Clive put Mrs. Vittelli in a cab after they closed the shop, kissing her cheek. "Don't worry, I won't keep him out too late."

"I'm not worried, Clive." She gave her son a kiss. "Honey, are you sure you're okay? You usually have such iron digestion. Maybe that hot dog was bad. I don't want you eating from that stand anymore."

He nodded meekly. "Yes, Mom."

"Clive, don't let him overdo it. Feed him something bland, just in case."

Clive put a hand on Trenton's shoulder. "Don't worry, Lynette." He squeezed lightly. "I'll treat him like my own."

Mrs. Vittelli didn't notice the stare her son turned on the older man. "Good. You have your key, right sweetie? I'm going straight to bed after supper. I'm worn off my feet."

They waved the woman goodbye. Clive zipped up his black leather (naturally) jacket, then reached over and pulled the zipper on Trenton's windbreaker the rest of the way up to his chin. "And if you were mine, I wouldn't want you catching cold. Come on. There's a nice place nearby you ought to get familiar with."

As they walked, Trenton kept shooting glances at him. Finally he said, "Um, Clive? About this afternoon--I'm sorry I ..."

"Not right now, Trent, my love. Even I don't generally discuss masturbation on the street. We'll have plenty of time to talk when we get where we're going."

Trenton wasn't sure what he had been expecting. He'd been secretly hoping that they might go back to Clive's place. The thought left him breathless. He certainly hadn't expected to be taken into a club. The small neon sign over the entrance said 'Lavender's Green'.

The place was almost empty inside--it would be a couple of hours before the evening crowd started to arrive. Clive led him over to a bar, where a slender man with salt and pepper hair was setting up drink garnishes. The man stopped when he spotted Clive, a grin splitting his face.

"Hairman! Haven't seen you for weeks."

Clive shrugged apologetically. "Busy, busy, Toddy, m'man. Can't be quite my idle self since you-know-who went home. Still get a steady stream of business thanks to her."

"Knowhacha mean. It's not as simple since she started that mixed drink craze. But it's fun, and more profitable. What can I do for you and..." He trailed off, eyeing Trenton dubiously. "Clive, is he with you?"

"Yes, he is, and don't get your knickers in a twist. None of that is going on, you gutter minded drink dispenser. He's the son of a friend, and we need a cozy place for a man-to-man talk. And don't you dare laugh, or I'll do something the unpleasant sort of nasty to you."

"Oh, hey, no! Who'd be better for a man-to-man than you, Clive?" Toddy said in a conciliatory tone. "But, uh, isn't he a smidgen on the... uh..."

"He's a sixteen on the quail scale, and he's not here to be besotted or debauched. I'm not going to risk your license, Toddy. I just want to get supper back in the kitchen. That's considered private sector, so there'll be no problem."

"Well, why didn't you say so in the first place? Sure, go on back. Tell Elise that it's on the house." He gestured toward some swinging doors in the wall at the back of the bar.

Trenton followed Clive through the doors. They emerged in a good sized kitchen. An enormous black woman was tending several steaming pots on the stove. She tossed down her spoon with a squeal when she saw Clive, and enveloped him in a mammoth hug. "Where you been, pretty man? How you 'spect me to get along without a regular dose of your sunshine?"

"Sorry, Elise, darling. How are the braids holding up?" He examined the woman's hair critically. It was done up in dozens of small braids that gradually blended in back into one large one. "Very nice. You come back and see Trina when you need them done again."

"Wouldn't go nowhere else. So..." she beamed at Trenton. "Who's this cute lil' thing?"

Trenton rolled his eyes in a combination of good nature and exasperation. "Everyone keeps calling me little. For heavens sake, I'm grown up. Almost."

Elise's chuckle was as dark and smooth as her skin. "Oh, that's a youngun all right--getting his back up about bein' called little."

"He's just a friend, as in really just a friend," Clive said firmly. "We're going to borrow your table for awhile and get supper, if you have enough to spare."

She planted fists on ample hips and looked at him sternly. "Have enough? Clive, you tryin' to insult me?" She snorted. "Have enough. Tonight we got spaghetti with meat sauce. Even put in some mushrooms for the fancy crowd. That do you, or I could make you some hamburgers?"

Clive was taking off his jacket and hanging it on a wall peg. "I'd say go for the spaghetti, Trent. You won't regret it."

"Okay. That would be great. Thank you, ma'am."

Elise laughed again, and pinched Trenton's cheek. "And he's polite, too. He's lots nicer than some of the one's I seen you with, Clive."

Clive was unzipping Trenton's windbreaker. "We're not together, Elise." He pulled off the windbreaker and hung it up. When Trenton looked at him, he said, "Well, I'm sorry, but if you're going to just stand there like a doll, you're going to be treated like one. Sit down." To Elise he said quietly, "You know me better than that. Look at him."

Her expression was affectionate, but shrewd. "I done that, Clive. You're a good man, but you ain't nothin' but a man." Trenton was amazed to see a faint flush creep up Clive's cheeks. "You go on and help yourself to whatever you want to drink from the fridge while I get your plates." To Trenton she said, "You want garlic bread, honey?"

"As much as you'll give me."

She nodded approval. "I just love a boy with a good appetite," and began to prepare the plates.

Clive said, "Go on and have a seat, Trenton." Trenton sat at the well scrubbed table. It was considerably bigger than their kitchen table back home. At one end there was a bowl of freshly sliced mushrooms, the knife still on the little wooden cutting board it rested on.

The hairdresser opened the refrigerator, rummaging inside, and pulled out a beer. "What do you want, Trent?"

"I'll have a beer, too", he said nonchalantly.

"In case you've forgotten, dear boy, and I'm sure you haven't, the legal age to drink is currently eighteen. If you wait till you're legal, you're going to be terribly thirsty. Might I suggest a soft drink?"

Trent sighed. "Any rootbeer?"

"Yes." Clive retrieved another bottle. "You do strike me as a rootbeer sort." He pulled a pocketknife out, unfolded a church key, and opened the bottles. He sat, handing Trenton the rootbeer, then taking a sip of his own beer.

Trenton drank. It tasted good, sweet and fizzy, but he felt he should complain on general principles. "I don't see why I can't have a beer."

Clive smiled, but his eyes were serious. "Trenton, perhaps you are mature enough to handle one beer. But the majority of young men your age are not. They wouldn't stop at just one, They'd... mmmm... overindulge. So the government and the adults of the world, in their infinite wisdom, have set up restriction to protect the majority of the youths in our population. To be fair, the ones who might be ready, just have to wait." He took another pull on the beer. "That's how it is with a lot of things, Trent. Not just booze."

"I could handle it."

Elise set heaping plates of pasta and sauce before each of them, dumping cutlery beside the plates. Then she added a plate piled high with steaming chunks of Italian bread that shone bright, greasy yellow with melted butter, and smelled deliciously of garlic and Parmesan cheese. She ruffled Trenton's hair and said, "Just let me know when you want seconds," and went back to her stove.

Clive took a chunk of bread and tore off a mouthful, groaning happily. Voice muffled, he said, "Elise, when I get far enough ahead, I'm going partners with you in a restaurant. No backing out." He was answered by laughter. "Trenton," Clive shook the crust at him emphatically. "you can't be so selfish."

"Selfish how? I mean, I know it won't hurt me..."

"Have you thought about how flaunting the laws too terribly would hurt others? If you were to have that beer, and someone found out, Toddy could lose his license, even go to jail That would mean LG would shut down, and a lot of people would lose their jobs--Elise, Tinkerbelle, Betty, the band... I could get in trouble, too. And people would whisper about your mother, letting you get into such mischief."

Trenton had been about to fork up some spaghetti, but now he lowered his fork. "But that wouldn't be fair!"

"Life isn't fair, my little innocent. Sometimes we just have to wait."

Trenton sighed, poking dispiritedly at his spaghetti. "We're not just talking about beer, are we Clive?"

"I knew you were a bright boy. Eat that, don't play with it. Food play can be fun, under the right circumstances--with the right person." He closed his eyes for a second, lips quirking, as if remembering something, then looked at Trenton again. "But not at the table."

Trenton shook his fork at Clive. "There you go again. You keep saying things that make me think there's a whole 'nother world out there that I'm not allowed in. I'm getting kinda crazy, Clive."

"That's the natural state of teenagers." Clive started eating. Between mouthfuls he said, "Look, Trent, you really should be clear in your mind about some things. Your sexuality is one of them. Your Mum thinks I might be able to help you sort yourself out, so talk to me."

Trenton started eating, too, mainly as a way to avoid answering. He wasn't allowed. "I mean it. Don't make me get stern on you." He cocked his head, as if a thought had just occurred to him. "Or would you like that?" Trenton stared at the table, fingernails nervously scratching the smooth surface. "Talk."

"I'm gay." Trenton slanted a green glance at the older man.

Clive took a swallow of beer. He seemed to be pretty calm about the announcement. "Is this a long standing certainty, or a revelation? Has the conviction grown gradually, or did it... um... come in a blinding flash?"

"Kinda both, I guess. I've been noticing that I've been noticing guys. If you know what I mean."

Clive nodded. "I'm familiar with that. But you have been dating girls, haven't you?"

"Well, yeah. I have some girl friends, but they're not girlfriends."

"Have you done anything about it?"

Trenton flushed. "Kinda personal question, Clive."

"Yes, dear," he said blandly. "I'll be downright fucking rude if I'm trying to help someone I care for."

"I'm sure Mom appreciates it."

"I'm not talking about Lynette, honey." A huge grin split Trenton's face, and Clive shook his head. "Oh, no. Not the 'he likes me, he really likes me' look."

"But you do?"

"Of course I do. God, child, I'm not made of wood. I have a pulse. But I said I care for you. Yes, I think you're yummy. Yes, I'd like to take you back in my station, chain you to the wall..." At Trenton's wide eyed stare he grinned wickedly. "You thought those hooks in the wall were just for coats, didn't you? Chain you to the wall and ravish you insensate." Trenton shivered, despite the warmth of kitchen. "But I care about you enough to resist forbidden fruit. For both our sakes."

Feeling exalted now that he had an admission, Trenton started to shovel down his food. "Okay, I can tell you. You're what made me realize I'm gay. I liked you since... since... since before I knew what liking someone was."

"And that's the problem."

"I don't see any problem ."

"And that's because you are so heartbreakingly young and innocent."

Trenton snorted. "Clive, if you'll remember the state of those paper towels this afternoon..."

"I'm not talking physically, little stud muffinlette. You say you've been fixed on me since you really started thinking about sex." Trent nodded. "That won't do. You need to look around to see what's available. I care about people, deeply. It's even akin to love, but it's not soul mating. Who's to say? It may happen someday, but right now I'm not in the least exclusive."

"I know that. Sheesh, Clive, I've seen the number of people who go back in your private station. I'm not stupid. I can deal with that. It doesn't hurt me knowing you're with other people. It just hurts me knowing I'm not with you."

Clive wiped a piece of bread over his now bare plate, capturing the last of the sauce and popped it in his mouth. "Believe me, treasure. You're not the only one aching. For heaven's sake, will you eat? You'll give Elise a complex."

Elise's voice floated back over her shoulder. "No he won't. Ain't no insult to me if the boy don't eat because he's lovesick."

Clive raised his voice. "Eavesdroppers never hear anything good about themselves."

"You ain't discussin' me."

Trenton, who suddenly found that he was ravenous, finished his pasta in a few gulps and took his plate over to the stove. "Could I have some more, ma'am?"

She took it and began piling it again. "You can have all you want, baby. And call me Elise, save ma'am for your mama."

"I'll try, but it's not easy. Mom's a bear for being polite."

Elise handed over the laden plate. "Well, she's raisin' her a good boy. You gonna make somebody real happy someday."

Trent scowled. "I'm beginning to wonder."

They heard Clive call, "You know, the acrostics in this kitchen are really rather marvelous."

Elise laughed indulgently, nudging Trenton. "Just don't be so impatient, honey." She leaned over and whispered in Trenton's ear. "Clive... he's worth waiting for, ain't he?"

Trenton went back to the table. He managed to scoot his chair a little closer to Clive when he sat down. Clive went to the fridge and got himself a second beer. He watched Trenton working on his second plate of food, and said, "All right, Trent, let's lay the situation out. You find me attractive, as well you should. I find you attractive, which is perfectly logical. However, you are only sixteen, and I am roughly twice that. Now, in ancient Greece, this would not have been a problem. Here and now, it is."

"But couldn't we...?"

Clive made a shushing motion. "We've gone over that. Consequences to others, remember? Not to mention the fact that I wouldn't relish doing jail time. This wouldn't be a secret affair, Trenton. Don't you think other people have already noticed?" Trenton hadn't thought about that. It brought a blush to his cheeks. "Yes, like that. Lord, precious, you color up like an American Beauty rose sometimes."

"Another factor. In case you haven't noticed, Trent, I like my sex with frills. I'm a Dom. To further your education, that means Dominant. That means I call the shots--all the shots. My partners are sometimes playful mundanes, but usually they're true subs--submissives. That means they do exactly what I tell them. Anything."

Trenton suddenly felt overheated. Submission? Turning over complete control? Total surrender of body and self, not having to give any directives or orders, just experiencing? His nipples got hard at the thought. His hand was cool and damp from gripping the chilled rootbeer bottle, and he pressed it to his forehead, and across his closed eyes.

Clive noticed, and pursed his lips. He said softly, "Yes, I had a suspicion. The other problem is that I play hard, Trenton. The concept of a virgin is very sweet, very appealing. But after the length of time this particular little dance has been going on..."

He put his hand on Trent's knee, squeezing. "When this happens, and notice I said when, not if, I'm afraid I might be too... emphatic for you as a virgin, Jade Eyes. You need to get some experience under your belt." He smiled. "Horrid pun intended."

"You mean you want me to have sex with other people?"

"I think you should. Seek out someone closer to your own age. When there's a smaller age span, it isn't viewed quite so baldly. More simple diddling than corrupting."

"But I don't want anyone else."

Clive snorted. "Trent, I may be devastating, but I am not the only desirable man out there. Look, I'm not touching you till you're legal, and that's that."

"Okay, I'll look. But when I'm seventeen..."

"What happens, happens. Nothing till then."

Trenton had worked his way to the bottom of his second plate. All that was left was one long, tomato coated strand. He picked it up by the end and held it high, dangling, catching the end. He lowered half of the strand into his mouth, the closed on it, letting it drop. The strand dangled, and he sucked it slowly up into his mouth, with a muted slurping sound. Clive watched, mesmerized, as the white strand slowly disappeared between Trent's pursed, pouting lips. It disappeared, leaving his mouth smeared with tomato sauce, which he slowly and sensually licked off. Clive sighed. "You're not going to make this easy, are you?"

Trenton grinned.