ride, guys. You're a breath of fresh air for me." The boat glided slowly through a pitch-black tunnel, and along both sides of it animated figures of pirates, ghosts, and skeletons jumped out at them. But Jim and Zach were kissing and fondling each other, becoming more and more aroused, and none of it registered. The president and half of Congress could have been there, making scary faces at them, and it wouldn't have mattered. After a few minutes Jim slid his hand down to Zach's crotch. He started to open his fly and take his cock out. Zach panicked a bit. "No, not here!" "Do you think the pirates will object?" "No, but—" "This is the Tunnel of Love, Zach. They call it that for a reason." Zach fell silent, and Jim went down on him, sucking furiously. Zach had barely gotten hard when he saw the light at the end of the tunnel. Jim got back up, Zach zipped up and they both straightened their clothes. People seeing them come out of the tunnel might never have suspected what they'd been doing. That same attendant was waiting. Jim asked if they could go around again. 88


The attendant looked doubtful. "We're pretty crowded. People are waiting." "Please. We're not finished yet." The kid glanced at the crowd. "Well... okay, just once more." He pushed off their boat and it slipped into the tunnel again. This time Jim didn't waste a moment. The instant the light faded he undid Zach's fly and started sucking again. Pirates waved their swords, ghosts howled, and Zach moaned softly with pleasure. But just as he was getting ready to come they reached the end of the tunnel again. Zip up, straighten clothes, act casual. When Jim asked the attendant to let them ride a third time—"Please!"—the kid looked at the line again and saw that it was thinning a bit. But there were still people waiting. He hesitated, then found his resolve. "Oh, what the fuck. Have a good ride. And make this the last one, okay?" Zach knew he was close to coming. "We promise." "Good." The kid broke into a broad grin. "Think of me as being with you in spirit, okay?" Jim laughed. "Sure thing." Into the tunnel again, fly undone and cock out. Jim sucked. And there, between Long John Silver and Casper the Friendly Ghost, Zach had the most incredible orgasm. He felt like he'd never stop shooting. And Jim took every drop of it. When they finally came out of the ride again, Zach was still zipping up his fly. A different attendant was on duty, an older guy. He scowled at them and shooed them out of their boat. "You guys should be ashamed." 89


As he stepped out of the gondola Jim said, "Well, we're not. Get used to it. Go and hassle some straight couple." And so their fantasy day in a fantasy park came to an end. "So, what are your plans after graduation?" Jim lay on the couch in his apartment, wearing nothing but his boxers and white sweat socks, sipping a cocktail. They had been seeing each other for a month and a half. Every day after both had finished their classes, they'd meet for dinner, then go back to Jim's and make love. Weekends they were together nonstop. When Zach had class assignments to work on, he took his laptop to Jim's and worked there. And they had had more sex than Zach had ever dreamed of. They had it often, energetically—and everywhere. They had fucked in the men's room of the city's symphony hall. They had furtively jerked each other off in the auditorium of a movie theater. At a performance of Hamlet they sneaked into the theater's balcony, which was supposed to be closed, and sucked each other off. There were mall rest rooms, department store men's rooms, and on and on... And of course they did it all over campus. In the library, in the chapel, in Jim's office, in the Psych Department conference room... But most of their lovemaking took place in Jim's bedroom, in his bed. Their sex was better and better each time they made love. Jim taught Zach about things his body could do for him that he'd never suspected. And their sex wasn't only vanilla. Every variety of kink known to gay mankind was part 90


of their agenda: spanking, role playing, light torture, even some water sports when they showered together. There were so many new tastes, new smells, new sensations, and it was all too delicious. Guys in college are supposed to have raging hormones, but Zach's were positively rampaging. And he loved every second of it. Zach had been too insecure to initiate any talk of the future. He had decided to wait and let Jim do it. Jim would know when he was ready, and Zach had enough common sense not to rush him. He himself was ready, and he knew it. So when Jim finally broached the subject, Zach didn't hesitate. "Well, next semester I do my internship. It'll probably be on one of the local papers, and with luck they'll offer me a job." "What if you have to move?" "We can cross that bridge when we come to it, I guess. Would you—would you even consider moving with me? I mean, I know you're coming up for tenure here. And I wouldn't ask you to give up your career here for me. But—" "There are teaching jobs everywhere, Zach. Moving wouldn't be that big a deal for me. This town's pretty dull, anyway. We've already, uh, liberated every place of interest." So the subject had been broached. And their talk was promising. Zach had what he wanted. His sexual dreams and fantasies, when he had them, turned more and more on himself and Jim, less and less on himself and Matt Maddox. Everything was perfect. Jim loved his herringbone tweed sports jacket with the elbow patches. He wore it all the time, in all kinds of weather, 91


no matter the occasion. He seemed to think it was his uniform, required by some obscure academic regulation. He even wore it for lovemaking a few times—just the jacket and nothing else. And he actually looked pretty hot that way. Zach was turned on by the sight. In his clothes closet Jim had not just one, but five identical jackets. When Zach found them one day he was puzzled. How could anyone want to wear the same thing all the time? Oh well, he told himself, there are weirder fetishes. I guess. But when Jim's birthday came around, on October 22, Zach surprised him with a new sports coat—burgundy corduroy, with elbow patches of course. Jim's reaction caught him completely off guard. "You don't like my tweeds?" "I do, Jim. I just thought a change now and then might be—" "You hate my tweeds." "No, I—" "You have no right to try to change me." "But I—" Jim softened a bit. "Look, I know you mean well. But this," he held out the corduroy jacket, "this just isn't me. I could never wear this." "You could if you wanted to. At least try it on. For me." Reluctantly he put it on. It looked great on him. It fit perfectly, and the color went beautifully with his complexion. But when he looked in the mirror he scowled. "No, I just can't see it." "But—" "I can't wear this thing, Zach." 92


And that was that. Jim went back to his tweeds, Zach returned the corduroy jacket, and the matter was ended. Jim never wore his tweeds again for sex. It was the first sign that everything between them might not be as ideal as Zach imagined. But he was so lost in his Doris Day fantasy, he barely noticed. In his mind it was a minor bump on the road to a relationship, nothing more. Inevitably there came a time when the novelty of sex between them began to wear off. At least it did for Jim, maybe because he was older. He began putting Zach off. "I have papers to grade." "There's a faculty senate meeting tonight." "I promised a colleague I'd help him move his office." "I have a conference with one of my advisees." And there were a lot more excuses, some even more obvious. Zach wasn't dumb. He had known all along that the first flush of love couldn't last. But even though it had faded for Jim, Zach was still constantly horny and ready for whatever sex he could get. Those hormones of his were still on fire— and more than ever. There had to be a way to spark Jim's interest again. He thought about playing hard to get, pretending he too had gotten tired of their constant copulation. But he knew that would never work. At the sound of Jim's zipper opening, his resolve not to give in to him would evaporate instantly. Then he hit on a strategy. Hmm, he thought, maybe it's time to tell him about Europe. And so over dinner one night at their favorite Italian place, Zach pretended to pay lot of attention to the new waiter. The guy was younger than Zach, a freshman or maybe a 93


sophomore, with pale skin and bright red hair—not somebody he'd normally pay attention to. But he never took his eyes off him. Jim noticed. It was clear he was getting annoyed. "You're with me, remember?" "Oh. Sorry. He just reminds me of someone, and I can't figure out who." "Not me, huh?" "Don't be jealous. And don't be silly. He just—" He made a show of trying to remember. Then suddenly he snapped his fingers and grinned broadly. "Of course!" Jim was still being moody. "Well, are you going to tell me?" But Zach ignored the question and summoned the waiter to their table. "Were you by any chance in France last summer?" "Me? In France?" The kid was quite baffled by it. "No way." "You've never been to Club Cadinot, then?" "What's that?" "Nothing. Never mind. Sorry to bother you." The kid went off to take some orders from patrons at other tables. It had the desired effect on Jim. He was plainly annoyed, if not actually jealous. "What the hell is Club Cadinot?" "Nothing, Jim. Don't give it another thought." "Tell me." Zach sighed, pretending to be resigned to the interrogation but happy his little ploy was working. "It's a sex club in Paris. Drink your wine." 94


"You went to a sex club?" "Not now, Jim. People can hear." Conversation was awkward for the rest of their dinner. But once they were back at Jim's, things opened up. "So, you went to a sex club?" Zach nodded and put on a sheepish grin. "I don't believe it. That's not at all like you." He was breezy. "That's Paris for you." He picked up a magazine off the coffee table and pretended to read. "Damn it, Zach, I want to know about this." "There's not much to tell, really." "So tell." Zach heaved a pretend sigh. "I was invited there by the guy I met on the roof of Notre Dame." He put on a wistful smile, as if he was reliving a sweet moment. "We had—er, we met on the roof of the cathedral. He was sunbathing there." Shyly he added, "In the nude." "That's bullshit." He paused. "What happened?" "His name was Jean-Marc. There were half a dozen guys there, all of them in the nude. Jean-Marc and I started. Then one by one the others joined us. It was incredible. Right there atop Notre Dame." "It never happened, Zach. It can't have." "Okay, if you say so." He went back to his magazine. "What about this club?" Zach sighed again and tossed the magazine aside. He was warming up to his story. "Well, after we were finished, JeanMarc asked me to meet him at Club Cadinot that night. It's in 95


the Rue de la Chat qui Peche. Do you know French? It means 'the street of the cat who fishes.'" "I know what it means, damn it." Jim was getting aroused, and it showed. "You went there?" He nodded. "It was the most fantastic place. A sexual Disneyland." "Tell me." "Well..." He proceeded to describe the club in vivid detail, the perforated walls, the Indian tepee, the dentist chair, the video room... and he even invented a few new touches. "There was one area decked out like a construction site. There was even a room where you could put on priests' vestments or dress as an altar boy." And there was one more addition to the facts: Zach made a point of injecting himself into every scene he described, with every guy, every couple, and every group. Except for the finale in the video room, it was all invention. But Jim lapped it all up like a hungry dog. Finally he couldn't stand it any longer. "If you don't undress me and fuck me, Zach, I don't know what I'll do." They had the best sex they'd had for weeks, maybe the best ever. Jim was wildly uninhibited, and Zach played along eagerly. They each came three times. It was fantastic. Best of all, Zach had learned the power of sexual fantasy, the way it could fire up an apathetic man. And he had finally found another outlet for his imaginative side. Who needed to write stories when invention could lead to a night like this? [Back to Table of Contents] 96


Chapter Eleven The End of the Affair They spent Thanksgiving together, and when the winter holidays came around they made a mutual decision not to go home to visit their families but to be together. More and more, Jim told Zach things like, "I love you," "I want to be with you the rest of my life," "I'll never want anyone but you," and on and on. Zach was always careful to let Jim take these initiatives, partly because Jim was the older partner, partly because he was still a bit too insecure to take the lead himself. The rebuke he got over that corduroy sports jacket pretty much insured that. At Christmas the latest Drastic Measures movie hit the theaters. Surprisingly it was Jim who suggested they see it— not that Zach gave him an argument. It wasn't much of a movie, just more of "Bash" Corrigan's antics, beating up every bad guy on the planet. Zach paid special attention to the scene in St. Peter's Square though. I should have joined in, he told himself. I should have joined in. I'll be kicking myself for the rest of my life for not joining in. Then he remembered he was with Jim, and that was that. Throughout the movie, Maddox was dressed impeccably, mostly in suits by Armani. Zach longed for the good old days of short jungle loincloths and pink Speedos. But there was one brief scene where Maddox took a shower in a hotel room. It wasn't very revealing, but Zach saw enough to confirm 97


that, yes, that had been "his" Matt at the Vatican. He took Jim's hand and squeezed it. Jim squeezed back and whispered to Zach, "God, he's hot. I've never seen him before. Now I know what all the hype's about." Zach stayed pointedly silent. "What, you mean you don't agree? Just look at him, Zach. He's gorgeous. Even the way he moves is so damn sexy." "Yeah, I guess I see what you mean." Zach played dumb. "I've never seen him before, either. We'll have to see if any of his older movies are on cable." That night they made love. And for the first time, it wasn't just Zach who had fantasies about Matt Maddox. When the new semester started, just after New Year's, Zach began his internship, at a local paper called the SunTelegraph. It wasn't anything like what he expected. He was assigned nothing but routine office duties—typing, filing, sorting the mail, that kind of thing. Some days he had nothing more important to do than make coffee for the reporters. He had never realized, never imagined at all, that internships are free entry-level labor for companies. But he did everything that was asked of him, and did it with pleasure. Love does that to a guy. And everyone at the S-T seemed to like him. And when he finally got the chance to go out on a story with one of the reporters, it was like getting a breath of fresh air. Until he found out what he was covering, that is. The first story he was assigned to was a police raid on a gay sex club in the seedier part of town. Needless to say, he had never 98


been there. He was expecting something on the order of Club Cadinot in Paris. But when the call came in on the police scanner and he and his partner arrived at the scene, he was shocked at what a shabby, seedy, run-down place it was. It was a lesson in the contrast between Europe and the United States. But he was startled to see, among the rounded-up patrons of the place, his old pal "Andy," the married guy from the Gaiety. See? he thought, honesty really is the best policy. I wonder how he'll explain this to his wife. But that was "Andy's" problem. As "Andy" was being herded into the police van, he seemed to recognize Zach and started to say something. But the cop behind him prodded him with his nightstick, and he got into the van and sat down. That was that. Zach never even got to contribute to the story. He did, however, get to make a nice, fresh pot of coffee for the reporter. During his internship, Zach technically still resided on campus, in his dorm room with Kyle. But the Sun-Telegraph seemed to want to get every bit of work it could out of him. He spent long hours at the office, doing the usual busywork and once in a while getting to ride along with a reporter on a story. So it became convenient for him to take a cheap oneroom apartment near the office. Kyle didn't mind—he was happy to have the dorm room to himself. But Zach saw a lot less of Jim than either of them would have liked.

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They still got together several times a week for dinner and, usually, a movie. But their lovemaking sessions were curtailed by Zach's need to be up and at the office as early as possible. Jim commented on it once. "I miss having you around all the time. You need to spend less time at work." "I can't help it. I—" "Who is your loyalty to, the Sun-Telegraph or me?" "Jesus, Jim, I can't believe you're pulling that emotional blackmail act. That was corny when John Adams was in diapers." Jim sulked. "Your place is here with me, that's all." Zach made a face and stuck out his tongue. "I have a faculty senate meeting." "Touche." He pouted even more. "But you can't blame me for wanting you, can you?" "Are you implying that I don't want you? Will you stop this chicken-shit, Jim? I feel like I'm in junior high." The exchange ended with neither of them happy. The following Wednesday was Valentine's Day. Zach was feeling mildly guilty. Maybe I am ignoring him a bit too much, he thought. I mustn't let the paper dominate my life. To make amends, he sneaked out of the office early and stopped at two stores for flowers and candy. He was sure that would put things back on the right track. Jim wasn't in his apartment. Zach knocked repeatedly, then used his key and went in, only to find the place empty. He glanced at his watch; classes for the day must be over. But Jim must still be on campus, probably in his office. 100


The department secretary was just packing up her things, getting ready to leave for the day. Seeing the flowers and candy Zach had brought, she made a comment about love in bloom. Zach asked if Jim was still in his office. She nodded and said goodnight. Jim's office was the last one at the end of a corridor. Zach paused outside the door. Should he knock, or would it be more fun to surprise Jim? Finding his resolve, he grabbed the doorknob and pushed the door open. Jim was lying across his desk, wearing his usual jeans and tweeds. But he was barefoot, with his feet hanging over the edge of the desk. And on his knees beside the desk, kissing Jim's feet, licking them, sucking his toes, was a guy Zach's age. In a flash Zach recognized him as Toby Marriner, the tennis player who had come on to him in the past. Toby was 100 percent buck naked, and his dick was stiff as a board. Hearing Zach enter, they froze. Toby spoke first. He still had one of Jim's feet in his hand. "Zach! We didn't think—I mean, we didn't know—" Zach's face was frozen too—into a scowl. Jim's lack of interest, and all those nights he'd had to work late for one reason or another—it all made sense now. "Relax, Toby. I didn't mean to barge in." "This isn't what you think, Zach." Jim pulled himself free of Toby. "What do I think?" "That we—I mean, we weren't—"

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Zach was numb. So much for I love you and I don't want to be with anyone but you. "This must be a really handy arrangement, isn't it?" "What do you mean?" Toby was lost. "You can have sex and play 'This Little Piggy' at the same time. But don't mind me, fellas. I'll just be going. I have to get to a faculty senate meeting." He left, slamming the door behind him. In the reception area the secretary was just buttoning up her coat. Zach pushed the flowers and chocolates into her hands. "Happy Valentine's Day, Mrs. Slocum. That's more than I'll have." And in an instant he was gone. He rushed back to Jim's apartment and started getting his things together. Just as he was about to leave, Jim came in. "Zach, I'm sorry. It's just that you've been so busy lately. So unavailable." "That's right, Jim. It's my fault." "I'm not saying that." "Yes, you are. And don't expect me to believe this is the first time. All those student conferences that kept you working late. All those faculty senate meetings. It's like something out of a bad comedy. And I'm the butt of the jokes." "Zach, I—" "Go on, say it. 'I love you, Zach.'" His voice was a sneer, almost a growl. " 'I don't want to be with anyone but you.' How pathetic." Jim pressed. "Can't we talk about this?" 102


"Talk to Toby. Or is it hard for him to converse with your toes in his mouth?" "Zach, please! Toby is—I'm his adviser. He turns to me for advice" "Oh, yeah. He worships at your feet. If you're playing around this early in our—what do you want to call it? relationship?—what will you be doing a year from now?" "Please, Zach, I promise you it won't happen again." Zach had finished gathering his things. "I'm sorry, Jim, but there's no way I can believe that. I'd be crazy to. I'll see you around." And that was, as the saying goes, the end of the affair. Men. Men and their damn hormones. Zach had been wildly sexual himself, of course, in Europe, but that was before things really heated up with Jim—and before any kind of commitment, before any love-talk. Was there a man anywhere who could be trusted? Was trust even a good idea? Waiting for St. Francis to come along was a bad idea, that much was clear to Zach. He had to take control. If there was one thing he had learned it was the power of sexual fantasy—its power to arouse, its power to take charge of a man. And he knew he was good at spinning just those fantasies. And what's more he had learned how to use it. Next time, he would take control. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Twelve The Front Page Zach graduated with honors. He had excelled, particularly in the field of journalistic ethics, and had written several impressive papers on the need in his chosen field for honesty with readers, and trust from sources. The staff at the SunTelegraph had all come to like and respect him, and his editor there praised him extravagantly to the chair of the journalism department. Jim had tried to reconcile with him, but Zach would have none of it. "I still love you, Zach." "More or less than you love Toby Marriner?" Jim pouted. "You still hate me." "No, I don't hate you, Jim. But you're not what I want. I thought you were, but you're not. It's as simple as that." "Nothing's that simple." "This is." When Jim attended the graduation ceremony, dressed in his academic robes like the rest of the faculty, he tried again. Zach was cordial but aloof. He was about to embark on a new life in New York. There was no room in it for Jim. He had had three job offers that he considered seriously. One was from the Sun-Telegraph, one from a regional newspaper in Michigan, and the third, to his complete delight, was from The Back Fence. Of course, the other two jobs would have given him the chance to practice real, actual 104


journalism, the profession he'd been preparing for during his four years at college. But The Back Fence! He'd been reading it for years. It was a chance he couldn't pass up. And he really didn't want to stay in the Midwest. Besides, a lot of their reporters moved into television reporting. That would pay better than any Midwestern newspaper ever could. The Back Fence paid his moving expenses and found him a little apartment in Brooklyn. Philip Brandon met him at the airport and drove him to his new digs. "It's good to see you again, Mr. Brandon." "We're co-workers now. Call me Phil." "I want to thank you for letting me use you as a reference when I applied to The Back Fence." "Don't give it a thought. You're a good writer." Like every first time visitor to New York, Zach couldn't stop watching all the sights. They were passing a huge park, and since it was late spring the place was lush with flowers and greenery. "Is this Central Park?" "Not even close," Phil chuckled. "We're in Brooklyn, not Manhattan. This is Prospect Park." "I see." The other thing he noticed was the men, lots of them, including lots of attractive ones. He commented on it. "That's New York City for you, Zach. The men here know something about style—how to dress and how to groom themselves. It's hard to walk two blocks without passing a guy you want to get it on with." "That kind of thing—that kind of casual hookup—that's not me." He hoped he didn't sound like a hick. 105


"It's not for me either, really. Don't apologize. Not everybody is into that. But the men are there. And our fantasies do kick into high gear once in a while." "You're telling me." Zach's new apartment was not far from the park. It was a lot smaller than he would have liked, but it was near a shopping district and the subway. "It'll take you a few months to learn your way around." Phil was being protective, almost fatherly for some reason. "But you can get anywhere you need to go fairly quickly from here on the subway. I think you'll like it." "How did you find an apartment for me? Was it a hassle?" "Not at all. Our managing editor is your landlord." He glanced at the time. "Listen, I've got to get moving. I have to interview a closeted soap star and listen to him tell me all about how straight he is. Like I said: fantasies." He gave Zach his home, office, and cell numbers. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to call." It was Thursday afternoon when Zach got to his new digs, and he didn't have to report to work till Monday. He spent the weekend unpacking, arranging his place to his liking, and checking out the neighborhood. There were plenty of stores within easy walking distance, and he loved the park. There seemed to be attractive men everywhere: jogging, shopping, walking their dogs. And everywhere he went people were friendly. He had always heard New Yorkers were rude, but that didn't really seem to be the case. He decided very quickly that he was going to like living there. 106


The Back Fence's office was located on West Seventeenth Street in Manhattan. The subway left Zach quite close to it. Everyone there was gruff and businesslike—which he had already come to expect— he had seen enough old movies to know. And there was no mistaking it for anything but a newspaper office. Stacks of papers everywhere, piles of manuscripts, and paper cups half filled with coffee. The city had banned smoking, but if he squinted he could almost see clouds of cigarette smoke in the air. Phil showed him around the facility and introduced him to everyone. About half the staff seemed to be gay men and women. Zach felt at home, right away. The editor-in-chief was a guy named Harvey Adams. Zach adored him on first sight. He looked exactly like a gruff, grizzled editor from a thirties movie—short, stout, and hair unkempt. Despite New York City's smoking ban, Adams always had an unlit cigar in his mouth, and he chomped on it incessantly. He assigned Zach a cubicle, then ushered him into his own office for the first day/new employee schmooze. "There are only two rules here, and you have to remember them both. First, all celebrities are saints. Absolute saints, made of plaster and painted. They love their mothers. They help orphans and abandoned puppies. Until they do something really stupid, illegal or both, and the halos fall off. Then it's open season on them. Got that?" "Yes, sir."

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"And if they go into rehab or just make a public apology, they get a fresh coat of paint, and it doesn't peel off till they fuck up again. Which they always do." "Yes, sir." "If they're over the hill or still young and don't have good publicists, you can print anything you want about them. Otherwise, we go with the line their publicists lay down." "Yes, sir." "And cut out the 'sir' bullshit. It won't do you any good. My name's Harvey." "Yes, si—yes, Harvey." "Now let me introduce you to Sam Hardy. He's our best man. He'll be checking your work for a while, just till you get used to the way we do things." "I've been reading The Back Fence for years, si—Harvey. I already know your style and all that." Harvey rolled his eyes. "Just what I need. A kid fresh out of college who thinks he knows what he's doing. Come on." Zach's duties would be routine and basic for the first few months, till he "learned the ropes" (Harvey talked in the same cliches The Back Fence used in print all the time). Then he'd be given a beat of his own to cover. Sam Hardy was Harvey's opposite: tall, elegantly dressed, and gay as the proverbial goose. He had Zach read the half dozen most recent issues, "just to see where we are. You have to know which celebrities we're going after right now, and which ones are off limits." "What makes a celebrity off limits?" 108


"Their publicists, and even more than that, their lawyers. If they're rich and powerful enough to have a really good legal team, we don't touch them. A few lawsuits could put this place out of business overnight. But if they're too old or too young or too washed up, we bare the knives and go after them. Got it?" "Sure, Sam." He wasn't sure whether to bring it up so early, but he couldn't restrain himself. "Um... what about Matt Maddox?" Sam narrowed his eyes. "What about him?" "He's gay, isn't he?" "Not while he's represented by Perrin, Balzer, Gordon, and Goldman, he isn't. The damn sharks. They've wanted to put us out of business for years. They protect Maddox, and all the other movie stars they represent, like mother bears guard their cubs. But—" He grinned like a schoolboy. "If you're curious about the bastard, we have a file on him three inches thick." Zach was mildly embarrassed at having given himself away in such an obvious way. He blushed. "Relax, Zach. You're among friends here." He glanced back at Adams' office. "Well, mostly." "It's just that—" "I said relax. When I was your age I had a crush on Rock Hudson. I even got to interview him once." There was a wistful gleam in his eye. Zach just had to ask. "And...?"

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"And none of your damn business." He turned and started to go. Then he looked back over his shoulder and said, "He was quite a guy, Rock was." It turned out that Zach's "routine duties" consisted of scouring other publications for hot gossip and hotter leads. He'd then farm them out to the experienced reporters for follow-up. It was easy work, and Zach thanked his lucky stars he had found a job that was so undemanding yet paid so well—and in such a great city. At first, Phil Brandon hovered around him like a mother hen, making sure he didn't have any problems adjusting to the place. He took Zach to lunch every day his first week there and showed him around the neighborhood and pointed out all the hotspots, good stores, and gay bars. "I'm not really much of a drinker, Phil." "Neither am I. But my boyfriend is a dyed-in-the-wool barfly, so I end up going out a lot more than I'd like. Ain't love grand?" Zach laughed. "While it lasts." "What shocking cynicism in so young a man," he chortled. "Just wait till you're my age." After those first few days, seeing that Zach was adjusting well, Phil pretty much left him alone. Work was humdrum but easy. Over the weeks, Zach got to know everyone, and he began to get the gist of office politics. Harvey was the undisputed honcho; no one did anything without his approval. The managing editor, a woman named Sara Jones, was the one who cleaned up after him and did his hatchet work when it was necessary. The overall atmosphere 110


was businesslike and orderly, despite all the office clutter. Everyone seemed to like Zach, and he settled into his job with no trouble. The one thing he wished he could change was his cubicle. From where he sat, he had a direct line of sight to the file cabinet where, snooping randomly one day, he found the bulky file marked "Matt Maddox." He wanted to take it out, thumb through it, and find those porn shots Maddox had posed for early in his career. Not that they'd hold any surprises for him, he had already seen Maddox in action, but still... every time he glanced out of his cube, the cabinet was there. It seemed almost to beckon him, lure him, seduce him. Come and look, Zach. Matt is here, sucking cock, fucking, getting fucked. Come and look. Come and see him. But there, in the middle of the office... there was no way he could do it. Someday, someday when a new Maddox story broke... Someday he'd come in early, before anyone else, or he'd stay late. Suddenly Zach found that thought alarming. Matt, he thought, my Matt. What if he comes out and marries another guy? Where will I be then? The realization was too horrible. He had to push all thought of Maddox out of his mind. Somehow he had to convince himself to stop thinking about him and wanting him. At least, he told himself, I've got Jim out of my system. A revival house in Greenwich Village booked a double bill of Maddox's old Tarzan movies. It was part of a series they were doing called "High Camp from the Early Careers of 111


Today's Stars." Zach didn't remember them as being camp, they were pretty good adventure movies, even though he had to admit to himself they were on the juvenile side. Of course, he had been a high school kid when he saw them. Telling himself he was really over his Maddox fixation, Zach left work early and went to the first matinee. Here was a chance to recapture a bit of his teenage years. The theater was crowded with customers. Zach eavesdropped on conversations in the lobby, before the program started, and it was pretty obvious that few if any of them shared his obsession with Maddox. They had been drawn in by the ads' promise of high camp, period. He even heard one guy comment to his girlfriend, "Camp is all Maddox can do. Is there a worse actor in Hollywood?" It stung. And it stung even more when the girlfriend answered, "Only a queer could take him seriously" He had to butt in. "Lots of people like him. Haven't you seen the reviews for his last few pictures?" Giggling, she responded, "Have you seen the pictures themselves?" Instead of answering the couple just laughed. The girl turned to her beau and said, "See?" Zach was suitably cowed by it, and when he went into the auditorium he made certain to sit far from them. Which wasn't hard—the place was big enough. He told himself there would be a larger crowd at evening showings, larger and more respectful. He hoped. Maybe he should ask for a refund and come back after supper. 112


But just as he was thinking that, the lights dimmed and the program started. First up was an old Bugs Bunny cartoon with Bugs getting into drag to bamboozle Elmer Fudd. Then came the first feature. There was Matt Maddox in his oh-sobrief Tarzan loincloth, beating the crap out of bug-eyed monsters from outer space. Zach was sixteen again. He couldn't take his eyes off the man. This wasn't Tarzan. This was a god. For the first time—thanks to his experience with Jim—he noticed Matt's feet. They were perfect, beautiful, with the most sensuous curve to the arches. Oh, what he'd missed before. Then came the second movie, with Maddox in his even briefer loincloth. Once or twice, as he swung through the trees, it flapped up and gave a glimpse of his naked ass. Somehow Zach hadn't noticed that before. And... was there one spot in the movie where you could actually get a fleeting peek at his cock? No! That couldn't be! He'd have noticed. Was it possible he was really so clueless as a kid that he missed that stuff? He left the theater feeling a weird combination of exhilaration and frustration. Exhilaration at reliving his teenage moments and frustration at...well, at a lot of things. At the comments that woman in the lobby had made. At having been such a gullible kid. And most of all, at having missed his chance to make love to his god. In Rome, yet. That night he had trouble sleeping. It was a warm night. He peeled off his clothes and got into bed naked. But sleep wouldn't come. Restless, he decided to get up and take a 113


walk in the park. Despite the late hour there were people there, as there always were. Guys were jogging, and some of them were wearing running shorts almost as brief as Maddox's loincloth. Watching them, he felt his dick getting erect. It was the last thing he needed. He went home, poured himself a stiff drink and went back to bed. This time, thanks to the alcohol, he dropped off quickly, and dreamed. He was in a dark place, a place with no special character. Matt Maddox was there, wearing nothing but his loincloth. They looked into one another's eyes. Their longing was palpable, their desire burned. They kissed. They licked each other's bodies, licked them everywhere. From out of the darkness, Jim emerged. He was watching them and burning with envy. He started to move toward them, to join them, but Maddox glared at him, warning him not to. Knowing Jim was still watching, Zach got down on his knees and worshipped Matt's feet. He kissed them and he licked them. Matt raised one foot, and Zach licked the sole. From the corner of is eye he watched Jim, whose face showed a combination of arousal and fury. Jim stroked himself and tried to jerk off, but he didn't have a cock. Zach and Matt went on with their lovemaking. They kissed more and more, and then they sucked. When it was finally time for them to fuck, Zach took the top. He was in charge. He had to be. They came in a flood of jizz. And, with the logic of a dream, it splattered all over Jim's face. He made to wipe it off 114


and then lick his fingers clean. But just at that moment, the alarm clock went off. Zach opened his eyes with a start. The bed was wet with come. For the third time since his early teen years, he had had a wet dream. Matt Maddox. He knew he had to have him. There had to be a way. He would find it. But how? [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Thirteen Five Star Final After a few months on the job, Harvey finally trusted Zach enough to assign him a story to cover. A famous actress named Lisa Moroni, an Academy Award winner and frequent star on Broadway, had been seen hanging out at a gay bar in Chelsea, not far from the Back Fence office. She had a reputation for marrying men who she knew were gay, then blaming them when the marriages fell apart. In fact, she had done that six times. Rumor had it that she'd been haunting this bar, acting like a lioness on the hunt, clearly looking for a new mark. Zach was instructed to hang out there himself, to see if there was any truth to the gossip. It was his first break on the paper. The story would carry a byline and likely run on the front page. Lisa Moroni was always news, thanks to ongoing substance abuse problems and her weird matrimonial habits. Zach wasn't at all sure he was the right reporter for the story. "I'm not much for bars," he told Harvey. "I don't really drink very much." He put on a sheepish grin. "Hardly at all, in fact." Harvey chomped his unlit cigar. "So the fuck what? I want a story on Lisa Moroni, not Jim Beam." "But... but how do I explain my presence there?" "Didn't they teach you a damn thing in those college journalism courses?" He said it with a pronounced sneer. "In my day, we did whatever we had to do to get the story. Use 116


your guile." He added dismissively, "If you have any. But get the dirt on Moroni." So Zach got the assignment despite his reservations. At least he knew that if he did a good job with it, it would cement his position at the paper. The bar was a dive called The Loose Screw and it was on West Twenty-second Street, way over by the Hudson River. It was not an area Zach knew at all, or wanted to, but work was work. At least hanging out there wouldn't be quite as tedious as hunting for leads in other newspapers. Who knows? he told himself, I might even meet a boyfriend. There was only one man for him and he knew it, but he put that out of his mind, or rather he tried to. Matt Maddox...he might as well pin his hopes on Charlemagne. The bar was dimly lit, like all gay bars everywhere, and there were strings of twinkle lights, er, disco lights all around the place. At the rear were a few booths. The patrons were on the butch side, at least in appearance. There were guys in leather, denim, flannel shirts, and not a pair of khakis or a polo shirt in sight. When they talked, they were so queeny Zach had to laugh—not because they were on the feminine side, but because of the contrast between the image they were trying to project and the reality of their personalities. It wasn't exactly a gold mine of boyfriend material. Zach sat at the bar, smiled at the bartender, and ordered a Coke. The barman, a guy in his twenties, was wearing black leather shorts and work boots. His nipples were pierced and a chain hung between them. Zach made noncommittal 117


conversation with him for a few minutes and then went on to chat up a few of the customers. He didn't learn a lot, but yes, Lisa Moroni did hang there a lot, usually on weekends, and not too late at night. Having tracked down that info, Zach finished his Coke and left. He'd be back when there was a chance of seeing Moroni; he had no interest in hanging around the Loose Screw except for professional reasons. The overly effeminate leathermen were making him nervous. One of the less well-known perks of being a reporter, or "media professional" to give it its pretentious due, was the raft of free stuff. People in the media get free CDs and DVDs, free theater tickets, invitations to pre-release movie screenings—all in hopes they'll drop a plug or two into their copy. Back at the office, he updated Harvey on the Moroni story. "I'll go back on Friday or Saturday night. With luck she'll be there and I can massage some juicy quotes out of her." Then he went back to his desk. Slowly his name was making its way onto press lists. In his mail he found a come-on from a company called Cheap-O Flicks, that seemed to specialize in DVDs of, well, cheap-o flicks. He was about to pitch it when one title jumped off the page at him. They were releasing a disc with both of Maddox's Tarzan movies on it. There was a phone number for the press contact. Zach called, and just like that the disc was on its way to him. Now there were two things for him to look forward to: meeting Lisa Moroni at the Loose Screw and doing 118


a story on her, and watching Matt Maddox's loincloth flap up in slow motion on his DVD player. "You're from Toledo, aren't you?" Harvey chewed his cigar. He was in a surlier mood than usual. He had summoned Zach to his office but had given no indication what he wanted. It was Thursday afternoon. The new issue was out, and things in the office were winding down for the week. Zach was looking forward to the weekend. He'd be heading back to the Loose Screw to meet Lisa Moroni—with a bit of luck. Better yet, his Maddox DVD should be arriving soon. The weekend would be... well, not exactly like seeing Matt in Rome again, but a fair substitute. Harvey's summons caught him by surprise. But it was a nice surprise. It could only mean another assignment. He made himself smile at his boss. "Yeah, Toledo, Ohio. May I never see it again." "Too many bad memories? I came north from Alabama. I can relate." "Bad memories, yes. But none I can't handle, if it comes to that." "Good. I'm sending you back there." "To Toledo! For God's sake, Harvey, Why?" Instead of answering, Harvey handed him a sheet of paper. "This just came in by fax." Zach scanned it. It was barely legible, but it seemed to be a press release from a major Hollywood studio. "You need to have someone put fresh toner in the fax machine." "Don't be a smartass, Regan. Just read." "Yes, sir." 119


It was hard to make out, what with the faint print. But yes, it was a studio press release, all right. It was an announcement that The Adventures of Sinbad the Sailor, starring "dashing leading man Matt Maddox," would be filmed on location in Toledo, Ohio, starting in three months. It explained that there were state-of-the-art filmmaking facilities in Toledo—which came as news to Zach—and that Lake Erie could double very convincingly for the ocean. It went on to say that pre-production had already started. Elaborate costumes and sets were being made, and reproductions of medieval sailing ships were being built. Part of the waterfront was being converted to stand in for medieval Baghdad. Zach finished reading and looked up at Harvey. He wasn't sure how to react, but the thought of going back to Toledo wasn't a happy one. Harvey struck a match, and then remembered that smoking was outlawed. "Damn." He glared at Zach, as if the anti-smoking law was his doing. "Well." "Well... ?" "Don't be cute with me. You're going to Toledo to see what you can find out about Maddox. We've been wanting to get some really good dirt on him for years." "I'm not sure how I'd feel about outing him." "What do you think we're in business for? If he was caught shoplifting, or if he had a drug habit, the public has a right to know about it. Don't they?"

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Zach glanced at the press release again. "When I think of the ancient Middle East, Toledo isn't exactly the first place that comes to mind." "We're talking about the movies, here. If they can give us Keanu Reeves as Buddha and Leonardo DeCaprio as Louis XIV, Toledo standing in for Baghdad is nothing." This was making Zach mildly uncomfortable. Movies were his fantasy world. Too much reality brought it down with a thud. He shifted ground. "I heard we already have a file on Maddox." "We do. But his damn lawyers threaten us with a million dollar lawsuit every time we turn up something on him. We need something they can't possibly refute or even explain away. You know what a story like that would do for our circulation?" He gestured vaguely toward the outer office. "Go through that file. I want you to know Maddox better than he knows himself." Instead of saying what he was thinking—I already do— Zach just nodded, "Will I have a press pass for the location?" "No. This is strictly undercover stuff. If they even suspect you're connected to The Back Fence they'll have you barred from the set and from the whole damn city, if they can swing it. You wouldn't be the first tabloid reporter to get kicked out of town." "But you're from there originally. That gives you a plausible excuse for being there—visiting family and friends, going back to your old school, that kind of thing. That's the beauty of it. And you know the city. You'll be able to find the sets and locations without any trouble." He hesitated for a 121


moment. "...If you think this might be too big for you, I can always send a more experienced man along with you." "No, I can handle it. I'm glad you'd trust me with it. But—" "Yeah?" "What exactly is it you want me to find?" "Dirt, damn it. Any dirt at all. Maddox is gay. Catch him in a compromising position—with witnesses, so we can print the damn story. Better yet, get him to come out of his closet. Get something, anything." The thought was making him uneasy. "But... what if he's really straight?" "Who do you think you're talking to, some rube from Toledo?" "Sorry, Harvey." "Now go out and read Maddox's file." The interview was over. As Zach was leaving the office, Harvey added, "And don't jerk off when you see the pictures. They cost us twenty grand, and God only knows how we'd ever replace them. Don't go getting them all sticky." "Yes, sir." And that was that. Zach had mixed feelings about this assignment. He didn't really want to see Toledo again, not so soon after leaving. He also didn't really want to be in a position of spying on Maddox. On the other hand, this could conceivably get him closer to the man than he might ever have the chance to be again. At least he now had a valid excuse for reading the Maddox file. He wouldn't have to do it on the sly and hope no one noticed. He went directly to the filing cabinet and found it. It 122


was thick, as thick as a phone book. Lots of good reading tonight. But there was way too much to read in one sitting. Maddox had been, er, indiscreet on a lot of occasions, more so than a closeted public figure ought to be. He was lucky to have that legal team to squash any reports or rumors. The entries in the file were roughly chronological, starting back around the time of Captain Marvel. Item: Maddox picked up the parking valet at a swank Hollywood restaurant. The valet talked—told stories about the hottest night of sex he'd ever had. Enter the legal eagles, and the kid shut his mouth. Item: He got caught in a police raid on a male brothel staffed by active-duty marines. Item: A young actor, a bit player in the first Drastic Measures, was spotted in a corner of the set giving him head. He was bought off with bigger roles and was now considered one of the hottest young actors in the business, a real rising star. Item: Maddox and several male friends, two of whom were known to be gay, went to Aspen for a "private ski weekend." Again there were payoffs, hush money, and threatened lawsuits. And on and on: personal trainers, travel agents, housepainters, clergymen, professional clowns with Ringling Bros.... Some of the reports were brief and sketchy; some went into remarkable detail. All of them were conveniently (for Maddox's lawyers) unverifiable, which made the witnesses who came forward easy to intimidate. 123


But one thing emerged quite clearly. The good majority of Maddox's partners—all of them quite willing, apparently—had been fair-haired younger guys. No wonder he had gone with those two Swiss Guards in the Vatican. The fact wasn't lost on Zach: he himself was definitely Maddox's type. He thumbed quickly through the bulk of the reports. A lot of them were hot, but there was a sameness to them. Maddox met this guy or picked up that guy and they had wild, steamy sex. After a while even Zach's sexual imagination was worn down. The incredible number of Maddox's sex partners was overwhelming. His lawyers must have really been terrific to hush all them up. He found himself wondering how many other Hollywood stars had similar track records—records the public were never likely to know about. At the end of the file was a manila envelope labeled Sensitive in black marker. That had to be what Zach really wanted to see. Reading all the stories in print had given him an erection at first, but after a while it passed. Now... these had to be those porn pictures Phil Brandon had mentioned back when. At the mere thought of them Zach's dick sprang to attention again. He slid the photos carefully out of the envelope. There were dozens of them, and yes, these were the ones. That magazine couldn't have run them all; they'd have filled an entire issue. They were glossy black-and-white shots. From the hairstyles on the guys he thought they must be from the mid nineties. The pictures were a series, telling a definite story. There was no way to tell if they were actually done to illustrate a story; only the pics themselves were there, there 124


was no text. Except at the bottom of each shot was a small printed caption that read The Man Who Shot for Liberty Valance. In the first shot Matt was dressed in a cowboy costume: skin-tight jeans, checkered shirt, bandana, leather vest, and cowboy boots. His jeans were so tight the bulge in his crotch showed clearly. He was leaning casually on a prop fence, holding a lariat. He was younger than Zach had ever seen him, certainly younger than in his movies, in his late teens or very early twenties. The background was black. This was a place with no particular character, no specific reality: Pornland. In the next shot a guy in a white sailor's uniform, complete with a perky little sailor's cap, appeared in the background. His costume was every bit as tight as Maddox's; the outline of his cock and balls showed clearly through his pants. He was, Zach noticed right away, blond. Shot three: Matt gestured to him, beckoning, in a move that reminded Zach of the way Maddox had beckoned to him in Rome. The series seemed to go on forever. The sailor approached Maddox. They groped each other. They kissed. The sailor got down on his knees and licked Maddox's cowboy boots. Matt tied him up with his lariat. More kissing, more fondling. Maddox sucked his cock. He untied his "slave" and fucked him. Zach paged through the pics faster and faster. Eventually he began to flip through them quite rapidly, so they played almost like a mini porn movie. The sailor bent him over and 125


spanked him, and the shots were so good Zach almost felt like he could hear the guy's palm slapping Maddox's butt . Then Sailor Boy took his turn fucking Maddox. There was a tight close-up of Matt's face as he was being screwed, and his expression was one of sheer ecstasy. Zach leafed through the photos again and again. Each time he grew more excited. Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore. He had seen porn before of course, but none of it had ever excited him quite like this. It was like having that scene with the Swiss Guards right there in his hands, and he was free to fast-forward or pause the action at will. He got his cock out and began to jerk it, faster and faster. When he came it was like an explosion. His load shot halfway across the room. Then, quite exhausted, he closed his eyes and napped. And dreamed, of course—about him and Matt Maddox, making wild, hot love on the waterfront in Toledo. Kissing, spanking, sucking, fucking... When he awoke it was well after dark. The mental session with Matt, instead of tiring him, exhilarated him. He got into a pair of running shorts and sneakers and went out for a run through the park. Other guys were out, too, running or just cruising. Some of them leaned suggestively under lamps or struck suggestive poses on park benches. And there were straight guys too, or at any rate guys who weren't obviously cruising for hookups—jogging, walking their dogs, happy on their own. With each one he passed, Zach smiled just a bit more broadly. He could have them all, if he wanted. After Matt Maddox, anything was possible. But he knew he didn't 126


want even one of them. He had almost had Matt in Rome. In Toledo, he would have him. The only question in his mind was how? How could he break Matt of his wild habit of sleeping with everyone, and turn him into the ideal husband? There was a way. There had to be a way. As he ran through the darkened park, it was all he could think about. Where there's a will, there's a way. But how? How? How? [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Fourteen Barfly Friday morning, Zach's Maddox/Tarzan DVD was in his mail at the office. He tucked it lovingly into his backpack and got down to work, scanning national and international papers and magazines for juicy stories. Mostly it was the usual stuff, horny movie stars, politicians that couldn't keep it in their pants, that kind of thing. But one item from Italy leaped off the page at him: Two of the Vatican's Swiss Guards had been caught having sex with an Albanian cardinal in an alcove at St. Peter's. They had been sacked. The cardinal claimed they had forced themselves on him, so he didn't even get a reprimand. There was a picture of the two guards. Zach tried to see if he could recognize them, but the picture wasn't very sharp and they were in full uniform, including their steel helmets. Feeling nostalgic, he hoped these weren't the two guys he had shared his Matt encounter with. He marked the story and forwarded to the reporter who covered the European beat. There might be a file on that cardinal; he might have gotten caught before. But later in the day he got the lead back with a note from Harvey attached that read, "Don't bother with stories like this. Sex and the clergy is an old story. If we covered it we wouldn't have space for anything else." 128


The rest of the day was fairly dull. Routine stories, office politics, stale donuts in the break room. The straight guys spent a lot of time around the water cooler, arguing about what would happen in that weekend's baseball games. Why not just wait and see? At the end of the day, it was time for Zach to go back to the Loose Screw and see if he could find Lisa Moroni there. He toyed briefly with the thought of going home first and changing into jeans and a flannel shirt, so he'd fit in more comfortably with the regular crowd there, but decided not to bother. What the fuck, it wasn't like he needed to really establish a presence there or that he'd become a regular. So he went in his khakis and sport shirt, with his little preppyboy backpack. The one thing he made certain to take along was his voice recorder. Late afternoon sunlight poured in the front windows, and the bar seemed even more dingy than he remembered it. There was sawdust on the floor, something he'd only seen in old Westerns, and cobwebs in the corners. The Friday happyhour crowd was thick, lots of the usual guys who looked ohso-butch but talked and acted like Julia Roberts. There was a different bartender this time. He looked Zach up and down and wrinkled his nose, as if Zach's preppy clothes were a faux pas on the order of farting at a state funeral. Zach decided to ignore it and commented to him on the condition of the place. The guy shrugged. "If you only knew how hard it is to make this place look so unappealing." 129


"You mean... this is intentional!" The bartender smirked. "If you want squeaky-clean little twinks with dust mops, and drag queens with Hoovers, you're really in the wrong place." "No, but I—" "You have any idea what it costs us to keep the Health Department off our backs?" Zach ordered his usual soft drink; the bartender smirked again, gave him his Coke, and went off to tend to other customers. Zach became aware of the guy sitting next to him. His looks were almost aggressively masculine, and he was positively dripping with leather. He smiled, and Zach braced himself for a queeny come-on. But surprisingly the guy really was masculine; his appearance wasn't phony. He raised his glass to Zach and said hi. Zach returned his toast but didn't say anything. But Mr. Leatherman wasn't about to be put off. "Wow, you really look like you've come to the wrong party." Again Zach kept silent, but he raised an eyebrow inquiringly. "This is a butch bar." He couldn't resist. "Really? I feel like I'm on the set of The Women." Leatherman laughed. "Yeah, we get a lot of these fauxmasculine queeny types. What are you drinking?" Suddenly Zach turned to jelly. After complaining about nelly types, how could he admit he was drinking soda? He 130


asked for what he thought of as a man's drink. "Uh... rum and Coke." "Sure." He ordered for both of them. The bartender registered mild surprise. "Well, even Chihuahuas have balls, I guess." The leather guy handed Zach his drink. "I've noticed you in here before." "Oh. Uh... sorry I can't return the compliment." "That's okay. We get your type in here a lot. And always for the same reason. Aren't you the guy who's looking for Lisa Moroni?" "Well, yeah." He tried not to look and sound too abashed. They guy laughed at him. "Well, she's here now. In that corner booth back there." "She is?" "Yeah, and drunk as a pig, like always. She might even be too drunk to write her autograph, but I guess you can go and ask." Zach gazed at the booth. It was bathed in even darker shadows than most of the place, but he could just barely make out a woman there. If it really was Moroni, he had work to do. He glanced back at the leather guy, and for the first time took a good look at him. The guy was a bit older and not at all bad looking. Tall, muscular, with way more than just enough body hair. If it wasn't for the preposterous leather costume he was wearing, Zach might actually have found him attractive. But he couldn't let that distract him from Moroni. "I'll catch up with you later. Thanks for the drink." 131


He got his voice recorder out of his backpack, switched it on and slipped it into his breast pocket, then headed for Moroni's booth. She was drinking alone. Lisa Moroni had been famous for her "street gamine" looks, but they had faded pretty badly. Years of drinking, drugs, and bad marriages had left her ruined. Her face was lined with wrinkles, which thick layers of makeup couldn't disguise. Her raven hair was streaked with white. Her hands shook quite visibly as she raised a glass to her lips. "Hi. Do you mind if I join you?" She looked at him, and her famous saucer eyes widened. "You're cute. Sit down." As he slid into the booth, he was shocked at her pathetic appearance. He decided to tell her frankly that he was with The Back Fence. But before he could speak, she reached across the table and took hold of his arm. "You're cute." "Thanks. You said that. I—" "I'm Lisa. Wanna fuck?" He was shocked by it. The only thing he could think of was the voice recorder in his pocket. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'm gay." He added weakly, "That's why I come here." She lit a cigarette, and he noticed she was wearing green nail polish. A woman her age, trying to be a teenage temptress. "I know you're gay, for Christ's sake. That's the turn-on." "But I—" "Do you wanna fuck or don't you?" 132


"I'm afraid I—" "Come on. Don't be narrow-minded. You have something against straight women?" "Not at all. I'm just not attracted to them. I'm with—" "Then let's fuck. If you're any good, we can even date. You want to get married?" The woman had clearly gone off the rails. "You'd marry a gay man? I mean, knowing that he's gay?" "I never marry anything else." One of her false eyelashes fell into her drink. She kept drinking anyway. "You like crack?" "I told you—I'm gay." "No, dumbass, crack. Cocaine." "Oh." It was getting weirder and weirder. "No, I'm just a square, wholesome boy from the Midwest." "Oh." She seemed not to get it. "Let's fuck then." It went on like that for another twenty minutes. Zach kept trying to get her to focus. She kept propositioning him. He was glad he had his recorder switched on or no one would believe it. The woman was pathetic, but she was so overbearing he kept wanting to laugh at her. Finally, when she realized once and for all that he didn't want to sleep with her, she told him to "get the fuck out of my booth." He got up, told her it was nice to meet her, switched off his recorder and headed back to the bar. The encounter was so unlike anything he was used to, it freaked him out, not totally, but enough so that he needed to talk to someone sane. Well, sane compared to Lisa Moroni, at 133


least. Even the guys in the Loose Screw were normal by comparison. That same leather guy was there. He had watched the scene with amusement. "So you've met an Academy Awardwinning actress. How did it go?" "Buy me another drink." The guy laughed. "Sure." Looking back over his shoulder, Zach said, "She's crazy." "You didn't know that? I mean, don't you read the tabloids?" It brought Zach back to earth a bit. Their drinks came and he sipped his. The bartender had mixed it strong. "Thanks. I really need this. I feel like I've just met Lucretia Borgia, Lizzie Borden, and Lady Macbeth all rolled into one." The leather man said his name was Bob. Zach introduced himself, and they shook hands. Bob seemed to be still amused. "So you really came here just to meet Madame Guillotine?" He took a long drink then added, "That's what the regulars here call her. We're not exactly the right crowd for diva worship. But guys like you..." "Yeah, I guess I did. You hang out here a lot?" Bob nodded. "What do you mean, guys like me?" "Clean-cut guys. Preppies. Vanilla twinks." Zach bristled, but he knew it was essentially true. But he had to protest. A guy who had had an orgasm in the Vatican couldn't be too vanilla, could he? "I'm not like that." "Do you have any tattoos?" 134


He shook his head. "I'm not interested in being punctured." "Then you haven't been pierced either?" "Only my heart. But I—" Bob smiled, and it was a sweet smile. "Relax. I'm just playing with your head. You're kind of cute." "Thanks. Same to you." He reached out and put a hand on Zach's arm. "I've always liked blond guys." The drink was affecting him. Bob was looking more and more attractive to him. Even the bar itself was looking more and more like a decent place. He shouldn't drink; alcohol always affected him like this, and he knew it. He reached out and stroked the hair on Bob's chest. "You're really furry." "I can't help it. I'm a mammal." It wasn't what Zach had expected to hear. "And... and so what are smooth guys?" "Reptiles?" Bob was wry. Zach took another swallow. Bob hastened to add, "Or angels. Like you." Another preppy guy walked into the bar. He was on the short side with medium brown hair that was buzzed short. His polo shirt revealed that he was "carrying a few extra pounds," as they say. His arms were smooth and hairless; Zach had to force himself not to think of snakes and lizards. He ordered another round of drinks for himself and Bob. The new preppy paused just inside the door, looked around, and squinted at the booths at the back of the bar. When he came to the last one, Moroni's booth, he squinted 135


even harder, then made straight for it. Diva worshiper. In a moment he and Moroni were talking and laughing like old friends. Zach took another long drink. "You want to get out of here and go somewhere?" It was Zach's turn to be a smartass. "Sure. I know a place where they sell vanilla ice cream." Bob laughed. "A vanilla bitch. Come on, let's get out of here." Zach's apartment was just a short subway ride away. Bob lived farther uptown, so they settled on Zach's place. By the time the train pulled out of the Fourteenth Street station, Zach was beginning to sober up, at least enough to have regrets that he'd gotten himself into this. Still again his resolve to "save himself for Mr. Right" had fallen by the wayside. But he was still drunk enough not to back out. Sex is sex. Bob, on the other hand, seemed perfectly cool. "So, what are you into?" "I thought you knew. I like to make it with vanilla wafers." "Stop it. I'm serious." After a brief pause he added, "I'm strictly a sub." "A sandwich?" "Submissive, bitch. I love to be dominated by guys like you." Zach was deadpan. "Vanilla guys." "I like to suck cock. I'm not really into fucking. And... do you like to spank?" "It's been known to happen." "I love to get spanked." 136


So despite his second thoughts, Zach went right ahead. A blowjob is a blowjob, after all. He remembered what was in his backpack. "Do you mind if I put on a DVD while you're doing me?" "Not at all, sir. I love porn." "This isn't exactly porn. More in the line of beefcake." When they got back to the apartment, Bob stripped without a word. Well, almost stripped—he was wearing one of those leather harness rigs. Zach thought it looked like something you'd put on a horse. But what the hell. He slipped the Tarzan disc into the player. Bob bent over. "I'm a bad boy, sir. Punish me." Zach dutifully started spanking him. It was all he could do not to laugh. But Bob really got into it, moaning with pleasure. Zach kept his eyes squarely on the TV screen, where Matt Maddox was displaying his body quite nicely, Thank you. Zach was getting erect, more from the movie than from smacking Bob's bare ass. After a few minutes of this, Bob piped up with, "Now order me to suck your cock." A good, giving sex partner, Zach ordered him. Bob got down on his knees, Zach leaned back on the sofa, and the sucking began. Matt Maddox was swinging through the trees. His loincloth was flapping in the breeze. Zach kept hitting the pause/slow motion buttons on the remote, and Bob was too busy to notice. Zach got increasingly harder. Every time there was a scene without Maddox, he'd fast forward. When Matt 137


appeared again, he'd go back to regular speed. When the loincloth flapped, presto! Slow motion! Zach was getting closer and closer to coming. In his mind the movie was not Tarzan and the Peril from Neptune but Tarzan and the Swiss Guards and Zach. Finally he erupted with pleasure, and Bob greedily swallowed every drop of his jizz. Zach closed his eyes and savored his vicarious moment with Matt. Without intending to, he nodded off. When he awoke a few moments later, Bob was gone. The DVD tray was open, and the disc was gone. There was a brief handwritten note: If this movie could do that for you, it's something I have to have. Bob. Oh well, what the hell. Just my luck to run into another movie fan, he thought. He could always pick up another one. He did a quick check to make sure Bob hadn't taken anything else. But everything seemed to be in its proper place. In the meantime he could look forward to Toledo and the real thing: Sinbad and the Strawberry Blond Reporter. Zach's "interview" with Lisa Moroni, suitably altered to read like a third-party account and not something recorded (illegally) by a reporter, ran on The Back Fence's front page. It was a hit. The issue sold briskly; in parts of the country it sold out the day it hit the stands. He was quickly given other high profile assignments. A famous Broadway actor, starring in a stage version of The Munsters, had shown up at the theater one night falling-down drunk, insisted he would go on, and passed out onstage in the middle of the first act. A right-wing US senator, famous for 138


his bigotry, had been caught in a hotel room having man-ondog sex with a dachshund. And lots more, too. The parade of celebrities and politicians making asses of themselves never ends. Whether it was his good looks and natural charm, or whether it was genuine journalistic ability, Zach showed a real talent for getting witnesses to these events to tell what they'd seen. Actors, stage mangers, hotel employees, even police officers opened up and dished out the dirt for him. In no time he was The Back Fence's rising star reporter. Harvey dropped any suggestion that he should take someone with him to Toledo. Zach was a made journalist, even if it was only tabloid journalism. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Fifteen On the Waterfront Toledo. The weather was gray and stormy. Occasional gusts of strong wind blew up, then subsided quickly. The waters of Lake Erie were turbulent; waves higher than anyone could remember struck the shore. At the edge of the lake stood a man in a long black overcoat with the collar pulled up against the rain and a fedora pulled down so it almost covered his eyes. Under his hat, thick black shoulder-length hair showed, and he sported a thick black mustache. He wore pop-bottle thick hornrimmed eyeglasses, and he had bushy black eyebrows. If he hadn't been so badly overdone, he might have seemed mysterious or even menacing. Out on the lake two mock-up medieval ships were riding the violent waters. They had been made for the Sinbad movie, of course. The man in black watched them and wondered if Matt Maddox was aboard one of them. Would the company be foolish enough to risk their star in this kind of weather? Slowly he held a small pair of binoculars to his eyes. They were almost tiny, not much more than opera glasses. As he watched and wondered, another gust of wind blew his hat off and sent it rolling along the dock. It stopped against a crate, and he scrambled to pick it up. As he bent down to get it, 140


another gust blew his hair off. It was a wig, and underneath it his own hair was strawberry blond. It was Zach. Harvey had insisted he wear this disguise on his assignment to stalk Matt Maddox. "The guy has a shark of a publicist, provided by his lawyers. A bitch who calls herself Debbie Froman. Her real name's Ferkosarianescu, but never mind that. She's been working to keep our people away from Maddox for years. If she knows you're with The Back Fence, if she recognizes you at all, she'll have you arrested or roughed up or something. Or worse." "You're kidding, Harvey." He chomped his unlit cigar. "You're still new at this business. You haven't run into a really ferocious publicist yet. You haven't learned what vicious jackals they can be. They use 'private security,' the kind of thugs they used to call 'muscle' in old gangster movies." So reluctantly Zach went to the costume shop Harvey recommended and had himself outfitted with a disguise. Now, in the wild wind on the lakefront, it was blowing away. He retrieved his hat, but the wig was blowing down the pier, tumbling and rolling as it went. He chased it, feeling like a comedian in a silent movie, and finally caught it. Looking around self-consciously, he readjusted his outfit. There was no one else in sight. Everyone but he had enough sense to stay indoors in this weather. Then at the far end of the pier someone appeared. It was another guy, medium height, dressed in rain gear. He had his hood up, so his face wasn't showing. Zach was glad he'd had 141


time to get himself rearranged before the guy showed up. He snapped his binoculars shut and shoved them in his pocket. He'd look suspicious enough just being there; if this guy was 'private security,' and if he realized Zach was snooping, the jig would really be up. Slowly the guy approached. When he was about twenty feet away he shouted, "Hello." Zach gave a little wave in response. As they guy got nearer, Zach saw a security ID on his raincoat. Then when he was right next to Zach, he demanded, "What are you doing here?" There was something familiar about the voice, but Zach couldn't quite place it. He took a good look at the guy's face, and recognition was instant. It was Toby Marriner, his "friend" from school. Zach played dumb. "Just looking at the lake. It's beautiful, isn't it? I mean, even in weather like this." "You're trespassing." "How can I be? The waterfront's a public place." "This entire area is under permit to a film crew." There was another burst of wind. Zach reached up to secure his hat, but not quite fast enough. The wind lifted his wig, and he snatched it. Marriner's face registered astonishment. "What the fuck is this?" Then with a start he recognized Zach. "Regan? Is that really you?" Shamefaced, Zach admitted it. "Well, what the fuck are you doing here? I heard you left town. And what's with the disguise? You look like Groucho Marx's hippie son." 142


"I know it." He laughed. "It was my editor's idea." Marriner narrowed his eyes. "Editor?" Trapped, Zach had no choice but to admit the truth. "I'm a reporter now. And this is a big story. I mean, an A-list movie being shot in Toledo." He went on to spill details, being careful to leave out the fact that he wrote for a gossip tabloid. "What are you doing working security? I thought you'd be a pro player by now." "It's not as easy as you think. This is just temporary." He seemed to realize Zach was trying to change the subject. "I'm under strict orders not to let reporters anywhere near here." "Can't you make an exception for an old friend?" Toby was torn. He looked at his watch. "Listen, I get off duty in a few minutes. Why don't we go somewhere, have dinner and catch up on each other?" Zach glanced out at the lake again. He couldn't see anyone on either of the boats, and there was no sign of a film crew shooting them. What the hell? Toby owed him dinner at the very least. "Sure." "Great. Meet me over by that gate," he pointed, "in about ten minutes, okay?" "You got it." Zach was grateful he hadn't had to lie about whom he wrote for. The press ban seemed to be general, not just for tabloids. He looked again at the ships, and there was still no action. Wondering why they weren't safely moored, he ambled toward the meeting place and waited.

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Toby took him to a little Greek restaurant not far from Toledo State's campus. "I've always liked this place. The spanakopita is fantastic." "Sounds good." Over their meal they made smalltalk—gossip about mutual friends who had latched onto good careers, things like that. Finally, Toby broached the subject they'd been avoiding. "I—I wasn't sure you'd want to see me at all, Zach. I mean, after what—" "Don't give it a thought. You're not the one who was at fault." "I mean, I knew you were seeing each other, but I had no idea things had gone so far between you." "Please don't give it another thought." "I want to make it up to you. Any way I can." It was the opening Zach had been waiting for. He got Toby to promise not to notice him when he was prowling around the wharf and the other sets, and to cover for him if other guards caught him. "I really appreciate it, Toby. My editor really wants a story about this movie shoot." "Well, most of the big people—the director, stars, and like that—won't be here for another two days. They're staying at the DeVilbiss Plaza. Most of the crew is at smaller, you know, less expensive hotels." The DeVilbiss Plaza: the oldest, most expensive, most elaborately ornate hotel in the city. Zach knew it well. And Maddox would be there. After their meal, Toby made it clear that he was hoping for something physical to happen between them. Zach 144


remembered what he looked like naked and aroused, and it was a nice memory. But he had bigger fish to fry. Besides, Zach had developed into enough of a conniving reporter to realize this could be useful. And if he was using Toby, well, after what Toby had done to him... "Not tonight, Toby. Sometime soon, though, okay?" He pecked Toby on the cheek and left quickly. He had no intention of sleeping with him, not while there was a much more succulent catch to be landed. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Sixteen Grand Hotel The DeVilbiss Plaza Hotel was more than a century old, one of the few "belle epoque" buildings still standing and in use in downtown Toledo. Two evenings after his encounter with Toby, Zach sat watchfully in the lobby, minus his "hippie Groucho" disguise. There were plenty of places where he could wait unobtrusively. The lobby was huge, and it was filled with grand old furniture, overstuffed chairs and sofas upholstered in brocade, tables, and writing desks in elaborately carved mahogany. Marvelous Tiffany lamps in bright floral patterns shone brilliantly. Chandeliers of brass and crystal hung low from the ceiling. The carpet was three inches thick, and it covered the entire lobby except the area around the desk, where the floor was bare terrazzo. The lobby was as hushed and silent as a cathedral. Every sight, every sound, every last sensation spoke opulence. Zach had originally been staying at another, less expensive hotel. But he checked with Harvey back at the office, and once he had approval, he moved into the DeVilbiss. It would be so much easier to spy on Maddox if he was staying at the same hotel. And it would give him a plausible excuse for being there if any house detectives decided he seemed suspicious, hanging around the lobby. He was glad he had decided to do without his costume. Harvey had ordered him 146


to wear it, but it would have stuck out like a broken leg in a place like this. For the moment he was concentrating on doing his job. Ultimately, in the back of his mind, he had hopes of establishing something permanent with Maddox, but first things first. There was every possibility he wouldn't even get to meet the guy, so fantasies were a waste of time and emotional energy. But still... Matt Maddox! When he did let himself dwell on the fantasy, the possibilities seemed endless. He already knew, from their encounter in Rome, that he was Matt's type, and... No, Zach, he had to caution himself, stay calm, stay in touch with reality. Matt Maddox and reality had never occupied the same space in his mind, but he had to make the effort. Zach found a huge chair close to the check-in desk, unfolded a newspaper and pretended to read it, and settled in for what he expected to be a long wait. A few minutes later a large, butch woman with broad shoulders and short hair strode up to the counter. She was followed by a cabbie carrying four enormous suitcases. The desk clerk, a guy not much older than Zach, put on a professional smile for her. "Yes?" "I'm Ms. Froman. You should have a reservation in my name." He checked. "Yes, ma'am." He did some quick work on his computer. "You'll be in suite 816-18. Right next to Mr. Maddox." "Has Mr. Maddox checked in yet?" 147


He checked, then nodded. "He got here late this afternoon." "Fine. Have some ice water sent up to my suite, will you? And send a valet to brush my clothes." "Of course, ma'am. Anything else?" "The furniture in my suite isn't suitable. Have it changed." The clerk was baffled. "But—you haven't seen it yet." She glared at him. "It won't do. Send up the best you have." "Yes, ma'am. And what else?" "Nothing for now. I'll call when I need something more." "Yes, ma'am." He rang for a bellboy to take her bags. She thanked her cab driver and sent him on his way, tipping him with loose change from her purse and not even a bill. So far, she seemed to be living up to her reputation. So Maddox would be in room 814 or 820. Zach made a mental note of it. Investigative reporting was so easy sometimes, he felt almost ashamed to be doing it. He decided to wait in the lobby a while longer to see what else he could pick up. A few minutes later Matt Maddox and Deb Froman stepped out of the elevator and headed quickly for the hotel restaurant. Maddox was wearing linen pants, a bright blue polo shirt with the collar turned up, Italian loafers with no socks, and dark glasses. He looked like a caricature of a movie star. They walked so rapidly Zach didn't have time to get a really good look at them. Yes, this was Matt, but that's all he could be sure of. They'd be having dinner, and it would take 148


them at least half an hour, probably longer. Matt wondered if Froman was acting as Matt's beard as well as his publicist. But he dismissed the idea; the most gullible fans on the planet could never believe they were a couple. He followed them to the restaurant and peeked in the entrance, not intending to eat himself but just to see what they were doing. And yes, there they were—acting like a loving couple for everyone to see: holding hands across the table and making goo-goo eyes at each other. If he hadn't known better Zach would have thought they were a couple of newlyweds— improbable newlyweds who were headed for a quick divorce. As he watched, a waiter came with a small candelabra, put it on their table, and lit the candles. Aww, a romantic dinner, he thought. For two people playing charades. Rather than waste any more time watching their show of fake affection, he decided to head up to the eighth floor to see what he could learn. The elevator operator—yes, it was an old-fashioned hotel— eyed him suspiciously when he asked for eight. That was pretty clearly an "exclusive" floor, reserved for only the best guests, and Zach didn't look the type. Zach decided to put up a brave front. "Which is Mr. Maddox's suite?" He scratched his head and made a show of trying to remember. "Is it 814, or— " "810-814, yes sir." He still looked suspicious. The elevator doors closed behind him, and Zach found himself alone in the hall. Right in front of him was 810-814. Matt's room. He was one door away from the Promised Land. 149


Come to your senses, Zach.You're here for a reason. He tried the doorknob but of course it was locked. There was nothing else he could do there, and who knew how long Maddox would be at dinner, or where he'd go after it was finished. Zach decided to pack it in for the evening. This was only the first brush with Maddox. Someday soon the right opportunity would present itself. For work, Zach, for work. You're here for work. But his curiosity got the better of him. In the lobby again, he decided to wait and see what might happen. He took a different chair, one that faced the restaurant, and he waited. After a while the faux-loving couple came out. They exchanged a few words, and she headed toward the elevators. Maddox looked at his watch, adjusted his dark glasses and strode quickly out the main entrance. There was no way of telling when he'd be back—if at all; he might be planning to spend the night at the local bathhouse. Zach glanced at his own watch. 7:15. He got out his voice recorder to record some notes about the evening's events while they were still fresh in his mind. People came and went in the lobby. Among others, he spotted Toby Marriner among a group of, he assumed, other security people, heading for the restaurant. It took him fifteen minutes to get his thoughts organized and get everything safely recorded. Then, feeling hungry, he decided to head to a place he knew not far from the hotel. The doorman held the door for him, and Zach got a little kick out of it. He wasn't used to this kind of opulence. 150


It was just twilight. The sky was darkening, and a huge quarter moon shone brightly overhead. Just as he hit the sidewalk, streetlights began to blink on. Zach wasn't sure how he was feeling. The evening had been...well, not unproductive but inconclusive. He had seen Maddox, had learned his room number. That was a beginning. But he'd need a lot more to write a good story, and he'd need even more than that if, as he hoped, he was going to seduce Maddox. Seduction...work...Toby Marriner...there was too much to think about. He needed to find a way to get an interview with Matt, if he could. One way or the other, he needed news. And then another face from the past appeared in front of him. He turned a corner, heading for a pizza joint he knew, and coming down the street in his direction was a couple of men. He spotted them when they were still a block away. Matt Maddox's blue polo shirt and white slacks stood out clearly. It was a bit too dark to make out the other guy. But they were clearly together. Even at that distance, they looked more like a couple than Matt and Deb Froman ever could. Zach ducked into a doorway and waited till they passed. They were locked in conversation and seemed oblivious to everything but each other. Neither noticed him as they went by. With a start Zach recognized Matt's companion: It was his old pal "Andy," the married guy from the Gaiety. What were his real initials, again? Surprisingly, they came back to Zach: J.G.F. He was still up to his old shenanigans, it seemed, and Matt was clearly still up to his usual loose ways. Realizing that 151


this could be an interesting development, he decided to follow them back to the DeVilbiss. He held back as the doorman held the door for them, and Matt exchanged a few words with him. Was he another sex partner, then? Or a potential one? Who knew? They went inside, and the doorman spotted Zach coming up the street and held the door for him too. "Back so soon, sir?" "I just ran out for a quick bite." "Have a good evening, sir." "I will." He kept moving and reached the center of the lobby just in time to see Matt and "Andy" step into an elevator and the doors close behind them. Hmm...what to do, what to do? Several things came to mind. He could go up to eight and interrupt them in mid-fuck. He could just ignore it and wait till tomorrow to stalk his prey again. But he decided to wait in the lobby for a while and see what, if anything, developed. There was a different desk clerk on duty now, a plump, older woman with graying hair and too much eye makeup. From her manner, Zach could see that she thought she was important. When new patrons arrived she smiled a tight, professional smile at them and then looked down her nose at them. He settled in and watched the other residents come and go in the lobby. After a time he began to think he was wasting his time, waiting like this. A woman entered the lobby. Early middle age, gray pants suit. She was plump almost to the point of caricature, and her manner was nervous and distracted. She kept looking around 152


as if she expected someone or something to pounce on her. She also kept pulling Kleenex out of her purse, sniffling into them, then crumpling them up and shoving them into her pocket. After scanning the lobby four or five times, she took up a station near the check-in desk, at the far end from where the clerk was stationed, and loitered on the terrazzo there. She was the first person to catch Zach's attention, and he decided to amble up close to her, to try and see what her problem was. As unobtrusively as he could, he sidled across the lobby and stood a few feet away from her. She was so nervous or so distracted she didn't seem to notice him. At close range he could see that she was wearing no jewelry but a large wedding ring. On her oversized purse were the initials "M.W.F." M.W.F., M.W.F. He tried to remember "Andy's" monogram for certain. Had it been J.G.F.? Could she be—? Zach was more and more intrigued. She fidgeted with something in her purse, and looked around nervously still again. Something was definitely not right with her. Zach scanned the lobby to see if he might spot Toby or one of the security people he had seen with him earlier. There was no sign of them. The woman's posture changed. She stood bolt upright, apparently filled with resolve for...for whatever was on her mind. She walked purposefully to the far end of the counter, to the clerk. "Where is he?" she demanded loudly. Ms. Clerk looked down her nose and said, "Where is who, madam?" 153


"That movie star. That Matt Maddox." "I'm afraid I can't give out infor—" "I know he's here. It was in the paper." "I'm sorry, madam, but I can tell you nothing." "But I—" The clerk turned haughtily on her heels and quickly disappeared into the hotel office. M.W.F. was left standing there with no one to talk to. After a moment she began to sniffle again, and Zach even saw a few tears roll down her cheeks. She began to rummage through her large purse, he assumed for a hankie. She pulled out a patterned silk scarf. Something was wrapped in it, and just as it emerged from her purse the object fell out and landed on her toe. She let out a brief cry, kicked off her shoe, and began to rub her foot. Meanwhile the object that had fallen clattered across the floor and stopped a few feet from her. Zach realized with a start that it was a gun, a revolver. The woman became aware that he was watching her, and she put on a sheepish grin and bent down to pick it up. "It's a lighter," she muttered. "It's a trick cigarette lighter." He didn't believe it for a second. The woman put her shoe back on and leaned against the counter nonchalantly. What could she be up to? Zach stepped behind a convenient potted palm and continued to watch her. Thinking she was alone, thinking no one was watching her, M.W.F. limped behind the desk and began playing with the computer there, obviously searching for something. 154


Zach looked around for security, but there was no one in sight. The woman had asked for Matt Maddox. If she could find his room number... He'd have to handle this himself. He had pursued Maddox far too long, if only in his dreams, to let this cartoon woman with a gun kill him now. Zach rushed to the closest elevator and told the operator to take him to the eighth floor. Old hotel, old elevators—it seemed to take forever to get there. Zach cursed the mentality that had booked Maddox into this ancient place instead of a good, solid Hilton. Zach waited for the elevator doors to close behind him, then started pounding on Matt's door. "Open up! Matt Maddox, I know you're there. Open up!" He knocked repeatedly and even kicked the door once, but no one answered. A maid came down the hall toward him, pushing a cartful of linens. When she saw what Zach was up to a look of alarm crossed her face. "What are you doing? That's Mr. Maddox's suite." Zach lunged at her and grabbed at the passkey that was hanging at her waist. In an instant he had the door open. Matt and "Andy" were standing at the foot of the bed, buck naked and both with screaming erections, locked in a kiss. He sprang across the room to them and pulled them apart. He barked at Andy, "Get under the bed, quick!" "What the—?" "Your wife's here. She's got a gun. Get under the goddamn bed!" 155


The maid was still in the hall, clearly agitated. "I'll call security, Mr. Maddox!" Maddox yelled to her, "Do it—quick!" The door was on springs and it slammed shut, cutting off whatever she was about to say. Puzzled, maybe even dazed, Andy did as he was told. He moved quickly and squirmed his way under the bed. Zach looked at Matt, who looked confused by everything that was happening. He threw himself into Matt's arms and began kissing him. Matt struggled for a moment, then kissed him back. And just at that instant a shot rang out, blasting the lock off the door. M.W.F. walked into the room, her gun pointed squarely at the embracing couple. "All right, Joe, I've caught you at last!" Zach turned and looked at her. As casually as he could manage, he asked, "Who the hell are you? And who the hell is Joe?" M.W.F. gaped. She seemed stunned at the sight of them. Her gun arm dropped to her side, and she let the revolver fall to the floor. "Where's my husband?" Matt was quick enough on the uptake, and a good enough actor, to realize at once what was going on. Pretending to be completely bewildered, he asked her, "What husband would that be?" "Oh." She was flabbergasted. Her loving husband wasn't there after all. She looked stupidly around the room as if to confirm it. "Oh." Trying valiantly to recover her dignity, she said, "Oh, I'm sorry, gentlemen. Please excuse this intrusion." 156


They both stared at her, astonished at her lunatic coolness. Without another word, acting as if nothing out-of-the-way had happened, she turned and left the room, leaving her gun on the floor. Matt looked at Zach. "What the hell was that?" "Hell is right." Zach stepped back and away from him. "It hath no fury like a woman scorned, you know." Matt's eyes narrowed. "I've seen you somewhere before." He was trying to remember. "Who are you?" "No one. Not a soul." Andy/Joe was still under the bed. Zach walked to the bedside and nudged him with his toe. "You can come out now. She's gone." Not moving, he said, "She still has that gun." "No, it's out here. Get out of there and get dressed. If you move your ass, you can get home before she does. That'll really do a job on her." He peeked out. "I've seen you somewhere, too." "Never mind that. Get your clothes on and get out of here. Security will be up here any second now, maybe with the police." "The—!" It was apparently a new thought for him. He pulled himself out from under the bed, dressed in a flash and ran out the door, not even bothering to say goodbye to the man he was going to have sex with. Zach called after him, "Have a safe ride home, now, you hear?" 157


Matt was still staring at him, still trying to jog his memory. He pulled on a robe. "I know we've met before. Tell me." "I'm your guardian angel. Can't you tell?" At that moment three armed security men burst into the room, pistols drawn and ready. They surrounded Zach and pointed their guns at him, and he raised his hands. To Matt he said, "I think this is your cue, Mr. Maddox. Explain it to them." "Gentlemen, please!" Matt Turned into Bash Corrigan, complete with a commanding voice. "This man isn't the intruder. This man saved my life." The rent-a-cops hesitated. One of them, the leader, asked, "You're sure?" "Quite sure, gentlemen. All the trouble is over with." He glanced at the door. "Could you please send someone up here to replace that?" "Of course, sir." "And I know I can trust your discretion about this weird incident. The woman who broke in here was—was—" Zach piped up. "She was a crazed fan of Mr. Maddox's. That's her gun." He gestured. "Please take it with you." They were plainly puzzled. One of them bent down and got the gun. Debbie Froman appeared at the door, quite excited. "Matt! What happened here?" "I'll tell you about it in the morning. Everything's under control now." "But—" "In the morning, Deb. Okay?" 158


It was easy to see she was as baffled as everyone else. Looking at Zach, she asked, "And who's this?" "He saved my life." "What—" "Tomorrow, Deb." Matt assumed his command voice again. Obviously unhappy, she left. The security guys followed her. One of them paused just outside the door and examined the shattered lock. "We'll have this taken care of right away, Mr. Maddox." "Good. Thank you." Zach found himself alone with Matt Maddox. Matt was naked as the proverbial jaybird under his robe, and he still had a bit of an erection despite (or because of?) all the excitement; it showed through the robe. Zach's dream had come true, and he realized that he had been the one in charge from the first moment of this weird affair. He couldn't lose that. That fact was even more of a dream come true. He put on an affable smile. "Well, I guess I'll just be going now." "No, wait!" Matt reached for his pants and slipped them on. "I want to talk to you." "The way you were 'talking' to your, er, gentleman caller?" "Yes. No! I mean—" He pulled his shirt on. "You saved my life, for Christ's sake. I'd at least like to know who you are." He decided to be bold. He might never have this kind of advantage again. "I'm Zach Regan. I'm a journalist." "A reporter? Who for?"

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He ignored the question. "I've been assigned to cover your movie shoot. But I've learned that reporters are barred. So I'll be going back to New York." "No, don't. I owe you. I'll have my people clear you. You'll have unlimited access." Again his eyes narrowed. "I wish I could remember where I've seen you before." Suddenly a thought hit him. "You can't print anything about what happened here tonight. My lawyers—" "Relax. Your secret's safe with me." He wasn't sure to go on, but he decided to take the plunge. "If you treat me right." Again Matt looked him up and down. It was driving him crazy. "Have you ever been in Hollywood?" "Never. Can I get an interview with you, too? Exclusive?" "Sure. Guatemala, then! You were there when we shot Peril from Neptune. I remember, there was a guy who—" "Wrong again. Look, those workmen will be here any time now. I should be going." Still again Matt checked him out. But this time it was with a bit of obvious romantic interest. "Wait—let's go downstairs and have a drink." "I don't drink." Matt was stunned. "Don't drink! What kind of gay man doesn't drink?" Zach pointed at himself. "This kind, I guess." He was enjoying this. Playing hard to get seemed to be working. Who'd have expected that? "How did you know I'm gay?" Matt sat down on the bed and stretched out. "What kind of straight man would ask another man to 'treat me right'? 160


Besides, when you kissed me, you enjoyed it. That was unmistakable." "Touche. But I really have to get going." He moved toward the door—slowly, to give Matt plenty of time to react. "Wait. Let's go out for a burger, then. Or have you had dinner?" "After all this excitement, I couldn't eat a thing." "But—" He took another step toward the door. "You'll have me cleared for the set by morning?" Matt wanted him to stay. It was clearer and clearer. "Please don't go. I want to—I want to get to know you." "Well..." "Please." "To be honest with you," he said dishonestly, "I have a date." "A date?" He sat up. "With who?" "Oh, just a guy." He hesitated as if he was unsure he should say more. "He's pretty hot, to tell you the truth." Matt caught him by the wrist. "Look, I'll be honest with you. That other guy got me really horny. I—I need someone to be with me tonight." Zach stared at him without saying a word. "Please. You're damn cute. Just the type that really excites me." "Me? I'm not a thing like that guy who was here." "He was Mr. Right Now. You're Mr. Right." Zach made a show of checking the time. "I don't know. This guy I'm meeting is so damn hot, I can't—" 161


"I'm not used to begging. Guys like me never have to. But please stay." Looking down at him, Zach could see the hair on his chest. Each little strand of it seemed to be beckoning him. And the rest, he had seen Matt's body when he came in, and it was even more beautiful than he'd remembered. This was the moment he had been dreaming of all his life. He had to play it just right. He could stay and become one more notch on the Maddox bedpost. Or...he could bait the trap and hope his quarry went for it. If it didn't work, he'd have regrets for the rest of his life. After Matt Maddox there could be no other man for him. But if it worked... Slowly, deliberately, he said, "I really can't disappoint Kyle. We've been trying to get together for months." Matt jumped to his feet and blocked the door. "I've got to see you again. Tomorrow. They're shooting around me. I'll be here. We can have lunch, then I'll give you that exclusive interview." "Well..." "Please." He had stretched things to the breaking point; he couldn't let them snap. "Well, okay, then. Tomorrow at noon." "Great. Fantastic." Matt leaned forward to kiss him. Zach backed away. Teasing, he decided, was fun. And it could get results. Just at that moment two workmen appeared carrying a new door and a big toolbox. Matt pulled back. Adopting his best professional voice, he said, "We'll have a business lunch tomorrow, then." 162


Zach smiled. "It's a date." He pushed past the workmen, who seemed oblivious to him and Matt, and headed for the elevator. That night, all he could think of was Matt. His Matt. Matt belonged to him. He had to. He tried drafting the beginning of a news story, but his fantasies kept interrupting. Matt. His Matt. Later, in bed, trying to get to sleep, he found it impossible. Every time the closed his eyes he saw Matt Maddox. Matt in his loincloth. Matt in his Speedo. Matt between those two Swiss Guards, one of them fucking Matt and the other being fucked by him. Matt naked, aroused, and kissing Andy. His mind ran riot imagining everything they'd have done together if the lunatic wife hadn't shown up when she did. Zach's cock was throbbing. Should he yield to the temptation or save it? Abruptly he sat up in bed. He knew what he wanted, and he knew what he had to do to get it. The tease had to go on. He could not give in to Matt, not yet. So he jerked off in bed. Three times. Four times. Five. Finally, completely spent, he fell asleep and, inevitably, dreamed of Matt. They were married. Newlyweds. They honeymooned around the world. They returned to their own ivy-covered cottage. They made love every hour. It had to happen. It had to. [Back to Table of Contents] 163


Chapter Seventeen True Lies Yes, teasing was fun. But it didn't come naturally or easily for Zach. The temptation was so strong for him to just throw himself into Matt's arms and let the lovemaking begin. But that was the sticking point for him—he wanted it to be real, honest lovemaking, not just fucking for fucking's sake. He'd feel even more ridiculous than if he dressed in a Swiss Guard's uniform. He wanted whatever developed between him and Matt to last, and that meant making Matt want it to last, too. The morning newscasts reported the previous night's incident, but only in a sketchy way. A crazed fan had broken into Matt's suite at the DeVilbiss, waving a gun. Mrs. Andy had been arrested a block from the hotel, walking down the street, gesturing angrily and having a heated conversation with her purse. She had been held for psychological evaluation. Thankfully, she had had sense enough, or shame enough, not to tell anyone why she had done what she did, so Matt's closet door was still sealed safely. Unsealing it was Zach's job, and he knew it was the most important one he'd ever undertake. He had left a wake-up call for ten the next morning but he woke up an hour before that, he showered, shaved, and dressed in what he had always been told were his hottest clothes—a pair of skin-tight jeans, a striped jersey and a pair 164


of shiny-white, brand new sneakers. He put an extra dollop of mousse in his hair and combed and re-combed it six times till he got it just the way he wanted it. Then, full of energy, with time to kill, he went out for a walk. The waterfront was almost deserted. It was a bright sunny day, with a warm breeze. The two Sinbad ships were moored, and they rocked gently in the waves. Zach smiled at everyone he passed. Something told him it was going to be a good day. At one o'clock he was back at the DeVilbiss. He stopped in the men's room to check his appearance one more time, then headed up to the eighth floor. Just as he stepped off the elevator, he saw Deb Froman coming out of her room and apparently heading for Matt's. She had the air of every frenzied publicist everywhere. When she saw Zach, she recognized him from the previous night and stopped in her tracks. "What are you doing here?" Not even her forbidding manner could dampen his spirits. "I have a date to interview Matt." "All interview requests have to come through me." "Not this one. Matt made the date personally." "Wait here." She knocked loudly on Matt's door. "Matt, it's Deb. Open up." A moment later the door opened. Matt seemed to have just stepped out of the shower. He was dripping wet, wearing nothing but a towel. The just-enough hair on his chest was matted with moisture, and it looked sexier than it ever had. Was this the way he wanted to greet Zach? Zach felt a 165


twitching in his crotch. Five times last night, and it still wanted action. Matt was clearly surprised to see her. "Deb!" She glanced at Zach, then turned to Matt. "I need to talk to you." She pushed past him into the room. Matt smiled an embarrassed smile at Zach and said, "Sorry. This won't take long." He closed the door, or Froman did, with a loud bang. Zach heard raised voices in the room. Froman, in particular, was screaming. Then the door opened again, and Matt showed her out. Putting up a brave front, he told her, "Thanks for your concern, but everything is under control, Deb." "It had better be. If you do anything to—" "I won't. Now leave us alone. This young man did me an invaluable service last night. Even you should understand that. I owe him, and I'm going to repay him." He grinned, not at her but at Zach. Froman rounded on Zach. "No questions about sexuality. Got that? None!" "Um, yeah, sure." She stomped down the hall to her own room and slammed the door behind her. Zach turned to Matt. "Noisy, isn't she?" Matt chuckled. "It's her job." "It's her job to insult journalists? Really?" "Yeah, pretty much. Come on in." His towel started to slip, but he caught it before it dropped completely off. Zach had the impression the move had been carefully rehearsed. 166


So, it was his job to seduce a guy who was trying to seduce him, albeit for different ends. Did that make it easier to do what he wanted to do, or a lot harder? The answer, at least for Zach: a lot easier. He thought of that old saying that the easiest man to con is a con man. The same had to be true of a seducer, didn't it? In the suite, Matt gestured to a chair, and Zach made himself comfortable. Matt put on a huge smile. "I'm so glad to see you again. I couldn't be happier you came." Before Zach could answer, Matt let his towel slip all the way off. It took every ounce of Zach's self-control not to let his eyes bulge out of his head. He played dumb. "Of course I came. You promised me lunch. On a journalist's salary, I can't pass up a free meal." Matt gaped at him. He stroked his chest idly, but Zach could tell it was a deliberate gesture. "Is that the only reason you're here?" He rummaged in a drawer and found a pair of white bikini briefs. Zach shrugged. "It's my job, remember?" This wasn't going the way Matt wanted, and it showed in his face. He tried another tack. "How did your date go?" "Fantastic." Zach's face lit up. Yes, Matt was taking the bait. "He's the sweetest guy. A psychology professor. I was in one of his classes in school." "But you—" He continued dressing. "I mean, a guy as cute as you—you must have been around the block a few times. Guys must throw themselves at you all the time. What can a professor—" he said the word with obvious distaste—"mean to you?" 167


Zach kept his manner breezy. "I guess I'm not sure yet. He's an attractive guy, and I like him a lot. But—" "But?" "But I'm not sure he's Mr. Right. I'm ready to settle down, and I'm not sure he is." Matt was finished dressing. He slipped on his loafers. "And how's the sex?" "It's okay, I guess. Strictly vanilla, but—" "Is 'okay' good enough? A guy like you has to be a lot more experienced than—" "I'm not sure sex is the most important thing. There's love." Matt kept his face carefully neutral, so Zach went on. "I've played around a lot, I guess. All over the world. There was a German ski instructor who... Never mind." Matt was burning with curiosity, and it showed. Zach was feeling better and better about the way things were going. "A German? So he was into kink?" "A bit. He—but no. I'm here to interview you, remember? We seem to be talking about nothing but me." "Yeah. I want to know about you." "Well, I'm getting paid to learn more about you. And I'm hungry. Can we please go to lunch?" Matt moved to a spot right in front of him. "Only if you promise to tell me about the German ski instructor. I want to hear everything." "Well, okay." Zach laughed. "But you're turning the tables on me. I'm supposed to be interviewing you, remember?" Instead of answering, Matt leaned down and kissed him. It was a deep passionate kiss, and Zach didn't resist—at first. 168


After savoring it for a moment, he pulled away. "My professor boyfriend, remember?" "I think I may hate your professor boyfriend. Let's go and eat." It was still a bit early for the lunch crowd, and the restaurant was nearly empty. The captain greeted the movie star and his companion effusively, and Matt asked for a table that was as secluded as possible. "Yes, sir. Gladly, sir." After they were seated, "Will there be anything else I can do for you, sir?" "Not for now, thanks. Just the menus." Matt smiled his killer smile at the man. He had clearly made another conquest. Zach got out his voice recorder, switched it on and placed it on the edge of the table. Matt immediately reached over and switched it off. "None of that. This is our private lunch together." "You promised me an interview, remember?" He made to turn it on again. But Matt caught his hand. "Later, okay?" They had touched the previous night. They had even kissed. But that had been different. This was the first time Matt had touched him, wanting to touch him, not some closeted pick-up. Zach savored his touch. But of course the moment didn't last. Matt pulled his hand back. Zach, making a show of his unhappiness, put the recorder back in his briefcase. A waiter came to the table. They each scanned the menu quickly and ordered. When they were alone again, Matt 169


resumed his smile. "Now," he said pointedly, "tell me about last night. How did you know what that woman was up to? And how did you know where to find me? And for that matter, where on earth did you find the nerve to face a madwoman with a gun?" "Let's just say I learned how to deal with armed villains from Matt Maddox movies, okay?" "I'm serious, Zach. No one's ever saved my life before. No one's ever had to. I want to know everything that happened." "I saw her in the lobby. She was fumbling with that gun of hers, taking it out of her purse and putting it back." Zach told the story more or less as it had happened, but carefully edited to leave out a few details—like his crush on Matt. "I tried to find security, but there was no one around. I had to do something, so..." He spread his hands as if to say and you know the rest. "But why—I mean, the risk—" Zach played coy. "You're my assignment, remember? My first really big one. I couldn't let that go up in smoke." Disappointment showed in Matt's face. He had clearly been expecting to hear something more personal. "That's all?" "Isn't that enough?" "I guess so, yeah, But—" The waiter came with their salads. When he was gone again, Matt switched to asking, "Now tell me about your boyfriend. Your professor." With a shrug Zach explained, "He's my boyfriend. I was in one of his classes, and—I'm supposed to be interviewing you, remember?" 170


"That can wait. How serious is it between you and this guy? I mean, aren't you a bit young to settle down?" "How old would I have to be? You've got a decade on me, and you haven't settled down." "I've been married twice." "See what I mean?" But Matt refused to be stopped. "And this German ski instructor?" "A youthful fling. He came right after the twins." "Twins?" Zach nodded. "Belgian. Hot. Think of the mathematical possibilities!" Matt's face flushed slightly. It was working. The hook was working its way in. He dropped his fork. "You're young, Zach. You shouldn't be—" Just at that moment Deb Froman came striding into the restaurant. She ignored the captain and the rest of the staff and made straight for Matt. "You need to end this now. I've been checking up on this guy. He works for The Back Fence. He's the one who did that hatchet job on Lisa Moroni a couple months ago." Matt glared at Zach. "Is that true? Why didn't you tell me?" "You never asked." "But—" "I told you I'm a journalist. And there wasn't one word in that Moroni piece that wasn't true." "But—" 171


Froman took Matt by the shoulder. "You have to end this. What will the studio say?" "It's none of the studio's business." "You are their business, Matt. We've been working like hell to keep The Back Fence from outi—from doing an expose on you for years. Now here you are giving the farm away to this—this—" Zach put on a big, innocent grin. "Expose? What is there to expose?" Matt quickly got between them. "You need to calm down, Deb. This young man saved my life last night, remember?" "She was going to shoot her damn husband, not you." "You don't know that. And even at that—just think of the scandal that would have caused. Zach, here, helped prevent that. And he's already promised not to write about it. We owe him an interview, at least." Smile blazing, he turned back to Zach. "At least." Zach played dumb and pecked at his salad. "So you need to relax, Deb. I have everything under control here. Zach and I understand each other." She was unhappy and it showed. "Well..." "Go on, now. We'll talk later." Sulking, she left, and just at that moment the waiter brought their main courses. Without missing a beat, Matt demanded, "Now I want to know about these twins." "There's not much I can tell you that you can't figure out for yourself. I met them through this airline pilot." "A pilot!" 172


"You know—mile high club and all that. Boy, did he give me wings." " Just how long is your sexual biography?" Zach made his tone as offhand as he could. "I guess I've gotten around." "And—and your professor boyfriend—does he know about all this?" Zach nodded eagerly. "He says it turns him on. Can you imagine? He's especially turned on by the volunteer fire brigade in Antwerp." "A whole fire brigade! But—but—" "This is really good beef. How's the lobster?" Suddenly, quite unexpectedly, Matt reached across the table and took Zach's hand. For an instant, quite instinctively, Zach squeezed back. Matt Maddox was touching him, and his touch was warm—and quite deliberate. This was no anonymous encounter in a back corridor of an old church, this was exactly what Zach had always dreamed of. But would it lead to everything he had dreamed? He could not let his dreams pass in a moment of passion. He pulled his hand back. "Matt, we're in public. People can see." Matt laughed. "I thought you were out of your closet. I thought you didn't care who knows." "It's not my closet that needs protecting, remember? If you keep acting like this in public places, an expose would be redundant." "I have lawyers to take care of that. And Deb. You don't know what a pit bull she can be." 173


"And your publicist doesn't want you to even talk to me, much less hold my hand in a public space, remember?" "I can handle Deb." "Really? She looks like she could beat you in a fair fight." He took a sip of water, "And I doubt if she'd fight fair." "Look, I really like you. I really want you. You're gorgeous." Hearing those words thrilled Zach. But he knew what he wanted. "Thank you. Coming from a man as attractive as you, that's really a great compliment. But can we please finish lunch and get on with our interview?" "Jesus, you're single-minded." Zach grinned at him. "And you're not? I have a boyfriend, remember?" "And a ski instructor, and a pilot, and a fire brigade, and God knows who else." "That's all behind me. I'm ready to settle down." He hoped he didn't over-stress that. It wouldn't do to give the game away now. "Settle down with me, then. I want you. You're special." He paused and lowered his voice to a suggestive whisper. "The bed up in my room is really comfortable." "And I'm more special than that guy from last night?" "That was a low blow, Zach." It was working. Matt had proposed—kind of. Settle down with me, he had said. Of course he didn't mean it, not yet. It was nothing more than a come-on. But by the time Zach was finished, if he handled this right, it would turn from a 174


proposition to a real proposal. "Can we please finish eating and do the interview?" Back in Matt's room, Zach settled into the most comfortable chair. Matt was acting mildly agitated. Pacing, he asked, "Do you mind if I get comfortable?" Zach laughed. "What do you mean by comfortable?" "Never mind." He sulked, then an instant later a bright idea hit him. "We haven't set the ground rules for the interview." "I thought Ms. Froman had done that. 'No questions about sexual orientation,' remember?" "We need more rules than that." He decided not to press his advantage too hard. "Okay. What do you have in mind?" An enormous grin crossed Matt's face. "I want to kiss you again." "Oh, Matt. I thought we—" "That's the bargain. A kiss for an interview. It seems like a fair exchange to me." A thousand violins broke forth on Zach's internal soundtrack. But he knew he had to play it cool. "Well...okay. But just a kiss. No more. Agreed?" "Agreed. At least for now." Matt kicked his shoes off and lay back on the bed, in what he obviously thought was a suggestive pose. "Come over here and lay one on me." Zach walked to the bed, leaned down, and gave him a quick peck. Then he went back to his seat and switched on his recorder. Clearly unhappy, Matt took the chair opposite him. 175


The interview ran a predictable course. Matt had grown up in Iowa, played high school and college sports, got bitten by the acting bug in college, and on and on. Zach had heard it all a thousand times before, but he pretended interest. He had to get something more interesting than this, or Harvey would be furious with him. But that would take care of itself, he thought. In the meantime visions of a young Matt in the locker room, surrounded by other naked college jocks, entertained him. After twenty minutes, Matt looked at his watch. "I think we'll have to call it quits now. I have a meeting with my director and our cinematographer." "You promised me an interview, not a few boilerplate sound bites." "What do you want to hear?" He inched to the edge of the bed and put his shoes back on. "Something new. Anybody who's followed your career already knows all that stuff. I need something that'll really catch people's attention—startle them." "Never mind that. It's time for my payment. My real payment." Matt stood up, strode quickly across the room, bent down, and kissed Zach. It was a warm, deep kiss, and Zach savored it. But of course he couldn't let it show. After relishing it for a moment, he began to giggle—softly and deliberately. "What the hell is so funny?" Matt was pissed, and he didn't try to hide it.

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"I'm kissing Captain Marvel." He laughed again, then pulled away and looked pointedly at his watch. "You're right. It is getting late." The frustration on Matt's face was wonderful to see, but he wasn't ready to give up. "Why don't you stay here till I get back from this meeting? We can go on with this then." "Go on with what? Our interview, or—?" "You know what I want. Tell you what—suppose I arrange for you to have unlimited access to the set? And to me? I'll give you a whole series of interviews for your damn paper, if that's what it takes to keep you here." The words sounded like a Beethoven symphony to Zach's ears. "Well... okay, I guess. But—" "But nothing. I want you, and I'm going to have you. I have to count for more than some Belgian firemen." Zach leered at him. "I don't know. They had really big hoses." "You're a flirtatious bitch of a reporter, Mr. Regan. Don't think I don't know it." He stooped and kissed Zach again. And Zach let him—for a moment. "You have a meeting to get to, remember?" "You are the most frustrating—" "Don't say it. My recorder's still on." Matt's shoulders slumped; he was deflated. "Dinner tonight?" "Thanks, but I have a date with my beau." "Flirtatious, frustrating bitch. There, I said it again. I defy you to print it." Zach laughed. "I wouldn't dare." 177


"Later, then. Don't hang around here too long, okay? If Deb finds you in here, she'll chew you a new one, and I haven't seen the old one yet." He got a jacket out of the closet and, leering back at Zach, left the room. Zach got up to leave, too. But a thought struck him. It wouldn't be a good idea to go through Matt's things—but how could he resist? It would have to be a quick search, since he didn't know when Matt would be back, and there was always Deb to worry about. But it might turn up something interesting. And it did, almost at once. In the nightstand drawer, right next to the bed, Zach found a small stash of porn magazines and videos. A quick glance revealed that virtually all the guys in them were tall, slender blonds and redheads. Like me, he thought. Yep, I'm the type he goes for. Grinning like a naughty schoolboy, he went back to his own room to send an email to Harvey: Making progress. Something big is in the works. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Eighteen An Affair to Remember Weeks passed. Zach did indeed have complete access to the Sinbad shoot and all its personnel. Deb Froman, ever vigilant and suspicious, warned everyone involved with the film not to talk too openly with Zach about Matt, or even about any rumors they might have heard about him. She was puzzled and even more suspicious when they told her the issue had never come up. She was sure Zach must be up to something, but what? And she wasn't the only one wondering that. Harvey Adams called and emailed every day. Zach's expense account was beginning to mount up, and Harvey wanted results, something definite to justify the expense. Zach had told him repeatedly that he was onto a big story, that he was working on a series of articles that would really sell and sell big, but he never sent any details. Harvey's impatience was beginning to show. Watching the movie get made was fascinating for Zach. He had been a film buff all his life, and actually seeing a major film in production, watching all aspects of it from production design and costume and set construction to the actual filming, was endlessly interesting. Matt looked fairly silly in his "Arabian nights" costume, and Zach never missed a chance to tell him so. He was learning just how far he could needle the guy to keep him anxious and interested. 179


There were a lot of other attractive actors in the movie, too. Happily for Zach, none of them were blond or red-haired. Matt had played around with a few of them, but there were no serious rivals, at least not here. The series of articles was shaping up nicely. Matt had talked about his marriages (never suggesting they were shams, of course), his career, his hopes and ambitions. On the subject of marriage he had said, with only the faintest trace of irony, "I guess I just haven't met the right woman yet. Maybe I'm too focused on my career." Both he and Zach knew perfectly well that that was showbiz boilerplate for "I'm gay," but Zach played along dutifully and wrote it all down like a recording angel. At the same time, the flirtation between them continued, and Matt became more and more persistent in his attempts to seduce Zach. Zach loved every minute of it. He was quite careful never to drop a hint that he was the one doing the seducing, at least in his own mind. His stories about his purportedly wild sexual past grew longer and longer, more and more detailed and even lurid. He had, he claimed, tried every fetish and kink known to the human race. Matt was hooked; he kept pressing for more and more. Zach happily spun his fantasies, like that Arabian Nights princess spinning stories for the sultan to string him along and keep herself alive. There were times when Matt almost salivated at the thought of Zach in all those wild sexual adventures. And his excitement showed. During the second week of this, he actually began stroking his crotch, quite openly, as Zach told his tales. 180


Zach, needless to say, was wildly excited by it all, but he was careful not to let it show. Time and again he'd end his little stories with some variation of "But that's all behind me now. I really am ready to settle down." Matt expressed his most avid curiosity about Zach's imaginary professor/boyfriend. He pressed for details, and once or twice even asked to meet the guy. Zach kept putting him off with vague excuses like "He's not a show business type," "You wouldn't understand each other," and on and on. Finally one day Matt couldn't contain himself. While Zach was inventing salacious details about his Belgian fire brigade, Matt opened his fly and began to jerk off. Zach happily described his imaginary orgy, mouths kissing and sucking, cocks throbbing, orgasms erupting. Zach had pretended he wasn't interested in what Matt was doing, and he kept talking. Just at the climax of the story, Matt came and shot a huge load all over the carpet. "You really need to practice self-control." Zach was wry. "What will the cleaning lady think?" At the end of the third week, he had an announcement for Matt. "We're going to have to wrap this up. My editor's impatient. There are other stories he wants me on." "Don't go. Tell him to go to hell." "It's my job, Matt. My career, such as it is. I really have to get back to New York." "And what happens to your professor?" "I don't know. He'll get a post at one of the colleges up there. Or I'll commute down here on weekends. We'll find a way." 181


"I want to meet him, Zach. I want to see this man you find more desirable than me." "No way. You'd only make a play for him." "But—" "He's what I want, Matt. I keep telling you, I'm ready to settle into a real, lifelong romance. You're not." "I could be." "Right. You think I don't know you've been playing around with the bit players and the grips? I'm a reporter, remember? I dig things out." "But, Zach, when I do that, I'm always thinking of you." "You see what I mean?" Matt couldn't have been more unhappy. He wasn't used to being refused, for sex, romance, or anything else. The day before Zach was to leave, Matt hit him with a proposition. "I know what'll keep you here." "Super Glue?" "I'm serious, Zach. I want you to write my official biography." It caught Zach by surprise. "You're only 36. You're too young for a biography." "Be serious. Every movie star of any note gets a biography written about him. You know the kind of thing I mean—lots of juicy gossip, lots of light, easy-to-digest facts and factoids. And here's the best part." Zach narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Yeah?" "You can promise The Back Fence they'll have exclusive rights to print excerpts before the official publication date. If that doesn't keep your editor happy, nothing will." 182


"Hmm. You're onto something. Harvey will snap it up like a trout goes for a fly." And Harvey did. He practically salivated when Zach proposed the idea to him. He even increased Zach's expense allowance. "But do everything you can to get some real dirt on him. I'm counting on you." Zach was playing things just right. All the parts of his plan were fitting together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. The next step was to dispose of his "boyfriend," the professor. He told Matt, "He's leaving for China on a cultural exchange. Some Chinese professor is coming here." "For how long?" He acted unhappy. "A year. I don't know how he can leave me like this. He never even mentioned this was in the works." "So now you'll listen to other offers?" "Stop it, Matt. You know what I want, and it's not you and your lifestyle." "We'll see." It took a bit more negotiating with Harvey to get all the details set. Deb Froman remained as suspicious as ever. Matt placated her by assuring her he'd have absolute approval of the final biography. When everything was set and ready to go, and Zach had signed a contract to do the book, Matt threw him another curveball. "There's one more condition." By this point Zach would have agreed to anything—after pretending to be reluctant, of course. "What condition?" "Have you ever seen Gods and Monsters?" "The Ian McKellen movie? Sure. He was great in that." 183


"Bitch. You're supposed to think of it as a Brendan Fraser movie. It's always the younger actor who's the draw." "Spoken like a younger actor. But what about it?" "You remember the game the movie director in that played with the cute young reporter who was interviewing him?" Zach knew what was coming, and he loved the idea. But he acted suspicious. "You mean the 'strip interview'?" "Yep. We're going to play that. For every question you ask me in one of our private interviews, you have to take off one item of clothing." He loved it. But he couldn't let it show. "Well...okay, but only if you'll do the same." "Interview you? But—" "You've cross-examined me so many times, I couldn't count them all with an abacus. 'Tell me about your ski instructor' or 'tell me what you did with that airplane pilot' or..." Matt laughed long and hard. "You're right, I have." He hesitated for a moment, then acquiesced. "Sure. Let's do it." "Done." They shook hands on it. Zach wondered aloud, "Do you think James Boswell had that kind of deal with Samuel Johnson?" "Who gives a shit? Come over here and kiss me." "I have a boyfriend, remember?" "Yeah, a boyfriend who's conveniently out of the picture. I'm your boyfriend now." Zach put on a sardonic smirk. "We'll have to see about that." 184


"I'm going to have you, Zach Regan. I want you more and more." "You can't always get what you want." Zach was breezy. But hearing Matt say those words thrilled him. The next day they got down to work. The crew had been scheduled to shoot the start of a "sea battle" on the lake, but the weather had turned stormy overnight. At eight A.M. an assistant director notified Matt that they wouldn't be needing him that day after all, so he called Zach and told him to come up to his suite so they could get started. Zach was still in bed. He had expected to spend a leisurely day watching Matt at work. He got out of bed and dressed quickly, putting on a suit and tie—and a few extra items of clothing—and headed up to the eighth floor. He expected Matt to be fully dressed too—their "game" seemed to demand it— but he was in his robe, no socks or shoes, no shirt, no pants. At the sight of his "just enough chest hair," Zach let out a little gasp. "What's wrong? You've seen me like this before. And more." Matt put on a wide grin. "Suit and tie, eh? You're a bitch." "Are we writing a biography or playing sex games?" "In my case, there's not a lot of difference." "Should I put that in the book?" Matt waved him into the room. "You do, and Deb will come after you with a baseball bat." Matt had arranged two leather chairs to face each other across a small table. Zach settled into one of them. "Why don't you call room service and have some coffee sent up? 185


I'm not used to having to make my brain work hard this early in the morning." "I had the same thought." He called. "It'll be here in a minute. Should we get started?" Zach switched on his voice recorder. "Sure." "Are we playing our game then, Zach?" "I thought you were always playing." "Touche. But you have to start undressing, then." "What! We've just started." "You've been asking me questions since I opened the door. I won't count the request for coffee, but even at that, there have been at least three questions." "Damn you, Maddox." Reluctantly Zach loosened his tie and took it off. Then he took the handkerchief out of his jacket and laid it on the table. "Nope. That won't do." Matt was clearly enjoying this. "A hanky is not an article of clothing." "But—" "But nothing. It doesn't count. I want to see real stripping." Zach was pleased, but as usual he was careful not to let it show. He tucked the hanky back in his pocket and took his shoes off. "There—happy?" Matt sat down in the chair opposite and let his robe fall open. He was wearing nothing under it but a pair of white bikini briefs. Casually he began stroking himself. "Look, Matt, this is supposed to be a work session. Will you please stop that?" "That's another question. Take something off." 186


"Damn. I'll be naked in no time." "I know it." He had never smiled a smile so wide. So Zach took off a sock. Under it was another one. He had put on three pairs. Matt scowled. "That's cheating. How many extra clothes do you have on?" "That's a question, Mr. Maddox. Off with the robe." He let his robe fall. For the first time, Zach let himself savor the sight of Matt's body for real, in person. He already knew every inch of it from the movies and from their encounter in St. Peter's, but seeing it again was so satisfying. It was exactly as he remembered it: lean, muscled, firm legs, well-developed chest, and just enough hair to emphasize the contours... But as always he assumed a nonchalant air. "Now, let's start with your childhood." After fifteen minutes and six socks, two t-shirts and three pairs of boxers, Zach was nearly naked. He was down to nothing but a pair of bikinis he had worn under the boxers. He maintained his cool, professional manner. Matt couldn't seem to take his eyes off of him. Yes, he was Matt's type, all right—big time. Matt had been playing it cool, too, trying to keep his keen interest under control, not to let it show too much. They had gone through the basics of Matt's early years. Iowa farm boy, loved the outdoors and nature, middling student, socially awkward as a kid, played football, and wrestled for his high school. Finally Zach's seeming aloofness got to him and he couldn't stand it anymore. "What about 187


you? I know you grew up in Toledo. But what kind of kid were you?" "Off with the underwear, Matt." Eagerly Matt got to his feet and removed them. He was getting hard, and it showed. "Now answer." Zach was distracted. He had seen Matt naked before, even seen him in hot sexual action, even seen him jerk off that once, but never this close, never so intimately. He felt himself starting to get hard inside his bikinis and crossed his legs to cover it. That fact that Matt seemed to be enjoying it all only made it sweeter. "I guess I was a bit of a late bloomer. I was always a big film buff, and I guess I was so wrapped up in the screen world I never imagined anyone in the real world would want me." "You weren't an athlete, then?" "Nope. I seem to stay in shape without ever working out." "Bastard. When was your first time?" Another question. But Matt was already stark naked. Zach invented still another story. "I was on a hiking trip with some other guys. We decide to take a quick jog through the woods, and this park ranger stopped us and forced us to have sex with him." It was true—kind of. That really had been Zach's first time—sort of. He remembered that porn movie well enough to be able to fill in details when Matt pressed for more information. As Zach fleshed out the story, Matt's cock fleshed out, too. It twitched, swelled, and then throbbed. It took all of Zach's self-control not to get down on his knees and kiss it, worship it. 188


"Can we please get back to work, Matt?" "Another question. Off with the underwear!" "That wasn't a question. It was a demand." Matt slumped back in his chair. His hardon started to go down. "You really are a bitch, Zach Regan. But so help me, I'll have you before this is over." Zach smiled a little smile and thought, I've already got you, Matt Maddox. The interview went on. Matt talked about his family, about the way the acting bug had bitten him in college, about everything before his career really began—he left out any reference to that porn shoot he had done. From time to time he stroked his cock slightly, hoping to get a response out of Zach. But by this point Zach found playing it cool easy. "Look, Matt, this game is pointless. Silly, even. We're going to end up buck naked every day. If we absolutely have to do this, why don't we just agree to do all our sessions in the nude, and dispense with any pretense that we both don't know what you want." Frustration showed. "You are one cool customer. The coolest." "I prefer the word professional." "Call it what you like. Christ, don't you have any hormones? A guy your age, and as hot as you...?" Zach shrugged and asked another question. After a few more minutes of this, Matt extended his leg and touched Zach's foot with his. He stroked up and down the calf. For a moment, Zach fell silent. Then, "Do we have a deadline for this book?" 189


"Stop being so damn professional. Let me kiss you again." "Matt, I—" Matt jumped out of his chair, caught Zach by the shoulder and kissed him, longer and deeper than he had before. Zach kissed him back. The moment was wonderful for both of them—for different reasons. Matt took his chair again. He had a roaring erection. "I'm going to jerk off again, looking at you, Zach." "If you must." "It's either that or I jump you and rape you right now." "Jerk away, then." [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Nineteen Love Story Things went on that way for weeks. Matt continued work on the film, but it was frequently interrupted by bad weather. There were interior scenes to shoot, but the bulk of the picture was to take place outdoors and on the water. Apparently no one had bothered to check the Toledo weather before committing to make the movie there. Zach spent time watching the shoot—and watching Matt. Matt was everything he'd ever dreamed he'd be, not just physically. He was warm, open, and smart. Zach was slowly but surely falling in love with him, in a way he had never imagined when he was just a smitten movie fan. He was determined to write a biography that would do full justice to its subject. When he wasn't on the set observing, or spending time with Matt, he was alone in his room, working on the book. The interview sessions, per their agreement, were always conducted in the nude. Matt kept flirting, more and more overtly and irresistibly. Zach was careful not to let things go too far too fast. There was every sign Matt was falling for him too, and not just as a sex object. Kissing and hugging, Zach would allow. In fact, he relished it . Fondling was okay too, but never for too long and never below the belt. From time to time, just to spice things up and keep Matt's interest up, he'd invent more stories about his 191


supposed sexual escapades. Some of them were real, based on his actual experiences, but always embellished in a way calculated to keep Matt aroused. There was not one Tower of London guard, for instance, but a platoon of them having an orgy, with Zach at the center of it. Zach made up a wide variety of stories for Matt—army drill sergeants, plumbers and their helpers, a Swedish count with a thing for getting whipped, cable installers... When Matt would make comments to the effect that Zach was much too experienced for someone his age, Zach would smile shyly and change the subject. Then one stormy day they were together, naked in Matt's suite, having more conversations that would make their way into the book. It was past lunch time, and Matt was hungry. "Why don't I call room service and have something sent up?" "Sure. I'm ready to eat, too." Matt called and ordered a grilled Reuben and fries for himself. Then he asked Zach what he'd like. "Hmm... ham and Swiss on rye, I think. Tell them to hold the pickle." Matt froze and peered at Zach. "What did you say?" "Um...hold the pickle...?" Zach was baffled at the reaction. Then it hit him. "On second thought, just order me a cheeseburger." "No—what did you say first?" "Nothing, Matt. A burger will be fine."

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But for the rest of that afternoon Matt kept watching Zach. Some memory had been triggered, or almost triggered, and he was working like hell to bring it back. Later that afternoon the storms cleared away and the clouds broke. There seemed to be a million stars that night, and there was a bright crescent moon. A meteor shower was predicted for that evening, and now it would be visible. It was too late in the day for any production to happen, so Matt had the evening off. He and Zach strolled the waterfront, chatting idly the way friends do. Once or twice, when there was no one else in sight, Matt took Zach's hand, and Zach let him, and squeezed back. But the moment anyone else appeared on the scene, Matt would pull away. To all appearances, they were "just friends." "Are you ever going to get over that?" Zach was never sure whether to be annoyed or amused at Matt's closet. "Get over what?" "Hiding. Real men don't. What would your fans think?" "To my fans, I'm straight as an arrow. And a real man. They wouldn't have me any other way." "You'd be surprised. At least by some of them." The two Sinbad ships were moored side by side. The water was still a bit choppy, and they rocked gently. "You haven't actually been on my ship yet, have you, Zach?" "'My ship'? It's yours, not Sinbad's, not the production company's?" "Stop it. You haven't been aboard yet, have you?" Zach shook his head. "I'm a landlubber, born and bred. Even when I lived here, I always avoided the lake." 193


"Then it's time for you to get your sea legs." He chuckled. "I didn't know you're a leg man, Matt." "For your legs, yes. Come on." They climbed the gangway onto the ship. It rocked gently on the waves, gently but enough for Zach to have trouble keeping his balance. The deck was made of rough-hewn boards. He commented that if he fell he'd get a million splinters. "I know it. I had it built that way on purpose, so I can take your splinters out—with my teeth." "You're a monomaniac, Matt, be serious." Most of the ship below deck was an empty hulk. Most interior scenes would be shot in the studio. Only one cabin had been finished and furnished—the captain's cabin. It was filled with fine, plush, expensive furniture, and paintings hung on the walls. There were a dozen oil lamps, some on tables and desktops, some in wall sconces. Matt went around the room lighting them. When they were all burning brightly he paused and smiled. "Romantic, isn't it?" "An opulent room on an empty ship. What could be more romantic?" The centerpiece of the cabin was an enormous bed, just by the bank of windows at the ship's rear. It was clearly overstuffed, and was covered with a bright red velvet bedspread. A half dozen plump pillows in red and purple were strewn across it. "So that's where you and your leading lady get it on, eh?"

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"Well, we act like we're getting it on. She's a dyke. Or didn't you know?" Softly, with none of his usual mocking tone, Matt gestured at the bed. "Shall we?" "Shall we? Matt, you know me better than that." "Yes I do. You are a fraud, Zach Regan. Come to bed with me, now." "What?" "You heard me. You gave it away this afternoon. You've been stalking me for months, haven't you?" "Wh—no! What could make you think that?" "'Ham and Swiss on rye.' It was that 'Swiss' that gave it to me. That was you in Rome, wasn't it?" "Rome? No, I've never been there." "For a tabloid reporter, you're a poor liar. I'm onto you, Zach. Admit it." He had been found out, and he knew it. "Well... What happened in Rome was purely by chance. I was exploring the basilica when I stumbled across them. Then you came in." Matt reached up and stroked Zach's cheek. "Why didn't you join us?" "I—I wanted to. Honest I did. But Europe had been one long sexual adventure for me. I was—well, it was my first and only sexual odyssey, and every single encounter I had left me feeling empty. Unsatisfied." "I could have satisfied you." He shook his head. "I didn't know you were you. I believed all the PR about it being your double." "You would have joined in if you'd known it was me? I'm flattered." 195


Zach looked away, embarrassed. "I guess I've had a crush on you since I was a kid." "So very long ago." Matt chuckled. Forcefully he said, "Come over here." "Yes, sir." Zach had never known him to take command so overtly. He crossed the room and stood right in front of Matt. "Good boy. Now put your arms around me." He did. "Now kiss me." Zach kissed him. Neither of them said a word, they just stood and stared into each other's eyes. Then Zach silently leaned forward and kissed Matt's shoulder. He buried his face in Matt's chest and murmured, "I've wanted you for so long." "Again, Zach." And a second time they kissed. This was the first time they'd kissed when Zach didn't hold back. He threw himself into it with all the passion in him. Matt threw his arms around him and held him tighter and tighter. "I've wanted you too, Zach, since that first night. Since Rome, even. I never imagined I'd see you again." Outside, the meteor shower was beginning. Falling stars lit the sky from horizon to horizon. Their glow warmed the cabin. Zach watched it from the corner of his eye. It was a perfect moment, corny as hell yet sublimely romantic, too— exactly like the Hollywood movies he grew up on. He looked into Matt's eyes once more: his own piece of Hollywood romance. Matt led him to the bed, got down on his knees and undressed him. Zach did the same. As always, when he saw 196


Matt's chest, he swooned a little. He kissed Matt's cock, then got back to his feet—and Matt's arms. Their cocks were throbbing, their bodies were hot with passion and desire. They kissed. They could not stop kissing. Zach had been kissed before, many more times than just once, and they had all felt good, but none of them had ever warmed him and thrilled him like this. The feel of Matt's tongue on his was...perfect. It felt as if they were born to be together, that neither of them could ever be complete without the other's touch. Gently Matt pushed Zach back on the bed. Then lay down next to him. Their embrace was tighter and hotter than anything Zach had ever known, than anything he had ever imagined. He whispered, "Shouldn't we turn down the covers?" Matt smiled and kissed his nose. "There are no sheets, just the bedspread and pillows. Hollywood." A particularly bright meteor flared in the sky and lit Matt. His eyes glowed for an instant, like a cat's. And it outlined his chest. Zach felt the wildest surge of desire. He kissed one nipple, then the other, sucked them, nibbled them. Matt sighed with pleasure. He pulled Zach off his chest and kissed him again. But Zach wouldn't be stopped. He went back to the nipples and sucked and sucked. With the tip of his teeth, he nipped lightly. Matt moaned again, and the sound excited Zach even more. "Hey, hold it." Matt pulled him off again. "I get to have some fun too, you know." 197


He kissed Zach's chest, kissed his nipples, ran his tongue down his stomach and licked his navel. "There isn't one bit of your body I don't want in my mouth, Zach." Zach moaned even louder than Matt had. Then he propped himself up on one elbow and inched down toward Matt's crotch. Matt's cock was perfectly erect, perfectly shaped, perfectly smooth except for one thick vein running down the top. Zach ran his tongue along the vein. Matt sighed with pleasure. Zach took the tip of the cock in his mouth. It was bigger than he remembered from those porn shots and from Rome, bigger than any he'd ever had. But he was determined to take it all. Slowly, with a lot of concentration and determination, he slid it into his mouth and set up a sucking rhythm. The feel of it swelling in his mouth and throat excited him even more. It felt...perfect; it felt as if it was designed to fit into his mouth, and only his mouth. While he was sucking, he explored Matt's body with his hands. Legs, rock-hard nipples, balls. Matt's balls were huge. Zach left off sucking cock to lick them, suck them. He slid a fingertip up Matt's butt and played with the hole. This continued for long minutes. Zach moved his mouth from cock to balls to nipples again and again, and he never even thought of pausing to let Matt reciprocate. But finally, Matt took a firm grip on him and pulled him away. "It's my turn." Matt started by licking Zach's armpit. No one had ever done it before, and Zach was mildly alarmed. "I may be sweaty there." 198


"It tastes sweet." Matt kept on licking. "Sweeter than anything." Then he moved down to Zach's crotch and licked. Zach shuddered with the thrill of it. When Matt started sucking his cock, it felt...perfect. Perfect again. His dick belonged there in Matt's mouth; it had never felt so good anywhere else, and never would. Matt deep-throated it, took the whole thing into his mouth and down his throat, and suddenly, almost violently, Zach came. It was the hugest eruption of come he'd ever felt, and Matt swallowed every drop eagerly. "Sweetest damn man I've ever tasted. You must have been raised on sugar." "Matt, I—" "Be quiet and roll over." Zach did as he was told. Matt licked his butt, and it was glorious. It might have been the first time Zach ever felt such a thing. He moaned wildly. Matt whispered, "Are you ready?" "I've been ready my whole life." And so Matt fucked him. Slowly at first, then faster and faster. Zach had been concerned that Matt was too big for him to take comfortably, but there was no pain at all, not the least bit of discomfort. It felt—still again he found himself thinking it was perfect, just absolutely perfect. The pleasure was so intense. It was as if he was a complete man for the first time with Matt inside him. Matt came, and his pleasure was so total he actually cried out. "Oh! Ah!" Hearing it brought a huge smile to Zach's face. 199


They lay side by side for a few moments, hugging, fondling, nuzzling. Then Matt said, "Now you. I want to feel you inside me." It surprised Zach. "You're the older guy. You're supposed to be the top." Matt kissed him quickly. "Bullshit. Fuck me." He sucked Zach's cock again, got it rock solid, then straddled him and sat on it. They fucked for long minutes. When Zach finally came, it was even more intense than the first time. Matt came at the same moment, spraying his jizz all over Zach's chest. Then he quickly changed positions and licked it all up. They each fucked the other three more times as the night went on. Then, quite exhausted, they fell blissfully asleep in each other's arms. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Twenty It's a Wonderful Life By the dawn's early light they snuggled together for twenty minutes, then decided to get up and face the world. "We really need to get out of here. The crew will be coming on board any time now." Matt yawned. It emphasized his chest even more than usual, and Zach got excited all over again. "Let's make love again, Matt." "Later, slut." They dressed, then embraced and kissed again for what seemed to Zach like forever. "Matt, I don't want this to end." "It won't. I told you—I want you, too." He hesitated, clearly unsure whether to go on. Then he found his resolve. "I love you, Zach. Let's get married." Instead of answering Zach kissed him for the umpteenth time. "You know that's what I want. No—you are what I want. Any way I can have you. I never thought I'd find myself saying it, but—" "Be quiet. We have to get out of here. We're both talking like characters in one of my movies. We'll have plenty of time for that later. As they were coming down the gangway, there was someone on the pier watching. Zach realized it was Toby Marriner. He tensed and held back. "Don't worry, Zach. It's just one of our security guys. He won't say anything to anybody." 201


"I know him from school. He's gay. He'll guess what's going on." "Don't worry, I said. All of our people have to sign strict nondisclosure agreements that cover everything connected with the movie. If he says anything, we'll sue his damn ass off." They kept walking down the gangway. Matt acted quite convincingly nonchalant; Zach had trouble hiding his uneasiness. When they passed, Toby smiled. "Morning, Mr. Maddox. Hi, Zach." Zach whispered to Matt, "He knows, I tell you. It's the kind of thing he'd do too, if he had the chance." "Is he really that bad?" "He's a snake. Stole my boyfriend once. We can't trust him. He made a real pain of himself when we were in school together." Matt smiled an artificial movie-star smile. "Is everything okay here?" "Yes, sir." Toby was obviously burning to know for sure that what he guessed about them was true. "But no one's supposed to be on the ships." "You should have been more watchful, then. It's okay for me to be here, but someone should have noticed—should have known." "I'll be more careful in the future, sir." "See that you do." Ten minutes later they were back at the hotel, ordering breakfast in Matt's suite. 202


Zach couldn't stop looking at him. The man of his dreams—and he was his, all his. Matt noticed and asked, "What's wrong?" "Wrong? Nothing at all." He wasn't about to admit how completely in love he was, even though he knew it must have been obvious. "It's just that—I don't know—that little run-in with Toby on the dock." "That security guy?" "Yeah. I'm not used to—I'm not used to hiding." "I'm a movie star. It's part of the job description. Maurice Chevalier use to tell people his lover was really just his valet." "You're not Chevalier. And I'm not your husband, not quite yet." "Look, Zach, do you think I like it any more than you do? Do you think I don't want to jump on a soapbox and shout 'I love this man!'?" "Then—? You can afford a soapbox—or two, or a thousand." "Do you want to see my tax returns? Do you want to know how much of my income I give to human rights organizations? George Clooney isn't the only progressive in Hollywood, you know." Zach shifted gears at once. "You know George Clooney! Is he—?" "You've got to stop thinking like a tabloid reporter. Ask him." "You mean I'll get to meet him?" Instead of answering, Matt went on talking about his career. "I'm not in the top tier yet. Hell, I may never be. But 203


I'm making a lot of money, and I'm doing a lot of good with it. Why kill the goose that's laying golden eggs for America? Why do you think Deb's so protective of me?" "You mean it isn't just because it's her job?" "Really, Zach. There are progressive law firms and PR agencies. Besides, do you know how many closeted Scientologists and other right-wing loons there are in Hollywood? I'm doing everything I can to counter them." "I think you could do even more by coming out?" "And end my career? Like I said, the goose that laid the golden egg. I'm funding community centers, youth support projects, and a lot more. You want that to end?" Zach fell silent for a moment. "Not an easy issue, is it?" "That's what I've been trying to tell you. But we can talk about all that later. I'll come out when the time seems right. For now...let's call Deb." "Huh? Talk about a quick end to romance." "Be quiet. You have to learn to trust us." Deb arrived a few minutes later. When she got to the suite, the two of them were snuggling on the bed. Matt got up, let her in, then went back to Zach. She scowled at them. "Matt, do you really have to keep making my job harder?" "I'm afraid we're going to make it harder still, Deb. Zach and I are getting married." "What!" She staggered to a chair. "There are two justices of the peace and one judge in my family back in Iowa. The license will have my real last name 204


on it, not Maddox. Everything will be done as discreetly as possible. Then the ball will be in your court." "But—but—" "You can do it, Deb. You're the best." "But—but—" "You sound like a lawn mower." "But—" "Do you want me to have a drink for you sent up with our breakfast?" She finally recovered herself. "I'll be all right. But—I don't know what to say." Zach chimed in. "Why not congratulate the happy couple?" She did. Slowly, she was getting her bearings. "We can do this. I know we can. But Matt, are you really sure you want to do this?" "Secret marriages have always been a show business tradition. Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers based a whole movie on one. Shouldn't gay people be allowed to have them too? In the name of equality?" Finally Deb found her resolve. "Congratulations to both of you, then. Can I kiss the groom?" "Which one?" Slowly, decisively, she got to her feet, crossed to the bed and planted big sloppy kisses on both of them. "My God, I just kissed a tabloid reporter. I may have to resign as a PR person." "You'll be fine, Deb." Matt turned to Zach. And so will we." Just after Deb left the bellboy came with their breakfast. It was light, but enough to fuel them for the day, and the 205


bellboy added even more fuel. He was college age, medium height with medium brown hair. As he served them from his cart, he had the most adorable smile. He looked at the two of them with obvious interest and curiosity. When he had laid out their entire breakfast, he left discreetly. They ate quickly, then made love again. Despite all they had done during the night, they still found new places on each other's bodies that were sensitive, places to be fondled, stroked, licked, and aroused. Their lovemaking, for the fifth time, was the most intensely passionate thing either of them had ever felt. Toes, throats, stomachs, backs, there was no part of either of them that the other left un-played-with. When they were finished, they lay side by side catching their breath. Matt glanced at the clock on the nightstand. "God, it's getting late. I've got a ten o'clock call." "Tell them you're sick." "I am. Lovesick. But I have to work." He kissed Zach and got out of bed to get dressed. Pulling his pants on, he turned and looked back at Zach. "I'll say it again: I've wanted you since the first time I saw you." "I can go you one better. I've loved you forever. In your loincloth, in your pink Speedo—and now in the flesh. I've never wanted anybody else. The others were just temporary substitutes, that's all." Matt narrowed his eyes. "If those 'others' even existed. Have you ever even been to Antwerp?" "Well..." "I thought as much." 206


"Matt Maddox, you've made me so damn happy, I can't believe it." "Good." One last time they kissed. Just at that moment the bellboy came back to clear their breakfast. Matt was only partially dressed; Zach was still in bed. The bellboy looked from one of them to the other, grinned, and then went on with his business. He dropped a fork and bent to pick it up, and his ass was perfectly shaped. Matt looked at Zach and saw the he was watching the bellboy too. He mouthed the words, "Should we?" Zach nodded eagerly. He had the Man of His Dreams. Why not put some icing on the cake? "Could you come over here and adjust these sheets for me?" The bellhop smiled. "Sure." He walked to the bed and started straightening the linens. Matt moved behind him and lightly fondled his butt. The bellboy grinned, and Zach leaned forward and kissed him. Violins swell on the soundtrack. Fade to black. The End.

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