Black Leather Phoenix By GA Hauser

BLACK LEATHER PHOENIX Copyright © G.A. Hauser, 2010 Cover Art by Stella Price ISBN Trade paperback: 978-1451-5733-0-5 The G.A. Hauser Collection
BREAKING CHAINS Copyright © 2010 JC Szot
This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events or locales is coincidental.
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
WARNING This book contains material that maybe offensive to some: graphic language, homosexual relations, adult situations. Please store your books carefully where they cannot be accessed by underage readers.
First The G.A. Hauser Collection publication: July 2010
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Prologue
Hiding in the shadows, Gale Hansen brought the drink to his lips and shot it down quickly. His world was collapsing around him and he was terrified. He knew one day it would come to this.

In acute paranoia Gale raised his eyes to the dim room while his heart exploded in his chest, the valves pumping in painful bursts. The glass shook and almost tipped over from his tremors as he tried to set it down. Blood. Dried blood stained his hands. Withdrawing them from the top of the table, Gale quickly lay them on his black leather-covered thighs running his hands nervously over their tight, slick surface. With the deepest agony seeking to overwhelm him, he tried to think, but couldn’t get his mind to stop running over that vision. That sick nightmare he left behind. Oh, God...
Covering his face, Gale tried not to weep like a child. When he felt someone near him, Gale jumped in surprise.
The waitress asked him, “You want another one, sugar?” “No,” he shook his head, “No, thank you,” and tried to get
the money out of his wallet despite his tremors. He gave her
ten dollars. “Keep the change.”
“Thanks, doll.” She smiled at him.
Tucking his blood-stained hands under his thighs, he
avoided everyone’s curious stares. Leave me alone. Didn’t he have a friend he could call? Did he have to
thumb through his business cards for help? Should he go to
the police? Would that be rational?
As he ran his hands back through his long black hair, his
whole body convulsed in spasms he couldn’t control. On
unsteadily limbs he rose up and left the bar.
The Harley Davidson ignited with a roar of the engine
shattering the silence. He glanced back once at the
hollowness of the night, then hit the highway. On a rare clear night when the autumn rains of Seattle halted, the moon was full and the air felt crisp. The noise of his roadster ripped the streets to shreds. Interstate 5 felt like a slalom course as he slid around cars like a downhill racer around poles. And all he wanted to do was hit the sky.
Chapter 1
“Gale, dear, why don’t you mingle? You look absolutely morbid standing there in the corner all alone.”
Showing his disdain for the gathering, Gale inspected his mother’s best friend, Muriel Brown. He hated Muriel’s parties and never understood why she felt the need to invite him. “I don’t want to mingle. Go mingle yourself.”

Muriel waved to her one of her hired servers to pour Gale a fresh drink, taking his empty glass from him.
Muriel cupped his jaw like he was a little boy. “That pout.” She mimicked it. “I know you too well. You’re my responsibility. You always will be.”
Gale cringed. He was no one’s responsibility. Maybe Satan’s, that’s it.
Muriel pressed her lips to Gale’s ear. “I’ve known you since you were born, twenty-three years.” She caressed his cheek lovingly. “Your mother and I grew up and went to high-school together. Gale, my precious, you are like a son to me.”
“Almost.” Gale smiled wickedly. “It isn’t proper to lust after your own son.” He waited for her reaction, adding, “But that doesn’t stop my crazy mother.”
“Don’t talk like that about Patty. She never touched you inappropriately. The poor thing tried her best. You try having a baby at fifteen.” Muriel pointed to the tray of alcohol. “Here’s a fresh drink, Gale, dear.” She handed it to him. “Now. There are people here who can help you. Connections you can make to further your career.” As if she were unable to resist, Muriel brushed Gale’s hair back from his face.
He raised his gaze, finding her brown, forty year old eyes and sad smile. Muriel’s face appeared like a balloon to him, the wrinkles vanishing from the extra weight she carried. Her salt and pepper, short hair which usually was covered by a wig, was tucked into a chartreuse turban. Large, gaudy crystal beads hung around her neck, and her dress was a loud reddish floral print which reminded him of a Hawaiian muumuu. Muriel appeared as if she were about to read tarot cards or sit before a crystal ball. She was the one who introduced Gale’s mother to the occult.
Unfortunately, Gale had never told Muriel just how far he had taken that interest himself. But that was ages ago. Did it matter anymore?
“Muriel.” Gale smiled at her and shook his head. She was stuck in some time-warp-seventies hippie world, like his mother. “Further my career?” He chuckled and touched the fresh drink to his lips.
After stroking back his hair, like petting a favored cat, she smiled. Gale knew Muriel was either ‘reading’ him, or casting a spell. “Behave. I’m on to you,” he said.
“Never. And stop being so clever.” She smiled.
As he sipped his champagne, Gale studied the glittering chandelier and mahogany armoire in the formal dining room of Muriel’s fancy home in Woodway. A home purchased by her late wealthy husband, complete with a view of the Puget Sound and the Olympic Peninsula.
Though it wasn’t a large gathering it consisted of a few of Muriel’s dead husband’s business associates; hospital administrators, CEOs of large corporations and banks, the usual assortment of Seattle and Bellevue’s elite.
At the moment Gale and Muriel were huddled in the corner between her potted fichus tree and original Chagall. Gale noticed their tete-a-tete getting suspicious glances from several attendees. And as usual against propriety, Muriel felt she needed to keep caressing him, running her hand down his neck to his chest.
His six foot two inch height towered over her five foot two inch frame, but Muriel knew how to control him. Money. She had it, he needed it. That and her constant casting of love and possessive spells.
Lowering his fluted glass, Gale met her gaze; the lust in her eyes a very familiar sight. “Did you say, ‘further my career’? What career?” he asked.
As if waking from one of her séances, she stepped back and cleared her throat. “At The Times, Gale. Your job at The
Seattle Times.”
With everything Gale possessed, he held back a nasty remark regarding the pathetic attempt of his father at getting him work. According to Melvin Hansen he had given his son several chances at employment, this one being the most comical to date.

A reporter? What the hell did Gale know about journalism? He was a drop-out from Ballard High-school. Melvin was using every favor he had, every contact he could dig up, to get the dope-addict-hood-offspring he was saddled with, employed and away from his bank accounts.

Gale never lasted more than a week in any of the fabricated jobs. He knew his father held no hope for him this time either. Gale assumed if he had a strong interest in one career he’d pursue it. He just didn’t know what he wanted to be ‘when he grew up.’

“This is your last chance,” Melvin warned, “If you quit this time, you will be cut off financially.”
Gale felt Muriel watching him. “Stop reading me.”
Muriel caressed his black leather-covered bottom affectionately. “Gale, my pet, I’m certain your resistance to relationships is a product of your tortured youth.”
He stifled a choke. No. It’s a product of Mom teaching me how to draw pentagrams and cast demonic circles.
“At least try to have fun. Have you eaten?” She gestured to the buffet that was laid out like a king’s banquet on the dining room table.
Thinking vaguely of the idea of ingesting something nutritious, he leaned over to have a peek at it. “I’ll eat something before I go.”
“Good. Say good-bye before you do. Don’t just slip out. If it wasn’t for that motorcycle of yours I’d never hear you coming or going.” She reached up to caress his face again.
He felt her rubbing over the stubble from one day’s growth of beard. “I’ll say good-bye, Muriel, I promise.”
“Good boy.” Lingering, she ran her painted nails near his lips before she walked away.
Gale was convinced Muriel had cast a spells on him. He knew what she wanted. She craved to tie him up and sexually have her way with him. He had visions of that in his dreams.
Dreams were nothing but suppressed thoughts, not visions or predictions. But he had no desire for female flesh, and that included Muriel. He shivered at the lingering sensation of her touch. He didn’t underestimate Muriel’s psychic powers. He knew better than that.
~
“Muriel, what a wonderful little gathering,” Helen Friedel said as Muriel moved through the room.
“Thank you, Helen, dear. I’m so glad you’re having a good time. Where is your husband? Oh. There he is with Jonathan. Hello, Bradley.” She waved. “How are you boys enjoying yourselves?”
“Your parties are always the event of the fall. You know we’d never miss it.” Bradley stole a champagne glass off a passing tray.
Muriel laughed at the flattering comment. Since her Chamber of Commerce
carried on the tradition
president husband had died she herself. A kind of who’s who convention before the end of the year. Muriel’s husband was fifteen years her senior and had left her a fortune. She continued the gatherings in some part in his honor. The other reason was her loneliness. She needed an excuse to fill the house with people.
Peeking at a wall mirror, Muriel noticed her red lipstick staining her front teeth. She rubbed at it quickly, took a meatball off a tray and ate it from its toothpick, not missing a beat. With her mouth full she asked, “So, Jonathan, how is your work going with all these horrid foreclosures and banks getting the blame?”
“Busy like the devil trying to fend off the tide.” His grin was slightly crooked.
Muriel noticed Jonathan’s attention diverted to the solo male near a corner of the room by the fichus tree and her priceless Chagall. A young man whose tight slacks were black leather, and whose soft cream-colored shirt was opened low on his chest revealing sparse hair. What could Muriel do but be amused. Gale stuck out of the gathering like a demon surrounded by choir boys.
The amount of effort Jonathan needed to focus on Muriel and keep that sensual distraction to a minimum, delighted Muriel immensely. “Yes. The paper is making you all out to be nothing more than greedy beasts. I’m sorry, Jonathan. I bet it’s keeping you all on your toes.”
“I’m afraid so. No time for anything anymore, just work, work, work.” Jonathan sipped his champagne, his eyes wandering back to Gale’s posture of repose.
Muriel inspected Jonathan’s full head of silver hair. He was tall and muscularly built. His gray eyes revealed his extremely sharp intelligence. Muriel peeked in the direction Jonathan was obsessing over. Gale Hansen was indeed worthy of a good ogle.
Helen obviously noticed the man who had captured both her and Jonathan’s eye. Helen said, “Muriel, who, I mean whom is that man?”
Muriel met Helen’s gaze and noticed her false eyelash glue blobbed on top of a feathery fake lash. “Whom? What man?” she asked, knowing exactly who Muriel meant. Oh, how I love this game.
Helen’s husband Bradley leaned in as the conversation metamorphosed into conspiratorial whispers.
“That man.” Helen breathed and pointed a latex nail. “In black leather.”
Helen sounded as if she were using profanity in a church. Muriel realized the four of them suddenly formed a footballtype huddle. She grinned at Gale as he finished his second drink and looked for a spot to stick the empty glass. “He’s the son of a very close friend of mine. His name is Gale Hansen. What do you think of him? Have you ever seen a more beautiful twenty-three year old boy in your life?” She puffed up her chest in pride and her cheeks grew hot as she thought about touching Gale in the most intimate ways.
Assuming her comments would be controversial, Muriel studied the other three as they appraised Gale. As Muriel suspected, Bradley was the first to turn away.
“He looks like a demon. What’s with the hair and leather?” Bradley was evidently repulsed.
Muriel figured that would be his response.
The image of snobbery, Helen raised her nose higher. “A common hooligan. I don’t know what you find so appealing. He doesn’t seem to fit in here, Muriel.”
Muriel concentrated on Jonathan.
Jonathan’s lips parted sensually as if he were literally sucked at the air for a taste of Gale.
Muriel knew. Oh yes. Gale is indeed the most beautiful boy you have ever seen, Jonathan Strickland.
As if she were doing a scientific study on human behavior, Muriel enjoyed the affect Gale had on people. “Let me introduce you to him.” She rushed off before the Friedels could grab after her in objection.
Affectionately, Muriel placed her arm around Gale’s narrow waist. “Come here, there are some people I want you to meet.”
Gale cringed. “Oh, no. Here we go. Muriel, just leave me alone. I was about to split.”
“One minute. Come with me.” She coaxed a very reluctant man to even more reluctant guests. Muriel was dying of curiosity and if she could have she would have burst out into hysterical laughter. “We’re all friends here, Gale, come along.” Savoring the heat of his side, the feel of the sinewy muscles, Muriel caught a scent of his musky cologne, or maybe it was just his satiny skin.
Gale groaned as he was brought too near to hide. “Why, why, why?”
“Because I want to show you off.” Muriel tightened her grip. Before she made it to the other side of the room, she whispered, “Gale, stop biting the inside of your cheek and take a deep breath.”
“I promised myself I wouldn’t allow you to talk me into another one of these stuffy parties.”
“But I have. And you’re here.”
Muriel, acting like the artist appraising her work, stepped back once she brought Gale into the tight group and inspected every reaction with intensity. She introduced Gale formally, saying each name for Gale to remember as Gale shook everyone’s hand politely. With a tilt of her head, Muriel signaled the server to get another drink for him.
As she observed, Gale tried to cover his eyes with his long fringe of hair. Aw, look. What an incredibly shy man. Ha! Yeah, right. Even you can’t pull that act off, Gale.
Jonathan asked, “Gale? That’s an odd name for a man.”
Slowly raising his lashes, Gale revealed his emerald green eyes. “My mom is a big fan of Queer as Folk.”
Jonathan’s elevated eyebrows expressed his surprise. “That show was aired in two-thousand. I’m afraid that’s not possible unless she was clairvoyant and could predict what Showtime would create thirteen years before it did.”
“Oh?” Gale stepped closer to Jonathan. “You guessed my age and you know that show? How intriguing.” Gale said to Muriel, “Is he another seer or have you been tipping him off?”
Muriel tried to remember if she had told Jonathan Gale was twenty-three. That did seem odd. Though Gale did look his age it was definitely on target as a ‘lucky guess’. Muriel suddenly recalled she had indeed said it.
An odd silence followed.
Loving every moment of this awkward meeting, Muriel was about to explode. Life was divine comedy at times, and being the director of the scene always gave her a nice head buzz. Running her hand down Gale’s arm affectionately, she said, “Gale is a reporter with The Times,” then thanked the server for Gale’s drink and handed it to him.
Bradley perked up. “The Times? You know Frank Pasco? He’s a very good friend of mine.”
As Gale’s lip curled in a sneer of disgust, Muriel could see Gale tried not to glare at Bradley.
“Frank Pasco is my boss and an asshole.”
Muriel caught Jonathan staring at Gale’s perfect white teeth as Gale snarled at the mention of that name. You know you want him, Jonathan. Isn’t Gale tempting? Muriel rubbed her hands together in glee. She knew Jonathan was married with two adult children. Jonathan never invited his wife Kim to any of the gatherings they’d both attended. Bad marriage? No sex? Closet gay? Aw, pity. Jonathan, you’re too easy to read.
Acting as though he were thick in the head, Bradley seemed unaware of Gale’s reaction. “Why do you say that?”
“Let’s not talk shop here, Bradley.” Jonathan changed the subject, evidently sensing Gale’s extreme discomfort.
Helen nudged Bradley. “Oh, look, honey, there’s Ray and Sue.” Helen waved across the room, hooked Bradley’s elbow, and escaped.
~
About to leave the party, Gale shot down his drink and noticed one of the hired maids whispering into Muriel’s ear. Muriel acknowledged her and addressed the two men, “A crisis in the kitchen. Will you excuse me, gentlemen.”
Gale nodded, spotting the twinkle in Muriel’s eye. He watched her leave, standing with this older man in awkward silence.
As if waiting until Muriel vanished, Jonathan brought his attention to Gale. His inspection began at Gale’s profile, he then moved downwards.
Gale felt like print on a page, as slowly, carefully, every detail of his body was admired.
Though Jonathan was trying not to be too obvious in his admiration, it seemed to Gale as if Jonathan was fingering his flesh as his leer passed over Gale’s length. He withstood the appraisal, fidgeting with discomfort, pretending this was not offensive.
Gale was a psychic sensitive, one who feels other’s moods and pains, and fought off the sensation of wicked intent.
It didn’t stop him from shifting nervously in his boots as he looked into the depths of the room.
A sensation rushed Gale, as if he and Jonathan had just shared a sensuous kiss with him. Gale whipped his head towards Jonathan to witness his reaction.
Jonathan appeared powerful, rubbing his mid-section as if he felt a flutter in his stomach. Strangely, Gale felt pressure on the exact spot on his own abdomen. A spot where he sported a tattoo.
“You okay?” Gale asked.
It seemed Jonathan purposely acted puzzled. His explanation sounded insincere. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” He touched his forehead in a cliché gesture.
Gale met Jonathan’s eyes. The connection set him aflame but not in a necessarily good way.
Jonathan scanned the proximity of the occupants of the room before he said, “I think you’re remarkable looking. I hope you’re not offended by my saying so.”
Gale cleared his throat. “No offense taken.” Toying with the empty glass in his hand, Gale looked for a place to set it down unsuccessfully. He sighed audibly and said, “So, Jonathan, what is it you do?”
“I’m the president of a bank.” Jonathan appeared very proud of that announcement.
Gale thought he shouldn’t be, considering the news they spewed out about the bank’s responsibility for the bad economy. “Oh. And you have so much spare time at the moment you can play?”
“Muriel is very kind and I allow myself an evening of leisure on occasion.”
Gale knew Jonathan was losing his concentration and interest in the topic. He felt Jonathan’s lingering stare on the lines of his jaw and cheekbones and it seemed as if it was difficult for Jonathan to focus with any clarity.
The appraisal had begun again in earnest. Gale lowered his gaze to his boots and shifted anxiously, feeling very timid and inadequate next to this man. It made Gale want to run for the door.
It didn’t help that Gale could read every lascivious thought going through this man’s head. Thank you, Satan, you turned every meeting into a proposition. I asked for one good man to have sex with, not many men to have meaningless affairs with.
“Why do you hate reporting?” Jonathan asked.
Gale shrugged and felt like an adolescent, knowing he was out of his league with this sophisticated CEO.
“Why don’t you try a more lucrative business?” Jonathan moved closer, brushing Gale’s shoulder with his own. “Something you’ll enjoy.”
When Jonathan’s heat penetrated through his silk shirt, Gale raised his eyes instantly to the leering gray ones.
A thundercloud of anguish flashed over Gale and he knew Jonathan noticed the darkness in his expression.
“I’ve hit a chord.” Jonathan sounded apologetic, but looked satisfied.
Gale grimaced involuntarily. He could sense Jonathan searching for a reason for the change in his countenance.
“It’s very obvious to me, Gale, you should be doing something else.”
At the comment, Gale swallowed down poisonous thoughts. It made him close his eyes and tilt his face away from Jonathan. A rush of sensual pleasure washed over Gale, but he knew it was Jonathan’s pleasure, not his. His empathic energy was warning him.
Jonathan said quietly, “You look like a Botticelli saint.” He stared, mesmerized.
The intensity of erotic sensation increased in Gale.
“A punished archangel.”
“No.” Gale held up his hand at the comparison, terror seizing him. Taking a step back, Gale hoped the space would make the contact with Jonathan less intimate and the sensations would let go. Gale gave his glass to a passing servant with an elevated tray. He ran his hand back through his hair, pulling it off his face.
“You hate this, don’t you?” Jonathan smiled too knowingly.
Gale exhaled tiredly. “I don’t know why Muriel invites me. I have nothing in common with any of you. I know she tries.” Gale fought hard to find the right words.
“I didn’t only mean you hate these parties. You hate your life, your job, everything about your situation.” Jonathan’s mouth tightened. “Let me tell you why you are here.”
Gale felt icy cold, as if the temperature around him had fallen ten degrees. He knew what that meant. Something was draining his energy. In Muriel’s home, it could be any number of undead entities.
“You are an adornment, my handsome friend. Like her costly Chagall or Rodin. A pretty little sculpture for us to admire.” Jonathan touched Gale’s arm.
Fear and mistrust Gale had seen in many eyes. This was lust. Pure, throbbing, wicked lust.
In another cliché gesture, Jonathan tilted his head to the side like a puppy trying to understand the human language.
Gale could tell Jonathan had a tremendous urge to reach up and dig his fingers through his hair. He watched Jonathan’s hand clenching and opening. Instead of that caress, Jonathan dug through his wallet. “Here, you never know when it’ll come in handy.”
Gale’s attention was drawn downward. With reluctance, he took the card from Jonathan’s masculine hand, meeting those inquisitive eyes once again.
A flash of burning heat scorched Gale, sending his cock thick in his leather pants. Imagining the feel of Jonathan’s skin against his own, Gale licked his lips and closed his eyes to understand it. No. No. I can’t be sensing this.
Gale woke out of his stupor and spotted Muriel in the room.
Gale held her still before she walked passed him. “Muriel, please bring me my jacket and helmet.” He had to leave.
“Are you sure, baby?” She cupped his jaw.
“Yes.”
Muriel’s glance quickly found Jonathan before she left the room.
Gale wondered if Muriel had read it all in a split second. Knowing Muriel, she had. It didn’t take long for her to return.
“Thank you.” Gale took his black leather from her as she stood close to him. He sensed Jonathan watching as he slipped on his jacket and took his black helmet from Muriel’s outstretched hand. Almost with an unconscious movement, Gale tucked the business card into his wallet and zipped up his jacket. Distracted and deep in thought, he wedged the helmet under his arm and took one last look at Jonathan before he left.
Jonathan reached out his hand. When Gale clasped it, the shake was vibrating and very strong. With the expertise of many psychic readings, Gale studied Jonathan’s body language and facial expression. Just as Gale began to get something substantial from the touch, the hand moved out of his reach.
Jonathan locked his gaze on Gale’s narrow hips and then his crotch.
“I have to go.” Gale spun away from his intimidating leer.
Muriel walked Gale to the door, opening her arms for an embrace. “Must you leave? Did you eat anything? You know you’re welcome to sleep here. Are you drunk?”
“No. I’m sober. Thanks, Muriel, but I’m really tired. I need to go home.”
“Okay, darling. Kiss me goodnight.”
Gale moved away from her painted lips to her cheek.
“Be careful on that bike.”
“I will.” Gale waved as he walked towards his motorcycle, the reverberation of Jonathan’s explicit yearning making him hard as a rock.
Chapter 2

Saturday afternoon Gale slouched over an ancient IBM computer his mother had given to him years ago. He dreaded being labeled a Young Urban Professional with the latest techno-geek gadgets and a laptop. This newspaper job was temporary. They all were. Gale had ideas in his head of what he wanted to do. This wasn’t one of them. What was all this but a pathetic waste of his time?

Over his clicking keyboard, Gale heard a different type of key in his front door and frowned in annoyance. His latest clinging druggie friend, Shari Smith, had made a copy for herself without his permission and now Gale had to deal with her in his apartment almost every day.

Not wanting to work on the column another minute, Gale hit print and reread the text with little concern for the typos and grammatical errors. He ignored the spell-check program hoping his boss, Frank Pasco would fire him.

Shari leaned around the doorframe of his bedroom. “Hi, babe,” she said.
Glimpsing sideways at her, noticing the dark glasses and catching the aroma of marijuana, Gale didn’t respond. He already knew she was stoned.
“I brought beer and a frozen pizza. You eat yet?” She took off her coat and tossed it on his bed.
“No. I haven’t eaten. Give me a beer, please.” He put the single sheet of paper down on the desk and stood, following Shari.
Still with the sunglasses on her nose, Shari dug through a plastic grocery bag she’d set on the Formica table and handed Gale a bottle.
He read the label and twisted off the cap, flinging it out of a partly opened window over the kitchen sink. It clanged on the dumpster below.
Shari peeked at him from over her sunglasses and turned on the oven.
As she puttered around the tiny kitchen, Gale inspected her while he sucked down the beer thirstily. Her hair was blonde with dark roots, growing out of a bad dye job she had done herself, pulled back in a tight ponytail, high on her head. It made her appear a bit menacing and fierce. Her worn jeans were torn at the thighs and patched on the rump. He’d met her at a bar on University Avenue and she’d clung ever since.
“Don’t you ever wash these things?” She gestured to the sink filled with dishes.
“No.”
Shari closed the gap between them and toyed with his zipper pull in an attempt at opening Gale’s pants. She tipped her sunglasses down for a better look. “You horny?”
“Not for you.”
“Why won’t you let me suck you?”
“You know the answer to that.”
She rubbed his flaccid cock through the denim. “Pretend I’m a guy.”
He nudged her back a step. “Take off your glasses. I already know you’re stoned.”
She removed the pizza from the cardboard box and put it in the oven, then tossed her sunglasses on the table. “You suck.”
“You won’t.”
“Just close your eyes and imagine I’m a big macho guy.”
He laughed into his beer bottle.
“Is that my punishment for coming here stoned all the time?” Shari asked.
“No. I told you. I’m gay. I don’t think you should do dope, but I’m not punishing you.”
“I worship the ground you walk on and will do anything for you.” She tried his zipper again.
“Stop.” He moved her back. “Don’t worship me. Don’t worship anything obsessively.”
“Like the devil?” she replied, smirking.
Gale’s skin prickled. “That was a mistake. I was fifteen and stupid.”
“I don’t think it’s stupid. I think it’s hot.” She raised Gale’s shirt up his torso.
“Shari.”
“Let me at least admire it.”
“My cock?”
“Yeah, that, but this too.” She revealed a tattoo which surrounded Gale’s navel.
Gale looked down at it with regret. Shari traced her finger over the pentagram’s points and circle.
“Stop. Come on. I don’t do that shit anymore and neither should you.” He tucked his shirt in and drank his beer.
“If you get naked, close your eyes while you’re on the bed, you can pretend I’m a man.”
“I can’t pretend.”
“Put on Jim Morrison, loud. Then you can visualize him while I give you a blowjob.” She rubbed his crotch hungrily.
It wouldn’t be the first time he had done that with a woman. Gale hadn’t been with a partner, male or female, in ages. It took years to get healthy enough to be ready for a relationship; weaning himself off drugs and shaking off the satanic impulses he’d stirred up. Being clean was hard. Stopping the impulse to do devil worship was harder.
“Let me suck it.” She stroked him.
Gale finished the beer and placed the empty on the table.
“Please?”
He left the room, yanked his jeans down and sat on the bed, taking them off. Shari followed close behind. Her smile was unnerving. His cock was soft.
She chose a CD and put it into his portable player. “This is the end…beautiful friend,” she said as she winked and turned up the volume.
Gale removed his shirt and propped himself up on the pillow. A poster of Jim Morrison topless with his arms spread wide, from the cover of The Best of The Doors was pinned to Gale’s wall. He kept his gaze riveted to it. Jim wasn’t the only attractive man’s photo Gale had in his bedroom. Several nudes and pretty boys from ads were tacked up all over for self-stimulation.
Shari shut the door and adjusted the blinds to darken the room even more than the dim, overcast Seattle autumn light. The bed shifted.
Gale closed his eyes.
Shari licked his nipple.
Instead of Jim Morrison’s presence bringing Gale pleasure, another man’s aura entered his room.
Gale wasn’t so sure this image was a good idea.
A tongue wound its way to his sternum, down his chest, around his belly button. He tried not to visualize Shari lapping at his tattoo. A rush of men’s cologne nearly paralyzed Gale.
“Ahhh…” Gale’s hips jerked off the bed and his cock sunk into a hot mouth. The music surrounded him with the same heat as a wet tongue and tight lips.
The sensation of male lips with a coarse beard kissing Gale’s mouth made it hard for Gale to breathe. His arms felt paralyzed though he wanted to move the invisible force off.
His cock thickened.
Gale…
Jonathan?
Come for me, Gale.
Overwhelmed by Jonathan’s scent, a powerful weight on his body and a tingling to his dick that was too intense to ignore, Gale began bucking, fucking that hot hole. His fists clenching the sheets under him, the music became louder as the light vanished in the room creating total blackness.
Gale…
“I’m there. I’m there.” Gale came, arching his back and feeling Jonathan’s touch across his nipples, his lips smoothing down his neck.
A woman’s voice seemed as if it was coming through a tunnel.
The sensation of confinement ceased. Gale’s arms were released. He immediately rubbed his face, trying to shake off the weird dream.
“That was some load. Jesus, Gale.”
“Huh?” Gale felt numb.
“You came so much I couldn’t swallow it all.”
Gale looked down at himself. “It’s okay.” He tugged tissues out of a box by his bed.
“Good one?”
“Huh? Yeah.”
“I’ll see if the pizza is done.”
“Okay.”
When he was alone in the room, Gale caught a dark shadow figure move out of the corner of his eye. He knew who it was. “Go away! I no longer want or need you in my life.” Gale blindly reached for the post of his headboard and gripped a beaded chain and medallion. He flipped the necklace over the cylindrical post and held the crucifix in his hand. “Protect me, Jesus. I denounce Satan. I denounce you!”
Placing the rosary over his neck, Gale got off the bed, and yanked up his jeans, shutting off the music. He held up the cross, kissing it before removing it and sweeping it in an arc across the interior of his bedroom. “You cannot have me. You must go!”
Gale…
“Jonathan?” Gale spun around. “Jonathan, if that’s your guardian spirit, help me.”
Burning heat filled Gale. He closed his eyes and pressed the cross to his heart.
“Pizza is done.”
Gale opened his eyes. “Okay.”
Shari walked away.
Replacing the cross to the spot by his bed, Gale finished dressing, knowing the mistake of his youth had opened a door to something unsavory, and those kinds of spirits didn’t leave without a fight.
Chapter 3

Sunday afternoon Gale rode his Harley to Muriel’s house in Woodway. It wasn’t unusual for him to stop by unannounced, and Muriel claimed to be psychic so Gale teased her about it.
“Darling. What a nice surprise.”
Gale smelled the booze on her from the night before. Muriel tipped the tipple nightly. “Surprise? You should know I’m coming. Aren’t you a clairvoyant?” Gale held his helmet in his hand.
“I know you need me. That much I know.”
Muriel opened the door for him, inviting him into her spacious black and white tiled foyer with the hanging Chihuly chandelier. The blown blue glass reminded Gale of a sea urchin.

“Leather chaps over soft denim jeans. Nice touch.” She caressed his hair. “You always appear to be a model off the pages for some wonderful wild biker magazine.” She grinned broadly.

Gale smirked. “Stop thinking dirty thoughts about me.” “I never stop, darling, you know that. Give me a kiss.” He leaned down and pecked her cheek, then set his helmet

beside the front door.
“What can I get you?” Muriel’s hot pink feather boa
slippers made shushing noises as she walked to the kitchen.
Her matronly figure was draped in a matching trimmed robe. “Coffee?” Gale admired the many rooms as he passed
through the hall. A stark comparison to his one bedroom
dump.
Tipping coffee into a mug at the counter, Muriel asked,
“To what do I owe this honor?” She added sugar and cream,
the way Gale liked it.
Gale sat in front of a black marble-topped free standing
island surrounded by padded black leather, high-backed bar
stools. There was a double stainless steel sink with a lofty
arched faucet at one end of the unit.
Feeling the touch of her hand again in his hair, Gale said, “Are you joining me? Or are you just going to stand there and
fondle me?”
“Well,” she asked, “is that a list of my options?” “Sit.” He gestured to the stool across the counter from
him.
Once she relaxed with a cup of coffee of her own, Gale
could tell Muriel was lost on him, watching his mouth. After
a few gulps of sweet coffee, Gale cleared his throat. “Muriel.
You’re worse than usual. Cut it out.” His skin heated up. He
knew she was visualizing him naked. She had told him how
often she tried to ‘conjure’ him up for her fantasies. “Sorry.” She snapped into focus. “You were saying?” “Tell me everything you know about Jonathan
Strickland.”
“Why do you want to know?”
Gale leaned his elbows on the counter to speak more
intimately. “I got some strange vibes from him the other
night. What’s he into?”
“Nothing unusual, my sweet. He’s the owner and
president of a local bank, is married, has two adult children, a
Cocker Spaniel, a Mercedes, and a nice home in the Bellevue
suburbs. That’s all there is.”
“That’s it?”
“Sorry, dear.” Muriel sipped her coffee. “Did you want me
to tell you he’s a closet homosexual who loves leather?” Gale smiled. “Maybe.”
Her eyes lit up in amusement. “You could tempt any man
to the ‘dark side’.”
“Don’t use that phrase.” Gale shivered.
“Sorry. The image of your tattoo is like a brand on my
brain.”
“I wish I’d never gotten it. How stupid was I?” Gale shook
his head.
“You were fifteen and dabbling into drugs and the occult.
You won’t be the first, nor the last silly little boy.” “I know. But I regret it. I feel as if the shadows won’t
leave me alone.”
Muriel waved his comment off. “You know, it’s odd
you’re asking me about him.”
Gale perked up. “About who?”
“Jonathan.”
“Why?”
“Because Jonathan asked me to ask you to phone him.” “He wants me to phone him?” Gale’s skin covered in
chills.
Muriel studied Gale’s eyes. She was obviously ‘reading’
him again. “He knows you hate your job. Why don’t you
meet with him and see what he can do for you?”
“My job? Believe me, if Jonathan wants me to call him,
it’s got nothing to do with work.”
“Gale, everyone can see how unhappy you are. You need
looking after. Jonathan is just being fatherly.”
“You’re talking such crap.” Gale noticed Muriel’s stare
intensify. “Fine. If you want, I’ll call him.” Gale shrugged. “I
don’t know what you expect him to do for me. I don’t need
anything from anyone.”
“You think you’re fooling people but you’re not.” She
smirked. “We all know what you need.”
Cock. Gale knew he didn’t have to verbalize it. She got it
instantly.
Muriel gave him that knowing look of hers. “Yes. Men’s
cock. Oh, Gale, dear, you really do have a one track mind.”
She touched her hair gently. She was wearing one of her nicer
blonde wigs. It looked very neat and tidy. “There are finer
things in life and I want to see you enjoy them all. You need
to be spoiled. You’ve had too much misery not to have it
good now.”
Gale’s expression darkened. “I’m not miserable anymore.
Don’t worry about me.”
“I do worry. You’re such a liar.” She smiled to soften the
blow.
Chapter 4

Another dull, rainy, cold Monday morning had arrived. Gale felt strange meeting with Jonathan Strickland. It felt wrong, yet he didn’t know why.

Over the years, Gale had developed an acute sense about people. It was called ‘women’s intuition’ in the female gender. He didn’t know what it was referred to in the masculine one. It was necessary to survive. Those years when he and his mother were stoned or drunk, Gale had to sense her moods and know when to avoid her. He had become an expert at reading people out of necessity. It wasn’t until he met Muriel that he realized it was a spiritual gift and not a curse. Muriel called him a sensitive, an empathic. Gale referred to himself as a ‘pathetic’.

Parking his bike in front of one of the office building in Bellevue’s downtown core, Gale removed his helmet and gazed up at the towering skyscrapers which began to compete with Seattle’s skyline.

The rain had started to fall hard again. Gale inhaled deeply and stood tall entering the building’s polished marble lobby. It smelled of Starbuck’s coffee. With his head down, he avoided the security guard’s suspicious glare and pushed the call button for the elevator.

When one of the four doors opened he waited for it to clear, then stepped in. Politely, Gale held the door open for an elderly lady to enter. She took one look at his leather-clad body and decided to wait for another one.

Gale swore angrily under his breath and let the door close. What the fuck am I? Some homicidal maniac that everyone shuns?

It was impossible to understand his life. Seventy-five percent of the population feared him and the other twentyfive percent craved sex with him. Gale could not figure it out.

The doors opened to an expanse of hallway. His boots echoed in the sterility. With his helmet tucked under his arm, he opened a door, preparing himself for a bad reaction from the receptionist. He received the opposite, perhaps she had been warned.
“Have a seat. Mr. Strickland will be right with you.”
Before Gale could make himself comfortable in chair in the lobby, Jonathan appeared.
“Follow me.”
Dying of curiosity as to why Jonathan would want this meeting, Gale was shown to an office. The door was closed behind them. With an almost regal manner, Jonathan gestured to a chair and moved behind a large imposing desk. Thinking this was all a bit too peculiar, Gale put his helmet down on the desk and sat, pulling his hair back off his face to get a clear view of the this man. Gale heard him inhaling a deep breath.
Jonathan took a moment to assess him.
Gale waited in awkward silence, getting the feeling he was being ogled yet again. Sensing the appraisal becoming sexual once more, Gale shifted in his chair in discomfort. A sensation washed over Gale from the night Shari had sucked his cock; the scent of Jonathan’s cologne and the feel of his heat on his skin. Gale closed his eyes and did some sniffing of his own, recognizing it from the spiritual encounter he had while Shari gave him a blowjob.
“I want you to work for me. You told me you’re unhappy in your job.”
Gale studied him ruthlessly. A job offer? A bank owner slash executive is offering a high-school dropout a job?
“I’m prepared to give you a more lucrative position.”
“Doing what?” Gale asked about to inquire about background checks and polygraphs. Was he supposed to be a teller? A security guard?
In his expensive three-piece Armani suit and Manolo Blahnik leather shoes, Jonathan walked very confidently to a file cabinet. With a key that was already impaled in the lock, he opened a drawer, removed an item from it, then re-secured it.
A second later, something hit Gale’s lap. As fearful as if it were a ticking bomb, Gale peered down at his leather thighs warily at a white envelope.
At Gale’s reaction of fright, Jonathan tried to hide his amusement. Gale wasn’t stupid. He could see Jonathan covering his smirk under his hand.
With an air of casualness, Jonathan leaned against his desk and crossed his arms as if to observe Gale objectively.
Leaning away from the envelope, Gale was afraid to look inside it. “What the hell is this?”
“Open it.”
Meeting this ‘gentleman’s’ eyes first, Gale very reluctantly, picked up the parcel and took a glimpse inside. It was a wad of bills. “Money? What for?”
“The job description will come later.”
The self-satisfied expression on Jonathan started to look demonic to Gale.
“I can’t take this.” Gale realized the cash was all in one hundred dollar bills. “I can’t do anything that’s worth this kind of money. If it has anything to do with drugs, you can forget it.” Gale tried to hand it back.
“No drugs. I promise you.” Avoiding it, Jonathan walked behind his desk. “Be at the hotel in downtown Seattle on Fifth and Seneca at eight Saturday morning. Don’t be late.”
Opening it once more, Gale started counting up the money. There were several thousand dollars inside. He needed the money. “Huh? Hotel?” He blinked, trying to understand Jonathan’s motive, and afraid he already did.
Jonathan gestured to his office door. “I’ll see you Saturday.”
Gale felt sick to his stomach, stood up and fumbled with the envelope clumsily.
“I suggest you put that away,” Jonathan said. “You may be dressed like a tough hood, but you’re a scared little boy in reality, aren’t you?”
It was beginning to feel like a reading. Gale knew the sensation from Muriel’s constant vibes of energy.
Before he headed to the door he checked repeatedly to see Jonathan’s expression. Gale felt disoriented by his confident smile. “I…I don’t think I’m the right man for this job.” Gale held out the envelope to him to return it, seeing it shake in his hand.
“Never underestimate yourself, Gale.” Jonathan looked stern.
Gale reluctantly stuffed the wad into his jacket pocket. “What time? When was it?”
“Saturday. Eight, sharp.”
Trying to understand making Gale’s head hurt. Gale grabbed his helmet and made for the door. He took one last look into Jonathan’s intelligent eyes and left.
~
When Gale arrived back at his apartment Shari’s rusted 80’s Chevy Malibu was parked in the lot. He grumbled and wanted his key back. Loud Black Sabbath music was blasting from out of the speakers of his living room stereo. The moment he entered the claustrophobic, dirty, one bedroom apartment, he smelled the aroma of marijuana and tobacco in the air and heard the sound of high-pitched female laughter coming from the kitchen.
Quietly closing the door behind him, Gale headed straight to his bedroom, hiding the money in his nightstand. He tossed off his leather jacket and psyched himself up to face the group, aware of how Shari’s classless girlfriends could behave, especially when they were high or drunk. They could be painfully abusive.
Gale wondered how a gay man had ended up saddled with a ‘girlfriend’. He couldn’t let her suck him off again. That was a huge mistake. How desperate was he? Very. Gale’s self-esteem was in the gutter. He knew he deserved a better friend than Shari. The fact that he was an ex-addict and she was constantly holding or using, was making his willpower suffer. He wanted to get high. Believe me. I’d do anything to forget my life.
Hating confrontation, but given no choice, Gale stood at the kitchen doorway.
Shari was about to suck on the end of a joint, when she this unnerving encounter was noticed Gale and froze. The other three women turned around to gawk at him.
Shari smashed the joint out in an ashtray quickly. “Why are you home? It’s only two.”
He shook his head in disgust at the amount of dope on the table, including crack cocaine. Gale cringed. Yearning a fix like a deal with the devil, Gale resisted the temptation to join them. He took a beer out of the refrigerator to placate his craving.
Freckled, red-headed Francine leaned across the rickety table holding a cigarette in her fingers. “God, he is so fucking gorgeous.” She whacked Shari’s arm. “Hey, Gale,” she said over the loud music. “Wanna’ foursome?” Francine’s laugh had a smoker’s hack to it, full of phlegm. She peeked over at Shari and Melinda wickedly to see their reaction.
Wanting them gone, Gale tipped his beer down his throat.
“Fuck you, Franny.” Shari pushed her shoulder roughly. “No one else touches him but me.”
Is this what goes on while I’m at work? You have to be kidding me. Irritated that his apartment was their new flop house, Gale wished they would leave.
At the obvious snub from Gale, Shari got the hint. “I think you guys have to go, sorry.”
The girls got their things together, grumbling in protest as Gale headed to his bedroom to drink his beer, shutting off the music as he went.
Within a few minutes Gale heard them saying goodbye to him from the living room. Once they had cleared out, Gale returned to the kitchen.
Shari asked, “Why ‘you home early? You get fired or something?”
Gale glared at her. “I don’t want you doing drugs around me. You know I’m a recovering addict. I can’t stand the shit being around, and if the cops come here, I’m dead.”
“I’m sorry, babe.” She bit her lip. “I won’t do it again.”
At a sensation of dizziness, Gale closed his eyes and felt anxious spinning from his core. He was losing control again and fear began working itself back into his soul like a worm. Drugs brought demons, Shari brought drugs. This had to stop.
Something passed by his peripheral vision. Gale jumped out of his skin and noticed a black framed mirror on the smudged peeling wall. “Why is that there?”
“I thought the room needed it.”
“Get rid of it. I know what it’s for.”
“I don’t snort coke on it.” She shook her head.
“Not coke!” Gale wondered if Shari was aware that mirrors like that one were doors to the shadow world. “Take it down.”
“Wow. Are you uptight or what? You sure you don’t want a hit?” She held out the roach.
He did. Badly. “No. Please. Take it away. I can’t deal with it. Shari, it took me years to get clean. Please.”
“Sorry, baby.” She drew near.
The stench of crack, marijuana and nicotine emanating from her was overwhelming. He recoiled. “No. Shari, no.” If she thought he would kiss her, she was insane.
“Want me to suck it?” She traced her finger over his zipper flap.
A lump of emotion filled his throat. How did he get here? He thought he had cleaned up everything in his life. “Can you just go? I don’t feel well.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
Though she appeared angry, she gathered her purse and jacket. Before he could ask for his key back, she left. Chapter 5

A long week past of penning stories that no one would read; Canada Geese being shot with bb guns at Greenlake, a dead seal carcass washing up at Shilshole marina, keggers at Carkeek Park, Gale had enough.

Eight on Saturday morning, Gale checked the time on the stainless steel Rolex watch he had picked up at a pawnshop. With cash in his possession, Gale wanted to buy something other than heroin and hastily spent the money on an item he did not need but had always imagined owning.

After pacing in the lobby of the hotel nervously, he decided to get a cup of coffee in the café.
Seated at a tiny round table, putting his helmet next to him, Gale contemplated on whether to remove his leather jacket or not. He pictured Shari’s face when he told her he was going into work for a few hours. Naturally suspicious, Shari studied his every move as he showered and shaved.
Gale never worked on Saturdays and when Shari showed up at seven, looking like she had partied all night and stinking of the streets, he knew once again he was in for an argument.
Shari had stopped by his apartment every night. Most times he didn’t mind. If she didn’t bring dope, Shari was okay. And she usually brought food and booze with her. So they’d eat, drink and zone out in front of the television. By nine her friends would call her and she would leave to do her druggie thing.
Gale wanted to tell her to go away and get his key back from her. This was absurd. He was intimidated by her and knew why. Judging by the addition of the black mirror, Shari dabbled in the occult just like he used to do.
He’d noticed a drawing of an inverted pentagram on the back of her hand once. The woman was fucking scary.
As his cup of coffee was set before him, Gale thanked the waitress. He stirred milk and sugar into it and sipped it checking the time again. He wasn’t used to wearing a watch, which was a purely impulse purchase, and knew he could grow neurotic about it. The one thing about Gale and money, the two never were together long. He spent what he had. It was another symptom of his addictive, compulsive behavior.
When a hand came to rest on his shoulder, Gale jumped out of his skin. By the time he turned around, it was gone. But something had hit the table. A room card-key. Gale waited, finished his coffee, then stood and tossed a few dollar bills on the table. Manically, Gale checked his watch two more times before he rode the elevator up to the third floor. Eight ten… eight eleven…he read his watch as the second hand moved smoothly around the dial.
He pushed the card in and out of a slot quickly which released the door with a green light on its brass finding. Glancing down the corridor first, Gale slipped inside, shutting the door behind him. He set the key on the dresser and inspected the room. Two double-beds, a television on a wall bracket, a dresser and a table with two chairs. Typical bland hotel furnishings. It smelled of soap or room freshener.
In the stillness of the interior, Gale suddenly realized he was hearing the shower running in the bathroom.
Cursing himself at his timing, Gale wondered if he had come up too early. He stared at the door with anxiety, yet had a feeling he shouldn’t go back out again. This was meant to be discreet, whatever it was.
Resigned to be patient and wait, Gale sat down on the bed and placed his helmet on the floor, stuffing his hands into his pockets nervously. When he looked, he noticed his reflection in the dresser mirror and tried to tame his wild mane.
When the water stopped so did his heart.
In the pause that followed, Gale held his breath in anticipation. It shocked him when Jonathan stepped into the room with only a towel wrapped around his hips. Instantly feeling he had done something wrong, Gale blushed and turned away. “I…I’m sorry.”
“I want you to shower first, please,” Jonathan stated in a commanding voice.
Gale spun around sharply. “What did you just say?”
“I said, I’d prefer it if you showered first.”
At the tone of control and force, Gale felt his anger ignite. He rose up off the bed and stood facing Jonathan, eye to eye in a challenge.
And Jonathan responded to that challenge. Unflinching, master of all, he leaned forward menacingly, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “Get in the shower, now.”
A stale-mate of wills began. Hating being manipulated and stunned at the tone of his request, Gale was about to explode and tell Jonathan to fuck off. Then he felt the weight of his new watch, thought of all the ways he’d spent the money. Who am I kidding? I knew this was about sex. Am I really surprised? Gale was upset with the attitude, not the demand. A sweet smile and sensual wink would have gone a long way.
If he obeyed, let this man take control, Gale wouldn’t have to deal with Frank Pasco any longer. He wouldn’t have to go back to work on Monday if he chose. It was an option Gale was considering strictly for financial gain and the freedom it gave him. But Gale had given into temptation before, and was terrified of losing himself on yet another addiction.
Trying not to think of what this new arrangement was really about, for he knew if he did he would be sick, Gale placed the situation in a separate compartment in his mind.
He’d never been paid to touch a man sexually in his life. He’d thought about it. During his worst black hole of dependency, when he was desperate for his next fix, Gale imagined sex for pay. In a chaotic bar, extremely drunk, a young male offered to suck Gale’s cock in the men’s room of a very loud crowded club in Belltown. The man offered Gale twenty bucks for a taste of his dick. Gale went so far as to open his jeans for the man, then backed out last minute when the realization of becoming a hooker on top of a dope addict hit him. It was then he had made a deal with the devil to get help cleaning up.
And that was the worst decision of his life. Worse than drugs.
Fuck it. I need the money. I hate my life and my job.
Defiantly Gale removed his jacket and threw it on the carpet, storming into the bathroom.
~
Realizing he was pushing this wild child beyond his level of comfort, Jonathan stared down at the black leather and picked it up to drape over a chair. The water cascaded once again into the tub as Jonathan spied his own eyes in the mirror. Is this what you want, Jonathan? asked a voice other than his own. Oh yes… he replied, smiling. This I have to have. At all cost.
Enjoy.
Thank-you.
Jonathan walked to the door of the bathroom into its steamy cloud of heat.
Once Gale had scrubbed, shampooed and rinsed, he shut the faucets and stood dripping for a moment as if trying to gather his thoughts.
Jonathan held his breath as the glass door slid open. He handed Gale a towel. Before Gale took it, Jonathan stopped short, seeing the tattoo on Gale’s washboard abdomen. What do we have here? I knew it would be there. Knew it. You told me it would be there.
Yes. I did. See? I didn’t lie to you, Jonathan.
When Jonathan was slow to hand it over, Gale grabbed the towel from Jonathan, rubbing his hair and then his body, tossing it onto the floor, looking very angry.
At his first sight of Gale nude, Jonathan’s insides went berserk. The man was fantastic; tall, lean, and so incredibly beautiful. Biting his lip on his demonic smile, Jonathan nodded in a gesture for Gale to go into the bedroom.
With his fists clenched, Gale made his way to the bed and stood still, gazing down at it. Passing behind him, Jonathan double-locked the hallway door and dropped his towel. “Get in.”
His green eyes on fire, Gale glared at Jonathan from under his long damp hair. As he folded the blankets down and climbed under, Gale sat up against the pillows watching Jonathan.
Still fussing with the room, Jonathan closed the heavy curtain and shut off the light. In a small kit he’d brought along, he located a rubber and lubrication and arranged it on the nightstand as Gale studied his every action.
Once he felt the environment suited his needs, Jonathan took a moment to lift the covers, peeling them back from Gale’s masculine form, folding them to the foot of the bed until Gale was completely revealed. Jonathan had an urge to tell him he was magnificent, but didn’t.
Instead, like an army sergeant, he ordered, “Lay face down.”
Gale took a last peek at the items on the nightstand and complied.
While Gale hid his face in the pillow, Jonathan sat on the bed and smoothed his hands over his bronze, satiny back to his perfectly rounded ass. “Have you got herpes or AIDS or anything I should be aware of?” He massaged Gale’s buttocks with his strong strokes.
Gale shook his head, no.
Having yearned this type of release his entire married life, Jonathan climbed over the bed and pushed Gale’s legs apart to maneuver in-between them, admiring the view.
Savoring this treat, he moved his finger to Gale’s rim, massaging it. Jonathan ran his lips over the silky skin of Gale’s back, licking and kissing his shoulder blades, then his neck, under his long hair.
Gale flinched involuntarily when the tip of Jonathan’s cock pushed against him, brushing along the inside of his thighs.
Jonathan licked Gale’s skin with long wet laps. He worked his way down to his perfect ass and chewed on each cheek in turn. Hearing a low moan, Jonathan smiled. Are you gay? My guess is yes. There’s thirty years separating us, but I’ll make it worth your while, pretty boy.
Jonathan parted Gale’s ass crack and darted his tongue in and out of Gale’s rim. He felt Gale’s muscles tense and wondered if Gale was excited by his actions. Curiosity got the better of Jonathan. He hiked Gale’s hips off the bed and checked.
He ran into a large erection. Gay. Perfect.
Jonathan continued to play, licking along the crack of Gale’s ass. Another low stifled moan filled the quiet room.
Using his thumb, Jonathan massaged the wetness from his saliva around Gale’s hole, assuming that Gale was gay he also imagined that he had anal sex before. Jonathan had no doubt now that Gale was indeed a homosexual. Muriel implied it. Jonathan just confirmed it. He could have asked Gale. He just didn’t care one way or the other.
While Jonathan paused to apply the rubber to his own seeping cock, Gale looked over his shoulder. grinned wickedly at him.
Intending on using the lubrication liberally, pressed the head of the tube against Gale’s hole and squeezed it. Gale jolted under him at the sensation. Jonathan set the tube aside and pushed his fingers into Gale’s gel-filled ass. Another agonizing whimper muffled by the pillows, made Jonathan smile.
He worked two fingers inside Gale, deeper, twisting to open up his tight muscles.
Gale arched his back and hissed loudly through his teeth.
Jonathan again touched Gale’s cock for reassurance. Gale’s reaction was pleasure, not pain. Gale’s cock was so stiff it poked into the bedding like an arrow. Good.
Jonathan aimed his own dick at Gale’s slick rim and eased in. He felt Gale’s ring tense and relax several times until he was able to glide all the way in.
His ‘prayers’ had been answered.
Jonathan thrust inside Gale a few times to make sure Gale had entirely let go of his clenched muscles. Gale had and Jonathan could hear his gasping breaths rise.
Pulling out abruptly, Jonathan tossed Gale to his side, spreading Gale’s knees and impaling him again. One of Gale’s legs was pinned between them. Jonathan fucked him. Fucked him like he wanted to fuck.
Seeing Gale’s dick blushing deep crimson, oozing at the Jonathan

Jonathan slit, drops of pre-cum sticking to that black pentagram tattoo, Jonathan was about to blow, edging the climax.

With more force, Jonathan pressed Gale’s leg higher, gaining better access. He bit his lip and stared at Gale’s handsome face. Are you an angel or the devil incarnate? Jonathan didn’t know, but his vision kept being drawn to that ominous tattoo.

When Gale gave his own dick a quick pull, Jonathan felt pleasure surge between his legs. Jonathan heard him whimper and started fucking harder. The pleasure of subduing this defiant rebel added to the taboo thrill of the meeting.

Seeing Gale unable to prevent giving himself pleasure, Jonathan couldn’t stop the rushing in his loins. Gale jacked like a demon on his large cock.

The moment Gale’s slit shot out milky cream across his ripped abs and chest, coating that pentagram with the devil’s seed, Jonathan watched that tight ass of his being impaled and worked Gale’s hole as hard as he could. At the sight of Gale continuing to milk hot cum in long blasts, Jonathan let go into him, moaning in an almost deep sob at the relief he felt to finally fulfill his very nature. Jonathan shivered and came with his entire body, shooting cum out like lava.

While Jonathan recovered, Gale groaned as if he were in agony, or ecstasy. Both?
Spent, luxuriating in the afterglow, Jonathan pulled out and lay across Gale’s sweating body, both of them were panting to catch their breath.
After a long moment, Gale tapped Jonathan to be released. Jonathan crawled beside Gale, facing him, pushing the long hair out of Gale’s eyes so he could see their glare of mistrust.
Jonathan gave him a smile, very satisfied with the arrangement as he removed the spent condom. The smile was not returned. Only the suspicious stare of light green eyes. ~
Wanting this incident over and done with, Gale clenched his jaw in fury at the slowness of Jonathan’s actions. Imagining himself in Jonathan’s position instead, Gale knew the intense pleasure Jonathan had over being the dominant player.
Everything in Gale wanted to fight. The money. The money. He kept reminding himself. Big shit. One fuck. Who cares?
Closing his eyes, Gale tightened his arm under the pillow. Add whore to your list of transgressions, Hansen. Addict. Devil worshiper, asshole and whore.
~
By noon Gale made an appearance at work.
“You’re late,” Linda, Frank Pasco’s assistant sounded like a frog when she croaked the two words at him.
Placing his helmet on his desk, Gale ignored her, taking off his jacket.
“Mr. Pasco wants to see you in his office, now.” She sneered.
Not giving her the satisfaction of an irritated reply, Gale ran his hand back through his hair and prepared himself for the rebuking.
Frank was getting off the phone when Gale knocked and opened the door. He waved him in.
Gale moved out the chair and sat down.
“Well?” Frank waited impatiently.
“Well what?”
“Why are you late?”
“Overslept.”
“You realize how close you are to losing this job?” Frank pushed a few papers around his desk.
Gale shrugged, feigning innocence. “Sorry.”
“What are you working on today?”
“Nothing,” Gale said without a hint of any emotion. “What should I be working on?”
Frank stood up. “I asked you to find something news worthy. Can’t you even find a stupid little story on your own?”
“I tried. Do you want a fiction story? I’m good at those.”
In a blast of frustration, Frank replied, “I said I wanted something by this morning. I want you to find a topic that’s appropriate for an article for the paper. It isn’t rocket science. Just do it. Do you hear me?”
Sick of trying to fit into a job that was totally unsuitable, Gale rose from the chair, patting another five hundred dollars in his back pocket from his romp in bed. “I do hear you. Now, you listen to me.”
Frank’s face went crimson.
“I quit. You can take your newspaper and shove it up your ass.”
Before Frank could respond, Gale slammed the door shut, collected his helmet and leather jacket and left.
~
The phone woke Gale out of a deep sleep. He tried to read his watch as he picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Meet me down the street in ten minutes.”
“What?” Still fuzzy headed from a deep sleep, Gale tried to focus on the information.
“You heard me,” came the curt reply.
Half conscious, Gale listened to the telephone disconnecting, then sat up, rubbing his face.
“Who was that?” Shari moaned, looking like she was either still stoned or suffering from withdrawals.
Gale didn’t even know she was in bed with him, and had no idea when she had shown up. He got up and put on his jeans. “No one.”
“Where are you going?” she asked suspiciously.
“Out.” Trying to think straight, Gale left the room.
“Gale? Are you seeing another woman?” she called after him, “She’s dead if you are!”
Shaking his head as he put his leather jacket on over his naked chest and stepped into his boots, Gale muttered under his breath, “I’m gay, you moron.” And why the hell are you always here? Now you’re in my bed? This has got to stop. Go away!
Inhaling the cool, rainy air outside the filthy-drug-ridden flophouse he lived in in the University District, Gale walked down the block to the corner, craving a joint so much he was shaking. A towering streetlight threw its halo around him. It was deathly quiet in the damp mist.
The air had a moldy smell, like mushroom spores. He yawned and scrubbed his rough jaw wearily. What did Jonathan want? He just fucked him that morning. How was this going to work? An on-call hooker?
In the surreal silence, a black Mercedes appeared from the gloom and the passenger’s side door opened. Gale climbed in and sat heavily in the leather seat.
As he drove Jonathan never spoke a word. Not up to conversation at the moment either, Gale sat mute as he assumed they were headed to the nearest hotel.
The streets grew more desolate as they drove towards Sandpoint. Gale took a quick glimpse at Jonathan’s profile, noticing his anger and tight lips. Gale sighed and turned away.
It surprised Gale when they drove into the park adjacent to the military base, pulled into a deserted lot and stopped.
In the darkness, children’s swings hovered over the ground as if in anticipation of being pushed. Gale turned his knees toward Jonathan. He suddenly felt less annoyed to act as a sympathetic ear. Did Jonathan just need to talk?
The engine stilled and the silence lay heavy between them. In the awkward pause Gale opened his mouth to ask Jonathan if he was okay, when Jonathan’s voice sliced the quiet. “Get into the back seat.”
Gale bit his lip with his reluctance. Jonathan gave an insistent nod. “Go.”
He hated fucking in cars. Throwing open the door, he got out, pushed the seat forward, climbed into the back, then reached to close the door. Sinking deeper into a furious mood, Gale sat back with his hands in his lap and waited impatiently for Jonathan to join him. Jonathan had twisted around to face him, but showed no sign of getting out.
Wondering what his game was, Gale watched Jonathan carefully in the blurring dimness of the car’s interior, which was lit only by a tall spotlight off in the distance. What did this man think calling him out here like this?
Gale folded his arms tightly. He hated games.
“I want you to do it to yourself.”
A little surprised at the obscene request, Gale’s mouth grew slack, then he snorted in a sarcastic laugh. “You called me out here just to watch me jerk—”
The car reverberated from the sound of Jonathan’s fist slamming into the console.
Not expecting that reaction, Gale felt his heart jump in surprise.
Jonathan’s eyes narrowed as if he were judging his hold over him. Gale had a feeling it was extremely important Jonathan acquire that power. Perhaps the man was powerless with everyone else in his life. Gale wouldn’t know. All he knew was Jonathan was the owner of a local bank and rich. That, and the tidbits of info Muriel had given him, was it. How a rich banker could be powerless was beyond Gale.
It took him a moment to recover from the shock of the suddenness of the action. Gale had no fear of Jonathan, for he assumed he was much more capable of violence than Jonathan was.
Not wanting it to be easy, this control game, Gale ground his jaw and stared into Jonathan’s eyes, challenging.
Jonathan’s jaw twitched in the lamp’s glow.
Fuck you. Fuck you. Gale growled, but the amount of money he had been paid, spent, and now depended on, ruled his actions.
With angry violence, Gale tore open his jeans and tugged them down his thighs, wearing nothing underneath them or his jacket. When both zippers parted, Gale heard Jonathan inhale sharply. A hiss of delight between clenched teeth.
Fighting his rage, Gale leaned his head back against the leather upholstery and closed his eyes. He inhaled a few times to calm himself, then slowly moved his right hand to hold his cock.
~
At that erotic sight, Jonathan’s mouth started to water and his fury subsided.
This power-play was no accident. Jonathan was very deliberate in his dominance. He knew it was a struggle for Gale to obey him. That was the satisfaction; taming this wild animal. Controlling him. And then having him as a play toy.
When Jonathan stopped analyzing his thoughts enough to actually watch Gale, his dick hardened at the sight. He could see Gale trying to detach himself from the surroundings, rubbing his cheek against the soft seat. His body had relaxed, his legs released to a comfortable straddle position. With his left hand Gale caressed his smooth chest. With his right he was working himself until he was large and hard.
Overwhelmed by the sight, Jonathan’s mind went blank. Like a tennis match, back and forth, he shifted his focus from that hand to that exquisite face filling with emotion, half in shadow. Soon Gale’s lips opened to his breathy gasps, his long hair covered over his naked shoulders as his jacket fell open around him. The motion of Gale’s right hand sent a chill across Jonathan’s length. He suddenly wished he’d brought his camcorder with him to capture this. It took everything Jonathan possessed not to climb into the back seat and take this beauty his own way.
When it hit him, Gale grunted and tensed his entire body. At the intensity of Gale’s climax, Jonathan almost came in his pants. He’d never witnessed anything like it. Gale was so breathtakingly handsome. And his face in orgasm? It had been pressed into the pillows the last time they were together. This time he was able to see it in all its glory.
Gale sat motionless, his eyes closed, creamy spatter coated his chest. Slowly, Gale opened his eyelids.
Jonathan handed him a handkerchief to clean himself up. Gale took it tiredly and dabbed at the spill.
Jonathan leaned over to open the front passenger’s door again. Appearing exhausted, Gale climbed out and started to fasten his jeans.
“No, leave them,” Jonathan said quickly.
Gale flopped back down in the front seat.
Jonathan undid his own trousers while he stared at Gale’s erection as it still poked from out of his open zipper. Raising Gale’s hand from his lap, he placed it on his cock. “Now it’s my turn.” Jonathan checked the area quickly for cars. It was isolated.
Gale groaned in exhaustion, then sat up and got a firmer grip on Jonathan’s erection.
Jonathan watched Gale fisting his stiff dick, glanced at Gale’s profile and the semi-erect cock exposed from his jeans. Jonathan reached to touch Gale’s cock, pushing Gale’s jacket wider to expose that tattoo. Yes, you are the devil. Jonathan’s cock thickened. Tempting me with your charms.
Using his palm, Jonathan massaged Gale’s genitals, rolling Gale’s cock over his balls, feeling the loose skin as Gale became soft. “Faster,” Jonathan said. Gale quickened his pace on Jonathan’s dick.
Tugging the head of Gale’s cock to stretch out the soft length, staring at its size and the sack underneath, Jonathan came, using the same hanky to catch the spunk.
Gale milked Jonathan’s cock a few times, possibly just being polite, for Jonathan had yet to feel any affection from him. Gale then sat back.
Jonathan fixed himself up, tucked in his shirt and started the car. “I said leave them open,” he warned again when Gale reached for his own zipper.
Gale sat back with a sigh, rubbing his forehead.
On the drive back to Gale’s apartment, Jonathan fondled Gale’s limp cock contentedly.
As stealthily as he arrived, Jonathan parked a block away from Gale’s apartment, giving the area a once over. He shut the engine and turned in the seat to face him. Jonathan reached his hand into Gale’s open pants to gather all his genitals and drew close to say, “You are to obey me without question, do you understand?” In a soothing gesture, Jonathan stroked Gale’s balls, pushing his soft cock down against them.
Gale moaned at the caress.
“I asked you a question.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, to whatever you said.” Gale closed his eyes and stretching out his long legs.
“I want you to say, Yes, I understand, sir.”
Gale laughed, then tensed up when Jonathan tightened his grip around his balls. “Ouch. Watch it.”
“Say it.”
Gale ground his teeth. “Yes, I understand, sir.”
Jonathan assumed as the affirmation was being said, Gale was thinking, Fuck you. Fuck you. It made Jonathan smile.
Getting what he wanted, Jonathan released his tight grip and stroked him again. “I know you left your job at The Times today.”
In shock, Gale’s jaw hung open.
Jonathan had many spies and resources. He knew everything this man did.
Removing his hand from Gale’s jeans, Jonathan gave him an envelope. Gale obviously recognized the familiar bank roll. He took it and looked inside.
Jonathan had given him another five hundred dollars. He dug his fingers through Gale’s hair and felt the silky thickness of it, like a woman’s, full and wavy. Petting him, enjoying him, Jonathan savored Gale, not knowing when he would see him again. After staring at Gale’s body, he caught those light eyes, glistening in the dimness, those lush pouting lips seemingly gloss covered.
Jonathan heard Gale whimper in longing.
His victory nearing, Jonathan sensed this man coming very close to surrendering. When Gale leaned for a kiss, Jonathan denied it, but delighted in Gale’s youth and the fiery passion of a twenty-three year old desiring him.
As Jonathan moved away, Gale kept attempting to give him a kiss on the lips. Jonathan brushed his hand over that rehardened cock protruding out of Gale’s jeans.
Gale was slow to calm himself down.
Jonathan knew Gale wanted to hear something reassuring from him. Words. Words to tell him he was all right. He was a good boy.
Smiling in victory, Jonathan petted Gale’s hair back from his face. He knew what Gale wanted and could have easily spoken lines of comfort. Jonathan was well aware he was buying Gale with large amounts of money. Lust from Gale Jonathan had prepared himself for. What he wasn’t prepared for was the affection Gale began to show for him. That Jonathan had not bargained for.
Enjoying Gale’s fantastic body, Jonathan ran his hand over Gale’s cock one more time, trying to commit it to memory so when he wasn’t near him he could recall it.
A small sound of yearning escaped Gale’s throat.
Loving the implications of that tiny noise, Jonathan caressed Gale’s rough jaw, then nodded for him to get out. ~
Through his exhaustion, Gale tried unsuccessfully to feel bitter and angry. At the lovely stroking, he lowered his head and stared at his hard cock as it stuck out of his open pants. He focused on the soothing caresses, then the cash, trying to make sense of his own emotions. Gale turned to see into Jonathan’s eyes.
“Time to go.” Jonathan nudged him.
Unwilling to part from him, when only a moment ago he would have fled and never returned, Gale felt clumsy and lost. After an awkward attempt at fastening his pants over a stiff dick failed, Gale tried to close his jacket and dropped the envelope carelessly to the car floor.
Jonathan handed it back to him and gave Gale a wry grin.
And snatching that snippet of affection, hoping it was sincere, Gale warily returned the smile. He climbed out of the car and tucked himself into his pants. He stood in the damp drizzle with a packet of money in his hand as the car drove away.
The minute Gale walked into the apartment, Shari was waiting, furious. She was drinking a beer and had obviously smoked a joint down to the roach. He smelled it the minute he walked in.
Dragging his feet, Gale was exhausted and wondered how this woman found herself staying at his place more and more. He didn’t recall discussing allowing her to move in.
Her eyes were glazed and red as she raised the beer to her lips. She glared at him, dressed in one of his oversized, soft tshirts. Her hair was pulled back from her face making her appear as sharp and severe as a prison warden.
Hardly giving Shari a glance, Gale didn’t want a battle. He just wanted to sleep. He walked by her to his bedroom.
“Where the fuck were you?”
Dropping his jacket on the bed, Gale undressed and went to relieve himself.
She followed him and watched him pee. “I asked you where the fuck you were.”
Trying to give her his cold shoulder, Gale finished and washed his hands and face. “I don’t remember giving you the job of mother.”
“Did she suck you too?”
Like lightning, Gale grabbed her wrists and yanked them over her head. The beer bottle dropped and spilled. As he crushed her against the wall he was breathing fire. “Fuck you! What the fuck do you want from me? Leave me the fuck alone. Just get out. Get out of my goddamn life!”
At the outburst, she stared at him closely. Gale could tell she wasn’t afraid, just curious.
His performance hadn’t intimidated her. Gale knew better than that. Shari had scarier beings than him to protect her. Gale was convinced she had sold her soul for the things she wanted. Drugs and protection. Satan had given Shari both.
Gale released her and turned away to climb under the covers. He curled up in the fetal position. Against his wishes, Shari closed the light and crawled in with him, cuddling him from behind.
Gale tried his best not to cry. That hideous shadow figure was back in the room. Was it at Shari’s beck and call? It felt as if a hand was tightening around his throat, choking him suddenly.
Shari said, “I’m sorry, baby. I don’t want to lose you.”
Trying to breathe, Gale flailed to get the shadow’s grip away from his neck. He clasped the crucifix that hung on his bedpost and envisioned a white light surrounding him. The pressure to his neck vanished, but the woman encouraging the wicked presence remained. “Are you doing this to me?” He huffed air, feeling terrified.
“Doing what?”
Wishing he could vanish from the world, Gale gripped the cross to his chest, burrowed deeper into the pillows and thought of Jonathan. Could Jonathan love him? Help him? Chapter 6
The next morning after a fitful sleep, Gale stood under the shower and tried to revive himself.
Shari entered the bathroom, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “There’s a phone call for you.”
Gale moaned and grabbed a towel. With it wrapped around his hips, he took the cordless from Shari. She watched him warily.
Gale could see the ID read, ‘blocked call’. “Hello?”
“I need you to come with me.”
“Where?” Gale turned his back to Shari and walked a few feet away from her.
“I can’t talk now.”
Gale heard Jonathan cup the phone, then Jonathan said to Gale in a curt tone, “Yes, right. You know the business I want to discuss. No, it can’t wait.”
Listening in amazement to a one-sided conversation, Gale felt as if he had his own set of problems. “What do you want me to do?” he whispered, watching Shari who tried to stay within hearing range.
“Friday night at eight. I’ll send a car. No, no. Never mind, I’ll just come and get you myself. We will settle this home loan mess ourselves. First I need your legal advice.”
Gale mumbling into the receiver, “Find a cheaper hooker.” He was surprised when Jonathan understood.
“You’re right.” Jonathan continued the charade. “Eight it is, then. Good, don’t keep me waiting. Good-bye.”
Gale hung up the phone. When he met a set of suspicious ones, he knew Shari was expecting an explanation. Disregarding her, Gale went to get dressed.
As he walked away without a word, she threw up her hands in frustration. “All right. What’s going on?” She leaned against the doorway and crossed her arms. “Are you in trouble?”
Gale stepped into his leather pants. “No. Leave me alone.”
“Where did you get this? Did you steal it?” She waved the money he had stashed in his night table.
“What are you doing with that? Stop nosing through my shit.”
“Where did you steal it from?”
“I didn’t steal it. I earned it.” He tried to grab it from her.
“Doing what?” She stuck it in her shirt. “What’s with all the mystery phone calls and the meetings in the night? Who was this guy on the phone right now?”
Gale exhaled loudly and shook his head so his wet hair was away from his eyes. “No one. Look, I don’t need to answer to you.” He wanted to add, Leave me alone.
“Where are you going now?” she asked in anger.
“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.” Gale zipped his leather jeans and was about to tell her to he did not invite her to live there, and that they were not in a relationship, when he froze.
His bedroom now had three new wall mirrors. ‘Portholes’ to the other side. A candle holder with one yellow, one red, one green and one black candle was sitting on his dresser. He knew each color indicated your carnal wish from the devil. Sell your soul, get each of your wishes granted. “Oh no. Shari, I told you, no more mirrors. And get rid of that candle stick.”
“Why? I think they add a nice touch.”
“Do you think I’m stupid?”
“I never said you were.”
Through the corner of his eye, in a mirror that should have been reflecting Shari’s profile, Gale caught a demonic shadow figure. When he spun to see it, it vanished, but he knew Shari had called upon ‘help’ to control him. Losing the courage to tell her not to be there when he returned, Gale felt a need to get out of the room, away from her and away from the demonic creatures she constantly rallied.
Acting like a weak-willed wimp, he left Shari in his University District hovel. He had to ask her to pack her shit and get out sooner or later. He was feeling sick from the negative forces again and no amount of praying would rid them. Only getting rid of Shari would. But he needed an exorcist to do that. Forcing Shari out himself would be lethal. He already had scratches on his throat from being strangled by them.
Yearning answers to questions about his relationship with Jonathan, Gale rode his bike through traffic more carelessly than usual. His long hair whipped him from under his helmet’s enamel covering and his body was covered in black leather. He stayed in the speed lane of I-5 and headed north out of the city limits.
The air smelled of the sea from the Puget Sound after an evening shower. The late September sky was overcast, the wind was cold. Veering off the exit ramp, Gale drove away from the highway and headed to the beautiful homes that overlooked the Puget Sound and ferryboats.
He rode his bike onto a gravel lane surrounded by onehundred foot tall Douglas Firs and shut off the noise of his engine.
~
With the heavy motor of the Harley echoing in the wind from a mile away, Muriel opened the front door. Waiting for him, she watched Gale remove his helmet and shake out his long hair. With a casualness that set her teeth on edge, she gawked as he tucked the helmet under his arm and unsnapped the top snap of his leather jacket. He then offered her a smile and made his way to her. She could see the mixed blood in him. A Native American father and a white mother. Delicious. Poor thing. Do you even know your real heritage? I doubt it. Patty wouldn’t tell you the truth, would she? Look in the mirror, dear. You look nothing like Melvin.
Muriel pushed wide the door and caught her breath at how elegant Gale’s movements were. So unconsciously graceful, he had no idea his affect on people. Or does he? Silly me. Of course he knows. Look at that strut. My oh my. Sexy man.
He appeared preoccupied, in a dull dream as he passed through her halls and eyed all her paintings and furnishings. Muriel instructed her maid, Martha, “Take Gale’s helmet, dear, then how about you make us both tea and a snack?” “Yes, ma’am.”
Holding Gale’s hand, Muriel led him to her favorite sitting room, the one that overlooked the Sound.
As he entered, he ducked under a hanging spider plant and gazed out at her gardens. Everything was serene, though soaking from the wet fall.
Relaxing on a padded floral loveseat, she set her mouth in a wide smile, loving when he dropped in unexpectedly. She hoped he felt he could at any time. She had impressed it upon him ruthlessly. Gale was to make himself at home. Spend the night if he desired it. If he was hungry he was to come and have dinner with her. She had hoped she had made it all crystal clear.
With long sensual fingers, Gale opened his leather jacket and took it off, wrapping it around the back of a matching white wrought iron chair, then he turned it around and straddled it, leaning his chin on top of his hands, on top of the leather. “Hello, Muriel.” He smiled impishly, like a little boy.
“Hello, my darling.” She returned the gaze. His denim shirt was faded to a sky blue and tucked loosely into his back leather pants. “Are you hungry?”
He shrugged.
She knew he was.
“Muriel?” he began softly.
Dreamily, she tilted her head, unable to wipe the smile off her face. He was always more beautiful in person than she remembered. There was something about the living breathing Gale that a memory or photo could never quite capture.
Very quietly he asked, “Do you know anything about my new ‘job’?”
“Oh? Have you left the paper?”
At her answer, Gale scrutinized her. “Then you don’t know.”
Trying to read passed his words, Muriel stared into his green eyes. “What’s going on? Did you get fired?”
Gale stood and walked to the window to gaze out at the distant Olympic Mountain range. The maid came in with a tray of tea and sandwiches.
Waiting until Martha had left, Muriel poured Gale a cup of tea, mixing milk and sugar into it. “Gale, dear, is there something you need to talk to me about?”
His back towards her, staring out of the windows, she could see his ribcage expand with his sigh. “I hated the job at the paper. You knew that.”
A ferryboat coming in from Kingston was on the horizon. Muriel heard it blast its long basso horn. “What are you doing for money?”
“I’ve a little. I’ll get by.”
When Gale turned around she lifted the cup to him. Heaving the heavy chair up and around with one arm, he sat correctly, taking the teacup from her outstretched hand.
He always looked like a bull in a china shop in her home, big and masculine, juxtaposed against all her dainty crystal.
“Muriel with her prim English teatime.” Gale sipped the brew and wrinkled his nose in distaste.
“Do you want a beer?” she asked, the elegant mood lost on his reaction.
“I wouldn’t mind one,” he replied sheepishly.
“Then why don’t you say so. Letting me pour you a cup and all. I’ll get you one.” In a huff, she left the room to find Martha. Muriel knew her yearning for Gale was the reason she grew impatient. By the time she returned with his beer she found him standing at the window again. His hands were resting on his back pockets, his back curved slightly, his pelvis thrust forward. He was tensing his jaw at his thoughts, the square lines twitching like an electric pulse.
Her desire for him grew. Bad Muriel. She was older than his mother. Forty. This man was only twenty-three. Yet. If she didn’t know the whole tale, know it all so well, she’d try and tempt him. Weren’t cougars all the rage lately?
A day didn’t pass that she didn’t dream of having Gale. Dreams of him were not new to her. She’d had them for the better part of a decade. Some surrogate aunt she turned out to be. Lusting after the son of a bastard. Yes, Melvin married Patty, but she was already pregnant from another highschool boy. I don’t think you even know the truth. And it’s better you don’t. Shhh. Secrets.
What is it about you that drives me insane, Gale, dear? She knew. Oh yes, she knew. Beauty without conceit. Beauty and modesty. She almost wished he were like his father (either his natural-teenage father or his mother’s husband), they were both cocky and proud. Then she wouldn’t care about Gale, fear for him, protect him like a mother hen. No. He was gentle and kind. Too fragile for those tough guy looks of his. That was his façade. As if it were a mask, Gale hid behind the leather. She knew it was the past behavior of his mother Patty that had caused it. Gale was a psychic sensitive, empathic, and couldn’t harden himself against the pain. But that gift brought tragedy to him.
Hearing her enter, Gale turned to her slowly. Muriel knew he read the yearning in her eyes. It wasn’t a secret she craved his flesh.
Turning his face away as if trying to respecting her feelings, it was evident Gale didn’t want to read her like an opened book. It was impolite. Once he thought he’d given her enough time to mask over her emotions he asked, “Is that my beer?”
It jolted her badly. She handed him a frosted mug, sitting down to lift her teacup, looking away, ashamed of herself once more for the desire.
He raised it to his lips, smiling at her. It was an old game. After she had settled herself, Muriel regained her train of thought from before. “Gale, listen to me. I want you to know you can come to me for anything. Money, a room, advice. Don’t you dare hesitate.”
“My guardian angel.” He put down his beer, walked around to her chair, kissed the top of her head, and whispered into her ear, “Do I get to eat or what?”
She hugged his cheek to her own and laughed. “Yes, you silly boy.”
“Good. I’m starved.”
~
Deep in thought from the intense spiritual conversation with Muriel, Gale parked the motorbike in front of his apartment and sprinted up the front walkway with a light bound. He located his key and opened the door.
When he entered, a vase was singing through the air at him. Gale ducked and it smashed into the door behind him.
Shari re-armed as he crouched down. “You fucking slut!” She sent an ashtray flying at him. “I hate you!”
Avoiding another flying object, Gale jumped to the side and the ashtray hit the wall. “Shari!” Using his helmet as a shield he said, “Calm down.”
Going wild, like some kind of mental patient, Shari overturned a ratty old chair and searched for something else to throw.
Totally unprepared for her aggression, Gale straightened up and stared at her in amazement. When she couldn’t find anything suitable to fling at him, Shari rushed Gale and started pounding her fists into him. One punch hit Gale’s cheek before he could get her under control.
“Where’d you get the money? Where’d you get the money?” She spat as she screamed, making him flinch and wipe his face. “You earned it, you said. Earned it! You fucking two-timing whore.” She jammed her knee into his groin and Gale doubled over, cringing in agony.
“I curse you to hell. You are now my sworn enemy!” Shari pointed to the floor. “Satan’s curse on you to be damned in hell forever!”
Gale groaned and watched her storm out, slamming the door before he collapsed to the floor, trying to recover.
It was as if he couldn’t breathe. To add to the confusion, the phone started ringing. Trying to get the intense ache in his nuts to subside, Gale rubbed his crotch and took a few deep breaths.
He literally had to crawl across the floor to the telephone receiver, only to feel his sore cheek when it touched. “Ow. Hello?” he whined.
“Why did it take you so long to answer? I was about to hang up,” Jonathan said angrily.
Like an echo of a scream, Gale still felt pain reverberating through his crotch, so he lay back on the floor again to pray it passed.
“Are you there? I’m on my way. Have you packed? Gale, for Christ’s sake.”
Trying to feel normal again, Gale attempted to straighten his back. “Packed?” Gale gulped air. “It’s Tuesday. Didn’t you say Friday night?” Gale closed his eyes and massaged his nuts as the agony was slow to subside.
“No. Now. Gale?” Jonathan growled in fury. “Are you there?”
“Not quite,” Gale replied, still recuperating.
“Be ready.”
Gale heard the line disconnect. He put the phone down and continued to massage his sore testicles until he was more recovered. He stood with care and headed to his bedroom to pack a bag. “I’m so losing my mind.” He felt confused. “It is Tuesday isn’t it? Did I lose three days somewhere?” ~
The Mercedes was waiting at the end of the street. The door opened like a great claw to receive him. Gale tossed his small suitcase in the back seat and let out a deep sigh, trying to relax. “Gee, Friday sure got here early,” Gale said sarcastically.
Ignoring the comment, Jonathan looked over at him. “I’ve booked us two adjoining rooms in Cannon Beach, Oregon. I didn’t give your real name. I’ve booked you under the name of Mark Richfield.” He peeked over to see if it was sinking in. “Have you got that?”
“Yes. I understand, sir,” Gale replied in a pseudo-military voice. He wondered how much of this he could take. Yeah, sure, Jonathan. I look like the cologne model. Duh. You moron. Gale wondered if Jonathan had Mark Richfield fantasies. Who didn’t?
Jonathan ran his hand along Gale’s thigh. He exhaled audibly. “Good boy.” He patted his leg.
Gale rolled his eyes at the absurdity and stared out of the window as they drove south on Interstate 5. The two of them never spoke another word on the long four hour drive. Jonathan listened to a right-wing talk show on the radio that revolted Gale. But he kept his lefty views to himself. ~
On arrival Jonathan took charge in his usual assertive way and Gale felt like one of the pieces of luggage he stood watch over. They were shown to their rooms by an employee who was studying Gale curiously.
No, I’m not The Mark Richfield! Jesus, Jonathan, why not just say I’m George Clooney?
Once he was shown to his private room, Gale lingered in the middle of the large suite alone. A fireplace, unlit, was recessed into the wall. The stark white bathroom had an enormous bathtub with jets for a whirlpool and a separate room just for the toilet. At the far end of the suite was a double patio door with a view of the ocean and ‘haystack’like rocks. A desk and chair, a sofa and coffee table, CD player, television, computer hook-up, all the comforts of home. Only not Gale’s home. Some upper Lake Washington home. “Bet this place set you back, Jonathan ole’ boy.”
It was almost seven-thirty and the room was dark but for one light the hotel clerk had lit when Gale entered the room. It was a single bulb at the doorway entrance.
The noise of a knob jiggling echoed in the gloom. Gale noticed movement on the adjoining wall to Jonathan’s suite. A door opened.
Jonathan stalked Gale. Coming closer, Jonathan raised his hand to caress Gale’s jaw, digging his fingers through his hair. At the touch, Gale closed his eyes and tilted his face away. I’m nothing but lion’s prey, helpless and hopeless.
Obviously not perceptive to his sexual partner’s mood, Jonathan surrounded Gale in his arms and drew him close to feel Gale’s entire length against him, then he started kissing Gale’s neck, biting and sucking at the skin there like a vampire.
Stiff as a soldier, Gale tried to ignore it, to pretend he was a stupid plastic toy. That’s what the man wants, isn’t it? Shut up and obey? I don’t shut up and obey anyone. Who the hell does this man think he is?
Jonathan pawed at Gale relentlessly, groping Gale’s cock, pinching Gale’s nipples through his shirt.
Gale wondered if Jonathan was upset or relieved he wasn’t responding. At one point Jonathan grabbed his cheek roughly to turn Gale towards him. Gale grimaced in pain.
With Jonathan forcing him to make eye contact, Gale was in agony from the squeezing of Jonathan’s hand on his bruised face. Unable to take the pressure, Gale jerked back sharply at one point.
Probably thinking Gale was being obstinate again, Jonathan grew furious with him. He pushed Gale back roughly and turned on the light.
It appeared he was about to scold him, when Jonathan stopped moving, staring at the swollen bruise on Gale’s face.
Gee, just noticed it? I’ve been with you for nearly four hours, Mr. Strickland.
“Come here.” Jonathan touched Gale’s shoulder and took him closer to the lamp to inspect it. “When the hell did you get that?”
“What do you care?” Gale lowered his head.
“Gale.” Jonathan asked, “Why are you behaving this way?”
Gale couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He stared at Jonathan dumbfounded. “Why am I behaving this way? Did you seriously just ask me that?”
Letting a long exhale escape his lungs, Jonathan pointed to the bed for Gale to sit down.
Gale did, shaking his head at the folly. As if giving Gale a chance to calm down, Jonathan took off his tie and opened his collar button. With the gentleness of a mother, he stroked Gale’s hair softly. “Talk to me, Gale.”
The anguish inside sought to overwhelm him as tears stung his eyes. Reluctantly, he raised his wet eyelashes to meet with Jonathan’s gray gaze. “Do you think I enjoy being a slave? I don’t know what the hell’s going on in my life. What the heck am I? I’m a fucking mistress. I think I’m losing my mind.”
With a firm hand, Jonathan persuaded Gale back farther on the bed, sitting with him, kicking off his shoes. “You’re not losing your mind.”
“Yes. I am. You don’t know me at all. Do you think I do this for a living?”
“No. Don’t be a fool. You weren’t doing this when I met you. Use your head, Gale. What do you want? More money?” Jonathan took out his wallet and showered Gale with one hundred dollar bills.
Sickened by the gesture, Gale turned his face away.
Jonathan moved closer to him, squeezing his thigh. “Look, I thought you may enjoy the trip.”
Choking in disbelief, Gale faced him abruptly. “Did you ask me?” Gale pointed a finger into his own chest. “Did you ask me?” He waited for a reply from Jonathan and didn’t receive one. “No. Of course not. I was to obey. Without question. Right? Well, this is what I got for obeying.” He pointed to his black and blue face. “My friend attacked me. Did you tell her about us? How did she find out?” Gale was developing a headache. “Look, forget about it. I’m very tired and I’m not thinking straight.” He tried to hide under his long hair.
Jonathan tugged on Gale’s leather jacket, helping him remove it, then his shirt. Nudging Gale to lie down on his front, Jonathan massaged his shoulders to calm and soothe him.
“All right, Gale. I’ll level with you.”
Wanting to see his face when he spoke, Gale stopped Jonathan’s massage and rolled on his side to face him, mirroring his posture.
As if gathering his thoughts, Jonathan pushed the hair back from Gale’s eyes. “The first minute I saw you at Muriel’s I had to have you. I know I bought you off. I found out everything I could about you and your job, and then I bribed you into my bed. The chance I’m taking to be with you is enormous. Do you have any idea what this can do to my career?”
Gale didn’t react so Jonathan continued.
“I’m sick of depriving myself, Gale. I’ve been stuck in a loveless marriage for twenty-five years. I had sex twice with my wife. She repulses me, to say the least. She hated doing it the two times we did to conceive our two ungrateful children.”
“Are you fucking your son?”
Jonathan reacted violently and smacked Gale’s bruised cheek. In agony, Gale grabbed it and the tears flowed down his face from the sting.
“I have no idea why that had to come out of your mouth.”
Gale glared at him. “Oh, sweetie,” Gale laughed mockingly, “you have no idea all there is to know about your mysterious young lover.”
When Jonathan spotted the tears streaming down Gale’s face he looked as if he felt remorse. Was guilt surfacing where shock had been? Gale couldn’t even speculate. He didn’t know Jonathan well enough.
Jonathan tried to touch him, but Gale flinched away.
“Please forgive me, Gale. I never should have struck you.”
“Forget it. I get off on pain.”
“Come here. That’s an order.”
Hesitating, Gale glanced up to see Jonathan’s sly smile and his open arms. Lowering his hand from his face, Gale allowed Jonathan to cuddle him to his chest. As if he were protecting him, Jonathan squeezed him close and kissed his hair. Needing that comfort like air, Gale sighed and closed his eyes, listening to Jonathan’s heart beating.
“I know I’m putting you through a very trying time,” Jonathan said.
“No, not really. I’m always going through something.”
“What about your girlfriend?” Jonathan asked.
“She’s not my girlfriend. I’m gay if you haven’t already figured it out. She was a pest you may have helped me get rid of.”
“Good. I hate the idea of anyone else touching you. When she answered the phone I thought of hanging up. Instead I decided on doing what he could to sabotage any relationship you may have had with her.” Jonathan paused as if waiting for Gale’s reaction.
Gale said nothing, but the possessiveness Jonathan was showing was nearly as scary as Shari’s. What if Shari and I loved one another? Jonathan would have destroyed that love.
“I want exclusive rights to you.” Jonathan caressed Gale’s arm. “I asked for you over the phone and when she said you were out, I told her, ‘Tell Gale he left his briefs in my bed.’”
Gale shivered at Shari’s reaction to that comment. He could imagine her casting circles. Well, I have a bruise on my face and sore nuts to prove how pissed off she was.
“She started shouting, ‘Who is this? Who is this?’” Jonathan gloated. “Before I hung up I said, ‘The lover that pays.’” He squeezed Gale closer.
Gale’s breath caught in his throat. Jonathan had no idea who he was dealing with when it came to Shari.
“I’m very glad you don’t care about her, Gale. I want you to be free to come and go without problems. With my hectic schedule I might just have to call you at a moment’s notice.”
“You already are doing that. You do realize you said Friday at eight, and it’s only Tuesday.”
“I’ll see you when I can. Don’t ask questions.”
“God forbid!” Gale tried to make a joke, but Jonathan didn’t look amused. “Why me, Jonathan?”
Jonathan placed his fingers over Gale’s lips. “Why you?” He caressed Gale’s neck and hair. “Why indeed.”
“But.” Gale became frustrated. “Jonathan, I’ve dabbled in so much shit. I don’t have anything to offer you as far as personality or intelligence goes. Sorry. I didn’t even manage a high-school degree. I’m an ex-dope addict. Not to mention this.” Gale raised his shirt to expose his pentagram tattoo. “This was the worst thing I ever did as a teen. I still can’t get rid of the demons.”
“I don’t care about your past. I just want your present.”
“My present is steeped in my past. Don’t you see? I wish I could let it go. But I’m haunted.”
Jonathan stifled an amused laugh.
“Do you think this is funny?” Gale was deeply hurt. “Jonathan, listen, please. If I give you my body will you help me learn to be more self-reliant?”
“Is this a joke?”
When he sensed the patronizing, Gale sat up. “Never mind.”
“I never perceived you as weak, Gale. And it’s your rebel nature I’m most attracted to.” Jonathan worked his hand under Gale’s shirt, smoothing his fingers towards a nipple. “I don’t want to change a thing about you.”
Feeling sick to his stomach, needing a strong ally, Gale begged in silence for him to agree.
“You already are powerful.” Jonathan pinched Gale’s nipple. “Sometimes a little too powerful.”
A flash of heat hit Gale’s face, like a kiln door opened. The seriousness of Jonathan’s words caused Gale to feel dizzy. As Jonathan folded Gale’s shirt back, revealing his skin, Jonathan grinned in his demonic way.
In the grip of Jonathan’s wicked smirk, Gale shivered, praying Jonathan was a good ally and not something more sinister. “Please. I’m not powerful. I don’t know why you’re sensing that.”
“Shh...” Jonathan kissed Gale’s chest while he caressed the area of Gale’s tattoo. Jonathan opened the zipper of Gale’s jeans and spread the fabric wide.
Something black flew across the room, shadowy and dark. Did Shari send her demonic spies here?
“Help me, please.” Gale shivered.
Leaning up next to Gale, Jonathan dragged his jeans down his legs exposing Gale’s cock. Gale swallowed his terror at the apparition and raised his hips off the bed. His clothing was removed for him.
Lying naked, witnessing Jonathan’s pleasure in touching him, Gale shut his eyes and envisioned he was surrounded in white light. When he blinked the light vision vanished, vanquished by a darker force.
Jonathan was still licking and caressing his skin, passing his palm over the tattoo without a care.
Be my angel. Be my angel.
Jonathan stood next to the bed and undressed, his cock standing straight out from his body.
For a man in his early fifties, Jonathan was fit and firm. Though Gale had never been attracted to older men, he wasn’t repulsed by Jonathan. Youth had been replaced by strength, power, and confidence. Not to mention, money.
Jonathan crawled over the bed, urging Gale to bend his knees and expose his ass. Instantly feeling apprehensive, Gale panted to gain air.
First licking his thumb to moisten it, Jonathan then massaged Gale’s rim with it.
A charge of fire hit Gale, so he opened up, relaxing his tightly wound muscles. Jonathan kissed his way down Gale’s lower abdomen to his cock, sucked on his balls, and pressed Gale’s legs backwards until his hole was within tongue’s reach.
Jonathan spread Gale’s ass cheeks and lapped at his rim. Gale was just as excited by it as the first encounter when he did it. “You like licking me?”
“Hell yeah.” Jonathan poked his tongue into Gale’s ass like a tiny prick.
Gale gripped the bedding in tight fists. When the fireplace ignited, Gale shouted out in fear and jolted.
Jonathan gave him a quizzical look. “What?”
“The fireplace!” Gale pointed at him. “It just lit by itself.”
“The switch.” Jonathan gestured to the box by the head of the bed. “I just turned it on.”
“When?” Gale could see only Jonathan’s silhouette in front of the orange flames.
“When you shut your eyes just now. Are you okay, Gale?”
Calming down, Gale touched his chest and felt his pounding heart. “Yes. Sorry.”
Jonathan resumed where he had left off, running long wet licks between Gale’s legs. “Have you ever shaved your balls?”
“Yes.” Gale unwound his tight back and sunk into the lush bedding. “You want me to do it again?”
“I’ll do it for you.”
“Anything you wish.”
“Sir.”
“Sir.” Gale’s legs splayed into a wide straddle as his balls were kneaded and his ass prodded.
Lulled into a stupor by the attention Jonathan paid to his genitals, Gale was shifting to an altered state of consciousness.
Blurred heat images floated in front of the crackling gas flames. Next Gale heard the sound of Jonathan leaving and returning from the next room. A sensation of cold lubrication being inserted into his ass followed. Gale was sure he was on drugs. None of this seemed real.
Once again, his senses were dulled and he felt helpless to do anything but allow Jonathan his way.
Jonathan knelt between Gale’s thighs and drew Gale’s body closer. The pressure of Jonathan’s thick cock met Gale’s rim. As it sank deeper, Gale opened his lips to gasp, pressing his head into the pillows. Jonathan’s hold on Gale’s legs tightened.
His body becoming nothing more than a vessel for Jonathan’s release, Gale received, doing nothing but allowing Jonathan to lead. The thrusting became harder, wilder, and deeper. As Gale’s hard-on softened, Jonathan ordered, “Come.”
Though his limbs felt thick and uncooperative, Gale released his strangle hold on the bedding and gripped his dick. The hammering into his ass grew fierce.
Gale forced his eyes to open. Jonathan’s skin was covered in dew and shimmered from the flames behind him. The sound of Jonathan’s escalating moans filled the dim room, masking the sound of the ocean right outside their sliding door.
“Come now.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Yes, sir.” Gale fisted himself as Jonathan’s cock thickened to a steel rod up his ass. The climax seemed to come from Gale’s mid-section, not his balls. Gale felt the muscles of his heart throbbing so strongly, he was about to pass out.
His cum erupted from his slit, spraying him in the face and shoulder.
“Yes.” Jonathan crooned a deep humming sound and Gale felt his cock pulsating inside him.
Before Gale was able to react, Jonathan licked the spent cum from Gale’s skin.
“Holy shit.” Gale shook his head to clear it.
Jonathan spun him to his side, jamming his cock back into Gale for more.
Gale blinked and asked, “How old are you?”
He heard Jonathan laugh.
Jonathan’s stiff dick continued to seek pleasure. Gale knew how it felt at eighteen to come again and again, never losing your erection, but even at twenty-three he needed a minute to recover. How was it possible a man in his early fifties was still fucking? “You take blue pills?”
“Hell no.”
Again Gale was manipulated on the bed like a puppet. He faced the pillows and his ass was elevated and impaled once more. “Did you come?”
“Indeed.”
“And you’re still hard?”
“Do you need more lube?”
Before Gale could answer, Jonathan pulled out, stuck the bottle up Gale’s ass as if he were adding grease to a car sprocket and filled it with gel.
It was a slightly impersonal way to behave and Gale didn’t know how to react. “I—” Gale shut up when Jonathan continued to screw him like a buck in heat.
Bull shit. You take pills. You can’t fuck like a teenager and tell me you’re not on them.

Jonathan dragged Gale upright, sitting him on his lap. Gale leaned on his hands, trying to get used to the deeper penetration.

“Okay?”
“Yes.” Gale was surprised expected him to react without backwards on Jonathan’s stiff cock. His own soft package was fondled, tugged on, and stretched like a rubber toy. But there was no way Gale could get hard again or climax with this emotionless, romance-void coupling.
Jonathan disconnected, tossed Gale on his back, pushed his legs sideways and entered him again. Gale’s jaw hung slack in awe. “I have never been fucked like this in my life.”
Jonathan’s low chuckle sent the hairs standing on Gale’s neck. “Get used to it.”
Gale relaxed. Maybe I could. Maybe I just could. It’s better than nothing.
Jonathan asked, having comment. Gale rocked Chapter 7
The next day the wind blowing from the Pacific Ocean was brisk. Gale’s boots made deep impressions in the wet sand as he and Jonathan walked by the huge rock formations known as the Haystacks.

The hotel was practically on the beach, so they only needed to push open the sliding door to be at the water’s edge.

After a leisurely stroll on the beach, followed by going to town for lunch and in and out of antique shops, Gale was feeling at peace and beginning to enjoy Jonathan’s company.

Gale listened to Jonathan talk, which wasn’t often. Jonathan was a man of a few words, and Gale was afraid of sounding ignorant to this educated man. But at times Jonathan fell into deep spates of silence, as if contemplating his own troubles or mortality.

By evening they were once again granted the privacy of their rooms.
Jonathan locked the door, tossed the key on the dresser, and removed his jacket and shoes. “I need more time off,” Jonathan said, mostly to himself. “The stress is starting to get to me again.”
“I can’t imagine owning or running a bank in this economy.” Gale hung his jacket up.
Jonathan rubbed his face in exhaustion.
Gale pointed to a bottle of wine they had purchased earlier in town. “Should I open that?”
“Yes. Please.”
Gale peeled the metallic seal off and removed the corkscrew they had bought with it, from the bag.
As he poured into two stemmed glasses, Gale noticed Jonathan appeared distracted. “Looks like you can use more than wine to lift your spirits.”
Coming aware, Jonathan met Gale’s eyes and reached for the glass. “What have you got in mind?”
Gale smiled.
After he sipped the chardonnay, Jonathan said, “Am I in for a treat?”
“Possibly.” Gale brought the glass of wine to his lips.
Jonathan dropped to the bed heavily. “I’m up for anything.”
“Yes. In that department you are.”
Jonathan gave Gale a sensual wink.
“Okay. Give me a minute.”
“Take all the time you need.”
Gale poured the wine down his throat, leaving the room with his overnight bag, headed to the bathroom.
~
While Gale was out of the room, Jonathan checked his cell phone. The amount of text messages and voicemail annoyed him. He stuck the phone to his ear to listen to the messages, finishing his wine.
The sound of the bathroom door opening gained Jonathan’s attention. When Gale appeared, Jonathan’s breath caught in his throat.
Gale posed against the doorframe. He was naked from the waist up and his black leather pants were skin tight. He was wearing a studded collar with matching wristbands, his hair, wild and full like a mane, and his eyes so vivid they seemed painted.
Gale took the glass out of Jonathan’s fingers, ran his tongue over the rim and emptied the last drop into his mouth.
Jonathan groaned and licked his lips. Suddenly Gale had turned into the expert seducer. The empty glass was set aside and Gale started to unbutton Jonathan’s shirt.
“You are so beautiful,” Jonathan purred as his shirt slipped down his arms, falling to the floor.
“Am I?”
Jonathan peeked down as Gale undid his belt and trousers.
“You’re so powerfully built. You’re perfection.” Quit sure this was not reality, for it was too fine a treat for his senses, Jonathan could hardly stand the erotic chills racing over his groin. “You need to stop underestimating yourself, Gale.” Jonathan’s trousers fell to the carpet silently as Gale smoothed his hands over Jonathan’s naked chest and arms. Jonathan closed his eyes from the desire as his heart beat furiously against his ribs.
Gale coaxed him backwards. Jonathan fell back onto the pillows as Gale finished undressing him. Jonathan waited to see what Gale would do. Gale stood back to allow Jonathan to admire him as he did the same.
Relaxing, Jonathan placed his hands behind his head and enjoyed the view immensely. “You like leather?”
Batting his lashes like a virgin, Gale smiled shyly. “I like to play.”
“Do you?” Jonathan’s gaze was drawn to Gale’s tattoo.
Gale crawled onto the bed between Jonathan’s legs and licked him from the chest up to his chin. “Do you want to play with me?”
A chill washed over Jonathan’s spine. Gale rubbed his leather pants on his naked skin, nuzzling into his neck, biting softly.
Jonathan asked, “What exactly have you got in mind?”
Gale lay his entire weight down on Jonathan and held Jonathan’s wrists, raising them over his head, placing Jonathan in total submission.
“I see.”
“Say yes.” Gale stared into Jonathan’s eyes.
“No.”
Almost as if he figured on the response, Gale sighed loudly, then released Jonathan and rolled next to him.
Jonathan mirrored him, loving that pout. He tugged at the collar in amusement as Gale peeked at him from under his long hair.
“Charming. You look like a demonic rock star.” Jonathan deliberately touched Gale’s tattoo when he said it.
“I can’t be the top?”
Jonathan roared with laughter.
Gale took offense. “Hey.” He frowned. “Don’t make fun of me.”
“I’m not. You’re an irresistible bottom. Now get naked.”
Turning into the obedient slave once more, Gale saluted. “Yes, sir.” He hopped off the bed and his leather jeans dropped soundlessly to the floor. He kept his studded choker collar and wristbands on and shook out his hair so it was wild.
Watching every move he made, Jonathan groaned aloud at the sight. “You are spectacular, Gale Hansen,” he said seductively, “A work of art.”
Gale’s eyes lit on fire with his grin. He spread his legs and ran his hand over himself. “What’s your pleasure?”
Chills made their way over Jonathan’s flesh and his mouth watered. “Get over here and lay down.” He reached out his fingers.
Gale crawled over the bed and mimicked his posture, facing Jonathan as he ran his hand over him gently. Jonathan knew Gale fought the urge to take over and be allowed to do as he wished. It’s all part of the play, sweetie.
Gale relaxed under Jonathan’s soothing stroking, his head rested on his outstretched arm. Jonathan let the excitement in him build. That’s it, my rebel. Calm your inner warrior.
The moment Jonathan felt Gale release himself to his will, he flipped Gale over to lie face down and used his knees to spread Gale’s legs. Hearing Gale’s sharp inhale at the surprise made Jonathan’s cock throb. He wanted to fuck him bareback, but didn’t. Aw, not top? Poor thing. Jonathan mocked him in his head.
Inching down, doing what he loved best, Jonathan parted Gale’s ass and devoured his rim.
Gale hissed out in a loud breath and his body jerked in reflex.
“Get the lube,” Jonathan ordered.
Using his left arm to slap at the nightstand blindly, Gale fished around the drawer for where they had left their supplies. One by one the items were located and dropped on the bed.
Now who’s top? Who’s master? Me. Got it, slave boy?
Jonathan pushed the bottle top into Gale’s ass callously and squeezed it. Gale’s cheek muscles clenched in response. He tossed the bottle aside and sheathed his cock. “On your knees.”
Gale slowly raised his hips up into the air.
“I fuck you. I dominate you. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
He heard Gale’s fearful gulp and delighted in it. After getting a firm grip on Gale’s hips, Jonathan impaled him, making Gale arch his back and choke from the invasion.
“Like it?” Jonathan smiled.
“Yes. Sir.” Gale’s fists clenched as he strangled the bedding.
“Good.”
Chapter 8

By Wednesday evening, Gale was exhausted, feeling as if the essence of his life was drained from him. Another wad of cash filled his wallet, but the contact with Jonathan left him empty. It wasn’t a relationship. It was an arrangement. One Gale wasn’t thrilled with.

But making deals with bad influences were becoming commonplace in his life. As far as Gale was concerned he had sold his soul to another devil. One who owned a bank instead of a place in Hades.

Probably the same thing in this economy . He shook his head. The physical sex was demanding, the emotional connection a vacuum. All Gale was getting out of it was money and a sore ass.

When Gale came through the door of his apartment the phone was ringing. Dropping his bag, he hurried over the remnants of a broken vase and shattered ashtray to lift the receiver.

“Wherever have thought you were yours.”

“Muriel, Muriel, Muriel. You worry too much. I’m fine. I just went away for two days.” Gale pushed his hair back from his face.
“You could have called. I fretted for forty-eight hours.
Where did you go?”
“Away. Look, stop worrying about me. I’m a big boy.” He
stared at the ceramic shards on the rug.
“The reason I tried to call you,” she enunciated slowly as
Gale lost interest and thought about cleaning up the slum that
he occupied. “Your mother wants to see you.”
Gale didn’t care what his mother wanted.
“Gale?”
“I’m here.” He sat down at the kitchen table.
“She’s coming here for dinner and she wants to see you.” Gale raised his boot heels to rest on the tabletop, leaning
back in the chair. “Oh? Does she now?”
you been? I’ve been worried sick. I squashed somewhere on that bike of “Be nice. She’s a different lady these days. She’s off the
drugs and—”
“And?”
“Gale, I thought you would feel differently about all this
by now.”
“Ha. Yeah, right. Why didn’t she call me herself?” “She was afraid. Afraid of hearing what I’m hearing right
now. Darling, it’s been almost two and a half years. She’s
been hesitant to contact you. You give her reasons to fear
your responses.”
“No. She gave herself all those reasons. She took a part of
me, Muriel. A part I can never have back. You know what
she did to me. What she exposed me to.” Gale peered down at
his stomach as if he could see the tattoo through his shirt. “Yes, I know, dear. I’ll tell her it’s still impossible. That
you can’t see her. Won’t that make it simple?”
“Simple. Ha.” He grumbled. “Nothing in my life has ever
been simple.” He rubbed his eyes. “I’ll see her.”
Muriel stayed silent.
Gale assumed she was trying to get a ‘read’ on him as
usual. “When? When did you say you were having dinner?” “Tonight. Six o’clock.”
“Whatever.” Angry with himself for giving in, Gale hung
up the phone and tried to forget the wreck his mother had
made of him. A hot tear ran down his cheek. Hating that era
of his life, he wiped at it roughly and set his boots back on the
kitchen floor.
Then, in exhaustion, he leaned his elbows on the table and
lay his head down as a sob of agony slipped out beyond his
control.
~
Gale searched through his wardrobe wanting to look
particularly wicked. He wore his tightest leather jeans, black
boots, a silver chain spur around his left heel, a black cotton
button down shirt, a silver bracelet on his right wrist, his new
watch on his left, and a diamond earring stud in the hole in
his left earlobe. He blew his hair out full and wild, eased into his leather jacket, zipped it high on his throat and wrapped a white silk scarf around his neck after dabbing on cologne. Holding his head high and checking himself out in the mirror,
he sneered. “Eat your heart out, Mommy Dearest.” Gale parked his bike in Muriel’s long winding driveway.
He didn’t see a second car. Probably too stoned or drunk to
drive, eh, Mom? His lip curled in contempt.
Taking off his helmet, Gale had so many doubts and
second thoughts about this encounter he nearly rode back
home. The autumn evening was damp and Gale inhaled the
salty Sound air into his lungs. He was doing this for Muriel.
That woman had stood by him during his worst times. Not his
mother-the-devil-worshipper who got him hooked on dope
and Satan when he was fifteen.
Just noticing the front door of the house was open, Gale
spotted Muriel waiting for him. “Hello, Muriel.”
Muriel leaned in for a kiss. Gale pecked her cheek softly. “Hello, Gale, dear. Come in.”
The minute he stepped foot in the foyer, placing his
helmet on the floor by the door, he saw his mother. He
expected the worst from this reunion. Gale held steady under
her inspection, scrutinizing her at the same time. She was still
attractive; slim, thirty-eight, with long black hair and dark
brown mischievous eyes.
At his reluctance, Muriel led Gale by his hand. “Take off
your jacket.”
Keeping his eye on his mother, Gale unzipped it slowly,
unraveling his scarf. Muriel took his things and handed it to
her maid. “Are you two going to say hello to each other?” Gale straightened up his back. “Hello, Mother. Corrupt
any fifteen year olds lately?”
Choking at the comment, Muriel frowned and shook her
head. “Gale. Please.”
Patty let out a sad laugh. “Still hot on leather?” About to slap her, Gale moved across the room until he
towered over her menacingly. “No. This was deliberately for
you. Does it turn you on? Make you want to cast a spell on
me?” Mocking her, he opened his arms wide.
Patty threw up her hands in frustration. “I was barely
fifteen when I had you. I was a drug addict. Will you ever let
me get over it?”
“Let you? Let you get over it? What about what I went
through? Do you have any idea the effect you have had on
my life?”
“Christ. Leave me alone. Will you just let me forget it
ever happened? Your father said this would set my therapy
back a decade.” Patty rubbed her temples like they ached. “Then why did you want to see me? Why put us both
through this shit?” Gale felt sick to his stomach.
“Because you’re my son.”
“Oh? Your son? And you treated me like I was your son,
didn’t you, Mother? Or did you treat me like I was something
else? Like your dope partner, maybe. Or worse, your demonic
connection.” His heart tore open at the pain of the wound. He
still bled over what she did to him. “Mothers are supposed to
protect their children from that crap, not turn them on to it.” Muriel said, “Stop it. Stop it, you two. I won’t tolerate this
kind of behavior.”
Patty broke down and covered her face.
Shredded up inside, Gale turned away from her and put
his hands on his hips, defiant. God, I hate you. You’re the
reason for my tampering with the devil and drugs. You! Seemingly trying to get herself under control, Patty wiped
at her cheeks with the back of her hands. “I’m sorry, sorry,
sorry. Gale, I can’t even look at you the same way anymore.
You’re just a man. It’s as if I never gave birth to you. I can’t
see you as my son. I was fifteen when you were born. It was
too long ago and I was too young. Too stoned. Too stupid.” Something collapsed inside of him. Maybe it was the
hatred. He looked directly at her. At his cold glance, she
steadied herself for more rage.
He closed the distance between them as Muriel watched.
Gale knew Muriel was unsure if he was going to strike Patty
or embrace her.
“Gale…” Patty’s breathing was just gasps between her
sobs.
Impulsively Gale crushed his mother against him and
rocked her, crying as he nuzzled into her hair. Like a little
boy in her arms, Gale was confused. Her bad judgment had
left him afraid to let himself be loved again. Afraid it would
bring the same betrayal and pain. He wanted to kill her and he
wanted to love her.
While Patty clung to him, Gale felt her body wrack with a
deep painful sob. After he raised his head from her shoulder,
Gale could see the rivers of tears that had run down her face. Patty moved her hand slowly, touching his jaw. Muriel waited. Gale knew she tried not to interfere. At the gentle caress, Gale lowered his eyes and attempted
to gain more control of his emotions. When he blinked his
wet lashes, Patty leaned toward his ear, whispering her spell,
“You that are in hell…fall to your knees before Satan and
deny God…”
In horror, Gale shoved her back. The reaction startled
Muriel terribly.
“You! You!” Gale backed away from his mother, pointing
at her accusingly.
Realizing this reunion had gone bad, Muriel rushed
between them. “Gale. Stop.”
“No, Muriel. She’s doing it to me again. She began
reciting love me or die.”
At the accusation, Patty’s face was ashen, her head
shaking in denial when her voice failed.
“Get me my jacket. Now,” Gale yelled.
“I am so disappointed in you, Patricia.” Muriel glared at
her and left to obey quickly.
Patty’s eyes were spilling over again. “Gale. Please. I
wasn’t.”
“Shut up. Just shut up.” He covered his ears, knowing how
potent her incantations were.
Patty sobbed. “Please say you’ll see me again. I love you.
I need to see you, Gale.”
“You’ll never do what you did to me again. Do you hear
me?” He shivered in terror. “Never.”
Gale’s leather jacket in her arms, Muriel rushed to hand it
to him. Dazed and weak, Gale struggled with his zipper,
picked up his helmet and hurried out of the house.
As Gale mounted his bike, he realized he’d left his scarf.
Muriel was at the door, watching him. About to burst into
tears of agony, Gale saw his mother raise the scarf to her nose
to catch his scent of cologne.
He had the urge to get it back from her, aware of what a
talisman that powerful meant to his mother.
He couldn’t do it. Kicking the Harley to life, hearing it
thunder in the empty neighborhood, Gale could barely see
through his tears as he spun gravel. He couldn’t get away
from her fast enough.
When he came through his apartment door, he felt more
shadows surrounding him. “It’s worse. Oh, God, it’s worse!”
He did a sweep of the apartment, removing all the black
mirrors and stacking them near the door. The candle holder as
well, and anything else that Shari had left or reminded him of
the rituals. With a hammer in his fist and the mirrors under
his arm, Gale stood behind his apartment at the dumpster and
one by one smashed the glass, ridding himself of the
portholes to hell. The minute he returned to the apartment he
called a locksmith to have his door locks rekeyed, keeping
Shari out.
Chapter 9

The rush hour traffic irritated Gale. Patience never being one of his virtues, he leaned around the cars to have a look and realized the stopped cars on I-5 went on for miles. He recalled not too long ago Seattle was rush hour free. Now it was competing with LA.

Glancing over to his right quickly, Gale plowed down the shoulder at seventy-five miles per hour, darting back into the long line again quickly when he spotted a patrol vehicle with a disabled car up ahead. He moved the next few miles to his exit at a snail’s pace flying off the exit ramp as if he was released from a net.

He was to meet Jonathan at a hotel across Lake Washington.
Without a problem Gale located the small hotel and parked his bike in the shadowy lot. Once he removed his helmet, he inspected the casual look of the place. A definite contrast to the posh city high-rises he assumed Jonathan was accustomed to.
Giving the area a scan, Gale didn’t see Jonathan’s Mercedes, then noticed it parked in front of one of the units. Number twelve. That was the one. He waited, making sure no one was around, tucked his helmet under his arm, and made for the door.
The raucous call of a crow made Gale stop in his tracks. It circled around in the invisible draft above him. Distracted for a moment by the ominous omen, Gale touched the door, wondering if the bird was one of his mother’s spies. Turning the knob, Gale found it unlocked and pushed it open.
“You look like a Hell’s Angel.” Jonathan was reclining on the bed.
Gale tossed his helmet on a chair and locked the door.
It’d been three weeks since they’d been able to manage time together. Gale was low on funds and Jonathan forbade him to call or leave voicemail messages. Never able to figure out if he had become yesterday’s trick, Gale began scanning the help wanted sections again.
Jonathan’s mouth spread to a wicked grin. “Look at you in that outfit.” He shook his head. “Anyone see you come in?”
“No, I don’t think so.” Gale tossed off his jacket and then sat down to remove his boots.
“I’m sorry it was so long. I’ll try not to let that happen again.”
Getting down to the business of getting naked, Gale stuffed his socks in his boots and started to unbutton his shirt. “I understand.”
“How are you holding out for money?”
Gale stood, his leather chaps falling to the floor. “I could use a few bucks.” Setting the chaps on top of the growing pile of clothing, Gale rubbed his crotch over his soft denim jeans.
Jonathan stretched out his hand. Gale reached to take the cash from him. Gale gave the wad of bills a brief glance, seeing it was several hundred. “Thanks.” He stuffed it into his jeans’ pocket before yanking them down.
As Gale’s light blue denims fell, revealing nothing underneath, he peeked up and watched Jonathan salivating at the sight, staring intently at his every movement.
“Shower?” Gale tilted his head.
“I’ll join you.” Jonathan hopped off the bed and started to disrobe.
“You want to shower together? My, that’s romantic.”
“Shut up and go start the water.” Jonathan nudged him.
Gale shook his head, trying not to get emotionally involved with a man as detached as Jonathan.
After turning on the water, Gale leaned in and tested the temperature under his fingers. Behind him, Jonathan smoothed his palm over his back and ass. Gale spied over his shoulder at him. “Yes?”
“Just keep doing what you’re doing.”
Gale straightened his posture. “The shower’s ready for you.”
Jonathan nodded for Gale to climb in first, stepping in after him. He watched as Gale allowed the water to soak him.
Jonathan sucked a breath between his teeth as he ogled. Gale stepped aside and they traded positions.
“Pass me the soap.” Gale took the small bar from Jonathan, removed the paper wrapper and began massaging his own chest. “You seem really stressed out. You okay?”
Jonathan tugged on Gale’s soft genitals. “Do you really want to know or are you just pretending we’re friends?”
At the snide reply, Gale took insult. “I really want to know.” Gale read the concern on his face and ran the soap over Jonathan’s chest. “You can talk to me, you know. I’ll listen.”
“Just wash up.”
Sensing something wrong, Gale stepped back and kept scrubbing, then prodded a little more. “Please talk to me, Mr. Strickland.”
Jonathan’s eyes narrowed at the remark. “Are you my paid whore or do I have to tolerate you as my close companion?”
“Ouch.” Gale winced, while he ran the soap over himself. “Do you intend to demean me? Because you do. You make me feel like shit.”
“Fine.” Jonathan appeared to be simply humoring Gale. “It’s a number of things. For starters The Times has begun to print slander about me and the number of foreclosures my bank has caused. Well, it’s simply over-inflated.”
Gale had his opinion about big banks and their lending practices, but he had asked Jonathan to talk about what troubled him. He gave Jonathan a tender smile and touched his wet gray hair.
Jonathan met his eyes. “And Jerry and I had a fight.”
“Jerry?” Gale tilted his head.
“My son.”
“Oh.” Gale nodded, remembering he had two grown children.
“He’s addicted to cocaine and trying to pass his business classes at the University of Washington. He’s failing, needless to say. I can’t convince him to get treatment.”
“Drugs.” Gale shook his head, sympathizing.
“Yes. What is it about substance abuse? How did you avoid the pitfalls yourself?” Jonathan rinsed and allowed Gale to do the same, shutting the water.
Thanking Jonathan for the towel, Gale wiped his face and said, “My mother got me into drugs when I was growing up. I was an addict for most of my life. Now? I can’t stand the stuff. I saw what it did to her. It made her act like an idiot. I have her to thank for corrupting me.” Gale could tell Jonathan was listening carefully as they finished drying off.
“Enough talk. Get in bed.”
“Yes, sir.” Gale saluted and tossed the towel over the shower door. He climbed onto the mattress, moving to be able to see Jonathan.
Jonathan embraced Gale, their damp skin sticking to each other.
Craving affection, Gale snuggled up, loving the clean scent of soap. He rubbed his face into Jonathan’s wet hair.
Jonathan ran his hands over Gale’s skin, but Gale sensed something still wrong.
“Have I upset you by asking you to talk about things? I’m sorry.”
Jonathan found his eyes instantly. “No you haven’t.”
“Are you sure?” Gale squinted at him.
“Roll over.”
At the cold command, Gale gradually adjusted so he was lying on his stomach with his legs parted. It was a reminder to him this was business, not a relationship.
Gale suddenly wondered if he had allowed yet another demon to enter his life and control him. Jonathan’s money was certainly at the bottom of that control. He gave Gale enough cash to exist on in return for their sex. Gale had to admit he couldn’t resist the easy income.
The identical sexual ritual played out. Like a bad dream, it occurred to Gale they did the exact same thing each time. And Gale had no choice. This was Jonathan’s fantasy, not his.
What price had Jonathan paid to get his wish? An eternal hard-on and a twenty-three year old submissive play-toy? That was some deal with the devil, Mr. Strickland.
Then again, if he was not dealing with Beelzebub himself, Gale could imagine Jonathan shaking hands with his own version of Satan, agreeing to give politician, greedy corporate CEO’s and his board of trustees their big bonuses, in exchange…for?
His ass?
Gale heard Jonathan moan as his tongue darted in and out of his rim. He envisioned Jonathan was a snake with a forked tongue.
Saying it in his head before Jonathan did, Gale thought, Get the lube.
A second later it was verbalized.
“Get the lube.”
Gale shivered from terror. No. No. Oh, God. Is this real or am I imagining this in my head?
He leaned up on his elbows and looked at Jonathan. Everything seemed very real. The room, the scent of hotel soap, the feel of the white crisp sheets, the hum of the heater under the window, noise of a door a few rooms down.
“Gale.”
“Huh?”
“The lube is on the nightstand.”
And it was. Right where it usually sat. Gale had to force himself to obey. “Should I suck you, maybe?” Gale asked, “For a change?”
“Give me the lube.”
Doubt and fear seized Gale. He tried to turn over but Jonathan kept him in place.
“I gave you an order.”
Gulping his trepidation back, Gale reached for the bottle and handed it to Jonathan. Immediately Gale was forced against the mattress and the gel top was inserted up his ass.
Do I fight?
Gale imagined trying to overpower Jonathan. If I did? What? No more money. No more sex. What do I want?
His hips were elevated enough for access and he was impaled. Gale chewed on the pillowcase to quiet his howl of pain and pleasure.
Jonathan’s slick hand manipulated Gale’s cock and balls like they were a rubber dildo.
Clenching his jaw, Gale was propelled into an altered state of euphoria. Hammered, fisted, and fucked like never in his wildest dreams, Gale could do nothing but receive, and come.
When it hit, Gale threw back his head and bayed at the moon like a werewolf, hearing Jonathan’s devilish laugh as he did.
Chapter 10

The next morning, sleeping deeply, Gale awoke to the noise of a loud truck outside his apartment window. Irritated at the intrusion, he groaned and pulled the pillow over his head. When he heard someone knocking at his door he swore under his breath and grabbed a pair of jeans, hopping into them to cover his nakedness. He yelled, “I’m coming,” while zipping them up.

Gale opened it and jumped out of his skin. “Jonathan?” He panicked, trying to tame his wild bed-hair.
Before Jonathan entered, he spied behind him as if checking if he was seen, then stepped inside quickly and closed the door.
“Is everything okay?” Gale rubbed his chest nervously.
“I wanted to see where you lived.” Jonathan curled his lip in distaste at the messy room.
Still groggy from a deep sleep, Gale had a look around as well. The rug was beyond needing a good vacuuming. Empty food cartons and magazines littered the faded, stained, rustcolored pile. A tatty beige couch, a mismatched, torn upholstered chair and low coffee table, marred by carved initials and symbols, were arranged in a circular pattern in the middle of the room. A makeshift shelf; a plank of wood over two crates held his stereo system along with a small screen television. A few stacks of books and several pairs of shoes were on the floor. The apartment was a dismal wreck. And that didn’t begin to compete with the water-stained ceiling, peeling, smudged beige paint and black, moldy corners. An assortment of movie and rock star posters hung on the wall, pinned with thumbtacks. There was a dead potted plant on the floor in front of his stereo system. And now, since the mirrors were removed, nail holes in the plasterboard added to the mystique.
After taking a deep breath to relax, Gale witnessed Jonathan assessing the contents with disdain.
Something crunched under Jonathan’s shoe. Crouching down, he picked up a small ceramic shard, showing Gale. Gale shrugged. “Sorry. I had no idea you were coming.”
He knew his apartment was far from sanitized. It was as if he was being laid bare for Jonathan, more than taking off his clothing ever seemed. Gale wished Jonathan hadn’t come for the spot check. It was embarrassing. He knew he was a slob and neglected the place.
Jonathan walked to the kitchen toward the Formica and aluminum table and four chairs. The sink was clogged with dirty dishes and empty beer bottles. A loud diesel engine whined from outside the open window over the sink. Gale assumed the garbage men were emptying the dumpster that sat directly under it. The sheer white curtains framing the window were sooty gray. Gale was well aware the furniture looked used or Goodwill vintage. It came with the apartment. He didn’t buy any of it. There were piles of dirty laundry leading to the bedroom.
“Was this what you expected?” Gale felt as timid as a shaved cat while Jonathan wandered into his bedroom.
The bed was unmade, grossly motorcycle parts had damaged and magazines were on the floor, issues leather, as well as Harley Davidson motorcycle magazines. Gale’s outdated computer stood in the corner on a tray table.
Gale crossed his arms tightly over his bare chest as Jonathan studied his belongings like a drill sergeant making an inspection.
On the dresser was an odd assortment of items. Intrigued, Jonathan went in for a closer look. Gale held his breath. He knew what Jonathan had found.
Next to two motorcycle helmets were Gale’s ‘toys’. With interest, Jonathan picked up a black leather object and investigated it.
Gale cringed with humiliation. It was a hood with a masklike face. It seemed to stare out of its hollow eyes, a silver zipper opened to a mouth. Seeing what it was, Jonathan spun around, meeting Gale’s gaze. “Fascinating.”
Gale had the urge to snatch it out of his hand. “No. Stop disheveled; spare smudged one wall, with naked men in looking. Why did you come here?”
Jonathan set it down. He’d unearthed some other sexual accessories that had been beneath it. As the hairs rose on Gale’s neck, Jonathan fingered a pair of handcuffs, metal rings, leather straps, rubber dildos and a whip.
Anxiety seized Gale. He distanced himself from the table. “What did you expect, Jonathan? A loft in downtown? Designer décor? A PC and a Wii?”
“No. This is what I wanted; a raw savage male. And it’s exactly what I got.”
Gale felt like anything but a savage male. He felt like a freak of nature.
The perfect predator, Jonathan leaned against the wall near Gale and smiled wickedly.
A bit shaken by Jonathan’s actions, Gale gave a pensive one back. How well did he know this man? How did he let himself get drawn into his world? How foolish can one be? Gale craved the safe sterility of a hotel room. It seemed a completely new game now with his innards exposed.
Jonathan hunted him with a very hungry look in his eye.
Gale tried to pretend he was strong. “Do you like my place?” he asked flippantly.
“It’s what I envisioned.” Jonathan took a step closer.
“Is it?” Gale laughed nervously. “How can you not be disappointed?”
“I’m not.”
Gale’s back hit the wall when he retreated.
“Are you afraid of me?” Jonathan gestured as if he couldn’t understand Gale’s reaction.
“Of course not.” Gale was terrified.
“Then why are you backing away?”
Fighting the intimidation, Gale relied on his well practiced bravado. “Should I be?” He didn’t like the look in Jonathan’s grey eyes.
“Is this a joke?” Jonathan laughed, but it sounded wicked and cruel to Gale’s ears.
In earnest, Gale began to wonder if he truly should be afraid. He wasn’t joining in the laughter. Something wasn’t right.
Jonathan moved closer, appearing to get agitated at Gale’s behavior. “Why when you see me in a hotel are you more comfortable?”
Gale noticed the cross on his bedpost was moved so the crucifix hung hidden behind the bed. When did that happen? Had Shari done it before she stormed out? Gale couldn’t recall. He was having a hard time remembering anything with clarity.
Gale felt Jonathan’s vision dart to the same spot. He tried to cover up his concern. “I suppose there is something about you being in my home I find unsettling.”
“Why? Does it look like a good place for a murder?”
That horrified Gale. “I don’t find you amusing.” With both hands on his chest, Gale shoved Jonathan out of his personal space.
Jonathan appeared surprised. “Do not push me away.”
He wondered what Jonathan was playing at. This entire episode was becoming strange.
Jonathan tried to brush it off. “I think you just were unprepared for my visit.” He rested his chest against Gale’s. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you in the mood.” Jonathan’s suit crushed against his bare skin.
“I think we’d be better off in a hotel.” Twisting to get out of his grip, Gale couldn’t shake the sense of apprehension Jonathan’s actions gave him.
“No. I don’t think so. I want you here in your bed.” Jonathan softened his tone, “Where you sleep. I want to smell your cologne on your pillows.” Seductively, Jonathan came within a kiss of Gale’s lips but never made contact with them.
Gale thought it was ironic they had never kissed. But kissing was affection. That’s not what they shared.
“I want you right here and right now.”
The sound of Jonathan’s melodic voice began to block out the hesitation. Gale’s skin began to tingle. He stopped avoiding Jonathan’s gaze, allowing himself to get lost in his stare.
Jonathan took Gale into his arms. Gale couldn’t believe how much he was trembling. Like a virgin on her wedding night Jonathan led Gale to his bed.
Gale calmed his anxiety to a manageable level and kept his sites on Jonathan’s face. It was the only way of convincing himself he was safe while in reality Gale felt as if he were in the arms of the one he feared.
~
Later that afternoon after Jonathan had his usual sex routine with him, Gale leathered up, astride his Harley, another five hundred dollars in his pocket. Even so, he felt particularly dark and angry from the unannounced meeting early that morning. Was nothing sacred? Had they no boundaries? Jonathan could call him when he wanted, come over unannounced, but if Gale so much as left a voicemail message he was severely chastised? Talk about inequality.
Using the cash to pay his rent, utilities and food, he was left with only a few hundred tucked away, hidden in his apartment. Payment for a job well done.
Gale hated his life. It certainly wasn’t enough money to retire on. Jonathan kept him dependent. Gale knew it was all part of the game.
Back to the want ads. He didn’t want to be unemployed. Gale just continually struggled with a direction. A career.
Most of all, he hated both fearing and waiting for Jonathan’s call. Sometimes weeks would pass before he heard from him. He abhorred the time he had in between when he was left by himself to think. With Jonathan it was feast or famine.
This treacherous little secret tryst they shared. Gale wondered what would happen when it all blew sky high. Nothing could stay hidden forever.
As for his own life? Gale envisioned himself taken young. Reckless and indifferent to his own health and well being, he figured he’d never see thirty. He didn’t know if he cared. What did the decades hold for him to cherish? He wanted no wife, no children. In reality, he was even hesitant about giving his love at all. There was a part of him that was angry at himself for craving Jonathan’s warped union. But it was physical contact. And Gale loved being touched by a man.
It should have been just for the money. Gale wanted the money. He wanted Jonathan.
He needed Jonathan. Alone in his bed at night while he lay awake, Gale would imagine they were together permanently. A man of wealth and power, all his. Deep in a swoon, Gale would hold himself tight and lavish in that thought, climaxing to the memories of their sex together. But the thoughts eventually led to tears. Gale wanted more of an emotional connection to Jonathan. He wanted more than what he was allocated, much more. Love. The missing essential ingredient. There was no love.
The Harley speedometer needle hovered at one hundred and twenty miles per hour. Apathy was the one feeling that flowed the strongest through Gale’s veins. Apathy for himself. He just couldn’t care less. And at times, death seemed like a very viable alternative to the mess he’d made. ~
After his long ride through the Cascade Mountains along I-90 to think and unwind, Gale parked the bike and wandered University Avenue. He left a bar after drinking a few beers and eating a hamburger for dinner. He was about to mount his motorcycle and head home when a black Mercedes blinked its headlights on and off.
“Shit.” From weeks without to a day when you keep coming back. I can’t figure out your schedule.
Instantly transformed into worry mode, Gale shook his head at the conflict which grew in him. Though he wanted more of Jonathan, he was afraid of him at the same time.
Like a spider, the Mercedes crept forward slowly.
The litter-strewn sidewalk students, beggars and users, drenched in the drizzle, drinking or getting high in plain view.
The window lowered soundlessly. Jonathan’s silver hair shined in the street light’s glow. “Go to the Motel 6 in Kent.” was crowded with sinners and saints, college getting “Kent?” Gale crinkled his nose.
“Off Military Road,” came the curt reply.
“Yeah, I know the one. Christ, that’s a thirty minute drive from here. Why don’t we go back to my place? You already know it’s a dump.”
Jonathan rolled his eyes in annoyance and closed the tinted window.
Why? I’ll tell you why. Gale put his helmet on his head. Because you do as I say. You’re my slave. Isn’t that the whole point, Jonathan? “Why ask why?” He started the Harley and followed the ominous sedan to southbound I-5.
~
In another bland four walls of hotel ‘chic’, which was a carbon copy of every other mid-cost room they had shared, Gale’s heart sank.
It was silent as they showered together. Gale imagined he was rinsing off the sweat from exertion, while Jonathan rinsed off the weekday of stress on the job at the bank.
The silence like a vacuum, Gale wondered what he was supposed to do to change things, to deepen their relationship if that was possible.
Like a well rehearsed script, Jonathan dried off, tossed the towel over the rack and climbed onto the bed after setting out the same two items he did each time. A rubber and a bottle of gel.
Gale finished up in the bathroom, seeing Jonathan waiting.
Jonathan beckoned him. “Come here.”
He crawled over the bed. Jonathan nuzzled into Gale’s hair, purring. “Where ever did I find someone like you?” Gale squirmed as Jonathan stroked his cock. He was thinking identical thoughts. This was either too good to be true or Gale’s worst nightmare. Either way he knew it couldn’t last forever. Gale leaned up on his elbows over him. “Do you like me, Jonathan?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“An obvious one?” Gale tilted his head, trying to be comical.
“What does it matter?” Jonathan used both hands to fondle Gale’s genitals, tugging and massaging him until he was throbbing hard. “Do you need more money?”
About to shake his head, no, Gale bit his lip and closed his eyes. There was nothing here. Nothing but physical. Even without clairvoyant senses he knew that.
Years ago Gale had asked for pure physical pleasure during a session where he cast a circle and called up a shadow demon. Why it occurred to him now, Gale didn’t know.
The speed of Jonathan’s fisting increased.
Repositioning so he was kneeling, sitting on his heels, Gale relaxed his hands on his own thighs and allowed Jonathan to make him come. Focusing on the sensations of pleasure growing in his crotch, Gale’s head fell back gently. “That feels good.”
His balls were cupped in a hot palm and stretched low before Jonathan began to massage the root of his dick and his rim. A rush of pre-orgasmic chills hit Gale. Gale bit his lower lip and clenched his fists. “I’m there.”
He forced his eyes open to watch his dick spurt. Jonathan milked it strongly, urging more cream out. When Jonathan’s hand was full, he spread the spunk over the pentagram on Gale’s stomach, rubbing it in a circular motion.
It felt wrong. Don’t do that, was about to come out of Gale’s mouth, but he bit it back.
“Lie down.”
“Yes, sir.” Gale relaxed face down on the bed and dug his arms under the pillow to rest. His legs were spread and his ass hiked into the air. Predictably the heat of Jonathan’s tongue penetrated his ring.
Gale wondered if he should complain about the repetitive monotony. No. You’re being paid a fortune, you get your dick serviced and you ass licked. Shut up and let the guy get his jollies.
The bottle of lube was stuffed up his ass. Gale flinched. It was slightly rougher than usual. He almost told Jonathan to take it easy but suspected that comment would have consequences.
The bed shifted.
Gale peeked downwards, Jonathan’s legs were between his straddled knees. He was impaled soon after. Gale bit the pillow forcing himself to let go of his tense muscles.
Jonathan held Gale’s hips and hammered to his heart’s content.
Soon the pressure was tolerable, nearing pleasant. Gale never expected the act of being a bottom exclusively would eventually be his fate. It obviously was. The sensation of friction lit him into sizzling flames making him grow rock hard again. “Fuck me,” he moaned before he could prevent it.
Instantly, Jonathan increased his speed and depth. “Good boy.” He slapped Gale’s rump with a crack of his hand.
Gale inhaled sharply at the sting. He had never felt anything like this in his life. Was it Jonathan’s strength, his technique, his indifference? What was it?
Two orgasms this close together? Was he turning into Jonathan? Gale arched his back and came so hard his eyes rolled back in his head. “Aaaahhfffuck!” This time his spunk hit the headboard of the bed.
Jonathan’s cock throbbed like a thick rod up Gale’s ass, so Gale knew he was coming as well.
When Gale opened his eyes he gaped in amazement. “For fuck’s sake.” And this was after a morning bout. He was turning into a cum machine.
Saying nothing, Jonathan pulled out, leaving the room to clean up and dispose of the rubber.
Gale used a tissue to wipe the headboard, trying to catch his breath. He craved a nice cuddle and maybe even light conversation from Jonathan. Sitting up against the pillows, Gale waited.
Predictably Jonathan appeared uninterested. Once he returned he began getting dressed.
Gale tended to think about their ‘unholy union’ after the sex. It was then that Gale would look at the relationship as if he were an outsider. A foolish way indeed. If he was lacking a partner to share his life with, he hadn’t acquired one.
The thoughts on Jonathan’s face were too terribly easy to read. “Jonathan?” he asked, “Must we end each of our sexual encounters with silence or your departure?”
At the accusation, Jonathan snapped slightly out of his rote actions. “What do you want? Hmm? You want me to lie in your arms and whisper sweet nothings to you?”
Gale flinched. “You can’t give me one moment of conversation without it being cruel?”
After a brief pause, Jonathan continued to dress.
Gale threw up his hands. “Is this all there will ever be?”
“I can’t justify our relationship to you. It’s sex. Does it have to mean more than that?”
“It doesn’t have to be just sex.”
“I can’t give you more. You’re not stupid. You know why.”
Just as if Jonathan had jammed a sword into his chest, Gale felt pain move through him like he’d never felt before. It burned and tormented him until he felt dizzy with it.
A shadow, blacker than black, rushed behind where Jonathan stood. Gale jumped out of bed, stumbling away in terror. Once Gale gained his balance, feeling naked and vulnerable, he hid his face in his hands. “Make it leave!”
“Make what leave?”
Gale lowered his arms, looking around the room, keeping his back to the wall. He reached for his leather jeans.
“Are you high?” Jonathan watched in curiosity, as if he were unable to understand what was happening.
Sliding up his zipper, Gale asked, “Are you into it? Tell me the truth.” He gritted his teeth.
“Am I into it?” Jonathan smirked, like Gale was asking him something too obvious to believe. “No. I hate cock. I’m straight.” Jonathan removed his wallet from his pocket. “What are you high on? I get enough of Jerry’s cocaine ranting. I want none of that from you.” He threw a large stack of hundreds on the nightstand. “Get clean or this is over.”
“I’m not high,” Gale said, “You know what I mean, Jonathan.” Gale pointed to his tattoo. “Devil worship.” “Goodbye, Gale.”
When the door opened it pushed a gust of wind across Gale’s face. It closed, sending the cash into a swirling dance onto the floor.
Chapter 11

Taking a walk on The Ave in the rain, Gale stood at the corner of University Avenue and Fiftieth Street and waited for the traffic signal to change. Pedestrians held their umbrellas against the wind and pulled up their hoods as the torrent of never-ending dreary rain continued.

Shoving his hands into his pockets and raising his lowered head, Gale noticed something odd. He observed the glass store front windows as he passed. Had it been since he met Jonathan that this unusual phenomenon had begun? Gale spotted a shadow demon following him.

Each time he spun around to see it with his direct vision, it vanished. But every time Gale continued walking, the shadow appeared. He felt something pushed him from behind. Nothing was there. Gale had been tripped, scratched, and strangled by demonic creatures. He knew the frigid touch of one.

He was so distracted by the presence, Gale bumped into a man accidentally. Before Gale got the chance to utter an apology, the man glared at him in anger.

His head was shaved close to his scalp and he had a tuft of a beard under his bottom lip. At the sight of the man’s instant rage, Gale grimaced involuntarily. “Hey, dude, I’m sorry.” Gale held up both hands.

“Christ. What the fuck are you?” The man sneered in disgust, looking over Gale’s leather outfit.
“Sorry, man.” Gale made a move to walk away.
“You should be sorry, ya queerbait.”
Gale cringed and ground his jaw. His life was already riding a razor’s edge. He didn’t need a jolt into it to bleed.
“You nasty faggots need to stick to Broadway.”
At the incriminating words, Gale combusted. He lunged at the man like a rocket and grabbed him, throwing him into a wall of a shop, then started pounding his fists into him ruthlessly. It wasn’t just the single act of homophobia that had enraged him. Gale knew it was a month’s worth of fury over this anti-relationship with Jonathan.
The shock left the man totally off guard as he got into the fetal position as if to wait it out.
Someone started screaming for the police.
Gale felt arms surrounding him as bystanders tried to break up the one-sided fight. In the blink of an eye two uniformed officers were on Gale, pushing him over a soaking wet patrol car trunk and handcuffing him.
Gale spotted a medic crouching near the skinhead, dabbing his cut lip, nursing the man’s injuries. The man was saying, “I didn’t do anything! That animal attacked me for no reason! He’s mental. He should be committed!”
Understanding why he had reacted so badly when he knew better, Gale felt like shit.
The demonic spirits were back in full force and he had fought so hard to clean them out of his life. But his actions with Jonathan, the ungodliness of their union was opening up the circle, creating a door to allow them in.
Gale’s arms were pinned behind his back painfully. His chest heaved with his panting breaths. He tried to shake the hair away from his eyes only to find a shadow figure in the crowd. The tears ran down his cheeks from his frustration. “Go away!” Gale yelled at it.
The cops started in response and gripped him tighter.
“Not you.” Gale shook his head and tried to get the attention of the man he had assaulted. “I’m sorry,” he mouthed, then turned his face away so he couldn’t see anyone staring at him.
Gale’s wallet, always hooked on a chain to his belt loop, was removed from his back pocket. He peeked over his shoulder as his driver’s license was taken. Each pocket was searched in both his leather jacket and pants. The pat-down was hard and firm as the cop squeezed through the thick cowhide for weapons.
A large crowd of spectators, witnesses, and sympathizers were looking at him. A few hardcore Ave Rats jeered at the cops. Gale was placed in the backseat of the patrol car.
The two officers sat in the front seat, one tapping computer keys as they read his driver’s license info. Gale heard the cop in the driver’s seat as he spoke into the radio, “Two-Union-Forty-Five, one in custody, en route to the precinct.”
“Copy, Two-Union-Forty-Five, en route with one,” the dispatcher responded. The patrol car began to drive through the traffic and the rain-soaked street. The wiper blades were on intermittent, pushing the drops to the side to run down like tears.
Caught in a trap of his own stupidity, he couldn’t win.
“He looks like a fricken’ girl.” One cop held up his license photo to the other.
“Hey! I’m more of a fucking man than you’ll ever be, asshole,” Gale said. “That’s exactly why I attacked that jarhead. You fucking homophobes.”
“Shut the fuck up.” The cops discussed his arrest so he couldn’t hear them, turning up the music on the radio.
From then on Gale was treated like he was the scum of the earth. He tried to sit upright while the cuffs bit into his wrists and ended up sideways with his long legs stretching out over the seat. He could read the little computer screen with his name listed on it. There was a lot of information on that screen and he envisioned it said, ‘aka The Devil.’
The officers were still mocking him. Gale could hear them laugh even over the music and through the Plexiglas divider. They were discussing what they found on the computer, his criminal record.
“Do I get a phone call?”
“Yeah.”
“When?”
“After we take you to the precinct and your paperwork is done.”
“Am I going to stay in jail?”
“What?” The cop leaned closer to the plastic cage to listen, lowering the music.
“Are you taking me to county? Or releasing me from the precinct?” Gale said in anguish at the thought of a night in jail.
“You’re going to jail. Maybe you’ll get lucky.” He snickered.
“Fuck.” Gale tried not to think any longer.
After what felt like an eternity in snarled traffic, he arrived at the north precinct and the handcuffs were removed. While he rubbed his sore wrists, Gale was told to take off all his jewelry and his leather jacket. His boots were checked for weapons, then returned. When the officers had searched him again thoroughly, Gale was locked in a cement holding cell which stunk of piss and was covered in graffiti from something sharp scraping paint off the walls.
An hour of useless waiting later, Gale assumed he would be transported to the King County Jail. An officer appeared hanging paperwork near Gale’s holding cell. “Phone?”
“Yeah. All right.” The cop opened the door with a clang of a deadbolt and pointed. Next to the wall telephone was a list of public defenders and bail bondsman. As he picked up the receiver Gale read his own paperwork for the first time. “Felonious assault?” he said, “I’m screwed.”
“You’re going to want to make that one good phone call.” The cop laughed at Gale.
At the foreboding advice, Gale stood tall and gave a scan around the room, assessing its occupants. The holding area was overflowing with scary looking criminals, all staring back at him from their cages. “Fuck.” Gale felt sick.
Inhaling, trying to think, he dialed and waited. “Hello, Muriel? I’ve been arrested.”
“Gale? What? What happened?”
“I was in a fight. I beat the crap out of some freak that called me a faggot. Muriel, get me the fuck out of here, please.” Cringing, Gale peered over his shoulder as the cop listened in and a few men laughed at him from their cages.
“Oh, dear, oh, dear. Gale. You poor thing. Yes. Have they posted bail? What should I do?”
“No, I haven’t seen a judge or anything yet. It’s the weekend and they’ll probably make me wait, but, Muriel, I can’t wait, you know what I mean? Get me out of here now.” He tried to emphasize his point.
“Oh, dear, oh dear!” she said, “Yes, I know. I understand. Let me make some calls. I’ll be there soon. Hang in there, Gale, dear. The King County Jail, right?”
Gale looked over his shoulder at the impatient cop. “Yes. I’ll most likely be there soon. Please. I’m begging you.”
“Yes, yes. I will. Okay, let me go now.”
Gale hung up, feeling like he was going to throw up as he was returned to his cell.
A half hour later Gale was handcuffed, sitting in a transport van with the other villains. The ride was bumpy and dark and the company he was keeping scared him, not to mention, they stunk. They kept asking him if he was gay and liked it up the ass. Gale kept quiet and didn’t make eye contact.
After an hour of waiting in line at the county jail for booking, Gale’s handcuffs were again removed and he was given a bag with an orange cotton shirt and pants, along with slipper type shoes.
He was led to a changing room. Gale tried to find some privacy. It was a joke. Two guards were waiting, watching. He faced the wall and begged for strength to deal with this mess.
“Let’s go,” Gale heard a guard say. When he spied over his shoulder, everyone was watching him change.
“Fuck. Can you all look the other way? Jesus, it’s not a fucking show.”
That lit up the group of guards and detainees into shouting, whistling, and sarcasm, in an instant.
A guard approached him menacingly. “I told you to change. I won’t ask you again.”
Gale’s hands trembled as he unbuttoned his shirt. Like a hungry pack of jackals, he felt the men behind him and it started making him sweat. He shoved his shirt into the bag they supplied with his name and number on it, then slipped on the shirt provided. One quick peek at all the spectators, and he dropped his leather pants down.
Once again the room erupted in rude catcalls. Gale rarely wore briefs and swore to himself he would from now on. Struggling with the orange pants, finally tying the drawstring, Gale handed off his bag, pushed his hair out of his eyes, glaring at everyone with hatred.
As the group of men filed down the hall Gale held back a guard. “Can I have my own cell?”
“Where the hell do you think you are? The Weston? Let’s go.”
The sinking sensation in his gut grew to nausea. Gale followed the guard down the hall. “What happens now?”
“You’ll wait in a holding cell until we can assign you a bed for the night.”
“Fuck.” Gale wrung his hands in anxiety.
Escorted down a long smelly hall, he found the same six inmates he was booked with all occupying a cement and metal room. Unceremoniously, Gale was handed a brown paper bag and then locked inside. When he opened it, he spotted a cheese sandwich and grew even sicker.
He tossed it in the corner and ran his hands back through his hair. As his uneaten food was efficiently consumed, Gale glanced over his shoulder to see one of the men hovering within his personal aura.
Gale said, “Get the fuck away from me.”
Reeking of stale cigarettes and alcohol, the man stumbled away and then regained his balance letting out manic hysterical laughter. In an instant Gale knew the man was stoned on something stronger than booze.
Unfortunately Gale was becoming the entertainment for the group. The reaction brought another barrage of teasing and rude comments.
Facing a night without end, Gale rested his forehead against the bars and gripped them in his white knuckles, closing his eyes.
He felt another man near him. Showing his teeth in a snarl, Gale turned around expecting the high little dirt-bag. It wasn’t It was a very large, black male. He wasn’t as tall as Gale’s six foot two inch height, but he outweighed him by a hundred pounds. His head was shaved and he had a prison tattoo on his neck. “Oh God.” Gale moaned in fear.
“It’s all right, man, calm down.”
Trying to think straight through this living hell, Gale remembered seeing him back at the north precinct’s holding area. He’d remained passive and quiet the entire time in the background. Gale wondered if the man had been through this routine before so he knew what to expect.
Gale gulped audibly and couldn’t imagine defending himself against this enormous man. The big man inspected Gale’s body. Gale tried to stay strong, but the task was growing more difficult as exhaustion crept in.
As the silence of the cell washed over him, he glanced beyond this man’s broad shoulders at the other five. They were riveted to them. The one little dirt-bag was playing with himself as he watched.
“You need protecting in here.”
Gale’s focus came back to the set of brown eyes close by. Needing a drink, Gale swallowed down a dry throat.
“I could protect you.”
Aware they were all listening, Gale checked the other inmates again. In a grotesque display, the little dirt-bag was jerking off while he stared at him. “Protect me?” Gale asked, “Why would you do that for me?”
Gale was given a bright grin. “You’re not stupid. Why do you think?”
“Oh, fuck.” Hurry, Muriel...hurry, Muriel.
When bizarre sounds reached Gale, he and the big man spun around to find the little dirt-bag being shoved towards the wall by someone before he spurted all over everyone. The little grimy man was making squealing noises and hopping up and down as he jerked off, shooting jizz all over the cell wall.
Wishing he could just blink and they would all vanish, Gale turned to stare out of the cage and closed his eyes again. Catered to by his adoring new bodyguard, his hair and back were stroked soothingly. Gale bit his lip and tried not to cry.
The sound of a metal door opening broke Gale from his meditation. A guard was walking down the hall towards them. Waking up a little from his lethargy, Gale couldn’t imagine what they could do to him next.
“Come on, Prince Charming.”
“Where are you taking me?” Gale backed up as the door was opened.
“Now. Let’s go.” The guard gestured for him to step out. The other six men crowded around the bars to shout and make kissing noises at Gale as he walked away.
As he left the ruckus behind, Gale grimaced in disgust at the crude comments and followed the guard. He felt naked as he walked in the thin cotton trousers.
Gale was handed the bag with his clothing and pointed to a changing room. “I’m getting out?”
No one answered him.
Gale didn’t ask twice and quickly put his own clothing on. He was escorted to a door and exited the lock up into a lobby. He spotted Jonathan conversing on his mobile phone and almost fainted at the sight. Closing the gap between them, Gale was about to ask him what was going on when he caught what Jonathan was saying over his phone.
“I want the whole thing to go away, Bert. I don’t care. As far as you’re concerned it was dropped. That’s the end of it.”
Gale felt tears sting his eyes and couldn’t believe Jonathan had come to his aid. Then it occurred to him. He hadn’t called Jonathan. He had called Muriel.
Just as those thoughts came to him, he heard her voice.
“Oh, my poor baby.”
Gale spun around and found Muriel with her arms reaching out to him. He hugged her tightly, feeling more himself now that he was back in black leather and out of the dungeon. Squeezing her with relief, they rocked together warmly. He wiped at his eyes before they spilled. “I knew I could count on you, Muriel,” he said.
“Of course, my darling.” She caressed his face.
Finished with his call, Jonathan grabbed Gale’s elbow and started to escort him out. “Let’s go.”
At the muscling in on their embrace, Muriel appeared very surprised. Gale didn’t know what to say as she hurried after them, almost having to run to keep up with their long-legged strides.
Without another word of explanation, Jonathan brought Gale outside the jail to his Mercedes which was parked in a loading zone. He opened the car door for Gale.
Catching up, breathless, Muriel said, “I’ll take him home, Jonathan. You’ve really done enough already.” Muriel grabbed Gale’s arm and drew him back.
“No, it’s all right, Muriel, I’ll handle it.” Jonathan gently shoved Gale’s shoulder towards his car.
“That’s not necessary. I wouldn’t want to put you out anymore than I have.” She said aside to Gale, “I had no idea there’d be a debate.”
“No trouble. I assure you.” Jonathan pinched Gale’s arm to force him into the car.
Gale moaned. “Just make a decision. Please.”
Jonathan pushed Gale roughly into the passenger’s seat and shut the door. “I’ll take care of this, Muriel.”
Seeing this was something Muriel never anticipated, Gale cringed and stared at the stunned expression on her face. She was literally gaping in awe as Jonathan climbed into the driver’s side and started the car.
Gale shrugged when Muriel met his eye as if asking for a reason. “Uh, Jonathan? Don’t you think this is going to seem odd to Muriel?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll handle Muriel.”
Not knowing what Jonathan would say to convince Muriel nothing was going on, Gale rubbed his face in exhaustion. They ended up at the Four Seasons hotel at Fourth and Union Street.
On auto-pilot, Gale scuffed into the lobby feeling ready to collapse. He noticed Jonathan wave at him to get away abruptly as he reserved a room at the front desk. Obviously Jonathan didn’t want them to be seen together. All Gale wanted to do was go home. The night was already hellish enough.
He allowed Jonathan to pretend they didn’t know one another and trailed him to their room. Once Gale was inside the suite with Jonathan he closed the door behind him.
“This is how you act? This is how you keep a low profile? By getting yourself arrested and put into jail? What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Shut up. Will you just shut up? Why are you even involved? Why didn’t you let Muriel handle it?”
“She called me. She can’t handle something this big. You have to be joking.”
“You should have let her to take me home. Don’t blame me if she thinks something’s going on.” Gale couldn’t take much more. He started stripping for a shower. After being inside the county jail, he felt as if he was covered in filth.
When he was naked, Gale dragged his heels to the bathroom and turned on the water in the shower. Jonathan followed.
Under the boiling water, Gale tried to scald his skin, removing the sensations from it. Keeping quiet, allowing Gale to wash, Jonathan moved back the sliding door and watched.
As his voyeur lingered in the background, Gale felt darkness inside himself, something he couldn’t brush aside. Like a seeping noxious cloud, he was on the edge of a chasm and the threat of free falling was like hell to him. Everything was out of his control, just like when he was a teen and his mother had introduced him to Satan. Unbelievably he had the exact same sensation washing over and inside him. That constant nausea of the unknown. Being manipulated like a puppet. Doing things he knew were wrong, yet still doing them and feeling the nightmare of guilt and remorse after.
How could he have let her cast spells with him night after night? He never said no and he was afraid to seek help. He was afraid if he did she wouldn’t love him anymore. And his mother was all he had. He didn’t know why, but his father despised him. Every sneer was filled with contempt and hatred. As it took its toll on Gale and he couldn’t concentrate in school and suffered in silence. The agony of his home life kept him constantly distracted. He couldn’t tell his teachers his mother and he worshipped Satan. No way. Not that story.
He lived in constant fear they would find out and he would be placed into a foster home where he’d be diagnosed with a mental illness.
From every side, Gale was disciplined and punished daily for his grades and his attitude. A loner, he never made any friends. On his long walk home after school, he’d wonder what mood his mother would be in this time. Would she be stoned and happy? Or conjure up some shadow demon to torment him?
There was no in-between. He was either treated like a criminal or like a saint. The confusion Gale felt, and still suffered, had pushed him to the brink of a terrible decision on more than one occasion. Here it was again. That same sensation in his mid-section. Ice cold and sickening.
Half aware of his surroundings, Gale shut the water and stood dripping. Frozen in time.
Through his dulled senses, Gale noticed the shower door moving. At the sight a sudden panic overwhelm him; a memory so strong it was being replayed once more before his eyes. The shadow figure was looming, choking him, scratching his skin and trying to suffocate him.
Jonathan asked, “What’s wrong?” He touched a towel to Gale to dry him.
At the contact, Gale flinched in horror and backed away with so much force he hit the tiled wall with a loud bang.
Gasping at the unexpected reaction, Jonathan grabbed after him to prevent him from falling or hitting his head. “Gale. Gale, what’s wrong? Gale.”
“Get away from me. No! Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me!” He wailed, cringing in fear at the imaginary images that came and went from him time and time again.
“Gale. Look at me,” Jonathan said, “You’re safe. You’re not in that cell with those disgusting trolls.” He shook Gale to bring him back to reality.
Slowly becoming aware of the present, Gale stopped struggling and connected to Jonathan’s dilated irises. It felt as if he had just woken from a ghastly nightmare. Gale tried to catch his breath.
Jonathan helped him to stand and led him out of the tub. When Gale was still and calm, Jonathan rubbed a towel through his hair and then wrapped one around him.
“Okay. You’re okay now.” Jonathan squeezed his arms.
“I’m sorry. I…I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m such an idiot.”
“You’ve just been through an ordeal.” Jonathan helped Gale to the bed and drew back the blankets for him.
Gingerly, Gale climbed in, feeling like he’d been run over by a truck. Everything ached.
Once Jonathan was naked he brought Gale close so their bodies were sealed together. And groaning at the comfort, Gale rest his head on Jonathan’s chest and closed his eyes, finally feeling warm and safe.
Jonathan began to caress him.
Though Gale thought he could drift off to sleep, he knew what Jonathan wanted. Payback.
Jonathan rubbed his fingers across Gale’s low abdomen over his tattoo.
Wishing he was loved, Gale felt Jonathan peel back the blanket to watch.
Jonathan snatched Gale’s hand quickly, frightening him.
In the dim light, Jonathan narrowed his eyes as he inspected the underside of Gale’s wrist.
Gale suddenly realized what Jonathan noticed. A scar. A scar that had required stitches.
When Gale felt Jonathan’s thumb drag along the dull line, he blinked lazily. Gale raised his head off the pillow, seeing Jonathan’s pale watery eyes in the light of the moon shining through the sheer curtain.
Jonathan said nothing about the discovery. Gale even got a sense that Jonathan had expected to find it there when he looked. Was there anything he could keep hidden from this man?
Gale had been into cutting himself during his time performing satanic rituals. This cut had gone too far. Gale wasn’t sure it was meant to kill himself. More to just bleed. It felt so nice to bleed.
I’m a tough boy. You can’t hurt a tough boy. Fuck all of you. I don’t need any of you.
“Roll over.”
Apathy once again stabbed him. He obeyed. Was it stupid of Gale to think Jonathan would help him without conditions attached? Yes. With Jonathan it was about control. Gale slowly moved to lie on his stomach.
His legs were urged apart.
You have to be kidding. Not tonight. Not after what I’ve been through.
But Jonathan had gotten rid of his pending charges somehow. Who was Jonathan that he had so much influence over judges? A banker with that kind of pull?
“Agh!” Gale felt the cool tip of the lubrication bottle in his ass. He spun to the nightstand and had no memory of seeing it there. Had Jonathan brought it with him? Gale was so weary, he assumed it was an oversight on his part. He just didn’t remember Jonathan placing the items there.
His hips were drawn higher, off the bed, and Jonathan’s thick dick entered him. Gale peeked at his own limp cock. No way was he going to climax tonight. He was exhausted.
Gale crushed the pillow under his cheek and closed his eyes. I owe him. He did get me out of that place. And this could be someone I do not want fucking me. I do owe him this.
“Yes. You do.”
“Huh?” Gale blinked his eyes open.
Jonathan said nothing more.
Settling into the pillows again, Gale began to get a spark from the friction. His cock twitched. Jonathan pulled out, forced Gale to his back, crushed Gale’s right leg against his chest and thrust in again.
Gale tensed up at the act, but soon relaxed again. This was their normal routine. Jonathan fucking him from every angle until he was good and ready to come. Blue pills. The guy’s gotta be on pills. You can’t fuck like a porn star at fiftysomething.
In the dimness Gale studied Jonathan’s body. Every sinewy muscle appeared under the soft hair on Jonathan’s chest. The hair was a mixture of gray and black and though Jonathan had much more body hair than he did, Gale didn’t think it was excessive. The man was a virile fifty-two year old, not a twink.
Jonathan’s face was angular, clean-shaven. His full head of gray hair was flattering, not giving him the appearance of an old man. Gale wondered if Jonathan used Botox. He had a few ‘laugh lines’ near his eyes, though Gale had never seen Jonathan so much as smile. But Jonathan’s forehead was very smooth. No deep furrows surrounding his mouth either.
The more Gale looked, the stranger the image became. Jonathan appeared to be a man in his thirties with white hair.
His sexual libido was beyond Gale’s belief. The man could fuck for an hour and usually did, spinning Gale around the bed like a top to get him from every direction.
Did you make a deal with the devil, Jonathan?
The split second Gale thought it, Jonathan’s eyes opened and he connected to Gale’s gaze.
Eternal youth? An all day erection? What did you ask for, Mr. Strickland? You already have wealth and power.
Jonathan smoothed his hand over the tattoo pentagram before he gripped Gale’s semi-erect dick.
At the internal and external stimulation, Gale began to rise. The tempo and strength of the rhythm increased to a breathless whirlwind. Gale forced his eyes open when they had closed. Jonathan’s biceps flexed at the action of his hand. The size of his arms, the bulging pectoral muscles on Jonathan’s chest, made Gale think he either took steroids or had one heck of a personal trainer.
Thoughts cleared from his mind as the surge between his legs took priority. “Fuck!” Gale had no idea he could come after such a stressful day. He was wrong.
Sperm shot out of his cock and splashed Gale under his jaw and across his chest. Simultaneously he felt Jonathan’s imposing length pulsate at the deepening penetration.
Jonathan was milking his dick hard, harder than he ever would himself, but it was incredibly stimulating. Another stream of cum emerged, surprising Gale at its quantity and power. The ejaculation brought another blast of pleasure to Gale’s dick and balls. Gale didn’t want Jonathan to stop. “One more.”
A wicked chuckle emerged from Jonathan as he kept jacking Gale’s length like a fiend. Gale’s hips flexed in response to the hard squeezing and tugging on his cock. Another ribbon of spunk flew out across his stomach. “Oh, fuck…” Gale moaned and shook his head in amazement.
When Jonathan released him, Gale felt the echoes of pleasure still vibrating his groin. Watching through a haze, Jonathan climbed off the bed and entered the bathroom.
Gale looked down at his chest, surprised at the amount of cum. “Wow.” He couldn’t move he was so drained.
Jonathan tossed a wet washcloth at him and began to dress.
“No. You’re leaving?”
“We’re leaving unless you want to call a cab.”
“Can’t we hang out and sleep together, Jonathan?” Gale wiped the mess off his skin.
Jonathan didn’t answer, sitting down to put on his shoes.
“Why are you so mean to me?”
The look on Jonathan’s face startled Gale. It was fury. “I just pulled you out of the county hell hole.”
“Yes. Sorry.”
“Sorry?”
“Sorry, sir.” Gale climbed off the bed and picked up his clothing. He kept his eye on Jonathan who appeared impatient.
By the time they were parked near Gale’s apartment at the University District, it was nearing three am. Gale was so over-tired he was awake again.
He asked, “Have you always been gay, Jonathan?” “Yes.”
“Did you have to marry? Just for the look?”
Jonathan frowned and threw the transmission into park roughly, as if this conversation were annoying.
“Is your wife pretty?” Gale craved conversation with him. It felt odd to be strangers and hot lovers at the same time.
“She used to be. Now she’s just a nuisance.”
At that bitter remark, Gale tried to see Jonathan’s expression in the darkness of the front seat of the car. “And you have a son and a daughter? Right? How old are they?”
“Jerry is twenty-two and Tia is eighteen.”
“I’m twenty-three, you know. Just a year older than Jerry.”
“Your point?” Jonathan obviously was becoming irritated.
“Huh? Point? Oh, no point. I always thought fifty was old, but you look really good. I bet if you had dark hair you’d look even younger.”
“Gale.”
“Yes?”
“Goodnight.”
Deflating, Gale unhooked his seatbelt and reached for the door handle.
“Wait.”
Gale spun back, wondering if he’d ever get a goodnight kiss.
“Here.” Jonathan tossed a familiar bank envelope on his lap.
“No. You got me out of jail, Jonathan. You don’t have to—”
“Get out of the car.”
Ice filled Gale’s veins. He picked up the envelope and opened the car door. “You don’t have to be so harsh, Jonathan. I’m not a piece of shit. I can actually fall in love, have feelings.”
“Goodnight, Gale.”
Gale tightened his jaw and shut the car door, watching the Mercedes vanish in the dark. He scuffed his boot heels to his apartment and opened the door, seeing the deteriorating interior and the clutter he needed to tend. Before he undressed, he peeked out of the bedroom window to check on his bike. It was safe and sound.
Removing his jacket, Gale caught movement from the corner of his eye. He reached for the cross and took it off the bedpost, holding it out in the direction of the shadow. “I command you to leave me in peace! In the name of God, go away!” Gale closed his eyes and envisioned a white light surrounding him. A clattering noise reached his ears. He jumped in fright. His motorcycle helmet was still rolling where it had hit the floor but nothing was near it.
“Jesus, help me!” Gale held the cross up higher. “Go back to hell, you demon! Leave me alone!”
Something tugged his hair and the temperature in the room dropped until Gale’s teeth were chattering from the cold and his arms covered in goose bumps.
Gale turned around looking for the apparition. “No! I got rid of you years ago! You are forbidden to come back into my life.” He pressed the cross into his tattoo. “Holy Father, Son of God, I beg you to help me. Rid me of this demon from hell.”
A ripple of something hot rushed over his face. The sense of dread lessened. Gale held the cross to his chest and closed his eyes. Listening.
The evil presence left.
Gale brought the cross to his lips and said a prayer of thanks. He hung the rosary back on his bed and made sure he was ‘alone’ before washing up for bed.
Chapter 12

The next day Gale fastened his leather chaps over his black denim jeans; black boots, black gloves, black jacket, his comforting leather apparel.

He straddled his bike and snapped the chin strap of his helmet. The Harley Davidson thundered and he sat a moment to feel the vibration through his body. After allowing it to rev high, he kicked it down and paused a moment to think.

A car pulled close to his front tire. Muriel was behind the wheel. She rolled the window down. “I’m glad I caught you. I called you all night but you didn’t answer. Did you unplug the phone?”

“No. I was out late after I was released from jail. Sorry.” “Please shut that thing off. Do I have to scream over it?” Muriel emerged from her car, fixing her red wig and straightening her pleated skirt over her knee-high boots.
Gale turned the key, shutting off the engine, and rested his foot on the gas tank.
Muriel touched his leather arm tenderly. “How are you since your ordeal? I’ve been worried sick.”
“I’m fine, Muriel.” Staring into her plump face, examining the make-up she used to conceal her skin, the bright red of her lipstick, Gale wondered how long it took her to get ready in the morning.
“Good. I was surprised Jonathan wanted to drive you home. When I called him for help, I assumed he’d simply make some calls. I had no idea he’d come to the jail to pick you up.”
“Was there something you wanted?” Gale figured Jonathan had made a mistake last night, insisting he give him a ride instead of allowing Muriel to do it. But Gale couldn’t control Jonathan.
“What’s this?” She grasped his arm and exposed his watch from his leather sleeve.
“It’s a watch. Muriel, what do you want?” His patience was waning at her interrogation. Muriel had too much psychic ability to not already know something was going on between him and the rich banker known as Jonathan Strickland. Jonathan had made sure of that last night.
“It’s a Rolex. When did you get that?” She couldn’t stop staring at it.
“You didn’t come here to ask me about my watch.” He was becoming exasperated.
“No. I didn’t.” Finally breaking her trance on it, she said, “Your mother wants to see you again.”
An ice ball filled his stomach instantly. “Tell her to leave me alone.”
“If that’s what you wish, Gale. She just wants you to give her a ride home after a formal dinner this evening.”
He set his boot down on the pavement and grumbled. “Why me?”
“Melvin is going out of town and will have the limousine. She’s planning on drinking and didn’t want to drive the car.”
“Tell her to call a cab. Or you pick her up. I only have my bike.”
“I will if you won’t. I told her you wouldn’t see her again.”
“Right,” he replied, almost to himself, wishing his mother could be an ally in getting rid of the shadow demons. After all, it was her fault he had conjured them up.
“You two shouldn’t see one another. I’ll make up something for you, Gale.”
As Muriel turned to walk to her car, Gale said, “No. Wait.”
Muriel pivoted around slowly.
Though the idea made him ill, he said, “When…uh…when should I pick her up? And where?”
A wry smile on her red lips, Muriel moved closer to him. Sensuously she leaned her body against his right leg as it straddle the bike, smoothing her hand along his leather arm. “Eleven pm, tonight, at The Club in Bellevue.”
His emotions going haywire at the bad decision, Gale wanted to see his mom again to talk to her. Maybe if he told her about the shadow demons, she would help.
As he prepared to go Gale flipped the helmet visor down with a click.
“I’ll let your mother know you’ll pick her up. So? When can you stop by again?”
Gale started the motor. Muriel backed up involuntarily from the sound.
“I’ll call you.” He took the bike off its kickstand. “Goodbye, Muriel.” Gale rolled back from her BMW and accelerated at high speed down the block.
~
Gale spent the day looking for a better apartment to rent.
The slum he lived in at the moment was filled with demonic creatures and bad spirits. Obviously his protection circle was failing and he needed to move. Besides, he had nearly two thousand in cash. That had to be a two month deposit for rent for something better than a shoddy dive in the low rent area of the college district.
Gale walked to where he had left his bike in the parking lot on East Pike and Madison.
At a scraping of a shoe near him, Gale started in surprise to find a man lighting up a cigarette in the stiff breeze. He grew anxious as the man squinted through a cloud of exhaled smoke and drew nearer.
“You Gale Hansen?”
“Who’s asking?”
The man stepped closer, inspecting Gale. He smirked. “My. Aren’t you a pretty one?”
Snarling, about to get violent, Gale’s temper rose as he thought about the incident on The Ave yesterday with the skinhead. “What the fuck do you want?”
After the man took his time inhaling and exhaling the nicotine, he asked, “Do you know Jonathan Strickland?”
Gale responded, “No. I don’t know him.”
“Come on. Don’t you know him intimately?” He gave Gale a sexually charged glance at his crotch.
Wishing he had the resources to handle his life, and this part of it in particular, Gale went pale. “Who are you?”
The man took another drag of his cigarette and made a deliberate walk around Gale to inspect him from the back as well.
Gale was very uncomfortable with the appraisal. “I asked who you are.”
The man admired the Harley Davidson leisurely. He took another drag of his cigarette. “I’m not at liberty to divulge that information.”
Hating the way this man was leering at him, Gale tried to get over the sense of vulnerability. “Well, I don’t know this whatever-his name is, and you’ve got the wrong guy.”
“You’re not convincing me. I know he got you out of county lock up last night.” The man gave Gale another once over. “And judging by your delicious virility and youth?” He inhaled his cigarette and blew smoke rings which quickly dissipated in the breeze. “You guys are lovers.”
Gale grabbed the man’s collar and lifted him off his feet, shoving him into the brick wall of a building. “Don’t start nasty rumors. You might find yourself dead.”
The man made a move to his jacket, revealing a shoulder holster.
Gale watched the gesture and said, “I have nothing to lose, man. Don’t push me.” Gale released him.
The man moved away from the wall and brushed his jacket off, straightening out his collar. “No problem, Gale Hansen. No problem at all.” He flicked his cigarette into the street.
More frightened by the calm demeanor of this guy than if he picked a fight, Gale panicked. “Please. I don’t know anything. I don’t know the man you’re asking about.”
“Sure ya don’t. Wealthy bank owners bail out leather punks from jail all the time.” Spinning his car keys on his finger smugly, the man licked his lips. “Too bad I’m not gay. You’ve got nothing to bribe me with, do you, Gale Barabbas Hansen?”
An icy chill washed over his skin making Gale shiver. Only his mother knew his middle name. And he detested it so he told no one. Who wanted to be known as the son of shame?
“Though I’ll bet you give a hell of a blowjob, eh, Hansen?” After one more sweep of his entire body, the man gave a wicked laugh and walked away.
Trembling in his boots, Gale watched this man leave, hating the smirk on his lips. When he vanished, driving a dark sedan, Gale started to sweat.
What on earth was going to happen now? Who was trying to expose them? If Gale had to guess, it was most likely Jonathan’s wife. Or maybe someone who had a grudge against the bank and all its foreclosures. Perhaps an angry member of the bank’s board vying for power. Whatever it was, Gale knew a story like this would be huge.
The Seattle Times would make it front page news. Wouldn’t Frank Pasco love it?
Controlling his shaking limbs, Gale sat on his bike and started to think seriously about telling Jonathan. He had to. Goodbye money? No. No way. “I’ll milk this as long as I can.” Gale bit his lip. “After all, Mr. Strickland, you thought coming to the county jail last night was a wise idea. How cocky are you?”
Gale put his helmet on and decided to drown his sorrows at the nearest bar.
He sat at the counter and ordered a beer. A television was broadcasting the news in the background. “Thanks.” Gale slid a ten dollar bill across the bar when he got his drink. As he sipped it, he watched the television news with closedcaptioning under the broadcast. The noise of music was very loud around him.
A picture was shown on the screen. Gale recognized the man. It was a senator named Kipp Kensington. Last summer Kipp came out at the San Francisco Gay Pride Festival. A married republican senator openly admitted he was gay on national TV. Gale recalled that incident like it was yesterday. The man showed off his lover that day. Robin Grant.
Just as Gale thought about him, Robin’s picture appeared on the newscast. Gale read the subtitled story. ‘…now a member of the Democratic Party, Senator Kipp Kensington is pushing for legalization of gay marriage in the state of California. He has announced he is now engaged to his male lover, Robin Grant…’
Gale smiled sadly. “Lucky Robin. I don’t think my older male lover will be coming out any time soon.” Wiping the foam off his lip, Gale lowered his head when the commercial interruption began. He twirled the coaster in a circle wondering how come some guys had all the luck and ended up falling madly in love?
Not me. Nope. Stuck with devils surrounding me. I’m afraid love isn’t one of Satan’s specialties.
Chapter 13
Friday night at eleven o’clock Gale pulled his bike in front of the Corinthian columns and imitation gas lamps at The Club in Bellevue as promised.

He removed his helmet and shook out his hair, seeing it flow down his leather shoulders. Silver chains glittered from his every limb while red-coated employees were deciding whether to call security.

Yes. Okay. I look worse than I am. Sheesh, people. I’m not as demonic as I appear.
Gale caught his refection in the large glass pane he was parked in front of. Maybe he did appear demonic. It was hard for him to be objective when it came to his own aura. He fell into his comfort zone. And riding a bike required leather gear or you’d leave your flesh on the tarmac.
Why is it people feel intimidation and fear the moment I show up?
Gale knew the answer to that. He had dark creatures attached to him by string-like webs.
That’s why he was where he was at the moment. He needed his mother to help him form a protection circle. He knew no one else who could do it as well as she did.
Patty flew out to him like a lost lover, her gown trailing on the cement.
By her demeanor, Gale assumed she was either high or drunk. This was a very bad idea. Gale glanced up at the growing crowd who watched the spectacle from behind the glass like it was a reality TV episode.
When Gale spotted Jonathan’s face in the crowd, he almost fainted from surprise.
That connection never occurred to him. His mom and dad to Muriel, Muriel to Jonathan? It was only three degrees of separation haunting him. And the look of fury on Jonathan was hard for Gale to decipher. Jealousy? What? Do you think I came here to expose our affair? Did that little irritating man with the cigarette let you know he knows about us?
“All right, sweetie.” Patty swung her leg over the back of the Harley’s seat.
Gale thought he heard her gown tear and winced. Why did I come? “Are you too drunk to ride?”
“No.”
Gale rubbed his eyes tiredly as he sat idling the bike. He felt her arms encircling his waist. “Why did you do this to me? Couldn’t you take a cab or have one of your ritzy friends drive you home?” He tried to stay rational when his impulse was to go crazy. Gale shook his head. “Mom…”
“Just go, Gale. Go.” She rocked against him, as if willing the bike to move.
Inhaling, trying to stay sane, Gale met Jonathan’s gaze through the glass, opened his lips and said Jonathan’s name, but no sound came out, yet Gale could see it was understood by his benefactor. I should tell him about the little man with the cigarette to warn him.
But Jonathan forbade him to call, so Gale couldn’t.
“What are you waiting for?” Patty asked.
At a loss as to how to react with Jonathan watching, Gale felt as if he had no choice. He turned away from Jonathan’s hypnotizing gaze. “Fine. Whatever. Here. You have to put this on.” Gale handed her the spare helmet, helping her snap the strap under her chin.
His own helmet in place, Gale revved the engine as he glanced back at the glass. Through the reflections he caught Jonathan’s eye once more. Gale bit his lip and started moving the bike out of the winding drive.
When he hit the open road, Gale heard his mother’s shriek of exhilaration. He glanced over his shoulder as they took the highway ramp to the 520 bridge. Her grip tightened around his waist as the speed increased.
Gale was trying to think. It was impossible to think straight when life kept throwing him curves. Sighing unhappily, he kept telling himself; this is the hand that is dealt, play the cards, play the cards.
Behind him, Gale felt his mother shift on the seat. “Hold on.” He growled. “God damn it. Don’t lean too far to the side.” He heard her wild laugh.
“Gale, keep going. Go as far as you can on the tank of gas and when we stop we’ll be miles away from everyone.”
“Yeah, right,” he mumbled under his breath. “Hold on, damn it,” he shouted in the wind, struggling to drive carefully and mind her at the same time.
Hearing her incantations as she pressed her body against his, Gale accelerated faster, pushing the needle passed one hundred miles an hour over the Evergreen Point Bridge. As the g-force hit her, she tucked her hand tightly underneath his thighs to prevent flying off the back.
He knew it was useless and dangerous to fight her. She always had her fucking way.
Moments later, Gale rode onto an immense driveway of a mansion in the Broadview area of North Seattle and ground to a halt. Shutting the motor, he hopped off like a jackrabbit, homicide on his mind. He was panting in fury and ground his teeth at her silly grin.
Ignoring his anger, she tipped off the helmet and tossed it onto the grass.
“I was driving on a highway.” He snarled. “Was that your way of trying to get us killed?” He yanked off his helmet and threw it angrily.
Still sitting on the bike, she searched her clutch purse and removed a hand-rolled joint. Flicking a lighter, she lit it and stared at him through the smoke. “You get a hard-on from my hand?”
He dragged his fingers through his hair. “Do you think this is fun? Torturing me? I was driving on the fucking highway. And I’m your fucking son not your BFF.”
“Watch your mouth.”
“Watch my mouth?” Gale gaped at her in astonishment. “You’ve fucking lost it. What the hell is the matter with you? Stop smoking that shit.” Gale whacked the joint out of her hand violently.
It stunned her at first, then she climbed off the bike and moved towards him. It was then Gale noticed she was missing her shoes and was in her stocking feet. He scrubbed his eyes like his head ached and cried. “Why me? Oh, God, why me?”
As if the things she did weren’t even remotely odd, she stood directly in front of him, looking up at his height innocently. “What’s wrong, my love?”
He backed away from her. “Stay away from me. I’ve never hit you, Mother, but that doesn’t mean I won’t.”
“You never used to say that to me. You and I used to do very fun things together? Remember?”
“You make me want to kill you.” He growled, barely holding back his temper. “I will never forgive you for what you did to me.” Gale said, “I want your help in getting rid of all those ‘fun things’ you saddled me with.”
Her smile faltered.
“I’m haunted. Do you get it? The shadow demons won’t leave me alone.” He watched her shiver. “Get inside before you get sick.” Like a disciplinarian, he pointed to the front door of her house.
When she just stood there in a trance, Gale grabbed her purse from her and dug for the keys. Sickened by the amount of drug paraphernalia in it, he located them and opened the door. “Get inside.”
Transformed into the guilty little girl, Patty walked by him, her head lowered.
Before he closed them in, he leaned out and searched the area. He wasn’t sure for what. A demon? The police? Satan?
“Look,” he said as he addressed her. She was gone. “Mom?” In acute paranoia Gale started turning on lights, thinking that he was in a house with a total lunatic. “Where the hell are you?”
Frantically hunting, he finished searching the bottom floor and headed up to check the top. Like he was in a bloody horror film, Gale had a vision of her hiding behind a wall with an axe and crept warily. “Mother. Answer me.”
She appeared from behind the darkness of a door. Gale grabbed his chest at the suddenness of spotting her, then he realized she’d changed her clothing. Her gown was gone and she was in her black ‘bewitching’ robe. “Oh, no. No you don’t. Jesus Christ, help me.”
He tripped as he backed away from her, seeing a pentagram symbol dangling from her clenched hand.
“Don’t do this to me. Mom! Do you have any idea how hard I’m fighting to get these demons out of my life? Are you insane?”
“Father of darkness…King of Hades…open up the door.”
“No! No!” Gale fell as he hit a wall running away from her. “I came to you for help in a protection circle! Mom! Help me get rid of this shit, don’t call them here!”
She dove on him and raised his shirt up his stomach, pushing the charm in her hand into his tattoo. He felt as if it were burning him. Gale screamed and tried to kick his mother off him.
Her voice was raspy and distant. “Don’t you love me anymore, Gale? He’ll make you love me.”
“Jesus Christ, hear my prayer,” he cried. “Close the portal! Close the door!”
“Through justice in your dominion, let him be taken.”
“Get the hell away from me!” Gale couldn’t believe he was actually fighting with her. “I swear I’m going to hurt you. Stop!”
Patty was lying over Gale, trying to pin him down under her.
The burning of the amulet on his pentagram tattoo was growing unbearable.
Gale screamed in agony and spotted a flash of something black whiz by. He shielded his face in terror and heard his father’s voice through his dulled senses.
Melvin grabbed Patty and wrenched her backwards.
Gale caught his breath, panting hard. Finally he managed to stand up. “She’s a fucking devil! She’s lost her mind. Get her the hell away from me, Dad.”
At Gale’s accusations, Patty began a string of demonic curses while Melvin did his best to calm her down. “Get her pills. She has sedatives in the medicine cabinet.”
Reacting to the suggestion, Gale sprinted to the bathroom and dug through the piles of prescription medications. In confusion, he brought anything with his mother’s name on it and allowed his father to tell him when he held up the correct one.
Gale’s hands shook in spasms while he filled a glass with water. They nearly had to force it down Patty’s throat. After she swallowed it she settled down, looking defeated.
Melvin stood back and wiped his sweaty face with his sleeve. Once it appeared things had returned to normal, Melvin dragged Patty to her bedroom and put her in bed.
Standing in the doorway as his dad took care of his mother, Gale didn’t believe any of this. He felt like either punching a wall or crying. He couldn’t decide which. Assuming he was done with the fiasco now that his father was here, Gale turned to leave.
“Gale.”
At the sound of his mother’s weak voice, Gale peeked over his shoulder as she beckoned to him. Not wanting to be drawn in again, Gale shot a quick glance at Melvin as Melvin tucked his business shirt into his trousers and got himself back together after the struggle.
Gale moved to her bed.
“We can never play our games again, can we? It can never be like it was.”
“No. Never,” he replied, shaking his head.
“No. Of course not. You’re older now. You can decide not to love me anymore.”
Oh fuck you. Gale hate the little guilt games she played.
“Gale?” She waited for an answer and reached out her hand.
Hesitantly he clasped it. “I still love you. You just need help. Okay?”
Like he was some kind of saint, Patty kissed Gale’s hand. He restrained the urge to jerk it away. “I have to get the hell out of here,” he said mostly to himself.
Melvin met Gale in the hall. “This started ever since she saw you at Muriel’s place weeks ago. You never should have met with her.”
“Oh, fucking blame me.”
“I’m not blaming you. But you should have known better.”
Having no idea why everything his mother did was inevitably his fault according to his father, Gale watched him light a cigarette with trembling hands. “I had no clue she was still into it. I thought it would be okay to just talk to her.”
Stifling a sad laugh, Melvin blew out the smoke and peeked back at the bedroom door. “I’m going to check her into Harborview. I can’t sit by while she self-destructs.”
Gale laughed ironically. His mother wasn’t the only one who was self-destructing. “Mom told Muriel you weren’t going to be here. That you were out of town.”
“I was. I managed to get back early.”
“Thank fuck.”
“Thank fuck.” Melvin shook his head.
~
Dead on his feet by the time he got home, dragging himself the last few steps inside his apartment, Gale heard the phone ringing.
Its insistence forced him to react. “Yeah? What?” He listened and didn’t hear anything on the other end. “Hello?” The caller ID read, ‘unknown caller’.
Straining to catch a sound coming through the phone, Gale heard someone breathing heavily on the other end. He thought it may be his mother. Before he could ask, the line went dead. In anger, Gale slammed the phone down and went into the kitchen for a beer. Finding one in an almost empty refrigerator, he twisted off the cap and flipped it out of the partially opened window over the sink, hearing it rattle around on the dumpster below. With a thirst he could not quench, he guzzled it down and then stood in a daze, trying to think.
A stinging pain distracted him. He parted his jacket and picked up his shirt. Three raised red wheals were marked over his tattoo. The mocking of the trinity. It’s how the demons got their kicks. The burning he felt from the rising flesh was growing intolerable.
The phone rang again. At first he glared at it, then thought it may be Jonathan. With high expectations, Gale picked it up once more. “Hello?”
Again it was silent.
“Who the fuck is this?” he asked. Nothing returned. “What the hell do you want?” Once more he heard a trace of a human breath. “Fuck you.” Almost breaking the phone as he slammed it down, he finished the beer with one more swallow, then tossed the bottle into the garbage under the sink. Gale grabbed another one and poured it into an iced mug, then went to his bedroom to get undressed and rest.
Setting the beer on the dresser, he took off his jacket and flopped heavily on the bed. After a deep breath to try and destress, he glanced up and caught sight of the leather hood as it stared back at him with hollow eyes. He’d only worn it once. It scared the hell out of the guy and he never went out with Gale again.
Clenching his teeth as he thought about it, Gale wanted to wear it and beat the shit out of someone, then fuck them raw.
The phone rang. Before he replayed that annoying scene of answering it to no one, Gale turned to the extension on the night table and roared as he pulled the cord out of the wall. The one in the kitchen beating against his head breathing fire as he stormed over to it.
He was in no mood for this. No mood! Before he wrenched it from the wall, he grabbed the receiver one last time. “Hello?” Nothing. “You listen to me you goddamn motherfucker. If I ever find out who this is—” The line went dead. In fury, Gale tore the wire out of the outlet and threw the phone against a wall.
Gale stood still in the silence feeling horribly alone, panting to catch his breath. Then, as the exhaustion and isolation crept up on him, he sank slowly to the floor and collapsed. Breaking down, sick of living, Gale covered his face and felt his chest rise with heaving sobs.
persisted. At that repetitive ring like a burglar alarm, Gale was Chapter 14

It was too early on a Saturday morning for the telephone to be ringing. Muriel was still in bed, the clouds obscuring the morning sun as it did nearly every day in Seattle.

Her maid poked her head into her bedroom. “It’s Melvin Hansen, Mrs. Brown.”
“Oh. Okay. Thank you, Martha.” Muriel sat higher on her pillows and picked up the cordless phone on her nightstand. “Hello, Melvin.”
“Muriel, I can’t seem to reach Gale. Can you let him know if he contacts you that I’ve checked Patty into Harborview hospital? The doctors mentioned they wanted to speak to him and I gave them his phone number.”
“I do think it’s wise, Melvin. Patty has fallen off the wagon and needs detox.”
“She’s back into her old pattern, Muriel. Drugs, devil worship, the works. I thought that was all in the past.”
“I think sometimes these things have a way of coming back if you open a door. You know what I mean?”
“And the door was opened by you. How many times have I begged you to keep Gale away from her?”
Muriel blinked at the rebuking. “All right, Melvin. I apologize. I had no way of knowing one simple meeting would be so injurious.”
“It was.”
“Sorry. I’ll swing by Gale’s place and let him know. He sometimes refuses to answer his phone.”
“Fine.” The line disconnected.
Muriel replaced the telephone into its cradle. “It’s not my fault, Melvin. Stop blaming me. Your wife nags me every day to see her son.”
Muriel dressed, fixed her makeup, putting her favorite Dolly Parton blonde wig on her head. She located her car keys and grabbed her fur coat on her way out.
After a twenty minute drive, Muriel pulled her car behind Gale’s apartment building, hoping to find an open parking space. Gale’s Harley was parked in its spot under his bedroom window.
After peering through the sheer curtain of the front glass, Muriel rapped on his door and waited. Hearing nothing from inside, she knocked once again, harder, and called out his name. Still having no success, Muriel pounded until her knuckles were sore, finally hearing the latch click. While Muriel pushed the door open Gale was already on his way back to the bedroom.
She caught sight of his naked ass for just a second as he disappeared. Muriel relocked the door and followed him.
“I intend on sleeping all day,” he said as he crawled back under the covers and borrowed into the pillows.
Taking in the state of his room, Muriel sat down on Gale’s bed and removed her sunglasses. “Gale, sweetie, Melvin called me to let you know that Patty was checked into the hospital. He mentioned the doctors may try to call you about her.”
After placing her sunglasses on his nightstand, Muriel rested her hand lightly on his hip, only the warm sheet between them.
He rolled over and shielded his eyes from the glare of the overcast light streaming into the room. When Gale moved, Muriel’s hand conveniently slid to his thigh. “Melvin said he tried to call you and there was no answer.”
As if still struggling to wake up, Gale rubbed his face and yawned, stretching his back, reaching over his head.
Trying to be discreet, Muriel observed the covers pull away from his lovely chest. Never having him in this position before, at least not to her memory, Muriel took advantage of it and caressed his thigh lightly, scooting closer on the pretext of talking more personally with him. “What are you going to do now?”
“Do?” Gale narrowed his eyes at her. “What do you mean?”
“I mean today, tomorrow. What are you doing for money, Gale?” In what she hoped Gale would perceive as maternal, Muriel continued to stroke his leg lightly. “How are you getting by?”
“I’m okay.” As her ring-covered hand moved closer to his privates, he glimpsed down at it warily.
“Are you working?” She wondered if he minded being touched.
“No. Look, Muriel, I appreciate the concern and all.” He yawned. “But I want to go back to sleep.”
“If you’re not working where are you getting the money to live on and to buy a fancy watch?” As her words grew more accusing, she stilled her hand and squeezed his hip. “Look, honey, you know you can come to me if you’re in trouble. Are you seeing someone right now?”
“I’m not seeing anyone.”
Muriel knew he was lying. She had an idea Jonathan was keeping him well financed and was infuriated Jonathan had beaten her to it. But Gale was gay. How was Muriel supposed to compete with that?
Like a spider, she moved her right hand and placed it on the opposite side of him on the mattress, so she was lying across his body. “Darling, you’re not being honest with your dear friend. She wants to know who this man is that’s supplying you with the fancy timepiece and cash. Is he the same man who got you out of jail?”
“Stop acting jealous. You called Jonathan, not me. I called you. Remember?”
“You get away with murder with those incredible looks of yours, don’t you?”
He appeared shy.
Loving it, Muriel slid both her hands down his sides and squeezed him playfully. At the tickling, Gale squirmed away from her mischievous fingers. She craved Gale’s body, his heat and his attention. Muriel continued the silliness until Gale was gasping for breath from the laughter and trying to catch her hands.
All the while she kept a tight smile on her lips and savored the warm skin she was touching. In her sly way, she had managed to get the sheet down to his hips and was handling his bronze body in an innocent gesture of fun. It was tormenting her to a frenzy, but she knew once she stopped, there would be no more pretense for the contact. The satanic tattoo became exposed. Muriel noticed three red scratches across it. A sign he had been assaulted by a demon entity.
“I’m too drained for the teasing, Muriel.” Gale tried to find her hands to hold them off. “Stop,” he whined, “Come on. I can’t take it anymore.” He caught her wrists finally, catching his breath.
Without the slightest hint of discretion, Muriel stared at Gale’s revealed flesh. His dark pubic hair was visible low on his pelvis. Grinding her teeth in yearning, Muriel wanted desperately to find the courage to lean down and kiss the flat plane of his abdomen. But how could she justify it, especially after the news about his mother? Did she scratch you, my pet?
~
In the long awkward pause, Gale waited, examining her. The game had come to a halt and a more serious one had begun. “Muriel,” he said in a tone that meant he was pleading with her to be good.
And at that slight scold, Muriel raised her eyes to his. He read plainly the longing of her desire. Gale said, “Let me take a shower and we’ll go out for breakfast. Okay?”
It was over. Her little tickle session. Once again Muriel hid her pent up desire successfully, smiled and sat back, folding her hands onto her lap in a saintly gesture. “That would be lovely.”
Paranoid of her getting a good look at what, to date, she had never actually seen, Gale gathered the sheets and sat up. He wrapped it around his waist awkwardly and stood, kissing the top of her head on his way to the shower.
“I’ll straighten the apartment while you get ready.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“My pleasure. This place is a mess, sweetie.”
“I know.”
She threw him a kiss and left the room.
~
After spending the entire day with Muriel, Gale stood in front of his apartment, struggling to find the right key. Gale realized the reason he was having a problem. The light outside his door had gone out. Thinking nothing of it, Gale turned the latch and pushed the door open when suddenly he spotted something odd.
He stepped back to get a better look, still battling with the lack of light. Gale turned on an inside lamp and used the ambient brightness to see.
There, on his front door, was spray-painted in red an inverted pentagram. “Oh, no. No.”
Gale looked over his shoulder to the darkened street. It was vacant.
After getting over the initial shock, he scanned around inside and outside his apartment to check if anything else was wrong.
His windows were left unlatched, some partway open. In his opinion, he didn’t own anything worth stealing and it helped lessen the mold smell.
Trying to take inventory just in case he was burglarized, Gale walked in and out of the three rooms, taking off his jacket as he inspecting his humble abode. Everything else appeared to be in its place. Muriel had cleaned up, including vacuuming and plugging the phones back in. The apartment looked livable once more.
Gale sat down at the Formica table to think about it. The first suspect on his list was his mother. But wasn’t she in a psychiatric ward in Harborview? Was that like jail? Did she have guards watching her?
When the phone rang, Gale jumped out of his skin. He let it ring. Why answer it? He knew no one would be at the other end. Staring at it, knowing in reality it could be anyone, after the fifth ring Gale picked up the receiver and just listened.
“Hello?” said an irritated male voice.
“Jonathan?”
“Why didn’t you say hello when you picked it up?”
“Sorry. Long story. Where do you want to meet?”
“Look. Gale.”
Gale didn’t like the sound of his voice. It sent off an alarm. In agony, he sat up in the chair. “What happened?”
“Did you mention our affair to anyone?”
“No, Jonathan. I never would.”
The silence on the other end drove Gale mad. “Please. I have to see you again. I can’t stop seeing you right now. Okay?” Gale had no one. Even the little bit of contact he had with Jonathan was paramount importance to him. It was a release. Yes, a sexual one, but it still was physical touch.
More silence passed.
“Please, Jonathan, Not yet.”
“Gale…if you have told someone about our affair—”
“I haven’t. Why don’t you believe me?”
“Don’t make this ridiculous. You obviously have.”
“Fuck you. Fuck everyone! I don’t need anyone. Do you hear me? I don’t need anyone!” Gale slammed the phone down and tore the cord from the wall. The heartbreak in him excruciating, Gale yanked the phone out of the plug from all the phones again in misery.
His tears blinding him, he opened the refrigerator and grabbed the last beer. Flipping the cap out of the kitchen window, Gale heard it clang on the dumpster below.
“Fuck him. Fuck everybody. I hate this shit.” Helpless, sickened by everything hitting him at once, he slammed his beer down and crossed his arms over his chest. The foam erupted and ran down the neck.
So, big deal, Jonathan doesn’t believe me, doesn’t want me anymore. Big fricken’ deal. But it stung hard. He never thought it would end so abruptly.
Gale wiped his face with his shirttail and checked the freezer for an iced mug. He poured the beer into it and opened a bottle of vodka, filling it to the top.
In the quiet of his kitchen, Gale heard a noise outside his window and tried to see through the glare of the overhead kitchen light.
Before he got the chance to take a good look, there was the sound of someone pounding on his front door. As the names of likely intruders ran through his mind, he set his mug down on the kitchen table and went to answer it.
Gale swung it open to find Jonathan standing there. The Mercedes parked boldly out front.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Gale gasped.
Jonathan was about to reply when he noticed the pentagram spray-painted on the door. “That will only bring trouble.”
Gale’s expression turned fierce. “And you just showed up. What a coincidence.”
Jonathan glanced behind him and shoved Gale back from the door, closing it. “Did you tell anyone about us? Gale! You have to tell me now.”
“Fuck your talk. You made it clear on the phone you don’t believe anything I say. What did you come here for? To rub it in? You did the right thing. I’m a worthless piece of shit. You can’t possibly ruin your life for me. Now get the hell out of here before I get violent.”
“Gale, did a man claiming to know about us contact you?”
“Who cares? It’s over now. So don’t worry. I won’t blackmail you. Get out of my sight. Go! Don’t you know you can’t be seen with me? It’ll ruin you. Are you hearing what I’m saying?”
Jonathan grabbed Gale’s arm. “Did you talk to him? What did you say?”
Crazed by all the events that had occurred in the last twenty-four hours, Gale heaved him back with a growl. “Leave. Okay? I didn’t tell the guy anything. He already knew everything. He told me I knew you.” Gale threw up his hands. “I denied it but it was useless.”
“That’s it? That’s all that happened?”
Gale showed his teeth in a snarl. “No, not all. He told me it was too bad he wasn’t gay because I probably give good head.”
Jonathan shook Gale by the shoulders. “Don’t you have sex with anyone but me. You got that?”
“Oh? You mean become celibate? Stop fucking because now you’re going to ditch me? What am I? An idiot?’
Jonathan looked back at the closed front door. “Get undressed.”
“You want it?” Gale choked in awe. “You want it?” Without a thought, he grabbed Jonathan painfully by his upper arm and dragged him into his bedroom. Enough of the helplessness. It was Gale’s turn for control. And he was going to take it.
With all his force, Gale threw Jonathan down on his bed. As he hit with a bounce, Jonathan stared back at Gale in amazement.
Gale fell on Jonathan and used his handcuffs to secure Jonathan’s arms behind his back after an intense struggle.
All the while Jonathan kept demanding, “Stop this at once. You’re being absurd, Gale. Just calm down and obey me!”
Once Jonathan was shackled, Gale stood back and pushed the hair out of his eyes, the tears streaming down his face. “What’s wrong, Jonathan? Isn’t this what you want? Don’t you want an affair that’s going to ruin your career and your life? Well? I’ll ruin you.” Gale spun around and grabbed the leather mask. About to put it on himself, instead Gale pulled it over Jonathan’s head. In reality, Gale couldn’t stand to see his expression any longer.
Gale was determined to end the relationship, knowing it was inevitable. He hoped to get Jonathan so angry that he simply would never call again.
Catching his breath, Gale stepped back as Jonathan peered out of that horrid black mask. In some sick demonic way, Gale found it a turn on. This play, this act with him taking the lead for a change. “It’s about time.”
Laughing wickedly at Jonathan, Gale took off his own shirt, standing tall in his leather pants and boots. With little effort, he shoved Jonathan back and tugged his trousers down, flipping him over. “How do you like feeling helpless, Jonathan? Should I make you call me sir?”
When Gale had stripped Jonathan of his lower garments Gale said, “I need to savor this one. It’ll be our last. Don’t move or you’ll regret it.”
He headed to the kitchen to retrieve his drink. It was dark in the room and he tried to recall if he had turned off the lights. “I’m insane.” Gale refused to let trivia distract him as he brought his mug back to the bedroom with him and took a large swallow of the beer and vodka mixture.
Biting his upper lip, he stared down at Jonathan. “It’s time I weaned you off me, Strickland. I don’t think you’ll want it after this.”
Gale downed the contents of the mug and put it aside, opening his leather pants, exposing his erection. Gale picked up a leather strap and ran it through his hands before he used it. “Like to be whipped, sir?” Gale wondered why Jonathan did nothing. He didn’t speak a word or struggle. He lay still as stone.
“What’s wrong, Strickland? Devil got your forked tongue?” Gale licked his finger and ran it over the tattoo on his stomach.
Jonathan watched through the slit eyes of the leather hood as Gale performed his ‘ritualistic act’.
Gale never heard a word spoken from behind the closed silver zipper covering Jonathan’s mouth. Where was the tough drill sergeant now? Come on, baby…doncha wanna fight?
As his excitement grew, Gale opened his pants wider on his pelvis and jacked his cock a few times.
Then, out of nowhere, he felt a wave of dizziness wash over him and stilled himself to wait for it to pass. It didn’t.
A shadow, blacker than night, began growing in the corner of the room over the bed.
“Oh no. Ohhh, no.” Closing his eyes in panic, Gale felt sweat break out on his forehead. The dizzy wave deepened. “No. No!” Gale didn’t count on opening another door. But his actions had thrown the gates wide.
Stumbling as if he had been pushed, Gale reached for the wall and fell back, hitting his head, then went unconscious. Chapter 15

With a supreme effort, Gale opened his eyes. His head was splitting from the pain. The room was black. Disoriented, he tried to stagger to his feet. Gale felt for the wall and the light switch. It ignited painfully and he covered his eyes from the stabbing glare. Once he got over the intensity, he lowered his hand and glanced around the room.

He saw Jonathan slumped over on his bed and thought he must have fallen asleep. Gale scuffed toward him, trying to remember what had happened. He shook Jonathan’s shoulder. “Jonathan. Wake up.”

At his touch, Jonathan rolled over limply. Blood. There was blood all over the bed.
As his brain caught up to his sight, Gale gasped and spotted a pentagram had been carved on Jonathan’s torso and a bullet hole was visible on the temple of the hood.
At the vision of slaughter, Gale let out an anguished cry and cradled Jonathan to his chest, rocking him and sobbing hysterically. “No! No,” he wailed, Jonathan’s body, stiff and cool against Gale’s burning flesh. Convulsing in agony, Gale finally released Jonathan to see blood smeared on his chest and arms. At the grotesque marks, Gale backed away in horror.
He covered his mouth on a scream welling up inside him. “Oooh gaadddd! Jonathan!”
Needing to stare at something else, Gale faced the wall and reached up to hold it, dragging two lines of blood down the dirty paint as he cried. He felt the bile rise in his throat and couldn’t turn around again. Couldn’t see Jonathan dead in his bed.
Like a blind man in a black alley, Gale stumbled to the bathroom and retched. After a few unsuccessful attempts at throwing up, he tried to think. He had to call the police. Shaking so badly he could not function, Gale dragged himself to the phone and plugged in the one in the kitchen. When he lifted the receiver and heard the dial tone, he hung up.

Wait a minute. They’ll think I did it. Oh my God! I was set up!
Gale backed out of the kitchen and spun around in confusion. I was set up!
In a split decision, Gale knew had to get out of there. He grabbed his jacket and keys, rushing out of the apartment, running passed Jonathan’s Mercedes to his Harley. Gale revved up the bike and tore out of the apartment parking lot. He had to think.
Gale rode wildly, unsure of a destination. Heading north on Aurora Avenue, he spotted a seedy little bar and drove into the parking lot. Gale entered the dimly lit place. He assumed his hair was wild from riding in the wind, so he tried to tame it. Hiding in a corner, Gale sat down, quivering in spasms he couldn’t control.
The waitress came over and placed a coaster before him. “What can I get ya, hun?”
“Scotch, please. Straight up.”
“Comin’ right up.” She walked away.
Gale noticed his hands. There was dried blood on them. Cringing at the sight, he stuck them under his leather thighs. The drink was set down. He nodded to her and waited for the waitress to walk away. When she did, he shot down the booze and tried to think.
He couldn’t get his mind to stop running over that vision. That sick nightmare he left behind. Instinctively, he covered his face and tried not to weep. Jonathan. Oh, Jonathan. Oh God no...
When he felt someone near him Gale gasped in fear.
The waitress asked, “You want another one, sugar?”
“No,” he shook his head, “No, thank you,” and tried to get the money out of his wallet despite his tremors. He gave her ten dollars. “Keep the change.”
“Thanks, doll.” She smiled at him.
Didn’t he have a friend to call? Did he have to look through his business cards for help? Should he have called the police? Would that be sensible?
Lost, dead inside, Gale ran his hands through his hair and stood, gripping the table when he swayed unsteadily. He made it out of the bar and climbed onto his motorcycle. The Harley seemed to be the only thing sane and consistent in his life. He ignited the engine and flew into the night. Without a solution or idea, hovering at about one hundred and fifty miles per hour, the reflectors on the highway looked like a landing strip and all he wanted to do was hit the sky. Chapter 16

His two wheels rode across a finely trimmed lawn and nearly up two porch steps carelessly. Gale shut the engine, propped the bike on its kickstand and pounded the door.

With a hairnet on her head and terrycloth housecoat, the weary maid answered, peeking out of a crack in the door.
Gale shoved her aside, shouting, “Muriel!” at the top of his lungs.
When Muriel came rushing down the staircase in her pink robe and slippers, Muriel dismissing Martha with a wave.
Like he had been brought before a savior, Gale dropped to his knees. “Help me.”
Stunned, Muriel crouched down by him for an explanation. Gale grasped her close, squeezing her tight.
“Gale. Sweetheart. Please. What’s happened?” She stroked his hair.
“Muriel. Oh, God, Muriel. Jonathan. Jonathan is dead. Murdered. God, oh God...” He sobbed hysterically, shaking in convulsive spasms.
She covered her mouth and stared at him. “Did you kill him?”
“I didn’t do it.” He moaned. “I swear. By my own life, I swear to you.”
“Gale, calm down. Then how do you know?”
Aware he was not making any sense, Gale struggled to stop crying and tried to choke out the details. “He...He’s in my apartment. He…he’s in my bed. He’s been shot.” Gale looked down at his hands, remembering holding Jonathan in his arms.
The minute Muriel noticed the blood she jumped in surprise.
“He’s in my bed, Muriel. He’s in my bed.” Gale felt sick again. It was coming on him in waves. Hunched over, he collapsed in on himself and rocked with his arms wrapped tightly around his own stomach. It was swelling in him to the point where he was going to explode. Jonathan was dead. Dead in that gruesome mask, the pentagram and the blood. Gale just couldn’t wake up from this nightmare.
Finally reacting, taking charge, Muriel stood Gale up to his shaking feet and sat him on a chair. After rushing to and from the liquor cabinet, she brought him a shot of scotch.
She asked calmly, “What actually happened, Gale?”
“I…I…” He choked on the drink as he tried to shoot it down but couldn’t.
Muriel patted his back lightly and took the glass away.
After a coughing fit, Gale said, “We…we were having an affair.” His eyes ran with hot tears. “He came to my apartment. He wanted to end it. He said something happened and accused me of telling people about us.” Hiccupping, gulping air, Gale tried to stop another wrenching sob from escaping. Muriel continued to caress him gently.
Fighting the urge cry, Gale swallowed his emotions. “Jonathan wanted me…he…I was planning on punishing him…I was going to be rough on him…so…so he’d get mad at me and not come back. I knew he would get in trouble for seeing me. So, I wanted to make him want to leave me. I…I bound him up.” Gale noticed Muriel cringe.
He said loudly, “I…I bound him up to scare him!” As the irresponsibility of the act crushed him, Gale broke down and covered his face.
She drew him into her arms, cooing softly, rocking him. “Shh. It’s okay.”
“I didn’t kill him, Muriel. I would never hurt him. It was a game. A stupid game I was playing. I was about to make love to him. But something happened to me and I must have blacked out. I don’t remember anything. All I can remember is waking up and seeing him in my bed. He was dead. And there was so much blood.” Staring at his hands again and seeing the stains there, Gale whimpered. “Jonathan. Oh, Jonathan.”
“Come on. Come with me.” Muriel helped Gale to stand. He was clumsy and slow as she guided him up the staircase and sat him on her bed. When she unzipped his leather jacket and found his chest smeared with blood, Muriel jumped in panic.
Exhaustion had taken its toll. Gale stared out of unseeing eyes. His limbs felt icy as Muriel tugged off his boots and stood him up to take off his leather pants. Once he was naked she brought him to the tub and had him step in.
Muriel washed him from his tears to his toes, rinsing the blood down the drain. When he was clean, she patted him dry. Gale closed his eyes, drifting off at some long lost memory of peace and tranquility. It’d been so long since he felt peace in his heart, more hot tears ran from his eyes.
Muriel once again brought him to her bedroom and peeled back the blankets for him to climb in. Like a doting mother, she tucked the covers around him to warm him, then left the room.
He closed his eyes and tried to resist the urge to cry again. ~
Checking the hour, seeing it was almost one, Muriel sat at her desk in the hall and composed herself. Her gut instinct told her to call the police now. But the idea of them storming in at this hour went against her nerves. Jonathan was dead. And a dead body can wait.
Finishing Gale’s scotch with a gulp, she ascended the stairs wearily, took off her robe, staring at Gale as he slept in her bed. Stripping naked, she climbed in and embraced him. His skin felt like it was burning with fever next to her cool flesh. He had cried himself to sleep and was far away from the demons of the night. She coiled herself around him, groaning in pleasure at finally having him in her arms. Chapter 17

At daybreak Muriel left Gale sound asleep, washed his leather clothing of all visible blood, and finally phoned the police. “Hello, yes, my name is Muriel Brown. I believe there has been a murder. Jonathan Strickland has been killed. Yes, you did hear correctly. He’s in an apartment at Forty-Fifth and Sixteenth Avenue Northeast, unit number two. The young man who lives in that apartment is with me now and I will keep him here. His name is Gale Hansen. He’s in shock and is sleeping. Yes, I’ll hold the line.” She raised her eyes to the upper floor and let out a deep breath.

After being transferred to several different units until she was connected to homicide, Muriel spent an hour giving the details to the police. It was so morbid she could barely stand it.

Before she had even ascended the steps to dress, the police were hammering her door. In surprise she hurried to meet them, pulling her robe over herself. With a quartet of uniformed and plainclothes officers standing in her front hall, Muriel went to get Gale for them, insisting the officers wait.

Trying to be gentle, Muriel woke Gale and said, “Get dressed. The police need to ask you some questions. They’re waiting downstairs.”

“I figured it was inevitable.” He climbed out of bed and headed to the bathroom to splash his face. Once he was dressed in his leathers, looking unshaven and coarse with his dark shadow and wild hair, he followed Muriel to the first floor.

Three cops grabbed him and placed his arms behind his back. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law.”

“You’re arresting him?” Never expecting this to happen, Muriel gasped. “Why on earth?”
Gale hung his head as his hands were cuffed behind him. The officer continued to read him his Miranda warnings as Gale was escorted out to a waiting patrol car.
Muriel hurried after him yelling, “I’ll call my attorney, Gale.” Seeing her worst nightmare becoming reality, Muriel ran into the house to find her phone directory.
~
With the mixture of Seattle and Snohomish County patrol cars surrounding the Woodway home, Gale felt truly defeated as the Seattle cops closed the back door of their blue and white car. He knew he would take the blame for this. There was no way out this time.
Shutting his eyes, he envisioned he was protected by white light and his guardian angel was close by. It was his form of meditation and it kept him from crying.
~
Gale was seated in a room without windows. A uniformed officer was just outside the door and two plain-clothed detectives were pacing in front of him. Too weary to utter another syllable, Gale bowed his head low and tried to hide under his hair. This wasn’t real. He was having a bad dream he couldn’t wake up from. Why was he so sure he was going down for Jonathan’s murder?
One of the detectives went behind him and unlocked his handcuffs. Gale rubbed his wrists and pushed his hair back from his face.
“You want a soda or anything to drink?” the detective asked.
“No, thanks.”
The older man sat down in a chair across from him. “My name is Detective Phillip Martin. This is Sergeant Hamill.” Gale made eye contact with them briefly. “I want you to tell me exactly what happened last night in your apartment.”
“I already have.” Gale’s voice was hoarse from all the talking he had been doing on the drive to the homicide office in downtown Seattle.
The cops kept asking him the same questions, over and over, hoping to trip him up.
“You drove home that night and…” Detective Martin began.
“When do I see a lawyer?”
“You’ll get treated better if you cooperate with us now.”
“I have cooperated with you. I have told you everything I know. One of those rights you read to me said I can have a lawyer present with me before any questioning if I wish.”
The sergeant pulled a card out of his pocket and laughed. “Verbatim. You ever been arrested before, kid?”
Wishing he were dead, Gale rubbed his unshaven jaw tiredly. “You know I have. You have my arrest record in front of you. Do I look like an idiot?”
“I’m hoping you don’t look like a murderer.” Detective Martin consulted his pad. “We found a pentagram spraypainted on your front door. What kind of religion do you practice?”
“Why is my religion your business?”
“It is if there’s satanic sacrifice involved and a murder.”
Gale tried to sit straight in his chair. “That graffiti showed up last night before Jonathan came over. It was there when I got home.”
“What time?”
“I don’t remember exactly. Five? Six?”
“Didn’t you think it was odd?”
“I did. But I didn’t think there was much I could do about it. This town is full of weirdoes.”
The detective replied, “You said a mouthful.”
~
“Yes, this is Muriel Brown. I need to speak to Lawrence Carlson, please.” She bit at her nail and checked the time.
“Hello, Muriel. What can I do for you?”
“Lawrence, I’m frantic with worry and I need your help.”
“What is it, Muriel? You know I’m here for you.”
“One of my dearest friends is in trouble.”
“Muriel, what’s wrong?”
“Gale Hansen has just been arrested for the murder of—”
“Of Jonathan Strickland?” he asked.
As if it were impossible to believe, Muriel shivered in horror. “How on earth did you know?”
“It was on the front page of this morning’s paper. They said they had one suspect in custody.”
“Well, that’s despicable. I’ve hardly had a moment to catch my breath. He’s innocent, Lawrence. Please help him.”
“Is he in the King County jail?”
“I assume so.”
“I’ll get down there right away. So, you think he’s innocent?”
“I don’t ‘think’ anything of the sort.”
“You don’t?”
“No. I know he is.”
“How do you know?”
“Don’t ask me how. I just do.”
~
Branded a murderer, Gale was in an orange cotton prison uniform again, seated in a jail cell on the cot, staring into space. He knew one thing for sure; he was doomed. No one believed him. It was finished. At the sound of opening metal gates, he jerked his head up to guard.
“Come with me.”
Gale swallowed in a loud gulp as he was shown out of his cage. He was escorted to a small room with a desk and two chairs.
Inside the room was a handsome, well-dressed man in his thirties. A briefcase was lying flat on the desk. The man extended his hand. “I’m Lawrence Carlson. Muriel Brown called our firm to represent you.”
“Thank fuck.” Gale sighed as he shook his hand. In the odd pause that followed, they took a moment to inspect each other. Gale tried to read the look Lawrence was giving, sensing something sexual, but disregarding it as his own fatigue.
Lawrence cleared his throat and gestured for Gale to sit down, taking the chair in front of him. Lawrence nudged aside his briefcase and folded his hands on the table.
In the awkwardness, Gale waited. He glanced at the door where he could see a uniformed guard through the window, standing right outside. His attention was drawn back to the curious inspection he was receiving from his attractive attorney.
“Look,” Gale said, breaking the quiet which engulfed them. “I wanted a lawyer hours ago. They kept telling me I’d get better cooperation if I answered their questions without one. Is that legal?”
“No. They should have stopped questioning you when you asked for representation.” Lawrence removed a pen from his pocket and a legal pad from his briefcase.
“I assume you want to ask me some questions?”
“Yes. I do.”
“Can you get me out of here?” Gale leaned closer.
“They need to post bail in the next twenty-four hours. I believe it will be rather high. They may even state no bail in this case.”
“No bale?” Gale reached for Lawrence’s tweed suit sleeve and squeezed his arm. He choked on his sob as he said, “Do you know what will happen to me if I have to stay in jail?”
Lawrence glanced at Gale’s hand before he looked into his eyes. “Let’s try not to think about that at the moment.”
Crushing the fabric of Lawrence’s jacket, dragging Lawrence over the table, Gale said, “Don’t let them put me in there with the others, please.”
“I’ll try my best, Gale. You know I will,” he replied, patting Gale’s hand for reassurance.
Gale released his grip of Lawrence’s arm and slumped in his chair.
“Okay,” Lawrence said, “I want you to tell me what happened from the beginning, Gale. I want to know how you and Mr. Strickland met and then on from there.”
Exhausted, tired of the constant talking, which was bruising his vocal cords and depressing him, Gale bit his lip and focused on Lawrence’s intelligent blue eyes. “From the beginning?” Gale sighed unhappily.
His pen at the ready, Lawrence nodded. “Please.”
After inhaling for strength, wiping his wet eyes on the shoulder of his orange shirt, Gale began the tale of how he and Jonathan had met at Muriel’s party and then the rendezvous with Jonathan at the hotels.
Drained of all his life after everything he revealed, Gale said, “I don’t know who would set me up. Things were getting a little weird, like I said. The phone calls and the graffiti tag on my apartment door. My drink had to be drugged. I went down after I drank it. But how? How did the real killer put something in it, Lawrence?”
Lawrence had been scribbling notes non-stop. When Gale called him by his first name, Lawrence stopped writing looked at him.
At the unusual reaction, Gale tilted his head. “What?”
“Nothing.” Lawrence disregarded the question. “I’ll make sure the lab tests the glass mug. So, you’re saying it isn’t possible for someone to have been in your apartment.”
“Well, no. It is possible. I leave the kitchen window cracked open. I’ve crawled in that way before when I once locked myself out. There’s a dumpster under the window.”
“Then someone may have climbed in and spiked your drink.”
Gale rubbed his coarse jaw. “Yes. Now that I think about it. When I went back for that beer mug it was dark in the kitchen. I thought it was odd. I didn’t remember turning off the light. I mean, why would I?”
“Could you have looked right over someone crouching in there?”
“Yes. It’s possible.” Gale nodded. “Why would someone do this? Why would they kill Jonathan and frame me? Why?”
“I don’t know, Gale, but we’ll get you out of here. I don’t think they have enough to hold you. It’s all circumstantial.” Squeezing Gale’s hand in both of his, Lawrence asked, “Have you ever owned a gun?”
“No. Never.” Gale bit his lip. “I didn’t do it.”
“I believe you.”
~
An hour later, Lawrence was at his desk with a senior associate, George Farmer, seated across from him. His phone to his ear, Lawrence was talking as he wrote notes. “Yes, Detective Martin, this is Lawrence Carlson, I’m the attorney representing Gale Hansen. Look, you mind if I ask you some questions over the phone?”
“No. I’ll tell you if it’s something I don’t want to answer.”
“I’m sure you will.” Lawrence smirked. “Look, Mr. Hansen mentioned a beer mug that was left in his bedroom. You guys find it?”
“Why?”
“He thinks he was drugged. Are you going to test the contents?”
“Next question,” he replied.
Unhappy the detective was going to play hardball, Lawrence exhaled in anger. “Look. If he was framed I need your help here. We don’t want an innocent man sent to prison.”
“Yes, we’ve tested it,” the detective said.
“Have you gotten the results back?”
“Not yet.”
“Okay. How about the dumpster outside his kitchen window? Did you check to see if anyone climbed through?”
“Where do you come off with these theories? He was being cut off from his source of money. He cuffed the poor guy and sacrificed him to the fucking devil in cold blood,” Detective Martin said, “Case closed.”
Lawrence felt as if he stumbled off the curb at the comment. “Hang on. What do you mean sacrificed?”
“We found satanic paraphernalia in that apartment and the victim had a pentagram carved on his chest. All this comes on the heels of a private investigator who discovered Strickland was paying Hansen for sex. When Strickland ended it, your client was obviously furious and killed him.”
“And that’s it? You won’t even explore any other possibilities? Did you even locate the murder weapon?”
“You’re wasting my time. I’ll see you in court.”
Hearing the click of the line disconnecting, Lawrence grumbled. “Asshole.”
George said, “I got the gist of the conversation. We need to hire an investigator of our own.”
“Yes. This is insane. The guy is Lawrence looked at his copious notes.
“Are you sure?”
Sitting back, staring at his senior chewed on his pen and said, “Yes. He didn’t do it.”
George raised his bushy eyebrows.
“I just don’t think Gale’s the type to kill someone. He was crying like a baby about it.”
“Crying because his ass is grass, no doubt.” George picked up Gale’s police record in the thick file of paperwork. “Hansen was arrested for assault and carrying an illegal knife, possession of class-A substance, urinating in public…Come on, Lawrence.”
Lawrence felt his cheeks heat up. “He was a juvenile at the time. All those charges should have been expunged from his record.”
“No. Not felony convictions. They’ll stay on his rap sheet.” George closed the file. “Don’t let this guy alter your usual good judgment.”
Lawrence didn’t appreciate the look he was receiving. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Be careful,” George said.
“Be careful?”
“Yes. Be careful.”
George stood up, leaving Lawrence to interpret the odd warning.
~
Monday morning at nine Gale stood in his prison uniform next to his attorney as he readied for the pre-trial hearing. Handcuffs bound his wrists and a chain was around his ankles forcing him to baby-step as he walked into the courtroom. Several armed guards watched him closely from the side of the room as if he were Charles Manson.
His case was called to the bench. Lawrence held Gale’s elbow and together they approached the judge along with the prosecuting attorney.
Clenching his teeth, Gale listened as the prosecutor lay out innocent, George.”
partner, Lawrence his case in front of the woman in the black robe.
“Your Honor, my name is John Jones and I represent the state of Washington in the prosecution of Gale Hansen for the charge of murder in the first degree.”

Lawrence appeared impatient as the prosecutor explained the positioning of the victim’s body, the bullet wound, the leather mask and handcuffs, the fact that the suspect’s clothing had the victim’s blood on it. Droning in a monotone voice, the prosecutor then went on about the satanic nature of the crime and the danger Gale posed to society if released.

A slight whimper came from Gale’s throat as the gory details were recounted. He didn’t remember much, and cringed at the pain and fear Jonathan must have endured.

Lawrence quickly reached to Gale’s arm for a comforting squeeze.
Waiting what felt like an eternity, listening to the nonsense spewed from the prosecutor, watching him flap papers from the police investigation, Gale knew he was going to jail for life. The evidence that had been given by the state was so compelling, Gale was beginning to think he may have actually committed the crime.
The judge asked the prosecutor, “Mr. Jones, do you have anything else to present?”
The man in the black suit shook his head no. “Not at this time, Your Honor.”
Lawrence addressed the judge, “Your Honor, my name is Lawrence Carlson and I am representing the defendant Gale Hansen.” Lawrence handed the judge several items of paperwork. “I would like to offer you the test results from the Washington State crime lab. Two hundred milligrams of the sedative zolpidem was found in the empty glass from which my client drank prior to Mr. Strickland being killed. Your Honor, no firearm has been located, and neither has the knife that was used to cut the victim. There is no witness testimony. There is nothing to connect my client to the crime except purely circumstantial evidence. Gale Hansen woke up to find Jonathan Strickland dead. The blood on his clothing was not spatter. My client tried to assist the victim and held him in his arms in grief. He willingly turned himself into the authorities. He had no intent—”
“The money, Your Honor,” the prosecutor interrupted.
The judge silenced the prosecutor and asked Lawrence to continue.
After looking back at Gale once, Lawrence said, “Also, Your Honor, a woman or very young man’s footprint was recovered by the Washington State crime lab. It was located and photographed from the dumpster which is directly under my client’s kitchen window. A hair sample has been collected from the sill of that same window. The DNA is that of a female. It does not match my client’s DNA. There are a number of other possibilities the police are not exploring. In my opinion, Your Honor, there is a very strong possibility that someone else was in my client’s apartment and that individual drugged my client.” Lawrence paused as if giving the judge a second to think. “Gale Hansen had no motive to kill Jonathan Strickland, and on the contrary, he had everything to lose.”
The prosecutor’s choking laugh cut Lawrence off.
Gale tried not to glare at the man in hatred.
Through the interruption, Lawrence said calmly, “As I was saying, Your Honor, my client was very much a victim in this tragedy. All the evidence points to someone else. Someone taking revenge on either Jonathan Strickland or my client, Gale Hansen. Drugs were found in the glass from which my client was drinking, potent enough to knock a horse off its feet. Mr. Hansen is lucky those drugs didn’t put him into a coma. How was my client supposed to act out in any way when he was unconscious during the time of the event?”
Gale bit his lip. It was true. All true. The lady judge met his eyes as if scrutinizing him. Gale’s filled with tears though he tried to be strong.
Lawrence pointed to the file. “Someone brought a gun and a knife to that apartment, used it to kill and defile Jonathan Strickland’s body and took both items with them. My client has never been associated with firearms and no gun was found near or at the scene of the crime. Also, the edged weapon used to cut the victim was not located. If Gale Hansen was so smart and devious, why did he remain at Muriel Brown’s home waiting for the police? We have a substantiated timeline verified, that the defendant panicked when he woke from the sedatives, and yet he did not flee the area. He stayed close to home, stopped to consider the event at a tavern, then ended up at a friend’s place for help and advice. These are not the acts of a criminal. They are the acts of a terrified victim.” Lawrence pointed to Mr. Jones. “He’s trying to make my client out to be a ruthless killer into satanic ritual. How far is the state going to go to put an innocent man into jail?”
The judge reviewed the paperwork carefully. “Any rebuttal, Mr. Jones?”
“Gale Hansen has a tattoo of a pentagram on his low abdomen.”
At the statement, which didn’t seem to lend any credence to the case, Gale noticed not only the judge but Lawrence and a few other court official look at the prosecutor as if he were truly grasping at straws.
The judge disregarded the comment completely and perused the paperwork in front of her.
Lawrence said in a commanding tone, “I move for a dismissal, Your Honor. No physical or testimonial evidence linking my client to the crime has been shown.”
“He had motive!” Mr. Jones said, “He was at the scene during the time of death, covered in the victim’s blood, did not call the police for help—”
Gale gulped so loudly he was certain it was heard from where the judge sat.
The judge silenced the courtroom when it filled with murmuring voices. “Motive and opportunity alone does not constitute sufficient probable cause. If that’s all you have, Mr. Jones, then I have no choice but to grant the defendant’s motion.”
“But…You’re talking about the cold blooded murder of a prominent banker and local businessman,” Mr. Jones said.
“We’re talking about two men here. I will base my decision on what is before me now. If you unearth anymore damaging evidence in the future you may re-file at that time. The defendant is free to go.”
Gale spotted Lawrence tightened his fist in elation, then Lawrence spun around, smiling. Gale tried to understand what just happened. His head was spinning.
“I’ll finish your paperwork.” Lawrence winked.
A guard stepped towards Gale.
Shifting his weight from side to side, Gale still wasn’t sure what was going on. He kept staring at Lawrence for an answer. “I don’t get it.”
“You’re free to go for now. The guard will take you back to the prison to process and get your things.”
At Lawrence’s reassurance, Gale’s heart beat wildly at the possibility of justice.
~
Wearing a pair of cheap sweat pants and sweatshirt, Gale made his way toward Lawrence. The guard opened the door to a lobby area and Lawrence stepped in.
“Well? What just happened? Did we win?” Gale asked, feeling nervous.
Lawrence said, “Yes, for the moment. You’re being released. They don’t have enough to hold you right now, but they may re-file.”
Impulsively Gale grabbed Lawrence and embraced him. “Thank you. Oh, God. Thank you.” When Gale backed up he noticed Lawrence’s pinched expression. “Is there something else?” Gale asked nervously.
“Where will you go now? Did Jonathan set up any kind of fund for you?”
“Why can’t I go home?”
“Is that where you want to go? I didn’t think you’d want to see that place again.”
Gale shrugged. “What choice do I have?”
Lawrence squeezed Gale’s shoulder and led him outside. The minute they hit the gray drizzly Seattle streets, they were mobbed by reporters.
“Did you and Mr. Strickland have regular S&M sex?” “Did you meet in a gay bar?” “Have you anything to say about his wife and children?” “Did he write you into his will?” “Do you think you know who killed him?” “Is it true you’re into devil worship?” “Who do you want to get the movie rights?” “Will you give us an interview?”
The vultures at his back, Gale pulled the hood of the sweatshirt up, covering his face as Lawrence hustled him down the block to a waiting taxicab. Roughly, he shoved Gale into the back seat, away from the hounding reporters. Once they were locked in and on their way, Gale looked back to see the hoard in disbelief. “Holy crap. I didn’t expect that.”
“I should have. I’m sorry.”
Feeling hollow and lonely, Gale stared out at the rainy streets.
“It’ll blow over. The reporters just love this type of scandal.”
“I know. I was one of those jackals, but I couldn’t do it.” Gale rubbed his eyes. He was exhausted and uncomfortable in the loose fitting sweat outfit. It was definitely not his style.
When they came within a block of Gale’s apartment, Lawrence pointed to the news trucks and told the driver, “Keep going.”
“I don’t believe this.” Gale felt his stomach in knots. “I just want to get on with my life. This sucks! I have to get clean clothing and my personal things.”
“You should probably get someone to clean the crime scene first before you move back in.”
“No. Forget it. I was planning on moving anyway. I can’t stay there anymore. I left my bike at Muriel’s the night of the murder. I have to somehow get it.”
“The police impounded it for evidence. I’ll see it’s released and brought to you. Where do you want me to have it sent?”
Gale had no clue. He imagined staying with Muriel but that wasn’t the best idea with her tendency to seduce and control him.
“What do you want me to do?” Lawrence caressed Gale’s hair gently.
Gale met his eyes instantly. The touch was intimate. Sexual. Gale began reading an overt proposition. “I don’t know what to do. I just need my bike.”
“Okay. Do you have a friend you can stay with?”
Waving his hand for Lawrence to hang on to his thought, Gale said to the taxi driver. “Can you pull over for a second?”
The driver did.
Gale turned to face Lawrence in the confines of the back seat. “Are you gay?”
The look on Lawrence’s face was painful for Gale. He flinched. It took a moment, but Lawrence nodded, giving the driver a nervous glance.
Gale’s mind raced. The vibes were unmistakable now.
After a protracted silence, Lawrence asked, “Do you need a place to stay for a few days?”
“Are you kidding me?” Gale lowered his voice. “After what I’ve just been charged with? Are you insane?”
Lawrence leaned towards the driver, telling him a new destination. Gale didn’t know whether to be grateful or terrified.
The car moved on.
“What about my bike?” Gale felt slightly ill from the strange offer.
“Don’t worry. I have a garage we can hide it in. I’ll send someone for your belongings at your apartment. If you want, I’ll get the contents placed into storage.” Lawrence touched Gale’s shoulder. “Staying with me is temporary. No strings. Just a place to regroup until you can get on your feet and get a new apartment.”
“Are you sure?” It was as if Gale couldn’t catch his breath. “You better be sure because I’ve got a reputation as a satanic killer, Lawrence. Think about this.”
“I have.” He cupped Gale’s cheek affectionately.
The cab pulled up in front of a posh condominium complex near Capitol Hill. Wary of media trucks, Lawrence peeked around and then paid the driver.
Hiding under the hood, Gale climbed out of the cab and shoved his hands into the sweatshirt’s pockets.
Lawrence nodded for Gale to follow and then fumbled with the key to the lobby door. As they ascended in the elevator in silence, Gale felt his stomach churn at the thought of someone finding out.
Gale trailed Lawrence, who moved down the hallway swiftly to his unit. He showed Gale into his home, tossing his jacket and briefcase down. “Make yourself comfortable. You want something to drink?”
Standing with his hands still in his pockets and his back to the door, Gale eyed the contents of the unit curiously. The place was immaculate, open-planned; clean lines created by sophisticated electronics made up one wall. The interior included a leather sofa and love seat, and a glass and wrought iron coffee table which held a designer hand-blown red vase. Gale felt odd. “Yes, please.”
It was almost a whisper, but Lawrence had heard it. He walked into the kitchen, pouring them both a glass of wine. Gale stood near the doorway. The outfit he was wearing was all he possessed at the moment and wasn’t even his. His clothing had been taken as evidence and he had yet to get them back, if he ever would.
Lawrence stretched out his hand, giving Gale the glass. Gale thanked him softly and unplugged one of his pockets to receive it.
“What size pants do you wear?”
“Huh?” At the weird comment, Gale stopped before he sipped his drink.
Lawrence gestured to his outfit. “I just thought you might want to change.”
“Thirty-eight.”
Nodding, Lawrence set his glass down on the coffee table as Gale watched him disappear. Left alone for a moment, Gale wandered to the stack of CD’s and read the titles.
A pair of jeans and a t-shirt landed on the cream colored leather sofa next to him. “Shower’s that way.” Lawrence smiled.
Gale felt his face lose color at the request he usually heard from Jonathan.
“What? You okay?” In concern, Lawrence crossed the room to him.
At the disorienting sensation, Gale had to shake himself out of an image of Jonathan pointing to the bathroom, saying, ‘I’d prefer it if you shower first.’
“No, I’m not okay. Lawrence, it’s this whole arrangement I’m worried about. I keep asking myself why you’re doing this. I’ve been accused of murder. Being seen with me can ruin you. Why would you want to help me? Why would you want to invite a stranger you helped get out of jail into your home? What the hell’s wrong with you?”
Lawrence’s expression went dead serious. “Sit down.”
Gale dropped into the chair, taking the items of clothing to his lap and putting the wine glass aside.
“I’ll be honest with you, Gale. The main reason is to help you. Really it is. I like you and I believe you. I don’t think you’re capable of murdering anyone.”
“How do you know?” Gale asked. He wasn’t so sure he wasn’t capable of horrible things, so why was Lawrence?
Lawrence sighed loudly in what sounded like frustration. “I consider myself a very good judge of people. You can’t hide your feelings very well, Gale. I know how much Jonathan’s death affected you.”
Gale turned away and felt his eyes sting with tears. Trying to be discreet, he wiped them on the sleeve of the fleece sweatshirt.
“Go shower and shave. You’ll feel better.”
At the touch, Gale peered down at Lawrence’s hand as it shook his knee affectionately. He needed a shower and shave desperately. Gale stood and found his way to the bathroom.
He washed, shaved, and dressed in Lawrence’s soft faded blue jeans and his gray University of Washington t-shirt. The entire time he was cleaning up, he was thinking, What’s the catch? Sex? It has to be sex. ~
Once Gale returned he found Lawrence put the finishing touches on breaded chicken breasts and placing them in the oven. Gale stood in the center of the room. Now this man is cooking for me? In confusion, he rubbed his forehead.
Lawrence refilled their wine glasses and handed Gale his. Gale never took his eyes off of him. “Are you attracted to me?”
Lawrence looked stunned at the blunt question, then focused on Gale’s expression. “Yes.”
Gale sat down on the living room sofa and sipped the wine, contemplating.
“Why did you ask me that?” Lawrence sat across from him.
“It all makes more sense to me now, that’s all.”
Lawrence wouldn’t catch his eye again. Gale sighed tiredly, sitting back to stare into space.
Chapter 18

Late afternoon the next day, Gale was still exhausted from his ordeal and had fallen asleep on Lawrence’s living room couch while Lawrence was at work.

Hearing his name being whispered, Gale stirred, his focus hazy.
“Gale. It’s Muriel Brown on the phone.” Lawrence cupped the cordless.
Having slept through Lawrence’s arrival home, Gale noticed Lawrence’s empty wine glass on the coffee table. Was he sitting across from him drinking while Gale napped?
Gale sat up straight, trying to clear the cobwebs from his brain. Moving stiffly, reaching out for the receiver, Gale caught eyes with Lawrence and immediately looked away shyly. “Hello?”
“Gale. Oh, my dear. Why haven’t you contacted me? Just when I thought I had all the bail money collected I find out you have been released. I am so relieved for you, dear.”
“Thanks. Sorry. I should have called. I’ve been keeping a low profile. You know.” Gale stuffed his hand into his pocket nervously, avoiding Lawrence’s stare.
“Haven’t the press been awful? I know, Gale, I’ve had to chase them off my front steps as well. How are you holding up? Was it terrible for you in prison?”
“I hadn’t come out of solitary yet, so, no, I didn’t have any problems.”
“I’m so glad it worked out for you. When are you coming here? I know you can’t go back to your apartment now, can you? I have loads of space here, dear, and you need to come and make yourself at home.”
Behind him, in the kitchen, Gale heard Lawrence starting to prepare dinner and checked the time. It was after six. He had no idea where the day had gone. “I’m all right here, Muriel, for now. Until I get my head on straight.”
“It’s very kind of Lawrence to help out, but, Gale, we mustn’t impose. I insist you come and stay here.”
Gale heard the possessiveness in her voice. “Thanks, you know I appreciate it, but.”
“How are you managing? What are you doing for money? You know I paid Lawrence for your legal fees, Gale. Did he tell you that? Are you paying any sort of rent for staying with him now?”
Unprepared for the oncoming rush of jealous accusations, Gale was struggling to get a word in edgewise. “Yes. He did mention that. Thank you, Muriel. I will pay you back. I have a little money saved up I was going to use for a down payment on a new apartment, but it’s only been one day since I was released and—”
“What’s Lawrence getting out of this arrangement?”
Gale tried to understand her intent. “What did you say?”
“I asked what he was getting in return for you living there.”
Still struggling with a sleepy mind, Gale heard her vocal cords pinch. With little effort, he could picture her face, puffy and growing pink, her lips pursed, that furrow between her eyebrows deepening. It was the very reason he couldn’t stay with her. He didn’t want to be avoiding the come-ons and innuendoes constantly. “He’s not getting anything, Muriel.”
Gale noticed Lawrence perk up at the last sentence.
“All I’m saying is that it doesn’t look very nice, Gale, with what the papers are saying about you and Jonathan. Have you seen today’s Times? If Frank Pasco gets wind of you living with your handsome attorney, you know exactly—”
“Muriel!” He was wretched from all the finger-pointing and incorrect insinuations he’d been battered with constantly.
At Gale’s fury, Lawrence stopped what he was doing and stared at him.
Changing her tone instantly, Muriel crooned, “What about dinner? Or lunch? We have to talk, Gale. It was all so horrible the night of the murder. It was like a bad dream. I can hardly believe it’s over.”
“It isn’t over.” Gale turned his back towards Lawrence. “There’s still a murderer to catch.”
“Oh. Yes, of course, dear. We must find the murderer. That detective has been very thorough. He even came here and questioned me. You’d have thought I was a suspect or something. Imagine that. Why would I want to see poor Jonathan dead?”
Gale wondered the same thing. “Jealousy?”
“I resent that terribly coming from you. My dearest love. How can you say such a thing to me?”
“Forget it. Listen, I don’t know about lunch. I haven’t even left this place for twenty-four hours since I’ve been here. I’m afraid once the reporters find out where I am I’ll never get any peace.”
“I’m afraid you’re quite right. They’ve been giving me a bad time as well, asking me if I’ve heard from you.”
“Don’t tell them where I am. Please, Muriel. For Lawrence’s sake.” When he turned around they connected eyes again.
“Oh, yes, of course. For Lawrence. Think of what that would do to his career. Now, why would he be taking a chance like that?”
Gale heard her clicking her tongue in sarcasm. “Muriel,” Gale replied, “Stop, okay? I’ll call you when I can manage to get out in public without a mob scene.”
“Make it soon, dear, I miss you.”
“Right. See ya.” Gale felt drained and in need of more sleep as he placed the phone on the kitchen counter.
Lawrence approached him slowly. “You okay?”
Trying to stop the sound of her voice in his temples, Gale replied sarcastically, “Yeah, I’m just swell.”
“Are you hungry?” Lawrence asked, wiping is hands on a kitchen towel.
Gale noticed another meal was being prepared. “Lawrence, I feel really guilty about everything you’re doing for me. I mean, the food, the bedroom.”
“Forget about it. I like the company.” Lawrence continued making dinner. “I brought the paper home if you want to skim through the want ads for work or a place to live.” Lawrence poured them both a glass of wine and handed one to Gale. “Aren’t you anxious for your life to move on?”
Taking the stemmed glass from Lawrence, Gale exhaled a loud breath. “I don’t know what I want. At this point I’m too paranoid to even go outside the apartment.”
Gale wandered back into the living room, glancing down at The Times as it sat on top of Lawrence’s briefcase. Though he knew he shouldn’t, he reached for it and checked the headline. The blood drained from Gale’s face as he read, Kinky Sex Gets Bank CEO Jonathan Strickland Killed; Leather-clad male lover used handcuffs and hood during sexual encounters.
“Oh, no.” Gale moaned, sick to his stomach. He put the glass down on the coffee table and the newspaper slid to the carpet.
Lawrence called after Gale as he walked out of the room, “Wait, Gale.”
About to die of anguish, Gale headed into the guest bedroom and sat on the bed, covering his face as his grief sought to overwhelm him.
Lawrence paused at the door just as Gale choked in a stifled cry. He sat down next to Gale on the bed.
As Gale’s body racked with sobs, he felt Lawrence’s arm rest around his shoulder to comfort him. Needing someone to help him to ride this out, Gale gripped Lawrence tightly and hid his face over his shoulder.
Lawrence patted his back and said nonsense things about it being all right and not to worry.
Through all the madness, Gale hadn’t experienced the loss of Jonathan fully. He’d been preoccupied with the murder charges, the threat of jail and its nightmare, the press, the publicity. As if a veil had been lifted, he felt confronted with the reality. Unable to find closure and go to Jonathan’s funeral because he was the suspected killer, Gale hadn’t a chance to mourn. Maybe what he and Jonathan had wasn’t ‘love’ but it was an attachment, one he missed.
Out of desperation, Gale clung to the man near him, someone he trusted. Humiliated by his weakness, Gale felt like a toddler, unable to stop the flow of tears. A baby, an outcast, a lost boy, a bastard, a rebel, and so very alone.
In the silence, Lawrence rocked him. Gale’s sobs quieted. Once more, Gale breathed with regularity and began to relax his tightly wound internal organs. Through his grief he became aware of light caressing. Gale shut his eyes and felt it ease his emptiness.
Lawrence pressed his lips against Gale’s neck, kissing him.
As sweetness melded into sensuality, Gale blinked his eyes and he raised his chin off of Lawrence’s shoulder. In the dimness of the room, Lawrence’s eyes opened slowly.
Before Gale could think with clarity, Lawrence met his lips with his own and groaned.
Though the contact didn’t surprise him, Gale resisted the urge to pull away. Gracefully, he allowed the kiss. When Lawrence sat back to see his face, it appeared Lawrence regretted his actions. “Gale, I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right.” Gale could feel Lawrence trembling as he put more space between them.
“No, it isn’t. I took advantage of the situation. I owe you an apology.”
Gale laughed sadly. In the awkwardness he reached for Lawrence’s fingers and toyed with them, bringing them to his lap.
At the gesture, Lawrence met his eyes again.
“Lawrence, I know you’re attracted to me.”
“Gale. Stop. I don’t want a relationship to begin this way.”
“But we can say its payment for all you’ve done for me.”
Lawrence studied him carefully. “Payment? Is that all you feel for me?”
“No. Look.” Gale struggled with his thoughts as he wiped his face, pushing the hair back from his eyes. “I’m too fucked up now. I can’t think.”
“I know. I know. I’m sorry. It was stupid of me. It’s too soon after.”
“After.” Gale echoed, the lump forming once again in his throat.
As Lawrence stood and straightened out his shirt, Gale noticed the bulge of his hard-on.
Lawrence obviously knew what he was staring at and took a step back. “Look, I was out of line. You don’t owe me. I want you to feel like you’re my guest.”
Not convinced this was what Lawrence wanted, Gale rose to his feet and held his shoulders to make him look directly at him. “Are you sure?”
“Am I sure? I’m sure I want to fuck your brains out. That’s the one thing I am sure about. But not for payment. I want you to want me too.”
Wishing he felt the same, Gale didn’t know what to say. He liked Lawrence, but he couldn’t even imagine starting a relationship at the moment. “I can only give you the sex. I can’t promise the emotions yet.”
“Oh, Jesus. Well, there it is on a silver platter.” Lawrence looked upset.
Gale tried to clarify. “It’s here if you want it. Okay?” Gale smoothed his hand over his own cock.
“Okay.”
Gale started unbuttoning his shirt.
“Now?” Lawrence gasped.
“I thought—” Gale gestured to the bed.
“No. After dinner. I mean, not yet.” Lawrence buttoned Gale’s shirt again.
“Lawrence.” Gale sighed in frustration when it seemed they could not communicate.
“Go sit down on the couch. I’ll get dinner ready.”
“But.”
“Later.” Lawrence pushed him gently out of the room. ~
That night Gale was in the spare bedroom, naked under the crisp sheets. His hands behind his head as he stared at the ceiling, Gale tried to think of where he could go. He heard a noise. It was the door to his room opening. Squinting in the dimness, Gale could see Lawrence coming in wearing a robe. He watched Lawrence close the door behind him and put items down on the nightstand. Objects all too familiar to Gale; lubrication and a rubber.
In the silence, Gale stared at Lawrence as he opened his robe and let it drop to the carpet. Lawrence was much younger than Jonathan, solid and muscular from a regular workout routine. As Gale’s eyes made their way down his sleek body, he found his cock was erect and ready.
Scooting over on the bed to make room, Gale peeled back the covers allowing Lawrence under. And without hesitation, Lawrence climbed in and wrapped his arms and legs around Gale’s body.
“Oh, baby.” Lawrence groaned.
Feeling a little out of sorts for this type of action, but resigned to pay his debt, Gale kissed his cheek and asked, “What do you want me to do, Lawrence?”
Lawrence kissed him. “I want to devour you, starting with your lips and working down.”
Gale answered softly, “All right.”
Without hesitation, Lawrence went back to his mouth and used his tongue to explore it. Lawrence rested his body weight on top of Gale’s and rubbed his hardness against Gale’s groin.
Though he tried not to, Gale was comparing Lawrence to Jonathan. It was a totally different experience. Jonathan never kissed him.
Lawrence was more passionate, fiery, young and eager, while Jonathan was the mature older man, rougher, more methodical. Lawrence’s loving would be reckless and wild, filled with experimentation and new thrills.
In some place in his mind, Gale wished he had met Lawrence at another time in his life. As his skin heated up and Gale’s pleasure ignited, he was enjoying Lawrence touching him, liking the tightness of his body, his hairless chest and abdomen.
Lawrence sucked on Gale’s neck under his long hair as Gale groaned sensuously. When Lawrence heard it he sat up and grabbed the rubber. The sheet fell back and Lawrence seemed to jolt at the sight of Gale’s tattoo. Perhaps knowing it existed and seeing it in the ‘flesh’ were two different things.
Do you think I’m satanic now, Lawrence? Capable of ritual murder? Gale bit his lip as if waiting for Lawrence to abort the plan.
Lawrence didn’t.
He slid the condom on his erection and lifted Gale’s legs up to rest on his shoulders. Lawrence used the lubrication and took control. Gale shivered at his boldness. No timid caresses here. Lawrence knew what he wanted, just like Jonathan. Gale was beginning to feel resentment at being everyone’s bottom-boy, but bit it back. Whatever happened to true love?
Did my deal with the devil all those years ago condemn me to forever be involved in loveless sex?
Terrified of that image, like he was destined to live a life without someone falling in love with him, Gale gripped the sheets as Lawrence’s large cock went in deep, deeper than he’d been penetrated before. Lawrence whimpered in ecstasy and reached down to Gale’s dick, working it as he humped.
At first Gale stared at Lawrence’s face, then his hand fisting his cock like he was possessed. When the climax hit Lawrence, he arched his back showing his teeth as he grunted.
Gale couldn’t climax. His thoughts of meaningless sex were killing his erection. He stopped Lawrence’s hand.
“Can’t you come?” Lawrence was panting heavily.
“No. Sorry.”
Disengaging himself from Gale’s body, Lawrence discarding the rubber, then lay on top of Gale.
Gale could feel his sweat-soaked skin and strongly beating heart through both their chests.
“I’m sorry…” Lawrence frowned. “You said earlier—”
“I know what I said. It’s okay.”
Lawrence didn’t look convinced. “I’ll go.”
“No. Stay.” Gale cradled him. All he wanted was to be shown affection. Jonathan never had.
As Lawrence settled beside him, Gale closed his eyes and felt sleep overwhelm him. In moments he was lost to the conscious world.
Chapter 19

Wednesday morning arrived and as Gale and Lawrence sipped coffee they watched the local news for word on the weather and morning commute, which in Seattle meant, snarled traffic and rain.

Gale waited until Lawrence had left for work before he packed his few belongings on the back of his bike; the bike that had remained hidden in Lawrence’s garage. Preoccupied, he didn’t have the slightest idea where he was headed, but after last night, he had to leave. One of his errands was trying to pawn the watch he had bought. He figured he wouldn’t own it for long. He never could afford life’s finer things.

Straddling the Harley, Gale felt some relief with the anticipation of riding again. It was his only salvation. Dressed in black leather, he kicked the classic roadster’s pedal, but the bike was reluctant to turn over. Using all his body weight, Gale hopped on the pedal a few times and then caught his breath.

His blood went cold at the sight of a news truck. “Oh-myfucking-god.” As nervous sweat soaked him, Gale stood once more and slammed his weight down to get the old bike started. It sputtered and stopped. Raising his head, peering through his hair, he realized the vultures had spotted him. A camera crew appeared from out of the back of the van and jogged toward him with their equipment.

Sickened by the sight, Gale said, “Oh, shit,” and kicked started the Harley Davidson more fiercely than before. It sputtered with his last effort and roared with all the gas-laden air. The cameraman stopped and immediately started filming while the reporter hustled the last few yards.

Gale grabbed his helmet and took off down the road and out of their sight.
He careened down Interstate 5 wishing he had left the condo an hour earlier. Maybe he would have missed those bloodsuckers. With a pain in the pit of his gut, he dreaded what they were going to do to Lawrence and hoped his career was resilient.
After his few errands were finished, he rode to Woodway, up a familiar driveway and idled the engine. Not convinced this was the right place to be, Gale stared at the large house imagining walking up to the door. “Muriel? I want to live with you.”
He’d have to fend her off constantly. He couldn’t love her, not that way. He had to decide, she must have heard the bike.
But she had all that money. Money to care for him. Money from that rich old man she married in the seventies. The one who died and left her millions. He could live in one of those rooms. Be waited on by her servant. Come and go as he pleased. Be clothed in finely tailored garments.
She would wonder if he was coming to the door. She must have heard the bike.
With an effort, Gale remembered the night he had come to her for help. The night of the murder. Her pudgy hands had unzipped his leather jacket, removed his pants. He recalled standing in the bathtub as she washed him down. Somehow, being at Muriel’s home, staring at the façade, he was remembering it all. After he had cried himself to exhaustion, he felt her soft body envelope him.
She would be wondering why he hadn’t come to the door by now. She might be standing at the window watching him.
He could envision the moment when just a sliver of light was creeping in from the curtains. Her hands caressing him woke him. Her hands between his legs. At that moment, he didn’t know where he was or who he was with. It was too foreign to his dulled senses. But today, he recalled her touching him. Her soft flesh crushed against his taut skin. It was smothering. Her groans in his ear. The light from the window gleaming in her eye. That adoring smile of hers.
She would be coming to look out at any moment. She had to have heard the bike.
Unable to face her, Gale fastened the chinstrap on his helmet and took off across her lawn seeing the sunken treads from last Saturday night when he had panicked and sought her help.
Hearing the engine cutting out, Gale stopped at a gas station and dug through his pockets for cash. Since he had sold the Rolex at a pawn shop he had a few hundred dollars in his wallet and put a couple of gallons in his tank. When he had filled it, he started the engine once more and headed out to the suburbs. After a twenty minute ride he parked in the tarmac lane lined with madrona trees and a view of Lake Washington.
Even though he knew this meeting would be a waste of time, Gale shut the bike and made his way to the front door as a passing cloud put the house into shadow.
“Gale?”
“Hi, Dad.”
Melvin raised his eyebrows in surprise. “How?”
“How did I get out of jail?” Gale asked perceptively.
Melvin stammered nervously and invited him in. “Last I heard you had been arrested for Jonathan’s murder. What are you doing here?”
Am I guilty or innocent? Is that what you’re thinking, Dad? Gale walked into the plush mauve living room and scanned the expensive décor solemnly.
“They didn’t have enough to hold me,” Gale said, knowing full well his father most likely thought he was a murderer.
Melvin lit up a cigarette. “Did you kill him?”
Hearing the direct question, Gale connected with his sneer of repugnance. “No. But you wouldn’t believe me anyway, would you, Dad?”
Melvin blew out the smoke. “No, I wouldn’t. What do you want?”
“I need help. Maybe a place to stay temporarily until I can find another apartment and get back on my feet.”
Melvin walked over to the couch and sat down. “Get a job.”
Gale dragged his hand back through his long hair in frustration. “I will. I want to. But who the hell would hire me?”
“You’ve made another mess for yourself, haven’t you? On top of an already entirely fucked up life.”
Needing help, craving sympathy, Gale felt like exploding. He loathed his father for his lack of responsibility towards him. If he had an alternative to this demeaning begging, he surely wished he knew it. Standing in front of him, trying to keep from screaming, Gale said, “My mess? I was drugged and someone killed Jonathan? My mess?”
“The very thought of you and Jonathan Strickland being lovers makes me laugh. Come on, Gale, what do you take me for, a moron? Jonathan was a man of quality and distinction. I don’t believe a word the papers print about you being sexual partners. My guess is he never touched you and you were simply blackmailing the man.”
Gale felt the bite of the comment and tried to stay strong.
Melvin grew bolder. “Look at you. You’re pathetic. That hair, that outfit. That damn bike. Now you’re a pariah, you contaminate everything around you. I wish you’d have stayed in jail where you belong. It’s because of you that your mother is in the hospital.”
The verbal beating taking its toll, Gale had no idea why he thought coming there was a good idea. He must have been very desperate indeed to inflict this punishment on himself. “Don’t you ever lecture me. I know you’re not my biological father.”
Melvin appeared shocked.
Gale figured he wasn’t supposed to find out. But he looked nothing like Melvin. Melvin was snow white and Gale knew he looked half Native American. He had a very good idea his mom was already pregnant when he married Melvin. How he knew? He couldn’t say. He just did. And it explained the constant chip Melvin had on his shoulder. Melvin never showed affection towards him, not even when he was a child.
Gale shook his head. “You’ve never been like a real dad to me. Don’t act like you don’t have a clue what I’m talking about.”
“Did your mother finally tell you? Or was it Muriel?”
“Who cares? You don’t.”
“Don’t I?” Melvin stood and confronted him menacingly, his cigarette being used as a hot pointer. “You’re a lazy selfish prick that wants nothing but handouts. And what you did to your mother was unforgivable.”
“What? What I did to her?” Gale choked on the words.
“You nauseate me. Just get out.” Waving as if he were through with him, Melvin shooed him away.
Hearing some of the most painful lies ever thrown in his face, Gale felt if he stood there a moment longer he’d lash out in anger. Hating his father, hating his life, he stormed out and slammed the door shut behind him. As Gale walked down the pathway to his Harley, he bit back the rage and started his bike once again.
Almost an hour later, he neighborhood. Cruising down moody and mean, he stared at the bland expressionless hoard that stared at him as he rode past.
Turning right on Sixty-Fifth, Gale stopped in front of his old building.
It was the first time he’d had a chance to return since that fateful day. Parking out front, he lifted off his helmet and shut the motor.
How could it possibly look the same? Someone died here. Didn’t it show?
As if someone had cast a spell over him, forcing him to battle his fears, Gale set his helmet down on the seat of his bike and walked up to the window, peering in. He had been formally evicted. Lawrence had placed a few of his items worth keeping into storage, but Gale doubted he’d ever retrieve them.
The apartment was hollow and empty. Fresh paint had been applied as well as new carpet. It was vacant. Who would want the apartment Jonathan Strickland was murdered in?
Since he had it, Gale tried his old key, but the lock had been changed. Wanting to see it all before he left, he walked around the corner of the building to the bedroom window and stretched to look in. Easily he remembered where the bed had found himself in his old University Avenue feeling been and how Jonathan was curled up on it. That horrid mask on his head. If I hadn’t cuffed him he may have been able to get away. If I would just have embraced him and not played stupid games. If I had just asked him not to give up on us, if I didn’t go back and finish that beer. If, if, if...
Stepping back, Gale wandered to the only other window, the kitchen window. The dumpster was still there. Like the shadow of the murderer, he climbed it and pulled at the back window pane. This time it was latched. Pressing his face to the glass, he gazed inside and found the same stark white interior in the kitchen. He peered around the area at the back alley and parking lot, imagining the killer climbing up and into this window. Who? Who would climb in, spike his beer, and kill Jonathan? And why?
Wishing he had the answer to the question that plagued him night and day, Gale hopped down and stared at the reflections on the glass. The image of blood haunted his slumber. If only things could have been different. If only Jonathan was still alive and they fell in love.
In defeat, he kicked at the gravel and walked back around the building, picking up his helmet. He took one last look at the place and told himself never to drive down that road again.
Still having no destination in mind, he hopped back on his bike and headed to the Hill.
Riding south on Fifteenth Avenue cruising passed the shops and restaurants, Gale hadn’t eaten since the day before and couldn’t imagine putting anything into his stomach.
An urge to find closure caused him to turn sharply into a lane where grassy fields holding granite stones marked the paths.
A community of the dead. He knew Jonathan was here. He’d read the obituary in the paper.
His motorcycle seemed too loud for the melancholy atmosphere so he idled it and let it roll.
A white Porsche was parked on the side of the narrow path. Gale continued his search, his stomach tightening at the sudden sight. ‘Strickland’ was deeply etched into a smooth granite surface. Absolutely amazed he’d found their family plot in this maze of stone, he stopped his bike and immediately shut off the engine.
Gale sat completely still absorbing the image.
It was gradually working itself into a hellish torment. Finding some inner courage, he took a deep breath and climbed off the Harley. He removed his helmet, standing tall, letting the wind blow back his hair.
He walked towards it, almost against his will. He wasn’t ready to see it and knew it only served as torture.
As if he were reliving his own death, Gale found himself in front of a fresh grave. New sod had been laid over the soft loose soil. His eyes overflowing with tears, Gale gazed down at it for some time, then his knees weakened. Dropping to the ground and allowing his helmet roll away, Gale dug his fingers into the wet, spongy turf and groaned pathetically while hot tears rolled down his cheeks. “Jonathan. Jonathan...” His voice sounded hoarse and distant even to himself. “Who did this to you?”
As the agony grew to hysteria, he felt it welling in his chest. Never in his wildest dreams did he think it would hurt like this. I’m gone. I’ve totally lost it. What am I going to do...what am I going to do?
Choking with sobs, bent over the grave and its bouquets of flowers, Gale rocked as he wailed, unable to stop the flowing salty rivers of tears.
He felt someone come up behind him, watching him.
Gale dug deep for the strength to glance over his shoulder. A good looking young man was standing over him, wearing Docker slacks and a cotton pullover.
“You murdering bastard. What the hell are you doing here?”
Holding back his emotions enough to actually hear and interact with another human being, Gale tried and see through his tears.
The young man showed his teeth in a snarl and crossed his arms tightly. “Get the fuck out of here.” He growled. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
Needing to recover from his grief and thinking no one had a right to tell him to leave, Gale ignored him and brushed the dirt off his palms, wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands.
When Gale didn’t react, the young man said, “Get out of here. Now!”
Not interested in obeying anyone, Gale didn’t respond. He was struggling to get a better hold on his feelings. Inhaling and exhaling deeply, he couldn’t stop staring at the grave.
“I said now.” The man grabbed Gale by the jacket and hauled him to his feet roughly.
Even in the event of oncoming violence, Gale remained passive and mute. And Gale was most certainly about to get punched. The young man made all the pre-battle gestures of someone who will fight for his cause. “I’m not going to ask you again.”
“Leave me alone.” Gale couldn’t care less what this jerk wanted.
“How dare you show yourself here. Get the hell out of here, you fucking-bastard-slut. You know you did it. You know you killed my father.”
At that one word, Gale gasped. “Father?”
“What the hell did you think? I was another one of his fucking ‘kept boys’? How did you get away with it, you fucking bastard.” Jerry was shaking visibly. “Will you get the fuck away from him?”
Astounded this was Jerald Strickland in the flesh, Gale studied him intensely. Every detail. Every line. It was Jonathan’s eyes. Jonathan’s mouth. Even the shape of his face. He was almost six feet tall and slim, with dark short hair. A Cartier adorned his wrist and the white Porsche loomed in the background.
At Gale’s inspection, Jerry appeared ready to strike him.
Caught in a dream, Gale stared spellbound at the similarities to Jonathan. It was so obvious he could have pointed out each overlapping detail. After giving Jerry’s entirety a once over, Gale narrowed his gaze on Jerry’s eyes and felt the force of their hatred in agony. It triggered a sudden memory of all the conversations he and Jonathan had about him. Gale instantly ‘read’ that Jerry and Jonathan had become so angry at each other they had stopped speaking. He knew Jerry’s pain in an instant.
Jerry’s argument with his dad was left unresolved, answered by the grave. Now Jerry had to live out his life with this anger on his conscience.
Jerry glanced around the graveyard. “I’ll get someone to help me have you forcibly removed.”
Gale sank to the dewy grass to think as he stared up at Jerry’s stiff posture.
“I said, I don’t want you here.” Jerry made a cliché gesture to roll up his sleeves.
Unimpressed with the display, Gale frowned bitterly and gazed at the swaying poplars. “I guess I can’t blame you for hating me. I didn’t kill him, but I feel responsible for his death.”
Jerry choked a noise of disbelief. “I can’t believe this shit. You lying bastard.” He clenched his fists. “This legal system sucks. How can they justify letting you out?”
Gale knew there was too much rage in Jerry right now and nothing he would say would be heard. He crossed his legs and pushed the hair back from his eyes. “I’m not lying to you, Jerry.” Gale could see it shocked Jerry that he knew his name, and he was glad he remembered it. “I didn’t kill him. I had no reason to.”
“Shut up.” Jerry looked away. “Why am I even talking to this slut?”
“I cared for him. I needed him.” Gale brushed at a tear.
“You needed his fucking money. Don’t give me that ‘care’ shit. You used him and got what you wanted.”
“Maybe it was the money in the beginning. But he and I had a connection. He was a difficult man to get to know. But I think I served a purpose for him.”
Jerry grabbed Gale’s jacket again and yanked it. “I should kill you, you son-of-a bitch.”
Taking his dare, Gale narrowed his eyes at him. “Do me a favor. Make it quick.”
Jerry shoved Gale back and paced anxiously. “What do you want? Why did you come here?”
“Looking for an answer.” Gale turned back to the tombstone. “He was all I had, really. I can’t handle it without him yet.” He wiped at his face as the tears renewed.
Jerry rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes from what appeared to Gale as frustration.
Gale remembered Jerry’s addiction to cocaine and noticed Jerry kept patting his trouser pocket nervously.
Relaxing on the soft turf, Gale leaned back and gestured to the car. “Nice.”
Jerry dropped his hand abruptly to his side and peered back to where Gale was pointing. He shook his head. “You’re an idiot.”
“Your dad gave you everything you wanted, didn’t he, Jerry?” Gale said, “You had money, an expensive car, an education. What? Earning a degree from the U-Dub? Poor thing.”
“Shut up. Will you just shut up?” Jerry growled. “You should talk, you fucking asshole. You sucked off his money and for what? Nothing.”
“I gave him more than you ever did.”
Jerry rushed toward him menacingly. “I swear it.” He held up a warning finger.
“He told me all about you. The two of you weren’t even talking to each other anymore. Right? Do you have any idea how much that hurt him?”
Jerry glared at him. “You have some nerve accusing me. I can’t believe my ears. You must be out of your mind.”
“He told me how you were addicted to coke. That he felt helpless and couldn’t get you off that poison. That your studies were suffering, you were failing your exams.” Gale figured he’d go for broke and see if he was right. Jonathan alluded to the issues, but wasn’t one to vent. Hardly.
Looking slightly overwhelmed by the knowledge Gale had, Jerry started to retreat towards his immaculate white Porsche. He spun back to say, “It was his fault. He was always nagging at me. He wasn’t there to encourage me. I couldn’t please him. It didn’t matter what my grades were. I had to be the best. How the hell was I supposed to live up to that?”
“Oh, get out the violin,” Gale mocked him. “Did you ever once treat him like a human being? Of course he wanted you to succeed. He loved you. He was devastated about the lack of communication you had. And don’t even get me started on what your mother did to him. The ice queen.”
“Leave her out of this. Who the fuck do you think you are?”
“Who am I?” Gale blinked. “I was the one he got his rocks off with. Think about it, Jerry. Did your mom and dad have a healthy marriage?”
That stopped Jerry in his tracks. It looked as if Jerry heard what Gale was saying for the first time.
Knowing he hit the right cord, Gale watched the wheels turning in Jerry’s head. “He was very alone, Jerry. I eased that loneliness. I couldn’t so much as lay a finger on him in anger. Will you please believe me? Someone drugged my fucking drink. I swear to you. I did not kill your dad.” Forcing himself to calm down Gale heard the last syllable of his own voice crack with his misery. And like a tidal wave was coming, Gale covered his face to hide his fresh tears.
Jerry exhaled loudly.
Gale controlled himself once again and said, “This is useless. All this arguing won’t bring him back to us.” In irritation, Gale tugged out blades of grass and tore them into little pieces.
“No, he won’t come back.” Jerry lowered his head and appeared to let go of some toxic anger.
“Jerry,” Gale whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for whatever part I played in his death. I don’t know who did it or why. I’m lost without him. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I did care about him. He meant something to me.”
As if some guilt were letting go, Jerry’s shoulders dropped. He sat down next to Gale on the grass.
In the waning light, Gale raised his eyes to the angled setting sun, biting his lip on his sorrow.
“It sucks,” Jerry said, “It just sucks.”
Gale brushed off his hands and replied, “Yup.”
As the anger defused and his other senses returned, Jerry seemed to take a better look at him now that he wasn’t blind with fury. “He…Dad said it hurt him that we didn’t talk?”
Gale met with his gaze. “Don’t beat yourself up about it now, Jerry, it’s…”
“Too late.” Jerry finished it with the obvious answer.
“No. Not to change the way you feel in your heart.”
“Where did you meet him? I can’t believe my father was gay.”
Relieved at his change in demeanor, Gale sat up and scooted closer to him. “We met at a cocktail party a friend of mine threw. Do you know Muriel Brown?”
“No.” Jerry tore at his own blade of grass, focusing on Gale’s eyes. “Dad never talked about his social engagements with me. He never took Mom either.” Jerry chewed on a piece of grass. “How did the sex part start? What did he do, just flat out proposition you?”
“Why do you want to know?” Gale was curious of his motives. Was it still because he doubted his word and innocence?
“Because he was a stranger to me. I feel like I never knew him at all. And we had so much in common.”
“You did?”
Jerry watched a passing car glide by and then lowered his head. “I just ended a relationship with a man. I kept my sex life hidden from both my parents.” Jerry met Gale’s eyes. “I knew he and Mom were having problems. She called me up about a month ago and told me she thought he was having an affair. She figured it was a woman, though.”
Very glad to see Jerry softening up his rage, Gale smile sadly. “You looked so much like your father its uncanny.”
“Yeah. I’ve been told that a lot.”
“I think your mom hired a private investigator. A guy confronted me about seeing your dad. I think it upset your father to know that she was spying on him. But I guess I don’t blame her.”
“They were estranged most of their marriage. I figured Dad was just an angry bastard. They didn’t sleep in the same room.”
“Wow.” Gale brushed his hair back when the wind picked up and blew it into his eyes. “I think I remember him saying he had sex the last time when you or your sister was born. Something like that.”
“I’m twenty and Tia is eighteen. That’s a long time to go without.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t say that enough. I didn’t kill him.”
Jerry focused on Gale’s eyes. “I don’t know why. But I believe you.”
“Do killers visit their victim’s graves and cry?” Gale looked back at the marker stone.
“Maybe if they feel guilty.”
“I do. But not for committing his murder. Just for his death. Does that make sense?”
“In a warped way.” The corner of Jerry’s mouth curled.
“He came to me with an offer I couldn’t refuse.” Gale looked out at his bike and then the Porsche. “He threw so much cash at me I turned into his whore. I’m not proud of it, believe me.”
A chortle sound came from Jerry’s throat. “Dad threw money at a lot of things.”
“Maybe it was just his way of saying he cared.”
“No.” Jerry shook his head. “It was his way of shutting us up or getting what he wanted.”
Gale grimaced. “You were right. I am a fucking slut. I’m sick about what I did.”
“Did you guys love each other? I mean emotionally?”
Gale shrugged. “He never said a word about love. I wanted him to but he felt so cold.”
“Typical.” Jerry gazed out in the distance. “He never said it to me either.” Jerry asked, “What happened the night he was killed?”
Gale inhaled deeply before he could answer. Memories of that ordeal haunted him. “He must have been contacted by your mom’s PI. He kept accusing me of spilling our affair to someone. Something like that. Most of that conversation was over the phone. Next thing I knew he was at my door. I wasn’t sure why he showed up. I thought I was hearing the kiss off and that would be it.”
Gale had Jerry’s undivided attention.
“He was angry. I remember that. And I wasn’t happy about him accusing me of lying to him.” Gale said, “I wanted more than the money from him, Jerry. I craved something deeper.”
“Yeah. Good luck with that.” Jerry shook his head.
“I knew he was taking a big chance seeing me. So I decided I’d do something to end it, make him so mad he’d never call me. You know, kind of get him off the hook.”
“What did you do?”
“I…” Gale felt his cheeks burn. “I like bondage. Leather.”
“Gee, couldn’t have guessed that by the outfit and the Harley.”
Gale tried to see if Jerry was mocking him. He couldn’t tell.
“Go on.”
“I handcuffed him, just to have sex with him. Honest.”
“I cannot picture my dad submissive to anyone. Did he usually tie you up?”
“Not with ropes but he was dominant in all our contacts.”
“Figured that too.” Jerry shook his head again. “Keep going.”
“You want to hear this?’
“I need to hear this.”
Gale scrubbed his face at the gory details. After all, Jonathan was this man’s father. “I put a stupid leather hood on him. I just wanted to punish him and say, okay? I suck, go on, move on.”
Jerry stared into space.
The struggle Gale had in telling Jerry the tale was painful. His eyes burned with tears. “I was drinking from a mug before your dad came by. It was a beer and vodka mix.”
“Eww. Nasty.”
“It was all I had in the house. Anyway. After he was tied up, I sucked down the contents.”
“And?”
“It was loaded with sedatives. The crime lab said it had enough tranquilizers in it to drop a horse.”
Jerry said nothing, staring at him.
“When I woke up, he was…”
“Dead.”
Nodding his head, Gale wiped at his eyes. “I freaked. I ran like a coward to Muriel’s house and she called the cops.”
“Who did it?”
“I wish I fucking knew.” Gale choked in a sob. “I’m so angry, I swear I can’t function anymore.”
“Any suspects? Any ideas?”
“I toss and turn every night trying to figure it out.”
“So when they released you, they totally assumed you were innocent?”
“I think my lawyer said they’re searching for more evidence. They didn’t have enough to hold me.”
Jerry nodded. “So you’re still the prime candidate.”
“Yeah.” Gale wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “I feel guilty. Maybe they should hang me for it.”
Another sound of disbelief came from Jerry at the comment.
“You think I’m guilty again?”
“No. But your self-loathing is slightly misguided.”
“Huh?”
Jerry took a minute before he said, “My father was seriously evil, Gale.”
A cold chill washed over Gale’s back. “Evil?”
“Yeah. Like in cold-blooded. He was a greedy bastard that used bank funds for his own gain, foreclosed on hard working people, you know the drill. You see these CEOs on the news.”
“No. Don’t say that about your dad.”
Jerry repositioned his legs and leaned towards Gale. “He was into devil worship, Gale.”
Gale’s blood went ice in his veins.
“The guy used to go out to some warlock-club and perform rituals.”
“Fuck. Fuck.” Gale’s tattoo felt as if it was on fire.
“He scared the crap out of me and Tia. Mom knew about it and denied it. I think Dad made some deal with the devil. The guy was fifty-two and had a body like a twenty year old. He never even went to a gym. And he had so much money he was throwing it at everyone but the people he stole it from; the mortgage holders, the small business owners. Jonathan Strickland was no angel. And look what he did to you. He bought your body.”
Gale backed away, scooting on the grass.
“I swear on my life.” Jerry held up his hand. “Tia and I used to perform protection circles to keep his evil spirits away from us. The house we lived in in Bellevue was filled with demonic creatures. I used to wake up at night to shadow demons choking and scratching me.”
Gale staggered to his feet, feeling bile rise in his throat.
“It’s the truth.” Jerry stood. “He was into all sorts of sick shit. I was scared of him. Afraid to cross him. And he wondered why I did drugs?”
Gale kept retreating until he touched concrete. He realized it was the family headstone with Strickland etched on it. “No.”
“Don’t believe me. I don’t care.”
“M…my mom…” Gale felt his throat tighten. “My mom did it too.”
Jerry jerked his head around quickly at the comment. “Shut the fuck up!”
“When I was fifteen she dragged me into the dark side.” Gale looked around the cemetery before he opened his leather jacket and raised his shirt.
“Holy fuck!”
“I’m not into it, Jerry. I’m trying like hell to get the demons out of my life.”
“You have to fight them every day. Tia and I don’t go to my parents’ house much anymore. Something paranormal happens every time we do. The place is loaded with demons.”
“Mom opened a door and I can’t close the circle. Muriel, the woman I mentioned. She’s a witch, but she can’t help either. She’s tried.”
“Ever use a priest.”
“I don’t need an exorcism. I’m not possessed.”
“No. To cleanse your home.”
Gale frowned. “What home?”
Jerry glanced around the empty cemetery and moved closer. “You’re homeless now?”
“They evicted me. I don’t blame them. Your dad gave me some cash, but I have to find another place to live. I was going to try and get a better apartment, but now I just want to find any shithole I can afford.”
“Where were you living?”
“The U-district.”
Jerry shook his head. “Good luck ridding demons from that area. It’s so full of dark things.”
Gale was in shock. The amount he and Jerry had in common was beginning to seem strange, almost too coincidental.
“Where do you sleep at night? A homeless shelter?”
“Why do you want to know? I’m not leaving town, don’t worry.”
“Huh?” Jerry gave Gale a curious tilt of the head.
“The detectives still think I did it. So…” Gale opened his palms up as if the rest was obvious.
“The press painted a very ugly picture of you, Gale. They had you convicted and hung even before you were formally charged.”
“Thank Frank Pasco, my ex-boss who works for The Times. I think it became personal. The guy hated me.”
“Very weird. That kind of shit taints a jury pool. You would have had to change venue.”
“You need to finish undergrad school and go to law school.”
Jerry gave Gale a slight smile. “Don’t preach to me like Dad did.”
“Never.”
Silence past. Gale watched a car come and go, a crow fly overhead.
Jerry brushed off his hands. “So? What’s the future prediction for the life of Gale Hansen?”
Wishing he knew that answer, Gale shrugged. “I don’t know. I kill myself?”
Jerry studied him closely. Gale noticed Jerry actually glance down at his wrists. Thinking it was a mechanical reaction to the comment and in no way did Jerry expect to find anything, when he spotted the scar on Gale’s wrist, Jerry jolted.
“You’re not serious.”
“What have I got to live for, Jerry? I feel as if that final spell has been cast. The devil wanted my soul and now he’s gotten it. Only I didn’t sell it to him this time, he came for it forcibly.”
“Stop. Don’t talk that way. It empowers him.”
“I know. But sometimes I feel as if I’d be better off dead. No one wants me near them now. I’m a ‘pariah’.” Gale gave a sad laugh at Melvin’s prophetic statement.
“It’s starting to rain harder. You want to grab a cup of coffee somewhere?”
Gale was stunned. “What? Is this the same Jerald Strickland I was almost assaulted by ten minutes ago?”
“Gale, I was fed the same crap everyone else was about you. The ‘crazed leather S&M killer’. I guess I’m having a hard time believing them now that I’ve had a chance to talk to you. I’m having a better time believing you.”
Curious as to why he could be so naïvely trusting, Gale asked, “How can you be sure?”
“I just am. Why am I getting a feeling that you were a victim of this murder as well?”
Gale let out a low laugh. “I’m amazed. I didn’t think anyone but Muriel and my attorney would ever believe me.”
“Come on. My treat.” He reached out his hand to Gale.
Clasping that helping hand, Gale was completely confused and greatly relieved. “Thanks, Jerry. I’m glad you believe me. It means a lot to me that you do.”
“You know where B & O Espresso is?” Jerry took his keys out of his pocket.
“Yes.”
Jerry winked. “Follow me.”
~
Gale sipped his sweet coffee and scanned the noisy, packed room. He was being inspected by several male occupants. Gale didn’t spend much time on Capitol Hill though it was where the majority of gay men lived in Seattle. “Do you come to this place often?”
Jerry stuck his fork into the blueberry tart and peeked around. “Yes, why?”
Gale shook his head at someone who stared at him too long for his comfort.
Glancing over his shoulder, Jerry laughed. “Someone flirting with you?”
Gale caught Jerry’s eye quickly. “I hope not.”
“Why?” Jerry ate another bite of his dessert.
“I don’t know. It’s just after everything that’s happened, I feel really overwhelmed.” Gale tried to avoid the eyes of another staring man. He fussed with his hair so it covered most of his face.
“What are you doing?”
“Hiding. God knows what these people think. My fucking picture was in the paper labeled as a satanic murderer.”
“They’re not looking at you because you’re a criminal. They’re staring because you’re fucking gorgeous.”
“Bull shit.” Gale tried to disappear as he drank his coffee
“I’m jealous as shit of my old man.”
Unsure of whether to be horrified or relieved, Gale’s mouth opened.
Jerry used the opportunity to try to feed Gale some dessert.
Gale leaned back and stopped him. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“With me?” Jerry asked. “Don’t you want a taste?”
At the impropriety of the act, Gale glanced around nervously. “Look, even I think this a little outrageous. One minute you want to avenge your father’s death and kill me, the next minute you’re stuffing blueberry torte in my mouth.”
Setting his fork down, Jerry rested on his elbows across the table. “I know what I’d like to be stuffing in your mouth.”
“Agh! Jerry…Jesus Christ.” Gale felt hot sweat cover him and took off his leather jacket.
“Look, first of all, I don’t think you killed him. Like I said before, I’m starting to believe that his death was as hard on you as it was on the rest of us, and maybe even worse for you. Now, try some of this. It’s really great.” He held up the fork.
“Jerald Strickland, I think you are a very bad boy.” Gale wagged his finger at him.
“I want to get into your pants. So? Sue me.” Jerry shifted under the table so their knees were touching. “And I am, very, very bad. You have no idea. You never told me where you’re living.”
Gale took the fork and ate the bite off of the tines. Before he could get out a word, Jerry said, “Live with me.”
Gale’s pulse quickened. “This is insane. Is this rational? Won’t my presence in your life ruin you?” Gale sat back in his chair. “It nearly ruined my attorney. I’m a walking grenade. No one is safe near me.”
“Gale, stop feeding yourself all the negativity. You know how demonic shadows work. They’ll attach themselves to you forever. Let me help you rid them.”
Gale blinked. Having a strong ally was so tempting. “Look, Jerry, you need to think very carefully about what you’re doing. You want me to move in after an hour of knowing me? Meeting me at your father’s grave?”
Boldly, Jerry reached out to push his hand into Gale’s hair. At the caress, Gale closed his mouth and studied Jerry’s eyes. They were the same as Jonathan’s eyes, only sweet, not wicked.
“I know I can’t fill my father’s shoes in financing or in handing out cash. But I think I found one place I can. Let me help you.”
Gale swallowed down a dry throat. His skin was prickling with fire. Oh, my God.
“I know how to do a protection circle. Both Tia and I had to learn it to survive. My own home was blessed with holy water. Believe me, you’re safe there.”
“But are you? Jerry, even I can see you’re thinking with your dick not your head.” Gale leaned across the table to speak privately. “I was arrested for the murder of your father. Hello?”
“You do beat a dead horse like no one I’ve seen.” Jerry finished his dessert. “I’m a sensitive and a seer. I know what my father’s tactics were. My guess is he stole a lock of your hair and used it in his spells.”
“No. There were no spells, Jerry. Just money. Your father paid me large amounts of money.”
“Those were the CEO bonuses everyone’s moaning about.” Jerry made a silly face at him.
“Exactly. While he foreclosed on the poor he paid his execs, and his sex toy money. Sick.”
“Demonic.” Jerry’s smile dropped. “My father was the ultimate satanic worshiper. Believe me. He scared the crap out of everyone.” Jerry paused. “Including you?”
Gale thought about it. “I don’t know if it was scared or intimidation. Whatever it was, I obeyed. You know. Yes, sir, no, sir.”
“Shit. I am so sorry.”
“Hey. It’s my own fault. I took the money. I felt as if I owed him. I have no one but myself to blame.”
“No. Dad was a very powerful warlock. He would have lured you any way he could.”
“He said he hadn’t had sex since he had you and your sister. Do you believe him?”
Jerry glanced around the busy café. “I do. I think he played it safe for a long time. But he must have sensed something sinister about you. He knew you dabbled in the occult. He must have known you would be easy prey.”
Gale thought about it. “You know, you might be right. When he saw my tattoo, all he said was, ‘Interesting’. I thought he’d freak and run for the hills.”
“No. Most likely he was delighted. I bet it got him hot.”
Gale was getting tired, drained from all the stress. “I can’t believe how fucked up my life has become.”
“Like I said. You need allies. I can be your ally. Let me.”
Resting his elbows on the table, Gale replied, “Don’t get involved in my mess. I bring down CEOs.”
“Dad brought himself down when he bought sex. God knows how much he waved in front of your face to get you to agree to it. It took two, Gale. And if you’re broke or hurting for money, I can see how my dad could have tempted you.”
Gale stared at Jerry, trying to do what Muriel does. Read him. He wished he had Muriel’s talent in that particular field. He did a little but not like she could.
Jerry said unexpectedly, “Come home with me tonight.”
“No. Are you insane?”
“Gale, I can begin some kind of cleansing ritual for you. My dad’s shadow spirits were nasty. I swear, they had goat heads and horns.”
Gale felt an icy chill and ignored a shadow that was moving just beyond his peripheral vision. He knew if he looked it would be gone. “I’m feeling things now. Talking about them tends to either tune me into them, or make me imagine them.”
“You’re not imagining them. They’ve been with you since I met you at dad’s grave.”
The hair rose on Gale’s arms. “Fuck.”
“Seriously, Gale. Where are you staying?”
“I stayed two nights with my attorney.”
“Oh?” Jerry finished his coffee and set the cup and saucer on his empty dessert plate.
“It was fucked up.” Gale dragged his fingers through his hair.
“Another powerful rich male seduce you?”
“Yes. But I felt obligated because he was being so kind. Muriel had already paid his legal fees. I don’t think Lawrence was evil. He just wanted to fuck me.”
“You get that a lot?”
“Depends. I either bring out the sexual predator in people or violence.”
“That’s not you. That’s the influence of an open portal into your world.”
Gale had often wondered about that, but disregarded the idea as wishful thinking. Most times he didn’t know what he did to get people angry at him. “All I want is a quiet life, Jerry. I want a partner to cuddle up with by a fireplace, snuggle in bed. You know. I’m not into the club scene. I don’t want to fuck around. I want one man in my life.”
“Did you think my dad could have been that man?”
“I did think about it. But he was so detached emotionally, I knew I was fooling myself.”
“That’s Dad all over. Cold as ice and mean as hell. Pure demon.” Jerry waited as a busboy took their empty plates. When he had left, Jerry whispered to Gale, “I think being in the position of power as owner of the bank and president of their board, corrupted Dad. But if I had to guess which came first, the satanic worship or the power? I’d guess the satanic worship.”
“I believe you. I did horrible incantations when I was fifteen with my mom. We promised to convert souls to the devil for drugs and money.”
Jerry shook his head. “Always backfires.”
“My mom is still into it. I can’t see her anymore. She casts spells at me trying to lure me back into the lifestyle. She still gets high. Pathetic at her age.”
“How old is she?”
“Thirty-eight.”
Jerry appeared as if he were trying to do the math.
“She was fifteen when she had me. I don’t know my real dad. She married Melvin Hansen when she was pregnant with me. They think I don’t know. They never admitted it, but I figured it out.”
“Tough life. I can see how Dad’s offer looked so appealing. Money, the potential partnership. That’s what the devil does. He waves all the things you need or desire in front of your face.”
“What do you need and desire, Jerry?”
Jerry smiled shyly. “The usual. My dreams aren’t much different than yours.”
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No.”
The attraction set in. Fear, doubt, guilt, all began slipping off Gale’s shoulders. And Jerry was absolutely charming.
“So? You want to have your first prayer circle with me tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Do you need to stop anywhere first to get anything you need?”
Gale replied, “I have a feeling everything I need is already with me.”
“Why is it all I can think about is kissing your lips?” Jerry threw money on the table for a tip.
That’s the one thing your father never did.
Before Jerry stood, he touched Gale’s arm. “I know my dad would never kiss.”
Gale gasped loudly. “Another Muriel Brown.”
“No. I’m just not stupid and I can imagine the scenario with him.” Jerry stood up, pushing in his chair. “I guess it had its moments, but my take on it would be; he took what he wanted. As he wanted.”
Gale didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. As he left the café Gale felt light headed. It was mostly because he hadn’t eaten in nearly eight hours, but he was wondering if anything was possible. If this was possible.
When Gale lagged behind, Jerry held him by the leather elbow and escorted him down the block to where they had parked. Gale’s bike was in front of the Porsche’s grill. The street was lit only by a single lamppost.
Before Gale straddled the Harley, Jerry held him back and took a quick scan of their surroundings. No one was around.
Jerry urged Gale to lean against his car, then connected to his lips.
His skin racing with chills, Gale drew Jerry closer, deepening the kiss.
Jerry pressed his hips into Gale’s leathers, showing Gale how hungry he was for him. “Finally,” Jerry whispered, “I’ve been admiring your mouth all evening.”
“You’re not afraid to be seen with the man accused of killing your father? Kissing that man?”
“Fuck em if they can’t take a joke.”
“Jerry. Be sensible.”
“It’s my fucking life. You think I care what others think of me? If you do, get to know me better. You’ll soon see that’s not me at all.” He cupped Gale’s cheek. “Wait until I get you behind closed doors, Gale Hansen.”
Like he was a princess that needed wooing, Gale received a more sensuous kisses. Gale was starved for them. They felt real to him. Jerry had a warmth of light, an aura that surrounded him like a suit of armor, or perhaps the halo of God. Whatever it was, Gale craved it. It was as if Jerry had the key to making him whole.
“Will you follow me?” Jerry caressed Gale’s hair.
Gale found Jerry’s blue/gray eyes. “Yes.”
~
The townhouse off Broadway was stylishly decorated with minimalist furniture in light blue and white hues with splashes of bold color, but Gale didn’t have much time to get a feel for the place. Determined to get him inside and naked, Jerry removed both their jackets, dropped them on a sofa, then held Gale’s hand dragged him to the hall. They kissed as if they had been lovers for decades, deep tongue penetrating kisses that left Gale weak in the knees.
Gale was pulled through the bedroom doorway while Jerry stripped his own clothing off, tossing items into the air wildly.
Giddy at the prospect of good, real loving, Gale was trying not to laugh at how crazy it was.
When Jerry tugged Gale’s leather pants down and got his first look at his cock, he sucked a hissing breath of air through his teeth. “Oh, you are so fabulous, Gale. Look at your dick.”
“That’s funny. I was thinking the same thing about you.” Gale stepped out of his boots and pants, peeled his shirt over his head and stood naked, staring at Jerry.
Jerry sat back on his heels, pressed his hand over the tattoo and shook his head. “This symbol has got to go, babe. It’s keeping the door to the shadow demons open.”
“Shut up, Jerald, or you’ll blow the mood,” Gale warned.
“Sorry.” Jerry stood and asked, “Have you had an HIV test, Gale?”
“Yes. Negative. You?”
“Negative.”
Like he was desperate for another taste, Jerry wrapped his arms around Gale’s waist and kissed his lips, squeezing him tightly. They ground their stiff cocks together, making Gale hot and eager.
Jerry led him to the bed to get them horizontal, groaning as he felt the texture of Gale’s skin. He licked and sucked on Gale’s tongue. “I want you to fuck me.”
“Yes.” Gale sighed in delight, having always been on the receiving end of these encounters. “Finally.”
“I had a feeling that would make happy.” Jerry squirmed on the sheets, spreading his legs. “Rubbers and lube in the nightstand.”
“Hang on. I’m not ready yet.” Gale crawled over the blankets between Jerry’s legs. Wrapping an arm under each of Jerry’s thighs, Gale burrowed into Jerry’s crotch, inhaling his musky scent. “That is so nice.”
“No shit.” Jerry raised his hips off the bed.
Gale couldn’t express the joy in him to have a partner, not a drill sergeant, to make love to. Make love. Not wham-bam, fuck-you, man.
He ran slow wet laps along the crease of Jerry’s body where his pelvis met his groin, working his way to his balls, engulfing them and rolling them on his tongue. How Gale craved good, mutual sex with a man he wanted. It was food for his soul.
“Yes…” Jerry stroked Gale’s hair, encouraging him.
“Nice?”
“Nice.”
Gale held the base of Jerry’s dick and lapped the underside, wiggling the tip of his tongue to the sensitive spot under the head. A sweet moan was his reward.
Pointing that perfect cock towards his mouth, Gale took it as deep as he could, sucking hard and twisting his mouth on Jerry’s stiff length.
“Holy shit.” Jerry’s hips bucked. “Wow.”
Gale continued to enjoy him, giving Jerry the long, leisurely head he had always imagined he was capable of, but never had the chance to do to Jonathan. But this man was unique. He was a kindred.
Gale felt a presence in the room.
“Ignore it.” Jerry obviously had too. “If you acknowledge it, you’ll give it power.”
You’re so right. Gale sucked quicker, deeper, tugging and massaging Jerry’s balls. The shadow tried to distract him, playing games with his peripheral vision. Gale closed his eyes and at first envisioned white light surrounding he and Jerry, then focused on Jerry’s cock exclusively.
Jerry’s pre-cum gave Gale a hint of what Jerry’s essence tasted like. He liked it. Gale got to his knees and drew on Jerry’s cock more aggressively, making Jerry moan and thrust his hips off the bed.
“I’m there. I’m there.”
Gale immediately pressed his fingertip into Jerry’s rim, causing Jerry to grunt in pleasure and his cum to shoot out. Sucking, swallowing as Jerry’s load filled his mouth, Gale moaned with him, loving the taste, scent and feel of this man.
“Fuck me, babe.”
“My pleasure.” Gale wiped his mouth and reached for the rubber. It was then he spotted a beaded rosary hanging from Jerry’s bedpost. Unreal. Yup, kindred spirits.
As Jerry recuperated, milking his own cock gently, Gale used lube on his index finger to open Jerry up. “Has it been a while since you’ve taken it up the ass?”
“No. I use dildos.”
“Oh!” Gale laughed. “Okay.”
“Love it.” Jerry’s smile looked wicked, but Gale knew it wasn’t demonic like Jonathan’s grin.
“Hump away.”
“I could love a guy like you.” Gale pushed the head of his dick against Jerry’s rim.
“Yeah. I’m hoping that too.”
The glow of warmth from Jerry’s words vanished as another shadow passed by the bed.
“Gale.” Jerry’s voice was stern. “Fuck me. Don’t give it your time.”
It almost made Gale lose his hard-on. He tried to jack his dick to prevent it.
Jerry sat up and held Gale’s face, kissing him, going wild with his tongue. Gale’s dick responded, thickening up. With Jerry’s guidance, Gale put the head of his cock on target and pushed inside. Jerry lay back down and helped Gale with complete penetration.
“Come on, Gale. Show me what you want.”
“I want to please you.” Gale’s eyes burned with affection.
“You have. Please yourself too.”
When Jerry began toying with his flaccid cock, Gale rocked into him watching both Jerry’s expression of passion and the teasing act of playing with himself.
“Fuck me, gorgeous.”
A chill of pleasure rushed over Gale. He braced his hands on the bed and began thrusting with more purpose.
“That’s it.”
Gale couldn’t remember the last time he’d topped. He missed it. Preferred it.
“Yeah. Yeah…that’s it.” Jerry’s face became a mask of ecstasy.
The wash of lust Gale was feeling for him increased tenfold. “I want to come in you.”
“Come in me.”
“I want you to feel my dick shoot its wad.” Sweat trickled down Gale’s neck and temples.
“Shoot your wad. Come on…fuck me.”
His balls tightened up as Jerry’s hand worked his own cock like crazy, a blur of motion.
“Yes. Oh, babe!” Gale jammed his dick inside Jerry’s ass as deep as he could and came, closing his eyes at the intensity.
“You are amazing.”
Gale laughed but it came out more like a cough he was so exhausted. He pulled out and dropped down on top of Jerry.
“Lover…lover…” Jerry tightened his embrace and rocked Gale on the bed.
Your father never called me that. Gale felt a tear escape his eye and roll down his cheek, dropping onto Jerry’s hot skin.
“You’re capable of love, Gale. And of being loved.”
Gale met his eyes.
“And I’m going to prove it to you.”
“Thank you. Thank you for having faith in me. Believing me.”
“Come here.” Jerry drew Gale even closer so their bodies were overlapping.
Gale tossed the condom onto the floor and snuggled against Jerry’s dewy skin.
“We’ll win, Gale. Feel how strong we are together.”
Taking a moment, Gale shut his eyes again and tried to sense the power of their combined spirit and auras. It was an awesome sensation. A white and blue cocoon of thread and ribbons encircled them like a shield.
“No one, and nothing, will penetrate that.” Jerry squeezed him.
“Peace. Peace in my head.” Gale cried. “I have prayed for that my entire life.” A sob came out of his throat before he could bite it back.
“Peace. Peace.” Jerry chanted softly.
It lulled Gale to sleep.
Chapter 20
Gale woke in Jerry’s arms. He smiled. It felt so safe, so sane. He wasn’t used to it and wished he could get used to it.
Irony. It had filled his life with chaos before. Was irony actually on his side now? Wasn’t it ironic that the son of a man he was suspected of murdering could now become his lover, partner, and lifelong soul-mate? It was too absurd to believe. I can’t be that lucky.

Jerry’s morning erection was tenting the sheet. “Mm.” Gale had one as well. He reached for the protection that had been left on the side table. Gale slid the rubber on, then grabbed the lube. “Nice ass.”
“Thanks.” Jerry laughed into the pillows.
“Oh. You’re awake. Very cool.”
“Believe me. I would wake up with your dick up my ass.”
“Can I?”
Jerry wriggled his bottom against Gale, indicating yes.
Gale waited as Jerry bent one knee and opened up for him.
In order to aid him, Jerry reached between his own legs to point Gale in the right direction. “On target. All systems go.”
“That’s better.” Gale pushed in. “Damn. That’s tight. Tighter than pussy.”
“You like pussy?” Jerry laughed.
“Fuck no.”
“Then stop talking about it and fuck me.”
“I intend to.” He held onto Jerry’s hips and pumped.
“Hey. Hey. You forgot something.” Jerry tried to get Gale’s hands onto his own cock.
“I got ya.” Gale used his slick palms to jerk Jerry off simultaneously. “Ah. Fuck that is so good.” Gale felt the climax starting. “Holy crap, I’m about to blow.” He couldn’t get over how good it felt.
Jerry clamped his own hands around Gale’s and helped catch up. “I’m with you.”
Gale came but kept fucking Jerry until he did as well. His cock felt so rigid from the stimulation of Jerry’s loving, Gale imagined he could fuck him all day, and he wanted to.
He heard Jerry moan and felt his cock shiver in his fingers. “There ya go.” Gale was still hard as he moved in and out of Jerry gently.
“Man, that internal massage is to die for.” Jerry whimpered. “You’re still hard. You are some lover. You’re ready to go again, aren’t you?”
“Yes. It feels so good.” Gale kept up a slow pace. “You want me to pull out?”
“No way. Go baby go.”
“Can we stay in bed all day?” Gale kissed the back of Jerry’s neck.
“Hell yes. Fuck going to class.”
“My God. Heaven. I finally found heaven.” Gale cupped Jerry’s genitals as he continued to screw him gently.
“’bout time.”
“’bout time,” Gale agreed.
They made love until they were so tired, they fell back asleep.
~
He was wearing his black leathers. The mask was on his own head. Through it he could see Jonathan on his bed, smiling. Jonathan laughed, but it sounded hollow to his covered ears. On the table behind him Gale spotted a leather whip and picked it up. Suddenly Jonathan’s expression had changed to fear. Immediately Gale dropped the whip and hurried over to comfort him. Struggling with both hands, Gale tried to pull the hood off his head, but couldn’t. Giving up, he embraced Jonathan closely and cried, “I’m so glad you’re alive. They must have made a terrible mistake.” He felt the hood restricting his eyesight. Soon Gale was blinded by it and tore at it angrily to get it off his head. In terror, he heard something coming and spun around to a door. A gun was pointed at him and a high-pitched laughter echoed in his head. Muriel’s laughter, Muriel’s naked body. In sheer panic, Gale shivered and clawed at the demonic mask. No! Muriel! It’s me. Don’t shoot. Oh, my god. It’s me! Wait!

Gale sat up with a gasp, the sweat dripping off his body. He panted and shivered as he tried to remember where he was.

At his movement, Jerry rolled over on the bed. “Gale? You okay?”
Finally coming around and settling down, Gale exhaled and wiped his forehead. “Yeah, just a bad dream. Go back to sleep.”
Jerry leaned up on his elbows touched Gale’s forehead in the dimness. They had made love most of the day until they were exhausted and slept soundly afterward.
Propped up on his side, Jerry waited until Gale had resettled himself, then brushed his hair back from his face. “Can I get you anything?”
“No, I’m fine. Go to sleep.” Still trying to recall the nightmare, Gale took away Jerry’s caressing hand and held it to his chest.
Jerry could obviously feel his accelerated heartbeat behind his ribs. Wanting to comfort him, Jerry wrapped his arms around Gale and moved so their bodies overlapped, then he kissed Gale’s cheek, snuggling.
Focusing on the images, Gale relaxed his breathing and recalled the dream vividly. Muriel with a gun. Muriel pulling the trigger. Unsuccessfully Gale tried to close his eyes again to sleep, but couldn’t.
Craving security when he was frightened, Gale squeezed Jerry close.
“It will stop, Gale. But it takes time.”
“I know.”
“Nothing will happen to you now.”
Gale wasn’t so sure.
~
At eight the next morning, Gale ate breakfast with Jerry and waited for him to head off to his Friday classes at the University.
Mounting his Harley and setting out for Muriel’s house, Gale wanted to speak to her, if only to reassure himself that dreams were simply not reality. After a ride north against the flow of rush hour traffic, he parked in her driveway and shut off the engine.
Martha raised a snooty nose at the early visitor and showed Gale in reluctantly. Expecting Muriel to still be in bed, Gale was surprised to be escorted to the sunroom where she lounged in her robe and ostrich feather slippers; hot pink, to match her toenails and wig.
“Well!” She rose up, smiling, evidently happy to see him. “I thought I wouldn’t see you again for some time.” Muriel embraced him, kissing his cheek, wiping a trace of lipstick left behind. “Gale, my sweet, why has it been an eternity since you’ve contacted me?” Clasping his hand she brought him to sit with her.
Gale allowed the show of affection until she sat on the sofa, patting the spot beside her. He removed his jacket. “It’s only been a week. You knew I’d come around sooner or later.” He lay it down on a chair and scanned the room mechanically, as if some clue of whether she murdered Jonathan would jump out at him.
“Are you hungry? You must be famished.” She called out for Martha.
“No, I just had breakfast. Thanks anyway.”
“Nonsense. I know all your favorites. Scones and jam?” She baby talked, “Coffee with milk and sugar.” She giggled. “I know all your little tastes and desires…Martha, coffee and scones, dear, please.” Martha bowed politely and left.
“So? How’s it going?” Gale asked, feeling awkward.
“Sit. Sit down and tell me all about what happened. Where are you staying?”
Satisfied there were no booby-traps or weapons of mass destruction in the area, he rested on the couch and leaned his elbow on the back, crossing his legs. “At a friend’s. Have you heard anything about the investigation? I keep expecting the detective to contact me.”
“How can he, darling, when no one knows where you are?”
Preventing a full blown roll of his eyes at her patronizing, Gale avoided the obvious query and spied around the room once again.
Muriel threw out a tasty morsel. “Detective Martin was here a few days ago asking about your mother.”
“Detective Martin? Asking about Mom?” Grabbing the bait, Gale snapped quickly back to attention.
“Yes, dear.” She seemed to be enjoying the knowledge and the hold it had over him.
“What about?” He grew defensive.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said with a musical lilt. “Some silly trivial things about the two of you. I wouldn’t worry. I’m sure it was just his idle curiosity. They’re so nosy,” she whispered.
Concerned as to why his mother would be involved, Gale didn’t like the police bothering her with all that painful history. She needed to recover. Having forgotten about her because of the recent events, Gale wondered if the hospital staff would let him see her. Maybe he could just have a short visit to check on her progress.
“Let me see what’s keeping the food. A few scones can’t possibly be that much of a bother.” She got off the couch and scampered out.
Gale brooded. Why couldn’t he figure anything out and why wouldn’t anyone give him a straight answer? Crossing his arms over his chest, he stared into space.
Muriel poked her head into the room. “It’s all set out in the conservatory, shall we?”
“Why would the detective be asking Mom questions about Jonathan’s murder?”
“I resent your tone. The detective used it as well and I didn’t tell him one useful bit of information either.”
“Why was he here questioning you?” Gale asked, “Does he suspect you as well?”
“How can anyone expect to be assisted when they use such an offensive tone of voice? What nonsense. Come. The food is on the table.” She turned away.
Gale hurried after her. “Why can’t you answer my questions?”
She sat down and placed a napkin on her lap. “Because you’re acting like a child. Sit down and eat. Look, I’ve poured your coffee.” She finished filling his cup and buttered a warm scone for him, setting it on his plate.
Convinced she wouldn’t spill any information, even under torture, Gale sighed and dragged over a chair. Before he sipped his coffee he wondered if she would drug him. Was she the murderer? He hesitated before consuming any of the food, looking down at it.
At his actions, Muriel grew irritated. “What’s wrong? I don’t see you for a week and when I finally do you behave horribly to me.”
Pouting, giving in, Gale exhaled and raised the scone to his mouth.
Muriel sipped from her cup of coffee. “Now. What are you doing for money? Are you working?”
“I could use a few bucks.” He swallowed down a mouthful of fresh orange juice.
“In my purse.” She nodded. “Over there.”
Setting his scone down, Gale wiped off his hands on a napkin and reached back for it.
“In my wallet. Take what you need,” she said.
He finished chewing and opened the clasp. Digging around all her womanly things; the lipstick, the powder, the nail file, he then found her leather wallet. As he lifted it out of her purse, he heard something hit the floor. He bent down and raised the item to inspect. It was a prescription bottle. “What are these?”
Mid-chew, she stopped short at his excited tone. “My pills, darling. What do you think they are?”
“But. It’s zolpidem.” He cringed in horror.
“Yes, I know. I use it to help me sleep. They are my prescription, I assure you.”
“But…but…” His face felt ashen.
As if his behavior was completely over the top, she asked, “What is it? Gale?”
Petrified at the discovery, he stood and the purse fell to the floor. “You…you…” he stammered, unable to voice it.
“Gale. Stop this nonsense and tell me what’s going on.”
Wanting to get away from her and this house, Gale swallowed to calm himself forcefully before he was able to say, “Muriel. This is what I was drugged with the night of Jonathan’s murder.”
“And your assumption?”
Wanting to be sure, he lifted the vial and reread it.
“Why don’t you say what it is you’re thinking, Gale, dear,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him.
Meeting her furious gaze, he finally mustered up the courage to ask, “Muriel, did you know about me and Jonathan before the murder?”
“Are you accusing me?” she asked.
“Did you know?” He was trying to think in blocks of time, turning back the pages so he could find the precise moment it may have happened. “That day you got me out of jail. Jonathan was with you. He took me away with him. You must have figured it out then.”
“Don’t be absurd. How was I—”
“Then that day I met you in the parking lot of my apartment. You saw my new watch. Remember how suspicious you were?”
“Gale, stop this babbling. You really have gone too far.”
“Then the night I came to you. The night of the murder. You.” He choked at the memory of them in bed together. It was becoming very clear to him now. “When…when you slept naked with me.” He clenched his teeth at the anger that recollection brought with it. “Did you think that was the last time you would ever see me? Did you think I was going to jail for life?”
She was speechless, staring at him like he was a total stranger.
“Muriel. Did you kill Jonathan?”
Appearing insulted to the highest degree, she rose to her feet in a calculated fury. “Get out.”
Gale backed out of the room, staring at her wild eyes. “Were you jealous of Lawrence too? Would you have killed him if I had stayed there?”
In blind rage, Muriel grabbed a plate and hurled it at him. It smashed on the hardwood floor.
Gale snatched his jacket and helmet, racing out of the house. He started the Harley, trembling at what he felt was the discovery of the truth. Gale rode back to Jerry’s townhouse on Lakeview Boulevard with a million thoughts rushing through his head.
He elevated the garage door with his own set of keys and remote control and parked the bike beside the white sports car. With leaping bounds, he hurried up the front porch steps, hardly giving a glance at thunderstorm brewing over the Olympic Mountain range.
He wondered if he should call the detective about Muriel. It started to make perfect sense. She had motive and opportunity. Maybe he should call Lawrence.
Without a thought, he turned his key and to his surprise he heard voices coming from inside. A woman was arguing with Jerry. He wondered if Jerry had a girlfriend as well.
“You stupid asshole. How could you even think of doing something like this? You need a shrink.”
“Tia, calm down. Look, he didn’t do it. You have to believe me.”
“Believe you? You take the man accused of murdering Daddy into your home to screw and you expect me to believe you? I’ll find you dead in a few days. You’re insane.”
Gale stopped short after hearing her name. This woman was Jerry’s sister.
Tia pivoted around and caught her breath at the shock of seeing Gale in the living room.
Like a guilty little boy, Gale stood still, his head bowed, his lips tight from the conversation he had interrupted.
Tia moved across the room to confront him. “Bastard,” she said with hatred.
Expecting a torrent of emotion, Gale flinched, but didn’t meet her eye.
Jerry stepped between them, moving her back, away from Gale. “I said you don’t understand. He didn’t kill Dad. He was a victim of Dad’s demonic rituals. Tia, are you even listening to anything I’m saying?”
Through her brother’s protests, Tia glared at Gale with every ounce of hatred she possessed. Shoving Jerry out of her way violently, she sneered up at Gale with teeth bared. “I don’t know what kind of spell you have over my family, Gale Hansen, but I want to see you rot in hell for what you did.”
“Tia.” Jerry grabbed her arm and tugged her back roughly.
The feelings of guilt and responsibility endless in him, Gale finally raised his eyelashes to meet her gaze.
“If you hurt my brother, I’ll kill you. If he’s too stupid to see through you, then I’ll have to be the one,” she warned.
With little effort, Gale could feel the anguish in her with his empathic skill. She and Jonathan were not at odds. The loss had been devastating to her. “You’re right. He died because of me.”
At his words, she almost flew at him in rage. “Then you admit you killed him?”
“I didn’t say that. I said it was because of me. I didn’t kill him.”
“It’s the same goddamn thing.” In fury, she rushed Gale and started pounding her fists into his chest. Jerry wrapped his arms around her from behind and held her back.
Gale never moved. He just allowed Tia to take her frustrations out on him.
Tia huffed and twisted out of her brother’s grip to face him. “You stupid shit. Daddy would kill you himself for this one. Shacking up with his murderer?”
As her accusations grew ugly, Jerry’s expression darkened. Experiencing the pain she caused Jerry through his psychic senses, Gale flinched and couldn’t take the torture she was inflicting on him. “Look, you talk about me hurting your brother. What the hell do you think you’re doing to him right now?”
Like a rabid feline, she spun around to Gale and snarled in his face. “What you’re capable of doing doesn’t compare to this,” she said. “When my mother finds out, she’ll get a court order separating you.”
Shocked at her threat, Jerry grabbed Tia and turned her around. “Don’t you dare. I’m warning you, Tia. I’ll never speak to you again. Just leave us alone. I don’t care if you believe us. Just don’t you dare screw this up for me.”
Giving up, she headed for the front door, then looked back to say, “It’s your life. You couldn’t possibly fuck it up any more than this.”
Gale flinched as she slammed the door. After shaking off the effect of her tirade, Gale removed his jacket and collapsed onto the couch. Jerry stood still, collecting his thoughts.
“Come here.” Gale craned his finger in invitation.
Appearing confused and horribly upset, Jerry broke his trance on thin air, dropping down next to Gale. Gale curled him into an embrace, kissing his cheek. “So, dear, how was your day?”
At the sad joke, Jerry laughed softly.
“Want to hear about mine? I think I might know who killed your father.”
~
Following a long debate with Jerry, Gale took a deep breath and dialed the homicide office directly.
“This is Detective Martin.”
“Detective. It’s Gale Hansen.”
“What can I do for you, Gale?”
“I…I just wanted to ask you if you think you know who killed Jonathan yet.”
“Why? Do you have a confession for me?”
Gale cleared his throat. “You still think it was me.”
“What did you have to tell me?”
“Well, I was over at Muriel Brown’s today and I found something that disturbed me.”
“Like what?”
“She has a prescription for zolpidem and keeps the pills in her purse.”
“And?”
“That’s pretty incriminating. Don’t you think?” “It isn’t exactly enough to convict her, Gale.”
“Then you’re not going to do anything?”
“I’ll give it some thought and phone her again if I think it’s necessary.”
Hoping it would crack the case, Gale brooded. “You think I killed him. I can read between the lines, Detective.”
“Look, I’m still researching it. But, I would like to know a number where I can contact you. Are you still in Seattle?”
“Yes.” Gale sighed. “You think I was going to skip town?”
“Stranger things have happened. Uh, you have a phone number?”
Gale gave the detective Jerry’s home number.
“Thanks, oh, by the way, would you be able to stop at my office sometime later today?”
“Why?” Gale panicked.
“I would like to ask you some questions.”
“Can’t you ask them now?”
“No. Not over the phone. I’d appreciate it if you came in.”
“Do I need my lawyer?”
“I don’t think so, no.” He paused. “So, around four?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Gale hung up and frowned at Jerry. “He wants to see me. He didn’t believe a word I said.”
“He will. Hang in there.”
“I need my lawyer with me. I’m not going alone.”
“I’ll come too.”
Gale nodded and dug Lawrence’s business card out of his wallet. He dialed and waited. “Lawrence? It’s Gale.”
“Hi, Gale. Have you found a place to live? I still have some of your things at my place.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll make arrangements to get it.”
“What can I do for you?”
“Detective Martin wants to talk to me again. Will you come with me?”
“Sure. When?”
“At four o’clock today at the homicide office. I’m really scared. You think they found something on me?”
“No. He’d have come to your place with a marked patrol unit if he had.”
“He doesn’t know where I’m staying.”
“Oh.” Lawrence said, “I don’t know, but I guess we’ll find out.”
At the nerves kicking in, Gale’s teeth began chattering. He said, “I’m freaking out. Help me, Lawrence.”
Jerry moved nearer, realizing Gale was trembling. He put his arm around Gale’s shoulder. Gale tried to stop shaking as Jerry comforted him.
“I’ll meet you there. Don’t worry.”
“Thank you, Lawrence. I’ll see you soon.” Gale hung up and hugged Jerry, loving the care.
Jerry rubbed Gale’s back affectionately. “Don’t worry.” Jerry nuzzled into his hair. “We’ll get through this.”
“I’m sorry for involving you in my mess.”
“Shh. Don’t worry.”
Gale nod weakly and backed up to see his face.
Jerry reached out to cup Gale’s jaw. “We’ll work it out.”
Gale made contact with Jerry’s mouth, trying to be reassured by his kiss.
~
During the drive downtown, Gale asked Jerry to turn the music louder so he couldn’t think about what was happening. Gale held his hand tightly as he and Jerry kept their opinions to themselves.
After parking in a multi-level parking garage, they rode the elevator to the homicide office.
Jerry asked, “Did the detective say what he wanted to talk to you about?”
“No.” Gale noticed Lawrence already waiting near the office. They reached out to each other to shake hands.
“How you doing, babe?” Lawrence asked Gale.
At the affectionate term Gale worried at what Jerry may think. “Good. Lawrence, this is Jerry Strickland.”
Lawrence extended his hand to Jerry, then asked with a shocked expression, “Strickland? As in Jonathan?” “Yes. He’s my father.”
Before Lawrence probed further, Gale nudged him to the walk down the hall. “What’s this all about, Lawrence? Do you know?”
“No.” Lawrence rapped his knuckles on the detective’s door and said to Gale, “Did Jerry complain? Does he have information that can incriminate you?”
“No. Nothing like that.” Gale reached to clasp Jerry’s hand. Lawrence appeared dumbfounded.
Jerry, meanwhile, was checking Lawrence out from head to toe.
“Come in.” Gale heard the detective’s voice from the other side of the door.
As the three men entered the office, Detective Martin raised his head from his paperwork. “I said you didn’t need your attorney.”
“Pretend I’m not here then.” Lawrence pushed one of the chairs against the wall by a bookcase, sitting down and crossing his arms.
“And who are you?” the detective asked Jerry.
“He’s with me. His name’s Jerry.” Gale gave Jerry a glance as if telling him not to reveal any more information. Jerry waved hello to the detective and sat down next to Lawrence.
“You didn’t need an entourage.” Detective Martin exhaled a weary breath and gestured for Gale to have a seat in the chair across from him. “Right. I want to know more about your relationship with your mother.”
At the line of questioning, Gale’s mouth opened in surprise. It was the last thing he expected and instantly regretted inviting the two men with him. “What?”
Detective Martin asked, “How long did the pseudo-sexualsatanic relationship last?”
Gale broke out into a sweat, clearing his throat. “Why is this important?”
“Are you refusing to answer the question?”
Growing flustered, imagining some sort of trick on the detective’s part, Gale shifted in his seat in anxiety. “No. I just don’t know why it’s relevant.” Gale pushed his hair out of his eyes, then checked Lawrence for his guidance. When Lawrence nodded calmly for Gale to answer him, Gale bit his lip. “Um…I guess about three years.”
Scribbling into his notes, the detective asked, “Have you ever had intercourse with her?”
Almost toppling off the chair in horror, Gale stood up abruptly and turned to Lawrence, “Can he ask me that?”
Lawrence approached the detective who remained passive, seated in front of a bookcase jammed with files and notebooks. “What’s the deal, Martin? This just meant to antagonize him?”
The detective said, “I don’t want to antagonize him. I have the same questions to ask him about Muriel Brown. Almost identical in nature.”
Afraid to blink, Gale made a little noise from his throat at the personal nature of the query. “Christ. He doesn’t need to know that, Lawrence.” He spun from his lawyer to the detective frantically, avoiding Jerry’s gaze at all cost. “Does he have to know that?”
Lawrence touched Gale’s shoulder to give him a reassuring squeeze, then addressed the detective again, “Can you tell me why this is important to this case?”
Dropping his pen down in a gesture of frustration, Detective Martin said, “Both of these women are potential suspects. If we know that the motive is jealousy, then we have something to go on. If we know Gale has had recent relations with either of them, then the motive increases in intensity. Do you see my point?”
Lawrence urged Gale to look at him full on. “He’s only trying to solve this case, Gale. I think I can see what he’s driving at.”
Stuttering, not wanting Jerry to even suspect that either scenario was possible, Gale shook his head adamantly. “No! The answer to both questions is no. Even if you hung me by my thumbs over roaring flames, I’d never admit to having sex with either of them. Got it?” He met Jerry’s eyes. “I didn’t, Jerry.”
Lawrence said, “At least he doesn’t suspect you any longer.”
“I never said that.”
At the flat comment, Gale stared at Detective Martin in surprise.
The detective said, “I haven’t ruled anything out. There is a substantial lack of evidence in this case. It’s impossible to say anything with accuracy. Gale was still the one present at the time of the murder. He was still the trick that Strickland was trying to rid himself of.”
At that last callous line, Gale flew across the desk. Just as quickly, Lawrence grabbed him and yanked him back.
The black strap of the detective’s shoulder holster was visible from under his jacket. Detective Martin stood and straightened himself out angrily. “I should put you away for that. Let your lawyer tell you about assaulting an officer.”
His muscles tense, battle ready, Gale felt Lawrence’s firm grip on him.
Then Gale remembered Jerry’s silent presence and couldn’t imagine what he thought of these accusations.
“The interview is terminated. If you want my client to answer any more questions, formally charge him.”
“Carlson,” the detective said.
Gale felt Lawrence jolt while he nudged Gale to the door.
Jerry paused to listen, as if all the information he was gleaning was of the utmost importance. And Gale knew it was.
“Don’t involve yourself in Hansen’s private life. Someone is very jealous and is willing to kill,” the detective warned.
“Why don’t you get off your butt and find your murderer.”
“Just stay the hell off his,” the detective replied.
Gale choked and tried not to look into Jerry’s suspicious gaze.
At the overt insinuation, Lawrence closed the door behind them.
Humiliated by the entire episode, Gale wished the detective had told him what he was going to ask before he came down. Having both Lawrence and Jerry hear those horrible questions was torture. Gale didn’t want anyone to know about his sordid past, or present for that matter.
One brooding boyfriend and one preoccupied attorney beside him, Gale walked the yellowish lit hall to the elevator in silence. When they were in the seclusion of the elevator’s box, Gale exhaled tiredly. “Guys, my mother would never do anything like that. She’s crazy, but not violent. She couldn’t kill Jonathan. And I’ve been gay all my life. I didn’t have sex with either one of them. My mother? Jesus, how sick is that?”
“The problem is, Gale, he has nothing to go on and he’s trying to grasp at what little he has. He can’t convict anyone of you on the sparse evidence he has so far. Not beyond a reasonable doubt.”
“Who killed him, Lawrence? And why are they about to get away with it? There are no more clues. His suspect list is lame.” Gale felt Jerry clasp his hand. “I’m sorry, Jerry. Sorry to put you through this with me.”
“It’s okay.”
“How did you guys meet? I don’t get this?”
“Jealous?” Jerry asked, his eyes gleaming.
Gale squeezed Jerry’s hand to ask him to behave. “Don’t. We’re all on the same side. Okay?”
Jerry asked Lawrence, “How much are you charging him for this?”
“Muriel paid him,” Gale said quickly, before Lawrence could respond.
“Send the bill for this to me.” Jerry reached for his wallet.
“There’s no charge.” Lawrence appeared wary of Jerry’s offer.
The three of them exited the elevator and walked to the parking garage.
“Look, Gale, just don’t worry about the detective. It’s not worth getting yourself sick over. He’s going to ask questions until he gets what he wants.”
Gale held tight to Jerry’s hand as they crossed the street. “A confession?”
“Ha.” Lawrence replied, “Oh, that’d make his day.”
“What would make yours?” Jerry whispered into Gale’s ear seductively.
Gale gave him a loving smile.
They stopped when they realized their cars were parked in opposite directions. “Thank you, Lawrence.” Gale reached out his hand.
Lawrence embraced Gale, catching him off guard. Gale panicked and backed him off. “No.” He met Lawrence’s stare and shook his head to clarify his stance on their relationship.
“Call me if you need me.” Lawrence waved and walked away, not looking back.
“I hate the fact that he fucked you.”
“Jerry. Please.” Gale continued their walk to the Porsche. “I’m yours now. Yours. I don’t want anyone else.” Gale caressed Jerry’s hair.
~
Tolerating the tie-up and snarls on the local roads on the way back, they eventually drove into the parking garage of Jerry’s townhouse.
Drained of energy from the meeting, Gale followed Jerry inside, shutting the door and taking off his coat.
“Come here.” Gale wrapped his arms around Jerry’s waist and squeezed him. “Wanna fuck?”
Jerry let out a one syllable laugh and then stared into Gale’s eyes.
“Does that mean yes?” Gale kissed his jaw.
“Yes.”
“Good. Get naked and in bed.” Gale pressed his cock against him.
Jerry smiled and obeyed.
Gale stared back at the front door and hoped things would be all right. The session with the detective left him feeling nervous. He followed Jerry into the bedroom, and stopped to see Jerry standing still.
“You okay?”
Without a verbal reply, Jerry reached out his hand to Gale. Gale closed the gap between them and stood beside him. Jerry held the rosary in one hand and Gale’s hand in the other. Closing his eyes, Jerry said, “I ask you Jesus to protect us from Satan. Use your power of light to fill our hearts with love and battle hate. Light surround us, God’s love protect us.”
Gale squeezed Jerry’s hand tighter. He didn’t want to see shadow demons while they made love.
“Say it with me.” Jerry met Gale’s eyes. “Satan be gone.”
“Satan be gone.”
“Again.”
Gale and Jerry repeated the phrase, growing stronger, louder each time.
They both became silent. Gale listened. He sensed nothing.
“We have a window of opportunity. But, Gale, we need to cleanse you, and now this place too.”
“I’m sorry I brought it with me, Jerry. I’m so sorry.”
“I’m used to it. Dad had the worst demons attached to him. I had to use holy water all over the house where he and Mom lived when I stayed there. Dad was furious with me for ‘violating’ his home. Believe that?”
“How could I not have known?” Gale began undressing.
“He didn’t wear his religion on his torso.” Jerry brushed his fingers over Gale’s tattoo. “Babe. That has to go. That keeps the door open.”
“Yes. I know.”
Jerry gently draped the rosary over the bedpost and gave Gale a delicious smile in invitation.
“I feel like I’ve known you all my life. It’s uncanny.” Gale helped Jerry take off his shirt.
“You have, and in a life before that, and before that. We’ll get it right this time.”
Déjà vu raced over Gale like a wave of warm sea water. “Yes. This time I’m going to get it right.”
Once Jerry was topless, Gale sucked at his nipple. It was tiny and dark against Jerry’s pale Seattle complexion. Gale worked on the little nub while Jerry toed off his shoes and opened his zipper.
Making a gap between them, Gale finished undressing, staring at Jerry’s nicely rounded pectoral muscles as he did. Jerry stepped out of his pants and briefs coaxing Gale back onto the bed.
Before Gale began kissing him, he waited long enough to sense anything watching; shadows, demons. It seemed the area was cleansed for now.
“If you imagine them, you’ll invite them.”
“Sorry. Force of habit. I’ve been living with it for too long.”
“Talk later.” Jerry cupped the back of Gale’s head and drew him to his mouth.
Gale pinned Jerry to the bed, straddling over his hips, rubbing their hard cocks together, igniting the fire.
“Mm. You taste and smell so good,” Jerry crooned, digging his fingers through Gale’s hair.
“You too. So good.” Gale kissed Jerry’s neck, making his way downwards. He took his time with both Jerry’s nipples, enjoying making him whimper and squirm, and ran a trail of kisses down his midsection to his treasure trail.
When Gale met Jerry’s cock, he lapped at the slit and head, holding it upright and imagining him coming in his mouth. “I want to suck you dry.”
“Be my guest.”
Smiling at the reply, Gale made himself comfortable and enveloped Jerry’s cock into his mouth. He sucked strongly, using his tongue to tickle under the head. Jerry began fucking Gale’s mouth, holding him in place.
While Jerry fucked him orally, Gale massaged his balls and wet a finger to penetrate Jerry’s rim. Jerry’s hips bucked and he groaned his delight. Music to Gale’s ears.
A taste of pre-cum gave Gale the incentive to work harder. He knelt up, one hand on the base of Jerry’s cock, the other between Jerry’s legs deeply rubbing the root and Jerry’s puckered rim.
“Oh, yeah.” Jerry’s body tensed and his hips began to thrust deeper.
Gale amped up the suction and hand motion, turning his head in a twisting rhythm to add to Jerry’s pleasure.
“That’s it. Gale…”
Jerry grunted a deep masculine sound and Gale’s mouth filled with spunk. Another load followed. Gale hummed and closed his eyes as he swallowed. He gripped Jerry’s cock and milked it with hard, slow fisting, lapping at the drops that appeared on the head.
“Gale…holy shit.” Jerry caught his breath.
“Mm. Love making you come.” Gale kissed him and Jerry gripped Gale’s jaw and turned up the passion to toe-curling heat. The emotion, the raw love was something Gale remembered in a dream or a past life. But whatever this connection was, it was powerful.
Jerry spread his legs, bent his knees and opened up his body while still engaging Gale’s tongue and lips. The craving to penetrate Jerry was growing.
At one point Jerry broke the kiss to reach to the nightstand. Gale was sheathed with a rubber, and Jerry used the lubrication to oil him up. Once Gale was ready, Jerry pointed his dick on target. “Fuck me, my angel.”
The amount of light Gale felt around him from that term of endearment almost blinded him. A halo of grace and love filled Gale like he had never felt before. Without hesitation, Gale drove inside his lover, sliding deep into Jerry’s body as Jerry vocalized his joy in the giving.
“Baby…baby…” Gale arched his back and pumped his cock into this male treat like he was on fire. “So good. So good.”
“Our souls are united. We’re one.”
“Yes.” Gale felt a chill run up his spine and the orgasm became a demand he could not hold back. The amount of sensation accompanying the climax nearly caused him to enter another realm of reality. Gale closed his eyes and concentrated on the source. The middle of his torso was the epicenter. It expanded to his groin, then grew in a star-like pattern to his extremities. “Ahhh, fuck!” Gale jammed his dick inside Jerry as hard as he could, while Jerry held Gale tight, keeping that connection as close and as intense as possible.
Pulsating rushes rocked Gale’s cock and flashes of light appeared under his closed eyelids. “Holy Christ.” Gale’s skin broke out in a chill and his dick continued to pulsate. “Jerry, Jerry….you are the most amazing lover I have ever had.”
Jerry embraced Gale and rolled him in his arms. “I want to say I love you. I don’t know why. Honest. I don’t know why.”
Gale had the same reaction, but was terrified to vocalize that strong a commitment to a man he’d known so briefly and under terrifying circumstances. “I think it’s because we’ve loved each other before.”
“Yes. Hold me.”
Gale pulled out gently, dropped his weight down on top of Jerry and encircled Jerry’s back with his arms. “I got you.”
He heard Jerry exhale a deep stress-releasing breath and duplicated it. “And I got you.” Gale closed his eyes. Chapter 21

With Jerry at classes Monday afternoon, Gale had an impulse to go visit his mother at the hospital, if for nothing else, than to comfort her about the line of questioning the detective had taken with her. Gale felt responsible for his mother’s involvement and knew she wasn’t capable of violence. Guilt had surfaced in him. He’d at the very least, apologize and go home.

That much he could do.
He parked his Harley and removed his helmet, walking to the entrance. Trying to look harmless in his jeans and leather jacket, the helmet tucked under his arm, Gale approached the reception desk and waited for the woman’s attention.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes. I’m Gale Hansen, Patty Hansen’s son. And I’d like to visit her. Can you tell me which room she’s in?”
“Oh. Wait one moment.” The woman tapped keys on a computer. “She’s checked out.”
“Really?” Gale wished someone had called him. “Do you know when?”
“Yes. She just checked out yesterday. I’m sorry.”
“No. It’s good news. Thanks.”
Gale left the hospital hoping Melvin wasn’t home when he stopped by to see his mother. Then again, maybe having Melvin there would be better, in case seeing him made Patty regress again.
“I never know what the right thing to do is.” Gale was about to put on his helmet when he noticed a tow truck driver trying to hook his bike.
“Hey!” Gale sprinted over. “What are you doing?”
The cigarette in the man’s mouth went slack. “It was in a handicapped zone.”
Gale replied, “It won’t be in a minute.”
“You better ask the cop over there.”
At the word, ‘cop’, Gale grew sick and pivoted on his heels to see a patrol officer making his way towards him. “Thanks a fucking lot.”
The tow truck driver held up his hands in defense. “Hey, he called me.”
After sticking his helmet on his head, Gale put his hands on his hips and waited for the officer’s approach. A small crowd of spectators gathered.
“That your bike?” The officer pointed to it.
“Yes.”
“Are you Gale Hansen?”
“Yes.” Gale began getting a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.
“Didn’t you see it was a marked handicapped zone?” The officer gestured to the sign.
Trying to come up with a plausible excuse, Gale widened his stance and rubbed his rough jaw, glancing around at all the curious faces. “What the hell are you staring at?” he asked them.
The police officer looked around at the audience with little interest, then back at Gale. “I already wrote out the ticket, but since you came back before the truck hooked your bike, I’ll let you ride it home. I’ll get your ticket. Wait here,” the officer said. He headed to his patrol car, glancing backwards a few times at Gale.
“Thanks. Look, I’m sorry. I haven’t been thinking straight lately,” Gale yelled after him.
The tow truck driver climbed back into his rig and the diesel engine and reverse warning beep was loud as it backed up.
Gale shifted in his boots at the cop’s look of suspicion. He knew he wasn’t exactly Mr. Popularity with law enforcement at the moment. In fact, he never was. Not wanting any trouble, Gale waited as the officer climbed into his patrol car.
Thinking that it would only be a minute to reach in and get a ticket, Gale was concerned when the officer picked up his car radio and spoke into it. What now? Gale felt his heart beating in his chest.
Meanwhile another marked patrol unit stopped behind the first and the uniformed officer got out, leaning into the first officer’s patrol car.
As things appeared to escalate beyond his control, Gale tried to remain calm. An extremely difficult task. He once again caught people staring at him and snarled in fury. “Leave me the fuck alone!”
At Gale’s shout, the second officer raised his head quickly and made for Gale, his hand on the butt of his holstered gun.
“Jesus!” Gale took a step back in fear, holding up his hands.
“You don’t have any weapons on you now, do you?”
“What? Weapons? No.” Gale felt pale.
“Mind if I check?”
“No, of course not.” Gale raised his hands higher and was surprised when he was grabbed by his jacket and pushed over the hood of the first officer’s patrol car. “Shit. What the fuck did I do?” With the number of spectators growing, Gale was patted down efficiently.
“Stay put.” The officer went back to the first one, who was still seated with the radio in his hand.
Gale watched them both shaking their heads, no. No? No what? No weapon? Oh, Jesus Christ, they’re checking to see if I have the murder weapon on me? Oh, no. Gale swallowed down his fear.
Sick with the implications, Gale dreaded this was how his life would be from now on; under suspicion, patted down at every opportunity, and made into a public spectacle. In defeat, he lay his helmet-covered head on his arm, on the warm patrol car’s hood and wondered how he could live this way, forever.
The officers approached and moved to either side of Gale as he lay prone over the car.
“Here’s your ticket.”
With an effort at getting himself upright again, Gale moved off the vehicle and wiped at his eyes roughly.
“No need to cry, it’s only a fucking ticket.” The cop laughed as he handed it to him.
“Yeah, right. Just a ticket.” Gale read it. “What? Three hundred and seventy-five bucks?”
“Now, you can cry.” The cops laughed as they headed back to their cars.
Gaping at the sum, Gale stood still as they both drove away.
~
After the incident, Gale headed straight to Jerry’s place. There was no way he was going to deal with his mother or Melvin. Not with a ticket and public humiliation slapping him senseless.
Lying on Jerry’s bed, staring at the ceiling, Gale recalled the last few months again in his mind, trying to sort out the details. Someone was jealous enough to kill Jonathan. Jealous of him? Or Jonathan? He ran over it again and again in his head until it ached. The answer was there. It had to be.
Raising his shirt, Gale took a look at the dreaded pentagram on his skin. He had to make an appointment to get rid of it. Jerry was right. Having it present was not helping him.
The sound of a key in the front door caught his attention. Gale listened as Jerry called out his name. When Jerry peeked around the wall and spotted Gale on his bed he gave him an adoring smile. “Hello, my gorgeous lover.”
“Hey, babe. How was class?”
“Tolerable. I think without Dad’s constant harping, and with your good loving, I’m dealing better.” Jerry sat on the bed near him, running his hand over Gale’s denim thigh. When Gale felt his palm cup over his crotch he heard Jerry groan sensually.
“I’ve been thinking about this cock all day. I couldn’t concentrate in class.”
“Come here.” Gale reached out and dragged Jerry into his arms, cuddling him. He petted Jerry’s hair and nuzzled his neck and cheek. “I care about you so much.”
“Me too.” Jerry kissed Gale.
“Your dad said you were into coke. Are you?”
“No.”
“Tell me the truth, Jerry. I want you clean and chemical free.”
“It was hard to stop, but I did.”
“Cold turkey? When?”
“The day I heard he died.”
Gale touched Jerry’s jaw, making Jerry look into his face, judging his sincerity.
Jerry asked, “Do you trust me?”
“Yes. I do trust you. If you tell me you’re clean, I believe you.”
Gale noticed an ironic smile form on Jerry’s mouth. “You’re the first person who does. No one ever believes me when I say I’ve quit.”
“Have you ever quit and succeeded before?”
“No.”
Gale didn’t have to reply to Jerry’s answer. He could tell by Jerry’s expression that Jerry knew what Gale was thinking.
“But with you, I can do anything.”
“That’s my man.” Gale kissed him.
“Don’t worry. You can trust me. I’m never going to touch that nasty shit again.” Jerry held up his hand in a vow. “Do you swear to believe me?”
“I do.” Gale mirrored the hand gesture.
“That’s all I ever wanted. Someone to believe in me.”
“You got it.”
“God, I love you so much! I don’t care if it is too soon.” Jerry pounced on top of Gale and wiggled on him.
“I don’t believe you can ever be wrong to tell someone you love them.”
“Tell me.” Jerry leaned up, gazing down at Gale in expectation.
“I love you.” And Gale meant every word.
The expression of love he received back was tenfold. Gale caressed Jerry’s cheek and they kissed.
Chapter 22

Muriel sat in her sun porch though there was nothing to see outdoors but rain. Sipping her latte and reading through the paper, she hummed to herself until she noticed a headline. Straightening up her back, she folded the paper and held it high to read. ‘Strickland Murder Suspect Gale Hansen Living With Slain Banker’s Son’.

She tried to catch her breath from the shock, struggling to be rational. Muriel finished reading the article and set the paper down, staring out at the rain.

Her maid came rushing into the small glass enclosed room where Muriel was sitting.
Calmly, Muriel said, “I’m fine, Martha. It’s nothing. Go about your business.”
Martha gawked at her in astonishment.
“Really. I’m fine. Get back to work.” Muriel smiled weakly.
Martha walked out of the room. Muriel overheard her say to herself, “I’ve never heard such a scream in all my life.”
Spent, drained, Muriel stared out at the rain, struggling with a constant state of exhaustion. She knew she could not continue the game. Quite simply, she couldn’t win. She was too old, too out of shape, too homely and not even the right sex. So, Gale had found money as well. What could she possibly offer him now that he didn’t have?
~
Even though Gale was in the bathroom commencing with his morning routine, he could hear the telephone conversation Jerry was having in the bedroom, right outside the door.
“Mom, shut up and listen to me. I was going to tell you.” Jerry sounded exasperated. “Mom. Just listen to me for one second and I’ll explain.” Gale heard Jerry take a deep breath before he said, “All right. Now, I was going to tell you myself. I just thought you needed more time to recover from Dad’s death. I wasn’t going to go running to you about Gale after that.”
Gale finished shaving and leaned over the sink to splash his face.
“Look, I’m sorry you found out this way, but he’s good for me. He can get me off the cocaine. Are you listening, Mother? Yes. I’ve been gay since high-school. What do you mean you don’t believe me? Did it ever occur to you I’ve never had a girlfriend? Shy? Me?”
Gale peeked out of the bathroom to see Jerry rubbing his forehead.
“Do you really know me at all? Oh, here we go. Don’t blame Dad. I refuse to go through this again. I’ll stop by so we can talk. I’ll bring Gale. Okay, I won’t bring Gale. He didn’t kill Dad. Will you give me some credit? Fine.”
Jerry slammed down the phone and appeared to be trying to calm himself. He met Gale’s eyes and shook his head. “I need coffee. I’ll get a pot started.” Jerry left the room.
Gale felt terrible for him. He shut the light in the bathroom and put on a pair of clean blue jeans and a t-shirt. When Gale entered the kitchen he waited as Jerry prepared the coffee machine. Once it began dripping, the phone rang.
“Oh, no.” Jerry moaned. “That article is going to cause us so much grief.” He grumbled and picked it up. “Hello?”
“What article?” Gale removed two mugs from the cabinet and set them on the table.
“Who is this?” Jerry snapped angrily. “Oh. Hi. Hang on.” He handed Gale the phone. “It’s for you.”
“Who is it?” Gale was hesitant.
“Your lawyer.”
A mixture of relief and fear gripped Gale as he took it from Jerry. “Lawrence?”
“Gale, I’m glad you’re there. Have you got some time to see me today?”
Jerry poured them each a cup of coffee, keeping his eye on Gale.
“Why?” He hoped Lawrence didn’t expect another encounter.
“I’d rather tell you in person. Have you heard from Detective Martin yet?”
Hearing that name Gale felt his cheeks lose color. “Oh no. What the hell’s going on?”
At Gale’s tone, Jerry stopped what he was doing and gave Gale his undivided attention.
Lawrence said, “I really don’t want to get into it over the telephone.”
“Lawrence,” Gale whined.
“Look, just tell Jerry to watch himself.”
“Why?” Instantly sick to his stomach, Gale met Jerry’s worried gaze.
“Someone threatened me.”
“Threatened? How?” Gale’s temper ignited as well as his fear.
“Nothing too serious, just some red painted graffiti on my front door.”
“Red paint? Please don’t tell me it’s an inverted pentagram.” Gale massaged his tattoo in agony.
“Yes. It was just a juvenile prank.”
“A prank? Oh Jesus, Lawrence.” Scrubbing his face in anguish, Gale knew nothing was to be taken lightly any longer.
“Stop worrying. You’ve got other things to worry about.”
“What now?”
“Did you see today’s Times?” Lawrence asked.
Frantically, Gale scanned around the kitchen as Jerry waited impatiently for the details. He found the paper and told Lawrence he had. “Is there something in it that says I’m living with Jerry?”
“Yes. Page three. Bottom right.”
Fumbling with it on the kitchen table, Gale turned the pages anxiously and read the article that Jerry had referred to while on the phone to his mother. “Fuck. I’ll kill him.”
“Kill who?”
“Frank Pasco. He’s the guy I used to work for at The Times. I told you, remember? I swear he’s got it out for me now. How can he do this? How can the paper tell everyone where I’m living? Isn’t there a law against it?”
“No. I’m sorry, Gale. There isn’t.”
“There should be. This just makes us a target.” Gale shook his head at Jerry. “Is that all that happened, Lawrence? Just the graffiti on your front door and this crapola in the newspaper?”
“Yes. So far. I’ve made a police report about the property damage.”
“Please watch out. I swear, this is not just some prank. I’m convinced this is the killer who’s doing it.”
“You don’t know that.”
Gale met Jerry’s stare. “I’m afraid I do, Lawrence. Be very careful.”
“I will. I just thought you should know.”
“I appreciate it. Thank you. Bye.” Gale hung up, watching Jerry put two slices of bread in the toaster. Seeing his preoccupied expression, Gale wrapped his arms around him from behind. “You okay?”
After a long exhale, Jerry said, “I just spent the whole morning on the phone trying to justify the fact that I’m gay and living with you to my mother.”
“Did she figure it out from the article?”
“Of course. The whole goddamn world will.”
Gale released him and spun him around to face him. “It’s just the cocaine withdrawals making you uptight.”
“Uptight? Are you listening to a word I’m saying?”
“Yes, I’m listening. You just told your mother you’re queer and living with a murderer.”
“Oh, fuck you.” He tried to get away.
Not letting him go anywhere, Gale held him firm. “Shut up and kiss me.”
Looking into Gale’s face, Jerry grinned wryly. “You do get away with murder with those looks of your, Gale Hansen.”
“Oh, yes. Murder.” He shook his head sadly, then kissed him. “You and I didn’t get our morning screw.”
“I guess Mom’s phone call distracted me.” Jerry coiled his arms around Gale’s waist. “So, your attorney got nailed with some demonic marker?”
“Yes. Someone tagged his front door with the same inverted pentagram as they did to my front door before your dad’s murder.” Gale held Jerry’s hand and led him to the bedroom.
“What do you make of it?” Jerry sat down beside Gale.
“It’s a threat. I think the murderer learned I was living there, but too late. I was only there two nights. Obviously with the news in the paper, Lawrence doesn’t have anything to worry about.” Gale removed his shirt. “We do.”
“I can handle it.” Jerry undressed.
“You say that, but the killer has a gun. Do you own a gun?”
“No.” Once Jerry was naked he lay on the bed. “But I have something stronger.”
“Even God can’t make us bulletproof.” Gale reclined beside him, stroking Jerry’s shoulder.
“We just need to complete that circle and close the door. I wish Tia wasn’t so upset. She’s a powerful influence. I have one other friend who’s into it. I can invite him.”
“I would love to get Muriel to help. She’s powerful as well. But after my last visit, accusing her…” Gale shrugged.
“One step at a time.” Jerry tugged on Gale’s flaccid cock.
“Step one,” Gale said, “Get our dicks hard.”
Jerry laughed softly. “See? Simple.”
In a joking tone, Gale replied, “Why can’t anything in my life be simple?”
“Shut up and kiss me.”
Gale scooped Jerry into his arms and ran his tongue over his lips. He felt Jerry’s cock perk up and rub against him. “I can lose myself on you.”
“Then lose yourself. We deserve a little heaven in all this living hell.”
Gale took a look around the room at the naming of Satan’s domain.
“Sorry.” Jerry touched Gale’s jaw and directed him back at his mouth.
At the caress of Jerry’s lips and fingertips, Gale began to float into carnal lust and eternal love.
~
Thrusting into Jerry’s body, his skin dripping with sweat and about to come, Gale heard Jerry’s whimpers as he too was close.
A loud banging noise startled them. Gale sat up and couldn’t catch his breath.
Jerry tried to comfort him. “It was most likely a neighbor.”
“Fuck.” Gale lost his erection and grew frustrated. “I can’t live this way, Jerry. I have to do something. I can’t sit by and wait for some demonic killer to hurt you. I have to fight back.”
Jerry sat up, taking the rubber off Gale’s soft cock. “Let me make some phone calls. We’ll get a group together this weekend, including a priest I know.”
“It’ll rid the shadow demons, but not your dad’s killer. I’m afraid that’s a living human being. We’re sitting ducks.”
Jerry held him tight. Gale tried to feel solace in his embrace, but until he knew Jonathan’s killer was behind bars, he could not relax.
Chapter 23

Late on an October Friday night, Gale heard the wind blowing in hard from the Puget Sound. The rain soaked the streets and ran along the curbs in a tide of swollen rivers. Even a gap in the drenching torrent would be considered a welcome break.

A beer at his lips, Gale flipped channels with the remote as he stood in front of the television.
“How about ordering a pizza?” Jerry approached Gale.
“Shit.”
“What?”
“Look at this.” Gale pointed the remote control at the television. A reporter was standing in front of the bank Jonathan had owned and controlled.
“It has recently come to light that the late Jonathan Strickland and Gale Hansen may have been involved in satanic worship while they were together.”
Gale’s blood boiled. “Why are they doing this? Jonathan has been dead for almost two weeks. Come on. Is this necessary?”
Having the same distasteful reaction, Jerry bristled in anger. “I can’t believe they think this is news. For God sakes, there’re two wars on right now. What the fuck is wrong with them?”
Sick of the exploitation, Gale shut off the TV, tossed the remote control onto the couch, and tipped his beer back, finishing it.
Jerry stood staring at the blank set.
It had put them both in a foul mood. Gale peeked at him over the beer’s neck and approached him, wanting to snap Jerry out of it. He placed the bottle down and stuck his nose into Jerry’s pout. “Fagetaboutit.”
Jerry lowered his eyes and said, “Yeah, yeah. I know. I’m trying, but they keep throwing it in my face.”
Gale kissed him and felt Jerry’s reluctance to respond. “Stop. It’ll only end up pissing us both off.”
“I know.” Jerry let out a loud exhale before he kissed Gale lovingly.
Gale smiled. “Did you ask if I wanted pizza?”
“Yes. Let’s go get a pizza from Pagliacci’s.”
“Sounds good.” He hugged Jerry close, pushing his pelvis into Jerry’s. “Can’t wait for later.” Gale smiled and located his jacket, putting it on.
Jerry reacted to his playfulness and rushed after him, grabbing at his ass.
~
Inhaling the aroma of roasted garlic and pesto, Gale held the pizza box on his lap. The scent was driving them both crazy, tempting their empty stomachs.
“You finish all your homework?”
“Enough to get by for now. Why? What have you got in mind?” He gave Gale a sensuous smile.
“Heh heh.” Gale returned it. They both glanced up at the road just as a car swerved into their lane head-on. With lightning reflexes, Jerry reacted and turned sharply to the right, heading for the curb, jamming on his brakes. The Porsche came to a grinding stop, just inches from a large tree.
Gale sprang out of the car and tried to see the offending car. The rain was coming down sideways, and the passing headlights were blinding.
Accomplishing nothing more than getting himself drenched, Gale climbed back in. “They never even stopped. They could have killed us.”
Gale could tell Jerry was still trying to recover, pressing his palm over his heart to still it.
Jerry peeked up at him sheepishly.
“What?” Gale frowned in irritation. “Don’t look at me like that. It was probably just some drunken asshole.” He growled. “Stop this shit, Jerry.”
Jerry rubbed his forehead tiredly.
After taking a deep breath, Gale picked the pizza box off from the floor and lifted the lid. “It’s smashed to one side.”
Not answering him, Jerry put the car into reverse and backed away from the curb.
Gale stared at his profile as he drove into the lane of traffic and continued down Tenth Avenue East. “Jerry, please.”
Jerry’s lips were drawn into a thin line.
Gale knew exactly what he was thinking. They killed my father, they’ll try to kill me. In exhaustion, Gale leaned his head against the headrest. Will I ever have a life again? Will I always be a threat to the people around me? What bullshit.
As they drew near Jerry’s home, neither man spoke another word about it.
They ate the damaged pizza in silence.
Managing to salvage his appetite, Gale sipped a fresh beer and daydreamed of a happier life, while Jerry kept searching the room as if they were being watched constantly. Chapter 24

Saturday morning, Gale was gleaming with sweat, his chest swollen from exertion, his leather jeans felt hot in the small room. The erotic foreplay made him so excited he was afraid he’d climax just looking at Jerry’s submissive position on the bed.

Hungry for the act, he crawled between Jerry’s legs and molded his solid white bottom in his hands, admiring his perfectly rounded cheeks.

Wrapping a strong arm around those hips Gale raised them up to meet his own, then pushed his stiff cock inside Jerry in ecstasy. Gale closed his eyes, trying not to come the second he penetrated. As cool air from an unknown source wafted across Gale’s soaked skin, he resumed his deep thrusting until he heard Jerry moan and felt his cock throb in his fist. Gale jacked faster on Jerry’s thick dick, knowing how close Jerry was to orgasm.

The climax rushed up on Gale. Unable to contain the tide of sensations, Gale came. Like a strong drug, the orgasm overwhelmed him. Opening his lips, Gale cried out in a gasping breath, hearing Jerry’s howl of pure pleasure and feeling his spunk pump out into his palm.

After the act, Gale couldn’t move. He stayed motionless, attached to the Jerry under him, feeling Jerry recuperating.
Slowly coming aware, Gale blinked and knelt back on his heels to admire and caress that fantastic ass in front of him.
He heard a long low groan of pleasure. “You are so unbelievable.”
“Christ, Jerry, I feel the same. Holy shit. The sex is mindblowing.”
“I could sleep.”
“Sleep.” Gale stood and removed the condom.
“No. I have a ton of work to do. Also, I want to see if we can get together a prayer circle. You know.”
“I do.” Gale headed to the bathroom to clean up. “Let me go visit Muriel. I can apologize and ask for her help.”
“Yes.” Jerry rolled over and sat upright. “We need all the help we can get.”
“You got it, hot stuff.” Gale winked at him.
~
The drive to Woodway felt arduous as if the task of asking Muriel for forgiveness would be impossible. Gale knew in his gut Muriel was not the murderer. Painting pentagrams on victim’s doors wasn’t Muriel’s style. Not by a long shot.
He parked the bike on her driveway, cringing at the sight of the damage he had done to her manicured lawn previously. The rain had soaked the muddy ruts and filled them with water.
As he approached her door he removed his helmet, wiping the water from it with his gloved hand.
She was already standing at the door, smiling.
Unconditional love. That’s what he loved most about Muriel.
“Gale, dear.” She opened the door wide.
“Muriel.” The warmth he felt for her was instantaneous. She was his second mother, if he indeed counted Patty as his first.
“Come in. Let me take your wet things.” She waited as he placed his helmet on the floor and handed over his jacket. “Come into the sitting room.”
“Thanks, Muriel.” While Muriel handed off his dripping leather jacket to Martha, Gale rounded the corner into the Ethan Alan style upholstered room, with a roaring fire going in the hearth. He stopped short. “Mom?”
“Hello, Gale.”
Gale instantly had regrets and actually took a step back.
Muriel’s hand on his low back prevented his retreat. “It’s okay, Gale. Come in.”
Before he made a move, Gale used every sense of psychic ability he possessed to judge this meeting. Nothing felt evil. On the contrary, the air seemed light and easy to breath.
Muriel poured coffee from an urn set out on a silver tray. She prepared it for Gale the way he liked it, and gestured to a wing-backed chair across from the matching sofa she and Patty occupied.
“I’m sorry.” Gale took the cup and sat down. “I’m sorry, Muriel for my last visit.”
“We all know the pressure you’re under.”
“Mom?” Gale thought she looked sad or drained. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. They have me on happy pills. They’re better than my weed.”
“Wow.” Gale didn’t know if that was good or bad.
“We know you’re living with Jonathan’s son, Jerry.” Muriel’s smile was unnerving.
“The Times made sure everyone did.” Gale sipped his coffee.
Patty looked puzzled. “I can’t begin to wonder why you two made a connection.”
“We did. And I actually am glad you’re both here.” Gale placed his cup in the saucer on the low table. “I need your help.”
“You need money?” Muriel asked.
“Yes, but that’s not what I was going to ask.” Gale laughed. “Jerry thinks we should cast a prayer circle and close the gateway that’s been left open.”
Muriel and Patty exchanged glances. Patty asked, “Jerry is a psychic?”
“I believe so. He’s sensitive and he says so is his sister.”
Gale again caught the looks the women exchanged. “Please. We need help. Jerry said his father was deep into satanic worship.”
Muriel’s breath caught in her throat loudly.
“Yes.” Gale nodded. “I had no idea. But I have to tell you, when Jonathan and I were in a room together, shadow demons surrounded us. I had all sorts of scratches from the contacts, and always assumed they were incidental to our sexual acts. I know now. They’re weren’t.”
“Patty.” Muriel held Patty’s hand. “We do need to help. And you opened the gateway.”
Patty appeared devastated, but agreed. “I’ll be there. When?”
“Tomorrow night? Sunday night is always a good night for prayer.”
“Okay.” Muriel gave Gale a tentative smile.
“I have to rid this demonic mess.” Gale cupped his abdomen and said, “And get rid of this tattoo. Jerry said it’s not helping close the door.”
“It isn’t.” Muriel looked stern. “You need it gone from your body, Gale.”
He bit his lip, feeling his eyes burn with tears. “Thank you.”
Patty said, “You may rid the demonic spirits, but you still have a human killer to deal with. Be careful out there.”
Gale swallowed nervously. “I will.”
~
After a surprisingly pleasant chat with Muriel and his mother, Gale felt relieved. Help was out there. And by Sunday night, hopefully some of the shadow demons would be vanquished. He knew he had options as far as removing the pentagram was concerned. There were creams and laser treatments. He and Jerry would discuss each possibility.
Gale parked his bike near Jerry’s Porsche and carried his helmet up the stairs of his townhouse. Stopping, he glanced down at a pumpkin that had been placed in front of their door.
It was nearing the end of October, but Gale didn’t think, considering the circumstances, that Jerry would purchase anything to celebrate All Hollow’s Eve.
He picked up the orange gourd and noticed it had a red spray-painted inverted pentagram on it.
Gasping, Gale threw the pumpkin off their porch and felt icy cold suddenly. His hands trembling in spasms, he poked the lock with his key and felt the door give way. “No. No…” Gale called out, “Jerry!” and made his way into the silent house cautiously.
It was dark in the living room, but there was a light on in the kitchen. When he came through the hallway he froze in terror.
Hell had made its way to earth.
Jerry was seated on one of the kitchen chairs, tied up, naked and gagged. His eyes were wide in panic. Gale rushed to free him, then jumped out of his skin when someone else emerged from behind the door, a thirty-eight caliber revolver was in their hand.
It was then Gale knew he was facing Jonathan’s murderer. “Shari,” he breathed in agony at the realization.
Shari shook while she used both hands to steady the gun. She appeared strung out and rake-thin. Her face was covered in scabs and her hair was greasy, hanging in shanks. Her clothing was dirty and her skin was yellow and almost looked as though it lacked blood.
She raised the gun to Jerry’s temple and rested the barrel there, then she turned to Gale in rage showing her tobacco and crack-cocaine stained teeth as she snarled. A very large fixed blade knife was within her reach on the counter.
Gale felt misery for Jerry, knowing this was torture for him. He swallowed nervously and tried to think. “Shari, please. Don’t do this.”
“Shut up!” she shrieked, “Just shut up, you filthy slut!” She huffed as if the effort of shouting exhausted her.
When she tensed her arms, Gale noticed track marks and an abscess appear near her wrists from under her sleeves and shivered in disgust.
“I waited for you,” she whined, “I waited for you to call. To beg my forgiveness. What the hell was I? Some piece of shit you could throw away? You never called me. Never. After all that time? After all I did for you?”
He opened his mouth to speak and then reconsidered. In her state Shari could hardly be reasoned with. Why hadn’t he thought of her as a suspect? Could she have meant so little that he never factored her in? Yes.
“I killed him,” she said, “I followed you for days. I knew what you were doing. He was the one who told me he was paying for your ass. He had the nerve to tell me that over the phone.” Her chest rose and fell rapidly, the gun was still leaning on Jerry’s temple. Jerry had closed his eyes. Gale figured he was doing his best trying not to picture his brains being blown out.
Shari said, “You were supposed to rot in jail. Why didn’t you rot in jail for the murder of that bank faggot?” she yelled loudly, “Why? Was it because you fucked your lawyer too? Did you fuck the judge? Did you suck the judge’s cock to get out of jail?”
Disgusted by her, Gale didn’t want to move, yet he knew if he got close enough to her, it would take nothing to overpower her. She was obviously in a terribly weakened state.
“Don’t you have anything to say to me?” she screeched hysterically.
The high-pitch made him want to cover his ears. He wished he was close enough to jump her. Gale shifted his weight to his other leg slowly. “I…I’m sorry. It was all such a nightmare.”
“Nightmare?” She laughed demonically. “Your nightmare hasn’t even begun.” Reaching with her left hand, she picked the knife up off the counter. “I called on Satan. You know what he said?” She showed Gale the knife as if he hadn’t already seen it. “He said to kill. To kill and kill and kill. Anything to make you go back to him.”
“Don’t believe Satan, Shari. He’s a liar.” He took a step closer.
When he did, she fixed her hand on the gun, bracing it hard on Jerry’s temple. “No. You’re the liar.”
Holding back, Gale focused on her eyes. “I never lied to you.”
“Bull shit! You led me on. You let me suck your dick!”
Gale cringed and looked at Jerry. Jerry was either imagining himself someplace else or conjuring up spirit guides. Either way, Jerry had checked out. His eyes were sealed tight and he was still as stone.
“So, I ask myself. Who’s he fucking now? I don’t even have to figure it out. It was in the paper. First you were ho’ing with your lawyer. But he got smart and kicked you out. Lucky for him or I’d have killed him. Then I read you’re with this fag.” She waved the knife near Jerry carelessly. “It was all just a plot to drive me crazy. Do you know how humiliating it was to have my friends mocking me about you every fucking day of my life? You living with the son of a guy you were accused of murdering?” She gave a choking laugh. “Satan was not happy.”
His vision kept moving from her weapons to his lover.
Shari noticed Gale glance at Jerry and stomped her feet. “Look at me! I’m the one you need to be paying attention to. Goddamn it. I’ll blow his brains out. I’ll kill him while you watch me. I killed his father. And I’ll kill this faggot too. You think I care?”
Very sure she would indeed kill him, Gale shivered at the threat. He ground his jaw and felt a tremendous impulse to lunge at her, but he was just too far away. “Shari, please. I’m listening to you. What do you want me to do?”
“It’s too late now. It’s ruined. You’ve ruined me.” She pointed the knife at herself, as if forgetting its sharp edge. “Now, it’s over. I have to put an end to this…this ‘nightmare’. Satan told me to take you. He wants you and this prick as well.”
“Oh, God. Shari, please.” Gale stepped closer. “I’m telling you, Satan is a liar. He’s using you like he used me, used Jonathan.”
“Stay back.” She warned, turning the gun barrel toward Gale in reflex.
Exhaling deeply, Gale was relieved it was away from Jerry. He would much rather take a chance with his own life.
“I’m going to blow your fucking dick off.” She sneered. “Wasn’t that why you never went to jail? Or was it that pretty face of yours?” She pointed the muzzle at his head.
Gale nodded. “You’re right. I deserve to die. What I did to you was unforgivable. I have no excuses. I should have thought about you and how you felt. I’m sorry. Eternally sorry.” He took another step closer to her.
“I want you to rot in hell with the master,” she said and raised the gun unsteadily to Gale’s face. “Time to give yourself to Satan.”
Getting nearer to the distance he needed to attack Shari, Gale moved slowly and unzipped his leather jacket trying to distract her. He spread it wide over his chest and pointed to his heart. “I don’t care. Go ahead.”
Behind Shari, Jerry panicked and strained at the ropes and gag.
Shari gripped the knife in her palm, trying to brace the gun in both hands. She was convulsing in spasms as the tears fell from her eyes. “I trusted you. I thought we had a future together. But you humiliated me. I was the laughing stock of my friends. You never remembered I existed.”
Though he despised her at that moment, he knew it was true. He had become wrapped up in a bizarre life and remembered nothing that came before Jonathan.
The gun quivered, her white index finger was on the trigger. “You deserve to die,” she said, “For what you put me through. You deserve to die. If I kill you, Satan will give me anything I want. You’re his prize.”
“Yes. He’s always wanted me. Ever since I was a young boy.” Gale untucked his shirt and exposed his tattoo. “I’ve always been the son of Barabbas. Son of Beelzebub, child of hell.”
Her attention was distracted by his pentagram tattoo.
“It makes sense for you to shoot me here.” He reached out his hand slowly and touched the gun barrel, leading it between his two fingers to rest on his naval. “Satan wants it there.”
Gale could see tears rolling down Jerry’s face as he watched.
The nearer she came, the more Gale could see how sick Shari had become. The warm healthy glow of his light blue aura next to her sickly black one was distracting, yet telling.
Her hand tensed on the gun, the knife was gripped in her left palm.
Gently, Gale clasped his hand around hers. And as if hypnotized, she connected with his eyes at his touch, the tears drying on her face. Gripping the gun tightly, Gale twisted it to take it out of her hand, thinking it was over now.
Like a cobra, she reacted and jerked back. The hand with the knife swiped out at him. Even though Gale felt the blade cut him, he still did not release his grip on the gun.
She struggled, grunting from the strain of the exertion. Shari stabbed at Gale to release the revolver as he winced in pain.
At the noise of the gun discharging, Gale jolted, expecting to feel the blast.
Helpless and bound, Jerry was going wild trying to get free behind them.
Even as Gale thought of where he may have been shot, Shari started to slide out of his grip to the floor, her abdomen was oozing with blood. What little she had spilled out of her, draining her of life quickly until she lay with unseeing eyes on the kitchen floor.
Mesmerized by Shari’s death rattle, Gale overheard grunting noises behind her and hurried over to cut Jerry free. Instantly, Jerry yanked the gag out of his mouth and started wrapping kitchen towels around Gale’s arms, stopping the blood from running out of his wounds. When the bleeding was controlled, Jerry embraced him in relief.
~
Minutes after their phone call to 911, the paramedics arrived along with the police department.
Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, Jerry told his story to the sergeant at the scene while they waited for Detective Martin who was called out from his home.
Seated on the leather couch, Gale watched one of the young firemen wrapping his arms up with temporary gauze bandages until he was transported to the hospital. While Gale was tended he tried to listen to Jerry’s explanation of how he was napping in bed when he heard a window breaking.
“I was groggy and disoriented when I woke up to find Shari standing over me with a gun.”
Gale could imagine the scene too clearly.
At a noise at the front door, where a uniformed officer was keeping the unwanted media out, the detective was shown in.
Gale thought the detective appeared more exhausted than usual. Nobody wanted to be called out to a crime scene from your warm cozy home.
Detective Martin removed his rain hat and took a look around. Gale noticed his reaction when he spotted the corpse lying on the linoleum floor in the kitchen.
The sergeant on the scene met the detective at the door. “We haven’t touched anything, waiting for your arrival.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, “it looks as though an army has been through this place as it is. Is that the weapon?” He gestured to a handgun lying on the floor next to the body.
“Yes. It’s a thirty-eight, the same caliber that killed Strickland.”
Gale hoped this was the end of hell. If Detective Martin wasn’t convinced Shari murdered Jonathan now, he didn’t know what would convince the man.
“Who is she?” Detective Martin leaned over the body.
“Shari Smith. It seems Gale Hansen ended their friendship just as his affair with Strickland was getting under way.”
Gale frowned as the detective looked back into the living room at him while the fireman/medic put the finishing touches on his bandages.
Detective Martin approached and looked down at Gale’s arms. “What did she do to you?”
Before Gale could speak, the medic who had been helping him said, “Five deep lacerations all requiring stitches. They were defensive wounds.”
Hearing the technical speak, Gale peeked up at the detective meekly. “Hiya, Detective. You still think I killed Jonathan?”
Ignoring the sarcastic comment, the detective asked, “You fight her over the gun?”
“I did. She was stronger than she looked. Got me good.” Gale raised his arms to peer at the damage through the seeping bandages.
“Why aren’t you en route to the hospital?” Detective Martin asked.
“I’m all right.” Gale looked away. “I just wanted to make sure you got here and that you know Shari murdered Jonathan.”
“You’re not all right. You need stitches.” Detective Martin asked the uniformed sergeant on the scene, “Did you take photos of Hansen’s injuries?”
“Yeah. Got them before they were covered.” The sergeant nodded. “He’s good to go. I’ll send someone up with him to take a statement after he’s treated.”
“Right,” Detective Martin agreed.
Hearing the conversation, Jerry came over to Gale. “Will you go to the hospital already?”
“You done?” Gale asked Jerry.
The detective raised his eyebrow. “No, he isn’t.”
“Then I’ll wait.” Gale slouched on the sofa defiantly.
Exchanging glances, Jerry and Detective Martin appeared exasperated.
The detective stood in front of Gale and asked, “Why didn’t you mention this woman to me?”
“I don’t know. I thought when she got pissed off at me about Jonathan that she was out of the picture. How was I to know she’d go pyscho?”
Gale noticed a man arrive wearing a dark uniform.
The detective greeted him, “Hello, Mr. Coroner.”
“Mr. Detective,” the coroner answered in return.
“Only a little while longer.” Detective Martin checked back with the sergeant. “We need the deceased for anything?”
“No. I have her identification from the computer. She had nothing on her. According to the records she was only arrested once for minor possession of marijuana and that was years ago. Nothing else.”
“You got photos?” Detective Martin asked.
“Got them.” The sergeant showed him the digital camera.
The detective knelt by Shari and inspected the bullet wound in her abdomen, then the exit wound in her back as well.
Gale said, “Don’t miss the heroin tracks and abscesses. You need to see that to get the full picture of what she had become.”
“Yeah. I see it.” After examining all he needed, the detective said to the coroner, “She’s all yours, Mr. Coroner.”
“Thank you, Mr. Detective.” He nodded to his associate and a gurney was wheeled in.
One of the firemen elevated Gale’s arm. The blood was seeping through the gauze. “You need to go to the hospital now.”
Gale asked Jerry, “Ya done yet?”
Hearing the conversation and seeing Gale would not go to the hospital alone, Detective Martin said, “Go. I’ll meet you up at the hospital.” Detective Martin asked the fireman, “Harborview?” He received a nod.
“Finally.” Jerry grabbed his coat and shook his head at Gale.
The body was wrapped in a sheet, and a plastic zipper body bag and hoisted to the gurney by the two men from the coroner’s office. With it removed, the detective stepped over the blood-stained floor and picked up the gun in his gloved hand. “Get this to the lab.” He gave it to another plain-clothed detective who packaged it.
Noticing Jerry’s interest in the gun, Gale stood up slowly.
The detective said, “The gun that killed your father, no doubt.”
Gale was nauseated by the sight of it.
Jerry agreed. “Yeah, the minute I laid eyes on her I knew she was the one.”
“You could have mentioned her name.” The detective slanted his eye at Gale.
Gale replied, “I thought investigating was your job. Besides, I was the sole suspect of your investigation. Would you have believed me?”
Exhaling wearily, Jerry said, “Will you go to the hospital?”
“Are ya done?” Gale asked Jerry again.
“Yes. Yes.” Jerry held up his hands to hurry him out.
The minute they exited the townhouse, spotlights were lit and flashes from cameras went off as the press tried to get their story. A reporter from the local news agency had a microphone and cameraman filming, narrating the event as the ambulance driver brought out a stretcher.
“I can get in the ambulance by myself. I’m not helpless.” Gale protested, holding his arms upright. He and Jerry were surrounded by firemen to shelter them from the chaos.
“Are you coming with me?” Gale asked Jerry.
“Yes. Sit.” Jerry directed him into the back of the medic unit.
They finally managed to get on their way to the emergency room. Jerry sat next to Gale while the medic wrapped a blood pressure cuff around his upper arm carefully.
Gale smiled sweetly at Jerry. “Hi, Jerald.”
“Hello, Gale.” Jerry returned his endearing grin.
“Do you love me?”
“Yes.”
The relief in Gale was palpable. The reign of terror was over. “Kiss me.”
Jerry pecked his lips.
Gale noticed the medic try not to watch, his cheeks getting rosy. “That was barely a kiss. I want a better one.”
“Why are you being so incorrigible?” Jerry laughed.
“I’m relieved, Jerald Strickland. I’m so fucking relieved I could bust.”
“Me too.” Jerry touched his cheek lightly.
“But.”
“But?” Jerry tilted his head.
“If I’d have called her, Jerry, none of this would have happened. And your dad would still be alive.”
“It isn’t your fault.”
“Yes, it is.” Convinced he was to blame, Gale almost fell to pieces. It was as if all the adrenalin had vanished and he was left with reality.
“Did you pull the trigger?”
Gale shook his head.
“Don’t worry. It’s going to be all right now.”
And somehow Gale hoped it would be. Chapter 25
Sunday night nearing the stroke of midnight, Gale joined a casting circle on the floor of Jerry’s living room.
Tia, Muriel, Jerry’s good friend Mason, Father Raul, and Gale’s mother Patty sat united, holding hands. Candles and rosaries, bibles and holy water, sat inside the ring.

In his black clothes and white clerical collar, Father Raul bowed his head. “Let all witness this gathering of the good. May white light surround us and fill us with love and hope.”
“Lightness surround us,” Patty said.
“The love and tenderness of God enfold us,” Mason added.
Gale felt his eyes burn with tears. He was holding Muriel’s and Jerry’s hand. He squeezed them tighter.
“The shadow of Satan be gone from this place.” Father Raul’s voice was strong and forceful. “I command you in the name of Jesus Christ to leave this place. You are no longer welcome here. I rebuke all cursed creatures, I wash, cleanse, and release the angels of God upon you.”
Feeling something move behind him, Gale looked over his shoulder.
Jerry said, “It’s here.”
Muriel whispered, “It’s growling.”
Father Raul reached for the holy water and walked behind Gale. “I bless this man. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. I cast you Satan from harming this soul. You must release this child of God and let him go.”
Water sprinkled over Gale’s hair and everyone made the sign of the cross on their chest.
Tia began chanting in Latin making the goose flesh rise on Gale’s skin. He picked up his rosary from the circle and placed it over his head, keeping the cross in his palm, close to his heart.
“I command you Satan to leave!” Father Raul held his hand on top of Gale’s head. “Leave this man. You cannot have him. He is one with the Holy Spirit and is no longer in your grasp. Stop oppressing this child of God and let go.” Tia’s chanting grew louder.
Gale felt his skin burn where he’d been cut by Shari. He cringed in pain. Father Raul used the holy water to make a sign of a cross on Gale’s forehead.
“Hang in there,” Jerry whispered to him.
Patty yelled, “I let you in! I command you to leave my son alone!”
Muriel spun around to look behind her and Gale could tell she saw something. Jerry held Gale’s hand tighter.
Father Raul began throwing holy water on the wall behind Gale.
“There.” Muriel pointed to a corner of the room. “It’s right there.”
Gale could see the shadow demon from his peripheral vision. “Leave me alone!” he yelled. “I want you out of my life!”
Another growl was very audible and something fell over in another room, creating a loud bang.
Father Raul followed the noise, throwing holy water as he went. “I command you to leave this home! Evil spirits are no longer welcome here! I rebuke all creatures of the devil! I wash, I cleanse, I free this place from the demon to bring the angels of God to remove you.”
Silence filled the circle as Father Raul went to every corner of the townhouse to bless it and splash it with holy water.
Tia said one more line in Latin and stopped. Everyone listened and waited.
Father Raul returned, standing at the doorway.
Gale checked Muriel’s expression.
Jerry said, “The room’s lighter. I mean, I feel like I can breathe.”
“I’m no longer cold.” Tia rubbed her upper arms.
“Gale?” Patty asked.
Gale waited, the burning in his cuts had stopped. “I don’t know.”
Though he had never told Father Raul about his tattoo, Father Raul crouched next to Gale and hoisted up his t-shirt revealing it.
“Lay back.”
Gale quickly stretched out and moved his shirt higher, the cross still in his hand, Gale held it to his lips.
“I command you to release this man!” Father Raul sprinkled holy water on the pentagram.
Holding his breath, Gale waited for the sting. It didn’t burn.
One by one each member of the circle laid their hand on Gale’s abdomen.
Mason said, “I don’t sense the shadow anymore. Does anyone else?”
Gale felt boiling heat through their hands, but it was good, not painful.
“I think it’s gone.” Muriel closed her eyes.
Tia said, “Not for good. I think it may try one more time.”
“Then we’ll meet again.” Jerry massaged Gale’s chest over his heart.
A sobbing sound caught Gale’s attention. He raised his head off the floor and realized his mother weeping, covering her face. “Mom.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Mom. Don’t cry.”
The circle members allowed Gale to go to his mother. He held her in his arms.
“I did this. I brought this to you.”
Muriel said, “Patty, it’s gone. I don’t feel it.”
“Yes, but for how long?” Patty wiped at her eyes.
“We’ll keep doing this once a week until it leaves Gale alone.” Father Raul put the cap back on the holy water.
“We better close the circle,” Tia warned.
They returned to their original places. Gale felt lightheaded and exhausted.
Tia again spoke Latin, then added in English, “Spirit, air, water, earth and fire, I close this circle and everything in it is sealed against evil.”
Gale shivered involuntarily. Sweat broke out on his forehead.
“The circle is closed,” Mason said loudly.
A murmur encircled Gale of, “This circle is closed.”
Muriel added, “Thank you Lord for your protection. Keep your guiding spirit with us.”
“Amen.” Father Raul broke the trance and everyone looked up.
Gale asked, “Anyone feel anything?”
Silence followed. One by one each answered, “No.”
“Thank you.” Gale felt emotional and tears spilled.
“Time for you to rest.” Muriel stood and helped Gale to his feet, Jerry right beside him.
“Muriel, thank you.” Gale hugged her, feeling like wailing in gratitude.
“Baby, anytime you need me. I will be here. You are my phoenix, my lovely man. You will always manage to rise up from the ashes to win.”
Gale replied, “If I’m a phoenix, where are my wings? Have I been clipped?”
“My love,” she cupped his jaw, “Your wings are airbrushed on your Harley Davidson.”
Gale loved the analogy. “That makes me a black leather phoenix.”
“Then you have no way to go, but up.” She kissed him.
“Thank you for sticking by me.”
“I always will.”
Gale embraced each person, thanking them.
“Keep this with you.” Father Raul gave Gale the rest of the holy water.
All Gale could do was nod, his throat was tight from emotion.
He kissed his mother and rocked her. “I forgive you.”
“I love you, Gale. Thank you for saying that.”
Backing up from her, seeing the group whispering about the experience as they left, Gale waited until he and Jerry were alone. Once they were, Jerry blew out the candles and handed Gale his rosary. “Go to bed. I’ll clean up and meet you there.”
“Thank you.”
Jerry threw him a kiss.
Holding the walls as he went, Gale felt a huge load had been lifted in so many ways. He washed up for bed, stripping and climbing under the sheets, waiting for Jerry.
Jerry returned, heading to the bathroom first before joining Gale. Once he did, he peeled back the blankets to Gale’s hips and opened a bottle he had on the nightstand. “This should help fade it until we can get it lasered off.”
Gale propped his head up on the pillow as Jerry used a cream on his tattoo. “That feels good.”
“In more ways than one?” Jerry smiled.
“What would I do without you?” Gale caressed his cheek.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
As Jerry tenderly massaged the cream into Gale’s skin, Gale felt content for the first time in a very long time.
“Your aura,” Jerry said, “It’s whole.”
“Your hole,” Gale teased, “Can I fill it?”
Once Jerry understood the sexual innuendo he laughed. “My God, Gale. Can anything stop your libido?”
“No.” Gale grinned.
“Let me wash my hands,” Jerry replied, smiling.
Gale rummaged through the nightstand for what they needed. A flash of Jonathan’s face tried to interfere. Gale shut it out.
The moment Jerry entered the room, naked and fabulous, Gale thought of nothing else but him. “Wow. My phoenix certainly is rising.”
“What?” Jerry chuckled as he climbed onto the bed. “Is that what you call your dick?”
“It is from now on.” Gale embraced him, kissing him. As Jerry purred in affection, Gale knew he may have loved Jerry in another life, but in this one, he would love him forever.
The End.
About the Author

Award-winning author G.A. Hauser was born in Fair Lawn, New Jersey, USA and attended university in New York City. She moved to Seattle, Washington where she worked as a patrol officer with the Seattle Police Department. In early 2000 G.A. moved to Hertfordshire, England where she began her writing in earnest and published her first book, In the Shadow of Alexander. Now a full-time writer, G.A. has written over fifty novels, including several best-sellers of gay fiction and is an Honorary Board Member of Gay American Heroes for her support of the foundation. For more information on other books by G.A., visit the author at her official website. www.authorgahauser.com

Awards:

All Romance eBook- Best Author 2009, 2008 and 2007 All Romance eBook- Best novel 2007 Secrets and Misdemeanors All Romance eBook- Best novel 2008 Mile High

BREAKING CHAINS
Copyright © JC Szot
This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events or locales is coincidental. All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Chapter 1
Dale sat in his car, watching the taillights of Kurt’s MR-2 recede into the rippled darkness. The rain thundered down on the roof, his eyes narrowing at the peach-colored sign, decorated with mossy, green leaves and white lights.

When he had walked into Nectars he had felt the multiple pairs of roving eyes, his mind tilting over the sight of male bodies gyrating through a dusky haze out on the dance floor, realizing where he had landed. Kurt had sought him out, sitting down next to him at the bar. He smelled crisp and fresh, like linen right off the line.

After introducing himself, Dale had envied his skilled ease at having a conversation with a complete stranger. Kurt was thirty-five, eight years his senior, and lived in Hunterdon, New Jersey. He had his own interior design business. He politely dominated the conversation, explaining that he had just purchased a Victorian home and was working on the renovations. It was a well-mannered, conversational seduction. Kurt had acknowledged that Dale’s insides were quivering, commenting on his darting eyes, taking in his surroundings. He had lightly touched his shoulder, his fingers lingering on the soft cotton of his shirt, in attempts to reassure him that he wouldn’t be eaten alive. He picked up the tab for all of Dale’s drinks. He felt the slight nudge of Kurt trying to pull him out of himself, his body slowly uncurling. Kurt was very driven, openly discussing his appetite for exquisite things. Dale had treaded cautiously, skirting over his dysfunctional childhood, quickly moving on to his occupation as a window dresser for Macy’s department store.

Toward the end of the evening Kurt had asked if there was a woman. Dale chuckled, the liquor burning back up his throat. Dale shook his head, wondering if Kurt was somehow attempting to recruit him over to his team. A rush of heated awareness shot through his veins, but when Kurt invited him over for dinner the following night, Dale barely flinched, tired of playing the role of Neil Diamond’s “Solitary Man.” He grabbed a cocktail napkin to jot down the directions and his cell phone number.

He put the Saab in drive and drove out of the parking lot, the wipers pushing torrents of water off the glass. What would Kurt think of his past? Some women could be intriguing, but there was always a line he couldn’t cross, a line that had been inked in by his youth. A childhood of shame, along with a few embarrassing encounters during his high school years, had only led Dale into an adult life of isolation. There had only been two women, the first a deranged monster, his aunt in whose care he had been left, and Linda Perelli.

Everyone had their time to shine. Sometimes it came early: prom queens, valedictorians, and football stars. For some it came late. For Linda Perelli everything came early. Every boy wanted her, fantasizing about the supple curves they saw every day but couldn’t touch, her long hair streaked with sunshine. The halls were flooded with mouthwatering, mumbling boys whose erections couldn’t be contained. They would have to go into the boys’ room and jerk off just so they could think and see straight to get through the rest of the day.

That one night, at her girlfriend’s house party, had been disastrous. For the young, blooming ego of any guy to be hammered and scrutinized by his fellow peers was a curse, a curse fueled by endless rumors and back-biting gossip, the result being the demise of Dale’s social graces. The tainted window of his personality had hung on an empty house ever since.

Dale swung into his numbered spot. He bolted across the parking lot, jogging up the exterior stairs to his apartment, the rain now a slow drizzle. Riverview Gardens in the small town of Hampton could never compete with Kurt’s level of living. Tomorrow night he would return to the sprawling hills of Hunterdon County, the élite homes and manicured lawns he had relished during his scenic drive before stopping into Nectars for a beer.

Humid air was moving in, coating his skin, mixing with his frustrated heat. He tossed his keys on the hall table and opened the sliding glass door. The sheer curtain billowed out into the room. Dale collapsed on the couch, the cushions molding into his back. He closed his eyes, resurrecting the image of Kurt in his mind, his dick pushing against the zipper of his jeans. Dale laughed out loud. Should one attempt to shrug off embarrassment if they were alone? His hand lowered, pressing on his erection, the rage resurfacing, but mixing with something else. Was it desire? Need? Or just an adolescent horniness that had never been allowed to come out?

Dale often felt the rage of his desire, not knowing how to channel it. It would come rushing at him, consuming him like the flames of a forest fire engulfing a thousand trees. The flames would swathe him like heated ribbons, wrapping around him tighter and tighter. His skin would ignite, his cock would pulsate, his balls about to blow. He thought he would die of a terminal disease. Memories of his inadequacies would swell like a high tide sea, paralyzing him. When the flames rose again, and they always did, he would retreat to a quiet room, his pants in a puddle around his ankles, manipulating his body, his teeth clenched, aching for release. A release he had never been able to share with anyone.

Kurt’s smooth and angled face bled through his thoughts. Sandy waves of hair framed his brows, the strands shiny with gel. His eyes were an earthy green, the irises swirled with an acorn brown. His body was tall and lean, not bulging or intimidating. His touch still lingered, his fingers warm and slender. Dale unzipped his pants, the balmy air settling over his groin. On nights like this, while he was alone, he would think of his cock as a monster, rearing its ugly head, just needing to be emptied like a trash receptacle, but tonight its head was engorged, filled with something else, something he wasn’t sure he had the mental capacity to comprehend.
~
The next day, Dale’s brain swelled, his hair on end with the thought of seeing Kurt again. All the possible scenarios barreled through his mind like a commuter train. Fear and anticipation swirled together, mixing into a cocktail, its flavor indecisive. When it came to his job, it didn’t matter if he was preoccupied or not. Anybody could dress a mannequin. He’d done it a hundred times, sick, hung over and depressed. With the summer line out, he had cleverly laid out his beach scene in the huge window in front of the store. Grains of sand pierced through the knees of his slacks as he carefully positioned the last participant in a lounge chair and then punched out for the rest of the weekend.
Chapter 2

Dale rubbed his palms down the front of his jeans as his eyes gazed up at the turret of Kurt’s house. Winter darkness had turned to light, the spring evening sun still warm, its rays pelting through the windshield, heating his lap. The house was immense, a soft yellow with burgundy-colored shutters. He forced a breath deep down into his lungs, then got out of the car.

The yard was small, a square of emerald carpet surrounded by a wrought iron fence. As he stepped onto the front porch the heavy wooden door opened, Kurt’s dazzling smile greeting him.

“Hey, you made it.” Kurt’s hand reached for his, his fingers wrapping around his snugly.
“Yeah, great directions. Thanks.” Dale released his hand, thrusting his into his pocket, burying Kurt’s warmth into the confines of his jeans.
“Please allow me to give you the grand tour.” His thin lips eased into a lazy grin, his cheeks lightly flushed.
Dale felt as if he’d stepped into a magazine. Kurt’s musical voice reverberated off the high ceilings as he took him through each of the rooms. Two out of the six were closed off, the doorways draped with blue tarps. Each room had a color scheme. Kurt’s office was a robin’s-egg blue. A heavy mahogany desk sat catty-corner with a computer, a bulletin board and printer. The dining room was a deep wine color, the windows covered with heavy, velvet drapes. A large oak table dominated the room, sitting on a drugget. Kurt explained that druggets were used to protect the floor during meal times. The table was set with white, gold-rimmed glassware and crystal stemware. Dale’s shoes slid across the glossy parquet floors. The living room was a blood red, the furniture more modern, a chair, loveseat and sofa in black leather strategically placed around the room, allowing all who sat to have an ample view of the large flat-screen TV. An antique chaise caught his eye back in the corner, its cushion a rich forest green, the surmounts glaring with a glossy finish.
“That’s a beauty, isn’t it?” Kurt gestured to the piece. “I got that at an auction in Gladstone.”
“Everything is amazing.” Dale’s head tipped back, taking in the intricate molding and wainscoting. Swaging drapes, bold and detailed patterns made the house what it was, setting off the rich, glossy woods and designs of the era. Kurt hadn’t shown Dale his bedroom. Maybe he thought he’d scare him off if he did.
“It is gorgeous, isn’t it,” Kurt smiled, sighing. “I’m sorry. I’m a bit biased.”
“Hey, I would be too.” Dale returned his smile, his stomach braiding into heated knots.
“Well, let’s eat.” He rested his hand on Dale’s arm, his gaze meeting his. His brows lifted, his lips bending again, making Dale’s body tremble. “I hope you like pasta. I made Penne à la Carbonara.”
“Sounds good to me.” Dale shrugged a shoulder. Kurt’s hand took his, his long fingers lacing through his. He led Dale back to the kitchen, Dale lingering behind him, visually soaking him up. His long legs were encased in black denim. A light-yellow button-down, the cuffs folded up to the elbows, was tucked into his skinny jeans. His bare feet brushed over the floor as they returned to the dining room.
“Take a seat.” He pulled out a sturdy, high-back chair, the cushion a soft velvet. “What can I get for you to drink?” Kurt slowly went over the selections, his tone soft and patient. Dale opted for a beer, settling in behind the table, his eyes once again wandering up to the decorative tin ceiling. Dale unfolded the damask napkin, laying it on his lap just in time to see Kurt sashaying back to the kitchen.
He reappeared carrying a tray with a large bowl of steaming pasta and two frosted glasses of beer. He served Dale, then sat down at the other corner of the table, adjacent to him. Kurt seemed to be waiting for Dale to taste his dish first. Dale twirled the pasta around his fork, lifting it to his mouth. The rich Parmesan cheese coated his tongue with a salty, buttery taste.
“This is fantastic.” He wiped his mouth, his stomach relaxing, accepting the intake of food. Dale hadn’t eaten much earlier. His thoughts had gravitated toward Kurt all day, causing a mild twinge that had kept him off balance.
“I’m glad you approve,” he said softly. “I’m also glad that you’re here.” He reached for him, taking his hand again. His skin burned, a bashful heat spewing from his pores. Dale released his hand, anxiously rubbing his jaw as if to erase the color. What did Kurt expect? Was this an attempt at friendship, or something more? “Don’t be embarrassed. I just thought for sure you would bail,” he laughed.
“I would have called. I’m not the type of person that just blows people off.”
“Good…that’s good.” Kurt stared at him for a minute before a grin spread across his lips, pushing his cheekbones into his eyes.
After realizing his choice of words, Dale choked on his beer, carefully setting the glass down.
“I really don’t know what I’m doing, you know.” Dale forced himself to meet his eyes, the lush green pulling him in. He felt every corded muscle unwind at his confession.
“It’s all right.” Kurt’s hand stroked over his. “None of us really do in the beginning.”
Dale released a breath, trying to know the thrill of Kurt’s touch. It moved through his blood like a speedball, a drug he’d never injected.
“What is it?” Kurt’s touch was melting the skin off his bones. His tone dripped with empathy, his demeanor singing with sensitivity. Something that Dale never experienced, and felt drawn too. It seemed to welcome him, urging him to release off of his demons.
“I just don’t know what or where I’m at…you know?”
“That’s a hard spot to be in.” Kurt’s face was still, his lips parted. “Let’s just have dinner, and do what feels right, okay? No pressure.” His eyes glimmered in the muted light, the sun descending through the window, bathing the table with a golden hue.
Dale tipped his glass, unable to pull his gaze from Kurt’s face. His skin was the color of heavily creamed coffee, his face free of any whiskered shadows. The collar of his shirt was open, a few scant hairs pushing through his skin.
“I like that,” Dale whispered, his apprehension receding.
“Good. I was hoping that you would.”
The conversation gradually unraveled and became easy. Kurt asked Dale about his job, and where he resided, offering his interior design expertise if he ever needed it. They talked about music, debating whether 70’s rock was better than the 80’s, their age difference reflecting their interests. Kurt tactfully revisited some of the ice-breaker topics, wanting to confirm what Dale’s favorite dishes and drinks were. After they finished eating, Kurt began to clear the dishes. Dale offered to help but he waved him away, only inviting him into the kitchen, eager to show him the boxed, Italian pastries he wanted to serve with coffee.
Dale sat at the island, listening to the percolator sloshing its browned liquid through the glass knob, a nutty aroma filling the air. The kitchen was more modern than the rest of the house. Various colored baskets hung from cream-colored walls. A taupe-colored granite counter lined one wall, a porcelain sink sitting catty-corner where the corners met, the backsplash tiles a mustard yellow. Large, copper-bottomed pots hung from a rack over the center island. Kurt loaded the dishwasher and started reloading the tray, wanting to have dessert in the living room.
Dale excused himself to use the bathroom. Once he shut the door he turned on the faucet, leaning on the pedestal sink, the porcelain cooling his palm. He slapped some cool water on his cheeks, his skin flaming. Deep down he knew what Kurt’s intentions were. He had to face them. Could he do this? He did like him. Everything about him was soothing. His voice was warm, rushing over him like warm bathwater. His touch was light, unpretentious. He was unraveling him like an aged spool of thread. Women never did work for him. No matter how hard he tried. Any thoughts he had about women were always forced, so labor-intensive, overcrowding his mind. The constant moral battle of what was right or wrong was exhausting. His aunt had obviously never had that problem. He was tired of fighting. He never felt secure enough to act on his thoughts. His abusive childhood hung over him like a cloud of polluted stench. His ineptness with the girls in school only added to the struggle, his sexuality wrapped in chains.
Dale swept the dark strands of his hair out of his eyes, only to have it fall over his brow again, concealing his one dark, cocoa-brown eye. Dale cupped the cool water in his hand, gulping it from his palm. “Just let it be. Try to relax and let it be,” he whispered to his weary reflection. Kurt wasn’t the type of guy who would hurt him; this much he knew. ~
Kurt sipped his coffee, listening to the running water in the bathroom. It was taking every ounce of self-control to not touch him. Dale was exceptionally gorgeous. Sleek, black strands of hair gleamed with bluish highlights, framing a set of delicious brown eyes that he wanted to eat his way through, falling inside of him. His body was youthful and new. His tongue salivated at the thought of licking his browned skin. It stretched over his defined muscles like rich toffee, his ass nicely tucked into a pair of faded jeans, the material sure to be soft under his hands. The forest-green shirt he had on made everything about him radiant: his skin, hair and eyes. He couldn’t scare him. He had to be handled delicately. There were secrets. Secrets that weren’t pretty, and needed to be purged, so he could open up to him and be healed. Kurt liked playing the role of a healer. Dale also needed to be nourished, and Kurt had a special remedy for that that was all his own.
~
Dale walked down the hall, the yellow glare of candlelight gleaming off the hardwood floor. Kurt was sitting on the sofa, his arm draped across the back, his long legs crossed. Dale envied him, being so at ease. The tray of coffee and pastries sat on the dark, glossy table, the surface inlaid with scrolling foliage. Dale forced his eyes on Kurt as he sat down, the leather cushions settling under his weight. Buttery light pounded against the rich, red tapestry, matching the rhythm of his pulse.
~
“Don’t let your coffee get cold.” Kurt handed him a large, maroon mug, their fingers brushing together. “How about an éclair?” Kurt lifted the pastry by its doily, setting it down on a small plate. He rested the plate on Dale’s lap. The sloped tone of his thigh felt firm and solid under his hand. Dale’s dark lashes lowered, fanning over his beautiful eyes, his hand taking hold of the dessert plate. Dale took a bite of the éclair, his smoky pink tongue swiping at a dollop of cream on his lip. Kurt drank in the copper-colored skin of his neck and chest, his eyes straining down the open collar of his shirt. He spoke to him softy, yearning for his trust.
“You’ve never felt safe, have you?”
~
Dale’s throat closed, the coffee pooling in his mouth. He forced the hot liquid down, shifting his weight to face Kurt. Kurt’s lids were heavy, mirroring the weighted topic of his inquiry.
“I guess I’m as easy as reading an excerpt from a self-help book, huh?” His laughter cracked. He lowered his head, staring into his lap, shaking his head.
“Please don’t do that.” Kurt’s finger glided down his cheek, tracing his jaw, moving to his chin, turning his face to his. Dale’s body went limp, loosening like licorice.
“I’ve got some fucked-up issues. Once I tell you you’ll probably escort me to the front door.” A shameful heat poured out of him, coating his skin, his dysfunctional past resurrecting itself, stalking him.
Kurt slowly nodded. “Oh no. See, I have some issues of my own.” He took his hand, massaging each knuckle. “If I told you how I would like to take you up to my room and do certain things to you, you may just bolt for the front door. But see, I don’t want that, because I really like you. Don’t let me frighten you, but I want you,” his words a rushing wind. Kurt slid across the cushions, the leather aiding him. Dale had touched on some of his childhood trauma with Kurt while at the bar, but he was still hesitant.
“Perhaps another time. When you’re ready.” His warm breaths blew on Dale’s cheek. The leather crinkled under Kurt’s shifting weight, his mouth nearing his ear. “I know you’re dying inside. You’re too beautiful to die. I can’t stand by and watch you wither away. Let me water you. Let me fill you with life.”
His words were eloquent, drifting over him like a balmy August breeze. Dale’s mouth was being steered to his. Kurt’s eyes were filled with clarity, like the bright new foliage of spring. Dale inhaled his clean, soapy scent, wanting to suddenly coat his insides with him, something that was fresh and new. When his lips touched his, they were thin and soft. As the warmth of Kurt’s tongue gently slipped through his parted lips, his blood began to race. No one had ever wanted or craved him in this way. The thought of Kurt having such an urge for him catapulted him into another realm. A realm that was unknown. For the first time in his life, the ground felt even and safe, surrounded by the circle of Kurt’s fiery desire.
Kurt eased away slightly, not demanding any reciprocal behavior from him right away, but Dale felt the allure, wanting to prolong their first kiss, his first kiss with a male. It had seeped out of Kurt’s body, absorbing into his. When he moved forward for more, Kurt reached for him, as he had been doing from the beginning. His long fingers wrapped around the back of his neck, gently leading him closer, condoning the invitation. His other hand caressed his leg, moving between his thighs, his thumb stroking over his balls. His touch was thermal, soaking through his jeans. Dale rested his palm on Kurt’s chest, feeling the intricate workings of his body through the soft cotton. He glided his finger over his nipple.
Kurt pulled away, tipping his head back, sighing. Dale’s head was spinning but halted at his departure, alarms sounding.
“I’m sor—”
Kurt sat up, his eyes ignited, his pupils dilated, consuming the glittering green, coating it with black. “Don’t be. You thrill me,” he moaned, taking Dale’s head in his hands, staring down into him, rearranging things inside of him. “You’re so fucking hot.” He slid off the couch, settling in between his knees, pinning him again with a look of longing. “Let me please you. I want to flood you with pleasure, wash away all the pain.” He ran his hands up Dale’s cock, his pants bulging with arousal. Dale’s licked his lips, his mouth drying at his words. “I know I can make you feel good.”
“I’m…” Dale’s voice fell, his body still, his words lost. Kurt’s face smoothed, his lips parted, gleaming with a thin sheen of saliva. Kurt rested his fingers over his lips.
“Please don’t.” He slowly eased his finger inside. Dale felt him with the tip of his tongue, his nail smooth. Dale took his hand, easing his finger from his mouth. He reached for his face, cupping Kurt’s smooth cheek. Kurt turned, closing his eyes, kissing his palm, his desire to please him unfathomable. Dale’s words slipped from his mouth in a rough whisper.
“What about you? What should…” Kurt nodded his head, facing him.
“Do what you feel. What feels right, but please allow me to do the same. I have no reservations, but I fully respect yours.”
Dale sank back into the cushions, the breath leaving his lungs. His bones absorbed his refreshment. As Kurt’s hands worked his zipper, he surrendered, the teeth clicking in his ears. Cool air collided with his internal heat. When Kurt’s hand slowly removed Dale’s cock from the opening in his briefs, his balls tingled, hiking back up into his body with a prickling heat. His touch was so soft, slow and methodical.
Dale was taken aback. It was a feeling of such rightness. A truth that had been buried for years oozed out of him, then began to surge, like a new growth. His eyes skirted across the tiled ceiling, his aching curiosity pulling his gaze down to Kurt’s head as it lowered over him, slowly pulling him into a tunnel of wet heat.
“Oh God,” his lungs heaved. His damp hand gripped the leather arm rest, now sticking to his skin. Kurt’s tongue bathed him, licking the underside of his cock, his actions an act of something that was unconditional. Was it compassion, kindness? Is this where love began?
He saw her. He felt her briefly, almost smelling her, his aunt’s sagging tits and calloused hands, reeking of Ajax, yanking him toward her. He lowered his gaze, his body drinking in Kurt kneeling before him, pushing the demons out, eager to receive more of his goodness. With every stroke of his tongue, his body levitated. He felt like he belonged to someone, was part of something. Dale sat up, not meaning to break Kurt’s rhythm. He leaned back on his heels, his lips wet and glossy.
“Are you okay?” Kurt ran his fingers through his hair, his scalp encased in a tingle that spread to the rest of his body.
“I want to touch you too.” Dale shook his head, shrugging off his words. “I sound like an idiot.”
“No.” Kurt grabbed his arm, a firmness seeping through. “No one’s an idiot here. It’s you and me, no awkwardness allowed,” his words now softening. Kurt unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it behind him. Dale removed his, his fingers fumbling. He scooted to the edge of the couch, running his hands over the silky panes of Kurt’s chest, his cock between their navels. His inadequacies seem to flee like an assailant in a dark alley. Dale stroked his nipples, leaning into his lips, wanting to sample him again and push through the unfamiliar.
“Tell me what you like?” He boldly licked Kurt’s lips, running his tongue over his orderly teeth, the sweetness of their dessert bathing his palate.
“If it comes from you…” he chuckled softly. “I know I’ll like it. But I’m not full of you yet. I need more.” Kurt unzipped his own pants. Dale lowered his gaze, his stomach flipping, his eyes lunging for the sight of his naked flesh. Kurt’s penis sprang forth from a thatch of wheat-colored curls. Kurt took Dale’s hand, guiding it to his cock, his erection tall and smooth. “See what you do to me? I was like this the entire time we were sitting at the bar.” His lips tipped into a seductive grin, his laughter light and musical. “Thank God it was dark and raining when we left,” he shook his head. “I feel so good now.” Kurt chewed his lower lip, his eyes sleepy, as if sedated by the look and feel of Dale’s body.
Kurt felt like silk rain in his palm. His fingers skimmed over him, delighting in the feel of someone else’s dick in his hand besides his own. Kurt tipped his head back, the smooth skin of his throat working. How could something so forbidden feel so right, and fit so well?
“Jesus. That’s so nice. Your touch is perfect.” He leaned into him, lapping at his chest, his lips moving downward over his skin. “You’re delicious,” his words muffled, working over his flesh. “Please sit back so I can enjoy you. I can’t wait to have you.”
~
Kurt couldn’t wait to taste him again. He wanted to make Dale come, providing him with the entire sensory package, the full-meal deal. His smell was intense, an earthy, woodsy scent like damp autumn leaves. He could feel Dale’s urge growing, his willingness to explore, but he would be a patient lover. He wanted Dale to really crave him, to be able to willingly ravish him in return. He wanted him to know the urge, to share it with him. To own it.
Dale’s body was spectacular, perfectly carved with smooth, sloping lines of definition. He couldn’t wait to see him completely naked. Hopefully his patience would be well rewarded. He didn’t want to overload him tonight. He was pleasantly surprised at having made this much progress with him. He took him into his mouth again, his palate pooling with saliva as his tongue licked the pearly drops from his weeping slit. Kurt moaned, feeling his eyes rolling at the sweet, buttery taste of him. God, how could anyone taste so good? His ass would be just as flavorful, coated with the sweetness of virginity.
His tongue slid over him, moistening every inch of his glorious cock. His hands wandered up his chest, his flesh firm and soft. Aroused heat rolled out of him like boiling lava. Kurt snuck a look up at him. Through the enlarged look of his lashes, Dale’s head had fallen back onto the couch, his eyes closed, his lips parted. He witnessed the excited rise and fall of his chest. Kurt slowly tugged at the waistband of his jeans. Dale yielded, shifting his hips, wanting him to have access. Kurt eased his jeans down to his ankles, spreading him wide. When Kurt swiped his tongue over his satiny balls, Dale called out to him.
“Oh…for the love of God,” he gasped for breath. “Holy shit!”
“Do you like that?” Kurt whispered, glancing up at Dale, his tongue running over his sac, his brain spinning at the sight of Dale being consumed, swept up into a cyclone of ecstasy. A raging storm of emotions that Kurt knew all too well.
“I’m gonna…Kurt…oh no. I’m gonna come…can’t hold it. Jesus Christ.”
“Let it all go, baby. Let me purge you of this poison. I want you out of the darkness. Let me bring you into the light.” He took him again, pulling him in deep, Dale’s cock vibrating between his lips.
Dale’s thighs trembled under his forearms, his hips rising to meet him. Kurt’s body was humming, on the brink, battling an uncontrollable frenzy, wanting Dale to soar to new heights. He sucked, licked and nibbled, thirsting for more of him, wanting to saturate his insides with his woodsy scent and sweetened flavor. Dale reached down, holding Kurt’s head in his hands, his fingers weaving through his hair. Kurt felt his balls twitching, his orgasm gaining momentum.
“Jesus. Holy fuck.” Streams of wet heat shot into Kurt’s mouth, the beginning of the flow tangy, the finish ever so sweet. Kurt cupped his balls, rolling them in his palm as Dale’s hips lifted off the couch. “Ah, my God.” Warm breaths puffed from Dale’s luscious mouth, ruffling his hair. Kurt stroked his legs, his tongue slithering up his thighs. Their eyes met. Dale stared down at him, his eyes holding a depth Kurt could get lost in. His fingers reached for his face, stroking his lips. The euphoric silence began to collect between them. Kurt cautiously moved through it, knowing he had to reassure him that nothing had changed, and that from here on out, it was all going to be good. In fact, it would be spectacular.
“You’re everything I knew you would be, baby, and so much more.”
~
They stood by the door. It was one a.m., their bodies adhered together once again, despite their clothing. Kurt pressed Dale up against the wall in the foyer.
“I want you to go home,” he said breathlessly. “Pack a bag and come back. Please.” His hands roamed over the knitted bones of his spine, his mouth grazing down his neck. He so wanted to see all of Dale’s toasty brown skin exposed, wanting to lick every inch of his immaculate flesh, his naked body sprawled across his bed, his eyes heavy with lust. His mind ran recklessly, meditating on their next encounter.
When Dale’s hand slipped down over his ass, cupping his cheek, his cock began to pulsate. Dale aligned his eyes with his. Tiny shards of light from the overhead chandelier sparked in them.
“I’ll come…if you want me to,” his tone hoarsened.
“Fuck yes.” Kurt’s lips crushed into his, his tongue gorging on him, wanting to keep himself fixed with the taste of him until he returned. During their hours together a faint growth had pushed through Dale’s skin. The feeling of his light bristle rubbing against his cheek was all man, and outrageously sexy.
~
Dale’s knees were folding, his body short-circuiting again, his dick responsive and flooding with power. Despite the denim between them, he was on the verge of spurting again. Whenever Kurt kissed him, or touched him, all the air went out, his body weightless, his senses in an uproar. The gratification was instant, his own personal tonic. Kurt grabbed his arms, kneading his flesh, resting his forehead against his, his balmy breaths bathing his lips.
“The faster I let you go, the faster you’ll be back.” His heavy-lidded eyes floated back and forth between his. “Hurry back, you sexy mother fucker.”
Chapter 3

Dale was back. Kurt was both thrilled and relieved. The what-ifs had fired through his head the hours Dale was away. He spent those hours pacing around the house with his dick in his hand. They were completely naked now, standing in his room, the ceiling fan circulating the air around them, air that was thick and heavy, holding an undeniable hunger. Dale’s assertiveness was blooming, like a flower leaning into the sun, its petals opening.

Dale reached for him, running his fingers down his chest, boldly stroking his cock. Dale moved closer, his smooth skin gliding over his. Kurt’s joints dissolved, his body unhinged. Dale’s touch and the feel of his skin had addictive powers.

“Holy fuck.” Kurt laughed, his nerves braiding into knots. “Please forgive me. I’m really going to try hard to keep myself in check here. Jesus, Dale. You’re over the top, babe.” His words encouraged him, graciously luring him in. Dale placed his hands on Kurt’s face, his thumbs stroking his cheeks. Dale’s lips fused with his, his tongue soaking his mouth, his body spewing heat like a furnace.
~
Kurt’s room was swathed in forest green. A chair rail of gold and maroon pinstripes circled around them. His bed was elaborate, the posts intricately carved, the coverlet an embroidered cream. The only carpeting in the house was thickly piled under his feet. A large, rectangular mirror hung in front of the bed. Dale raised his brows, Kurt’s light laughter melting him again.

“It’s an old design trick, makes the room look larger.” Dale slid his palms over Kurt’s body, ingesting his spectacular nakedness. He wanted him, eager to return the gift that Kurt had given him last night.

“I want to…do things. Help me. What do you like? Tell me what to do?” He held Kurt’s dick in his hand, his eyes rolling back. A winded sigh slipped from Kurt’s lips. Every nerve in Dale’s body was on alert, watching Kurt revel in his touch, a viewing pleasure that once had been alien. “I’m all yours, babe. Do with me as you wish.” “I’ve never…”
“Baby.” Kurt reached for him. “This isn’t some kind of

skilled performance survey. Let your feelings be your wings. See where they take you.” Dale felt Kurt everywhere, seeping into every pore, wanting him to occupy every cell in his body. “I’ll be bold, but don’t you go scurrying under my bed like a frightened mouse,” his lips curved. “I want to be in your mouth. I want to feel you around me, then I want you to fuck me.”

Dale shuddered, Kurt’s words rattling his body like an empty cage. He felt his eyes widen.
“Oh shit,” Kurt groaned, shaking his head. “No, no. It’s not a violent thing. It’s beautiful. You’ll have to excuse my foul lingo. Make love to me,” he whispered, his fingers sliding down his neck, tracing his collarbone. “I’m going to prove to you that I trust you, because I so want you to trust me.” Dale unraveled at his words, steering him toward the bed. Once Kurt’s thighs hit the mattress he sat down, Dale falling to his feet in worship.
“Take me, baby. Own me. I’m begging for it.” Kurt’s fingers grazed the back of Dale’s neck, leading him down to his cock. The bright sun of a new day streamed through the cracks of the heavy draperies. Lemony bars of light lit up Kurt’s chest, his skin holding its heat. Dale slowly caressed him, admiring the leanness of his body.
Dale bowed his head, filling his mouth with Kurt’s smooth length, his skin smelling like ripened berries. Smelling him, tasting him, and touching him wired his senses with sound, bringing his once blurred image of reality into focus. Having a cock in his mouth was hard to describe, or comprehend, but a buried instinct seemed to kick in, rising to the surface, clicking everything into place. Kurt’s dick was hot and alive, filling his mouth.
He ran his tongue up and down Kurt’s cock, swirling it around, then gliding down the underside, mimicking his technique, now fully aware of how intense it felt. His skin stretched, silky as an imported material between his lips.
“That’s it, baby. Oh God… yes. You know…see how the feelings just lead you. Fuck,” Kurt gasped. “What an amazing tongue you have, such a wondrous tool.” Dale licked his slit, really tasting him for the first time, his milk sweet and creamy. Kurt caressed his head, praising him, his words slurred, his fingers dancing down his spine. Dale continued to lap at his dick, the feel of his velvety, tight skin turning him into a wild man. He tongued the tip, his mouth pooling. Kurt stroked his cheek. “Slow up, babe.” Dale sat back on his heels, afraid of what he might see after he had just felt himself let go. Kurt’s eyes were glazed over.
“I want you. Dale…please,” he whispered. “I want to feel you inside me.” Dale stood up, having already seen the condoms and the small bottle of lubricant on the nightstand. Kurt leaned over, placing them in his hand. Kurt’s other hand took hold of his cock, his fingers slipping down his rod of heat, dipping down to stroke his balls.
“Oh yeah, babe. I want this in me. Just lube yourself up good, then it’ll be all mine.” Dale’s body shivered, everything in his line of vision bursting with hazy color. He would not let confusion re-enter, not when he was feeling so good. Kurt crawled up on the bed, his hands gripping the headboard, his ass high in the air. “I’m all yours. I want to be your everything.”
Dale crawled in behind him, his knees shaking. He stared at Kurt’s reflection, his eyes blazing, full of lustful fury. “Start with your fingers first, babe. Do the condom later.”
Dale fumbled with the cap, his insides about to erupt, his forehead beading with sweat. He jerked his hair back, out of his eyes, slathering his fingers with the cool gel. He left the cap open, laying it on the bed beside them. A natural feeling, a hidden intuition, rescued him again, coming to his aid. Kurt’s body stretched before him like an untraveled road of endless flesh, one he was ready to explore.
He ran his hand down his back, his lips showering his shoulder with delicate kisses, his skin warm under his tongue. He caressed Kurt’s ass with his slick hand, his skin sliding beneath his fingers.
“That’s wonderful, baby. Just like that. Such a tender warm-up you’re giving me. You’re a natural.” Kurt’s body was calling out to him, his ass lifting higher. Dale knew he wanted him to touch it. He kissed his way down his back, over the toned curvature, swiping his finger down the seam of his ass, grazing over his opening. He smeared the lube up and down, returning to his puckered hole, Kurt’s hips trembling under his touch.
“Fuck yeah.” Kurt’s voice sang through the room. “Inside, baby, take it inside now. I’m dying here.” Dale was so engrossed in the conduct of his first experience he had forgotten about the mirror. He shifted his knees, watching Kurt receive his pleasure, the mirror returning a much-needed confirmation. Kurt’s head was sideways, resting on the headboard, his face hollowed, his mouth open, his breaths labored with sexual fulfillment. The idea that Dale could ever satisfy someone caused him to well up inside. The fictional fantasy that had lived inside of his mind for so many years was being birthed, right in front of him. Kurt was feeling good. And he was the one paralyzing him with pleasure. A lustful need that Kurt had wanted him to fill.
Dale reached for the lube again, coating his fingers. He kissed the satiny skin of Kurt’s ass, spreading him, seeing the puckered, pink hole. They were intimately connected now. Dale eased a finger inside, Kurt’s heat bleeding into him.
“Oh fuck. Yeah, Dale. That’s it, baby. You can slip another one in. Slide them in and out. Jesus, you’re incredible.” Kurt shifted his head, his eyes locking with Dale’s in the mirror. His lids sprang open like a tightly wound shade on a window. His hair hung over his brows, free of styling products, the strands tousled. Dale stroked his fingers in and out of his ass, his internal flesh hot and wet. Dale was ready, his pelvis splitting, his balls aching in agony. He reached for the condom, tearing it open with his teeth. He fumbled, trying to slip it over his dick with the fingers of one hand and the thumb of the other. He reached for the lube, squeezing a line of it up his cock. He shifted his weight, the bed dipping slightly, his two fingers still in Kurt’s ass. Kurt’s eyes were bulging like a ravenous animal. Dale gripped his one hip, stabilizing his stance, then gripped the other, lining up their bodies, their flesh joining, fusing as one.
As his fingers eased out, Dale pressed at his entrance, his hole weeping and open for him, welcoming him inside. Dale slid in slowly, moving deeper and deeper, taken aback at how Kurt was swallowing him. Kurt’s warmth surrounded him, pulling him in, knitting them together. Dale’s eyes filled. A river of relief and joy flowed out of him. His past, all the repulsive junk was finally leaving. He could now feel, and hopefully love, and be loved. He could connect with someone. He could give pleasure and receive it.
“You gorgeous mother fucker,” Kurt’s words heaving from his lungs. “Just look at you fucking me. God, you’re so hot. Fuck me, Dale. Fuck me deep,” Kurt panting, his face flushed. Dale was engulfed, the flames of desire wrapping around them, sealing them together in a chaos of desire. Dale couldn’t get over the heat. A tight, hot tunnel that he fit so snugly in. His cock pulsated, his balls tight. “You can move more, babe. Don’t be afraid to give it to me rough. I want to feel you spear me. Rip through me, babe. I want you to brand me.”
Dale steered Kurt’s hips, slipping almost all the way out, then pushing in, his pelvis slapping Kurt’s ass. He was over the edge, Kurt’s moans of affirmation ringing in his ears. Dale pumped Kurt deeper and faster. The feel of Kurt’s ass against his groin made him crazy, his pale skin fusing with his. Volts of current ran through his body, his head about to explode. Silver dots danced in the air like tiny balls of mercury, his own, custom-made high. Dale let his head fall back, his body convulsing as he poured himself into Kurt, leaving a piece of himself inside of him.
“There it is, babe. That’s a good, hard fuck. Ride the wave, Dale. Slide through me, fill me up, want to be full of you.” Kurt’s head thrashed back and forth. Dale could see his cock, hard as granite, bouncing against his navel. He reached around, shafting him in his hand.
“No, babe,” he grinned back at him in the mirror. “I’m saving that for you.” Kurt licked his lips, smiling. Dale’s dick worked him until he saw the reflection of Kurt’s face fall, succumbing to the raw pleasure, sending him adrift in a sea of bliss. Kurt’s body shook as he slowly slipped out, watching his ass close. Kurt flipped over, grabbing his shoulders, pulling him on top of him.
His kiss plummeted down into him, his tongue digging deep, licking his lungs, sucking all the air out. His cock was rigid. Dale stroked him, Kurt about to combust in his hand. Kurt released him, staring into him with sedated eyes.
“Where the fuck have you been?” His lips twisted into a wicked smile.
“Chained up in my apartment,” he laughed, wiping the sweat from his brow. Dale’s stomach was flipping, his body trembling, realizing he had just had anal sex for the first time, and obviously had pulled it off quite well.
“Let me break those chains, baby. Please. Let me be the one.” Kurt scooted back on the bed, getting up on his knees, his cock eager. He pulled Dale into him, their bodies sliding together, their sexual sweat mixing. They were torso to torso, their bodies connected again. “Do you want me?” Kurt’s head tilted, his finger tracing his mouth.
“I do.” Dale’s voice was dry, scratching its way out.
“You’ve been shut down for too long. Now I’m going to turn you on.”
“You’ve already done that,” Dale laughed, angling his lips to his.
Chapter 4

Kurt guided Dale over to the headboard, the mirror reflecting both of them on their knees. Kurt was behind him, their bodies aligned like books. Kurt reached in front of him, stroking Dale’s cock, which had resurrected itself. His other hand slipped between his thighs, fondling his balls.

“I’m gonna fill you up. Just like you did me. You were fantastic.” Kurt heaved a sigh, nibbling on the back of Dale’s neck. He delighted in the sight of his pale hands roaming over Dale’s darker skin. Dale’s hand reached back, wanting to touch more of him. Kurt shifted his weight on the bed, reaching for the lube. He coated his fingers. He watched Dale, watching him, his face still, his chest rising, then falling. Kurt’s hand settled on his hip, the other sliding down his ass. His fingers slipped into Dale’s crack, stroking over his hole.

“Relax, baby. Once you’re relaxed, everything just opens right up.” Dale took a breath, his back expanding into Kurt’s chest. Kurt gently pressed one finger inside. He felt Dale’s rushed intake of breath. “Scoot back, babe. Lift that hot ass for me too, please.”

Dale lowered his back, spreading his knees, his skin twitching. “A bit more,” Kurt prompted, his voice light and gentle. “You trust me, right?”

“Yes.” Dale whispered, his eyes following Kurt. Kurt slid his finger in deeper, rotating around, checking Dale’s reactions. He felt Dale pull back as he slipped another finger into his ass.

“Take a deep breath, baby, then blow it out.” Dale gulped for air, releasing a hissing wind. “That’s it. Ah, yeah.” Dale’s body turned to wax under his hands, dripping with laziness. Kurt tore the condom open, reaching for the lube again. He couldn’t break his rhythm. This boy wasn’t getting away.

Kurt nestled in behind him, holding his cock while lightly working Dale’s hole. He was still a bit tight, a newbie. He so wanted to taste him, his mouth watering at the thought of tonguing his rim, but Dale was doing so well. He did not want to spook him. As he eased his finger out, he pressed the head of his cock in, slowly stretching him.
“Oh man.” Dale’s backside shuddered, his eyes bulging.
His hair hung over his one eye like black fringe.
“Relax, babe. Once I’m in, I’ll make it so good. I
promise.” Kurt felt the tight ring of muscle start to give. He
eased in further. Dale’s heat lit his body on fire. His head
snapped up, their gaze rippling the air between them. “Wow,” Dale laughed, leaning back onto Kurt’s dick. “Isn’t it nice? I’m going deeper, babe.” Kurt sank himself
all the way in, caressing his ass as he pressed up behind him. “Wait,” Dale gasped.
“Are you all right?” Kurt’s hand petted his rear. “Stay like that. Just for a minute,” he whimpered. “You feel that ticklish twinge of pleasure? Like an internal
belly tickle?”
“Shit yeah,” Dale laughed, his ass slowly rolling against
him. “The feel of your pubic hair on my ass is making me
nuts.” Dale panted, his face creased with a pleasurable
torture.
“Mm, that’s good. Let me do my thing, baby. Let fill you
up, lover.” Kurt leaned over, kissing his back, reaching
around to coddle his dick. He leaned back, pulling out, tilting
his hips, then diving back in with a bit more intensity. He
smoothed his back with his hands, Dale’s skin glittering like
the facets of a diamond.
“Holy shit,” Dale shrieked, his breaths ragged. “You’re so
slender and smooth. Jesus fucking Christ.” His ass ground
back against him, urging him on.
“It’s so good, isn’t it, Dale? You’re perfect. You still trust
me?”
“Yes, forever.”
~
Dale was about to bust apart at the seams. Kurt’s words
washed over him, cleansing him. His body was filled, a sense
of completeness, of security. He felt safe and protected. A
mutual trust and respect was blooming. Kurt lovingly manipulated his body, showing him how to trust and let go, and feel. He created a comfortableness that Dale never thought could exist between two people. His body melted, his emotions spilling over as Kurt’s body harmoniously tunneled
into his.
“You’re quiet, babe. Talk to me. Am I hurting you?” “Hell no. Where the hell did you come from?” His words
choked with pain, coated with tears. Tears he wasn’t afraid to
show.
“I was sent to break your chains. To release you, and
treasure all of your goodness,” his words labored, his body
pumping more life into his. “I’m one lucky mother fucker. Oh
yeah. Here it comes.” Kurt grunted, gripping his hips,
pressing deeper, wanting to touch a part of him no one else
ever had. “You bring on the most decadent orgasms.” Kurt
blew him a kiss in the mirror. Dale leaned back, feeding on
more of Kurt’s cock, feeling his body throb and convulse
inside of him.
“Oh yeah, Dale. This is what it’s all about. Giving
yourself over completely to another.” Kurt’s breathing
slowed, his warm cheek resting on his back. When he eased
out, Dale sighed, not welcoming the empty space. Kurt
glanced at their reflection, the tears glittering on his cheek.
Kurt leaned over him, stroking his face.
“What is it, babe? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Kurt stroked
his body all over. Watching his hands slide over his skin was
making him hot again. Kurt gently wiped the tears from his
cheek, licking his finger.
“No. I’m free, man. I’m just, ah,” he sighed. “It’s been an
interesting few days.”
“Life isn’t about chains. Life is about freedom, friendship,
love and trust. I don’t know all of what she did to you, but it’s
over with.” He leaned back, yanking a corner of the coverlet
down, inviting Dale to crawl inside. He covered them,
spooning against Dale’s body, their flesh coming together
again.
“You mended my broken fibers,” Dale whispered,
reaching back to touch him, wanting to ensure that this wasn’t
a dream and that Kurt was still there.
“Hurting people pass the pain on to others. What can I
say? I will tell you this, though. Anything from here on out
will be spectacular.” Kurt’s fingers threaded through his hair,
his touch healing.
“I believe you.” Dale closed his eyes, surrendering to a
deep sleep brought on by the afterglow.
The End
About the Author

JC Szot lives in Mount Bethel, Pennsylvania with her husband, Mike. She works in education, providing academic support services to children with learning disabilities. “Breaking Chains” is her first Gay/Erotica short story. She has self-published two romance novels. Check her out on Authorhouse.com and Infinitypublishing.com. You can contact her via email at jscdownbytheriver@yahoo.com

The G. A. Hauser Collection

Unnecessary Roughness
Got Men?
Heart of Steele
All Man
Hot Rod
London, Bloody, London
Julian
Black Leather Phoenix
In The Dark and What Should Never Be, Erotic Short Stories
Mark and Sharon (formally titled A Question of Sex) A Man’s Best Friend
It Takes a Man
The Physician and the Actor
For Love and Money
The Kiss
Naked Dragon
Secrets and Misdemeanors
Capital Games
Giving Up the Ghost
To Have and To Hostage
Love you, Loveday
The Boy Next Door
When Adam Met Jack
Exposure
The Vampire and the Man-eater Murphy's Hero
Mark Antonious deMontford
Prince of Servitude
Calling Dr Love
The Rape of St. Peter
The Wedding Planner
Going Deep
Double Trouble
Pirates
Miller's Tale
Vampire Nights

Teacher's Pet
In the Shadow of Alexander
The Rise and Fall of the Sacred Band of Thebes

The Action Series

Acting Naughty
Playing Dirty
Getting it in the End Behaving Badly Dripping Hot
Packing Heat
Being Screwed

Men in Motion Series

Mile High
Cruising
Driving Hard
Leather Boys

Heroes Series

Man to Man Two In Two Out Top Men

G.A. Hauser Writing as Amanda Winters

Sister Moonshine
Nothing Like Romance
Silent Reign
Butterfly Suicide
Mutley’s Crew