"They're back in Clive's privates station." Bryant arched an eyebrow significantly, and she giggled again. "No, not like that. Well, you never can tell what's going to happen when Clive gets Trent back there."

"Bettina," his voice was teasing, "have you been peeking through keyholes?"

"No! Do you have any idea what Clive would do if he thought... Well, anyway, without permission, and..." She blinked. "You! You're teasing me. You're worse than Trenton is, Bryant." He bowed. "Anyway, I don't think they're, er, up to anything. They took one of the mannequin heads and a wig back there with them. I think Clive is coaching Trenton on some of the hairdressing techniques that aren't covered very much in cosmetology school. He says that by God anyone he takes on as an apprentice is going to have a thorough training--in everything. Everything... Well, maybe they are..."

"I get the idea, Bettina. Thanks." He started toward the back of the salon.

Her eyes got round. "You're going back there without a specific invitation? You're brave."

Bryant walked back to the private station and rapped once on the door. He heard Clive call out, "Who is it?"

"It's Bri."

"Come in, lamb--it's unlocked."

Bri went in, shutting the door after him. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but there was nothing remotely sexual going on. The mannequin head was on the counter, long blonde wig firmly in place. Trenton, wearing the traditional white cosmetology student smock, was laboring over it. He was concentrating so hard that the tip of his tongue was poking out between his teeth, and Clive was watching that with a great deal of interest. *Maybe I was wrong--maybe something sexual is going on, at least for Clive.* "Hey. What's up?"

"Trenton is learning the fine art of making pin curls," Clive answered, not looking away from his lover. Trenton had separated a long tress, no more than half as wide as his little finger, and was carefully winding it into a flat coil. "That's it, pet--go slowly. You don't want the individual strands unraveling." Trenton pinched the completed curl between thumb and forefinger and groped on the counter, scrabbling in a pile of bobby pins. "And I told you, if you'd keep one or two of those in you mouth, you wouldn't have to grope for them."

"Ew." Trenton managed to tweeze up a pin and clipped the curl.

"Those are brand new, sweetheart, and quite sanitary. We pitch them after one use--that's why they're such a significant item on our budget, and why I spanked your tushie when you made those chains to decorate the store last Christmas. It would have been cheaper to buy tinsel strands. Now, if you'd just asked..."

"Yeah, I'm sorry." Trenton was trying to scrabble up another pin, without much success. "Drat! Just cut my nails, and I don't have anything to pick up with." He gave Clive wide, puppy eyes. "Clive, would you...?"

"This time." He handed Trenton a bobby pin, then picked up several more, and poked them gently between the boy's lips. "Now, hold those!"

Trenton rolled his eyes at Bryant. "Ee ah-ays icking uh-ing ih eyeh ou."

"Say what?" said Bryant.

Clive translated. "He says that I'm always sticking something in his mouth, and he's quite right. Now, how was your day? Was Priory as much of an asshole as I think he was?" Bryant glanced at Trenton, who was again combing out a hank of hair. "No, Trenton didn't betray any confidences, and I wouldn't have asked him to. He knows that he's only to tattle in extreme cases where there might be actual danger involved, and apparently it hasn't reached that stage yet. You're free to tell me to butt out, of course, but my submissive is going to be in the vicinity of a lot of your interaction with that clod, and I'd like to know what's going on."

Bryant sat down in the chair. "Nothing much, Clive. Just what you'd expect. He's still mega-pissed with me, and that isn't likely to go away any time soon. He got me back in the locker room for a little more accusation and verbal abuse. Oh, and he offered to take me back, if I was properly humble. I didn't laugh in his face, but it was a temptation." He shrugged. "He hinted around about making trouble for me, but nothing specific."

"Hm. Well, if he ever does get specific, you go straight to the police. There's such a thing as terroristic threats, and I have a few friends on the force who would take the complaint very seriously."

Bryant lifted his eyebrows, smiling. "Cop friends?"

"My dear, uniforms and handcuffs--how could some of them not be 'our kind'?"

"Good to know." Bryant folded his hands over his belly, watching as Trenton carefully rolled up another curl. "Just out of curiosity, who the heck wears pin curls these days?"

"Either our more *cough* mature customers, or someone going for a retro look. There was a revival of a 1930s musical a couple of years ago, and I taught their hairdresser how to do these. They looked fabulous."

"Wouldn't expect any less from you, Clive."

He bowed. "Dear, I've picked up a couple of change of address forms for you, if you need them. I seriously doubt that Lowell would be good enough to forward any mail to you."

Bryant frowned. "Not really. There was never anything in my name, so I don't have to worry about notifying utilities, magazines, or stuff. Just the Uni, and I can go into Student Affairs to do that tomorrow." He sighed. "You know, when I'm ready to get my own place, it's really going to be a bitch. Since I don't have any record of payments, I'm going to have to have a security deposit for every utility I get turned on."

"No, you won't. They waive that if you have someone willing to sign on as a reference, and I'll be happy to do that."

"I hate to ask you. I really, really want to be responsible for myself."

"You will, Bryant, and you're not asking--I'm offering. I have no doubt that once you get your feet under you, you will have absolutely no trouble standing alone."

"Okay, what do you think?" Trenton stood back from the dummy head.

Clive inspected it thoroughly. "Not bad for a first effort. But look here, darling--see how you've gotten a bit of a clump in this section? I think you were standing in that one spot too much. Remember to move about as you need to--a good hairdo must be observed from all angles."

Trenton nodded, expression free of disappointment or hurt. Bryant reflected that a lot of people, upon receiving a less than glowing appraisal from someone they admired, would have been disappointed. Trenton, on the other hand, knew Clive well enough to know that there would be no false flattery, especially not when it came to something as vital as hair dressing. But he also knew that he would receive instruction rather than criticism. Clive would never just belittle his efforts--he would offer constructive comments.

Trenton had started to unpin some of the curls, ready to correct his mistake, but Clive stopped him. "No, dear, leave it. We'll check it tomorrow, and you'll see what I mean. There's nothing like an object lesson. Tidy up the area, like a good boy, and we'll go on home."

Trenton grinned at Bryant. "Mom's going dancing with Henderson tonight, so I get to sleep over at Clive's." He twirled a bobby pin between his fingers. "It's as much for her as it is for me. She knows that if I'm with Clive, she can invite Henderson in for an *ahem* nightcap."

"I'd tell you not to be so saucy about your mother's love life, if I didn't know how delighted Lynette is," said Clive. "Work. Come along, Bri. I want to have a little talk away from the brat."

They left Trenton tidying the station, and went into Clive's office. Clive shut the door as Bryant sat down. Then, instead of also sitting, Clive began to pace, going back and forth across the narrow space before the desk, hands clasped behind his back. Bryant waited quietly for the Dom to decide to speak. Finally Clive perched on the edge of his desk. "I want to ask your opinion on something."

"Shoot."

"How do you feel about May/December romances?"

Bryant didn't answer immediately. He gave the question careful consideration. *He's not referring to Priory and me--he'd hardly classify that as a romance.* "Well, it depends. Some are doomed, but others work--and work well."

"There can be a lot of crap involved in them, from the outside, I mean."

"Yeah, but you can say the same about almost any relationship. I'm sure that even Barbie and Ken have their detractors."

"God, I should hope so, precious! Imagine, only smooth plastic where the fun bits should be. It's just that even when a situation isn't illegal, it can still be viewed askance by society."

"Clive," Bryant said quietly, "I never would have thought you'd give a damn about what society thought."

"I wouldn't, dear--but I'm not the only one who'd be involved."

Bryant smiled, "Well, if Trenton is the May, I have to say that I don't picture you as December. Maybe a really vigorous late July, or mid-August."

"Flatterer." He sighed. "He's eighteen, Bryant, and I'm thirty-eight, and if you tell anyone that, you'll suffer. I'm more than twice his age."

Bryant sat forward. "Some people are old before they're thirty, and some people just flat fucking don't age. You're one of them, Clive. I can tell. You're gonna look pretty much the same for the next twenty years..." He smiled. "Unless you decline to use your own talents, and go gracefully gray. But it's not just physical, and you know it. It's something inside, the attitude. Take Havasnark." He laughed. "I'm pretty sure she wishes you would. They're going to have to nail that little woman in her coffin to get her to go, and even then I bet she makes the daisies over her grave dance. Anyway, why are you asking me this? You and Trenton have been lovers for a year already."

Clive took a deep breath. "Yes. But there are different stages to everything. I find that I have been contemplating a step I've never taken before, and it's one that may lead to another that I thought I'd never consider." He looked down at his toes. "I've been thinking about asking Trenton to move in with me." Bryant was silent, and Clive glanced up at him. "Well?"

"Yes."

Clive smiled faintly. "Not feeling very equivocal today?"

"Clive, it's right--that's all there is to it. It's as right as what I had with Priory was wrong. Anyone who sees you two together for any amount of time can tell. Why are you hesitating?"

"He's just so young. Oh, yes, he's a man now--I've watched him grow from a boy, and believe me, I'm very aware of that. But all that time before, he was his mother's son, then he became my lover, and now... Now I'd be asking him to become something else, but something that was still mine. He's never been just his own person."

"You're wrong there." Clive arched an eyebrow. "Yeah, not used to being contradicted, are you? But you're wrong. Trenton is very much his own person. Clive, the boy knows exactly what he wants. Didn't you tell me that he targeted you when he was fourteen, and stayed right on course for three years? Is this someone who doesn't know their own mind? No, Trenton is his own man, but he chooses to give himself to you. He loves you, man, and he knows he's safe with you. He wants to belong. I'm gonna admit, after the crap I've been through with Priory, I can't feel that way about anyone. I may never be able to. I need the independence, but that's me. Stop and think, Clive. Could you be hurting him by insisting on giving him what you think is acceptable to society, instead of what he really needs?"

Clive's expression darkened. "You know, Bryant, I pushed him to be independent once before. I insisted that he go away from me for awhile, experience new places, experience different people." He closed his eyes briefly, and a flicker of bone deep pain and sorrow passed over his face. "Something very bad happened to him then. I've damned myself to hell countless times for letting that happen to him." He gave a ragged laugh. "I have friends who've told me I shouldn't feel like that--that I couldn't have known, that I couldn't have prevented it." His voice hardened. "But they're wrong. He didn't want to leave me, and I made him. And he was hurt. I made a vow then that I was never going to let anything or anyone hurt him again."

He looked at Bryant, and there was no hint of his usual wry humor. "I call him precious all the time, but he really IS precious to me. I'd convinced myself that I might love a number of people, but I was never going to be in love." He smiled. "Aren't I a silly nit? I think I was a goner the second I saw him standing there in front of my counter, looking up at me with those improbable eyes."

"Well, if that's the case, don't you think that it's time you admitted it? You've been waiting even longer than Trenton did."

Clive nodded slowly. "Thank you, Bryant."

Bryant snorted. "For what? For confirming something you already knew in your heart?"

"Something like that."

Bryant stood up. "There's no class tomorrow. Tell you what, Clive--don't expect me home till way late tonight--possibly in the wee small hours. I may go see a movie after work, if there's anything good at the all night theater."

"And if there isn't?"

He shrugged, smiling slyly. "I may be able to find a better option before I leave Lavender's Green. There's been a number of ladies and gentlemen who've mentioned something about taking me to a good show. Or was that showing me a good time?"