William woke up and blinked sleepily. He was seeing everything through a very faint pink haze. *Did I get romantic last night and pull that Sensual Woman, 'drape a lamp with a colored scarf for romantic lighting' bit?* There was a snuffling beside his ear, and he smiled. *Oh, yeah--Chase.* Chase was lying face down on top of him, chin resting on his shoulder, with his still faintly pink hair falling across William's eyes. His left arm was beneath Chase's body, and William curved it up and over, embracing the young man. Chase made a sleepy, purring sound, and William smiled again. Yes, he'd done something romantic last night.

William turned his head slightly and whispered into the pink fluff. "Sweetheart, when my arm goes to sleep, it doesn't get rested."

"Hmm... sorry," Chase murmured. He wasn't quite ready to give up his position, though. Eyes still closed, he shifted slightly, so that only his head was lying on William's arm. Then he yawned, daintily covering his mouth. William snickered, and Chase knew what had amused him. Voice faintly stern he said, "My mother does not allow yawning, farting, or burping with impunity. She sees them as rude rather than manly, and I darn sure better do the Emily Post thing when they happen."

"I think our mothers would have liked each other," said William.

"You don't mention your parents much," said Chase. "Was that because you were being mysterious about your actual state in life, or do you have unpleasant memories?" Chase opened sleepy blue eyes, regarding him seriously, without a hint of amusement. "Tell me to fuck off if I'm out of line, but I'm interested in you. I'd like to hear whatever you're willing to tell me."

William hugged Chase. "You're a people person, Chaser." He sighed. "If by unpleasant you mean 'dysfunctional'--no, not really. I didn't see as much of my dad while I was growing up as I'd have liked. He was busy building the empire, and we didn't have him at home much except for weekends and holidays. He was good about that, though. He never missed a major holiday, and I know that it cost him a little in business. And he came to a lot of my important events, too. Athletic meets, plays, recitals..."

"Recitals?" Now playfulness peeked through. "Dance or music?"

"Oh, lord. I shouldn't have mentioned that. Now I'll never hear the end of it. I took voice and piano lessons till I left for college."

"Ooo, you've been hiding your talent," Chase crooned. "You know what this means, don't you?"

"I'm afraid to guess."

"Karaoke."

"Take me now, lord."

Chase slapped his chest, smiling. "I can make you love it. Now, don't use that as an excuse. You were telling me about your family."

"Okay. Like I said, Dad wasn't exactly absentee. He was with us every Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter, and he almost never missed my birthday. The great thing was that he really listened to me when he was with me. I don't think he ever gave me one of those gifts that everyone thinks you should want, but doesn't mean a thing to you. You know what I mean, right?"

"Yes. It would be sort of like giving a woman who'd just joined PETA a mink coat."

William laughed. "Not quite that bad, but you know what I mean. On graduation from highschool most of my friends got brand new sports or luxury cars. Dad surprised me with the Thunderbird--in it's original condition. I worked all through college to get it restored, and it means more to me because of that. He... He got it, you know?"

Chase turned his head, studying William's face, and asked quietly, "Did he understand about the gay thing, too?"

William sighed. "Understood, yes. Accepted? He never stopped hoping that I was bisexual instead of gay, and some day I'd meet the right woman, get married, and provide heirs. I told you before that I kept getting introduced to girls from the country club..."

Chase's eyes widened. "Yes, you did say that, and I didn't catch the hint. How many people of my financial status are ever at country clubs except as staff or to attend a rich friend's wedding?"

"Mom was a little better. She never wanted to discuss that side of my life, but she didn't keep trying to set me up with her friend's daughters, either. I think she just decided to pretend that I was prepubescent, and hadn't developed a sexual side yet." He shrugged. "A lot of mothers are like that, even with their straight kids. That's pretty much it. Both Mom and Dad were only children, so I never had the aunts, uncles, and cousins thing."

"Too bad. Relatives can be a hoot."

"I've got that impression from listening to you. I want to meet your uncle Mortimer some day."

"Yes, he'd like you." Chase squinted up at the ceiling and started reciting. "Okay, I'll list the blood relatives first, then the spouses. Uncle Mortimer and Aunt Deedee, cousins Regal, Angelo, Joshua, Cherry, and Billie. Uncle Clark and Aunt Deborah and cousin Bryant. Aunt Cecily and Uncle Ruggle, and cousins Maggie and Taffy. Uncle Willie and Aunt Markie, cousins Sarah, Duo, and Trinity. And Aunt Jocelyn and cousin Philbert."

"No uncle in the last family?"

"Nope. No death, she just wanted a kid and went out and had one. Never has told us who the daddy was, but we have a few guesses. Two or three local men either turn green when they see her and Philbert, and occasionally checks and birthday or holiday presents turn up in the mail. I have a feeling that if Philbert ever gets really good at sports, he's going to find several proud potential daddies. Should make the family reunions even more interesting."

"That's some family."

"You have no idea. When I was growing up I couldn't remember everyone unless I sat down with a paper and pencil. They're a terrific bunch. All of them except Uncle Ruggle--he's an asshole, but he's not blood, and he's decent to the girls." Chase sighed. "Well, there has to be one in every large family, I suppose. Considering the odds, we've done quite well." Chase snuggled his face against William's neck. "If you're around me long enough, you're going to hear a lot of family anecdotes."

"Fine by me. What do you want for breakfast?"

"Whatever I can find in your kitchen."

"I thought I'd fix it."

Chase turned, planted his hands on William's chest, and did a half-push up, so that he was looking down at his lover. "You think that, do you? Honey, I've practically been itching all over to get a chance to work in that room. Tell me, are you expecting Mrs. Fieldstone any time soon?"

William glanced at the clock on his bedside table. "It's not quite eight. She said she'd be in late. That means she won't show up till ten o'clock."

"Good. I'd hate to give that nice lady a shock, but I'm feeling a bit seventies-ish today."

"Seventies-ish?"

"Streaking." Chase hopped out of bed and trotted out of the bedroom before William could react.

William clapped a hand over his eyes, laughing, and called, "She'd probably applaud, once she stopped gaping." William wasn't quite as casual as Chase, so he got into a pair of sweats before he followed the young man out to the kitchen. By the time he got there Chase was mixing a bowl full of creamy looking batter, and there was a griddle heating on the stovetop.

William entered and peered over Chase's should. "I think that the batter Mrs. Fieldstone fixes is more yellow than that."

"That's because she uses what's in that box I found in your pantry. This..." he pointed to an open canister, milk jug, and two egg shells, "is from many containers."

"Chase, are you sure you should be doing that naked?"

"Does it bother you for sanitary, or other reasons?"

"I'm just worried that you might hurt yourself."

"Dear, I'm not built along the lines to put anything significant into danger." He squatted slightly and wiggled his behind, making his genitals bounce and swing.

That made William laugh, but he said, "I'm serious, babe. Should you be doing that?"

"How many times have you gotten anything but your hands close enough to the flame to feel heat?"

William thought about it. "You know, I can't think of any."

"If I was frying bacon, that would be another matter entirely. Make yourself useful and clean that up, please."

"Yes, sir."

William threw away trash, put away packages, and took a damp cloth to the counters while Chase ran a couple of pats of butter over the griddle. It hissed and melted as Chase said, "A long central burner specifically for heating griddles. Can I live in this room?"

"You're easy to please, and I'm glad you told me that. I had no idea what that thing in the middle was for."

Chase ladled spoonfuls of batter onto the griddle, spreading it thin. "Poor, ignorant sweetie. I'll get you educated eventually about all things culinary."

William came up behind him, put his hands on Chase's waist, and squeezed. "Looks like I'm getting the best of this relationship. All this..." he squeezed Chase's ass, "and an education, too."

Chase tipped him a coy look over his shoulder. "It works out. You've opened up a whole new field of learning for me, too, you know."

"Have I?" He bit Chase lightly on the shoulder.

"Stop that. If you get me distracted, I might burn our breakfast. I could always cook more, but I have a feeling that you have a smoke alarm hooked right into the fire station, and I don't want a lot of big, sweaty, uniformed men seeing me naked." He gave a mock gasp. "What am I saying? No, acutally, Will, you are teaching me. You know that, don't you? Before I've been mainstream, if you can call someone who's gay that. I've been gay mainstream. I only ever caught glimpses of your scene. I've been intrigued..." he neatly flipped the pancakes over. "You should see me with a non-stick omlette pan. I can flip them like I should be working in a logging camp. Oo, big sweaty men in flannel! As I was saying... Put those plates over here. As I was saying, I was intrigued, but I never got up the never to actually explore."

William had moved the butter dish over to the small kitchen table, and was getting maple syrup and honey from the cabinet. "I'm glad. I wouldn't want you to miss anything, babe, but I'm glad that I'm getting to be your guide."

Chase had piled the last pancake on a plate. Now he picked up both of the laden dishes and carried them to the table, pausing to stand on tip-toe before William. Smiling, William bent his head, and Chase stretched up, kissing him on the nose. "Me, too. Now, while a cold pancake can be delicious in its own way, these are meant to be eaten while hot." He set the plates down so that he and William would be sitting around the corner from each other.

"Sit down and I'll get us something to drink. Milk?" said William.

"Yes, please. One thing my mother taught me--orange juice with maple syrup tastes bitter. It's the contrast of the acid, I think. And you know, as much as I like citrus, it took me a long time to get to where I could with confidence eat anything I knew contained citric acid." He wrinkled his nose. "I paid too much attention in chemistry class to be comfortable with ingesting anything called ‘acid'."

William had poured two glasses of milk, and now he brought them over. "You're a strange boy, Chaser--I love that in you."

"Thank you." William sat down and without consulting they both folded their hands and bowed their heads for a quick grace. When it was done Chase picked up his fork, saying, "This is cozy. Aren't we just an almost Ozzie and Harriet vision of domestic bliss." William leaned over, pointedly scoping Chase's naked crotch. "Besides that, silly. And you never know what they got up to. They had two kids, didn't they?"

William started eating. "I was just wondering. Do you feel a little... off? I mean, saying grace while you're... um..."

"While I'm exactly as God made me? Why should I? He's seen me like this more often than anyone else in this world. And let me tell you, honey, there are quite a few times when a person needs to pray while they're naked. We won't go into that, though." He batted his eyelashes at William. "Not breakfast conversation, not even by my standards."

They began to eat. The conversation was idle, comfortable. Neither felt the need to impress the other. It was mid-October, and Chase was telling William about autumn in the country. "It's just so Americana that you could die." He swabbed a morsel of pancake through the mingled butter and syrup on his plate, then popped it in his mouth. He paused to chew ("Mom would drive all the way up here to rank me out if she found out I'd talked with my mouth full.") "I mean, Norman Rockwell, big time. There are corn huskings, can you believe it? In this day and age--corn huskings. Of course it isn't to help people prepare their crops, like it used to be. Now it's just an excuse for a party and a chance to eat fresh corn on the cob. But they do apple bobbing, too. Oh, and we have a variation. Instead of splashing around in a tub of water the apples are hung on a string and you have to try to eat them down to the core without using your hands. I sincerely wish I had some video of those contests. I could make a mint on America's Funniest Home Videos."

"What do you do out there for Halloween?" asked William. "I can't picture trick or treating with those distances between houses."

"All the little kids are brought into town on Halloween afternoon, and the parents take them around at about dusk. All the shop owners on Mainstreet stand outside their shops to hand out candy." Chase sighed. "If you try to trick or treat past the age of about ten they consider you too old. They'll shoo you away instead of giving you treats, and try to shame you into giving it up." He made a face. "It kills me. The teenagers are allowed to dress up, but what else can they do? They can have a party. Well, almost all the adults are out escorting kids or giving out candy, so there's never any supervision. That means a wild party, and they get in trouble. Or they can go out and roam around together. You know what teenagers in packs are capable of. That means pranks and vandalism, and that gets them in trouble. So the adults go on about how rotten teenagers are when all they had to do to keep them in line is hand them some bubble gum and stupid peanut butter kisses without whining about them being a couple of years too old. That's one thing I've loved about moving to the city." He smiled. "I've been able to take back Halloween."

"Oh, I bet you do it up right," said William.

"How about you?"

"Not since college, I'm afraid. Wait–I lie. There have been a couple of organized fancy dress balls. Not costume parties–fancy dress balls. For charity, or networking. It's not the same as a good, old fashioned Halloween costume party, though."

"What did you go as?" asked Chase. "A super hero? I can definitely see you in spandex."

"No. Once I was Zorro..."

"Oo, black, black, black, and a mask! Did you carry a whip?" he cooed.

"As a matter of fact, I did." He gave Chase a slightly evil smile. "I have a friend in my social club who taught me how to use it."

Chase's eyes got wide. "You fascinate me, sir."

"Then another time I was a caveman. That one was simple–just some fake fur, a wig, an animal tooth necklace, and some make-up smudges."

Chase fanned himself. "I'd have paid to see that. Where did you get the necklace?"

"I have a friend who's in taxidermy."

"Oh, ick."

"Yeah, a little creepy, but he's a nice guy..." William lifted his head alertly. "Oops."

"Hm?"

"You know how I said Mrs. Fieldstone probably wouldn't be in till around ten?"

"Yes, and I hope..."

"I was wrong."

*jingle*

Chase's head whipped around. The jingle had been the sound of keys hitting the floor. Mrs. Fieldstone was standing just inside the kitchen door, staring, open-mouthed. "Oh, dear lord." Chase tried to curl up into a fetal position while still sitting in his chair.

Mrs. Fieldstone cleared her throat. "I... uh... I think I need to go back to the car. I left... something." She turned and hurried out, and they heard the front door shut.

William bent toward Chase. "In case you didn't get that, it's your cue to haul your cute butt back to the bedroom and get it covered up."

Chase sprang up and ran out of the room, gasping, "I just hope she has a strong heart and a good sense of humor."

William managed to keep from breaking down in laughter till he heard the bedroom door slam. He was slumped weakly in his chair, chuckling, when Mrs. Fieldstone returned. He started laughing again when she cautiously peeked around the corner. "You didn't think he'd still be sitting here, did you?"

She came into the room. "I didn't know what to think. Except that it's a good thing that front door doesn't lock on its own." She bent and picked her keys up off the floor. "Because without these I'd have had to knock to be let in. Come to think of it, I should have done that, anyway. Sorry about that."

"Don't mention it. I should have made him put some pants on, but he's just so gosh darn cute."

She smiled, setting her purse on the counter. "He is. He has the prettiest skin I've ever seen on anyone–male or female. I'm not going to ask if you two had a good evening." William winked at her. "You're a wicked man, but I think he's a match for you. Do you think he'll come back out of the bedroom, or should I go somewhere for a little while?"

"I think he'll recover. You know, I didn't have any idea you'd come in till I heard your footsteps in the hall."

"Well, I was trying to be quiet. I thought that you boys might be sleeping late." She smiled. "Guess I was wrong." She bit her lip, eyeing William.

Amused, William said, "Say whatever it is before you bust."

Her eyes flicked in the direction of the bedroom, and she said quickly, "I thought you'd have worn each other out." Then she blushed.

William smirked. "We did, pretty much, but that cheesecake gave us a little extra sugar energy to work with."

She'd noticed the bowl and utensils in the sink, and went over to begin rinsing. "He cooked for you?"

"He certainly did, and I didn't even ask him to."

"You need to hold on to him. You don't know how many times I'm at home, setting supper in front of my husband, and thinking about you here eating a cold sandwich or a frozen dinner."

"I can get all my nutritional needs met by those dinners..."

She snorted. "God never intended for man to live off nothing but frozen, processed food. Besides, you try to find a decent Salisbury steak in the freezer section."

"You're right about that." Chase sidled into the kitchen. His cheeks were faintly pink, but he met Mrs. Fieldstone's eyes. "I'm... Um... I'm sorry..."

She waved her hand. "Please. I know what a naked man looks like, and it's not like you were deliberately flashing me." She grinned. "Actually, it was a nice way to wake up quickly--better than coffee."

Chase smiled at her almost shyly, and tipped his head toward William. "He said you'd applaud."

"I couldn't get my hands to work fast enough," she said blandly. "You noticed that I dropped my keys. Unless I've scared the appetite out of you, you should finish your pancakes. Would you boys like some bacon? I'm assuming that you passed on that due to attire–or rather lack of it."

"If it wouldn't be too much trouble, I'd love a few rashers. I'm a farm boy, and we believe in our pork products."

"Ever have to slop the hogs?" said William playfully.

"You better believe it," Chase shot back. "I raised a hog for 4 H my junior year, and I took third place in the state competition." He sighed. "I was going to use the prize money to attend cooking school, but the pipes at home really needed to be replaced before they went through another winter. Mom wasn't going to let me, but I signed the check over to the plumber before she could stop me." He was busy eating, so he didn't see the soft look that Mrs. Fieldstone gave him.

"You know, I hadn't thought about this before," said William, "but does your mother cook her own livestock?"

"Oh, yes. Well, these days she only does it if she's bored, but she can take a chicken from the hen yard to the serving platter. While Daddy was alive we had a working smoke house, but when he died I was too young to take over the slaughtering..." He wrinkled his nose. "Of course I'd rather have my Dad, but I'm just as glad that I never had to learn. I've seen it--once. I didn't faint, but I came close. It's the actual killing and dressing I can't handle. The butchering..." He noticed William's flat look. "Oh, hon, I'm sorry! I told you there were some things that shouldn't be talked about at breakfast, but since that's always been just another part of my life, I didn't think."

"You're a man of contrasts, Chase," said William. He shot a glance at Mrs. Fieldstone, who was carefully turning strips of sizzling bacon. Leaning close to Chase he whispered, "Was this one of them?"

"One of what?"

"One of the times you should pray when you're naked?"

Chase giggled. "Most definitely. There was some praying going on, but this was one of the times God said ‘no'. No, Chase, you may not have a sink hole open up to swallow you."

Chase was happily munching a crisp strip of bacon. "My compliments to the chef."

Mrs. Fieldstone made a very short raspberry. "As if anyone who pays attention couldn't cook decent bacon."

"I can't," said William. "Mine always curl and end up like pinwheels. Then I have parts that are soft and nasty, and parts that are charred."

"That's because you don't think to slash the rind in a few places," said Mrs. Fieldstone.

"Oo!" Chase waved his hand. "Now, if you had a bacon press you wouldn't have to worry about that."

"What's a bacon press?"

Chase looked at the housekeeper, and she said, "Don't look at me. It isn't my job to educate him."

Chase turned back to William. "It's basically a flat, heavy piece of cast iron with a handle on top–looks sort of like an old fashioned flat iron. You just set it down on top of the bacon and the weight holds down the strips. They cook all flat and even. Less spattering, too. We have a couple at the diner, and if I wasn't an honest person, one of them would have followed me home. It's on my list of things to get." He giggled. "I'd better start collecting them, so I'll have a trousseau."

"I bet you want those little egg corral doomaflaches that let you make perfectly round fried eggs, too."

"I wouldn't mind, but I've seen some that are heart shaped."

Mrs. Fieldstone had opened a short, metal canister and was tipping the frying pan over it, pouring the grease into it. "Fieldy, what on earth are you doing?"

"I love you, but you're ignorant," said Chase before he could answer. "She's saving the bacon drippings."

William made a face. "Why?"

Mrs. Fieldstone rolled her eyes, and again Chase answered for her. "Because for one thing if you pour it in the trash it can melt the bag, if you pour it on the ground it's dangerous, if you pour it in the sink it will clog your pipes, and if you pour it in the toilet ditto, plus it's just plain nasty. And besides, it makes one of the best flavorings for vegetables and such that you're ever going to find."

"Doesn't it spoil?"

Mrs. Fieldstone spoke quickly, before Chase could. "If it sat long enough it might, but we use it quickly, and besides–how much preservative is there in bacon to start with? My grandmother went through the depression, and if I threw away perfectly good bacon drippings she'd crawl out of her grave to tan my behind." She put the lid on the canister and set it aside, then took the pan to the sink and began to wash it. "Now, I'm set to cook your eggs tomorrow and a nice pan of green beans for your supper. Speaking of which, two for lunch today?"

William slouched back in his chair. "Chase, it's up to you. You want to have lunch in today, or would you like to go out?"

"Oh, decisions, decisions." Chase's tone was weary, but he was smiling. "In the old fifties dating films the one who asks makes suggestions."

"Well..." William rolled his eyes up. "It's too cool to go swimming. There's a good restaurant at the museum, and I think you'd like the Greek statuary exhibition. Orrr..." he said casually, "they have a carnival over at Tillson Park." Chase sat bolt upright, eyes shining. "Yeah, I thought so."

"It isn't that I don't love art. I'm a little cultural maven, I am. It's just that we had a couple of carnivals a year back home, and I haven't been to one since I moved here." He wiggled. "I can smell the corn dogs and popcorn now."

"Chase, you just got through stuffing yourself."

"I can talk about it, can't I? And besides, there are some places you go where you have to eat certain things. I can have a Thanksgiving feast, but if I go to the movies right after, I have to have my popcorn, even if I burst."

"Well, I guess I can understand that. Popcorn is a part of going to the movies."

"And Jujubees."

"Jujubees?"

"Or Goobers. I can't find the Jordan Almonds anymore."

Mrs. Fieldstone was watching him with amused near amazement. "You eat like that all the time?"

"Most of the time."

She shook her head. "Why aren't you as round as you are tall?"

Chase smiled smugly. "High metabolism."

"You're lucky you're cute, or I'd have to hate you on general principles."

"Chase, we ought to go change, if we're going to be able to spend a decent amount of time at the carnival."

"Yes!" Chase bounced up and scurried toward out of the kitchen, tossing back over his shoulder, "I actually brought a long sleeved shirt. Wasn't I foresightful?"

When he was gone Mrs. Fieldstone said, "I know he can move at a walk–I saw him do it last night."

"But it's not his preferred speed." Mrs. Fieldstone was drying the frying pan. She opened her mouth, then closed it. "What?"

She shook her head. "Nothing."

"No, you were going to say something. What is it?"

"It's not my place."

He slapped his thighs. "Oh, don't give me that! Please. You sound like Upstairs, Downstairs, or Jeeves and Booster, or something. C'mon, you know me better than that."

"But I'm not sure I know you well enough to say this. And it's nothing important–it's just something that sort of flashed across my mind."

"Spill it, or I'll have Chase giggle you to death."

She smiled faintly. "It's just that for a minute there you two reminded me of my oldest girl and her boyfriend when they first started courting."

William laughed. "Let me guess who I reminded you of."

"Yes. And Tracy was just as giddy and bubbly as Chase is."

William's smile became a little more serious. "So how did it turn out for them?"

She turned away to hide her smile. "I'll answer that with a question. What's the traditional gift for a tenth wedding anniversary?"

They heard the music right about the time they spotted the top of the double Ferris wheel. It was a jumble of at least a half dozen different tunes–everything from organ music, through rock and roll, to zydeco. Traffic wasn't really bad, but it had been growing steadily thicker while they approached the fairgrounds. They finally slowed to a crawl on the final block. "Looks like there's going to be a good crowd, even this early. Good thing we didn't wait any later, or we'd be sitting still. I'm glad this is Saturday," said William. "If it was a weekday, we'd have to wait till three to get in."

"Well," said Chase judiciously, "You can't expect them to keep it open unless they have a chance of getting fair traffic flow. Besides, it's like the movies–it's a lot more fun if there's a crowd." They were driving slowly through the fair ground's parking lot, looking for an open space. Chase hugged William's arm. "And it's even better fun if you have someone you really like with you." "I'm looking forward to this almost as much as you are," said William. It's been longer between carnivals for me than for you. The last one I made it to was, oh, about five years ago. And it wasn't a real, honest-to-God traveling carnival. One of the local church's had a charity carnival, and I contributed some prizes for the booths–just Tshirts, novelty pencils and erasers, stuff like that."

"Kids love stuff like that," Chase assured him. "Mainly because they're usually the prizes they can actually win."

"Anyway, the only food they had was a potluck supper by the church ladies, and that just isn't the same as carnival food. And they only had about five rides. Those looked so rickety that I made the committee insist on seeing proof of inspection before they let anyone ride them. Hey! There's someone going to their car." He brought the car to a stop and idled while the man opened his car door, then rummaged in it, took something out, and shut the door again. William slapped the wheel. "Damn it! We've been driving around for ten minutes."

"There were some spaces back there."

"I don't feel like walking half a mile before I'm even in the fair. Fuck it." William sped up. At the end of the aisle he turned up the side lane toward the fair.

"Where are you going? If there aren't spaces back here there are hardly likely to be any closer... Well, I'll be. There are about a half dozen empty slots. Why on earth...?"

William had again slowed to a stop. A man had been sitting in a lawn chair off to one side. He was wearing an apron with deep pockets. He got up and strolled over to the Thunderbird while William rolled down the window. "How much?"

The man bent down. "Five for two hours. Ten and you can park it here till we close, if you want."

"Fine." William was pulling out his wallet.

Chase caught his arm. "Will, ten dollars to park?"

"Chase, how many rooms are there in my house?" Chase let go, and William handed over a ten, then pulled into the first empty space and shut off the engine. "Babe, I'm not a spendthrift. This is going to save me enough aggravation to make it worth the price."

"I'm sure that my feet will thank you before the day is through."

The cacophony of fair sounds washed over them as they got out of the car. The music mixed with the sound of well over a hundred people chattering, laughing, and screaming in excitement as their rides racket along.. The air was crisp and cool, and it carried a rich mixture of aromas. There was the hot fat smell of cooking corndogs (like Chase had reminisced about) and funnel cakes, the scent of frying onions, and popcorn. There was also an earthy aroma that reminded William of fertilizer.

William glanced over and saw that Chase was almost bouncing with excitement. He was about to say something to him when another sound rose over the others. It was a scream, but not like the happy shrieks coming from the roller coaster. No this was frantic, piercing. It sounded like someone was either terrified out of their wits, or being skinned alive. "What the hell?" William whipped out his cell phone, and started to dial 911. "There must've been some sort of accident! I'll..."

Chase grabbed the phone from him. "No, don't bother them."

The screaming continued. "But Chase, listen to that."

"I am. God, it makes me feel nostalgic." When he saw William's expression he said, "You don't recognize that? Oh, of course you don't. Well, I do. That, my dear William, is a very, very pissed off pig."

"What?"

"Judging from the intensity and how long it's going on, I'd say that he's getting a bath."

"But it sounds like a human being killed."

"Oh, they act like they're being killed, all right."

"How do you know?"

"Experience. Remember, I told you that I raised a hog my junior year. Well, Petunia most definitely got a good wash before she went into competition, and she didn't like it one little bit. I wore earplugs." Chase clapped his hands. "So this means that they're displaying stock! I want to go see if they have rabbits and lambs."

They started walking toward the fair proper. "At least that explains the funky scent," said William.

"Funky? That's nothing at all. Try mucking out after a few dairy cows sometimes. Now you want rank? We had a bobcat trying to claim our back yard as his territory once, and you've never smelled anything till you've smelled wildcat urine." Chase held his nose and rolled his eyes. "I'd rather huff straight ammonia. It's because they're carnivores."

"I'm learning all kinds of things from you."

There was a ticket booth right at the edge of the grounds. William purchased two all day bracelets–twenty five dollars each. Chase made shocked faces, but didn't protest, and he allowed William to fasten the plastic strip around his wrist. When he was done, William held Chase's hand for a moment longer. He turned his hand over and stroked the inside of Chase's wrist, saying, "I'd like to put a set of cuffs on you some day. I can't decide if you'd look better in something dainty, like your usual accessories, or something brutal, to accentuate the fineness of you hands and feet."

Chase shivered. "William, don't talk to me like that when we're so close to the kiddie rides. It just doesn't feel decent."

William arched an eyebrow as he released Chase's hand. "But I so seldom have decent thoughts about you, Chaser."

William's voice was serious, and Chase felt his pulse speed up. But this wasn't the time or place to have this sort of conversation, so he looked for a distraction. "Funnel cakes!" He darted away, making a bee line for a small, freestanding booth.

William smiled, shaking his head as he followed. He purchased one of the ropey, golden brown pastries and waited while Chase dithered over toppings–cinnamon sugar, powdered sugar, maple syrup, or honey. Chase finally settled on honey. William made sure to take several wet naps from the box on the counter before they walked away. They were needed, because their fingers and mouths got liberally smeared as they ate and walked while Chase tried to decide which ride he wanted to go on first.

He finally settled on the Alpine Sleighride. They sat in the ornate sleigh-car, William on the outside, since he was the largest and heaviest. The platform that the cars sat on started to spin, following their wavy, up and down path, faster and faster. The wisdom of the seating was proved as the centrifugal force plastered Chase against William. Even had the young man wished to, he wouldn't have been able to pry himself away, and both of them were perfectly happy with the situation. Chase squealed and laughed through the whole ride, and when the carny operator yelled the traditional, "Do you want to go faster?" he'd made an enthusiastic assent.

After that they shared cotton candy, William teasing Chase for insisting on a lavender ball of fluff. "I'd have thought you'd want one to match that rinse job you had."

Chase showed William the lilac blob he'd pulled off the cone, and said, "Don't you be too sure you'll never see this shade sitting on top of my head, and I don't mean as a Gay Pride baseball cap."

They rode the Tilt-a-Whirl next. Chase firmly refused to get into the Salt-n-Pepper Shakers. "Good God, no, dear, and you're not getting me on that big ass roller coaster.. I don't bungee jump, either. Oh, my God! Ponies!"

Chase was off again. This time he raced over to where a half dozen Shetland ponies of various colors were harnessed to a large wheel, trudging patiently in a circle with delighted (or squalling) children on their backs. William trotted after him, calling, "You have to be kidding!" He caught up with Chase at the ride, saying, "Look, I know you'‘re not exactly a stork in the legs department, but you'd still pretty much have to walk if you mounted one of those."

"Please, I have better sense. Besides, I wouldn't submit one of those sweet beasts to my weight. I just want to see them." There was one pony, this one wearing a more ornate saddle and fancy tack, tethered to the side. It was a beautiful little black and white pinto, mane and tail long and silky, obviously well cared for. A woman was sitting beside it in a lawn chair (William had seen so many of those that he was beginning to wonder if he shouldn't look into getting into patio furniture). There was a sign nearby that read PICTURES $3.00, $5.00.

Chase went over and admired the little horse. "He's a beauty. He..." He frowned, then bent over and peered under the horse. "Yes, he." The woman chuckled. "What's his name?"

"We call him Tennessee," said the woman.

"Does that mean he's a racer?" asked William.

"No. It means I used to watch a lot of cartoons."

When William looked blank, Chase told the woman, "He's a nice man, but he's led a sheltered life. It's for his coloring–black and white. It's from Tennessee Tuxedo, isn't it?" She nodded in pleased surprise, and Chase sang, "C'mon and see, see, see Tennessee Tuxedo. Though he may fail as he tries for fame and glory still he tries with each new story..." His voice dropped to normal tone.. "Would it be all right if I petted him? I'll be very gentle."

"Oh, sure," said the woman. "If he didn't like it, I wouldn't be able to use him. Just don't feed him any junk. If you want to feed him, I have some carrots and apple."

"Oh, yes, please!"

The woman pulled out a baggie and handed Chase several small chunks of carrot. "Now, don't hold it in your fingers. He wouldn't mean to bite you, but..."

"Lady, I've been bitten by a horse before. I know the drill." Chase curled his fingers in so that they didn't protrude, then set the carrots in the palm of his hand. He approached the pony slowly, making sure that it knew he was coming, and talked to it quietly. "Hey, Tennessee. Aren't you just a beautiful boy? I have something for you." He extended his hand, offering the carrots. The pony lifted his head, eyeing Chase curiously. "It's all right. I got it from your mom, so you're not taking candy from a stranger." The horse sniffed, then stretched his neck and delicately lifted the treat from Chase's palm with a twitch of velvety lips. Chase giggled, looking at William. "Tickles."

Introductions over, Chase petted and talked to the little horse, flattering him shamelessly, lamenting the fact that Tennessee's legs weren't a little longer, or his own legs a little shorter, so that he could have a picture taken.

William looked at the woman and said, "You don't have to actually be on the pony to have a picture taken, do you?"

"Sure don't," said the woman.

William again took out his wallet. "Cuddle up, Chase. I want another picture of you."

Chase happily looped an arm around the pony's neck as the woman said, "You gonna want the three dollar, or the five dollar?"

"What's the difference?"

"Three dollars for a single, five if there's two people in it. Got lots of parents want to put both their kids on for a shot."

William handed her a ten. "The five dollar, definitely–two of them." He went over and stood on the opposite side of the pony, throwing an arm around it's neck also.. His hand came to rest on Chase's back just as the woman got ready to snap the picture. Chase turned his head to find William gazing at him, smiling. He couldn't help returning the smile. Later on anyone who saw the photos could tell that the pony might have been in the center, but it was getting the least attention of the trio.

Chase was delighted with his photo. "I'm going to get a frame for it and put it on my dresser. That way I can tell you good-night when I go to bed, even if you're not with me."

"What kind do you want?" William asked. "Silver? China? I've seen some nice Waterford ones, if you like crystal."

"You're not buying me a frame that costs more than I make in a long shift." He thought. "A long shift, plus tips."

"I'd really like to give you one."

"We're not going to argue about this, are we?"

William sighed. "All right, but you're being difficult. What next?"

"Rides, of course. We need to get the money's worth out of these bracelets."

They went down the Helter Skelter, and William promised himself to some day get Chase to a water park so he could watch him go down a hydro slide in swimming trunks. Then they had Pork-Kebabs, the meat deliciously flavored with garlic. Chase insisted on curly seasoned fries, also, washed down with carnival lemonade. They went on the Break Dance and the Octopus afterwards, and Chase didn't get the least bit queasy. William, though, needed to sit down for a couple of minutes after the last ride. He didn't throw up, but he thought about it. Chase trotted to the closest restroom and wet his handkerchief, then brought it back and wiped Williams face, and held the cloth to his forehead.

A little girl of about seven paused by their bench, watching them. "Whatcha doing?"

Chase glanced at her, then said, "My daddy is sick."

The girl didn't blink, which made William feel a little old. Later Chase told him that it was perfectly natural. Children that age knew five ages–babies, their own age, big kids, grownups (which included teenagers), and old people. "Did he throw up?"

"No, but he did this." Chase made an urping sound, and the little girl giggled. "Where's your mama and daddy?"

"Mama's in there." She pointed at the restroom.

"Shouldn't you be with her?" The girl looked guilty. "You came out while she was still busy, didn't you? That's naughty. Better run back, or you might be in trouble." The little girl turned and hurried toward the restroom. She wasn't quite fast enough. A harried looking woman came out to meet her, and immediately started scolding. Chase shook his head, saying, "Well, hopefully it will sink in. It scares me to death when I see a small child running around by himself in public."

"I'm okay now, Dr. Kildare," said William.

"Good." Chase looked at the handkerchief. "Now, what am I going to do with this? I'm not about to toss away a perfectly good kerchief, and it I put it in any pocket, I'm going to end up with a damp patch showing. There's no way to not be embarrassed by a damp patch on your clothes unless the onlookers actually see you spill the liquid."

"If it was hot, I'd say drape it over your neck to keep cool. Hand it over." William took the folded kerchief and slipped it in the pocket of his leather jacket. "There. No visible damp patches."

"You're so practical." Chase paused then said. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, but what for?"

"For not making a fuss when I told that girl you were my daddy."

"Why should I?"

There was something old and aching in Chase's eyes. "I've been with someone before who didn't want people to know that we were together-together, if you know what I mean."

"He needs to be kicked," said William with utter conviction.

"I didn't want to get close enough to him to kick, so I threw heavy objects instead."

"That's my wildcat. We're close to the fat stock barn. Let's go look for those rabbits and lambs. I'm sure they'll cheer you up."

There were indeed rabbits and lambs. There were also placid dairy cows and majestic Brahma bulls, huge hogs (who all seemed much more laid back than the earlier screaming would have indicated, and cages of glossy brown, black, and white chickens. William couldn't talk Chase into coming close to them. "I don't like them till they're cut up and under plastic in the meat section," he said firmly.

"You mean to tell me you had pigs and cows, but no chickens?" said William.

"Oh, we had chickens, all right. Still do. But Mom does all the fussing with them. I'll toss grain in from outside the fence, but I won't go in to gather eggs. They don't like me, and they peck. Besides, do you remember that scar on my calf?" William did. It was a jagged white line about three inches long on the back of Chase's right calf. William had driven Chase to giggling fits by licking it one evening. "I got that from a rooster. No, I don't like them. Take a look at their legs and around their eyes. Scales–and they have teeny, tiny brains. and beady eyes. I tell you, even though I'm a born again Christian I have no trouble believing that they evolved from lizards. Stop laughing, people will stare."

There was a petting pen. Chase had a fine time cuddling an Angora rabbit, till he noticed that one girl had brought her pet ferret. The bunny was gently, but quickly deposited, and Chase went over to bend the girl's ear. That was no problem–she loved talking about her pet. It was draped across the back of her neck, watching Chase with bright, curious eyes. After a few minutes the girl invited Chase to hold the ferret, whose name was Frank Burns (unlike the pony, William recognized this pop culture name). Delighted, Chase followed the girl's instructions. He extended his arm, laying his palm on her shoulder, then made kissing noises at the ferret. The little animal regarded him, then scampered up Chase's arm and perched on his shoulder, beginning to investigate his ear. Chase's eyes got big, and he fought down giggles, so as not to alarm the ferret. "Whiskers!"

"Yeah, he tickles something terrible," said the girl. "I think he does it on purpose. Go on and laugh–he's used to it." Chase did, and the ferret's only reaction was to balance himself by gripping Chase's hair with his tiny paws. Frank then slithered down the front of Chase's shirt, wiggled around, and popped his head back over the neckline, like a joey peeking out of a kangaroo pouch. The girl said, "Oh, now he's showing off for you. He can tell you're not afraid, and you like him, so he's playing with you."

After another minute or so the girl plucked Frank out of Chase's shirt, saying that it was time for her to pack up and go home. Chase waved goodbye as the ferret was stowed in a plastic pet taxi. As the girl left, Chase murmured, "I think I'm in love." He caught William's sardonic look and said, "With the ferret, silly."

"I got that. You're lucky I'm not the jealous type, because I'd swear that animal was flirting with you." He grabbed Chase's hand. "C'mon. Time to remind you who you came to the fair with."

"Ooo, he's sounding Dominant." Chase almost skipped after William. "What are you going to do–spank me with one of those paper fans from the skill games?"

Chase gasped as William suddenly tugged him closer and stared down into his eyes. "Spanking isn't to be considered frivolously. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

William led Chase over to a large, blocky structure. The outside was painted with cartoonish representations of vampires, ghosts, witches, zombies, skeletons... All things spooky. The sign said ‘Murderer Mansion. See the most notorious killers of history.'. The carny taking tickets near the entrance glanced at their bracelets as they approached. When he saw Chase he frowned, then pointed at the sign. In smaller print it said ADULTS ONLY. Chase put his hands on his hips. "I'm tall enough to ride any ride here."

"It ain't that, kid," said the man. "They go for the gore in the tableaus, and you might even see some bare tit. Can't have the kiddies getting freaked out."

"Gore and bare boobs–neither one is likely to freak me out. Besides, I'm of age." He fished his ever present ID card out, holding it on the cord and showing it to the carny.

The man looked at it. "Kid, are you sure you're of age? This looks like you've been teething."

Chase turned the card, examining it. "Well, I'll be--teeth marks. Frank Burns must've chewed on it while he was inside my shirt." He noticed the look the carny was giving him. "It's not what you think."

The man shrugged. "It's none of my business. Besides, man, you work with the carny long enough you're gonna run into things a lot stranger than some dude nibbling around inside another dude's shirt. But I still gotta warn ya–and I mean I have to--they'll fire me if I don't. It gets pretty graphic in there. I was understating it when I talked about bare boobs."

"I can handle it."

He waved them toward the entrance. "Have fun, then, and please don't diddle with the exhibits."

William led Chase through the swinging metal door, and they found themselves in a cramped corridor. It was lit by tiny red lights, which gave off a lurid glow. As they started down the hall Chase said, "William, if you think that being in a spook house is going to frighten me so bad that I'll cling to you, just remember how much horror I watch." He held onto William's arm and batted his eyelashes up at William. "But if they startle me enough, who knows what might happen?"

"That might happen," said William. "If this is one of those ones where they have an actor hiding in the exhibits to jump out at you. But that's not why we're here."

They came to an open area off to the left. It was cordoned off by the sort of velvet ropes used to set up lines at banks and movies. There was a small sign on the wall beside it. The large print at the top said TED BUNDY. "I don't believe it," said Chase.

"Yeah, it's something," said William.

The exhibit consisted of a Volkswagen Beetle. There were two wax figures in the car–an anonymous woman, and one that was clearly meant to be Bundy. He was wearing the notorious fake cast on his arm, and he was frozen in the act of using it to bludgeon the cringing woman. The woman's blouse was ripped, showing a lot of wax skin, and her head and the cast were both liberally smeared with blood.

"If they're going to start out with this it might get to me after all," said Chase.

The next exhibit was on their right, and it was a depiction of the Manson Family murders of Sharon Tate and her guests. They'd used a lot of red paint on it. Chase looked away from the pathetic, barely clothed figure representing a heavily pregnant Tate. "I think I should have listened to that man. That's just wrong."

"I'm sorry, babe. I didn't think it was going to be this nasty," said William apologetically.

The next display was for Vlad Dracul, AKA Dracula, AKA Vlad the Impaler. Vlad was depicted in one of his favorite activities. Dining elegantly at a table set up amid the impaled bodies of his enemies. Several of his soldiers were preparing to impale a woman. "Oh, God," said Chase faintly. "Tell me they're not getting ready to put that stake where I think they are."

"No wonder they keep kids out of here."

"I like horror movies, but this is just a little too up close and personal."

"Close your eyes, baby. You don't need to look at this. I'll lead you to the end."

Chase did as William directed, and William led him on. Once or twice William made a faint sound of disgust, and Chase was glad that he wasn't seeing what was there. Finally William stopped. "We're not outside yet," said Chase. "I can tell."

"No, but we're around a corner from the last exhibit," said William. "They want to make sure no one catches a glimpse from the outside. You can open your eyes." Chase did, to find William looking at him gravely. "I'm sorry about that, hon. I thought it was just going to be a slightly ramped up version of a spook house. You know I wouldn't upset you for the world."

"Well, it certainly did get me to hang onto you," said Chase. "I came close to climbing you."

"I told you that wasn't what got me to bring you in here."

"Then what was?"

"This." William took hold of Chase's shoulders and pressed him back against the cool metal of the wall, then kissed him deeply. He moved his hands up to tangle in Chase's hair, holding his head firmly as he probed and licked. Chase's arms went up around him, holding him tightly. Chase sighed as he felt one hand slide between their bodies and slither down to press against his crotch. William rubbed firmly, whispering in his mouth. "Just enough, sweetheart. Just enough to remind you of who you're with, and why you're with me."

Chase was half-hard and dreamy-eyed when William led him out into the fresh air and noise. Chase was almost glowing with happiness, but there was a bare hint of wistfulness, too. He was thinking that straight couples did almost as much out in public all the time, and the worst they got were catcalls of ‘get a room!' But William wasn't trying to act as if they were just buddies in public, so Chase figured he ought to be content.

Then William stopped, reaching over to stroke his cheek. "You're shivering."

Chase found that he was. He hugged his arms. "It's gotten cooler than I expected."

William slipped off his jacket and draped it around Chase's shoulders. Then he held the arms and used it to pull Chase close, bending down to kiss him. It wasn't as involved as it had been in the spook house, but it wasn't a ‘French comrade peck on the cheek' either. "Better?"

Chase smiled blindingly. "Absolutely perfect."

"Do you want to stay awhile longer, or would you like to go home for awhile before supper?"

"Let's go back. I've had fun, but I don't want to get too worn out." He arched an eyebrow. "I'm not as young as I used to be."

As they headed toward the parking lot, they passed through the double row of games booths. William stopped. "Wait a minute. You haven't had the full carnival experience. Something must be won."

They were right in front of a Pitch n' Win booth. The man caught William's eye and held up a battered baseball. "Knock over the bottles and win a prize..." he glanced at Chase, "for your friend."

"You want to try this one?" asked William.

"No way," said Chase. "I'd rather try one I'd have a chance at. I throw like a girl. No, wait–I lie. I've seen Duke's Duggout Dykes softball team play, and some of those girls could knock you on your butt. I throw like... well, me. No one wanted me on their team for baseball." He smiled. "I made up for it by smoking them in track and field. I don't run like a girl."

"Well, I'm doing it," said William. "I did pretty good in baseball." He handed over a dollar and got two balls. "I can remember when you got three for a quarter."

"Old man," said Chase.

William whipped a ball at the wooden ‘bottles', and tumbled them. "I've had time to work on my aim, whippersnapper."

The man was setting up the ‘bottles' again. "That won you any prize on the first shelf. Care to try again?"

"The more I hit in a row, the higher the shelf I can pick from?"

"Yes sir. Make six in a row and you can choose from the back wall."

William laid down two more dollars. "Line the balls up." He fired the balls in rapid succession, hitting his target every time. Chase was cheering in delight by the time he finished, and a crowd had gathered, exclaiming over William's aim and strength. The carny looked a little sour. "It's a good thing I don't have many customers with your aim, Mister. I'd be bankrupt."

"Stop complaining," said William. "I attracted a crowd for you."

The man looked at the people who were beginning to pull out money. "That you did. Make your choice."

William pointed. "That."

"Good pick. That's real pewter." He took the indicated prize from the shelf and handed it to William.

William, in turn, handed it to Chase. Chase stared at the ornate, silvery frame as William said, "Of course I'll expect you to take the picture of the girl in the bikini out and replace it with mine."

Chase grinned at him. "You're so good to me. C'mon and I'll win you the biggest stuffed animal they have."

William sounded amused as he followed Chase toward another booth. "And how are you going to do that?"

"You aren't the only one with good aim, sweetie." They stopped in front of a Balloon Pop booth. Chase picked up one of the darts that had been stuck in the counter, and twirled it between his fingers, smiling coyly. "Perhaps I shouldn't warn you in advance, but I never have to pay for my own beer in a bar that has a dart board."

The Pink Panther doll was almost as tall as Chase, and since it was Pink, William had a good time joking about mistaking it for Chase in the dark.

As they pulled out of the parking lot Chase said, "Do you think we could swing by my friend's house? There's a computer, and I have permission to toddle with it on weekends. I want to check my email. It's just about a mile in that direction."

"Sure." William made the turn. "Have I met him?"

"It's a her, and no–you haven't. It's a girl I knew back home. Well, knew as in ‘knew about'–we weren't friends then. She was three years older than me, so she was graduating when I got into high school. I thought she was terrific, though. She's braver than I am. She was herself, even when it made her the town oddball."

"Odd how? From what I've heard about Bosporus you could be considered odd if you bought a Caterpiller tractor instead of a John Deere."

"You're right, and you'll see. You better take this parking space, and we'll walk up. When it comes to big cities the only time there's really a convenient parking spot right where you need it is in the movies, or television."

"Not true. They do it in mystery stories, too. You never read about a detective having to park six blocks away and hike unless they're going to have them ambushed along the way."

They walked up two blocks to an elderly four story apartment building–one that had once been a private residence. There was a small bank of buzzers near the front door, and Chase pressed one marked 7. A woman's voice came over intercom. "Yes?"

"Hey, Morty," chirped Chase. "It's me is the computer available?"

"For you? Of course, sweetie."

"I've got a friend with me."

"Is this the friend?"

"Yep."

"Well, come on before I'm eaten up with curiosity."

There was a buzz, and the door shifted slightly in its frame as the lock disengaged. They entered a cramped front hallway. There were doors marked 1 and 2 on either side, with a set of stairs near the entrance, and a narrow set of sliding doors at the other end of the hall. Chase said, "Do you feel claustrophobic, or tired? If you're claustrophobic we can take the stairs, and if you're tired we can take the elevator."

"I'm not too tired, but I've done enough walking for one day. Let's take the elevator."

Chase hadn't been joking about the elevator. Chase wasn't that broad, but when he stood side-by-side with William, their arms brushed. "Morty has the entire top floor to herself."

"A loft?"

"I guess, though I always think lofts should have hay in them. It used to be the attic, and I think that lofts are usually converted from industrial buildings, or above businesses. You're the rich guy–you should know that." William aimed a playful swat at his head. Chase ducked, blythly ignoring it as he continued, "She likes it because it has sky lights. She wouldn't be able to afford it except that the building went condo back in the seventies, when her grandmother was still living here. Grandy bought her space, and left it to Morty in her will."

The elevator opened onto a small hall, with one door right in front of it. Chase gave the door a ‘shave and a haircut, two bits' knock, and the door was opened by very tall, thin man. He was wearing a stylish goatee, and his hair might have been creeping back from his pronounced widow's peak, but it made up the difference in back, the ponytail reaching well past his shoulders. He smiled at Chase, though his eyes flicked curiously to William. "Hey, little brother. She heard you had your friend with her and now she's putting on her face, be out in a minute. Wish I could stay and visit, but you caught me on my way out." He lifted his hand, showing the battered guitar case he was carrying. "My gig at the coffee house." He looked at William. "It doesn't pay much, but the coffee-live beverages I can drink."

"If it was me," said William, "they'd be better off paying me more. I can eat an awful lot of pastry. Piedmont. That's an interesting name."

"I like it, but you have no idea what grief I had with it going through school. I got it because I was born exactly nine months after my parents came back from their honeymoon in northern Italy. I was conceived amid the Alps, France, Switzerland... I'm just glad that they didn't honeymoon in Anaheim, Azusa, or Cucamonga. Nice meeting you, hope to see you again." He stepped into the elevator.

As the doors shut, William said, "I thought you said she was a girl?"

"She...? Oh, that was Monty, not Morty. Monty is Morty's boyfriend."

"Oh. With a name like Morty I thought that perhaps she was... um..."

"Butch? No, far from it." They'd stepped into the apartment, and Chase shut and locked the door.

William looked around. "Now, this is nice."

It was a loft, as he'd guessed. There were two large skylights, letting in the bright October sunlight. It was one large room, with sleeping, cooking, eating, and living areas set out by furniture arrangements. One area, right under the far skylight, was set up as a studio. There were stacks of canvases, shelves of supplies, and several easels. The air held a faint tang of turpentine. A door on the far side (which William later learned was the bathroom) opened, and a tall, slender young woman wafted out.

William applied the term ‘wafted' because she was wearing a long, ragged hemmed black gauze dress and black satin ballet slippers. Her long hair was a frankly artificial bright red, but the most startling thing was her make-up. It was Kabuki white with lots of dark eye make-up and lipstick almost the same shade as her hair. Her only adornment was a huge silver cross on a matching chain. As she came toward them Chase said, "Monty for Piedmont, Morty for Morticia."

Morty offered her hand and said in a throaty voice, "The birth certificate says Monica. I knew I was going to change it when I was about five and saw The Addams Family for the first time. Mom was a little upset about it until the whole Lewinski business. Well..." She cocked her head, studying William. "You weren't exaggerating, Chasey. He's yummy. William, please feel free to make out with Chase any time you get the urge. I write slash for the Internet, and I can always use some inspiration. Chase, go ahead and get on line. I've got a piece to finish."

"Can we see?"

"Sure. It's for Catacombs. They're going to hang it by the bar where the tourists can get a good look at it after they've had a few drinks." She led them over to one of the easels and indicated the picture. "What do you think?"

William couldn't have said exactly what he'd expected, though his best guess would have been something dark and chaotic, or perhaps something surreal, like Dali. What it was was a fluffy kitten with sorrowful green eyes that were literally the size of saucers. "It looks like one of those big eyed kid, kitten, or puppy pictures that were so popular in the sixties."

"Keane portraits. Very good. But with my own personal twist. Look more closely."

William did, then burst out laughing. Instead of sitting on a fence or in an alley, the kitten was sitting in front of a gravestone. There were red sparks in it's eyes, and fangs peeked out beneath its whiskers. "Oh, my God! I love it."

"You know what might be a nice touch?" said Chase. "A draggled black ribbon around its neck, and if you look close you can make out REST IN PEACE."

Morticia squealed and kissed him, leaving a red smudge on his cheek. "Perfect! Thanks, Chasey. You're a good collaborator."

"I'm more than a collaborator," said Chase. "I'm an accomplis. I'm going to go check my email now." He trotted over to the computer that was sitting on a desk along the wall.

William called after him, "Hey, I need your email addy. I can send you dirty emails."

"Fabulous."

"Well?"

"I told you. Fabulous at glitteratti dot com."

"Gosh. That's going to be hard to remember."

"Will," said Morty. "I have to get this on canvas while it's fresh in my mind." She was pulling on an over sized, paint spattered men's shirt. "We can talk if you won't get offended if I get distracted. Or you can look around the apartment." She grinned at him. "You might be startled, but you won't find anything illegal."

"Thanks." As Morticia mixed up what looked like three shades of black on a pallette, William walked around the apartment. He hadn't noticed when he first entered the apartment, but now it was clear that this place belonged to a Goth. One wall held the biggest collection of crosses William had ever seen outside of a Christian gift shop window. They ranged in size from ones you could wear on a lapel to what looked like a wrought iron one that looked like it could be used as a weight to build up your biceps. The spread on the queen sized bed was deep maroon velvet. William was willing to bet that it covered black sheets, and one of Dracula's brides would have looked right at home lounging on it. The Raggedy Ann doll resting against the pillows was a little disconcerting, especially since it seemed to be wearing a shroud.

Morticia noticed him eyeing it and called, "That was my first gift from Piedmont. We met at a music festival. I was there to see Tremble and the Restless Dead, and he was performing." She grinned. "I heard someone performing Dead Skunk in the Middle of the Road and I had to see who'd sing that. Then he saw me in the crowd and dedicated the next song to me--Long Black Veil."

"Were you wearing one?"

"No, it's a great country morbidity song." She carefully drew a squiggle of black over the kitten's shoulder, then dabbed some stark white on the pallette and started to paint in the words on the ribbon. "Some guy is accused of a murder, and rather than betray the married woman he was with he goes to the gallows. She walks the hills in a long, black veil at night, and at the end you find out that the guy has been dead for ten years. Great stuff." She glanced at him, catching his expression, and said, amused, "I'd better not tell you about Country Death Song."

A large Siamese cat wiggled out from under the bed and looked at William with curious eyes that were almost as blue as Chase's. "Well, hello."

The cat came over and started sniffing William's shoes, and Morticia glanced over. "Hey, Pyewacket likes you. That cat usually doesn't even come out if we have visitors."

William squatted down to stroke the cat, saying. "He's beautiful, but he could do with losing a little weight. I'm surprised you didn't get stuck under that bed, kitty."

"That's not a he, that's a she, you ninny," said Chase, not looking up from the monitor.

"I saw Bell, Book, and Candle, and I thought that Pyewacket was a male."

"He was, but this is a she and she's not fat--she's pregnant," said Morticia. "Please tell me you aren't this clueless with humans."

"With humans he is a model of tact and suavity," said Chase. "He has to be–he's a businessman. Lordy. Tell me, William. Do I need to have my libido enhanced, my sexual stamina extended, or the size of my penis increased?"

William replied, "Don't do it on my account."

"Delete, delete, delete." He sighed. "My inbox is like a Monty Python sketch."

William grinned, "Spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam, or dead parrots?"

Chase smiled, closing the program. "See, Morty? He got it. Isn't he cool?"

"If I didn't already have my own, I'd flirt with him," she said.

"Oh, I don't mind you flirting." Chase came over and circled his arms around William's neck, practically dangling from him. "I'm secure."

Morticia stood back from the painting, studying it. She looked over at Chase. "Now?"

"Perfect."

"Good. I wanted to have it done and dried for the Halloween bash at Catacombs." She looked at William. "Goth bar. I tend bar there sometimes, and they asked me to help set up the All Hallows party. Chase would you macrame us a few yards of fake spider webs to drape around the bar?"

"Sure thing," said Chase. "And I'll be happy to come in the day before and help make the bar snacks, but you'll have to get a free pass for me," he batted his eyes at William, "and date, and supply the string and fake spiders."

"No problem," said Morticia. "The owner loved that gravestone cake you made for Valentine's day last year. But if you want a pass you'll have to come in costume. In costume is free, no costume it's twenty bucks a head cover charge."

"Yipes!"

"They do it to keep out the tourists. It is our holiday, after all."

"Well, I'm sure I could rustle up some sort of costume," said Chase. "If all else fails I'll borrow one of Mona's body suits, get some leotards, and go as a ballet dancer. How about you, Will? Still got that Zorro costume? You'd be a big hit in all that black."

Chase was still hanging on William. William had embraced him, and now he gave him a squeeze. "It was rented. But I do have something at home I think would be perfect. And you don't have to scrounge a costume, Chase. I have an idea, and if you agree I'll set it up for you."

"You intrigue me, sir. What is it?"

"I'm not going to tell you now."

Chase stood up and slapped him lightly on the shoulder. "Tease."

"I'll give you a few hints. It'll go with my costume so that it's clear we're a couple, and part of it's something I was intending to give you sometime soon anyway."

"Clothes?" Chase bounced. "You know I love new clothes. But I'm not sure I'll be able to wear something that would serve as a Halloween costume when I'm out doing the shopping." William gave him a wicked smile. "What?"

"I'm just imagining you pushing a shopping cart down the frozen food aisle, dressed in what I'm imagining."

"Interesting, hm?"

"Sweetheart, the shoppers wouldn't take their eyes off you if there was a store wide half price, buy-one-get-one free, bring your coupons store wide sale."

Morticia was so pleased with how the picture came out that she insisted on breaking out a bottle of wine to celebrate. "I'll have grape juice, though. I'm so glad I never did drugs. That's one more thing I won't have to give up during this pregnancy." While they sipped, they chatted. She lamented the fact that there weren't any really good Goth maternity clothes out there. It turned out that she was three months pregnant and pretty soon her ‘future sprog' would start to distend the drape of her dresses. "And while I'm looking forward to it like nothing else, it's going to be irritating to look like a stuffed ripe olive for about three months. What are you doing?" she asked curiously.

William had taken out a small notebook, and was scribbling in it. "Niche market maternity clothes. That's a good idea. I mean, Goths, punks, and head bangers get pregnant, too."

"Lordy, Will," said Chase. "You can't possibly be thinking about opening up a new front in business."

"You either do one thing better than anyone else, or you do a lot of things better than most people, sweetie. I'm not saying I'd pitch everything I have into a new venture, but I have to keep my eye open for opportunities. And I have a lot of contacts. I don't necessarily have to run the whole shebang. If I provide the idea, some direction, and part of the start up cash, I can get a nice little cut of the profits, and if it doesn't fly, I won't be skinned."

Chase kissed him. "My very own Daddy Warbucks."

"I always wondered if there might not be something a little odd in his relationship to the little red haired girl," said Morty.

"That's because you're twisted, dear," said Chase.

She lifted her glass of grape juice. "And proud of it." Pyewacket was winding around her shins, mewing demandingly. "Oh, all right, you nudge." She took down a saucer and poured a few sips of grape juice in it, then put it on the floor. The cat immediately crouched beside it and began to lap eagerly, whiskers swept back in satisfaction.

"That's one weird cat," said William.

"Thank you," said Morticia. "Cats are by definition a little weird, and I, naturally, would want mine to push the envelope a little. I'm not sure if she just normally likes it, or if it's a pregnancy craving. I left a glass unattended, and came back to find her trying to stuff her head in it. Ever since then she bugs me half to death when I drink juice. I asked the vet and he said there's nothing wrong with it, as long as she gets her nutritious diet otherwise. The extra vitamins might actually help."

William reached down to rub the cat's ears. "Clever kitty."

"You like her, don't you?" asked Morticia.

"Yeah. I've always liked cats. I had an old tomcat when I was growing up, but I had to leave him at home when I went to college. He died when he was twelve, and I bawled my eyes out."

"Had you had him all his life?"

"Since he was weaned."

"No wonder. If he died when he was in your late teens or early twenties, you'd had him half your life. I can tell you're one of the ones who don't subscribe to the 'they're just an animal' party line. Would you like one of the kittens?"

William looked up quickly. "What?"

"It's not a sure thing, mind you. And I have to charge to help with the vet bills. I've very reasonable, though. You try finding another kitten with the kind of bloodline these will have for under two hundred dollars. I'm only asking fifty, since I'm only selling to friends. I already have takers for four, but her last litter was six. I want to give them to people I know will take care of them."

"You don't know that of me."

"I know that you're all right with Chase, and he wouldn't have anything to do with someone who'd neglect or abuse an animal. What say?"

"I... Well, thanks. I'll have to think about it, though."

She nodded. "Good. I'd worry about giving one to someone who decided on the spur of the moment. There's a lot of sad situations that start that way. Lot of animals end up in the shelter because someone finds out that the cute bundle of fur is going to stain the carpet till they get it trained. But she's due in about a week, and purebred Siamese kittens go quickly. So, Chase, are you going to be able to get Halloween off? They made you work last year."

"Oh, you'd better believe that I put myself down for wanting that day off way early," Chase assured her. "Thank goodness the diner owner believes in family being together on major holidays. That means we all automatically get Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter off. Makes my life a lot easier. When you're single, a lot of places just automatically classify you as 'no family'. They only seem to count offspring and spouses, and I'll have you know that parents count, too."

"Great. As much work as you're going to be doing, don't let them talk you into organizing the karaoke, too."

"Sweetie, I was planning on talking them into it."