Original © 2006

Revised © 2007

BY:  Gerry Young

[My heartfelt THANKS to JERRY in Oxnard for his editorial suggestions, his guidance, and his encouragement to write this, the continuation of the saga of Gerald Arthur Young. 

I love ya, Jer.]

[To DREW in Yorkshire, England, my LOVE for his continued inspiration, encouragement, ceaseless instructions over my hardheadedness, and his determination to help me make this the best that I think it can be, even though I may not have followed all his suggestions to the letter.]

CHAPTER EIGHT

Nearly all of his clothing was packed, except for the dry cleaning he would pick up in the morning, Monday.  Also, while attending to last minute details, he would then settle up with the landlord, and would leave his new Ford pickup with a friend for a few weeks until he was sure the job in Paradise would pan out into the "gold" he anticipated.  The utilities and phone company had been notified for Tuesday's cut-off date.

Everything seemed to have been handled prudentially, and now, perhaps, he could use a few good hours of sleep before having to get ready for dinner with Tony at the ranch.  And then, of course, was that mysterious talking over of "some things," and … dare he even consider the possibilities of any sensual desserts?  Oh, my, oh, my, oh, my!

Have I forgotten anything?

The pent-up concerns about last minute details proved to put further strain on his back and leg muscles.  They were always stiff after standing stationary at the tables for forty-five minutes of each hour during an eight-hour shift.

Thinking of his aching muscles, he felt a stirring in his loins and decided to take matters into his own hands as he stripped out of his casino shirt and trousers.  I'll take those to the dry cleaners tomorrow morning and get the one-hour special, he thought, as he gently palmed the underside of his erect member when, at last freed, it slapped against his belly.

Lying on the cool sheets and mentally relaxing, seemed to send all stiffness in his body to the one six-and-a-quarter-inch-muscle standing as vertical as possible, considering the slight upward curve throughout its entirety.

As he lay there, he fantasized about the evening’s follies.  Oh, Nino … please let my dreams become real.  Please.  I want you so badly.  I need you, Nino … NINO? … Why the hell am I doing that -- calling him Nino?  SHIT!  He returned to his heart-felt reverie.  …You're everything I've ever wanted … my Luv … my everything …  "Tooooonyyyyy!" he wailed aloud, knowing no one could hear his plaintive cry.

Laying it against his belly once again, he softly rubbed his palm up and down the pulsing length of it, the tips of his fingers further exciting his rapidly shrinking, clean-shaven ball-sack.  Occasionally, the long middle finger would even stroke and apply some slight pressure to the perineum, sending greater sensual sensations throughout his body.

As visions of Tony and himself mutually re-enacting these erotic actions played in his fantasies, Gerry was becoming more and more turned-on;  little humming noises came from his very depths, higher and higher, louder and louder.  Crystal clear drops of pre-cum came more quickly, coating his palm, his fingers, his belly and his penis, itself, into a single self-stimulating sex machine.

His moans of pleasure grew louder and louder and soon his balls were spewing forth jet upon jet of hot, white seminal fluids, drenching his chest, and even hitting his chin.  Milking the last drops of his sweet joy juice from his shriveling man-toy, he began rubbing them into his abdomen, his pectorals, his neck, and then down to his nipples. Lingering there, the rubbing ended, as he began making light, almost tickling circles with the tips of his thumbs around his nickel-sized cinnamon-colored areolas, avoiding the still sensitive, still firm, pencil-eraser-sized nipples.

'Round and 'round, lighter and lighter, slower and slower.  His pulse had slowed.  His breathing had returned to just below normal.  All sound had disappeared.

He was relaxed.  He was content.  He was happy.  He was ecstatic.  He was tingling all over.  He was on his back.  Tony was slowly, lovingly lifting his legs and placing them on his shoulders.  Tony was placing himself at his anal entrance.  Tony helped him move his legs from his shoulders, and helped him wrap them around his waist.  He locked his ankles together and pulled back toward himself.  He pushed out and willfully opened to Tony.  He came, he climaxed once more, and then again, and again, and still, yet once again.

WHAM!

He sat bolt upright in bed.  Alone.   His own bed.  He rubbed his eyes.  He had been asleep.  He had been dreaming.  He stretched his back muscles and yawned.  As his chest expanded, he felt a glue-like tightness on his chest.  He looked down at himself, and, sniffing, realized that his semen had dried.  And he remembered.  And smiled.

WHAM!

What the fuck was THAT? he asked aloud to no one but himself.  He jumped off the bed, dashed across the room, threw open the black-out curtains in front of the sliding glass door, and gazed at flying debris cluttering the pathway between the two wings of the apartment complex.

One of his neighbors – Mrs.  Weinstein – a frail, eighty-something-year-old, was struggling up the walkway using her cane, barely able to move forward against the force of the wind.  Suddenly, she jerked her head to the left, and their eyes met.  It was then that Gerry realized he was standing there, arms spread, holding the curtains open, in front of the sliding glass doors – NUDE!

She began shaking her cane at him, as if to admonish him, and nearly lost her balance from a gust of wind.  Surely, she would have fallen had it not been for some old bald-headed codger leaving the building, who caught her.  He looked to his right, and apparently seeing Gerry's nakedness, gave him the middle-finger salute.

Gerry looked down at himself, shocked at his forgetfulness, and yanked the curtains closed.  Then he peeked back out to see the old guy helping the little ol' lady into the safety of the building.  Sorry, Mrs. Weinstein.  Sorry, Sir.  I forgot.  Closing the little peek-a-boo hole, all he could do was laugh at the entire situation.

He looked at the clock – 3:00 PM.  He had slept for nearly eight hours.  It seemed as if it were no more than five minutes.  But that gave him two-and-a-half hours before his "appointment" dinner-date with Tony, and THAT gave him about an hour and forty-five minutes to get ready.  And he planned to be ready for anything!

He would begin by thoroughly cleaning himself out … just in case …!  His friends had all told him that whenever he anticipated some man was going to ‘fill him with love’, that, for common courtesy and cleanliness, he should prepare for it.  That would take about thirty minutes.  Then face, chest, abs, pubic and rectal shaving – another twenty to thirty minutes.  He'd have forty-five minutes to shower, shampoo and dress before he HAD to leave.

Hey, wait!  No, he wasn't going to dress for dinner.  He was going to meet Tony's "deal!"   'Cause he recalled Tony saying, "I'll join you. And to top it off, anything you want will be yours tonight."  And he sure as hell planned on getting what he wanted – TONIGHT!

Preparing for the evening, he began acting like a twelve-year-old kid, bouncing from side to side, excited about the prospects, and singing a little ditty that all the young guys joked about:

I'm gonna git some poontang; I'm gonna git some poontang.

<><><> 

He cleaned himself out.  He shaved himself off.  And started all over again.  Noting that he was a little ahead of his time schedule, he decided to forego the shampoo and shave his head instead.  He'd always wanted to do it.  Working nights and sleeping days, he had absolutely no sun on his skin at all, so he wouldn't exactly look like he was wearing a white skullcap.  And perhaps in the Caribbean, he could get an all-over tan.

For his shower, he used a coarse natural loofah sponge from Egypt with no soaps or cleansers of any kind.  He scrubbed every square inch of his body with more robust vigor than he ever had before, paying particular attention to his elbows, his kneecaps, and the heels of his feet.  This got rid of nearly every dead cell on his body, and gave him a healthy glow from his bare head to his already manicured hands and pedicured toes.

There was no artificial flavor or any fragrance on him anywhere.  He did, however, use the astringent, Witch Hazel, to close all the pores of his skin, and its very faint natural herbal fragrance would totally disappear in ten to fifteen minutes.  He brushed his teeth with Baking Soda, and gargled with good old-fashioned Listerine.  Yuck!  But they all worked, allowing his own pheromones freedom of their own un-contaminated attracting expressions.

Preparations finished, he slipped into only a pair of cargo shorts and a pair of leather sandals -- nothing else.  He shoved his wallet into his hip pocket, grabbed his key ring, and off he went to the building's subterranean parking area.  He unlocked and opened the door of his pickup, looked around, saw no one anywhere, and unzipped and quickly dropped his shorts.

He was, at that moment, standing there in a public area, albeit empty of any other living soul, totally naked, except for his sandals.  He bent over to pick up his shorts, and … WHAM! … a warm, sand-filled gust of wind slapped his bare ass and uptight balls.  He straightened up with a jerk and tossed his shorts into the cab, just as another sandy gust covered him and the inside of his truck in grit.

Awww, shit!  Tony ain't gonna like this!

Hope the freeway's still open!

<><><> 

Driving out the underground parking, he tuned the radio to KLVN, the station that periodically gave local highway conditions.

"… gusty, hazardous state of affairs north of Las Vegas, with road closures likely within the next couple of hours. Wind speed in the high fifties, and visibility less than three car-lengths.  Watch out for flying cows and garbage-can lids!"

Gerry remembered the sudden noise that jolted him out of his sleep.

Thank God!  He was driving south on I-15 rather than north – visibility was about a quarter-mile, and light traffic was moving only a little slower than normal.  He turned west on NA-160 toward Pahrump, and fifteen slow miles later, he saw the white-picket-fenced acreage Tony had described.

Turning onto the graveled driveway, he saw the rambling, rustic ranch-style house.  As he drove closer, he noticed one of the four doors on the garage-wing rolling upward, and could just barely recognize Tony, standing inside, motioning for him to drive in.  As soon as he was parked, Tony clicked a "remote" and the door began rolling down.

"It's a helluva sandstorm we got out there.  Sorry I'm late," Gerry said, stepping out of the truck and shutting the door, revealing his …

"What the fuck happened to YOU?  You look like you've been sandblasted!  Not a hair on your head …" Tony's eyes slowly traveled down the length of Gerry's body, "… your chest … your abs … your … your BALLS!"

With Tony obviously scrutinizing his crotch, Gerry's man-meat began to grow.  "And there's not a hair on my smooth little ass, either … if you'd care to check it out???"

His question was intended as an offer … as he stared at the inflating tent in Tony's trousers.  Quickly, somewhat imitating Mae West, he asked, "By the way … is that a … banana in your pocket? … Or are you just … happy … to see me?"

"Huh?" Tony asked, not even realizing his own excited state.  He looked down, coughed an embarrassed chuckle, grabbed his "package," jerked his hand upward, and re-arranged its contents.  Then, motioning toward a door, he said, "Let's get out of the garage and go inside.  After you."

As Gerry stepped in front of him, Tony swatted him playfully on the hairless crack of his ass.

Gerry jerked his head back, looking right into Tony's eyes, and, again like Mae West, said, "Ohhhhh! … you could have at least … LEFT it there!"

"You're gonna get yours!"

"Promises!  Promises!  That's why I'm here;  and why aren't you taking off your clothes?  Here, let me help you…"

They had entered the kitchen from the garage, and Gerry was reaching to unbutton Tony's shirt.

"Whoa!  Stop!" he demanded.  "YOU'RE not getting ME naked."

"YOU're not reneging on ME, are you?  On our deal?  You promised!  I kept my part of the deal, Tony.  And I've never known you to back down on anything you promised."

"Deal?  What deal?"

"This morning, you said … and I quote …, 'I'll make you a deal, you drive from your apartment out to my ranch in nothing but your birthday suit, and I'll join you.  And to top it off, anything you want will be yours tonight.  BUT!  You renege, and your ass is mine;  I shit you not!'   That's what you said this morning…"

"You didn't think…" Tony interrupted him.

"Wait, Nino!  I'm not through."  Gerry was taking a chance talking to him like this, but he felt it needed to be said.  " I did NOT renege, even though I could've easily done so, 'cause, truthfully, I planned on giving you my ass anyway!"

"You through?"

"No! … I drove from my apartment out here in a fuckin' sandstorm, from my apartment building, TOTALLY NAKED, and according to the deal, if I did that, you'd join me … inferring that you'd get naked with me."  He was breathing in short, quick breaths, and started biting his lips together, his eyes narrowing, and a deep frown growing across his brow.

They just stared at each other in silence.  Once they had started bickering, they had stood facing each other, from opposite sides of the butcher-block island, not moving an inch.  Tony watched a tear creep its way down Gerry's left cheek and fall on his quivering lower lip.  Gerry's hand started to move up to wipe it away.

"Stop!" Tony demanded.  Gerry froze, motionless.

Tony slowly walked around the island, moved Gerry's hand away, turned him by his shoulders, leaned in, and softly kissed away the tear, still on his lip.

"Yuck!" exclaimed Tony, quickly drawing back, and spitting in the sink, "… your hairless, sexy body has sand all over it.  How'd that happen?"

Gerry gulped, took a deep renewing breath, and answered, "A wind-devil grabbed me just as I was getting in the truck to come here."

After a moment's silence, they both laughed.

"OK.  But before you sit down anywhere …"

"Maybe I just better go back home," Gerry half-heartedly interrupted him.

"No! … You will not! …I don't want you to.  I want you to stay here … with me … tonight."

"WHAT?"

"You heard me, Gerry.  But as I was saying … before you sit down anywhere, follow me."  He took Gerry by the hand and began leading him through the rustic appearing, but very modern, fully equipped home.

"What? … Where? …"

"You'll see.

Suddenly, all hell broke loose!  The house lit up as if a thousand light bulbs had been turned on at once.  A hellish noise simultaneously thundered through the air and through the ground, and the floor shook and windows rattled as something exploded and everything went pitch black.

Gerry, naked and sandy, had jumped toward Tony, had thrown his arms around him, and Tony had hesitantly, but firmly, put an arm around Gerry, comforting him.

 
"Don't worry, babe;  the backup power generators will kick in, in just a moment or two."  Gerry snuggled closer, thinking, He called me ‘babe’!

Soon, with a soft omnipresent humming sound around them coming both from nowhere and yet everywhere, dim lights came back on throughout the house.  Tony hurried from window to window, looking outside through the furious sandstorm trying to find something, anything, that might have knocked out the power.  Gerry followed him like a puppy dog running after his human god.

Looking out the sliding glass door from the ebony-paneled master bedroom to the patio deck overlooking the swimming pool, Tony discovered that the electric transformer had exploded and was burning.  It was high on the telephone pole about fifty feet beyond the pool decking, and the gale-strength wind must have hurled something into it.  No real danger to themselves, and, thank God for the foresight to have the back-up generators …

… and the dozen musk-and-myrrh-scented candles evenly spaced near the spa only steps away from the king-sized water-bed.  Cloven tongues from flaming wicks danced above the candles.

Quickly counting the candles, Gerry exclaimed, "Looks like you were expecting company, Tony, or do you always worship the gods of the zodiac while bathing?"

"Gods of the zodiac?  What are you talking about?"

"Twelve candles … in a circle … evenly spaced … logically equals the twelve signs of the zodiac.  Right?"

"You're not as dumb about some things as you look, kiddo, but the spa's not for bathing.  It's for relaxing.  AND for having fun on nights like this," Tony answered very straight-faced.  Walking into the master bath area, he continued, "There's the shower.  Get all that sand rinsed off -- shouldn't take too long with your now being almost totally hairless.  You ready to eat?  It's already prepared."

"Sure, Tony; anything you want.  Anything!"  He walked into the step-down, tiled bathing area, sufficiently large enough for at least four people, with room to spare!

"You can dress for dinner … there's a robe on the vanity for you.  I'll put the food on the table.  It shouldn't take you more than five minutes."  He turned and walked back toward the kitchen and dining room.

"OK, boss man," Gerry replied.  Tony looked over his shoulder with a gentle smile.

At that moment, Gerry realized that Tony was still his boss and would not be led by a subordinate.  OK, he thought, while rinsing off;  he still has to be in total control of every situation.  I can play that game with him.  Whatever he wants, I'll do my best to give him.

Soon, he turned off the water, dried himself, and slipped into the full-length, white, terry robe with hood attached.  Instead of the normal terry belt, there was a brown, braided leather rope with a huge Celtic knot on each end. He tied the rope-belt, and pulled the hood up over his shaved head, and then returned to the kitchen area.

Seeing him, Tony called him into the dining room.

"Wow; what a feast!" Gerry exclaimed upon first seeing the spread before him.  "Did you cook all this?"  It was then he noticed Tony wearing an identical robe, also with hood up. We must look like two Druid monastic monks, he thought.

"No, my kitchen staff did.  I sent everyone home before the storm got too bad.  I just kept it warm."

Gerry nodded in understanding, then asked, "What is all this delicious looking food?  I don't even recognize much of it."

"First, we'll start with Oysters on the half-shell … good for the libido … hope you like them."  Gerry shrugged, never having had them.  Tony continued, "Then, Escargots with shallots and parsley in melted butter.  In honor of your going to Paradise, we’re having Coquilles St. Jacques, Caribbean style (Scallops, Shrimp, Crab and Lobster in a white sauce;  then covered with melted Brie and Gruyere cheeses;  Calamari … crispy, deep-fried giant squid …;  and Linguini with clam sauce.  For dessert … a tropical drink that's quite popular in the islands.  No alcohol;  very healthy.  Mango, papaya, guava, coconut milk, passion fruit, strawberries, 7-Up, and ice;  everything goes into a blender and is liquefied;  then poured into a tall chilled glass.  A stick of pineapple is put in, and a couple Maraschino cherries are added.  It's so thick, you eat it with a spoon."

"Wow!  I'm full already, even before we begin.  Everything sounds delicious!"  Gerry remarked.

They sat at the table.  Tony pushed the hood of his robe back.  Gerry followed suit.

Tony served a delicate white wine.  Dinner was delicious!  Gerry even enjoyed the raw Oysters and the Snails.  Everything was served in small portions … almost like appetizers.  The liquid dessert was scrumptious – light, and cleansing to the palate … no aftertaste of any kind, of any of the rich foods.

Conversation during dinner centered primarily on gambling – the school, the casino, ideas for improvements (Gerry's ideas at Tony's requests!), expansions, etc. … nothing really personal.

A lull came in the conversation.  The storm outside was raging.

"Thank you for a lovely dinner, Tony."

"You're welcome, Gerry."

Both men were a little uncomfortable.  They toyed with their wineglasses.

Gerry pushed his chair back, stood up, and walked over to a ceiling-to-floor window, peering into the blackish-brown storm.  "Maybe I should think about leaving, but the storm …"

"NO!"  Tony strongly interrupted.  "I said earlier that I wanted you to stay here with me tonight."  He, too, had risen from his chair, and had crossed to Gerry.  He placed his hands tenderly on Gerry's shoulders.  Gerry crossed his arms and pressed his hands on top of Tony's.

Gerry could see their reflections in the window.  It took every bit of willpower within him not to lean back against Tony's chest.

"Tony?" he asked.

"Yes, Gerry."

"Why did you want me to drive over here … NAKED?"

Tony didn't answer.

"Why? … Why?  Tell me. … Please," Gerry begged.

They both stood motionless, watching each other in the reflecting darkness of the glass.

It seemed as if an eternity of moments passed before Tony softly confessed, "To see how far I could push you."

"To see how … WHY?" he asked, sharply turning to face his idol, his fantasy god, while at the same time, placing his hands on Tony's waist.

Returning his hands then to the front of Gerry's shoulders, Tony answered, "When you first came into the school, I didn't think you'd make it.  I told the other instructors you'd never last the week.  But you did.  Then … after your second week, there was nothing that I said, nothing that I did, that upset you or made you angry with me.  You took everything I dished out to you.  At times, you even irritated me because I couldn't break you down."

Tony was talking.  Something was going to happen;  he had never given any personal information about himself.  Gerry felt that Tony was opening to him.

He continued, "Everything I demanded, you gave me … everything!  I've never met anyone like you, Gerry.  Everyone's afraid of me – and I like having that control, that fear.  That power over others.  It's like … you understand me … you know what I want, what I expect."

"I think I do, Tony;  I try to anticipate your needs." He knelt down on one knee as he let his hands slide to where the braided rope was tied, the rope that held Tony's robe closed.

"No, not just yet," Tony gently commanded with unspoken promises as he reached into Gerry's armpits and pulled him up, forcing him to stand once again.  He took Gerry's hand and said, "Come.  Come on.  Follow me.  Back to the master suite."

Still giving orders.  He always would.  That was his nature.

Turning off the house lights as they went from room to room, Tony led Gerry to the spa in the master bedroom.

They stood … perfectly still … facing each other.  Only an arm's length separated them.

Tony spoke.  "Untie the rope around your waist."  It was done.

"Let the robe just fall around your feet."  It, too, was done.

"Now untie the rope around my waist."  Done.

Gerry felt the stirring in his own loins, anew.

"And now … remove my robe."

He began to move behind to do his god's bidding, but Tony said, "No, Gerry. … From the front.  … Where you were."

At no time had his voice been sadistic.   At no time had it been demanding. His words were his simple wants, his desires, his wishes.  Gerry did not move in obedience;  he moved in loving compliance.

The palms of his hands nervously slid inside the robe at the center of Tony's chest.  Slowly, sensually, they caressed his furry skin, his erect nipples, while at the same time widening the opening of the robe until Gerry's hands slid across Tony's shoulders.

That soft, white robe … his god's only garment … dropped to the floor behind Tony, and Gerry noticed that the divine, seven-inch, uncut piece of masculinity was standing at full attention, with a clear pearl of man-nectar clinging to the tip of the skin.  They both were saluting each other in heavenly rapture.

"Please," Tony asked, "join me in the spa.  The mineral waters are relaxing.  Things have been a little tense around here tonight … of course, with the storm and all."

They both stepped in, and, at Tony's silent suggestion, sat on sunken ledges, opposite each other.

"And now," he continued," what were we talking about at the dining table? … Oh, yes.  It's like … you understand me … you know what I want, what I expect."

"And I said, 'I think I do, Tony.' "

"I think you do, too, but it's more than that … it's more like … like you worship me, Gerry, and I don't want your worship."

"What DO you want, Tony?  What do I have that you want?  What do I have that I can give to you?"

Tony's eyes became glassy.  There was silence, as he went within, a moment thinking, then whispering, "I can't say it!"

He stood, reached to the side for the champagne bottle in the ice bucket, and the two flutes he had placed there before Gerry arrived.  Adroitly removing the cork from the rare Ghirardelli's Clos du Lak Champagne, he half filled each flute, gave one to Gerry, and returned with the other to the opposite ledge.  He sat and took a sip, though he had forgotten to make a toast … or had he?

"What can't you say, Tony?"  Gerry asked, cautiously, before taking a sip of the bubbly, not recognizing it for what it truly was.

"Dammit, Gerry, I told you a moment ago that I can't say it;  now, don't ask me again!"

Gerry saw the pain in his face, heard it in his voice, and felt it coming from his heart.  He also heard the demanding commandment.

He wanted to wrap his arms around Tony and comfort and soothe his pain -- whatever the pain was.  But he'd wait for the moment when Tony would open his receptive centers.  He wouldn't force it.  He nodded his head in reply to Tony's strong words.

A moment more passed.  Tony calmed himself, and continued.  "Gerry, you've proven yourself to me many times.  You've shown me that I can trust you."

Gerry nodded and said, "I hope so, Tony, …"

"Shhhhh," he softly interrupted, with the quieting sound just above a whisper, then continued, "… Please … don't say anything.  Just listen."

Gerry nodded again, intuiting that Tony was going to open up and reveal himself as never before.

"If anything … ANYTHING …that I tell you tonight … ever gets back to me, Gerry … both you AND I … are going to be very … very … sorry … that this night … EVER … took place."  They coldly looked at each other -- Gerry, almost in shock.  "Can you handle that?"

Gerry slowly, diminutively nodded in the affirmative.

"OK."  He began his tale.  "I'll just give you the basics."  He took another sip of the champagne, refilled his flute, and offered a refill to Gerry. 

Gerry declined the offer, scarcely breathing.

"I don't know how much longer I can stay in Vegas, or for that matter, Nevada.  Shit!  I don't even know how much longer I can stay in the country."

Gerry's eyes were like saucers, but he didn't say anything.

"Don't ask;  I won't tell.  The less you know, the better.  You want me to go on?"  Gerry nodded yet again.

"I've been thinking about, and even making plans for getting out of here and going to the island of Curaçao, but once there, some people would expect to find me there -- people who I really wouldn't want to know where I was.  Now … I'm going to ask of you a favor;  not that I deserve any favors from anyone.  But … in a couple of months, when you're settled in Paradise, how would you feel if I were to show up one day, unannounced?  I have money … a lot of it, but we’d have to live simply for … God knows how long!  Could I stay with you until this thing blows over?  It could be for a very long time."

At hearing the proposal, Gerry grinned from ear to ear.  His eyes began to glisten and sparkle.  He was nodding, emphatically nodding his head up and down, and when he sensed that Tony was waiting for an answer, he jumped up and … froze … as Tony held up a hand for him to stop, and said, "I take it that's a Yes?"

"YESSSSSSSS!"

Tony chuckled as he stood to say, "Then bring your glass here, and let's toast to our friendship, to our partnership, and to your new job, Gerry.  May it lead to greater adventures than you've ever dreamed."

With glasses in extended hands, they moved toward each other from the opposing submerged seats in order for the flutes to clink together.  Each stepped with care toward the other in the hot, bubbling, swirling water, oblivious to the roaring storm beyond.  Cloven tongues from flaming wicks danced above the dozen musk-and-myrrh-scented candles evenly spaced near the spa as the gentle movement of their bodies stirred the surrounding air.

"Thanks, Tony, and may those greater adventures than I've ever dreamed of, begin here, this evening?"  Gerry returned the toast, not as a stated wish, but as a question to his host.

Tony drew his head back from its forward-relaxed position, squinted his eyes and studied Gerry for a moment.  "How am I to understand that?  What do you mean?"

"I've always dreamed …" Gerry offhandedly began, "… of sipping expensive champagne with a girlfriend, with our arms interlocked. Well, there ain't no girlfriends here … just us two guys … so would it be all right for a couple of guy friends to do it?   This is the first time I've ever had Ghirardelli's.  And if it works out for me, once I get to Paradise, we may never see each other again;  we may never have the opportunity to do this  again.  Please, Tony, please," he begged.  "It would mean SO much to me."

Tony smiled as he locked elbows with Gerry.

Unexpectedly, but not undesired, that's not all that touched.

"To Friendship and Partnership," said Tony.

"To Companionship and Love … tonight and always …" replied Gerry. They both sipped from their glasses, then set them aside before Gerry continued; "… for I do love you.  I love you with all my heart, all my soul, and all my body, Nino, and I …"

"Nino?  Nino?  Nino?  What's with you calling me 'Nino?' "

"Oh, shit!  Did I do it again?  I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry, Nino … Tony!  I don't know where the hell the name 'Nino' came from. … Even when I'm thinking about you while I'm jacking off, I think of you as 'Nino.'  I gotta feeling … I don't know where it's coming from … but I've got a feeling that your name is really 'Antonio,' and not 'Tony' or even “Antony."

Tony sat quickly on the edge of the spa in disbelief and after a long, silent moment he looked deep into Gerry's eyes and said, "You wanna hear something strange?  On my birth certificate in New York, it says 'Antonio,' and my Mama was the only person who EVER called me 'Nino.'  And now, you.  AND … Mama was the only one who ever, EVER, said she loved me, until tonight.  And again, it's you."

"I do love you Nino, Antonio, Tony, Antony … whoever the fuck you are!  Do you think you can love me?"

After a moment of dead silence, Tony looked down into the swirling water and replied in a choked whisper, "All I can say is … I'll try."

LOVE!  That's his one weakness … his only need … the one thing he hasn't had in years!  And I can give it to him!  In any way he wants it, Gerry thought to himself as he set his drink down, leaned forward sliding his hands across Tony's furry chest and around to his back.  He then leaned a little further down and lightly, tenderly, kissed Tony's skin just outside his heart.

He needs it so badly … and if I’m truthful to myself … so … do … I.  Everybody says … Gerry recalled what so many people had told him about the deepest expression of true Love that two men can share with each other.  I can do it!  I want to do it … with you, Tony … with only you!  I’m ready now to willingly give myself … my whole self … to you, my Love, he thought to himself as he kissed all around Tony’s chest and nipples and throat and chin and ears and eyes and nose and lips.

Standing straight again, he had pulled Nino/Tony up and tightened the hug so that their chests, stomachs, passion centers, thighs and knees experienced each other's quickening heat, and after breaking the kiss, he said, "Then, let's dry off, go over there to that huge waterbed and practice, practice, practice.  And once we've practiced enough … to quote the best and hunkiest teacher I've ever had … we've got to IMPROVE, IMPROVE, IMPROVE!  Now hop to it, Teach.  I've only got twenty-four hours before I have to be on that fuckin' plane!  And I wanna get in alotta huggin', and kissin', and lovin’, particularly the lovin’!  and … as the King of Siam used to say, ' et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.'   Now where’s that fucking lube?  I hope you’ve got a lot of it.  And, Tony … if you’re willing … I wanna learn how to give as well as you can teach me to receive.”

Shocked at Gerry’s statement, Tony asked, “You’re a virgin?”

“Not really,” Gerry confessed.  “It’s a long story – too long to go into tonight.  Let’s wait until you join me in Paradise.”

Silently they stared at each other for a moment.  Then, a slight grin grew across Tony’s lips, and he said, “We’ll see.”

<><><> 

Tony proved to be a fantastic fucker, so far as Gerry was concerned.  His loving, tenderness and concern far outweighed any small beginning pain that Gerry might have experienced.  Again and again and again.  Only … it wasn’t fucking.  It was a sacrament of Love.

Tony did, indeed, teach Gerry many things that bless-ed night.  And Gerry did, indeed, learn that it is equally as bless-ed to give … as it is to receive.

<><><> 

Four months after Gerry arrived in Paradise, he heard through the casino “grapevine” that Tony had been imprisoned.  For what … no one seemed to know … or at least, no one would tell him, if they did.

And not only had Tony been incarcerated, but he had also been murdered mercilessly in the shower-room.  No other details were known.  That was the only thing that Gerry was thankful for.

He was beside himself with shock and grief.  For two weeks, he refused to leave the condo that the casino had provided for his use.

No one understood the reason for his grief.  Per Tony’s wishes, and for Gerry’s safety, he was not to mention Tony at all – not even to let anyone in Paradise know that they even knew each other.  Tony had planned to take a different name and would arrange for reconstructive surgery on his face after leaving the States.  And now, Gerry would never see either face at all.

Gerry had truly fallen in love for the first time in his thirty-one years, and now that same love had been torn away from him.  He didn’t want to live, but he didn’t have the guts to end his own life, either.  He would return to Vegas.  He would try to find out what really happened.

<><><> 

Walking into the Lost Horizons Shangri-Lah, Gerry saw Marc Hansen, his ex-Shift Boss.  Catching his attention, they waved to each other.

Marc said something to one of the Pit Bosses, and then walked out of the Pit and rushed to Gerry’s side and gave him a hug.  Stepping back, he studied Gerry’s face and said,  “You look like shit, man!  What happened?”

Gerry was struggling to keep from breaking down and crying right there in front of Marc and everybody.  His eyes darted around the casino – everywhere he looked, he saw Tony;  memories flooded back into his consciousness.

He pulled a handkerchief from his hip pocket and dabbed the tears from his eyes, preventing them from spilling down his face.  He sniffled the mucus back into his sinuses, and swallowed what drained down his throat.

Heeding Tony’s warning, he avoided the truth as he answered Marc’s inquiry.  “I think I must’ve picked up some tropical bug.  I’ll be all right.”  He sniffled again.

Yeah, I got a call from Henri LeClerke.  He was very concerned about you.

At the mention of LeClerke’s name, Gerry frowned as if he didn’t recognize it.

“LeClerke … the owner of Paradise?” Marc asked, without really asking.

The recognition finally hit Gerry.  He nodded an apology.  He had only met the man once during his four months there, and that meeting had been on his second day on the job.

“Well …” he began, but didn’t finish whatever he was going to say.  Instead, he leaned in closer and quietly asked, “Is there some place we could talk privately, Marc?”  Gerry looked toward the upstairs conference room as a silent suggestion.

 “Sure.  What’s wrong, Ger?”  No longer were they ‘boss’ and ‘subordinate’.  As a concerned, friendly gesture, Marc put an arm around Gerry’s shoulders;  then they turned and walked toward the stairwell.

Once upstairs and in the plush room, they got bottled water from the small fridge, and moved to the wall opposite the door through which they had entered.  From about waist-high, two-way mirrors sloped up and out over the casino gaming area.  This was one of the several ‘eyes-in-the-sky’ where management or security could watch the action without being seen.

Gerry finally spoke.  “Is this room ‘bugged’?”

Marc frowned.  “What do you mean?”

“Is it really private here, or is what we’re gonna say being recorded?”

“You should know casinos well enough to know that nothing is recorded.”

“Yeah, right!” Gerry scoffed.

“No!  Honestly!  Nothing gets recorded in these rooms.”

“You can go to hell for lying, too, Marc.”

“Believe me, Ger.  Everything we say in here is as sacred as if we were in a Confessional.  Now, what’s up?  You sound serious.”

Gerry took a deep breath.  Avoiding Marc’s eyes, he looked down onto the gaming area, and again, everywhere he looked, he saw Tony.  The tears welled up again.

“Where’s Tony?”

Two simple, little words, but they told Marc volumes.

“Huh?”

“A couple of weeks ago …”  he paused, choosing his words carefully.  “A couple of weeks ago, I heard a rumor.”

A silent moment passed.  Each waited for the other to say something else until Marc finally asked, “About …?”

In a weak, high-pitched, choked voice, Gerry answered with only one word – “Tony.”  And then the water fountains broke loose – Gerry sobbed … uncontrollably.

“Oh, Gerry, Gerry, Gerry,”  Marc responded, wrapping his arms around him and letting him cry.  Another moment passed, and then they parted.  “Let’s sit down, Ger.”

They took seats next to each other at the conference table, Marc now holding Gerry’s hands.  “You worshipped him, didn’t you?”

“No.  I lov…”  Gerry spoke without thinking, then chopped off the word.

“You loved him, didn’t you?  I knew it all along!  You did, didn’t you?  Didn’t you?”  The words were vicious, but Marc’s tone grew soft and gentle, and when Gerry finally looked into his eyes, Marc had an understanding smile on his face.

Seeing a ‘friend’, Gerry relaxed a bit.  “You knew?  How did you know?  Was it that obvious?”

“No, Gerry.  It wasn’t obvious;  but I saw the way you sometimes looked at him.  I saw the way he put his arm around your shoulders – he never did that to anybody else!”

“Oh.”  Gerry hung his head.

“You know that I live not too far from his ranch, don’t you?”

Gerry shook his head indicating that he didn’t.

“Well, I was driving into work early the morning after your last shift, and I saw your truck backing out of his garage.  You spent the night with him, didn’t you?”

Gerry looked away, fighting to hold back more tears, pounding his fist on the table, and biting his lower lip.

“Don’t worry about my knowing, Ger;  I’m not going to say anything to anyone.”

Gerry showed no response at all.

“Maybe I shouldn’t tell you this …” Marc hesitated before continuing.  “But Tony and I had a few romps in the hay.”

Gerry looked at him, shocked.  “I didn’t know.”

“Nobody did.”  Another moment of silence, and then Marc added, “But Tony did the unspeakable – he committed the biggest crime in the gambling world – he embezzled from the casino, and when I say ‘embezzled’, I mean … a lot!”

“I don’t believe it!  He couldn’t have!  He wouldn’t have done that!”  Gerry shoved his chair back, jumped up, and started pacing around the room, jerking his head this way and that, like a cornered animal trying to escape.  “You’re lying!  You’re lying!  I know you’re lying!”  The tears were streaming down his face again.

<><><> 

Eventually, Marc was able to calm Gerry.  When they were seated again, Marc said, “I wondered if you might be involved with it, or if you even knew about it, but Gerry, watching the way you’ve reacted, I know that my suspicions were wrong … and I’m glad.  But we … you and I … have to be very careful not to talk about Tony.  It could raise other suspicions everywhere.”

<><><> 

“So when are you going back to Paradise?”

“I’m not!”  Gerry almost told him about Tony’s plans to join him, but quickly reasoned that it would be best not to say anything.  “I’m not going back there – the island’s too small.”

“You want your job back, here at the Shangri-Lah?”

“No!  I’ve gotta get outta this town – everywhere I look, I see Tony.  I gotta leave.  I don’t know where I’ll go, but I gotta leave.”

“I understand, Ger.  Sometimes, I wish I could, too.  But this is all I know, and I can’t make this kind of money anywhere else.”  Gerry nodded, and Marc continued.  “I know just the thing for ya!  Why don’t you go down to Palm Springs for a while?  I can recommend a nice little motel where I stay every time I go down there.  A couple of very ‘friendly’ guys run the place, if you know what I mean.  It’s very relaxing, and if you let it, it can be very healing, too.”

Gerry managed to smile a little.

“You can soak up some sun, meet a bunch of real nice people … all of the masculine persuasion, I might add … go hiking in the mountains or out in the desert.  It’s a wonderful place there.  I think you’ll like it.  I know I do;  and it’s a great escape.  I always feel so refreshed, so clean, so relaxed after a week of pure, unadulterated fun.”  He wriggled his eyebrows and grinned.

Gerry nodded.  They stood from their chairs, and hugged … a tender but masculine hug.

Pulling apart, but still with hands on each other’s waist, Marc said, “Let’s stay in touch, Ger, and if you should decide to stay there, maybe I’ll come down for a visit.”

Looking deep into Marc’s eyes, Gerry remembered and repeated Tony’s last words.

“We’ll see.”

<End of Chapter Eight>

<End of Part III>

Note from author: Some of you may be wondering why I didn't go into detail with the intimacies between Gerry and Tony at their last meeting. Well, to tell you the truth, it was so very beautiful that this stumbling author feels that he could never have done it justice. And besides ... it was the last thing they shared, and until his dying day, Gerry will keep those loving memories to himself, in the privacy of his soul.