October 29

Chase was to spend the night at William's house, then spend most of the next day making the snacks. He was scheduled to work the day shift at the diner, but would be off in plenty of time to get ready for the party. "Can you deliver the stuff to the club for me Halloween during the day? Mona can't haul it over because she's going to be working her booty off doing speciality hair dos for Halloween. She makes a mint putting in temporary colored rinses. I was thinking..."

"I seriously doubt that ancient Roman pleasure slaves--the boys, anyway--had pastel hair."

"Pooh. Next year I'll be an anime character--you just watch. Anyway, I don't want to leave it there overnight. I'm sure that the staff wouldn't intend to graze on it, but you know where the road paved with good intentions leads."

"No problem. I'll bring it to the office with me, then run it over at lunch time," William assured him.

William arrived at the diner that evening to pick Chase up. The PA in the diner played an endless stream of fifties and sixties songs. William hadn't been surprised to find out that Chase knew the words to all of them. He'd commented that he wasn't surprised--hearing them eight and ten hours at a stretch was bound to make them seap into one's consciousness. Chase had informed him that he'd known them before he came to work at the diner. The diner was fairly quiet when William came in--less than a dozen customers was quiet, since they did good business. He could tell it was quiet because Chase wasn't working like a dog behind the counter. He was scraping down the griddle, but at the same time he was dancing and singing along with the music.

William paused to admire him. He was wearing a modified fifties costume/uniform. The tight, white T-shirt was modern enough, even if it was Fruit of the Loom instead of Calvin Kline or Tommy Hilfiger, but baggy, pleated pants had deep cuffs. He was wearing a full length white apron (slightly marked with different smears, the most readily identifiable being mustard and ketchup. This meant that it had been busy before, because Chase was careful of his uniforms, since he couldn't afford to replace them), and William admired the way that the strings had to wrap twice around his slender waist before tying in a generous bow in back. The ensemble was topped off by a folded paper cap, set on his bright blond hair at a jaunty angle. The music playing was bouncy, and infectuous. As William listened to Chase sing along, he realized that 'infectuous' was a good term.

"...Measles make you bumpy, and mumps'll make you lumpy. And chicken pox'll make you jump and twitch. A common cold'll fool ya, and whoopin' cough'll cool ya. But poison ivy, lord'll make ya itch!"

Ernesting, carrying a tray of dirty dishes was passing behind him. She stopped and leaned close to him, blending her voice with his in the chorus. "Poison Iiiivy! Poi-oi-son Iiivy! Late at night when you're sleepin' poison ivy comes a'creepin' around-round-round-round."

As she moved on to the dish washer Chase continued. "You're gonna need an ocean, of calamine lotions. You'll be scratchin' like a hound the minute you start to mess around with..."

Chase turned and spotted William, his eyes lighting up. William grinned at him and joined the chorus. "With poison iiiivy. Poi-oi-son Ivy. Late at night when you're creepin' poison ivy comes a'creepin arounnnnd..." His voice dropped to his normal tone. "Hi, Caruso."

Chase put a hand on his hip. "He so shot himself in the foot when he quit NYPD Blue after the first season, but maybe I'm just bitter because I didn't get to see his bare butt more often. He's redeemed himself on CSI: Miami. Hello, you. I'm almost done. I'll be ready to go, as soon as my relief gets here, and if he doesn't want the grill brick..." Chase brandished the pumice brick he'd been using to scrape the grill, "somewhere very uncomfortable, he'll be on time."

The door behind William opened, and a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair, dressed exactly like Chase, but carrying his apron over his arm, came in. "Would I do that to you, Peaches? Especially since I know you're sincere about that threat." Chase was heading out from behind the counter, untying his apron. "Damn, give a man a chance to clock in, kid."

"Me, out. You, in. I'll race you for the time clock," said Chase, hustling toward the back of the diner.

"No, ya don't!" The man proved that he was younger (or at least fitter) than he looked by vaulting over the counter, landing neatly in the narrow space, and dashing after Chase.

William was shaking his head. Ernestine, ringing up a customer, said, "You don't have to be crazy to work here--but it helps."

Chase slid into the front seat of the Thunderbird as William got behind the wheel. He picked up his seat belt and examined it. "You had to have these put in, didn't you? I can't imagine they were standard when this was rolled off the assembly line."

"If I didn't have it up to code, all I'd be able to do would be drive it in car show parades and sit in it in my drive way." Chase was getting ready to buckle the belt. William took it from his hands, dropping it back on the seat, and used his grip on Chase's wrist to pull him closer. His free hand came up and he worked his fingers into Chase's hair, bending down to bury his face against the boy's throat. Chase giggled as William sniffed deeply. "You smell like grilled meat and fried onions."

"That will happen when you're a short order cook."

"I like it. You smell delicious." William licked him. "Not that you don't always smell delicious." He sat back. "Now, buckle up."

"Yes." Chase buckled the belt. "Don't want you to get a ticket."

"Screw the ticket. I just don't want to risk having you get up-close-and-personal with my windshield from the inside." He turned the ignition. "Though from the outside..."

Chase eyed him curiously. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, I don't always use it, but with a little clearing out I could get the Thunderbird into the garage."

"So?"

"Sooo... You liked what we did when I showed you my costume, didn't you?"

Chase's eyes gleamed. "Very much."

"I was thinking. How do you feel about the idea of a car club president initiating a new member in a very personal way--across the hood of his car?"

Chase gaped at William, feeling a tightening in his groin. "You," he whispered, "are my hero." His expression brightened. "If you let me know far enough in advance, Duke will borrow a leather jacket for me from one of her friends. She'd loan me hers, but it would be like you trying to wear one that would fit Andre the Giant."

"We'd better wait till the weather is a little warmer. It can get a little chilly in the garage." William put the car in gear. "I don't want you to literally freeze your cute little ass off."

When they arrived at William's house, Chase headed directly for the kitchen. Mrs. Fieldstone was putting the finishing touches on a cake as he came in. She pointed the spatula, smeared with pink icing, at him. "So YOU'RE the one responsible for stuffing the cabinets to bursting."

"You aren't kidding me," said Chase cheerfully. "I peeked the last time I was here, and you had plenty of room." He bent over the cake, studying it. "What kind?"

"Deep Dutch chocolate cake, and peppermint icing."

Chase sniffed delightedly. "Oh, it certainly is! You used peppermint extract, of course?"

"Of course, and I have crushed peppermint and chocolate syrup to decorate it."

Chase smiled. "You don't do anything half-way, do you?"

"Hey, I have to be on my toes since there's another cook around. When William told me you would be over, I decided to dazzle you."

"You succeeded. Can I decorate it?" She looked at him. "Pretty please with sugar on top?" She kept looking. "And whipped cream?" She curled her fingers in a 'give me' gesture. "Oh, all right. And a cherry."

She nodded in satisfaction, smiling. "The peppermint is already crushed, and it's in a baggie in the bread box. The chocolate syrup is..."

"Refrigerator door, third shelf, next to the chili sauce."

She pursed her lips, fighting down a smile, "And I'm not even going to ask you why you're so familiar with the location of that particular item. On that note, I think I'll fade into the night..." she looked past Chase, "Unless you need me?"

William, in the doorway, shook his head. "We're fine, Mrs. Fieldstone. Thanks."

"Good. Chase?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"If you leave me a sample of each one of those snacks, I'll give you the recipe of my grandmother's authentic banana-pineapple pudding."

"You're on."

Mrs. Fieldstone left. "Okay, I'm cooking for you this time," said William. "I may not be Emeril, but I can fry a hamburger with the best of them."

Chase was eyeing the cake, deciding on his plan for decorating it. "Emeril is so cute, with his itty-bitty thin spot on top. I just want to rub his belly. I suppose I could allow you to cook this time. What type of ground meat do you have?"

"Chuck. I remember what you said about ground round or sirloin being too dry for burgers."

"You learn well, Grasshopper." Chase went to the bread box and took out the baggy filled with crushed peppermint. "Oh, good! This is a whole tree's worth of candy canes. I'll be able to decorate the sides. What will you use for binder?"

"Binder?"

Chase looked up at him. "You aren't planning to do just plain meat, are you?"

"Well, I guess I'm not now. Um... How about an egg and a little dried bread crumbs?"

"Just enough to help it hold together and give it a more even texture," said Chase. "Unless something is advertised as one hundred percent beef I can just about promise you that you're getting textured vegetable protien, AKA soy beans."

"Yeah. I used to eat at the campus cafeteria a lot, and there was a lot of mystery meat going on."

"You were lucky. Our lunch ladies were left over from the fifties, and they highly believed in oatmeal as a filler. Lots and lots of oatmeal."

William was taking a package of hamburger out of the refrigerator. "Meatloafs, casseroles, and meat balls?"

"Those too, but the most infamous use was the Oatmeal Burger."

William was taking a bowl out of the cabinet, and he stopped, turning around to stare. "Say what?"

"You heard me. The general consensus was that you were safe eating in the cafeteria as long as you didn't look too closely at the food. You especially did not want to open a sandwich. I got brave once and took a peek. I had friends arguing that they usedl soy meal but I will take an oath on my mother's head that I saw flakes."

"What did you do?"

"I added more mustard and ketchup, closed it, and ate it." Chase took a handful of crushed peppermint out of the bag and began to carefully press it to the side of the cake. He stood back and considered the effect, then nodded. "If I'd waited till the icing set up, it wouldn't have stuck, but this is just about perfect." He continued to work. "This is going to look just like a cake I saw in an old Pillsbury Bake Off cookbook. You wouldn't happen to have one of those disposable cameras, would you? I'd love a picture of it."

"Um... afraid not. But I like the idea of cameras."

"Oh, no you don't. I'm not about to have anything that could turn up on a website."

"Chase!"

"Oh, I know you wouldn't, honey, but things like that have a tendency to slip out. Ask any celebrity who's ever appeared in the tabloids. There! Now all I need is the chocolate syrup, but first..." He went to the sink and washed his hands. "Or next time the bottle might stick in your hands." William broke the hamburger up in a bowl, sprinkled it lavishly with salt and pepper, then cracked an egg into it and sprinkled in a little bread crumbs. He flexed his fingers for a moment, then began to squish the mixture all together. "You did wash your hands, didn't you?"

"When you weren't looking."

"Thank God."

"Oops! I nearly forgot." He went to the refrigerator and came back with a bottle, showing it to Chase. "I'm going to use some of your Worcestershire sauce. Mrs. Fieldstone told me about that trick." William sprinkled in a lavish splash, then mixed up the hamburgers, patted them into neat patties, and started them frying. He glanced over and saw Chase, tongue poking from the side of his mouth in concentration, carefully drawing concentric circles of chocolate. "You're a fussy little thing."

"Just wait till you see what I'm going to do. It's precious."

"I wouldn't expect any less from you. You want your bun toasted?"

Chase switched his ass, glancing at William coyly. "Maybe later." William laughed. "I want it grilled in the pan, so that it can soak up all those lovely, unhealthy fats and juices."

"Sounds good to me." Chase was drawing a butter knife over the top of the cake. "You're not cutting it already, are you?"

"While I personally don't have a problem with dessert first, no--I'm not. Can you leave the pan for a second?"

William lifted the patties out onto a plate and turned the fire down. "I can now." He came over, and Chase gestured at the cake. "Oh, wow. That is so cool." Chase had drawn the tip of the knife from the center to the edge of the cake, like the spokes of a wheel, reversing the direction each time, and it had drawn the chocolate circles out into little points. "It looks like a spider web, sort of."

"Yes, well, they aren't getting this at The Catacombs. Go grill the buns and I'll get the rabbit food and slatherings out of the fridge. Do you want onions?"

"Will you kiss me later if I have them?"

"Hell yes. Can you say the same in my case?"

"As you said, hell yes."

"Bad breath together--the only way to go."

William browned the buns, then cleaned the bowl and skillet while Chase quickly built the burgers, being lavish with the toppings. "Those patties look like they came out nice and juicy. Better be sure we have napkins, because otherwise we're going to drip down our elbows. I suppose you're going to insist on having pickle on yours?"

"Yes."

"I love you, anyway. Do you have chips? Hamburgers should really be accompanied by potato products."

"I picked up an extra bag, so we wouldn't have to dip into what you got for the party. That cabinet. What do you want to drink?"

"I work in a diner, would I want anything other than a soda with a hamburger?"

"How about a rootbeer?"

"Yummy. You're getting to know me very well."

They sat down and made their way through a very satisfactory dinner. William outlined another commercial he was going to suggest for Resurge--one that teased the people who played Frisbee with their dogs**. Chase told William about Bootsie's decision to attend business college. William promised to set Bootsie up with interviews when he graduated, since he had inside knowledge of many businesses that had liberal attitudes in their hiring practises.

When they were done William loaded the dishwasher while Chase started pulling ingredients out of the cabinet. "I'll start the trash mixes first, since they're really best if they have a day or so to sit up. I'm going to need your biggest mixing bowl and roasting pan--actually more than one, if you have them."

"I think Mrs. Fieldstone collects cooking impliments as a hobby. Big bowl, eh? I have just the thing." Chase started opening cereal boxes. "Will this be big enough?"

Chase turned around casually, then almost fell back against the counter. "Good God!" William was cradling a crockery bowl almost three feet in diameter. "You could bathe a toddler in that thing."

"Great, isn't it?" William examined the bowl, which was a creamy white, with a blue rim. "According to my mother, it was given to her grandmother as a wedding gift. It's a bowl for making bread, from back when all the housewives made their own loaves about once a week. Will it suit?"

"I freakin' love it!" He patted the counter. "Park it right here. This is going to make things SO much easier. I won't have to mix things in batches." He started dumping the boxes of cereal into it. "Are you going to help, or are you just going to stand there and look gorgeous?"

"Tell me what to do."

"First you need to melt two sticks of butter. The usual recipe calls for one, but I'm doubling it. You can do it in the microwave, but you'll need to cover it so that it doesn't pop all over the inside of the oven." He upended the bag of plain pretzels into the bowl, reached in, and stirred it around. "Mix in one tablespoon of season salt and two tablespoons of Worcestershire sauce, then give it a few good shakes of hot sauce. The original recipe calls for red pepper, but I prefer the sauce. blends in better, and you don't have to worry about it clumping anywhere." He opened a can of mixed nuts and fished out a couple of curved nuts. Munching them he said, "I hope the bar patrons realize that I'm making a sacrifice by not sorting out all the cashews and devouring them immediately. Oo! I nearly forgot!" He hustled over to the oven, turning the knob. "I ought to be spanked for almost forgetting to preheat."

"How hot?" William had finished putting the ingredients into a large Pyrex measuring cup, and now he put waxed paper over it and put it in the microwave.

"Almost cool. Only two-fifty. We don't want it to burn, you know. But it's going to be in there for an hour." Chase went back and stared into the bowl of cereal, pretzels, and nuts. "I wonder if I should have gotten some cheese crackers to go with this? But we're going to have so much cheese..."

The microwave beeped, and William brought the measuring cup of oily liquid to Chase, carrying it carefully. He watched as Chase drizzled the liquid over the mixture with one hand, and reached into a drawer with the other, coming up with a wooden spoon. "You found that without even looking," said William.

"I have a confession. I sometimes poke around in here when you're busy doing something else. Sorry."

"Don't be. I really like the idea of you being at home here."

Chase stretched up and kissed him on the nose, then stirred the mixture. Without being asked William brought out a huge roasting pan. Chase dumped the mix in, spreading it evenly, and popped it in the oven. "Now, I'm ready for some of that cake."

"Sounds like a plan. You know where the plates and silverware are--I'll get the milk."

They sat at the table and Chase cut thick slices of cake. After a few mouthfuls he bounced up to stir the mix, then sat back down. William pointed at the cake with his fork. "Mrs. Fieldstone is a great cook, but I think the decorations make it."

"I'd curtsy if I had a skirt."

They ate for a little longer, then William noticed that Chase was resting his elbow on the table, resting his chin in his hands, and staring at William. "What?"

"Nothing."

William sat back. "C'mon, Chase."

Chase sighed. "Oh, it's just that I have a dream coming true here."

William blinked. "Eating cake?"

"No, this." He waved his hand between them. "Being here with you, comfortable, not having to work at anything." He rubbed his forehead and said softly. "I've never had to worry about sex--sex has always come easy for me. Intimacy... hasn't been as easy. There was an incident in my past..." He bit his lip, and his expression was serious. William became still, realizing that Chase was leaving himself open, revealing something very real. "Will, before I really realized what I was, I knew what I wanted. I wanted a boyfriend. Not a girlfriend, because girlfriends required being taken care of, and courted, and that's what I wanted for myself. I wanted someone to make me feel special, but most of all someone I could just be with, and know that someone was thinking about me, caring about me, wondering what sort of a day I had, hoping I was all right..." He trailed off. "I'm not making much sense."

William reached out and covered Chase's hand with his, saying quietly, "You're making perfect sense, baby."

"Oh, drat." Chase pulled his hand away and wiped quickly at his eyes. "I didn't want to get maudlin."

William sat back, picking up his fork again. "Chase, there's a difference between being maudlin and expressing genuine emotion. One thing that I love about you is that you aren't afraid of expressing your emotions."

Chase smiled. "Drama queen, me."

William smiled back at him. "Just vehement about life."

They finished the cake, then Chase watched William putting the cake plates, glasses, and forks in the dishwasher. "You empty a plate, you wash it. My mother would love you."

"I'd like to think so," said William, as he sifted in powder and shut the dishwasher. "I didn't ever really have to do housework, aside from keeping my room shoveled out, but I had the right theories and attitudes instilled." Chase was leaning back against the counter, arms and ankles crossed as he waited. "Now," he pushed the button on the washer, then braced his hands on either side of Chase's hips and leaned in toward him, peering into his face. Grinning, he said, "What shall we do now?"

Chase rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, pretending to consider. "Oh, I don't know... Let me think. We could play Scrabble. I think that Survivor might be on. We could sort your CD or DVD collection..."

"We could watch porn and have sex."

Chase dropped his eyes quickly to William's face, and he gasped. "Why, I'd never have thought of that! Especially since you never showed me any porn."

"What about the magazines?"

"You didn't show those to me. I found them when I got your briefs for you out of your underwear drawer." He lifted an eyebrow at William. "Underwear drawer? Only slightly less cliche than your sock drawer. You're a grown, single man, Will, so you can leave them out on the bedside table if you like."

"I'm a grown single man with a nice lady housekeeper, and I don't want to feel like blushing every time she makes my bed."

"You've convinced me." Chase wiggled. "What shall we see?"

"You can take your pick. C'mon."

William led Chase into the recreation room--the one with the big screen tv (among other things). There was an entertainment center beside it. William reached behind it and came up with a key. "I've got one of those 'hide a key' things." He unlocked a cabinet. "This way I don't have to worry if I have visitors with small children."

"What if you just have nosy visitors?"

Then I'd just think it was none of their damn business what turned me on." William gestured to two shelves crammed with video tapes and DVD cases. "Browse away, baby boy. I'll be happy with anything you pick--I don't keep smut I don't enjoy."

Chase happily dropped down to sit cross-legged, so he'd be comfortable, and started pulling movies out. "Bareback Mountain, Intertwined with a Vampire, Cream Puffs, Fresh-Men, Baby Oil Orgy... Oo." He turned the box in several directions. "So help me, I can't tell where what begins and whoosit ends."

"That one has a six way, and everyone gleaming and sliding."

Chase stared at him. "How ever...?"

"Giving and getting fellatio, buggery, and simultaneous hand jobs on each side."

"But that's..." Chase counted. "Five."

"I forgot to mention that the guy doing the buggering was getting buggered in tandem."

Chase whistled, setting it to the side. "I'm not sure if that's the one for tonight, but I want it for future reference. Let's see... Hairy Hotter and the Wizard's Willie**. Oh, JKR would NEVER approve of that." He set it aside. "If they try for Draco Malfoy and the Weasleys, that DEFINITELY goes on the pile. Maltese F*ckin'..." Chase dropped over sideways, howling, and William watched indulgently. Finally Chase sat back up, sniffing. "How on God's green earth did I miss that one? Is it really a parody of the Falcon?"

William nodded. "Unlike a lot of gay movies, they do have a woman in it. They keep Bridget O'Shaunessy. She's a red head, and they call her Bricktop O'Shornpussy." Chase had to lie over again for a minute. When he caught his breath, William continued. "She tries to vamp every man in the movie, and they're more interested in each other. You should see what the Sam Spade character does to the Wilmer character."

"I'll have to. In the future pile. Tool Men--ah, construction workers. Pitchers and Catchers--baseball. It's a good thing I'm attracted to men who are a little more filled out than I was in high school, otherwise gym class could have been awkward. Summer School Hotties. Campy Councilors." Chase was smiling. He tapped his fingers thoughtfully, giving William a coy look. "I'm noticing that a lot of the boys on the covers bear something of a physical resemblance to me."

William had sat beside him, and Chase was a little surprised when William leaned over, then just kept going. As Chase leaned back, William moved over him till he was crouched over the boy, straddling him on his hands and knees. "You noticed that, huh?" William ran his hands down Chase's sides. "Young, tender, a little soft, but not exactly girlie. Yes, that was my type."

Chase arched an eyebrow at him. "Was your type?"

"Yes. Now I don't have a type." William bent down and kissed him. "I have a fella. Having a type means that you're open to substitution."

Chase wrapped his arms and legs around William. "That's one of the sweetest things I've ever heard. You get tongue for that." Chase kissed William, and his tongue received a warm and enthusiastic welcome. Chase felt William stroking his fly, and pulled back a little, saying coyly, "Porn first?"

He gasped as William gently nipped at his bottom lip. "All right. But expect to get thoroughly molested very soon."

"I'm counting on it."

William climbed off him. "What did you decide on?"

"Um..." Chase rummaged. "I think this one." He handed it over.

William took it. "Hot for Teacher? Mm--good choice." He glanced at Chase. "Unless non-consensual bothers you?"

"As long as it's fantasy, and not vicious--no."

"And there's a little corporal punishment thrown in."

Chase clasped his hands, fluttering his eyelashes. "Bonus!"

"It's kind of fakey. There are some available that are the real deal, but I don't deal with them. Too much of a chance of things getting out of hand, and I'm not going to be involved in that."

"Ethical darling."

William popped the DVD into the player while Chase went to sit on the big, over stuffed couch. When William joined him he said, "Scoot down to the end, baby." Chase did, and William laid down, turning on his side to face the television, and laying his head on Chase's thighs. "Classic boyfriend position--head in lap."

Chase stroked his hair. "I love it."

"You better." William snagged the remote from the coffee table and turned on the television.

There was about thirty seconds worth of credits, then the went into what looked vaguely like a classroom. They'd at least managed to get desks instead of putting them at tables. The room looked very sparcely populated for a modern classroom, though. William reflected that you probably couldn't find that low a student-to-teacher ratio anywhere but in a one room schoolhouse. You could see a couple of other men and women (ah, the old problem of aged teenagers in movies), but the focus was two young men. They at least did look like they were in their late teens. They came across as fairly typical snotty teenagers--ones with precious little respect for any authority, and their teacher in particular.

They were bitching about the traditional first day of school assignment--What I Did This Summer. Chase was nodding. "They did that to us up to my junior year--then they switched it to 'What I Plan to Do This Year'."

The blond boy, Jason, complained, "I'm sure they don't even read the crap. I could probably write a page of 'fuck you' and get a B on it."

The dark haired one called Sean said, "Dare you to do it." Grinning, Jason started to write. Sean chuckled. "I'm not as brave as you. I'm going to write that I learned how to give blow jobs, but I'm going to bury it in the paragraph."

The scene faded and when it came up it was supposed to be the next day. They must have saved money on continuity, though, because everyone was wearing exactly the same clothes. A stern looking man, a few years older than the 'students' was passing back papers. When he came to Sean and Jason he passed them by, leaving them empty handed, and then dismissed the class, asking them to stay behind. When the class emptied out he sat at his desk with two pages before him and indicated that they should stand before him. They were nervous now.

They had reason to be. He cut into them for their disrespect, time wasting, and not taking anything seriously. And their spelling and grammar. "There isn't much you can get wrong with 'Fuck you', Jason--though you might have varied the punctuation to give it some added interest. But you, Sean. If you're going to get ambitious, you should be sure of your facts first. You mispelled 'fellatio'. Maybe a little practical experience would help you. You do know what fellatio is?"

"Of course I do," protested Sean.

"Demonstrate."

"What?" Total shock.

The teacher gestured. "Oh your friend. Demonstrate."

Jason laughed. "Yeah. Blow me."

The teacher's voice was like a whip. "I'm not playing with you two!" He went on to say that he could have them suspended, or even expelled for their little stunt. If they didn't want that to happen, they'd better obey every order he gave them, now Jason needed to open his pants, and Sean needed to get on his knees and start sucking.

They did. There was a good bit of protest, most of it coming from Sean (Jason seemed all right with the idea of being sucked off by his friend), but it got done, to Jason's very evident satisfaction. During the performance the teacher had exposed himself and begun masturbating as he watched. He occasionally lectured them about taking the blow job seriously, because they had to have something in their lives they treated with care, and it might as well be sex. Sean finished by swallowing Jason's load. Jason started to tuck himself away, assuring Sean that he'd never say a word about this. The teacher said he imagined that he wouldn't, because now he was going to show Jason the true meaning of 'fuck you', so he could just push his pants down the rest of the way.

Chase was chuckling. "I should have seen that one coming--if you'll pardon the expression."

"Hey, good porn often contains puns." William was rubbing his face on Chase's lap. It was very warm, and he could feel a firm lump under his cheek.

Chase felt a tugging at his pants, then a slight breeze where there shouldn't have been one. He looked down curiously to see that William had lifted his head just enough to allow himself to open Chase's pants. "What are you doing, you naughty man?"

"I told you I was going to molest you. Watch the screen, sit still, and be violated."

"All right." Chase obediently turned his eyes back to the screen, tingling with anticipation.

The teacher had bent Jason over his desk. Chase wondered a little where the man had gotten the lubricant that he was working into the boy's rapidly loosening asshole. *Because if teachers routinely keep personal lubricant in their desks, I missed a lot in high school.* He felt William take him into his mouth just as the teacher mounted the student and started fucking him with abandon. "Will?" said Chase softly. "You're missing an awful good show."

William pulled off him, letting Chase's spit-slick erection pop out. "I've seen it, baby. Just enjoy yourself--I am." he went back to devouring his lover, working with skill and enthusiasm.

Chase sat back and watched the teacher as he finished, jerking free of the student's reddened hole to shoot his come on the boy's back, then reach around and bring the no longer reluctant student to completion with a few harsh tugs. While the chastened boys were rearranging their clothes, and making plans for 'private tutoring' with the teacher during the semester, Chase climaxed himself, feeling William tenderly massage his balls as he drew Chase's come down his throat. Chase simply basked, feeling entertained, comfortable, contented, loved, and as sexy as hell.

"Okay," said Chase. "Your turn."

William sat back up, then went to pop the DVD out of the player. "I'm good. How about the Harry Potter one next? They've got red headed 'twins' in it."

"Yummy."

William put the DVD in the player and came back to sit beside Chase. Chase was eyeing William's crotch. "What?"

"Well... Didn't you enjoy what we just did?"

"Are you kidding me?" William took Chase's hand and pressed it to his crotch, molding his fingers over the bulge. "Give it a squeeze and tell me I didn't enjoy myself."

Chase smiled. "That's better." He reached for the zipper, but William caught his hand. "Will? I don't understand."

"I'm planning on just enjoying being aroused tonight. You DO know that the old 'it'll hurt me if I don't come' line is malarky, right?"

"Uncle Mortimer told me that any guy who used it was just plain lazy and had no respect for women, and if he actually believed it himself he was too stupid to be allowed out without a keeper."

"I'm hoping to meet Uncle Mortimer some day, too. I'd already decided that tonight was going to be your night, Chase, but what you said a minute ago clinched it. You said it was my turn. Sweetheart, in this relationship we do not keep score. Can't you picture it? Wait! Don't screw me, give me a blow job instead. That'll bring us up even." Chase was giggling. "Laugh, doll. But I've known relationships that have degenerated into that." He stroked Chase's cheek. "There's nothing wrong with one partner giving a little more some of the time. There's nothing wrong with accepting. As long as it's done with love. You see, Chase, I know beyond doubt that you'd do anything for me, and that makes me want to take care of you. Besides..." he smirked. "I occasionally practise delayed gratification. The longer I can keep an erection without coming," he pinched Chase's chin, "the better for you."

"You're a marvel and a treasure. Okay, I won't try to bring you off unless you tell me that's what you want--tonight." He cut his eyes sideways at William as he turned on the DVD. "I'm not going to swear that you won't be groped now and then, though."

And groped he was, but in an occasional, playful manner. And when William asked Chase to stop so that he could avoid taking a cold shower, he did. That night they slept spooned together, but this time it was Chase plastered up against William's back. As they dropped off to sleep, Chase muttered that if they woke up in the same position he could just tighten his arms, and they'd be in a perfect position for William to give him a piggy-back ride. It didn't happen, because they woke up in the usual position, with William curved around Chase.

Ever since that first time, Chase had dressed before going out of the bedroom, so Mrs. Fieldstone hadn't gotten any more naked surprises. When they went into the kitchen, she was pulling a coffee cake out of the oven. She glanced up. "Kitchen was spotless when I came in. I hope my girls marry boys like you." Chase giggled, and she shrugged. "Well, sort of."

She set the pan on a trivet, and Chase came to lean over it, sniffing. "As I live and breathe--peach!"

Mrs. Fieldstone laughed. "Chase, you talk like my grandmother used to."

"I not only preserve the past, I practise it. I see no reason why perfectly good sayings should be dropped from our speech. Is that ready to cut?"

"As long as you don't mind eating it with a fork. If you try to pick up a slice, it'll just fall apart."

"Fine by me." He held up a finger, as if making a point. "Butter!"

Mrs. Fieldstone had eaten breakfast before leaving home, but she concented to join them in a slice of the coffee cake, and she and Chase debated the merits of honey-butter and cinnamon-butter as a spread for breakfast cakes. William just ate and listened to them after he mentioned Nutella, and they both rolled their eyes. Mrs. Fieldstone gathered the plates, saying, "So, you're going to need me out of the kitchen today, Chase?"

"Not till this evening," he said. "Actually, the stuff I'm making doesn't take all that long, and it'll go even more quickly because I'm not going to have to be making it in multiple batches. If I had tomorrow off I could probably wait and do it them, but most of it really is better if it has a few hours to sit and sort of... cure." He pointed to a small Tupperware container. "That's for you."

Her face brightening, Mrs. Fieldstone got up immediately and opened the container. "Oo, doesn't it smell spicy and nice."

"Careful--it has a little bit of a bite to it. William was lavish with the hot sauce."

"You should see him dressing his eggs at breakfast."

"I have, and you're right. It almost looked like he'd poured ketchup on them." Chase looked over at William. "Hon, are you sure you don't have some Texan or Louisiannan in your bloodline? I've never known anyone else from Illinoise who loved the spicy stuff like you."

"Not me," said William. "Mrs. Fieldstone, are you sure you won't mind staying over?"

"I've said I wouldn't," said the woman. "My husband is going to be handing out candy at our place, and I can very well stay over till about ten to hand it out here."

"Positive? Because we could just leave a bowl of the candy outside, with a sign telling the kids to help themselves to a piece."

Mrs. Fieldstone and Chase both laughed. "Listen to the innocent," said Mrs. Fieldstone. "You're providing mini candy bars. The whole bowl would go into the first or second bag that got carried up to the door. I'm not one of those who believe that all children are natural thieves, but when you present them with unlimited access to free candy--even the good can backslide. Now, will you need lunch today?"

William looked at Chase. "I was going to suggest the museum, or shopping, and lunch out."

Chase looked at him from under his lashes. "Can we do both?"

"No." Chase stuck out his bottom lip. "Of course we can, you twit. What do you say to Neiman Marcus?"

Chase gave him a round-eyed look. "I say it's way beyond my means. Mom told me a joke about that store once. Neiman Marcus was the place to shop by all the upper crust, old money families. So one of the new, oil rich decided they could shop there, too, and he'd do it with style. He swaggered into the flagship store, strutting up to the first counter he came to. He whipped out a check book, picked up a fountain pen, clicked it, and said..." Chase made his voice smug and snotty, "'What can I buy for a hundred dollars?' The clerk said, 'You're holding it.'"

They had a good laugh over that. "I heard the one about the woman who asked for the recipe of a cookie they sold in their store restaurant," said Mrs. Fieldstone, "and she later received a bill for $250 dollars, so she got even by distributing it to everyone she could."

"Urban myth," said Chase. "That one was going around even before the Internet. I heard it was the recipe for red velvet cake." Chase made a face. "I love the look and texture of that cake, but the red food dye sometimes gives it a little bitter taste. Same way with icing. That's why I refuse to attempt red icing. Pink is fine--red is so bitter that you have to scrape it off."

"Speaking of scraping things off," said William, getting up. "I want a quick shave before we go." He winked at Chase. "So certain people don't have to worry about whisker burns. Be right back."

He headed back toward the bedroom, and Chase took a seat at the table again. Mrs. Fieldstone got another cup of coffee, saying, "I'll have one more cup before I tackle those bathrooms."

"You won't have to tackle them hard," said Chase. "I've worked in kitchens that weren't that clean." He made a face. "Doesn't sound very nice, does it?"

"I know what you mean," she assured him.

Chase was tracing the wood grain in the tabletop, keeping his eyes on his fingertip, and he said almost casually, "William's an awful good host. Is he this gracious with all his guests?"

Mrs. Fieldstone studied Chase, letting the question hang in the air for a minute, then said, "Well, I couldn't say. As long as I've been working for him he's only had, like, dinner guests. He's never had a sleep-over guest--except you." When he looked up, Chase's face was shining. *I think he knows,* Mrs. Fieldstone thought, *But people like to be told every onw and then.*

They went to the museum, and spent most of the time in the Greecian exhibit. The centerpiece of the display was a life sized statue of a Greek youth, naked save for a laurel wreath and a swatch of stone cloth over his shoulders. After William mentioned that the boy bore a distinct resemblance to Chase, his lover stood next to the statue, copying the pose. A couple of Japanese tourists quickly snapped a picture of him there, nodding their thanks, and the rest of their group came over, asking him to repeat the pose so they could have pictures, too. "Well, all right," said Chase, once again striking the pose. "But I'm not stripping. People get paid good money for that."

William mentioned that they had a special service of tea in the Neiman Marcus restaurant, so they decided to go there. They were presented with tea and a lavish assortment of finger sandwiches, cookies, tartlettes, cakes, and bon bons. Chase munched happily, and noticed William eying the sandwiches wryly. "William, go ahead and order some real food. This is fine for me, but you need something a little more solid if you don't want to have borborigme all afternoon."

"I'm glad you're understanding," said William, calling the waitress over, "Miss, I'll have a double ham and swiss sandwich on wheat toast, plenty of mustard and mayonaise. And a pickle." Chase, eating a cucumber sandwich, wrinkled his nose at him.

She scribbled quickly. "Yes sir. Potato salad or slaw with that?"

"Both."

"Thank goodness," said Chase. "Or I'd have worried about walking you through the gourmet food section when we left. I saw how you were eyeing those tins of biscotti."

"One of them is coming home with us."

As they ate Chase said, "It's all going to be window shopping, you know. I can't afford anything here."

"I have my credit card."

"And it'll stay in your wallet. My birthday is in the spring. Be thinking about something nice for then."

"Careful. I'm going to have months to think--there's no telling what you might end up with."

"As long as I don't have to feed or walk it. And that wouldn't bother me if we were allowed to keep pets."

When they finished the meal they made their way downstairs. Chase didn't know which department to visit first. "Though I'm rather afraid to actually touch anything," he whispered to William. He finally decided. "I'm wearing clean socks. I think I want to try on a couple of pairs of those delicious Italian shoes."

William patted him on the shoulder. "Have fun, baby. I'll be right back. I have to run to the men's room. All that tea."

Chase stepped into the shoe department and immediately had two clerks begin pampering him. They knew very well that they wouldn't make a sale from every customer, but they treated them like they would. That upped the chance that a sale missed this time might be made up later.

William found the men's room on the same floor. He was on his way back to Chase when he stopped abruptly, something to the side catching his attention. He looked toward the shoe department. He could barely see the top of Chase's head, and he seemed to be well attended. William made a quick detour into the jewelry department.

He went straight to one of the cases displaying rings. The woman in charge of that section gave him a moment to himself, then approached. "Can I help you with anything in particular?"

"This is very, very speculative," said William. "I'm not sure where my relationship is going, but I have high hopes."

She smiled. "I'm so happy for you! If it does reach a happy conclusion, we're well equipped to supply you with engagement and wedding rings."

"Mm." William looked at her directly. "I haven't read Emily Post on the most current way of doing things. Tell me--is it considered the done thing to give your intended an engagement ring if he's of the same sex as you?" She blinked at him. "Something?"

"I was just going to say that as far as I know there's no hard and fast etiquette. It all depends on the personalities of those involved, and the couple dynamics. Does he like jewelry?"

William smiled. "Oh, yes." He turned his eyes back to the display of rings. "But I don't think diamonds--not for engagement. Maybe anniversary. For engagement I'd think a colored stone would be better." His fingertips skated over the case, not quite touching the glass. "That amythist is beautiful. And the opal is nice..." He shrugged. "I don't even know what size he takes." He gave her sheepish smile. "Like I said, it's tentative."

Her professional smile softened into something more genuine. "I hope it becomes firm." She handed him a card. "If it does, just ask for me, and I'll be happy to help you with anything you want."

"Thanks."

William took a quick detour so that he approached the shoe department from the men's wear section. Chase was admiring how his feet looked in a pair of sleek black loafers that looked like they cost as much as some second hand cars. "Hey, kiddo, you about through here? I saw some ties I want to show you."

"Ties?" The clerk carefully slipped off the shoes, replacing them in their box while Chase started to put his own back on. "Will, I only wear ties to church, or to restaurants I can't afford."

"These have the Three Stooges and the characters from The Wizard of Oz on them." Using a Bert Lahr Cowardly Lion voice he sang, "I'm afraid there's no denyin', I'm just a dandy lion..." On the word 'dandy' he gestured with a loose wrist.

Chase jumped up. "I'm there!"

William folded his arms. "You're getting it."

Chase laid the back of his hand against his forehead. "No, no, a thousand times no."

"Chase, I respect you. I promise not to try to drape you with jewels and furs, but you're getting the tie. In fact, you're getting both of them--the one with the Cowardly Lion on it, and the one with the penguin."

Chase (who was being watched with utter bafflement by the haberdashery clerk) dropped his pose. "My virtuous intentions went right out the window when I saw Opus. How can I turn down a tie that proclaims the joys of Penguine Lust?"

"Wrap them up," said William, pulling out his wallet. "Chase, are you sure you won't take the Three Stooges one?"

"Not this time around, but now you have an idea for my Christmas present." Chase smiled charmingly at the clerk, who was tucking the purchases in a bag. "I'm afraid I've just acquired a new hobby--collecting neckties. Well, now no one will have to dither about a gift for me."

The clerk, who might have been a bit rocky on the same-gender couple issue, knew which side his bread was buttered on. He smiled back. "Just send them here, and I'll pull out the stock that they think is too wild for most of our regualr customers."

"I'll keep that in mind." William completed the transaction, with Chase sheilding his eyes from the total. As they walked away Chase said, "I'll keep it in mind, if any of my relatives comes into a sudden inheritance. In fact, now that I have those ties, I'm going to have to make out a will because I now have something of value."

It was decided that they would go back to William's house, because Chase wanted to have plenty of energy to finish his snacks. As William was cutting off the ignition, Chase grabbed the Neiman Marcus bag. "I've got to show Mrs. Fieldstone!" He dug in the bag.

"What are you doing?" asked William.

Chase debated between the tie, then hung the one featuring the Cowardly Lion around his neck and quickly tied it in a very neat, respectable knot. He tipped down his visor and admired himself in the mirror on the back. "I was born to be a runway model, except that I'm about four or five inches too short." He opened the door and trotted toward the house.

"Hang on, hang on!" William called, coming after him. "For one thing, I have to let you in, and for another, I wouldn't miss this for the world."

"Good. You can be my DJ. Are you familiar witht he works of Right Said Fred?"

"Chase? I'm gay."

"Forgive me for doubting you. Here's what you do..."

William went into the house, calling, "Mrs. Fieldstone?"

She came out of the back of the house. Peering around him, she said, sounding a little disappointed, "Did Chase have to go home early?"

"Oh, no." He took hold of her arms and guided her into a chair. "Have a seat. I don't want you standing up for this." He took a couple of steps back and moved to the side. Clearing his throat, he said, "Mi, mi, mi..." She was starting to chuckle. He tried to give her a severe look, saying, "Hold onto it for as long as you can." He started singing. "I'm too sexy for my love, too sexy for my love. Love's going to leave me. I'm too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt, so sexy it hurts..."

Chase's voice from outside called, "Did he take off his shirt?"

William raised his voice, "I told you I'm not stripping."

"Spoilsport."

"Listen for your cue." He started singing again. "And I'm too sexy for Milan, too sexy for Milan, New Your and Japan. And I'm too sexy for your party, too sexy for your party, no way I'm disco dancing..."

The door burst open and Chase did a very respectable Risky Business slide on the entry way tile. "Like hell I'm not!" He started boogying a la Saturday Night Fever as he sang, "I'm a model, you know what I mean, and I do my little turn on the catwalk." He'd gotten close to a weakly giggling Mrs. Fieldstone and now he bent over, flipping the tie at her coyly, giving her a good look. "On the catwalk, yeah, on the catwalk." He turned and wiggled his behind at her. "I shake my little tushie on the catwalk..."

"Please!" She was holding her sides.

Chase stopped, grinning at her, a hand on his hip. "Laughing, face flushed, can't catch her breath. My work here is done."

She was shaking her head. "If you're around very much, I'm going to have to start carrying oxygen."

William looped an arm around Chase's neck. "Shall we just have it delivered here, or do you want some for at home, when you tell your husband about the insanity?"

"What makes you think I talk about your nonsense at home?" she said, amused.

Chase bumped William with his hip. "If you don't, I'm losing my touch. I have to go get the bag. I hated leaving it outside, but it wouldn't have gone with the routine." He trotted back to the front door and returned with the shopping bag. "Thank goodness, no one stole it."

As Chase removed the tie and carefully tucked it into the bag, William said, "I wouldn't like to think that my neighbors would do that."

"Oh, they'd tell themselves 'he must've forgotten it, so I'll just keep it safe for him'. But I bet you a nickle that if you had a garden gnome out there, it would *cough* 'travel'. Now..." He rubbed his hands together. "I'm off to finish up the snack making. Don't worry--I'll treat the kitchen gently."

As he headed toward the kitchen (at a bustle--Chase usually didn't move slowly unless he was doing it deliberately, for effect) Mrs. Fieldstone called, "I trust you." A Snidely Whiplash laugh floated back to her. She glanced at a grinning William. "That boy's crazy, but I guess the world could use a little more of that type of crazy." She stood up. "All I have left to do is change the sheets. You're sure you don't want me to stay and fix dinner?"

"Believe me, if I want, I'll ask. I just want..." He gestured vaguely.

"You don't have to tell me," said Mrs. Fieldstone. "It'd be pretty bad if you couldn't have an evening alone with your sweety when you don't even have a family to work around. If I don't see you again before I leave, I'll see you tomorrow, as usual."

William went into the kitchen to find Chase standing at the stove, bending over a pot. "What are we doing now?"

"Getting the coating going for the sweet trash," said Chase. "I like to boil it a little. That makes it set up as a nice glaze when it's baked." William watched as Chase squeezed almost all of the bottle of honey into the pot, then added a little sugar, a little white Karo syrup, and some vanilla extract." He handed a wooden spoon to William. "Be a doll and keep stirring that. It a syrup starts to burn, you're done for. There's no way to get rid of the burned flavor. If it starts to boil up too high," he pointed, "There's the knob--you know what to do with it."

"Yes, sir."

Chase giggled. "Doesn't sound quite natural when you say it to me, does it? Where's that lovely big bowl?"

"That cabinet over there--bottom section."

Chase pulled the bowl out. "Oof! Damn, I could develope muscles if I had to carry this around much." He used his toe to push the cabinet shut and lugged the bowl over to the counter. "You know, next time I'm having you move that. I'd want to cut my throat if I dropped your many-greats grandma's heirloom." He came over and leaned against William for a moment, then set the knob on the oven, patted it, and went back to the counter.

William didn't comment, but he was smiling as he looked down into the pot of bubbling amber liquid. *He said 'next time'. He isn't asking if there's going to be a next time.* He continued stirring as he watched Chase start the second batch of snacks. He emptied the boxes of Golden Grahams, Sugar Pops, and Honey-nut Cheerios into the bowel first. Then he dumped in the tiny honey-mustard pretzels, saying, "The mustard flavor will be just enough to point up the sweetness of everything else." Next he sprinkled in the honey-roasted peanuts, and the toffee nuts. "Is this all the toffee nuts?"

"Yes, we finished off the other bag last night."

"We?"

"All right, I finished them off."

"Confession is good for the soul." He spread the mixture in the roasting pan, then tucked it into the oven. "Let's check that syrup." He got a wide, shallow bowl and filled it with cold tap water. Setting it on the counter by the stove he said, "Drip some in that."

"Why?"

"They really didn't let you hang around in the kitchen much when you were a kid, did they? When you're cooking with a sugar syrup there are different stages of doneness. Of course the modern, exact method is to use a candy thermometer, but I don't have one. That's..."

"On the list. We might have one, but I've no idea where."

"So we're using the old fashioned method. You drop a little in cold water and see how it sets up. If you can gather it into a soft ball, it's soft ball stage--duh. That's what you want for fudge. It goes all the way up to hard crack, which is what you want for, say, butterscotch. I'm looking for something in between. Threads." William dripped some of the syrup in the water. Chase paddled his fingers in it, scooping the amber liquid together. When he pulled it out, William saw that it held together, but oozed and drooped. "Not long enough." Chase licked the test blob off his fingers, then went to wash his hands. "Just as well. I want that cereal to toast a little more. Keep stirring."

"I wouldn't dare stop without permission."

Chase considered the pot, then nodded. "I think I have enough time to get the sausage balls started. I'm doing the very simple version--nothing but sausage, cheese, and baking mix." He slit open the two tubes of hot sausage and squeezed them out into the bowl, then measured in four cups of Bisquik, finally dumping in two bags of shredded sharp cheddar. "Pre-shredded cheeses are one of the great inventions of this century. Can you test that syrup again?"

"I can try."

"Good." Chase had put his hands into the bowl and was vigoruously squishing everything together. "Because I'm very goopy right now."

William dripped some syrup into the water, turned down the flame, set aside the spoon, and poked into the water. He carried the bowl over to Chase and lifted out some strings. "What does this mean?"

"It means take it off the fire, right now!" William hurried back to the stove while Chase was heading for the sink. "But be careful! People end up in emergency rooms from sugar syrup burns. And keep stirring."

Once his hands were clean Chase got a pot holder and took the roasting pan out, setting it on the counter. He stirred the mix. "Oh, this is crisping up nicely. Okay, now you have a very important job. I'm going to stir, and I want you to drizzle that into the pan, very slowly. Not in just one spot, either. Spread it around."

"No, I think I'll just dump it so that we end up with something like a giagantic popcorn ball. Start stirring."

They worked well as a team, and the mixture was soon evenly coated and spread out to dry. Chase turned the oven up a few degrees. "Now, while that's setting, you can help me roll the sausage balls."

William goosed Chase, making him jump and squeal. "I've been told that I'm very good at rolling balls."

Chase swatted him. "You'll make me blush, you awful man."

William carried the bowl of sausage-cheese-biscuit mix over to the table. "I love making you blush. You look about fourteen when you do. Gives me a cheap thrill."

Chase set a couple of cookie sheets on the table between them. "Now, walnut size is perfect, but definitely nothing larger than a ping-pong ball." He pinched up some of the mixture and started to roll it between his palms.

William pinched up some and started to form it. "That's going to make a lot of sausage balls."

"You have no idea how many of these a party can go through." Chase already had a half dozen balls sitting on his sheet. "Last time I brought some to The Catacombs they tossed them down like popcorn. The plate didn't last ten minutes, and then I was pestered for more the rest of the night. If I had access to a computer and printer, I'd print up the recipe so people who were so inclined could just grab one."

"What makes you think you don't have access to a computer and printer?" William placed another ball on his sheet, aligning it neatly. "You've been in my study."

Chase brightened. "Oo!" Then he slumped a little. "But it would take me forever to figure out how to do it, and I'm afraid your hard drive would be in danger of being wiped. We couldn't afford computers at school, and no one I know has had one since I moved here, so I haven't learned."

"You're going to start getting lessons, then," said William firmly. "I know that cooking school is mainly hands-on, but I refuse to believe that any sort of advanced education isn't easier with computer skills."

"But that's not an issue."

"It will be." William gave him a level look. "You're going to go to culinary school one of these days. You're too good not to."

Chase mimed a kiss at him. "I'd give you a thank you grope," he wiggled his sticky hands, "but I'd ruin your clothes."

It was just as well that Chase made a double batch of the sausage-cheese balls, because William found them addictive. Chase had set aside several for William before he slipped the cooled, golden brown balls into zip lock bags, but that ration hadn't lasted for long. Chase scolded William the first time he caught him sneaking one. The second time he threatened him with a wooden spoon. The third time he threatened to with hold sex. William squeezed his butt till Chase was rubbing against him. When Chase saw William's smug look he scowled, saying that sometimes confident people found out that they were being over confident, and that if William took any more of the snacks he was being held responsible for replacing them in kind. He also let his catty nature loose long enough to suggest sweetly that considering his costume and what he'd just eaten, William might want to make a trip to the gym before the party. William knew that he'd pushed Chase, so the snippy comment didn't really bother him. He did look down at his own flat abdomen speculatively, and think that it wouldn't hurt to go to the gym and pump up a little before the party. He wanted to do Chase proud, after all.

No sex that night, just cuddling and whisperings. It was easy to see that Chase had gotten over his irritation. Chase was so enthused about the upcoming party that he swore he wouldn't be able to sleep a wink. William laughed silently, his body shaking, when Chase started snoring softly five minutes after he'd said that.

That morning Chase and Mrs. Fieldstone bemoaned the state of society that had made it impossible to give out home made treats for Halloween. "They'd stopped doing it when I was a kid," said Chase, "except if you went to houses where you really, really knew the people. I was lucky in that we were a pretty close-knit community, so I got caramel apples without having to worry about biting into a razor blade. There were popcorn balls that would stick your jaws shut, and marshmallow fudge so light it almost floated up out of your bag."

Mrs. Fieldstone was nodding. "My mother used to talk about the nut brittle and home made marshmallows she'd get."

That had left William blinking. "Home made marshmallows?"

That gave Chase and Mrs. Fieldstone a laugh. "Honey," said Chase, "Do you think that marshmallows just sprang fully formed in Sty-Puft bags? Most candy, aside from the candy bars, was produced in some form or other at home long before it hit the market shelves. People used to make their own taffy, toffee, peppermints, butterscotch..."

"Oh, yeah!" William's eyes lit up. "I remember last night you mentioned about cooking the syrup till it would set up hard enough to crack for butterscotch."

"You know," said Mrs. Fieldstone, "Between the two of us, we may get this man educated to the ways of the kitchen eventually."

William dropped Chase off at his job, then went by Chase and Mona's place to pick up the spider webs they'd been weaving. When it was time to go to the party he'd load the snacks into the car, pick up Chase, then go on to the club. Then he and Mrs. Fieldstone spent most of the rest of the morning rolling slices of salami, ham, and turky into little cones, and pinning them with frilly toothpicks. William had intended to loan his family's pewter serving tray and china platters, but both Mrs. Fieldstone and Chase had vetoed that idea vehemently. "Will," , "This could very well be a bit of a brawl. I wouldn't have a peaceful moment. And besides, as nice as most of the patrons of The Catacombs are, some of them have fingers that are a bit lighter than they should be." William, who didn't often use his mother's 'good' things, but was fond of them for the memories of her they brought, agreed, and they used the molded plastic platters instead, wrapping them in cling film when they were done.

Then he ate a half dozen more of the sausage balls and had to go to the store for ingredients to make more, so that Chase would keep speaking to him when he found out (or hopefully he wouldn't find out at all). Mrs. Fieldstone was approached tentatively, but she said firmly that it was his own fault, and he could just deal with it. William did, better than he'd expected. He did have to call Mona and ask her to check in Chase's recipe file for the proper temperature of the oven, and he swore her to secrecy. He hoped that Chase wouldn't realize.

That evening he put the snacks in the back seat along with the costumes, then went to pick Chase up. Since Chase had to be at The Catacombs early, they had decided to change there, once things were set up. When William arrived at the diner Ernestine called, "Thank God you're here! He's been driving me crazy, singing along with The Monster Mash and Thriller."

"Thriller isn't fifties or sixties," said William.

"Yeah, but it's just so good for Halloween that they decided to make an exception. He can do that rap part in the best Vincent Price imitation I've ever heard. Little booger shouldn't be able to get his voice that deep."

Chase came out of the back, flipping his apron over his shoulder. "Saw you coming. I'm already punched out."

The man who'd relieved him the last time followed him out. "Yeah, and I had enough good sense to get here a few minutes early so that Ernie wouldn't be left juggling the place alone. Go remember what you promised."

As they left, William asked, "What did you promise?"

"Well, I told you that I'd booked tonight off well in advance? It wasn't really that easy. Clarence has seniority, so he has first choice. And he has kids, so he usually takes holidays off. I promised him something in return."

"Uh-huh. It wasn't your body, was it?"

"Nothing that delicious. I promised to make my Hummingbird Cake for his daughter's birthday next month." Chase wrinkled his nose. "He's a good cook, but not much of a baker." He twisted in his seat and peered at the contents of the back seat.

"I remembered to bring everything," William assured him.

"Uh-huh." Chase didn't turn around.

"You're checking to see if I ate more of those sausage balls," William accused.

"Uh-huh."

"Check the bags. They're all full."

"Uh-huh. Too full." Chase turned around and gave him a stern look. "There's significantly more than there was when I left this morning." William cast his eyes up at the ceiling, blushing a little. Chase leaned over and kissed him. "But you replaced what you ate, so it's all right. They look fine. A little browner than mine, but that's okay--a lot of people like them a little crunchy."

The Catacombs turned out to be a mid-sized club--good sized bar, DJ booth, and small dance floor surrounded by tables and booths. William had seen pictures of The Cavern--the pub where the Beatles had debuted back in the early sixties, and The Catacombs reminded him strongly of that. There wasn't a straight angle above shoulder height. The raw brick walls curved to form a domed roof, and all doorways were arches. William was glad to see that they'd gone for standard doors on the restrooms.

They were admitted by a girl with long pigtails. She was dressed as a Japanese schoolgirl--very cute, except for the copious amounts of blood that ran from what looked like a slit throat to soak her blouse. She noted Will's startled look and did a twirl for him. "Battle Royale."

"Wrestling?" said William doubtfully.

"And another film goes on the 'to see' list," said Chase. "It's a beauty, Winkle." He jerked a thumb at his lover. "William." She gave William a seductive smile. "Also known as 'mine'."

"Oops. Need help carrying anything?"

"Most assuredly. Will, if you'd escort this gorey geisha, I'll just go start draping the cobwebs."

Chase went inside, and William led the girl back to the Thunderbird and handed her several of the lighter, easier to carry items. She admired his ass as he bent down to reach into the car. "Boy, Chase got him a big, pretty one this time."

William straightened up, cocking an eyebrow. "What kind does he usually favor?"

"Big, pretty ones, but never for very long. He's been talking about you for a few months now." She knudged him with her toe, since her hands were full. "You've got staying power, dude. Way to go. He's a nice kid." She turned and headed for the club.

The snacks were lined up with a platter or two at intervals along the bar, with the reserve sitting under the counter. Chase was congratulated and heartily kissed in gratitude by several grateful staff members of various and indeterminate genders. William was dragooned into helping hang the spider webs, since he was taller than everyone but the man who'd come dressed as Jaws from the James Bond movies. When William wondered where he'd found the fake dental work he received a 'what do you mean, 'fake'? Those are just his teeth.'

Just before they were ready to open the club to the excited costumed crowd that was gathering outside, Chase and William went into the break room to get into their costumes. Chase got permission to help buckle and lace William into his costume, but only after promissing not to try any hanky-panky, since there wasn't time. William had worn his black iron nipple rings. He looked like enough to give a decadent Roman patrician, male or female, heart palpitations. Once William was dressed, Chase quickly stripped out of his own clothing to allow William to dress him in his costume.

They'd had an argument about the underwear. Chase wanted to go au natural, William didn't want to risk charges of indecent exposure. "Besides, baby, I want people to admire you, but if someone just grabbed your toga and jerked it up, flashing the crowd, I'd feel obligated to smack them stupid."

They'd compromised. Chase had quickly sewn together a couple of bandana, making a very creditable version of a breechclout. "Though I feel like the world's biggest baby in this," he complained.

"Infantilism is not one of my kinks," said William. "Hold still so I can get this done." The fabric was longer and narrower than a sheet. William folded down the long edge at the top, then wrapped it twice around Chase's waist, making sure that the hem only dropped a few inches down his thighs. "Hold still, hon." He fished a pocket knife out of his jeans.

"What, pray tell, do you intend to do with that?" asked Chase, not really alarmed.

"Because I didn't think of getting you a brooch to fasten it with soon enough." He cut a slit in the fabric just under the top fold, going through both layers. Then he bunched the tail of the fabric and threaded it through the slit, in effect cinching the skirt. "Now." William twisted the fabric into a loose rope and pulled it up across Chase's torso, over his shoulder, letting it fall down his back. "There." He fluffed the material. "You let that hang like a curtain, and people go blind trying to catch glimpses of your ass."

Chase wiggled, enjoying the way the material tickled his bare skin. "What if it slips?"

"You keep it up with artful, graceful movements. If it slips," he shrugged. "You try not to trip on it and toss it over your shoulder again." He paused. "Ready for the real costume?"

Chase shivered. "Yes, sir."

William opened the box that contained the set of leather straps. "Give me your hands." Chase held out his hands. William took each in turn, kissed his palm, and buckled the cuffs around them. Then he knelt at Chase's feet and strapped black leather around each slender, bare ankle. Finally he stood up, holding the collar, and said softly. "Kneel."

Chase sank gracefully to his knees, but he held his head up proudly. William stood behind him, then slipped the thick band around his lover's throat and buckled it in place. He curled his fingers around the leather, saying, "All right?"

"Yes." Knowing what William wanted to know, Chase said, "No problem at all getting air--and I'm just... all right with it."

"One more thing. I added it since I showed you the costume. Stay still." There was a muted chink, and Chase shivered again, starting to get hard as he felt William clip something to the back of the collar.

There was a full length mirror on one wall (the breakroom was occasionally used as a dressing room for the staff, or whatever performers were working there), and William led Chase over to it, saying, "Close your eyes." Chase obeyed, and William guided him down to his knees. After a moment he said. "Look, slave."

chase opened his eyes, and his mouth went dry at the sight that greeted him. He no longer looked like the cheerful mid-Western boy he was. He looked... exotic. The black leather made his skin look even more pale and smooth. His softly tousled hair gleamed, as did the silver chain that ran from his collar to wrap around William's gauntletted hand. William looked hard, dangerous, and sexy enough to cause a riot. Together they presented an image that, had it appeared on the box of any X rated video, would have assured best seller status.

"Wow," said Chase softly. "We're hot."

William laughed. "We are. You know that before she leaves, Mrs. Fieldstone is going to want a good look at us. It's going to be a sacrifice to keep from just fucking you senseless before she leaves."

**DoB. No, not Date of Birth--Dykes on Bikes. :) Never been to a Goth bar/club Halloween party--dammit. ***Dennis Hopper, in the iconic Easy Rider, and ***Mohawk in The Road Warrior.

"You ready for this, sweetheart?" asked William.

"I was in Drama Club and Drama Class all through high school," said Chase. "I was Henry Higgins in the Senior class production of My Fair Lady." He made a face. "Thank heavens the play doesn't call for him to kiss Liza Dolittle. That was the part I wanted, but I knew better than to try out. I had a lot of fun entertaining at rehersals with my version of Wouldn't It Be Loverly? In other words, William, I am more than ready for this. I'm not up for being auctioned off--that's about the extent of it."

William kissed him. "No one on this world has enough money to afford you, baby." He stepped back, letting the cool length of the chain leash brush Chase's shoulder. "Remember to keep a proper slave attitude. I'm going to be role playing this with you all night, unless I tell you otherwise."

Chase clasped his hands and looked at the floor. "Yes, Master."

"Good boy."

They were letting the crowd in as William and Chase went out into the main room. They were spotted immediately, and the babble of conversations rose in admiration and interest.

William led Chase over to the bar. One of the bartender, looking like an extra from Dawn of the Dead, came over, giving them a grin and an 'okay' sign. William said, "You should have some drink tickets back there for us--Chase and William?"

"Sure do," said the bartender. "You've got a half dozen each, to use or distribute as you see fit, and I'm personally adding a couple in honor of those costumes. What can I do for you?"

"Red wine two times," said William, "And put something sparkling in it for my slave." William reached over and rubbed Chase's hair. "He likes delicate things, and I'm feeling indulgent tonight." Chase was reaching toward a plate of cold cuts. Not even looking around, William said, "Slaves who take food without permission are punished." Chase's hand dropped quickly. "They are, however, allowed to ask."

Chase laid his head against William's arm. "Master, I'm hungry. May I eat?"

"You may." William picked up a slice of ham that had been curled as tightly as a rosebud. He held it toward Chase. "But only from my hand."

Chase stared at him for a moment, then leaned forward and delicately took the ham with his teeth. He chewed it, and murmured, "Thank you, Master. If you'd consider putting a little mustard on the next bite?"

William shook a finger at him. "Careful."

Chase clasped his hands in supplication. "Please, Master?" This time William dunked the ham lightly in the provided dish of honey-mustard sauce, and Chase ate it with relish, taking two bites while William watched in amusement. He wasn't the only one. Patrons had started to crowd up around the bar, and their performance was being watched, and remarked upon. When he'd finished the ham, instead of stanging back, Chase took hold of William's wrist, then proceeded to lick a mustard smear off his finger.

A Lord of the Rings elf who'd just picked up a pina colada chortled, "Hot damn, starting already. It's going to be a good night."

"Second that," William called after him as he spread his fingers to caress Chase's cheek. "Where's Mona and Duke?"

"They'll be here soon," said Chase. "And while I'm telling you about that I'd appreciate a couple of those sausage balls--I missed lunch."

William fed him the requested snacks. "Don't do that too often, baby. I want you to stay healthy, and that includes eating regular."

"Remind me--are you my father, or my daddy?" William used the leash to pull him closer, and kissed him. "Daddy it is. Duke is bringing Mona, and Mona was doing color jobs right up to the last minute, trying to earn a little spare cash for Christmas."

"How are they dressed?"

"Duke--I haven't a clue. She wouldn't tell me--just smiled when I asked. As for Mona..." He was looking past William, and he smiled, gesturing toward the door. "See for yourself." William turned. His jaw dropped, and he burst out in appreciative laughter.

Mona looked like a negative image of Elvira, AKA Cassandra Peterson. The tight, slinky, plunging neckline dress was white instead of black, and the contrast between her dark skin was rather startling. She was showing a lot of cleavage. Her hair was the proper trailing locks surmounted by a 'how does it stay that high?' ratted pouf, but it was platinum blonde, ala Mae West (or perhaps Dolly Parton would be a better reference?). She was wearing white lipstick, and there was pearly shadow smudged over her eyes. She saw William staring and smiled. Putting one hand on her hip she sashayed over and said in a light voice, "Hello, darlings! I should spank you, because NO ONE is going to be able to have unpleasant dreams after getting a gander at you two." She dropped the fake voice. "How they hanging, Chasey?"

"Actually," said Chase, "They're not hanging at all in this modified diaper. If I cared to indulge in aberrant sex, I wouldn't have to worry about fathering a baby because my body heat is bound to keep my sperm count low with The Boys cuddled up so close."

"Abberant sex?" said William.

"Abberant for ME, darling." Chase was peering around. "Where's Duke?"

Mona grinned. "She'll be here in a minute. She dropped me off, and she's parking the car."

Chase's eyes widened. "Car? As in 'four wheels and doors'?"

"Yeah. She said she wasn't going to make me try to ride the cycle side-saddle, since that was the only way I'd be able to get on without my costume up around my belly-button. She borrowed it from one of the other DoB** members."

"How's she dressed?" asked William.

Mona chuckled. "Ain't tellin'. I'll just say that I didn't recognize her till she told me to put the baseball bat down."

William blinked. "Okay, that's an interesting hint. My guess would be one of those full, over the head rubber masks. Um..." He pointed at someone who was dressed as Michael Landon in I Was a Teenage Werewolf, complete with letter jacket. "That one?"

"No," said Mona, "It would have been a good choice, but she'd have worn leather instead of that varsity nonsense."

"Watch it," said Chase. "I lettered in track. Is she Frankie?"

Mona looked between an authentic green Frankenstein monster and someone done up as Dr. Frankenfurter from the Rocky Horror Picture Show. "Which one?"

The Frankenfurter clone was obviously a white male, but Chase said promptly, "The monster, or course. Frankenfurter is too short to be Duke."

"Nope again."

A plump girl dressed in a 1950s poodle skirt and pony tail pointed, squealing, "It's the King!"

They looked at the man wearing the red, white, and blue star spangled zip fronted jump suit, with matching visored helmet. "Wrong era, sweetie," said Chase. "He was still rockabilly in your time period. Maybe black leather, but no spangled jumpsuits. That was Elvis goes to Hawaii and Vegas."

"But it's the King," she insisted stubbornly.

The man took off the helmet--to reveal a grinning Duke. "Nope, Princess. No King--just a Duke."

She looked disappointed. "If you're not Elvis, then who are you?"

"You poor, benighted child," said Chase. "She's obviously Evel Kneivel."

Duke did the 'gun' hand gesture at Chase. "Got it in one." She smoothed a hand down the front of her jumpsuit as the girl shrugged and walked away. "I wanted something for motorcycles, and there isn't that big of a choice. I'm too tall to do Dennis Hopper***, and I wasn't gonna shave my head in a mohawk to do Road Warrior, so Evel it was. He's a cool motherfucker, anyway. You said something about drink tickets, Blondie?"

"Yoo-hoo!" Chase waved the zombified bartender over again. "Give two of the tickets for Chase to these ladies... Oops! Woman."

"Good think you corrected yourself." Duke clapped a hand on William's shoulder. "Say, Spartacus--mind if I dance with your toy?"

"Are you kidding?" said William. "I'd pay to see that." He unclipped the leash and wound it around Chase's waist, clipping it again. "There. Now you won't lose it."

Duke stepped up to Chase, who moved close to her. "Just don't expect me to lead, Duke."

"Wouldn't have asked if I thought you would. Let's make those dance lessons my Granny insisted I have pay off." They foxtrotted away."

"I think someone just took a picture of that," said Mona, amused. "They ought to conserve their film--they'll probably see things a lot stranger than that before the evening is over."

Chase's snacks were a huge hit, the bowls and platters emptying quickly. People complained a little when the bartenders started filling the bowls with the chips that they'd bought, just in case, but by then most of the crowd was drunk enough that they didn't really care.

Chase and William danced together a lot. William was enjoying it immensely. He liked to dance, but until he'd met Chase it had pretty much been limited to mixed couples dancing. He liked girls well enough for dance partners, but it just added something special to be able to move to music with someone you cared about. During the slow dances he enveloped Chase in a tight hug, and they just swayed and shuffled. When Chase's hands slid down to fondle his ass he murmured warningly about spanking him, and received a squeeze before the hands were removed.

William drank more wine than Chase did. Near the end of the evening he excused himself to go to the men's room. Chase had been receiving a lot of admiring attention (so had William) so at first he didn't think much about getting a little more. A woman dressed in the satin, velvet, and lace knee britches ensemble favored by male dandies in the court circles of the 18th centuries approached and gave Chase a long, appreciative look. There were times when Chase would have snapped at her to take a picture--it would last longer. But he was in a very good mood, and after all--he had dressed up specifically to be looked at. Nothing wrong in looking. Commenting, however, could push the line.

"Damn, you're fine!" said the woman.

Just those few words were slurred, and Chase realized she was very drunk. "Thank you."

"Do you like girls?"

*She's pushing it.* "That's a little personal."

"Bet you don't."

"I like girls fine. Some of my best friends are girls. Why don't you go ask the bartender for a coffee?"

She ignored his suggestion. "I'm Casanova--the world's greatest lover."

"I could debate with you on that. I happen to think that my lover holds that title."

She reached out and hooked a finger under the swatch of fabric that was tossed over his shoulder. "I could prove it to your." She tugged quickly, and it floated down. "Damn! I was hoping that'd make your skirt fall off."

Chase was flushing as he retrieved the dangling tail and tried to situate it again. "Okay, I'm a good sport, but that's enough."

"Don't be a sour puss." The swiftness and accuracy of her next move was surprising, given how drunk she was. Her hand flashed out and she pinched Chase's nipple--hard. He gasped in shocked pain, and she grinned, saying, "How much? I brought money tonight."

"I don't believe you!" He fought down the urge to smack her, rubbing the sore spot. "I'm a slave, not a whore. You don't see any price list."

"Then I'm willing to dicker with you." She snorted with laughed. "Dicker."

"Oh, this is too much." He turned and started away.

"You don't walk away from me!" The woman grabbed the fabric trailing over Chase's shoulder and jerked hard. Chase hadn't been expecting it and he stumbled, falling on his butt. He was so stunned that he didn't react immediately.

He didn't have to, though. He heard Mona's outraged voice yelling, "Bitch! Are you crazy?"

Then he heard William's voice, very cold, saying, "I'll handle this."

William stepped up out of the suddenly quiet crowd and moved up close to the drunken Casanova. He got right in the woman's personal space, till there wasn't more than an inch of air between them. She wasn't small, but he was almost a head-and-a-half taller than her. He glared down into her suddenly doubtful eyes. "From what I remember, Casanova didn't try to molest unwilling partners. And let me tell you, if his approach was as crude and rude as yours, he damn sure wouldn't have earned the title of greatest lover." He leaned down even closer, and she seemed to shrink. "You hurt him. I'm inclined to wipe the floor with you. But since that woulld involve having to make a statement to the police, then arrange bail and spend time in court while my very well paid lawyer made you look like a combination of Lizzie Borden and Lucretia Borgia, I'm willing to be magnanimous. Start by apologizing to him."

She glanced over at Chase and gave him a craven smile. "Just kidding."

"Oh, fuck! You don't call that an apology, do you? That's an exuse, and a fucking lame one at that. Just kidding is what all the bullies in the world say. Try again."

"I was drunk?"

"That's the second most used excuse. You get one more try, then I'm removing you from his vicinity--forcibly."

This time the look she gave Chase was sincere. "I'm really, really, really sorry! I was rude, crude, and socially unacceptable." She glanced up at William, then continued, "I was an unthinking, presumptuous bitch. Please forgive me?" She looked at William again. "Please?"

Chase had stood up and brushed himself off. Now he said placidly, "Oh, all right. Just don't let it happen again. He might not be in such a forgiving mood. Now I think it would be a good idea for you to toddle on home--preferably by cab."

A man wearing full western drag (he was dressed as a saloon girl) took her arm. "I'll see to it." As he led her away he said, "I can't take you anywhere. I swear, if you won't go to couples' counciling..."

Now that the show was over, the crowd started to disperse. Chase drifted over to William and pressed against him, putting his arms around his neck. "Protecting your property?"

William put his hands on Chase's waist, squeezing. "No, just doing what a boyfriend should--putting a little respect and the fear of a boot up the ass into the waste of space that insulted my sweetheart."

November 1st

William usually woke up fairly quickly, but this morning was different. After all, he and Chase had come home around midnight, both pleasantly tired, and energized by the party. Mrs. Fieldstone had admired and applauded the costumes, then snagged flavor each of the half-bowl of candy bars left by the trick-or-treaters, and went home.

Then William had stripped Chase out of his costume and spent some time worshipping his body, very vigorously. He might have felt guilty the abundance of passion bruises he'd left if Chase hadn't enthusiastically returned the favor. Half asleep, eyes still closed, William stretched luxuriously, and smiled. *I think I'll apologize by kissing every one of those hickeys. That'll be a nice way to wake up him up.*

He reached over for Chase, and all his hands encountered were bare sheets. That was odd. Chase usually slept plastered against him, if not actually wrapped around him. Still, he supposed everyone wanted to sprawl out occasionally, and lord knew his bed was big enough for it. He reached farther, planning on grabbing the first portion of anatomy he found and giving Chase a good tickling. Just a short one, so that he'd still be in a good move.

He started to frown as he stretched farther, then his fingers encountered the edge of the mattress, and still no Chase. He finally opened his eyes, peering to the side. No, he wasn't hallucinating. The bed was completely Chaseless. Groaning, William looked over at the clock sitting on his bedside table. 7:30. Chase must have needed to take a pee. But there wasn't any sounds coming from the bathroom. William felt the sheets again. And there was no lingering body warmth.

*What the fuck? He can't have left--I'm his ride.* William sat up, abruptly awake. *Crap! Was I too rough last night? He didn't use his safe word--I listen like a hawk.* William rolled out of bed and grabbed a pair of jeans out of his dresser, pulling them on over his bare skin. He'd give the house a quick search, and if Chase wasn't there he'd call Mona and see if Chase had showed up at home. If he hadn't, William was seriously going to consider calling the police.

It didn't come to that. He found Chase in the kitchen. The boy was sitting at the table with a notebook and a cup of coffee in front of him, looking pensive. Not looking up, he waved vaguely toward the counter. "Coffee's ready. If you want breakfast you'll have to fix it yourself--I'm exhausted."

Chase came over and dropped a kiss on the back of Chase's neck, rubbing his shoulders. "Then what are you doing out of bed at this ungodly hour?"

Chase tipped his head back far enough to kiss William on the cheek. "I'm getting ready for Thanksgiving, of course."

William blinked. "Chase? It's the first day of November."

"I know. I only have four weeks to get ready. I should have started drawing up my plan of battle last month, but you had me distracted, you dreadful man."

"Are you going to need four weeks?" William poured himself a cup of coffee, coming back to sit beside him.

Chase sighed, crossing something out on the page and writing something else. "I'll admit that most of it's going to be taken up with deciding on the menu. There's just so many possibilities. Do I go for my own family favorites? Solicit other people's family traditions? Copy a chi-chi gourmet restaurant menu? Copy a historical menu? Decisions, decisions, decisions."

William sipped his coffee, relaxed now that he was assured that Chase hadn't run off and left him. He pointed at Chase. "Sweetheart, I would have thought that your last unexpected encounter with Mrs. Fieldstone would have cured you of running around here in brief attire."

"This?" Chase looked down at himself. He was wearing a joke T-shirt that William's employees had given him. It had a cat with a Frisbee in its mouth on the front, the words DARE TO DREAM printed under it. It had been big on William, and it was huge on Chase. It floated on him, hanging half-way down his bare thighs. Chase stood up and hoisted the hem up to his waist. Instead of being flashed, William saw that he was wearing a pair of running shorts. "Nyah, dirty old man. And while I'm up, I need more caffiene."

He carried his cup over to the coffee maker and poured a cup, then put several spoons of sugar into it before carrying it to the refrigerator for milk. "I have a request. Can you get some of those neat little flavored coffee creamers? I love those things."

"I'm not surprised. Any particular flavors?"

"No mint--that's for tea. Other than that, surprise me." He sat back down at the table. "The problem is that I have to limit my menu, even if I cook some things a day or two ahead, and I hate that."

"Yeah, you're not really big on self denial," said William, amused. "Why limit yourself, babe? I love it when you cut loose, in any area of life."

"Will, you've seen my kitchen. It isn't exactly as bad as trying to cook on a hot plate, but it isn't all that far from it." He made a face. "We're going to have to try to get the landlord to replace that stove soon. The thermostat is getting iffy."

"Maybe he can do it before Thanksgiving."

Chase rolled his eyes. "Thank you for the hearty laugh. The list for replacement appliances is longer than most lists to legally adopt healthy male white babies."

William grunted. He'd never had that problem, but he knew it existed. He thought a moment, then said, "How married are you to your apartment?"

Chase was looking at the list he was drawing up, and said absently, "I promised Mona faithfully that I'd never move out unless we'd already found someone else who'd help with the rent and expenses."

"What I meant was are you absolutely committed to cooking Thanksgiving dinner at your apartment?"

"Well, I won't be cooking it back home on the farm. Mom hasn't done Thanksgiving since I left home. See, she works in a charity soup kitchen on Thanksgiving, then we do the big family gathering thing on Christmas. It works out well, since I'm darn lucky to just get Thursday off, much less the weekend, and I can't always easily make the trip back-and-forth."

"I'm still not making myself clear. What I'm asking is would you like to cook Thanksgiving dinner here?"

Chase froze, staring at him. "You aren't teasing me, are you?"

"Not about this, sweetie." Chase squealed, and William suddenly found himself with a lapful of warm, wiggling, hugging, kissing boyfriend. He laughed. "Damn, what are you going to do the first time I give you a big gift? What I want to know is why didn't you ask for it yourself?"

Chase sat back, his arms around William's neck. "Thanksgiving is a family holiday. I thought you might have people you wanted to spend it with."

"I do." He kissed Chase. "You. And whatever of your own little family you want to invite."

Chase brightened. "Mona and Duke?"

"Of course. And Bootsie."

"Yes! I'm so glad you said that, and I didn't have to. Morty and Monty?"

"They do Thanksgiving?"

"It's food and a party--they'll come. How many people can I ask?"

"Let me think." He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. "I have my Mama's dining table. That sits eight to start with. If we put in the leaf it's up to an even dozen. If we need more seating than that, there's enough room in the dining room to set up one or two card tables."

"That should be plenty of space," said Chase cheerfully. "As long as you don't intend to invite your entire staff?"

"I'd like to ask my secretary and her husband. I would ask Mrs. Fieldstone, but I think she enjoys doing the Thanksgiving thing herself."

"All right," said Chase. "I can draw up the guest list later. Now I want to start thinking about the menu." He paused. "William? I was just wondering if you'd mind..."

"Yes?" *He's going to finally ask for something. Good.*

"I know it's asking a lot since you're providing the space and the kitchen, but can I rely on you for most of the ingredients, too? I don't want to skimp, but I want to have some cash left over for Christmas presents, too."

"Hell, Chase--I was planning on that." He rubbed Chase's thighs. "You shop, I'll pay. I'll give you my credit card, and..."

Chase sat up abruptly, jumping off William's lap. "Oh, no you won't! William, I'm surprised at you, offering to just hand over your card."

"But Chase--I know you."

Chase was pacing nervously. Now he paused and gave William an opaque look. "You know me better than most people in my life ever have. But William, you've still only known me for a few months. Is it possible to really know someone in that short a time?"

William felt a little hurt. "Don't you feel like you know me?"

"Yes, I do... But I've been wrong before."

There was such pain in those words that it drew William's attention away from his own disappointment at what he thought was Chase's lack of trust. "Someone hurt you." It wasn't a question. Chase didn't answer, just looking at him. "Will you tell me about it?"

Chase paused, then said softly, "I think so, but not now." He went back to William and laid his palm gently against his lover's cheek. "Please understand. It isn't you, and it isn't really me. It's some person you've never met, that I will hopefully never see again." Chase bit his lip. "I've tried to keep from letting him affect my life, but sometimes... Sometimes the hurt comes slinking up from the past and surprises you." He drew a breath, then smiled at William. "You'll come grocery shopping with me, all right?"

"Sounds good."

"All right, no need to start getting wound up for it." He sat back down and picked up his pencil. "That's at least a couple of weeks away. I'm just getting started on the menu. What do you think for starters--something with oysters, or maybe a nice, warm soup--like butternut squash?"

Notes: I'm not sure if I gave a weekday for Halloween in the previous parts of the story, but I'm having it on a Wednesday, so that Thanksgiving will come as quickly as possible (and thus give Chase the most time to obsess :D) Thanksgiving in America is always the fourth Thursday in November. Since Halloween fell on Tuesday this year, it will be on the 23rd. hassenpfeffer is a highly seasoned stew made with rabbit. (Learned this from watching Bugs Bunny cartoons).

November 7th

"Chase, baby, I know that this is the time of year when you get distracted," said Mona, "And I know that you're a compulsive list maker, and that you now have a legitimate reason, but PLEASE!" She held up a sheet of paper and shook it. "Could't you have waited till you could find a piece of scratch paper instead of scribbling in the margins of my supply order form? Now I'm gonna have to get a fresh one, or God knows what the wholesaler will send me."

Chase gave her a sheepish look. "I'm sorry, Mona, but I was on the phone with Mom and she was giving me the recipe for Angels on Horseback. She was about to run out the door, and I didn't have time to go hunting for clean paper--I had to get it down right then."

"What on which?" said Mona. "Chase, I know that you like to try out new things, but you aren't planning on serving us horsemeat for Thanksgiving, are you?"

"Mona, hippophagy at a festive meal would be odd, even by our standards."

"Hip--? Chase, I know that nobody in America eats hippopotomus."

He rolled his eyes. "Not hippopotomus. Hippophagy is the ingestion of horseflesh." When Mona gave him a skeptical look he said, "Sweety, hippopotomus translates out to 'water horse'. The official name for a sea horse is hippocampus, and the name of the way back when, first ever, cat sized horses is the eohippus."

"Damn, boy. All I did was ask if you were going to filet Secretariat for dinner--I didn't ask for a lecture. How do you know all this?"

"Jeopardy and Trivial Pursuit. Anyway, Angels on Horseback are oysters, wrapped in backon, breaded, and deep fried."

"Mm-mm. I'm glad I'm invited to this shindig."

"Don't get your mouth set for them yet. I'm not entirely sure that's the direction I'm going to take. I might decide to do, oh, Oysters Rockefeller instead. Or maybe just oysters on the half shell."

"Raw oysters? Bleh!"

"And you call yourself a lesbian."

"Oysters can't kiss back or give you a footrub, Cupcake. Haven't you settled on anything for your menu yet?"

He sighed. "I've settled on the entrees, the main parts of the meal, but the side dishes are giving me fits."

"We're having turkey, right?"

"Oh, you sound so suspicious. Yes, we're having turkey--just probably not exactly as you're used to it, and not only turkey."

"I'm afraid to ask. You gonna serve up turkey tamales and hassenpfefer?"

"I never willingly cook rabbit. Bless them, they look like skinned kitties."

"Yeah, I've seen 'em. I used to have an uncle who lived in the country, and he hunted. Every now and then he'd send us a mess of rabbits, squirrels, or doves. I got to like them. In fact, since you were raised on a farm, I'm kind of surprised that you don't see them just as food."

"I guess I could if I forced myself, but I don't have to force myself. When I get my own restaurant, we will NOT have rabbit on the menu. Anyway, no tamales or hassenpfeffer. I'm going to disjoint the turkey, boil most of the parts the night before, then put them in to roast that morning, saving the breast to roast whole. That way the serving is a lot neater, and it's easier for everyone to get what they want. I know Duke is going to want a drumstick, but a lot of people like breast." He made weighing motions in front of his chest. "I'm going to find one with tits like a cross between Dolly Parton and Pamela Anderson before she got the reduction."

"You're so crude."

He made a kissing motion at her. "And you love me for it."

"True. You said you were going to have something else?"

"Ah, there I will shine! I'm going to do something that I'm sure most of our guests haven't seen. Don't start making faces--the food itself isn't odd, it's just that the form is going to be rare. I'm going to make a crown pork roast."

Mona's eyes widened. "Say. I've seen those in some of your cook books. You're right, I've never seen it actually served."

"It used to be good 'company's coming' fare, but what with the healthy, light eating trend, it's fallen out of fashion. They don't just keep them on hand, you have to special order them. It's simple, really. It's just a rack that would be pork chops if it was sliced up. You tie it in a circle and roast it." He smiled. "I'm going to have to see if I can find those frilly little paper panties to put on the bones."

"Hell, boy. That roast will be dressed better than me."

"I'm going to have at least two different kinds of stuffing--I haven't settled on what kind yet. Not oyster, since I'm having those to start the meal. I haven't done a chestnut one yet. How do you feel about chestnuts?"

"Baby, the closest I've ever come to chestnuts was that Christmas song by Nat King Cole."

"Well, now I'm not sure to pass it up so that the most people will have at least one thing they're familiar with, or make it so that I can be sure everyone has at least one novelty. I'm going to have at least one fruited dressing, though. It'll go well with the pork."

"The main course and the side dishes are all well and good," said Mona, "but you haven't mentioned the most important course yet. What are you doing for desert?"

"Everyone I know is a little piggy when it comes to sweets," said Chase, and there was a note of complacency in his voice. "I know that pumpkin is traditional for Thanksgiving, but pie has been done to death, so I was thinking about soup. You know, you can do pumpkin soup either savory or sweet. If I go savory it can come right after the oysters, and if I do sweet it can be part of the deserts. Decisions, decisions, decisions. I'm going to do at least one cake and one pie, but I haven't decided on which yet. Mrs. Fieldstone did a dark chocolate-peppermint cake that was to die for, but maybe something a tiny bit lighter. Perhaps coconut? I could have a fruit filling between layers. There's so many kinds possible for that--pineapple, raspberry, lemon curd... As for the pie, I'm leaning heavily toward pecan, but the question is should I use dark or light corn syrup? You get very different effects..." Mona had gotten up from the dining table and was heading for the kitchen. "I could get you a drink."

"I'll bring you one if you want it, but I'm mostly going in here for a snack."

"A snack? But you ate not thirty minutes ago."

"Oh, thanks for the time, since I'm not wearing my watch. It's your fault, you little booger, and you know it. If you're going to start reciting foods at me, I'm going to have to eat something."

"Stay away from those crackers! There's a new type of pie I want to try."

"A pie made with saltines?" She considered it. "Fuck. If anyone can make it edible, you can."

November 11

"Chase, I have GOT to have that final menu if you want me to be able to make up individual ones, AND do the place cards," said Morticia.

Chase and William were visiting at Morty and Monty's loft apartment. Pyewacket had had her babies a couple of weeks before, and their eyes had just opened. Chase was sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the cat basket, cuddling a morsel of cream colored fluff on each shoulder. "I know, I know. It's just been hellish trying to make up my mind."

William was sitting on the edge of the bed with a kitten carefully cupped in the palm of one big hand, stroking it's head with his fingertips. Pyewacket didn't know him as well as she knew Chase, so she was sitting on the bed beside him, watching him carefully. William said, "It's been rough on all of us. I can't tell you the number of different menus I've found scattered all over the house. I made the mistake of throwing one away."

"You should have known better!" said Chase severely.

"Babe, it was wadded up into a ball."

"I changed my mind."

"How was I supposed to know that?"

"Look, Desi and Lucy," sighed Morticia. "The menu?"

Chase kissed each kitten on the nose, then carefully deposited them in the basket. The mama cat jumped down to give them a thorough inspection, then gave them an even more thorough tongue-bath. "I've finally settled. And if I want to change my mind... Well, either tough on me, or I apologize and explain to each guest as they arrive."

William was amused. "I hardly think they're going to get outraged if they get succotash instead of plain limas, Chase."

Chase had been reaching for his jacket, and now he froze, eyes thoughtful. "Succotash..."

"NO!" William and Morticia managed perfect two part harmony.

Chase shook his head. "You're right. Maybe I'll do it for Christmas." He pulled a carefully folded sheet of paper out of the jacket pocket, and handed it almost reverently to Morticia. "The final results."

"With all the worrying and sweating you put into this," said Morticia, unfolding the paper, "I'd expect something along the lines of the bill of fare for an Imperial Chinese banquet."

"I talked him out of the sushi," said William.

"I let you, you know very well that's Japanese, and hush," said Chase shortly.

William just smiled. A lot of people outside the D/s, B/D lifestyle might think that a Dom would want nothing but meek servitude from a submissive. Well, there were those extremes, but William wasn't one of them. Chase was exactly what he wanted--sweet, funny, intelligent, and sassy--ready to stand up for himself or what he thought was right.

Morticia started reading the menu. "Angels and devils on horseback. Devils on... Chase, prunes?"

"I'm playing fast and loose with the names of the foods," said Chase. "I'm using both shrimp and oysters, calling the shrimp the angels and the oysters the devils."

She smiled. "I'm surprised at you."

"What--you're going to report me to Martha Stewart?"

Morticia shooker her head, looking back at the menu. "Pumpkin soup..."

"You don't think that's odd?" asked William.

"I grew up in New England--heck no," said Morticia. "Roast turkey, crown roast of pork, fruited stuffing and sausage-cornbread stuffing, broiled peaches, cranberry relish, midwest mashed potatos... What are midwest mashed potatos?"

"Mashed potatos," said Chase, "with garlic, sour cream, and cream cheese."

"Butter?"

"Are you kidding? Of course butter. Great, honking, artery clogging lumps of it."

"Good boy. Maple-bourbon sweet potatos, sauteed squash, Not Your Mama's green bean casserole, Waldorf salad, cornbread muffins, yeast rolls, coconut cake, whatever." She looked up, frowning. "Whatever?"

"You said you wanted to bring a dessert, so whatever you want to bring."

"Golden pecan tassies," she said promptly.

"I'm familiar with pecans," said William, "but what's a tassie?"

"Oo!" said Chase. "I'm so glad you're going to make those. A tassie is a sort of mini pecan pie, a tartlette, if you will. The crust is sweetened, and made with cream cheese. It's so rich and good, and you can just pop one in your mouth."

"If you're a glutton," said Morticia. "Unless you have someone around who knows the Heimlicht maneuver you should use at least two bites. I want to know what a Not Your Mama's Green Bean casserole is."

"It's a green bean casserole," said Chase simply.

"Thank you, Mister Obvious."

"That's all you're getting. Be surprised, like everyone else. I got the recipe from the Food Network, from two of my personal heros--The Hearty Boys." He glanced at William before he could say anything, "Not Hardy--Hearty. They won the last Be the Next Food Network Star contest."

"But that sounds like the winner should have been singular, not plural," said William.

"They auditioned together, and they were allowed to compete together for a good reason--they've been operating a successful catering company together for ten years," Chase held up a finger, and his expression was almost beatific, "Which is just about as long as they've been partners in the other significant way."

William perked up. "You mean--together?"

"Yes. They're an old married couple. The first openly gay national television celebrity couple." He threw his arms open wide. "I love them! They give me hope--personally, and for gays as a group. I HAVE to use some of their recipies. Besides," he said practically, "it sounds FANTASTIC. And Morty, you left out one of the desserts." "Which one?" she asked, looking at the page.

It's right there above 'whatever'." "Chase, all it says here is 'dirt'."

"And that's exactly what it is." Morticia dropped the page, rolling her eyes up. "It's delicious, but I'm not telling you what it is. Mona knows, and I have to practically beat her away from the bowl whenever I fix it, so that should tell you something."

Pyewacket had jumped back up on the bed. Now she stood with her front paws on William's leg, reaching a paw up toward the kitten, making chirping noises. "All right, Mama," said William. He set the baby on the bed and watched as Pyewacket sniffed the kitten, then gently took it by the scruff of the neck and hopped down to put it in the basket with the rest of the litter. "Morty," said William. "I think there's something wrong with that kitten."

Morticia made a sound of concern. "That's the one with the stiff leg. We've taken them to the vet, but he says it's too early to be able to tell what's wrong. It doesn't seem to hurt the kitten, so we're waiting a little to see what happens."

"You don't have any idea at all what's wrong?"

"It could be any number of things. Sometimes something like that just corrects itself. Sometimes it's the first sign of a bigger problem. We're thinking it probably isn't a neurological condition, since we've never had a problem with any of the previous kittens. I'm just afraid that baby may end up crippled."

"You wouldn't...?" William's voice trailed off.

"Euthanize it? No. Not unless it's clear that it's degenerative, and life would be a pain and a burden. Limping isn't such a big problem." She smiled. "One of the fiestiest dogs I've ever know is a little weenie dog who's a paraplegic. His owner fitted him up with wheels for his hind end, and he just zips all over the place, plays fetch, chases butterflies. No, a limp definitely isn't impossible to overcome."

"I'm glad to hear that." Pyewacket had lain down on her side, and the kittens had bellied up to the milk bar. There was six of them lined up, pressed in close, faces buried against their mother's softly furred belly. Their tiny paws worked rhytmically, kneading in an effort to encourage milk flow. The kitten William had been holding was on the outside. His right hind leg was stretched out limply, and he wasn't using it to push, like his brothers and sisters. William reached down and ran his finger down the kitten's back, tracing its spine. "Is it a boy, or a girl?"

"She's a little girl," said Morticia. "And that's a shame. She's not show quality, so no one's going to want to pay show prices for her. Don't give me that look, Will. You know that they have standards for purebred cats. While she'll never be a champion, she'd make a gread companion. The trouble is, if you're trying to give away a flawed kitten, it's a lot easier if it's a tom. It's cheaper to have a tom fixed."

"But why should she be fixed? I mean right away. Couldn't she have one or two litters? Experience motherhood?" said William.

"Will, that's one reason why the animal population is out of hand. I don't breed Pye unless I'm sure of finding homes for all the babies. As long as it isn't something that can be passed down I wouldn't require it as a condition of purchase. But most cat people who are looking for a pedigreed cat don't want to take any risks. Some breeders will keep a slightly deformed kitten as a breeder."

"You mean just to have babies to sell?" William sounded mildly horrified.

"Will, cat breeding is just as often a business as it is a hobby. At a reputable cattery the life of a breeder isn't all that bad. You're thinking about the puppy and kitten mills that have made the news, where they keep the animals caged and have them churn out litter after litter."

"But still..." He shook his head. "Never mind. Chase, did you give her the guest list?"

"Right here." Chase handed over another sheet of paper. He started ticking off on his fingers. "Me, William, you, Monty, Mona, Duke, Bootsie, Denise and Stanley Umbridge, and Ernestine. Ten."

"Great. Wait till you see what I'm going to do with these. I have the prettiest vine and leaf design," said Morticia.

"Let's go," said William. "We're going to have to book if we want to pick up something before that William Castle film festival starts on TCM."

They said good-bye and stepped out into the hall. Chase snapped his fingers and said, "I forgot to tell Morty something. You go ahead and get the 'bird started. I'll be right there." William nodded and went into the elevator. Chase waited till it went down, then poked his head back into the apartment. "Morty?"

She looked up from the list she was studying. "Yeah?"

"I don't think you're going to have to worry much about finding a home for that kitten." Then he winked at her.