plik

Second Chance:

His Only Choice

Ryan Field

Published by Ryan Field Press at Smashwords

Scanning, uploading and/or distribution of this book via the Internet, print, audio
recordings or any other means without the permission of the Publisher is illegal and
will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, events and characters are fictitious in
every regard. Any similarities to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely
coincidental.

All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

ISBN - 9781310119163

Cover and Design by:

www.glendalepubservices.com

All rights reserved. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole
or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

Published By:

Ryan Field Press

On the World Wide Web at:

http://www.ryan-field.blogspot.com

YLVLW 683(5,25=25* IRU PRUH PP ERRNV

Chapter One

On Sunday nights, Lance Johnson didn't get home from work until almost midnight, partly

because it was his usual night to do the extra weekly cleaning in the pizza shop's kitchen and partly because

it was poker night for his partner of ten years, Sergio. As part owner of the pizza shop, Lance maintained

certain routines and kept detailed lists of things he had to do.

On this particular Sunday night, he scraped a speck of melted cheese from the wooden block next

to the cash register and sighed aloud wondering if he'd remembered to order more cardboard boxes on

Friday. The last time he'd forgotten to do that Sergio had to make a run to the next town and buy pizza

boxes from their competitor and Sergio hadn't smiled about this.

Lance wiped the wooden board clean with bleach solution and sighed again, making a mental note

to check his supply list before locking up that night. He glanced around the clean perfect kitchen looking

for one more thing to do, hoping to kill time. It was eleven fifteen and he only had to walk out the back

door in the kitchen, turn to the right, and climb up a flight of faded old deck stairs to get to the apartment he

shared with Sergio.

When he spotted a few crumbs on the brown tiled floor beneath one of the pizza ovens, he crossed

to the back and pulled a broom from a small closet near the sink so frayed at the bottom it turned sideways.

He took his time sweeping the crumbs and even bent down to see if there were more crumbs beneath the

oven. He could never predict how long Sergio's Sunday night poker games with his buddies would last. It

all depended on who was winning and who ran out of money first. If one of the guys was on a winning

streak the game would end at midnight and Lance could go to bed. If the winners were balanced they could

all wind up playing into the early hours of the morning.

After he swept, he went over the exterior of the already shiny pizza ovens with a wet cloth one

more time. Then he bleached the back kitchen stainless steel counters and double checked his order list

from Friday and found he had ordered the cardboard boxes after all. At five minutes to midnight, he

removed his white apron and hung it on a hook near the back door and glanced around one last time. He set

the burglar alarm and stepped out into the cold January night. The dumpsters overflowing with a weekend's

worth of garbage had become invisible to him by then. It wasn't as bad in the winter as it was in the

summer. The twenty-degree temperatures made everything feel cleaner and toned down the smell of rotten

tomatoes and partially eaten slices of pizza.

As he climbed the back stairs he heard the deep hollow voices of men laughing and joking around.

They played cards at the kitchen table, an old-fashioned affair with a pale green Formica top, chrome trim,

and green Naugahyde chairs…a dinette set…that dated back to the 1950's. Sergio had been promising him

for the past ten years they would move eventually to their own home and rent out the apartment above the

pizza shop. It wasn't that they didn't have the money. The pizza shop did well and Sergio was now part

owner of the local gym. It's just each time they reached the point where it was time to move Sergio found

another investment and promised they would move right after that. Sergio seemed comfortable in the

apartment; he rarely left town for longer than a day at a time.

At first, it was the time Sergio wanted to invest in the stock market. He'd received a tip from one

of his clients at the gym and he'd invested all their money in one stock claiming they would become

millionaires overnight. The stock failed and it took four years of scrimping and saving to replenish all

they'd lost. After that, Sergio wanted to invest in a landscape company that only planted fake shrubs and

plastic grass. They lost everything in that venture, too, and wound up working another four years to save up

enough for a home. And when they reached that point again, Sergio was offered the opportunity to invest in

the gym where he'd been a trainer for years and he literally begged Lance for permission to do this.

Unfortunately, they learned some gyms are not huge moneymakers and it takes years to get back an initial

investment. The only reason the owner had asked Sergio to invest was because his cash flow had been

dwindling to nothing. So Lance went back to working in the pizza shop seven days a week, scrimping and

saving for another shot at owning his own home again. He'd once owned a home with his first partner but

that seemed like another lifetime now.

At least they had the pizza shop, which wasn't the most glamorous business but always generated

an income. After Sergio's parents were killed in a freak auto accident that involved a donkey cart and a

loose goat while they were on a trip visiting family in Italy, Sergio inherited the pizza shop and he and

Lance moved right into the apartment over the shop where Sergio's parents had lived. This all happened the

first year they were together and Lance was still running a little bookshop in town that he'd been trying to

expand into a full time money generating small business. But then e-books started taking over, people

stopped buying print books as often, and Lance couldn't figure out a way to run both businesses at the same

time. So he took over the pizza shop and shuttered the little bookshop he'd loved so much. The pizza shop

was a sure thing; the bookshop was questionable. And Lance and Sergio were in no position to choose

glamour over reality. When Lance had left his first partner for Sergio, he'd left with nothing but the clothes

on his back.

Lance opened the back door of the apartment and entered the kitchen. The guys at the table all

turned and shouted in his direction. Sergio was at the head of the table, Sergio's best friend, Marco, was at

the other end, Joey and Mike were on the right, and a big guy who owned the auto body shop in town,

Frankie, was on the left.

"There's my hot little piece of ass," Sergio said, as he held the cards closer to his chest and looked

up at Lance.

Although things had changed a lot with gay people since they'd first met in 2012, Lance still felt

awkward when Sergio said things like this in front of other people. He sent Sergio a look and said, "Be

good."

Sergio belched, pressed his fist to his stomach, and said, "Get over here and sit on my lap, bitch.

You'll bring me luck." Then he looked at the other guys and said, "Did you ever see such a hot piece of ass

on a sixty year old."

"Very funny," Lance said, as he made his way to the refrigerator to get a small container of yogurt.

He hadn't eaten all day and he wanted something light. But he frowned at Sergio on the way and sent him a

quick glare. He hated when Sergio joked around about his age. He wasn't sixty, he was fifty. And people

told him all the time he looked more like forty. Sergio joked about his age because when they'd first met

Lance had lied about his age. He'd told Sergio he was thirty-five, when in reality he was forty. Though

Lance didn't know it, at the time he was going through a huge mid-life crisis, he'd been very frustrated with

his first partner, Davis, and he didn't think lying about his age would matter much. He'd used Sergio as a

personal trainer, and Sergio had been twenty-eight at the time. He thought Sergio was straight and he hadn't

planned on anything romantic. To this day there were times when Lance looked back at how the events of

his life had unfolded and wondered how he'd arrived where he was.

"Seriously, dude," Sergio said. "Get that hot ass over here and sit on my lap."

The other guys started to laugh. Marco said, "Give your husband what he wants."

Joey and Mike elbowed each other in the ribs and Mike said, "I'll bet he gives him plenty all the

time."

Lance knew they were only joking around, so he set the yogurt on the counter and walked over to

the table. In a dramatic gesture that was meant to be funny more than it was sexual, he ripped off his shirt,

lifted his leg, and straddled Sergio's waist. As he sat down on Sergio's lap, he arched his back and put his

arms around Sergio's shoulders. He ran his hands up and down Sergio's arms and shoulders in a slow,

seductive way. The other guys started laughing and hooting, egging him on, so Lance leaned forward and

kissed Sergio so hard on the lips Sergio dropped the cards and his arms fell limp at his sides.

Frankie pounded the table and said, "I'm next." A joke; Frankie was straight.

A moment later, Lance stood up and returned to the counter to get a spoon for his yogurt. One of

the guys patted his butt as he passed and another one punched Sergio in the arm and said, "You gay guys

are the lucky ones. My wife never does shit like that to me anymore."

Sergio picked up his cards and sat back with his shoulders squared. "That's because I've got me

one hot little bitch over there, man. He'll do anything I ask."

Lance made a face and said, "I'm going to bed now. I'll see you later, stud." Then he said

goodnight to the other guys, kissed Sergio on the top of the head, and went to the other end of the

apartment to the master bedroom.

He closed the door and set the yogurt down on the nightstand beside the bed Sergio's mother and

father had slept in for forty years. It was that big old heavy furniture with scrolls and carvings that always

made him a little nauseous. He removed all his clothes, climbed into bed, and switched the TV to the adult

only gay channel to watch gay porn. Even though what he'd just done to Sergio in front of the other guys

suggested they had an active, passionate sex life, Lance usually wound up jerking off alone. In the

beginning Lance and Sergio did nothing but have sex, but after the first two years it started to dwindle. And

by the seventh year it became almost non-existent.

They were legally married, and Sergio had been honest about his sexual needs during their sixth

year together. He said he loved Lance and wanted to remain married to him, but he also needed both men in

women in his life on the side. So they worked out an agreement to have an open relationship where they

could both take on other lovers on the side and in many ways it seemed to work for Sergio. But it was an

agreement Lance found tiresome because he'd reached the point in his life where he was more interested in

a home, one man, and taking a little time off to enjoy the smaller things in life he'd never been able to enjoy

when he was younger. And there were times when he passed the space where his old bookshop in town had

been ten years earlier and he felt like sitting down and sobbing for no reason at all.

He never did that. He'd made his choices in life and he never complained about them to anyone.

And it wasn't that he was unhappy either. He just wondered sometimes what it would have been like if he'd

remained with Davis, his first partner, instead of running off with Sergio, looking for the kind of passion in

the middle of his life that he now knew rarely lasted longer than the trite blink of an eye.

That night Lance chose a gay porn film about gang banging. He'd never had any particular kinks

or fetishes, but there was something about one guy getting tagged by a dozen or more other hot young guys

that made him harder than anything else. This one turned out to be better than most because it focused more

on long shots than close ups. He'd never been able to understand why so many of the people who made

porn seemed to think viewers were interested in watching a close up of a penis sliding in and out of an

asshole for fifteen or twenty minutes at a time.

That night, it only took him about fifteen minutes to get off and by the time he'd switched to an old

sitcom rerun Sergio had entered the bedroom and he'd already removed his pants. Lance crawled to the end

of the bed where Sergio was removing his shirt and he reached for Sergio's dick. He grabbed it gently and

sucked it soft for a minute, and then he looked up at Sergio and said, "I haven't given you a blow job in a

long time. Why don't you lie down on your back and let me do it for you now; just like I used to do it." He

was still horny. He could still see the one guy in the film getting gang banged by a group of frat house

dudes.

Sergio grabbed the top of his head and yawned. "I'm kind of tired, man. Maybe in the morning."

He said that all the time and Lance was getting sick and tired of it. "I should have gone out and

blown the other guys. I'll bet they would have liked it."

Sergio laughed and said, "Seriously, man. I don't think they're gone yet. I'll go down and get them.

I'll bring them back up and you can knock them off one after the other. I saw the way Mike and Joey were

looking at your ass. They can take turns fucking you, too."

Lance knew that tone. Sergio had a sardonic streak. "Go get them. I'm game. I'll take good care of

them all."

Sergio shook his head and climbed into bed. Although his hair had thinned out a little, he still had

the stocky, muscular body he'd had when they'd first met. "Shut the fuck up and go to sleep, you old whore.

I'll fuck you in the morning so hard I'll put your head through the wall." Then he turned over, pulled the

covers to his neck, and turned out the light on his nightstand.

In the morning, Lance climbed out of bed and found Sergio in the kitchen making coffee. It looked

as if Sergio had showered and dressed for the day and Lance made no attempt to seduce him again.

Lance sat down at the table and said, "You're up early today." Sergio usually slept until ten or

eleven and went to the pizza shop on Monday mornings around noon. Though the business had belonged to

Sergio's parents, Lance had wound up taking over most of the full time responsibilities. If it had been up to

Sergio, he would have sold the pizza shop and invested the money in something even more ridiculous than

plastic landscaping.

Sergio pressed a button on the coffee maker and said, "I thought I'd get up and open the shop for

you today. You can take your time. You haven't been to the gym for a while. You should go and spend the

morning there."

Lance smiled. "Well, thank you. I'd like that. I haven't had a Monday morning off in a long time.

Are you sure?"

Sergio set a cup of black coffee in front of him and said, "Yeah, man. I want to do it. And that new

part time guy we hired is coming in this morning." Then he kissed him on the forehead and turned toward

the back door so he could open the pizza shop on time for the morning crowd.

On mornings like this, Lance realized he didn't have the worst life in the world. Although nothing

in his life had turned out the way he'd planned, Sergio didn't abuse him, he'd always been honest, and there

was something about being married to a strong, alpha man that Lance had always liked. In a more refined

way, Lance's first partner, Davis, had been just as strong. So Lance took his time finishing his coffee that

morning, made another cup, and then took the first long hot bath he'd taken in months.

After he put on his nicest workout clothes, he went down to the pizza shop to see if Sergio needed

anything before he left for the gym. But when he entered through the back door he caught a glimpse of

Sergio making out with the new part time college student they'd recently hired. The younger guy's pants

were down to his hips. Sergio's hands were all over the college student's ass and Sergio was kissing the

twenty-one year old the same way he used to kiss Lance. For a moment, Lance stood in the doorway

watching, as the pain in his stomach came and went. They had an open marriage, but one of the things upon

which they'd both agreed was that neither of them would ever take anyone home and get emotionally

involved. But more than that, they would never, under any circumstances, fool around with the help.

And yet as much as this hurt and as much as it violated their agreement, Lance felt an unusual

numb feeling deep down inside he found hard to explain. So instead of pounding through the door waving

his fists and screaming, he walked into the kitchen quietly and said, "I just wanted to see if you needed

anything. Obviously, you're getting all you need right now. I'll leave. I don't want to disturb you boys." He

glanced at the young guy's naked ass and frowned.

The young college student gaped at him with swollen red lips and pulled up his pants.

Sergio jumped back and said, "It's not what it looks like."

Lance smiled and walked into the front part of the kitchen that was exposed to customers. On his

way, he waved and said, "It's okay, Sergio. I'll leave you alone." He knew his apathy would bother Sergio

even more than if he'd gone berserk. He knew how it grated on Sergio's last nerve to dismiss him

completely.

"Wait," Sergio said. He came up from behind and grabbed Lance's arm. "I never did anything with

him before. I swear."

Lance turned and looked at him. He'd obviously planned to meet the guy that morning and his

gesture to open the shop for Lance had been an excuse. But Lance spoke with an even voice, and he didn't

have to force himself to do this. He still felt numb, as if he'd made his choices and was prepared to live with

them. "It's okay. I just thought we weren't supposed to do things like this at home, is all. I thought we were

supposed to be discreet. But now that I know I have permission to play around with the help I'll hire

someone for myself and he can fuck me over the trash cans out back." He'd never actually taken another

lover. He'd agreed to Sergio's terms and the open marriage, but he still hadn't actively gone out to find sex

with other men.

"I'll fire him," Sergio said. "I made a mistake."

"I don't want to talk about this now," Lance said. "We'll talk later tonight." Thanks to their

agreement of an open marriage it was a difficult argument to make. Sergio wasn't really cheating, not in a

classic sense. He'd just broken a rule of the agreement.

Before Sergio had a chance to reply, he glanced over Lance's shoulder and tightened his fists.

Then he pushed Lance aside, ran to the front of the shop waving his fist, and said, "There he goes again,

that little fucker. If I ever get him I'll break his fucking legs."

He was talking about the UPS man. For the past twenty years the same tall, slim, dark-haired UPS

man had been speeding up and down the streets of their little town in a quest to make all his deliveries

earlier than the day before. Lance barely knew this guy because most of Lance's deliveries came through

the post office. And in his mad rush to deliver, the UPS guy usually just left boxes outside doors. Every

morning without fail he would zip past the pizza shop with a screech, and then speed back on the opposite

direction a few minutes later. He'd run over dogs, cats, and even hit a deer one summer. He'd clipped

mailboxes, trees, and rear view mirrors on occasion. How he hadn't run over a person was either pure luck

or unusual skill. People would complain to UPS about him, he would slow down for a few weeks, and then

he would return to his dangerous speeds as if no one had ever noticed it. Most people in town were used to

him by then. And Sergio usually woke up after the UPS man had made his run so he didn't see him all the

time. But every time Sergio saw him speeding up and down the streets he threatened to pull him out of the

truck and break his legs.

Lance didn't feel like discussing the UPS man, or anything else with Sergio that morning. He

walked to the front door and said, "I'll see you later. I need to get out of here."

"Don't leave like this," Sergio said. "I'm sorry. I'll fire him right now. I love you."

"I'm not mad," Lance said. "I'm just tired. And I want to get out of here and forget about

everything for a while. I need time to think."

"I'll drive you to the gym," Sergio said.

"It's a nice morning and I feel like walking," Lance said. Sergio's car made him more nauseous

than the old bed upstairs…a vintage red Corvette from the 1970's that Lance had always thought was the

epitome of bad taste and 1970's design.

Sergio followed him out to the parking lot and said, "Then call me when you're finished and I'll

come over and pick you up."

Lance continued walking toward the road and said, "I'll walk home. I don't mind."

Sergio shouted this time. "I'm coming over and that's that. I'll be there by noon. I love you."

Lance stopped in the middle of the street and he turned all the way around to face Sergio. But as

he turned he saw Sergio make a fist and lift it high above his head. He watched Sergio's lips move as if he

were trying to say something. Then Lance heard a loud swish followed by a thump. After that, he felt as if

he were suspended in mid-air, floating slowly toward a puffy cloud so close he could reach out and touch it.

When he looked down, the last thing he saw was Sergio in the middle of the parking lot on his knees, with

tears streaming down his face, pounding the pavement with both fists. He tried to call down and ask Sergio

what was wrong, but he couldn't find his voice.

Chapter Two

"Welcome," said a deep voice from the other side of a room so unusual Lance didn't know where

to look first.

Lance blinked a few times and focused on a long white table with curved legs that had been

carved with scrolls, swirls, and delicate ball and claw feet. The tapered white legs were so subtle Lance

wasn't sure they could support the athletic young man sitting in the middle of the table. The young man was

nude, except for a generic jock strap Lance had seen all his life in locker rooms. He was leaning back on his

palms to support his upper body, and his beefy legs dangled freely over the front of the table.

"It's nice to meet you, Lance," said the young man. He reminded Lance of a professional athlete

he'd read about in a magazine. He couldn't remember the guy's name but he'd never forgotten his chest

muscles or the way his arms bulged in the photo.

"Where am I?" Lance said, with a timid voice. He glanced around and saw nothing but mirrored

walls, a silvery frosted floor, but no ceiling. As he glanced up, he gaped at the bluest sky he'd ever seen.

But as his gaze went down and he caught a glimpse of his nude body in one of the mirrors, he gasped and

covered his private parts. "I'm naked."

"My name is Rory," said the stocky young man. He hopped down from the white table, put his

hands on his hips, and smiled. In a standing position the bulge in his jock strap protruded even more than

when he'd been seated. It stuck out so deliberately he seemed forced to wear the waistband lower around

his pelvis, which in turn exposed a generous amount of brown pubic hair.

Although he should have been shaking, Lance took a deep breath and said, "How do you know my

name? And what am I doing here?" The last thing he remembered was looking down at Sergio kneeling in

the parking lot of his pizza shop.

Rory sent him a long, seductive glance and said, "You're in The Department of Second Chances,

I'll be your guide for the short time you're here, and you're here for a specific reason."

"Where are my clothes? I look different." He noticed he didn't look the same either. Although he

still looked good at fifty years old, his reflection in the mirrors appeared more like he'd looked at forty

when he'd first met Sergio and started working out regularly at the gym.

"You don't need clothes here, Lance," Rory said, taking a few steps forward. "Clothing was part of

your old world. And the people who come here always look exactly the way they did at the best times of

their lives. In your case, although I will admit you always looked good, the best time of your life physically

was when you were in your early forties."

Lance closed his eyes and shook his head. At first, he thought this might all be a dream, or maybe

he'd lost his mind. He'd been under a great deal of stress with work lately and he'd been having vivid

dreams at least three or four nights a week. In his case, they weren't nightmares. They were sex dreams

where he got to live out many of the fantasies he'd never mentioned to anyone aloud, most of which

involved gang bang scenes.

He sent Rory a confused glance and said, "I don't understand."

"You're dead, my friend."

"Dead?"

"Do you remember crossing the road on your way to the gym?" Rory asked.

"Yes."

"The speeding UPS guy got you, buddy," Rory said. "But you never felt a thing. I usually handle

this disclosure with more sensitivity, but I thought you'd appreciate my honesty up front." He took another

step forward and adjusted the bulge in his jock. He seemed to have grown thicker and longer.

Lance laughed. "This is rich. I have to admit this is one of the best dreams so far. I thought the one

where the hockey team fucked me was detailed. But this is one I'll never forget."

As if he wanted to prove this wasn't a dream, Rory walked right up to Lance and grabbed his right

hand. Then he guided Lance's hand to the bulge between his legs and said, "Touch me. Go ahead. You'll

see this isn't a dream. Frankly, you're not creative enough to dream in that kind of detail."

Lance hesitated for a second, and then he squeezed Rory's jock strap a few times. When he felt

Rory get harder in his hand, he jumped back, covered his mouth his with both hands, and said, "It never felt

that way before in my dreams. I never actually felt anything." In his vivid sex dreams his contact with other

men often resembled an abstract moment to moment altered state of being where his senses didn't seem

real. When he touched a man…or men…in one of those dreams he never actually felt them. It was more

like going through the motions without actually having the experience. And he would slip from scene to

scene without any warning whatsoever, often observing himself in these dreams without participating.

When he realized he'd been standing there this long with Rory and nothing had changed he felt a lump in

his throat.

"Touch me again," Rory said. "It's real this time. You're not sleeping, and this isn't something from

which you'll wake."

He remembered the thump he'd felt in the middle of the road, and then the push that sent him

airborne. If he really was dead, it must have been the UPS truck hitting him. Though he'd felt an odd sense

of discomfort for an instant, he'd had blind pimples on his backside that had hurt more than getting hit by

the truck. He stepped forward and squeezed Rory again and felt his full erection sticking through the jock

strap. "This really isn't a dream. It is real."

"There's no need to be afraid," Rory said. He pushed his pelvis forward, encouraging Lance to do

more.

Lance tilted his head sideways and looked into Rory's eyes. "I'm actually not afraid. But I have a

bad feeling I should be."

Rory shrugged. "It depends. Everyone's different. The woman before you freaked out so much I

had to call for support. She wasn't ready for us yet."

Lance looked down and noticed the head of Rory's dick pushing upward toward the wide elastic

waistband of the jock strap. It looked so confined and uncomfortable and adorable Lance couldn't resist his

next move. But first, he looked up at Rory and smiled. "Can I take it out?" He'd never actually spoken to

anyone in his dreams either.

Rory laughed and caressed his face. "You can do whatever you want to me."

With his left hand, Lance pulled the elastic waistband away from Rory's lower abdomen, and with

his right, he reached into the warm jock strap, wrapped his fingers around as much as he could, and gently

pulled it out. Then he looked up again at Rory and said, "Now that's much better."

"For someone who hasn't had much experience with other men you certainly are comfortable with

me," Rory said. "I thought you might be shy."

"How do you know about my experience with men?" Lance asked. The truth was he hadn't been

with a lot of men. He'd been with his first partner, Davis, for twenty years and he'd met Davis fresh out of

college. He's always been monogamous, at least right up to the time he met and fell in love with Sergio.

He'd never cheated on Sergio either, and they had an open marriage. There had been a few men before

Davis and Sergio, but nothing Lance considered important. His experiences with those men in college had

never amounted to anything more than making out in the backseat of a car, an unreciprocated blow job

some guy had once given him, and a few harmless sexual experiences in gay bars.

"At The Department of Second Chances we know everything about you," Rory said. "Take off the

jock strap for me. I'd rather be naked like you."

Rory release Sergio's erection and reached for the waistband of the jock with both hands. As he

slid the jock down Rory's hips and legs, Lance went down to his knees so he could remove it altogether.

When Rory was as naked as Lance, he looked down at Lance and said, "That's much better."

Lance rested his palms on Rory's thighs and licked his lips. Rory's erection was even with his

mouth and he could smell the gentle masculine scent coming from between Rory's legs. He closed his eyes

and inhaled for a moment, then he looked up at Rory and said, "If I'm dead this isn't cheating on Sergio, is

it?" Even with the open marriage agreement, he'd always felt as if he would be cheating on Sergio if he

took another lover…probably because the agreement hadn't been his idea.

"No," Rory said. "You're not cheating on anyone. You're free to do whatever you want and guilt

has no meaning here."

Lance licked his lips again and said, "Well in that case…"

He opened his mouth and wrapped his lips around the head. Unlike the men he'd sucked in his

dreams, he could taste and feel Rory. His head went forward and he pressed his tongue against the bottom

and sucked without making a sound. He had to concentrate on what he was doing because Rory filled every

last inch of his mouth and he didn't want his teeth to graze him. But no matter how hard he concentrated he

couldn't seem to take the entire length into his mouth without choking. He tried, but he could only get

three-quarters of it past his lips. For an instant, he went all the way down, felt Rory's pubic hair against his

nose, and tried to remain like that for a minute. Then he started choking and a tear stung his eye. So he had

to pull back and suck as much as he could take without gagging.

Although he still felt odd, and this Department of Second Chances place made no sense to him,

sucking Rory's cock felt so natural and right he continued without stopping until Rory finally reached for

his head with both hands and said, "We have to move forward. I have a little surprise for you."

"A Surprise?"

Rory inserted two fingers in his mouth, inhaled, and let out one of those piercing whistles Lance

had never been able to do. As Rory helped Lance stand up, Lance heard deep voices in the distance. The

voices came from a remote foggy part of the room beyond the white table. A moment later, naked young

men started loping into the room, talking dirty, joking and shoving each other around, acting as if they were

in a locker room.

Lance put his arm around Rory and leaned closer to him. He couldn't call what he was

experiencing fear, but he wasn't sure what to expect and he felt safe with Rory.

Rory put his arm around Lance and said, "Don't worry. These guys are what you've been dreaming

about all your life. You should know that by now."

Lance gulped. "You know about those fantasies, too?" He'd never told anyone his fantasy of being

taken by a large group of young men. He'd always kept that private because he'd believed everyone should

have at least one secret no one else knew about.

"You're going to love this," Rory said. "These are the men you've been dreaming about all your

life."

Lance watched four strong young men set a mattress down in the middle of the silvery floor. The

mattress had a few stains, it looked frayed at the corners, and there was even a hole where it was losing

stuffing just like the unkempt mattress in his fantasies. He pressed his palm to Rory's chest and asked, "Are

you serious about this? I'm not sure I can do it. After all, there's a difference between fantasy and reality.

There are a lot of men over there." Each time he glanced toward the men he saw another one he hadn't

noticed earlier. They seemed to come in all sizes, shapes, types, and looks. There were men from different

ethnicities with darker skin tones, and men with lighter Nordic appeal. A few had red hair, some had hair

hanging below their shoulders, and others had completely shaved heads and tattoos. One of the men had

such a long scruffy beard he reminded Lance of a cave man.

Rory gestured to the mattress and said, "Just go over there, get down on the mattress, and the guys

will do the rest."

"Oh, I'm not sure," Lance said. He noticed they all had different dicks, too. Some were average,

some were short and thick, and many were even longer and thicker than Rory's. "A few of those guys could

hurt me."

Rory took his hand and led him to the mattress. The young guys who were about to gang bang him

had gathered around and formed a long line, as if already waiting their turn. When they saw Lance, they

started calling his name, waving their fists, and grabbing their dicks. Rory pointed to the mattress and said,

"If you need me, I'll be here watching the whole thing. I have to admit that I've been looking forward to this

for a while." He rubbed his palms together and sent Lance a pervy smile. "It's not every day someone with

your fantasy comes here."

"If I want to stop, I can?" Lance asked. He glanced at the rowdy young men and frowned.

"Just let me know and I'll tell them to stop," Rory said. He patted Lance's ass and pushed him

toward the eager young men waiting for him on the mattress. "You're going to love this."

So Lance shrugged and stepped on the mattress. As he went down on his hands and knees, one

guy shouted, "Look at that hot ass." Another guy said, "That's one hot bitch." And yet another said, "Get

me some of that tight ass." In Lance's fantasies the men who had gang banged him always worshipped him,

but in this harmless, degrading way. It wasn't humiliation in the truest sense, but the overall intention was

for Lance to submit to aggressive men who objectified him in a controlled way.

After the first ten, Lance lost count. At one point, a muscular young man with big dark hands

grabbed Lance's waist, turned him around, and lowered him on to his back. He fucked Lance as Lance's

legs dangled over his shoulders. When he finished, a young man with reddish brown hair took his turn and

fucked Lance sideways. By the time the last group of guys took their turns team tagging him, Lance was

sprawled out face down on the mattress with his arms and legs splayed so wide it looked as if he were

about to make upside down snow angels.

The last guy pulled out and slapped Lance's ass hard. Rory walked over to the mattress, reached

for Lance's hand, and helped him stand up. As Rory placed his palm at the small of Lance's back and

guided him to the long white table, a few guys who had just fucked Lance picked up the mattress and

headed back toward the same section of the room where they'd appeared.

Lance sent them a backward glance and said, "I thought I would enjoy that more. Don't get me

wrong. It was fun. But it's all so casual and unemotional here."

"Not exactly," Rory said. He grabbed Lance by the waist and lifted him up so he could sit on the

table. Then he jumped up and sat beside him. "I haven't mentioned the real reason you're here. What just

happened was only you getting a chance to live out your fantasy. It's like a bonus. But it's not all that

important."

Lance laughed. "That's easy for you to say. I just got pumped by more men than I can even count

and I need to use a bathroom." All those men had left him a mess and he wanted to clean up.

"You don't need a bathroom," Rory said. "There won't be enough time."

"What's next?" He felt a thump in his chest. "I don't think I can take on any more guys today."

Rory turned and sent him a stern look. "The main reason you're here has nothing to do with sex.

You're here because you've been selected to go back to your life and get a second chance."

"You're joking."

"I wouldn't joke about that," Rory said. "It's not complicated, so pay attention. You're going to get

a chance, if you want the chance, to return to the most pivotal time in your life. It's the time when you made

a choice, and that choice affected the outcome of your entire life. In most cases, people return to their

youths. But your case it is a little different because the most pivotal point in your life happened when you

were forty. Do you know what I'm talking about?"

Lance didn't have to think twice. "Of course I know." He'd led an uneventful life until he was

forty, and he hadn't been prepared for what had happened.

"You don't have to go," Rory said.

"What happens if I don't go back?"

Rory shrugged. "I can't disclose that. I'm sorry but it's one step at a time here. I stick to the rules."

"Let me get this straight," Lance said, "I get a chance to go back and redo my life. I can do things

differently if I want to."

"Not exactly," Rory said. "It's not that simple. If you choose to go back for a second chance there's

no guarantee you won't make the same choice twice. That's really up to you. You won't be aware you're

getting this second chance."

"That's not fair," Rory said. "Now that I know all the things I know about life I should be able to

draw from my experiences."

"Nothing in life is fair," Rory said. "And you're no exception to the rule. Everyone gets their

chances and everyone is treated equally. But sometimes we like to offer second chances where there were

unusual circumstances."

"I'm not sure I want to do that," Lance said. "If I do everything the same all over again I'm only

repeating myself."

"Most people get some kind of sign the second time, so you might not repeat yourself," Rory said.

"It's not anything obvious, and sometimes people ignore their intuition. But most of the time it works out

well. The only risk you run is doing the same thing twice. And if that's an issue you are by no means forced

to take your second chance."

"Can I think it over for a day or two?" Lance asked. He knew if he took the second chance he

would be returning to the time when he'd first met Sergio. His first partner, Davis, had been away on

business so often and he'd been so lonely.

"No, there's no time," Rory said. "You have to decide now."

He thought for a moment. He remembered the passion he'd first experienced when he'd met

Sergio. Then he remembered the pain all over Davis's face when he'd told Davis he was leaving to be with

Sergio. He hadn't seen a grown man with such a horrified expression since then. And yet, through all the

pain, he'd loved Sergio with all his heart.

"We don't have much time," Rory said. "You have to decide."

Lance squared his back and said, "What do I have to do?"

"Close your eyes," Rory said. "You'll never remember a thing that happened here."

Lance closed his eyes and said, "Wish me luck. I have a feeling I'm going to need it. I'm not even

sure what I would choose right now, and I'm aware of everything. I loved both of those men very much,

and my life wasn't easy with either of them."

Chapter Three

In the year 2012, Lance's little bookshop was the last one of its kind for miles. Lance had known it

would be a risky business when he'd opened it twenty years earlier. Back then huge corporate bookshops

that sold everything from stuffed animals to scented candles had begun to pop up in malls, which made it

difficult for smaller bookshops to compete.

Some people Lance knew would have said his business timing was as off as his taste in books. He

tended to look down on the more commercial books that involved sensationalism and exploitation. And it

didn't stop there. Some called him an outright, unapologetic literary snob. If a book was on Oprah

Winfrey's Book Club list he usually refused to carry the book in his shop. This led many of his mainstream

customers to gaze at him with blank stares when they asked for a particular book and he would reply, "We

don't carry that sort of thing here, but we have a wonderful selection of current and vintage fiction, and

non-fiction, please feel free to look around and read as much as you like."

At the time, he knew one thing for certain: his little bookshop would be safe because he'd opened

it in a small trendy tourist town. He might not get the foot traffic the large corporate bookshops had during

the week. But on weekends thousands of people traveled to New York's Hudson River Valley for day trips,

weekend excursions, and holidays and he knew he'd get that weekend foot traffic just by opening his front

door.

He also had a partner, Davis Fisher, who worked as vice-president for a large pharmaceutical

company and Davis brought home six figures a year. They'd met the summer Lance had graduated from

college with a degree in English and a minor in art history. Though Lance had read all the classics, and he

could tell the difference between a Sandro Botticelli and Fra' Flippo Lippi at a glance, he didn't know much

about making a viable living. Davis was ten years old than Lance and at the time they'd met Davis was

ready to settle down and begin his life. When Davis suggested to Lance they open a small business together

instead of Lance looking for work with an English degree, Lance accepted the offer without even thinking

twice about it.

He'd always wanted to own a small bookshop and he'd fallen so deeply in love with Davis he

knew he wanted to build a life with him without a hint of reservation. He loved the way a book smelled and

felt in his hands as much as he loved the way Davis held him in his arms and kissed him. So Lance cashed

in the government bonds he'd inherited from his grandfather and Davis matched him with money from his

savings account. Best of all, the little bookshop provided Davis with the tax write-off for which he'd been

looking.

In other words, Lance discovered there's always a hidden story with small businesses that last

longer than five years, and very rarely does the story involve financial success. Neither of them ever

expected the bookshop to become a viable working business on which they could survive. Davis did not

quit his job in corporate America to live his dream of opening the clichéd small bookshop. Davis loved his

job so much he smiled when he told anyone what he did for a living. They didn't expect to make a lot of

money with the bookshop. They'd been realistic about the bookshop from the start when they'd decided

they would not take credits cards or debit cards. They only took cash and because Lance worked all of the

hours the only overhead they had to worry about was the commercial space they rented in town which

included all utilities. When they took vacations, they put up a sign in the front window apologizing for the

inconvenience and wrote down the date they would reopen. They weren't just an indie bookshop, they were

as independent as any small business can get.

As the years passed, Lance watched more small businesses come and go around him than he cared

to recall. Middle aged women with divorce settlements would invest everything they had in high end linen

shops only to shutter and fold two years later and go back to nursing school. Men who had burned out in

corporate America by the time they were forty would cash in retirement plans to invest in gifts shops and

they would lose it all in less than a year sometimes. One poor soul took the inheritance his grandmother had

left him and invested it in an art gallery that only sold novelties from Noah's lost arc and he wound up

making a midnight move his second year in business because he couldn't pay the rent. They all had one

thing in common: they started out with vim and vigor and ended up leaving with bitter regrets. Lance had

stopped getting friendly with them. It was too painful to watch.

But the small bookshop provided a nice cash income for Lance and the tax benefits for Davis he

so desperately needed. As a couple, they fell into a comfortable routine and became active in local charities

and town functions. They adopted two pugs, drove BMW's, and bought a big old farm house at the edge of

town they renovated themselves. They went to Provincetown, MA in the summer, Fort Lauderdale, FL in

the winter, and took quick excursions to Palm Springs, CA to visit old friends every spring.

In many ways the irony of owning a unique indie bookshop often contradicted the clichéd lives

they led. But Lance always justified this by telling himself he was providing a service at the bookshop for

people they couldn't get anywhere else.

Then the big corporate bookshops started to shutter their doors one after the other and Lance didn't

fully understand why at first. He still saw his steady weekend tourist traffic in his little bookshop and he

hadn't made a single change in twenty years. His regulars kept returning and a few of his customers from as

far away as Baltimore made his bookshop a destination point.

But even though he hadn't lost any foot traffic, he couldn't understand why his sales had continued

to drop since 2010. The restaurants were thriving in town. The ice cream shops had lines a block long. And

yet Lance often found himself without the cash in his pockets he'd come to expect after a long holiday

weekend. He noticed customers even stopped asking him to order special books they couldn't find

anywhere else.

In 2012 he heard something that made him stand back and press his palm to his stomach. He'd just

opened the front doors on Friday of Labor Day weekend and two women who looked like part of the bed

and breakfast crowd entered while he was opening a thermos of gourmet coffee he had prepared at home

because he couldn't find better coffee anywhere in town.

The one woman picked up a book and said to the other, "I've been dying to read this. I heard a

discussion about it on NPR."

At first, Lance smiled. He'd found this experimental novel through an article he'd read in The Paris

Review and he'd ordered several dozen copies hoping other people would want to read it. He'd carefully

set up a display in the middle of his shop, stacking and angling the books a certain way to attract attention,

hoping people would notice it and stop to check it out.

But he stopped smiling when the other woman looked at the price of the book and said, "Twenty-

nine ninety-nine? That's highway robbery. I read it. I loved it. I bought it in digital for half that price and I

have it on my e-reader. I'll let you borrow my e-reader. Save yourself some money and buy a new blouse. I

only read on my iPhone now."

The woman who had been thinking of purchasing the book frowned and said, "I'm not sure about

e-readers and e-books. It sounds so complicated, and I like the smell of a book."

Lance smiled again. The smell of a book had always reminded him of the tweedy smell in the

public library he'd gone to as a child. He'd been hearing about e-books and he'd never thought they would

actually be taken seriously.

But the other woman laughed and said, "A book smells like dust. Trust me, once you start reading

e-books you'll never go back. And if I can figure it out, anyone can. I'm a tech idiot. I not only save money

now by reading e-books, I also get to take my library wherever I go. I have the e-reader in my suitcase back

at the Inn. You can start reading tonight."

The woman put the print book down and shrugged. "If you say so I guess I'm willing to try e-

books, but I can't promise anything." Then she looped her arm through her friend's and turned to leave for

the dress shop next door.

Lance took his coffee and moved behind a tall bookcase near the front desk. He didn't want them

to know he'd overheard them talking. For the first time in twenty years he felt a sharp pain in his stomach

when he thought about what e-books might do to his wonderful little bookshop. It was more about his

lifestyle and the daily routine he'd grown to love now than it was about selling books.

When he went home that night he talked about all this with Davis over dinner. "I don't know what

I'm going to do. That's why all the big bookstores are going out of business. These people are all reading

fucking e-books now."

Davis smiled and smoothed out the black linen napkin across his lap. "I think you're over-reacting

a little. It's not like everyone is going to stop reading print books all at once. Calm down."

Lance shook his head. His stomach had been twisted since he'd heard the two women talking

earlier that morning. "I don't think so. I have to come up with something else to put in the store with the

books or we're going under. Trust me on this, I have a bad feeling." He didn't mention this in detail to

Davis, but he'd asked a few more customers how they felt about e-books and two of them pulled out

iPhones, opened their digital libraries, and showed him the latest e-book they were reading. One woman he

asked, an older woman in her late seventies, made his jaw drop when she told him she only read e-books

because she could adjust the size of the print to suit her bad eyes. Then he pulled his own iPhone out of his

briefcase, downloaded a free app where he could buy e-books, and checked one out for himself. This made

him feel even worse. He thought he would hate reading on his phone. But when he found how simple and

comfortable it was he gulped and put his phone back in his briefcase.

Davis reached for more wine and said, "If you think you need to put something else in the store,

it's fine with me. It's your call."

Then Davis drank his wine, dismissed the topic altogether, and left Lance wanting to throw the

wine bottle across the room. Lance wanted someone to tell him what to do and to make everything all right

again. But Davis did what he always did: he smiled and left it all up to Lance to figure out.

Although Lance didn't mention how he felt about this to Davis, he brought his feelings to bed with

him that night. They hadn't slept together in almost a week. Davis's job required a great deal of travel and it

often felt as if their lives revolved around his business trips. That week he'd traveled to France for a trade

show he usually attended the same time each year. In the twenty years they'd been together Lance had

learned to depend on Davis's business trips to tell what time of year it was. In March, Davis went to

something in San Francisco. In June it was Frankfurt. There were others, too, and in between all this he

took regular domestic trips to cities like Boston, Atlanta, and Chicago. There were times when Lance

wondered what it would be like to have that kind of freedom. He hadn't been out of Hudson River Valley or

his little shop alone since they'd met.

After Lance fluffed up the dog bed and got the pugs settled for the night, he glanced at the king

sized bed where Davis was sprawled out naked and he sighed. They always had sex after Davis had been

away for more than three days and that night he didn't feel like doing anything but crawling into bed and

watching TV. But he noticed that Davis was naked on top of the covers and he was holding the remote in

one hand and his dick in the other. Though ten years older, Davis still had the firm lean body and tight

muscles he'd had in his thirties and forties thanks to years of working out in hotel gyms while he traveled.

In many ways, Davis had grown even sexier now that he had a few strands of white around his temples.

There had been a time when Lance would have taken one look at his partner sprawled out naked

on the bed and he would have ripped off his clothes and jumped into bed with him. But that night he

walked over to a wing chair near the fireplace, removed his clothes slowly, and climbed into bed in his

underwear.

As he pulled the covers up to his chin, Davis sent him a glance and said, "Why don't you sit on my

lap for a little while." Then he tapped his thighs and stretched his legs to the end of the bed.

Lance forced a smile and glanced down at the erection that had formed between Davis's legs.

Davis held the bottom half and there had to be about four inches protruding through his fist. "Aren't you

tired?" he asked, looking closer at Davis's groin.

Davis stroked and said, "I'm wide awake. Sit on my lap."

Although he wasn't really in the mood that night, he'd always found Davis's naughty moods both

harmless and adorable. So he pulled back the covers, pulled off his underwear, and leaned over to get a

better look at the way Davis had shaved his pubic hairs. He ran his finger across the little line of dark black

hair and said, "You didn't leave much at all this time. You're practically bald." Lance had mentioned to

Davis many times he preferred a little public hair to none at all. He liked men who were more natural,

smelled a little rougher, and spent less time primping.

"It makes me feel younger," Davis said. "I found a few gray hairs down there." He pointed to his

crotch and laughed.

Lance pushed Davis's hand away from the erection and he took it in his right hand. He kissed the

tip and said, "I think it's sexy." He licked Davis's smooth balls and said, "This is nice, but I like your fuzzy

balls, too." He knew how much Davis liked it when he talked this way, especially when he softened his

voice and made it sound a little effeminate.

Davis spread his legs wider and said, "You should talk. You bleach yours."

"I like to feel blond all over," Lance said, in an even lighter tone. "I thought you liked it." He'd

started having his hair bleached in his mid-thirties. He had naturally light brown hair and the thin strands of

blond brightened it and made him feel younger. He didn't get his pubic hair bleached at a salon, though. He

went to a beauty supply store, bought bleach and peroxide there, and touched up his own pubic hair about

once every two months.

Davis bucked his pelvis forward and Lance licked the head of his erection again, this time he

licked longer and with his tongue extended for the purpose of exaggeration.

When he finished, Davis sat up a little and leaned over to pat his ass. "I think everything about you

is hot. Now get up here and sit on my lap like a good boy."

After so many years together living as a couple, they'd both reached that point where they'd come

to expect certain things during sex. That night Lance sucked Davis's dick for a few more minutes. He'd

always liked how it tasted and even when he wasn't in the mood the moment he started sucking he usually

found it difficult to stop. The familiarity of sucking the same dick all these years came with benefits Lance

had always loved most about being in a long-term monogamous relationship. He knew how to touch Davis

in certain ways in order to stimulate him and work him to the edge. He stroked the bottom half gently, often

caressing it with his fingertips, and at the same time he sucked the top half even more gently. At times, his

full lips barely grazed the head, which always seemed to stimulate Davis to the point where his entire body

would shudder. Each time he ran his fingers down to Davis's balls and scratched them lightly Davis would

let out a moan and wiggle his toes in the most delightful way.

Of the two men, Lance had always been the more submissive in bed, and more emotional. Davis

seemed to view sex more as a physical need, where Lance thought of sex as less physical and far more

emotional. Davis took what he could without thinking first. Lance found most of his pleasure in knowing

he could always bring Davis to the point of moaning or shuddering. It had taken him years to perfect his

gentle techniques with Davis and he rarely made an unplanned move in bed. While he was sucking the head

of Davis's dick, he thought about his next move, which could be anything from licking the shaft to rolling

Davis's balls around in his mouth. He never knew exactly what he would do until a moment or two before

he did it. But he rarely left anything unplanned.

When he stopped sucking that night, he slowly rose to his knees in what anyone watching might

have described as feline moves. As he moved forward, he kissed Davis's abdomen and licked his rib cage.

Davis reached for a tube of lubricant they always kept on the nightstand and Lance lifted his left leg over

Davis's waistline. Like any married monogamous straight couple they had no need for condoms and their

intercourse was always raw.

While he waited for Davis to open the tube of lubricant, Lance pressed his palms to Davis's chest,

arched his back, and lowered his bottom until the shaft met the most private part of his bottom. Lance

started grinding his pelvis; he tossed his head back and closed his eyes. A moment after that, he lifted his

bottom so Davis could spread clear grease all over his dick. Davis then spread the remaining grease on his

fingers around the lips of Lance's anus. They'd done this so many times in the past neither one of them

needed to speak. Lance knew Davis would insert a finger or two for a moment, and he knew the moment

Davis did this his body would begin the same pattern that would eventually lead him to climax. He slowly

backed into Davis's hand and sighed. In many ways having Davis's fingers in his body could be just as

satisfying as having his dick inside.

Then Davis pulled his fingers out and he patted Lance's bottom with three firm taps. As Davis

grabbed his dick and guided it to Lance's opening, Lance spread his legs wider and backed into it slowly. In

the beginning of their relationship there had been pain so sharp Lance often wound up biting his fist. He

swore his heart stopped sometimes it was so brutal. But at this point he knew how to take Davis all the way

in without even a flinch.

As he lowered his bottom and the thick, greasy erection slid in deeper, Davis removed his hand

and Lance did the rest on his own. Lance sat all the way down on him, righted his upper body, and started

running his hands up and down his own torso. He always kept his eyes closed at this point. He grabbed his

own chest muscles and squeezed them harder. Having Davis inside him brought him to another emotional

place that was hard to put into words. It was a place where he could forget about everything that had been

bothering him, a place that filled him both emotionally and physically, and a place that made him feel

connected to Davis the way nothing else could.

Their love-making didn't take long and it wasn't filled with the kind of foreplay they'd had when

they'd first met. This was more familiar and structured and Lance knew when to start moving faster and

riding Davis to the finish. When the bed started to move, Lance bounced up and down on Davis faster.

When the sound of Lance's ass hitting Davis's pelvis turned into smacks, the bed moved and the headboard

tapped against the wall. And when the headboard tapped against the wall, Lance grabbed his own dick and

waited for Davis to respond.

It was always the same. Davis grabbed Lance's hips and squeezed hard. Then his upper body

moved forward, his face twisted sideways, and his head started to jerk with quick, short spasms. The instant

Davis's face turned red and he started to repeat the word "fuck" in a soft whisper, Lance knew Davis had

climaxed and Lance started stroking his own dick. Davis's body went back and his head rested on the

pillow. Lance sat down hard on his dick and came seconds later. As he expunged his load onto Davis's

torso, he felt the climax all over his body, from the deepest part where Davis's dick rested to the top of his

head. Lance didn't speak a word, or let out as much as a grunt. He sighed softly, held his breath for a

moment, and exhaled as the orgasm left his body.

When Lance opened his eyes, he leaned forward and kissed Davis on the mouth. When he

removed his tongue, he smiled and said, "I love you."

"I love you, too," Davis said, as he tapped him three more times on the ass.

Then Lance slowly climbed off his dick, off the bed, and went into the bathroom to clean up.

When they'd stopped using condoms back in the early days of their relationship this had been something

Lance had to get used to doing, especially since he knew for certain he would always be on the receiving

end when they made love. At first, he found it annoying and he hated the thought of what he had to do after

sex. But then he reached a point where washing Davis off became as arousing as the sex itself had been. He

never mentioned this to Davis because he knew Davis wouldn't understand. But it was that emotional

stimulation of having the man he loved so much make a mess of him this way that created all these erotic

feelings. It was such a simple thing; yet it took on more meaning as the years passed. He knew he would

sleep well that night. He often felt Davis inside him long after they finished having sex. And with all he had

on his mind with the bookshop, he needed a good night's sleep as much as he'd needed Davis to fuck him.

Chapter Four

Each year after Labor Day weekend, Davis's traveling schedule always grew more demanding

until Christmastime. It was mostly domestic travel and only on weekdays, but it often wore on Lance the

longer he did this. It had always been Lance's dream…fantasy…to make the bookshop successful enough

so Davis could retire from his corporate job early and they could run the business together. On cold lonely

nights when he went home to a big old farmhouse to his two loving pugs, he often daydreamed about what

it would be like when Davis didn't have to travel anymore. They could get up later and go to work together.

Davis could handle all of the more technical aspects of the business and Lance could do the more creative

work and deal with his customers in more attentive way than he could on his own. They could eat dinner

together every night of the week instead of Davis eating alone in a hotel room and Lance sometimes

skipping dinner altogether. After that, they would go to bed and make love in positions they rarely ever

tried now.

But in order for this dream to come true, Lance knew he had to make a few serious changes that

fall. He started by reading all the articles he could find about bookshops, e-books, and how the markets

where changing. Most of the time he wound up disillusioned with what he read because things didn't look

hopeful for small bookshops. But he finally came across one small article where a small bookshop like his

seemed to be thriving in Washington, D.C. because the owners knew how to be creative in times that

seemed to be changing on a daily basis.

After he read this article, he decided to start by introducing gourmet coffee into the shop, and a

line new line of technical devices for the purpose of reading digital books. He avoided those pesky small

town zoning laws by offering the brewed coffee for free and only selling the gourmet coffee beans in pre-

packed bags. He didn't want to turn the place into a coffee shop or an eatery. He wanted to keep it a

bookshop most of all. The mark up on the pre-packaged coffee beans would cover the loss of the freshly

brewed free coffee. He also added a few comfortable leather sofas, some interesting club chairs, a French

industrial distressed coffee table, and a long harvest table like the one he remembered from the public

library of his childhood.

Through all this, Davis continued traveling and Lance updated him each weekend about

something new he'd done to the bookshop. On Saturdays, Davis would stop into the bookshop on his way

to the gym and rave about the changes Lance had made. Davis had to be subtle because there were always

so many people in the shop browsing, sipping coffee, or having a discussion about books at the harvest

table. He would call Lance over to the counter, set his palm on the small of Lance's back, and nod in

approval. When no one was looking, he would grab Lance's ass, kiss him, and say, "You're doing a great

job, baby."

The hardest part about all the changes Lance made was dealing with the technical e-reading

devices he'd introduced. It wasn't just enough to install a wireless connection so people could use their

tablets and laptops in the shop. On weekdays when the shop was normally slow, he would study as much as

he could about uploading, DRM, and the various formats in which e-books could be purchased. Most of the

information he found on the Internet was free. He wasn't selling e-books yet, and he wasn't certain he ever

would. He was only selling e-reading devices, and he had a long way to go in that department. But he found

an interesting dichotomy: some of his customers were genuinely curious in e-books and some claimed they

would rather die than give up print books. He also found a market in used e-reading devices. People who

had already started reading e-books always seemed to be upgrading to a new tablet or device and they

wanted to know if he would be willing to sell the old e-reading device they weren't using anymore. At first,

he wasn't sure about this and everything he did he considered experimental. But after he thought about it

for a while he figured if he sold used devices on consignment it wouldn't cost him a dime, people would

pay less for a good product, and everyone wound up happy.

By November of that same year, sales increased, coffee bean sales remained solid, and he had cash

in his pockets again. In tourist towns like his he'd come to expect certain things about his business. One of

which was never to depend on locals for anything. Townies avoided the shops on Main Street where he

lived. Most would do anything to avoid going down Main Street. But something interesting happened. The

woman who ran the beauty shop on the other end of town started coming in before work so she could get a

cup of coffee and a small bag of coffee beans. The guy who owned the art gallery across the street started

coming in during the week and he wound up buying a used e-reading device. People from the local gym

would stop in and Lance started selling pre-packed foods from the small gourmet shop down the street.

They worked out a deal where he sold everything on consignment and due to a strange law in his town it

was legal for people to eat these things in his shop. He was safe as long as he didn't prepare anything there.

Everything went so well Lance couldn't wait to get up in the morning and go to work. For a while,

the only small thing about work that frustrated him was the UPS truck that sped up and down the street and

terrorized everyone else in town. By three in the afternoon his feet ached and he didn't mind the thought of

going back to the empty house. He'd talked all day to customers and it was a nice, easy thought to look

toward home again

at the end of each day so he could sit in silence for a change. Though he missed Davis

as much as usual, he found himself enjoying the peace and quiet for the first time since they'd been

together.

It all would have been perfect if Davis hadn't dropped a huge unexpected bombshell on him the

Sunday before Thanksgiving weekend. They were in the den watching the ten o'clock news and Lance had

mentioned something important to him. "I'm thinking about hiring someone to help out at the shop part

time. I think I should start staying open until nine at night. I know it might change our lives a little, but I

think that now with so many local people coming in it's going to be good for business."

Davis sent him a smile and said, "I think that's a good idea."

This wasn't the reaction Lance had expected. Davis had never really taken the bookshop seriously.

In fact, he sometimes thought of it as a nuisance on weekends when he would rather have taken weekend

getaways. The reason Lance had waited so long to mention anything about extending hours was because he

wanted to do it when Davis was in a mellower mood. "Excellent," Lance said. "I'm also thinking of starting

to add a line of gift items. I've been researching suppliers that sell everything from unusual stationary to

greeting cards. I think if I'm careful and I keep the look of the shop just the right way, I can still focus on

selling mostly books and everything else will just be something to draw people in. I hate doing this, but I

don't see any other choice." He'd come to the conclusion there would be people who would always read

print books in his lifetime. But many were switching to digital books and he wanted to remain relevant for

as long as he could. And if books stopped selling, at least he would still be able to keep the shop running in

another capacity.

"I think it sounds wonderful," Davis said. He continued to stare at the TV, as if avoiding direct eye

contact.

"You do?" Lance asked. "I wasn't sure you'd like the idea."

"I'm glad you're busy and the shop is doing well," Davis said.

"It might cut into a lot of the free time we have, though," Lance said.

"It won't change things that much," Davis said. "And if you hire people part time that should make

a huge difference."

Lance sent him a sideways glance and said, "What are you up to? Normally you wouldn't be too

thrilled about doing all this."

Davis smiled and said, "I'm just agreeing with you."

"C'mon," Lance said. "What's up?"

Davis finally turned and looked at him. "You're not going to like this."

"Just tell me," Lance said.

"I'm leaving for Hong Kong tomorrow morning and I'll be there for three weeks."

Lance hesitated for a moment. Two weeks was the longest he'd ever been away on business. At

first, it didn't register. But when he realized Thursday was Thanksgiving, he sat up and squared his back

and said, "Three weeks. What about Thanksgiving? We're having twenty people this year." They'd been

hosting a family Thanksgiving for the past six years. Davis's parents were coming from New Jersey, and

Lance's parents from Connecticut. There were also brothers, sisters, and in-laws from both sides coming. In

previous years they'd had as many as forty for Thanksgiving dinner and that year was much less. But Lance

had never done it all alone.

Davis sent him a sheepish grin and shrugged. "I can't help it. I was basically told I have to go.

We're expanding in Asia and they want me there. I don't have a choice."

Lance knew he couldn't argue points like this and complain about Davis's job. His job had been

what kept them able to afford a big farm house, two luxury cars, and the lifestyle they led. Even though the

bookshop was doing better, it never would have supported their current lifestyle. "That really sucks," Lance

said, slumping back in his chair.

"You could cancel Thanksgiving this year," Davis said.

"I can't do that at this late notice," Lance said. Leave it to Davis to suggest something so

unemotional, not to mention tacky. "People are expecting to come here. We don't see family much and I

know they're looking forward to it."

Davis stood up. As he headed toward the hallway, he kissed the top of Lance's head and said, "I'm

sorry. Work has to come first this time."

About an hour later, Lance found Davis in bed with the lights out. Although Lance was still angry

about him mentioning this three week trip to Asia without warning, he didn't want Davis to leave the next

morning with friction between them. So he took off his clothes, climbed under the covers, and wrapped his

arms and legs around Davis's body.

Without moving, Davis said, "I thought you were mad at me. I didn't think I would get any

tonight."

Lance moved one hand down and he grabbed Davis's dick. With the other he caressed his bicep

and said, "I'm pissed and you really don't deserve to get any, as you so delicately put it. But I understand."

He felt Davis growing hard in his palm, so he squeezed him and said, "On my stomach."

Davis knew what Lance wanted without having to ask. Davis kicked off the covers, grabbed the

lube on the nightstand, and turned Lance over on his stomach with force. While Lance spread his legs,

Davis lubed his cock, shoved a pillow beneath Lance's stomach, and mounted him with a plunge so abrupt

Lance's feet went up in the air. Then he fucked Lance until the headboard knocked into the wall behind the

bed again. It was late and Davis had to get up early to pack for his trip to Hong Kong in the morning.

Although this kind of fast sex wasn't unusual for them, something about it didn't feel right to Lance this

time. It was nice having Davis inside him. He wanted to do this because Davis would be away for so long

this time. But he couldn't really get into it the way he normally did.

After Davis came, he pulled out, turned Lance over, pushed his legs open, and entered him again.

He was still hard and he wanted Lance to come now. But when he glanced down and noticed that Lance

didn't have an erection, he tilted his head and asked, "What's wrong?"

Lance didn't want to go into a deep, long discussion. He smiled and said, "I'm just tired I guess.

Nothing's wrong."

"Are you sure?" Davis asked.

Lance nodded. "I'm okay, really. I'm just tired and I want to go clean up now."

"But you didn't come," Davis said.

"I don't have to come all the time. You know that." This had happened before, always when Lance

was upset with Davis about something. Unlike Davis, if Lance wasn't into making love emotionally he

couldn't perform the physical act. And at times he just didn't feel like coming.

"Are you sure you're not still mad about Thanksgiving?" Davis asked.

Lance wanted to squeeze his balls hard, but he faked a smile and said, "I'm sure."

Davis kissed him and pulled out slowly. Lance climbed out of bed, crossed to the bathroom, and

didn't look back once. He pulled a washcloth from the linen closet and turned the hot water on in the

bathroom sink. Now more than ever he wanted to make the shop a success. He'd been growing tired of

Davis's work travel and this trip to Hong Kong seemed to bring him to the edge of distraction.

When he finished, he turned out the bathroom light, crossed back to the bed, and he felt a sting in

his gut at the thought of entertaining all those people alone for Thanksgiving. Had he known Davis would

be away he never would have offered to host Thanksgiving that year. And when he climbed into bed and

pulled up the covers, he felt something more like a pain in his gut when he realized how long he would be

alone this time. And this had nothing to do with Thanksgiving. This was also the longest he would be

without a man in his entire life.

Chapter Five

It hadn't always been easy to remain faithful to Davis all those years. When Davis traveled for two

or three days that didn't matter, but when he travelled for a full week Lance often craved both the physical

and emotional attention of a man. This meant that porn and sex toys didn't do it for him. He needed to be

held by a man, which had less to do with sexual gratification than it did emotional need. Although he'd

become less needy as he'd grown older, he still often felt as if he wanted to knock Davis down in the front

hall each time he returned from a business trip and fall on top of him.

They'd talked about an open relationship but they'd never drawn any set standards or rules, which

meant that in technical terms they were supposed to remain monogamous. Although Lance trusted Davis,

he would sometimes tell Davis that if he ever did cheat on him while he was on the road he didn't want to

know about it. Davis was a strong, attractive man who had obvious physical needs. Younger men were

always attracted to him. Lance tended to be pragmatic about these things; he knew when people were on

the road, so to speak, they sometimes lost their moral compass. He also knew some younger men had no

moral compass and tended to be sluts for pure sport. Lance emphasized that he wanted Davis to keep any

minor indiscretion he might have purely physical, without a hint of emotional involvement. In other words,

Lance was realistic about the fact that anything could happen when Davis was on the road, and if

something did happen Davis better keep it simple: nothing more than a quick trick or a one night stand. But

more than that, he'd better keep it safe and disease free.

Of course Davis would always laugh Lance's comments on this topic off and he would enforce the

fact that he had no desire to take another lover whether he was on the road or in their home town on

weekends. Then he would pull Lance closer, put his arms around him, and tell him how much he loved

him. Sometimes, if the timing was right, he even showed Lance how much he loved him by making love to

him. For the most part, this was enough to keep Lance sleeping well at night.

But the Asian deal started to throw their lives off in ways neither one of them could have

portended. Lance trailed through Thanksgiving alone that year without any serious issues. All their family

members understood how hard Davis worked and they did Thanksgiving dinner as if they didn't even miss

him all that much. At one point, while Davis's dad was carving the Thanksgiving turkey and Lance's mom

was talking about her latest senior citizen cruise, Lance sat back listening to them all and he started missing

Lance more than ever. In the middle of the meal he even excused himself and went into the powder room to

call Davis just to hear his voice. He got Davis's voice mail and left a message instead.

The difference between Davis traveling for business a few days a week and taking off for three

weeks or more at a time turned out to be something Lance hadn't expected. He thought he was used to it all

by then. They'd been together for twenty years and Davis had been traveling all that time. But when Davis

returned from Asia after Thanksgiving that year and he informed Lance he would be making more frequent

trips to Asia that year, and those trips would be even longer than three weeks at a time, Lance sent him a

glance and refused to speak to him for the rest of the evening.

At least Davis was home for Christmas that year, because it would have killed Lance if he'd been

away. But he wound up leaving for Asia again before New Year's Eve, and he would be gone for six weeks

this time instead of three. Lance spent New Year's Eve sitting in front of the fireplace with the pugs all

alone that year. He could have gone to several small parties friends in town were having but it just didn't

feel right without Davis.

It's not that he minded being home on New Year's Eve. There had been previous New Year's Eve's

when Davis and Lance had remained home to share a quiet dinner and watch the ball drop in Times Square

on TV. What irked him the most about New Year's Eve was the fact that Davis seemed to enjoy traveling

to Asia so much. When they spoke on the telephone Davis's voice went up with a lilt when telling stories

about his experiences there. The time he'd been home between the first trip to Hong Kong and the time he'd

left after Christmas had been interesting, too. Davis couldn't stop talking about how exciting his job was

now and how much he looked forward to going to work each morning. He smiled more than he had in

years. He even looked better and seemed to have more energy.

When Davis returned from Hong Kong the second time, Lance took a deep breath and fell into his

arms the first night. Lance hadn't had a man in over six weeks and he'd been losing weight out of sheer

frustration. He'd started doing three extra miles on the treadmill at the gym to work off the sexual tension.

He worked with more weights than usual to push the frustrating lonely nights out of his mind. The end

result from all this made him look younger and better than he'd looked in years. However, the frustration

and loneliness returned each time and often with more intensity than the time before that. So the night

Davis returned from the second six week trip, Lance met him at the front door in nothing but a bathrobe

and he informed Davis they would have a late dinner after they made a trip to the bedroom first.

That night, he fell asleep in Davis's arms and remained in the same position until the sun woke

him the next morning. A few minutes later, he woke Davis with a blow job and an exercise in tea-bagging

that left his lips swollen for the rest of the morning. He felt normal again; he whistled in the shower and

planned his day at the bookshop. He wore the first thing he pulled out of his closet because clothes meant

nothing to him now that Davis was home and his life was back to normal.

When he went down to the kitchen he found Davis in his boxer shorts sipping coffee and staring

out the kitchen window. It had snowed all week and the white glare from outside seemed to make

everything in the kitchen duller and more beige. He made a mental note to touch up the white trim around

the kitchen windows that week and crossed to the counter to make himself a cup of coffee. As he filled the

mug he thought about where they would go out to dinner that night when he returned from the shop. It was

Saturday and they hadn't been out to a restaurant in so long on a Saturday night he couldn't even remember

the last time.

He was thinking about the little Italian place not far from his bookshop. He popped a little plastic

packet of coffee into the machine and pushed the button. When he turned to look at Davis he smiled at the

way he was still gazing out the window and said, "It's really beautiful out, isn't it?"

Davis smiled but he didn't turn to face him. "It's fantastic. I wish I had more time to enjoy it."

His comment didn't register at first. Lance thought he was talking in generalities. But when the

coffee was finished brewing and he reached for his mug, he made a face, turned around to face Davis again,

and asked, "What are you talking about?"

This time Davis turned and sent him a huge smile. The kind of insincere smile Davis always used

when he had something to tell Lance he knew Lance wouldn't like. "I was going to wait until later, but I

know how much you're going to hate this and I think I should get it over with fast."

Lance felt a pull in his stomach. He sat down at the table and rolled his eyes. "Just tell me," he

said. He had a feeling he knew where this was going.

"I have to return to Hong Kong this week," he said. "I can't avoid it. In fact, I shouldn't have even

left but I wanted to come home and explain it all to you in person. I'm working on a deal right now that

could change the entire company's future. It could change our future, too. If I can manage to pull this off I'll

get a promotion, a huge bonus, and I'll be making more money than I ever dreamed I would."

When he put it that way, in such unselfish terms, Lance knew he couldn't argue the point. "How

long will you be gone this time?"

Davis shrugged and said, "About two months."

"Two months?"

"I know it's a long time but it's not going to be forever," Davis said. He walked over to the table

and put his hand on Lance's shoulder. "Trust me, we'll both get through this and everything will be back to

normal by this time next year."

All at once, Lance felt his face grow warm. His pulse started to race and he felt a rush of emotions

pass through him he couldn't contain. He took a deep breath and exhaled. Then he hesitated long enough to

keep his voice calm and even. "What's normal, Davis?" he asked. "Seriously. When this Asian deal is

finished you'll come home and you'll go back to traveling all week and I'll still be home alone every night."

"You never minded before," Davis said. He spoke with a low voice, but also with a hint of

surprise.

Lance stood up and walked to the sink. He poured the rest of his coffee into the sink, put the mug

in the dishwasher, and said, "I never told you I minded. And it's not like we haven't talked about this. I

always thought the ultimate goal was for you to retire early and stop traveling. That's why I've been

working so hard to make the business more profitable. And things are really good there. I know it's nothing

compared to what you make. But if things keep moving the way they are we can be very comfortable with

your investments and the income from the shop. We can scale back. I don't mind living in a smaller place.

We would only need one car."

Davis frowned and scratched the back of his head. "I do want to do that someday. But not right

now. It's not about money and you know that. I'm just not ready. I love what I do. I love everything about

what I do and I've worked hard to get where I am. I'm thrilled the shop is doing well. You know how much

I support you with that. I couldn't be happier for you. Can't you be happy for me, too?"

Lance started to feel a little guilty now. He hadn't seen him in a long time, and he didn't want to

argue with him. He grabbed his coat from a hook near the back door and then crossed back to where Davis

was standing. He reached for his hand and said, "I am happy for you. But I miss you so much I can't stand

it. I just want to be normal sometimes. We've been together for twenty years and in all that time we have

never spent one full month without you traveling somewhere. At first I used to worry all the time. After

what happened on 9/11 with the World Trade Center attacks I felt nothing but panic for a year each time

you left for the airport. Now I've reached a point where I just feel numb and it doesn't even bother me

anymore."

Davis put his arms around him and held him tightly. "I promise this isn't going to last for more

than a year. And once I secure this deal everything will go back to normal and we'll be just like we always

were. I promise."

Lance pressed his face to Davis's chest and he took a deep breath to inhale his scent. He didn't

mention this to Davis, but there had been nights in the past month when he'd gone to sleep wearing one of

Davis's shirts just so he could take in his scent. It made him feel less lonely and helped him sleep through

the night. Since the trips to Hong Kong, Lance had begun waking up in the middle of the night with his

heart racing, beads of perspiration pouring down his face, and a sense of panic for no apparent logical

reason. He knew they were night terrors; he'd read about them. He just didn't know why he was having

them or how to stop them.

Davis kissed Lance and said, "I have an idea." He patted Lance on the bottom, jerked away from

him, and headed to the back staircase at the end of the kitchen. "Don't go yet. I'll get dressed fast and I'll

drive you to work today. I haven't seen the shop in a while and I want to see what you've been up to. Then

I'll pick you up later tonight and we'll go out to dinner."

Lance knew what Davis was doing: he was placating him and changing the subject. Davis smiled

more than usual, his gestures grew more animated, and he spoke with that fake cheerful voice he always

used when he did this. So Lance shrugged and said, "I'll go out and start the car to get it warm. I'll take the

dogs out before I go, too."

Davis reached for the banister and said, "I'll only be a minute."

*****

For the short time Davis was home, they almost went back to normal. Lance opened the shop each

morning, the infernal UPS truck sped down the street two and three times a day, and the woman from the

beauty shop bought breakfast blend coffee beans on Tuesday. They didn't argue about Davis traveling and

the topic didn't even come up again. One thing that turned out to be different happened while they made

love each night. They normally didn't make love every night of the week. They hadn't made love every

night of the week since the first five years they'd been together. After twenty years their love-making had

become more of a two or three times a week affair, which Lance always thought was normal for them. It

felt as if Davis was over-compensating in the sex department and Lance would have felt guilty turning him

down. Each time they made love that week Lance went through the physical stages but couldn't help feeling

something missing on an emotional level. Afterward, Davis would fall asleep with a satisfied expression

and Lance would remain wide awake for a while thinking about his life, his circumstances, and the fact that

time seem to be passing so quickly. He was facing another birthday that spring…forty years old…which

didn't thrill him one bit. One night that week he didn't sleep at all when he realized he probably had more

years behind him than he had ahead of him.

He realized he'd reached middle age: the dead center of his life. This realization sent a surge of

panic through his entire body and he wasn't sure whether to pull the covers up over his head and never get

out of bed or run out to the nearest car dealership and buy himself a sexy red convertible.

He opted for a new hair color. After Davis left for the next trip to Hong Kong, Lance went to his

regular salon and had his stylist give him more shades of blond to make him look brighter and feel younger.

That same week, he started making appointments for the tanning bed at the gym, which was something he

never would have done in the past. He took one full day off, drove into Manhattan, and bought a whole new

wardrobe of clothes in trendy shops downtown that made him feel younger and more attractive. He wound

up spending so much time at the bookshop he started taking the dogs to work with him. He kept them up

near the front desk and gated both ends off so they wouldn't roam around on the loose. He'd been taking

them to work off and on for years and they were as familiar with the shop as they were at home. He was

also worried about the older dog, Watson. He was pushing fifteen years old and he'd been coughing all the

time for no apparent reason.

The coughing grew worse and one afternoon the poor thing tipped sideways, fell over, and his

entire body went dead still. For a moment, Lance pressed both hands to his mouth and stood there watching

with wide eyes. Watson finally got up again, but Lance made an appointment with the vet to see what was

wrong. After several basic tests the vet diagnosed Watson with congestive heart failure, gave Lance

medicine, and basically told Lance that Watson was at the end of his life and there was nothing else he

could do but hope for the best and make him as comfortable as possible. By the time Lance got home from

the vet his eyes were red and his face was puffy from crying the entire way. He held Watson in his arms as

he dialed Davis in Hong Kong to tell him the news.

At first, Davis thought someone in the family had died. "Stop crying and pull yourself together,"

he said. "What's wrong? I can't understand a word you're saying."

Lance stiffened his upper lip and sat down at the kitchen table, with the dog still in his arms. Then

he told Lance what had happened at the vet's office and ended by saying, "I'm just in shock. I never saw it

coming."

"Well he is going to be fifteen," Davis said, in a calm even tone, as if Lance should have expected

this. "And the vet did say there wouldn't be any pain at all. He's had a good long life."

Leave it to Davis to take the calm logical approach. The man had no emotion at all. He'd been

crafted from a slab of granite, not flesh. He didn't sound concerned at all. Lance was about to lose one of

the best friends he'd ever had…a dog he'd often thought of as his adopted child…and all Davis could do

was give him rational facts. "He's going to die," Lance said, trying not to cry again. "We're losing him.

Don't you understand that? We're losing a family member."

"Of course I understand," Davis said, with a patronizing tone that made Lance want to throw

something. "Now just calm down and don't get all freaked out. I've heard stories about these things where

dogs that are diagnosed with congestive heart failure live for years afterward. You can't predict these

things. How is he now?"

Lance sniffed back and glanced down at Watson. He patted the top of his head and said, "He

seems okay now. But he's been having these coughing spells and he falls over on his side and goes dead

still after them. It's so scary I don't know what to do."

The other little pug, Mavis, seemed jealous. She'd been rubbing up against Lance's leg because he

was holding Watson in his arms. Lance sent her a look and she backed off. He loved her just as much as he

loved Watson and he never treated them differently. But Watson had always been more his dog and Mavis

had always been more devoted to Davis. They'd even named her to rhyme with Davis…a mistake; their

friends joked about it all the time. There had never been a logical reason for this attraction each dog had

either. It just seemed to happen.

"How's my little Mavis?" Davis asked. "Is she okay?"

"She's fine," Lance said. Davis sounded as if he didn't even care about Watson. "She's only nine

and the vet said she's due for shots next month. I can't believe how fast that always seems to come around. I

asked them to double check. It seems like just last week I took her for shots, and it's been almost two

years." He started to ramble; he knew this but couldn't stop.

Davis said, "I have to go now. Are you feeling better?"

"I think so," Lance said. He looked down at Watson again and kissed his head. "He seems

perfectly normal to me. But I am going to put him on the meds, and I'll read up about all this online tonight.

Maybe there's a special diet or something to make him live longer."

"You sound better now," Davis said. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Lance said. He was still holding back tears. For some reason he couldn't explain

he felt as if he'd lost control of all his rational emotions. And the room felt like it was getting hotter and he

wanted to rip off his clothes and splash cold water all over his body.

"Don't worry," Davis said. "I promise you. He's a tough little guy and he's going to be just fine. He

might even outlive Mavis, trust me. I know about these things. That dog will live forever."

But Watson dropped dead that night. After he hung up with Davis, Lance fed both dogs, took them

out for a walk, and returned to the house feeling so much better he decided to draw a long hot bubble bath.

After his bath, he walked into the bedroom with a towel around his waist and found Mavis sitting on a

bench at the foot of the bed staring at him with her head tilted and an odd expression. He smiled at her and

walked to the closet. But when he reached for a robe and he realized Watson wasn't with her, he felt a lump

in his throat. For a moment, he stood still and stared at the wall.

Then he grabbed the robe and ran downstairs in his bare feet. He checked the living room and

dining room first and found no sign of Watson. He wasn't in the hallway, the den, or Davis's home office

right off the den. Mavis followed behind, as if cautious to make a move without him. When he stopped she

stopped. When he moved forward, so did she. He called out Watson's name a few times and nothing

happened. And by the time he reached the kitchen and gaped at the little pug's lifeless body near the water

bowls he already knew what had happened.

He picked Watson up off the floor and sat down at the kitchen table with Watson in his arms. He

remained there almost as lifeless as the dog and stared at the back door for the next hour without shedding a

single tear. Then he went back upstairs to put on sweats and sneakers. After that, he went down to the barn,

yanked a shovel from a hook, and walked through the dark cold night to dig a hole near the small rose

garden he'd planted the first year they'd moved there.

The weather was warm enough by then and the ground had thawed. He cried while he dug the

hole, he cried as he walked back to the house to wrap Watson in a black velvet square he'd been saving for

something special, and he cried so hard when he placed him in the deep hole he almost fell sideways. When

he started filling the hole in, he cried so hard he started choking and threw up everything he'd eaten that

day. He never dreamed he would be doing something like this all alone. He'd always thought Davis would

be around and they would do things like this together. And when he went back into the house and climbed

into bed with Mavis, he cried himself to sleep that night because he'd had to do all this alone.

In the morning, there were no more tears left to cry. He felt numb and empty and stronger in a way

he found hard to explain. He didn't phone Davis about what had happened. He made coffee, went for a

morning run, and he sent Davis an emotionless e-mail about what had happened to Watson. After that, he

showered for a long time and shaved his entire body until he was smooth all over except for one little patch

of bleached blond hair above his penis. He put on one of the new outfits he'd purchased in New York and

glanced at himself in the mirror sideways. He looked better than he had in years and he hadn't even realized

this until now. And if this is what his life would be like from now on he made a conscious choice to make

the best he could of it. The years he'd had with Watson had passed by so quickly he hadn't even had a

chance to blink. If the next fifteen years were going to pass that quickly, he would be an old gay man

watching younger gay men strut around on beaches sooner than he expected.

At least he still had Mavis. He found her waiting for him on the stool in the bedroom and she was

looking at him as if begging him to take her to the shop with him that morning. He scooped her up in his

arms and said, "It's just you and me, baby girl. And we're gonna make the best of this no matter what it

takes. He can spend the rest of his life in Hong Kong for all I care."

Chapter Six

When Davis finally phoned and asked for details about what had happened to Watson, Lance had

calmed down and he remained void of emotion. Davis apologized for not being there to go through this

with him, and even promised to figure out a way to make it up to him. Lance reassured him that wasn't

necessary and said he had plenty of things happening at the shop to keep him busy. And when they hung up

that night and Davis said, "I love you," Lance hesitated this time and only said, "Me, too."

Losing a pet so suddenly left him walking around in a fog. He had to figure out how to feed one

dog instead of two, how to walk one dog instead of two, and how to give one dog more attention because

she'd lost her best friend, too. After Watson died, Mavis clung to him as if her entire existence depended on

his every move. If he left the house for a moment to take out the trash she moaned and barked until he

returned. He wondered if she'd always been this needy and he'd missed it because Watson was around, or if

this was a new development and she missed Watson as much as he did. Davis had mentioned getting a

puppy, but Lance wasn't ready for that yet. He needed time to grieve for Watson and having a puppy

around would have made him feel even worse because of the guilt.

For the next week, he went to work, took care of business as usual, but felt as if he were going

through the motions. Then late on a Sunday afternoon when everyone he knew was home with their friends

and families, he went to the gym and something unusual happened. A local guy he'd seen around town for

years started talking to him while he was working out with free weights. He knew the guy's name was

Sergio, he knew the guy's family owned a pizza place in a small strip mall at the edge of town, and he knew

the guy had been married and divorced before he'd turned twenty-five. Lance had heard all this through

local gossip from the part time employee he'd hired to work weeknights at the bookstore. She'd dated

Sergio…along with half the men in town…and she seemed to know everything there was to know about

him. Although Lance wasn't much for gossip and small talk, he had to admit the stories his part time

employee told him about the locals could be entertaining at times. And many of her stories about Sergio

went into details that left Lance gaping in wonder.

When Sergio walked over to Lance that Sunday, Lance was on his back doing bench presses.

Sergio glanced down and said, "You're using weights that are too heavy, man. It's all wrong."

At first, Lance hadn't seen him approach. He'd been busy trying to balance the heavy weights. He

looked up and said, "Huh?" Sergio was standing over him, wearing loose basketball shorts. He looked up

and saw the jock strap right up through Sergio's pant leg.

Sergio reached over, grabbed the barbell, and took it out of Lance's hands. "I'm a trainer here,

bro," he said. "This is all wrong. A dude like you should be using lighter weights and doing more reps.

You'll build more tone and muscle that way without hurting yourself."

Lance sat up and shrugged. "I see." He watched Sergio remove the heavy weights from the barbell

and replace them with a lighter set.

Sergio lifted the barbell higher, walked behind Lance, and said, "Lay down again. I'll spot you and

show you how to do it the right way, man."

When Lance rested back again, he looked up and noticed Sergio's strong legs were directly behind

his head. From this angle, as Sergio stood over him, Lance could see the tight jock strap through both pant

legs. He didn't want to make this obvious, but he couldn't help looking longer than he should have. At a

glance, he'd always noticed Sergio's jock appeal. He had one of those bulked up stocky bodies, with huge

biceps, strong legs, a thick neck, and not an inch of body fat. He had his brown hair cut in an ultra-short

military way where it was closely shaved on the sides and back, and a little longer on top. From what Lance

had heard through idle gossip, Sergio had been the clichéd small town star football player in high school,

he'd screwed up his future by getting one of the cheerleaders pregnant on prom night, and gave up a

football scholarship to college in order to marry her and then divorce her. Instead of playing college

football he wound up working part time in the family pizza place and as a personal trainer at the local gym.

As Sergio stood over him, Lance grabbed the barbell and said, "Are you sure about this? It feels

kind of light to me." He'd always concentrated more on cardio and endurance machines at the gym to keep

his body lean and his ass firm. He'd only recently started working out with weights and he'd always thought

it should be painful and hard to manage.

Sergio laughed and said, "I know what I'm talking about, Dude. I know what you need." He spread

his legs wider and exposed more of his jock strap. "It's all about the reps, not the weights. Just trust me,

man. I'll get you results before you even know it."

For the next half hour, Sergio remained with Lance and they worked on Lance's chest and biceps.

By the time they finished, Lance's chest and arms felt numb. "I have a feeling I'm going to be sore in the

morning," he said, resting the barbells on the rack. "But I feel like I accomplished something this time.

Thanks for showing me all this. I appreciate it." He felt awkward talking to Sergio. Lance didn't speak to

other men and call them man, buddy, and dude. If he did speak that way it always sounded strange coming

from his mouth. But he did get a slight thrill up his leg when Sergio spoke that way.

"No problem, bro," Sergio said. He lifted his right arm, made a fist, and tightened his bicep. "Go

ahead, feel that. I can get your arm just as solid if you want me to."

Lance stared at his bicep and hesitated.

"Go ahead, man," Sergio said. "Just grab it."

Lance had to force himself not to appear giddy. He lifted his hand and reached out to touch

Sergio's huge solid bicep with his fingertips. He didn't want to be obvious; he didn't want Sergio to think he

was groping him in an inappropriate way, so he squeezed his arm and said, "I doubt my arm will ever get

that big."

"It won't get that big, man," Sergio said. "You have a softer body and it's nice that way and you

don't want no big muscles. But I can get it toned really firm for you."

Lance ignored his poor grammar skills and smiled. "Ah well, it might be too late for that. You're a

lot younger than I am."

Sergio sent him a sideways glance and said, "No way, dude. What are you? Like thirty or

something?"

Lance had tipped to the wrong side of thirty years earlier and he'd never actually said this aloud to

anyone. He'd always remained silent about his age and he'd let people wonder. So he smiled at Sergio and

said, "I'm thirty-five." He was about to celebrate his fortieth birthday soon. The worst part of this was he

didn't feel an ounce of guilt about lying to him either.

"Hell, dude," Sergio said. "I'm twenty-eight. You're not that much older. You can really get some

good results if you know what you're doing." He reached out with both hands and grabbed Lance's arms.

He rubbed them a few times and said, "You've already got some good stuff going on there. I can help you

out and I won't charge you anything." He tilted his head sideways toward an older man working out on one

of the weight machines a few feet away. Then he leaned forward and spoke in a soft stage whisper. "Hell,

I'm used to working with all these old dudes who pay and it's all bullshit. They're never going to get any

better. I only make them feel better. You'd be a challenge because you've got a great body and you're

halfway there already."

"When you put it that way, I guess I can't refuse," Lance said.

After Sergio told him a few things he wanted to do with him at the gym, Lance shook his hand,

agreed to do it, and went into the locker room feeling lighter, happier, and younger than he'd felt since his

actual thirty-fifth birthday. He'd worked up such a sweat with Sergio he wanted to shower before he went

home. And he had to do this fast because he'd left Mavis home alone that day and he liked to feed her on

time every night.

On Sundays the gym didn't attract a huge crowd, so he basically had the entire locker room alone,

which was fine with him. By the time he returned to his locker from the showers with one towel around his

waist and another around his neck, he heard a clank and knew someone had entered. He figured it was one

of the two older men who had been working out on weight machines. He didn't think twice about removing

both towels, drying his body, and leaning over to towel dry his newly bleached blond hair.

But while he was leaning over he heard a snap, and then felt a sharp sting on the middle of his ass.

He jerked forward and dropped the towel. When he reached back to grab his ass, he turned sideways and

found Sergio standing behind him with a big grin, a wet towel in his hand, and nothing but the jock strap on

his body.

"Calm down, bro," Sergio said. "I didn't mean to scare you. I'm just messing around."

"Ah, well," Lance said, feeling awkward because he was naked and his hair was sticking up all

over the place. He forced a smile and tried to laugh. "I just didn't see you coming."

Sergio shrugged and looked at Lance's nude body for a second. "Sorry, man," he said. "I should

know better than to sneak up that way on a guy like you. You're not like that. You're better than that. I

guess I hang around with the wrong types so much I forget."

Lance shrugged and said, "It's okay. I'm not scarred for life, trust me. And I don't want to be

treated any differently than your other clients." He couldn't help but notice the thick hard muscles up and

down Sergio's torso, or the way his torso tapered to a smaller waist and slim hips. He wasn't hairy, but he

obviously didn't shave his body like so many weight lifters Lance had seen in magazines. And the fuzzy

hair he did have on his legs and lower abdomen was a lighter shade of brown than his head.

"I'm gonna hit the showers, man," Sergio said. He reached down and scratched his leg right next to

the bulge in his jock strap.

The big bulge in Sergio's jock strap was something else that was hard to ignore. Lance glanced at

it fast, and then looked down at the floor. "I have to get home and feed the dog," he said. He knew that

sounded lame but he didn't know what else to say.

Sergio ignored his remark about the dog and glanced at him one last time. As he turned to head

toward the shower room, he said, "At least I knew I was right about one thing."

He continued walking and Lance turned and followed with his eyes. "What's that?" This time he

stared at Sergio's naked ass, the way his big feet hit the floor with each step, and blatant confidence with

which he walked. Lance didn't walk around in a jock strap that way in the locker room. He went to and

from the shower as fast as he could and he got dressed even faster. Most men did the same thing. But not

Sergio. He seemed to strut, with his head up high, and the huge bulge between his legs lead the way.

Sergio stopped and sent him a backward glance. "I knew you had a great body, dude. You'll be in

shape in no time." Then he turned again, stopped at a bench near the shower room, and pulled his jock strap

off without looking back. If he knew Lance was watching he didn't seem to care. But Lance figured all

straight guys acted that way in locker rooms and he didn't give it a second thought.

In the weeks that followed, Lance met Sergio at the gym every night and learned something

different. Although he had trouble getting out of bed the next morning, and his forty year old body seemed

to be rejecting all this strenuous training, he always went back for more in the evening. When he spoke to

Davis on the phone later at night he mentioned he was working out more at the gym but didn't say a word

about Sergio. Davis thought it was wonderful and he encouraged Lance to continue doing what he was

doing.

So that's exactly what Lance did.

By the third week, Lance began to see results. His pectoral muscles were starting to pop, his

abdominal muscles began to show, and he even had a small solid bump when he lifted his arm and flexed

his bicep. He'd never met a straight man as caring and encouraging as Sergio. He often felt guilty about his

first impressions of Sergio because Sergio was nothing like he'd imagined him to be. Although he wasn't

polished and his grammatical skills lacked a great deal, he paid attention to everything Lance said and

complimented him more than anyone had complimented Lance in years.

Lance forgot all about getting old and having more years behind him than ahead of him. He

thought more about how young he felt and about how much he enjoyed each moment he spent working out

with Sergio. The hot flashes and night terrors disappeared completely. He felt more like twenty-five than

thirty-five, and forty didn't even enter his thoughts anymore. Lance even made a point of letting Sergio

know he was gay; just to make sure Sergio knew. One evening while they were working on Lance's biceps,

Lance said, "It's nice that you're so comfortable with me. I feel like we're friends." Sergio shrugged and

said, "We are friends. Why wouldn't I feel comfortable?" Lance took a deep breath and lifted the barbells

higher. "Some straight guys get uncomfortable around gay guys. But you're different." This time, for the

first time, Sergio looked down at the floor and said, "It's all good, man. That doesn't bother me."

At the beginning of the fourth week, Lance didn't even realize he'd begun to speak like Sergio. He

didn't do it all the time; he just slipped into it once in a while and only with Sergio. They'd been working on

Lance's abs all evening and Lance hadn't used the tanning bed in the gym for a while. He sat up on the

bench, turned to Sergio, and said, "I'm going to tan now. I'll see you tomorrow, man."

"Wait for me, dude," Sergio said. "I haven't tanned in a while either."

There were two upright tanning beds in the gym and neither of them had signed up for an

appointment that night. "I just hope the beds a free, dude," Lance said. "I need some color bad, dude."

"Me, too, bro," Sergio said.

They walked to the back of the gym where the tanning beds were located in two small private

cubicles that had been designed and built around the tanning beds for privacy so people could dress and

undress alone. When the beds were in use there was a red light over the cubicle door, and when they

weren't there was a green light. The cubicle to the left had a red light. The one on the right was free. So

Lance shrugged and said, "I'll flip you for it, bro. I'll take heads."

But as he reached into his pocket for a quarter, Sergio said, "Let's just go in together. It'll save time

and we can just keep turning around."

Lance blinked. "Seriously? I don't think so." Those tanning booths were tight.

Sergio gave him a shove and laughed. "Dude, it's only tanning."

Lance had managed to build what he thought was a nice friendship with Sergio. He didn't want to

ruin that by going into a tanning bed with him and getting all worked up. "I don't know, man. I'm not sure

it's even allowed."

Sergio opened the louvered door of the cubicle with one hand and grabbed Lance's arm with the

other. "Dude, you worry too much." Then he yanked him into the cubicle and said, "I'll go to the desk and

get some tanning lotion. Take off your clothes. Don't turn the bed on until I get back."

He left before Lance had a chance to object. While he was gone, Lance stood there alone in his

sweats waiting for him to return. At least he knew he wouldn't get an erection. He was too nervous to think

about anything but getting all this over with as fast as possible.

When Sergio returned and he found Lance standing there fully clothed, he frowned and said,

"Dude, get undressed already. It's getting late." Then he proceeded to kick off his sneakers, pull off his

socks, and yank down his shorts.

While they undressed, their arms bumped and their bodies touched. It was such a small cubicle it

was hard to turn in any direction without hitting a wall, the full length mirror, or the tanning bed. At one

point, Lance almost tipped over and Sergio grabbed his waist just in time.

Lance decided to leave his boxer briefs on just in case, and Sergio didn't seem to notice. But

Sergio pulled off his jock strap, turned around, and said, "Dude, could you put lotion on my back? I'll do

yours, too."

Lance gulped and said, "I don't use lotion."

"Cool," Sergio said. "Just put some on my back then."

Lance took the bottle of tanning lotion from him, poured a thick slab on his palm, and then rubbed

it all over Sergio's back so fast he barely had time to even realize what he was doing. He knew if he worked

the lotion in slowly he might caress him in an obvious way. Lance was so nervous he started to break out in

a sweat and the tanning bed wasn't even on yet. Sergio seemed to notice this and he started making jokes

about Lance's cold hands. They started laughing and Lance forgot all about how awkward this was. Sergio

finally yanked the lotion out of his hand and said, "I'll to the rest, man. You're no good at this. You get in

there and turn on the bed."

When they put on their tanning goggles and closed the door to the upright tanning booth, Lance

said, "That lotion smells terrible. It's like coconut and pineapple went sour, man." He'd always hated sweet

perfumed scents.

Sergio backed up to Lance's back and said, "Hold your fucking nose, then. I like it."

"How will we know when to turn around?" Lance asked. He had to speak louder because the

interior fan in the booth drowned his voice.

"I'll tell you when to turn," Sergio said. "I'm wearing my watch. I like a little tan line." Then he

laughed because he was naked except for the watch.

This particular upright tanning booth was older and it took fifteen minutes to get the full effects.

For the first seven minutes they remained back to back in silence. It was so hot and the lotion smell

bothered Lance so much he'd only gone semi-erect, not fully erect. He figured Sergio wouldn't even notice

this. But when Sergio told him it was time to turn around and face each other so they could expose their

backs to the tanning bulbs, he never expected Sergio's full erection to poke him in the groin.

He pretended he didn't notice. He wasn't sure what to do or say.

Then Sergio moved forward and put his hands on Lance's waist. He pulled Lance closer until his

erection wound up flat against Lance's lower abdomen.

They stood in silence this way for a second or two, and then Lance asked, "What's going on?"

Sergio leaned forward and kissed his neck. "You know what's going on. It's time to stop playing

games."

Out of sheer reflex, Lance lifted his arms and rested his hands on Sergio's shoulders. He hadn't

been with another man since he'd been single over twenty years earlier and he was amazed at how much

bigger Sergio was than Davis. "I thought you were straight. I heard you were married and have a kid."

Sergio kissed his neck again and said, "I thought you knew I was bi-sexual."

Lance closed his eyes and his hands went up higher. He rested his cheek against Sergio's chest and

inhaled. That awful flowery lotion didn't smell as bad anymore. He was now fully erect and his dick was

sticking up through the waistband of his boxer briefs. "I didn't know. I thought you were just a really cool

straight guy."

Sergio's hands went down lower and he started to rub and massage Lance's ass. "Fuck, you are so

hot, man. I've been dying to do this for so long. It took me weeks to get the balls to come over and talk to

you that first time."

"I had no idea," Lance said. Lance had no idea this had been going on.

But Sergio thought he was talking about being bi-sexual. "Oh yeah," Sergio said. "I've been with

men and women, but I've never felt this way about anyone else. It's like I'm in love with you and can't get

enough. You're so beautiful it's like too hard to believe it's true, man."

The way Sergio held him and rubbed him felt better than anything he'd experienced in the past ten

years of his life. He ran his hands up and down Sergio's shoulders and arms. He lowered one hand between

Sergio's legs and took his erection gently. He couldn't get his fingers all the way around it. He stroked it a

few times and said, "I'm older than you."

"You're only thirty-five, man," Sergio said. "That's nothing."

Lance gulped. He didn't feel like telling the complete truth yet. "But I have a partner and we've

been together for a long time. I shouldn't be doing this."

"Are you happy with the dude?" Sergio said. He bit Lance's neck and sucked it for a second. "Can

he make you feel like I can?"

If this had been an experience without emotion, Lance might have reacted differently. But the

problem for him rested in the fact that he did have feelings for Sergio that frightened him more than he'd

realized. When he thought there was no chance Sergio felt the same way about him his own feelings didn't

seem to matter. He could brush them off as the middle aged fantasies of a lonely gay man lusting after a

jock in his twenties. Unrequited love seemed logical; this didn't.

Sergio grabbed the back of his head with one hand and his ass with the other. Then he kissed

Lance so hard that his tongue met Lance's the instant Lance's back hit the wall of the tanning bed. He

pinned Lance with such force Lance's knees went weak and he had to hang onto his shoulders for support.

The tanning bed went off, the bulbs went dark, and they continued to kiss. Someone knocked on the door

and they ignored it. Sergio pulled off his goggles and then pulled off Lance's. As Lance slipped into

complete submission and his head went back and one leg went up, he grabbed Sergio's shoulders, dug his

nails into his flesh, and he snuggled into his strong hot body as if he couldn't get enough of him. The harder

Sergio kissed him the higher his leg went. When Sergio slipped his hand inside Lance's briefs, he pressed

his middle finger to the lips of Lance's anus and Lance arched his back and spread his legs.

But a second later, he pulled his face away from Sergio's and said, "I can't do this. You have to let

go."

"I love you," Sergio said. "You know you want it, man. You know you love me, too."

Lance pressed his palms to Sergio's chest muscles and tried to push him back. But he was too

strong; Lance couldn't do anything more than struggle to keep his face away from Sergio's. "Please let go of

me. I can't do this. It's wrong."

"I'll let go on one condition," Sergio said.

"What?" He would have been willing to do anything to get out of there. He couldn't control his

feelings anymore. If he remained this way a minute longer he would submit completely and nothing would

ever be the same again.

"That we can still be friends and this won't change anything," Sergio said.

"I don't understand," Lance said. He'd just rejected him. He thought Sergio would be pissed.

"I love you too much to let you go completely," Sergio said. "If I can't have you as my lover, I'll

settle for a friend."

"You'd do that?" He was so big and strong it was hard to let go of him.

"Yes," Sergio said. "I'd do anything for you."

"Then yes," Lance said. "We can be friends. Nothing will change. But please let me go now. This

is too confusing. I have to get out of here. I'm sorry."

Sergio held him tighter and kissed him one more time. Then he released him and backed into the

other wall. As Lance turned to leave, he looked back and asked, "What would you have done if I hadn't said

yes? Would you have let go of me?"

Sergio reached out and caressed his shoulder. "Of course I would have let go of you. I just wanted

to hear it. I wanted to know you don't think I'm just a big dumb jock who knocked up a cheerleader and

works in a pizza place."

Lance pushed the door open and said, "I don't think that. I'll see you tomorrow. And thank you."

"For what?" Sergio asked. Lance noticed he was still fully erect and not a bit ashamed of it.

Chapter Seven

After the evening in the tanning booth, Lance and Sergio went right back to being both freebie

client and professional trainer, and friends. At first, Lance had been worried their one erotic encounter

would ruin their platonic relationship. But the morning after the tanning bed encounter Sergio stopped in

for coffee unannounced, as if making a point to assure Lance everything was still fine between them, and

pretended as if it had never happened. He joked around with Lance, bought a book on vitamins, and

confirmed their work out session for that evening. The only hint Sergio gave that suggested something

more intimate might have happened between them was when he left the bookshop for work and he sent

Lance a backward glance with a quick wink. Lance smiled and nodded. After that, Lance suspected

everything was going to be okay between them.

When Davis returned from Asia, he seemed to notice all of the changes in Lance, not just the

obvious physical changes Lance had made by working out so often with Sergio. He asked Lance again if he

wanted to get another dog and Lance smiled and said, "I'm not ready yet." He'd come to terms with Davis's

travel and with the fact that he would be alone more often. He'd figured out a way to build a life on his own

without Davis and having a puppy around would have been more of a hindrance than a help. He didn't want

to train a new puppy, he didn't want to rush home to feed a new puppy, and he didn't want to be strapped

taking a new puppy to work with him every day and dealing with all that neediness. He wanted to plan his

days around his work, and his evenings around going to the gym and working out with Sergio.

Lance didn't even frown when Davis informed him he had to return to Asia the following week. "I

know I've been gone a long time," Davis said. "But I have to go back again next week for some important

meetings. But I'll only be there for three weeks this time."

Davis told him this while they were in a restaurant having dinner. He spoke with such a cautious

tone Lance stopped eating, reached across the table, and held his hand. "Don't worry. I'm okay with it.

Seriously. I really don't mind."

"You're not mad?"

Lance shook his head and smiled. "Not in the least. I'm busier than ever and I like what I'm doing.

That makes all the difference to me."

"I promise I'll make it up," Davis said. "We'll take a trip to Palm Springs when I get back this

time. You plan everything."

"Let's wait and see," Lance said, reaching for his wine. "There's no rush."

Davis hesitated for a moment, as if he were afraid to reply. Then he said, "I have to admit that I

like your new attitude. I was worried you'd really freak out on me when I told you I had to go back. But this

new outlook you seem to have is wonderful."

"New outlook?" Lance asked. He had no idea what Davis was talking about. He knew he'd

changed, but not that much.

"You just seem different," Davis said. "You even look different."

Lance finished his wine and shrugged. "I decided to stop feeling sorry for myself and to just make

things work. It's hard to explain. I wish you didn't have to travel, but I understand and I'm fine with it. I

really am."

When they went home that night they made love. After that, they went back to the normal routines

they had whenever Davis was home from a business trip, except for the fact that Lance went to the gym for

an hour each night to work out with Sergio. Davis didn't seem to mind. He encouraged Lance to go to the

gym. Lance asked Davis to join him a couple of times so he could meet his trainer, Sergio, and they could

work out together. But Davis couldn't spare the time and he spent that extra hour each evening working in

his home office.

The night before Davis left for Asia again Lance canceled his session with Sergio so he could go

home early and prepare a quiet dinner for two in front of the fireplace. In bed that night, they made love in

their favorite position, with Davis on top and Lance face down again. Davis left the next morning with a

kiss, a hug, and such a small amount of fanfare anyone looking in at them from the outside would have

thought he was going out to buy a pack of gum instead of taking a trip half way around the world.

As he stood in the doorway waving goodbye, Lance felt secure and safe and as stress-free as he'd

been in years. He was even looking forward to a possible trip to Asia in the coming months. After they

made love the night before, Davis had mentioned it would be fun to take Lance along just once so he could

see some of the things Davis had discovered in Hong Kong and a few other places he'd traveled to in Asia.

When Lance mentioned the trip to Hong Kong to Sergio that night, Sergio shrugged, looked down

at a set of barbells, and said, "Sounds nice." Then he pointed to the barbells as if Lance had never

mentioned a trip to Hong Kong and said, "I think you can use these tonight. They aren't that heavy."

Lance picked up the weights without commenting and went right into this normal work out with

Sergio. But he noticed something different about Sergio that night he couldn't explain. Sergio seemed

quieter than usual, and he didn't joke around at all. He avoided eye contact and treated Lance as if he were

nothing more than a paying client. He didn't even offer to walk out to his car with him at the end of the

session. Lance knew Sergio could be moody at times, so he didn't make a big thing out of it. But Sergio's

odd mood lasted for the next four nights and Lance was beginning to wonder if he should say something.

On Friday evening, Lance had to cancel his work out session with Sergio because his part time

employee called in sick that night. He didn't mind. He hadn't worked at night for a while and he liked

getting to know the customers who came in at night. It was always a different crowd. The bookshop had

turned into a gathering place for many in town. They didn't always bring Lance more business, but he liked

knowing he'd created a place for people to socialize and talk about books. His goal was to see this continue;

hoping in time more people would spend money on books and make his shop a regular destination point.

He wasn't sure about this; the bookshop's increase had flattened out and he been seeing a decline in sales in

spite of the fact that he had more people in every day. At that point he wasn't worried because he knew the

shop was at least breaking even, he had cash in his pockets, and Davis was making more money than ever

now.

In fact, money was the last thing on his mind when he turned and saw Sergio walk into the

bookshop around ten fifteen that night. Lance had just spoken to Davis on the phone, told him he loved

him, and that he was closing up for the night. When the little bell on the front door went off, Lance felt a

thump in his stomach because he hated turning customers away. But he'd been there since eight in the

morning and he wanted to go home, climb into bed, and do nothing but fall asleep watching TV.

Mavis barked at the bell and Lance looked up. He didn't even recognize Sergio because he was

wearing a black hoodie, his hands were in his pockets, and his shoulders were slumped forward. When

Sergio looked up and Lance saw his face, Lance took a deep breath and said, "It's you. I thought you were

another customer and I was ready to throw you out. It's been a long day, man."

While Lance gathered his things and prepared to close up for the night, Sergio crossed to the

counter and said, "I wanted to talk to you about something."

Lance was looking for his car keys. He wasn't paying attention to Sergio's expression. "Sure. What

do you want to talk about?"

"Us," Sergio said.

Lance pulled his car keys from the bottom of his briefcase and said, "What about us?" He was

thinking about the long hot bubble bath he might take that night.

Sergio reached over the counter, grabbed Lance's arm, and said, "Would you please stop moving

around and look at me. This isn't easy."

When Sergio grabbed his arm so hard, Lance's head jerked back and he looked into Sergio's dark

eyes. The hood still covered most of his head and he hadn't shaved in a few days. "You're hurting me,"

Lance said.

Sergio released his arm and lifted both of his arms up at the same time. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean

that. I just wanted to get your attention. This is serious."

Something wasn't right. Lance had never seen such a dark, serious expression on Sergio's face.

This time he reached over, placed his hand on Sergio's, and said, "I can see that. Let me lock the door, pull

down the blinds, and lower the lights first."

A minute later, Lance went over to the large brown leather sofa near the free coffee counter where

his customers usually gathered to discuss what they were reading. For some reason, they all preferred that

sofa to the lighter, softer one. While he'd been closing the shop and pulling the shades down Sergio had

walked over to the sofa. He was sitting in the middle, slumped forward with his elbows on his knees and

his head in his hands. He'd removed the hood and his short hair was sticking up in the back which gave him

a messy quality that only made him look more adorable.

Lance sat beside him and reached up to smooth down the shock of thick hair sticking out in back.

"What's so important that it can't wait until I see you tomorrow at the gym? I've never seen you look this

serious." He tried to smooth down the shock of hair again, but it remained sticking out.

Sergio jerked his head away from Lance's hand and said, "That's the problem. What you're doing

right now."

Lance opened his eyes wider. "I was just smoothing down your hair. I'm sorry." He often did

things like this to Sergio and he never seemed to mind. Lance gave him fashion advice, told him where to

get his hair cut, and made a point of telling Sergio he should never, under any circumstances, wear cowboy

boots with sweat pants in public settings.

As Lance sat there waiting with a confused look, Sergio ran his large hands through his hair and

said, "It's the way you're touching me. It's the way you walk, the way you look, and the way you act with

me. It's everything about you, man. Can't you see that?"

Lance thought they had established a good friendship by then. He knew there were underlying

emotions, but he thought those emotions were under control. "I really don't understand. I'm sorry." But he

was starting to get an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

Sergio turned slowly and looked him in the eye. He reached out and held Lance's arms and took a

quick breath before he spoke. "I'm in love with you. I can't do this anymore. I know you feel the same way

about me, too. And don't try to deny it."

Lance tried to back up but Sergio wouldn't release his arms. Even though he hadn't expected

Sergio to approach him this way, he had this odd feeling deep down that he'd had this conversation with

Sergio in the past. "I thought we settled all that," Lance said. He did have deeper feelings for Sergio but

he'd decided it was best to ignore them for the sake of his marriage and their friendship. "I thought you

knew our friendship had to remain platonic because I'm with Davis. I can't have sex with you and I can't

cheat on Davis that way. I'm just not wired for that, Sergio."

"I'm not talking about sex," Sergio said, holding him tighter. "I'm trying to tell you that I'm in love

with you and I want you to leave Davis and come with me. The thought of you being with him about killed

me this week. I've been thinking about it for a long time. My parents are in Italy right now and you can

move in with me over the pizza shop. We'll find an apartment of our own fast. I know a lot of people in

town."

"The pizza shop? An apartment?"

"Yes," Sergio said. "My parents won't be home for a while and we can find someplace else to live

before they get back."

Although Lance knew Sergio had feelings for him, he had clearly underestimated Sergio's deepest

emotional feelings. But more than that, he'd underestimated his own emotional feelings as well. He'd

compartmentalized his relationship with Sergio in a neat, concise way because he never dreamed Sergio

would actually fall so desperately in love with him. For one thing, there was the age difference between

them. Lance still hadn't told Sergio he was really forty instead of thirty-five. And second, Lance had always

thought of Sergio as a guy who preferred casual sex more than an actual relationship. And in thinking this

way Lance had found a safe place to be at all times. The fantasy and excitement were always there, but

without the reality of actually having to make any choices.

Sergio pulled Lance closer. Lance tried to push him away but he wouldn't let go. He put his arms

around Lance and kissed his neck. "I know you feel the same way about me, so don't try to deny it." Then

he forced Lance to his back, climbed on top of him, and started kissing him on the mouth.

The instant Sergio's tongue met his Lance stopped trying to push him off and he responded by

putting his arms around Sergio's shoulders and caressing the back of his head. His entire body relaxed to

the point where he opened his legs and invited Sergio to push into his crotch in a way that made Lance

erect within seconds. While he kissed Sergio he felt that same sense of déjà vu once again as he tried to

catch his breath. He imagined what his life might be like living with Sergio over the pizza shop, waking up

to this hunk of man on top of him every morning of his life.

"I love you so much," Sergio said. "I can't live without you anymore. I can't pretend we're just

friends. I need you and I want us to be couple."

Before Lance could reply, Sergio started kissing him again and this time he reached down to

unfasten Lance's jeans. Lance's heart was racing by then and he knew what they were doing was wrong but

made no attempt to stop Sergio from pulling his pants down to his knees. Sergio felt so familiar and

comfortable, so strong and confident. He made Lance feel desirable and young again. To have a younger

man take him this way and love him so much fed into all the insecurities that had kept Lance awake many

nights when he thought about growing older and never having these feelings again. And in the same

respect, these were all new feelings because no man had ever made Lance feel this way, not even Davis. Or

maybe Davis had and Lance had forgotten. All Sergio had to do was brush against his face with the stubble

on his chin and Lance felt as if his body were ready to explode with ecstasy. All the wicked thoughts Lance

had ever had about men rushed through his mind in fast forward. Sergio smelled like a man, he held Lance

like a man, and he even moved in rough unplanned ways like a man.

As Sergio pulled down his own pants, Lance arched his back and opened his legs wider. Though

he'd thought about sex with Sergio he never thought it would actually happen, especially not after that time

Lance had turned Sergio down in the tanning booth. And now that it was happening all over again his own

eagerness stunned him. He didn't pay attention to his cell phone when it started ringing. Sergio didn't even

seem to hear the phone.

Then Sergio reached back to remove Lance's shoes and socks. He pulled them off fast and yanked

Lance's jeans off even faster. Having a young man undress him this way sent even more primal sensations

through Lance's body, to the point where had had trouble focusing now. When Lance was naked from the

waist down, he opened his legs as wide as he could without shame and rested one foot on the coffee table in

front of the sofa and the other up higher on the back of the sofa. As he arched his back again he reached for

Sergio's shoulders and pulled Sergio on top of him so they could kiss. This time when their tongues met

Sergio pushed his erection between Lance's legs and he started moving his hips and poking into the bottom

of Lance's ass.

In between kisses, Sergio said, "God, you feel so good, so soft and gentle. I want to make love to

you like no one's ever done it before. You make me feel so strong and so alive. I'm a better person with

you."

A tear ran down the side of Lance's face and he stopped kissing Sergio. Something deep down

inside, something that made him feel empty, told him it wasn't right and that he needed to stop. He turned

his head to the left and said, "I love you, too, but this is wrong. Please get up now. I've been with Davis for

half a lifetime and this is going to change all our lives if we continue." He didn't admit this to Sergio, but he

knew deep down he could leave Davis for Sergio: he loved them both in very different ways.

"It's not wrong," Sergio said, as he pushed harder between Lance's legs. "We love each other and

we can have a life together."

When Sergio said this, Lance saw Davis's face flash before his eyes. He knew that if he continued

this desperate act of passion on the sofa Sergio would enter him and there would be no turning back. If they

did make love that night, his life would change forever and he would have no choice but to leave Davis and

begin a new life with Sergio. Up until now, Lance had never had to make real choices that involved his

emotions. His life with Davis had fallen into place and he'd never even questioned these things until now.

Sergio pushed harder and Lance took a deep breath. "You need me," Sergio said. "You need a real

man who knows how to make love to you like I'm doing right now. Tell me you love me."

Lance felt another tear slide down his cheek. "I do love you. That's the problem, Sergio. I love you

so much. It's not that simple. I love Davis, too, and I have a life with him."

"Let me show you how much I love you just once," Sergio said. "Let me make love to you."

At that moment, Lance had this peculiar feeling he'd reached a pivotal point in his life where he

had the choice to either continue with the life he'd begun with Davis or move on to the life he could choose

to have with Sergio. He thought about the life he'd built with Davis and the home and business he loved so

much. He thought about Sergio ripping his clothes off and making love to him in the apartment over the

pizza shop. With a man like Sergio he would never be alone. With Davis he might be alone for the rest of

his life. He thought about how much Davis had supported him emotionally all those years, and then he felt

Sergio's rough stubble against his face and he inhaled Sergio's strong locker room scent once again. But

then something inside his head clicked and he knew what he had to do. It went against all of his most basic

instincts, and yet deep down a quiet little voice in his head told him it was the right choice. But more than

that, it was his only choice.

He reached down between his legs and he grabbed Sergio just as he was about to enter. He held

him gently, stroked him, and said, "Stop. I can't do this." The words didn't even sound real because he

wanted to do it so much. He wanted this big handsome stud more than he'd wanted anything in a long time.

But he also knew that if Sergio did enter him and they did make love that night there would be no turning

back.

"But I love you," Sergio said. "Let me show you what I can do to you."

For a moment, Lance hesitated. He almost opened his legs wider so he could find out what it was

like to be with Sergio. But then he pushed Sergio, climbed out from under him, and looked around for his

pants. "I'm sorry. I love you, too, but I love Davis in a different way. I can't even explain it."

Sergio fell back on the sofa and sighed aloud. He made no attempt to pull up his pants right away,

as if he were hoping Lance would see him half naked and change his mind. "What about us? Don't I

matter?"

Lance pulled up his jeans and fastened them. He sat on the edge of the sofa and reached for

Sergio's hand. "Of course you matter. You have no idea how much you matter. That's why I'm doing this. I

think I know what love really is, Sergio. I've been with the same man for a long time and it's more than

what you think it is. And I'm just not willing to let go of everything I've worked so hard for all my life. But

most of all, I can't hurt Davis that way. I do love him and you actually just helped me realize how much I

love my life with him. I didn't even realize that until now. It's not perfect, but nothing is perfect. You'll

figure that out someday on your own. But it's not going to be with me." He tried to explain all this with a

calm, even tone. He didn't mention the gut feeling, or the fact that when he thought about what life would

be like living with Sergio over the pizza shop he felt a tug in his stomach that confused him. Although he

could imagine himself living with Sergio over the pizza shop on a surface level, he had another odd feeling

deep down that it would alter his life in ways he couldn't imagine.

Lance stood up and looked around for his shoes. When he found them he sat down on a club chair

opposite the sofa and said, "I'm really sorry, Sergio. I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I feel horrible."

The forty year old should know better with the twenty-eight year old. He felt as if he'd led Sergio on all

these months, indulging in what could only be described as the selfish emotions of a silly man avoiding

middle age with every breath and movement he took. A little red convertible would have been easier in the

long run.

Sergio sat up and pulled up his pants. When he stood up he fastened them and said, "At least we

can still be friends."

Lance smiled. He stood and reached for Sergio's hand. "Not this time. I don't think we should see

each other anymore. It's too strong and we would only be fooling ourselves, and you know that. I think it's

time we both faced reality and moved in separate ways." Sergio had been the only light in his life since

Davis had started traveling to Asia. He knew if he continued his friendship with Sergio this scene would

only be replayed again in the future. The next time he might not be strong enough to resist.

Sergio looked down and frowned. Then he shrugged and said, "I suppose you're right." He turned,

lifted his head, and looked into Lance's eyes. "Can I have one last kiss?"

Lance reached up to gently caress the back of Sergio's head. When he did this, Sergio grabbed him

so hard and kissed him with such force Lance wound up hanging from Sergio's shoulders, leaning back so

far that if Sergio had let go of him he would have fallen to the floor. It was as if Sergio wanted Lance to

remember this kiss, and to know what he would be missing for the rest of his life.

When they stopped kissing this time, Lance balanced himself and took a step back. "I'll see you

around town. But I won't be back at the gym again."

Sergio pulled the hood up over his head and said, "Yeah, I understand. I'll see you, man." Then he

turned to leave without looking back.

As Lance crossed to the front window and pulled the shade back so he could watch Sergio

disappear into the darkness, his phone rang again and he ran back to the counter to answer it. He knew it

was Davis calling without even bothering to look at the caller ID on the screen.

"Hey," Lance said. "I was just closing up for the night to go home."

"You're still there?" Davis asked. "It's late. I called the house first so ignore the voice mail."

"It was a complicated day," Lance said, as he leaned into the counter and smiled.

"I can't talk long, but I've been thinking since we hung up earlier. I've been sitting in my hotel

room all alone every night this week and thinking about how ridiculous this is," Davis said. "And you're

sitting there all alone every night, which is even more ridiculous."

"I'm okay," Lance said. "We'll get through it." He had a few small regrets about turning Sergio

down, but hearing Davis's voice reinforced the decision he'd just made.

"Why don't you come here for a couple of weeks?" Davis asked. "I know it's crazy, but I can have

a ticket waiting for you at the airport as soon as you like."

"Are you serious? I wouldn't get in the way with work?"

"Of course I'm serious," Davis said. "I want you to come here. I should have brought you here

sooner."

"I'll do it," Lance said. At that moment, nothing else seemed to matter.

"You will?"

"Yes," Lance said. "Don't sound so surprised."

"It just thought you wouldn't want to leave the shop," Davis said. "Or that you wouldn't want to

leave Mavis or your workouts at the gym." Lance had never been fond of travel and usually came up with

all kinds of excuses to avoid it.

"The shop will still be here when I get back," Lance said. "And Mavis will be fine with my

mother. I'll drive down and drop her off tomorrow."

"You don't have to decide right now," Davis said. "You can think about it."

Lance started laughing and he wasn't sure why. "It's not the most difficult decision in the world. I

want to be with my husband. It's really very simple."

"You don't mind being seen with a middle aged man," Davis said.

"Why would I mind? I'm a middle aged man." It was the first time Lance had admitted this aloud

to himself or to anyone else.

"Your personal trainer might miss you," Davis said. This was the first time Davis had ever made

any reference at all to Sergio. Evidently, he'd been paying closer attention than Lance realized.

"I'm not going to the gym anymore," Lance said. He felt it was important to mention this aloud.

"You're not?"

"No. I decided I've gotten all I'm going to get there and I can work out at home just as easily from

now on."

"I have to run now," Davis said. "I'll e-mail you the itinerary and I'll call you tomorrow around the

same time and we'll confirm when you're coming."

"Sounds good," Lance said. "I love you."

"Love you, too," Davis said.

When they hung up, Lance gathered his things and hooked a harness and leash to Mavis. As he

locked the door of the bookshop from the outside, he glanced at the sign in his window and smiled. Years

earlier Davis had cut an old piece of barn board and Lance had hand painted "Closed" on one side and

"Open" on the other. He turned and headed to a small bed and breakfast a few doors down where he paid to

park his car by the month. He had so many things to do before he left for Hong Kong he figured he'd better

start a running list when he got home. He had to look for his passport, get the luggage down from the third

floor closet, and call his mom to see if she could sit with Mavis for a few weeks.

As he turned toward the entrance of the small parking lot where he'd left his car earlier that

morning, he heard the sound of a truck coming toward him. He turned all the way around and realized it

was the UPS truck he normally saw speeding by his shop two and three times a day. But this time the driver

wasn't speeding. The truck moved so slowly that when it approached Lance had to squint because the

headlights started to blind him. While Mavis sat by his side and looked up at him as if trying to evaluate his

next move, he stood on the sidewalk waiting for the UPS truck to pass and he wasn't even sure why. He'd

never known the UPS guy well enough to have an actual conversation. As the truck moved closer, the

driver waved his hand slowly and Lance smiled and waved back. But it wasn't the tall, slim dark-haired

UPS guy who usually delivered packages. This driver was a small, nice-looking young guy with reddish

brown hair and a friendly smile. He reminded Lance of a guy he'd once known in college who had died

after a long battle with Leukemia.

Then Lance turned and walked toward his car, with Mavis in tow, still looking up at him. He didn't

even realize he was whistling an old song as he opened the door and scooped Mavis up so he could strap

her into the harness he kept in the backseat.

About the Author

Ryan Field is the author of over 100 published works of LGBT fiction, the best-selling Virgin

Billionaire series, a PG-rated hetero romance that was featured on The Home Shopping Network titled,

"Loving Daylight," and a few more works of full-length fiction with a pen name. He has worked in

publishing for twenty years as a writer, editor, and associate editor. His work has been in Lambda Award

winning anthologies and he's self-published a few novels with Ryan Field Press. You can reach at

mailto

rfieldj@aol.com

or he blogs at

www ryan-field.blogspot.com

Other Titles by Ryan Field

A Life Filled with Awesome Love

A Regular Bud

A Sign From Heaven Above

A Young Widows Promise

Another Regular Bud

Baby Cakes

Billabong Bang

Bury it Officer

Capping the Season

Captain Velvet's Velvet Box

Cherry Soda Cowboy

Cowboy Howdy

Cowboy Mike and Buddy Boy

Dirty Little Virgin

Four Feet Under

Internal Desires

It's Nice to be Naughty

Jolly Roger

Jonah Sweet of Delancey Street

Kevin Loves Cowboys

Missing Jackson's Hole

New Adult Love Story

Pumpkin Ravioli Boy

Sir, Yes Sir!

Skater Boy

Something for Saint Jude

Strawberries and Cream at the Plaza

That Cowboy in the Window

The Computer Tutor Box

The Women Who Love To Love Gay Romance

Unmentionable: The Men Who Loved on the Titanic

Vance's Flame

Whatever Dude

With this Cowboy I Love so Freely

You Missed a Spot Big Guy

Young Doughy Joey

Ravenous Romance Titles

A Christmas Carl

All about Yves

American Star

American Star II

An Officer and His Gentleman

Dancing Dirty

Field of Dreams

Four Gay Weddings and a Funeral

Gay Pride and Prejudice

Hot Italian Lover

He's Bewitched

Lasting Lust

My Fair Laddie

Pretty Man

Ricky's Business

Rough Naked and in Love

Shakespeare's Lover

Sleepless in San Francisco

Take Me Always

The Bachelor

The Buckhampton Country Club

The Ghost and Mr. Moore

The Mile High Club

The Way We Almost Were

Valley of the Dudes

When Harry Met Sal

Young Hung and Hitched

Virgin Billionaire Series

The Virgin Billionaire

The Virgin Billionaire and the Evil Twin

The Virgin Billionaire's Secret Baby

The Virgin Billionaire's Wedding

The Virgin Billionaire: Revenge

The Virgin Billionaire's Dream House

The Virgin Billionaire's Hot Amish Escapade

The Virgin Billionaire's Little Angel

The Virgin Billionaire's Reversal of Fortune

The Virgin Billionaire's Sexcellent Adventure

Glendora Hill Series

Cowboy Christmas Miracle

Bad Boy Billionaire Series

Cowboy in Love

Silicon Valley Sex Scandal

The Actor Learning to Love

The Ivy League Rake

The Vegas Shark

The Wall Street Shark

Chase Series:

Chase of a Dream - Abridged

Chase of a Dream - Unabridged

Chase of a Lifetime

Chase of an Adventure: Fifty Shades of Gay

Down The Basement Series:

Down the Basement

Down the Basement II: Santa Saturday

Second Chance Series:

Second Chance

Second Chance: The Littlest Christmas Tree