Denise went into William's office at about two o'clock. "William, personel want's to know about that increase in vacation time for senior employees."

William, who was putting papers in his briefcase, looked up. "Tell them to go ahead. Besides the two weeks, they can have two more vacation days, available at any time but the busy seasons."

Denise watched him curiously as he shut the case. "That's instead of the three unpaid personal days?"

"Oh, no--in addition. There'd be no point in calling them vacation days otherwise--and in case they ask, there's to be no change in the number of paid personal and sick days. It costs us a little more, but it's worth the employee loyalty it earns us." He picked up the case.

"Are you leaving all ready?" He held up the case silently. "Yes, silly question. You're usually here to at least four, more usually five. Would it be too personal to ask what the occasion is?"

"I have a date."

Denise smiled automatically. "Oh, that's nice! Are you having an afternoon picnic?"

"No, I'm having dinner with him and his roommate."

She didn't blink at the male pronoun. "Surely they don't eat this early?"

"No, he said to be there at six, but I have to..." He trailed off, shrugging and smiling. "I'm too antsy to be of any use here. I might as well go get ready. I need to make my best impression, or I don't think Mona will let him go out with me."

Denise blinked. "How old is he?"

"He's twenty-two, he just respects the lady's opinion."

"He lives with a woman?"

"How do I put this? She has as little 'interest' in him as he has in her." He started toward the door. "Denise? Which do you think is more appropriate to bring as a gift--white or red wine?"

"I think if he likes you well enough it won't matter."

"Maybe, but I like him well enough that it matters to me. I'll see you tomorrow."

"What was I thinking? What the hell was I thinking? Why did I attempt cassoulet? Why didn't I do something simple, like beef stroganoff? Almost everyone likes beef stroganoff?"

"Chase, will you quit whining?" Mona sighed.

"I should have known better," said Chase. "I mean, I knew before I started that I couldn't get preserved goose or duck, and I knew I'd have to settle for plain garlic sausage instead of Saucisson d' ail..."

"Oh, for heavens-- Can't you just say garlic sausage, Chase?"

"I could, but what's the fun in that?"

"Well, I'm just as glad you couldn't get the goose. I've never had any, and I'm not itching to try it. And I'll tell you, I'm also just as glad that they were out of pig trotters. I had to eat those damn things when I was growing up and I had enough, thank you."

"Plebian. No, wait--that's not the right term. Cassoulet is at heart a peasant dish, so it is plebian. Well, then--food snob."

Mona snorted. "Look who's talking."

"There's no use crying about it now, I guess." Chase still didn't sound happy. "At least that mish-mosh seems to be cooking properly. I think I'm going to get a nice crust on top. I guess I need to go get ready. He'll be here any minute now."

"You said you told him six o'clock. Baby, it's only four."

"I know. I'll barely have time. Do me a favor. Check that dough, and if it's risen enough, punch it down, and if you want to use the potty any time soon, you'd better do it before I get in there."

He hurried toward his bedroom, and Mona shook her head fondly. *Oh, boy-child, I hope he's worth all this. If he disappoints you, I'm gonna have to bitch slap him.*

William was fresh and steaming from the shower, hair damp, naked except for the towel wrapped low around his hips. *And why the fuck is that? Why do I keep wrapping up when I get out of the shower? It isn't as if I'm living with anyone, dammit.* Still, old habits were hard to break. He'd gone to boarding school when he was growing up. When he went to college he'd turned down his father's offer of his own apartment to share one with two other students (a male and a female). He'd learned that if he didn't want demerits in the first place, and outrage or crude comments in the second, he'd better not go naked anywhere but in the privacy of his own room, or in the bathroom--with the door locked.

He had clicked on the vent fan when he got in the shower, so the mirror was free of condensation. He studied himself critically, turning his head this way and that, trying to decide if he should shave again. He shaved every weekday morning, of course. Otherwise he'd end up with what his father had called 'the Miami Vice look.' William wasn't as formal in the office as his father had been, but stubble was still not accepted at his level of business--not unless you were in one of those cutting-edge industries, like music, acting, or computer softwear designing. He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. It was only a little after four, but there was already a very faint rasp. *I've been clean shaven so far around Chase. I wonder how he'd like me with stubble? I think it might turn him on. He seems to like a rough edge. But his skin is so delicate. I might give him whisker burn if I do what I really want to.* That involved prolonged rubbing of his face on various tender portions of Chase's anatomy. He didn't think Chase would be embarrassed about having the marks seen. Not that it mattered--most of the places William wanted to nuzzle wouldn't be readily visible to a casual observer. They'd be under at least two layers of clothing.

He finally decided to forego the shave. *But that reminds me.* He ran his hand across his chest, frowning, then under his arm pit. He'd been depilitating or waxing since college--everything above the waist. This stubble was a little more pronounced than that on his jaw. He quickly spread a depilitory (one that had been formulated by a dermatologist friend) over his chest. While it was working he shaved his pits, being sure to moisturize, deoderize, and dust with odorless talc. He knew that some Doms scorned such meticulous hygiene, thinking it less than manly. William personally thought they were idiots--usually smelly idiots.

When the time was over he used a wet towel to clean away the ointment, then tested the shiny surface. "Smooth as a baby's butt," he murmured. He noticed that his nipples had firmed a little. That often happened when he did this routine. He wondered if women found having freshly shaved legs as erotic as he found this. He quickly pinched both nipples, feeling them firm into points. Then he opened a drawer in the bathroom vanity and took out a small enameled jewelry box. Opening it, he revealed a dozen or so sets of rings and studs. There was everything from gold to brutal looking black iron, and several that were set with small gems. His hand hovered for a moment, and he selected a pair of small silver hoops.

Glancing between his chest and the mirror, he flipped the catch on one ring, pinched his nipple, and slid the hoop through the tiny, almost invisible piercing. He made sure it was dangling properly, then repeated the process on the other side. He examined himself again, turning his torso slightly to see how the light glinted. "Maybe the gold..." He shook his head. *I still haven't chosen my outfit. I'll be late if I keep second guessing myself on jewelry.*

He squeezed a little styling gel into his hands, then worked them vigorously in his still damp hair, finger combing it into the messy, spikey style that he'd admired so much on the lab tech in CSI--the character who had begun to wear a slightly more sedate hairdo once he started working in the field. William still bemoaned the loss. Finally satisfied with his physical appearance, he went into the master bedroom to choose his ensemble.

*Chase likes clothes. I need to look good for him.* William didn't go to the dresser--the jeans and T-shirts there were a little too casual for this date. He wanted to make a good impression. Neither did he glance at the suits that hung neatly in their shrouds of plastic film. After some debate he pulled out a pair of dark dress pants, then several shirts. He held them up in front of himself and studied the effect in the full length mirror. William had what his mother had called 'cat eyes'. Not that they were the least slanted--no, they were that peculiar shade of hazel that seemed to change with William's wardrobe. Yellow brought out gold glints, green and blue lent their own tint, and for some reason red in all it's shades made them look darker--almost brown. *The only one I can't manage is gray,* he thought. He finally settled on a simple maroon shirt, which also made his hair look darker, and his skin paler.

He went to his dresser and pulled out his underwear drawer, stared into it for a moment, then smiled, and shut it without removing anything. Now that the important decisions had been made, he dressed quickly. The belt this time was plain leather--no studs or etching. The cuffs, though, were the same as he'd worn each time he'd met Chase. They were his favorites, and William always wore cuffs unless he was doing something that involved getting wet, or getting a tan. He was just vain enough to not want white bands around his wrists every summer.

Satisfied with his appearance, William checked the watch that encircled his arm just above the cuff on his left hand. "Crap. Where the hell is that...?" The doorbell rang, and he hurried toward it. There was a plump, red-headed woman heading toward the door, and he called, "I'll get it, Mrs. Fieldstone!"

She frowned at him. "Well, you can, but I'd like to know what you're paying me for."

"I'm paying you to be my housekeeper, not my butler. And speaking of work, you're off now."

"I just thought I'd give that silver a little polish first, and..."

"And you're not going to wait around to see how my date goes." He was opening the door. "I don't know when I'll get back, and your husband would want to brain me if he missed supper because you were curious about my love life." There was no heat in William's words. Mrs. Fieldstone had been keeping house for him for the last five years, and they were friends, as well as employer and employee.

There was a young man standing on the front steps, holding a bunch of flowers wrapped in green tissue paper, and consulting a clipboard. "I have a delivery here from the Fleurette Florists for a Mister..."

"That's me," said William.

"Yessir. If I can just get you to sign for delivery?"

"Sure." He took the flowers, then handed them to Mrs. Fieldstone, saying, "You can do one last thing for me before you go. Pop those in a vase so they don't get crushed while I'm finishing up." She carried the flowers back into the kitchen, and William signed the clipboard, then took out his wallet, extracted a bill, and handed it to the boy. "This is for you. I appreciate the timely delivery."

The boy glanced at the bill, then looked again, his face splitting in a grin. "Yessir! Please remember us any time you need flowers. I'll see to it that you get special delivery every time."

"I may take you up on that in the future." He shut the door just as Mrs. Fieldstone was bringing the flowers, in a cut glass vase, to him. "Oo. Don't we have something other than Waterford?"

"There's the Lalique."

"No. Let me think... Ah. Come on." He led her back into the kitchen, rummaged in a cabinet, and came up with a lidded plastic jug.

"That will look pretty funny filled with flowers," she commented.

"It would, but I'm not using that." He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a plain glass decanter of red wine, then poured it from the decanter into the jug.

Mrs. Fieldstone wasn't quite horrified. "Not the rose!"

"I need this, and if you're worried about it being contaminated by being in contact with plastic, take it home and serve it to your hubby." He was rinsing out the decanter.

"But you spent..."

"It's not like I can't afford to let a half-bottle go, Fieldy. Hand over the posey." He had run a little water into the decanter, and now he unwrapped the flowers and slipped the stems in. "Perfect. Tight enough to hold them up, but not so snug as to crush anything." He carefully re-wrapped the flowers. "Fieldy, would you mind taking the BMW and leaving me the SUV tonight? I should be able to transport this without having it tossed to the floorboards."

"Would I mind? What a silly question." William had gotten the SUV for Mrs. Fieldstone's use--he seldom drove it. "But if you want to impress your new friend, shouldn't you drive the Beamer?"

"I don't think that's the kind of thing that'll impress him." She hummed doubtfully and started for the door, paused, then picked up the jug of wine before leaving. William managed to keep from laughing till he heard the front door shut. He was almost ready. He went into the pantry, and flipped on the light. Walking to the back, he stood before the wine rack and began to consider the ranks of bottles. *Red? White? Red? Rose...?*

Mona had not only punched down the dough, as Chase had asked--she'd formed the dough into Parkerhouse rolls, giving them the neat, divided shape that Chase called 'edible buns--not the fun kind'. They were resting on a baking sheet, covered by a thin, damp cheesecloth. Before Chase had moved in, Mona had heard of cheesecloth, but never actually seen any. Chase had insisted on buying some, saying, "Honey, I need it. I'm afraid that our dishtowels are so ratty that if I use them when I need to cover something we'll end up spitting terrycloth bits."

Chase had come out of his bedroom three times already, asking for opinions on his outfit. Seeing that he was nervous (despite his protestations that this was just a casual get-together), Mona had forced herself to refrain from pacing, or asking Chase any more questions about what was looking like his new obsession. Instead she pretended to read a magazing, thinking, *He was raised right, and he's a lot more sensible than a number of folks who aren't nearly as flightly as he is. I should trust his judgement.* Her jaw tightend. *Should and will are two different things. Chase brings out the mama cat in me. I'm just glad he doesn't seem to mind.*

Approving Chase's boyfriends was a responsibility that Mona took seriously. Chase had only been living with her for a year, but she felt like she'd watched him grow up. He'd moved to the city just after he turned twenty-one, 'And I only waited that long because of Mom making noises about her baby being eaten by the big, bad wolves in the big city. I didn't have the heart to tell her that's what I was hoping would happen.' His first day in the city he'd come bouncing into the salon where Mona was working, and asked if she could give him hair like Tom Cruise in Interview With the Vampire. She'd told him frankly that he'd need extensions for that, but if he didn't want to go that far, she could make him look like one of the Hansons. They'd hit it off immediately.

There was a knock at the door, and Mona heard a squeak from Chase's room. "Get that! My hair isn't right."

Mona got up, calling, "That hair is gonna fall out if you keep messing with it and don't give it a rest, and I'm telling you that rinse you wanted would not have made it lavender."

Still in his room, Chase called, "My hair is pink, and I know for a fact that the ladies at church used to get blue hair with that, and blue and pink make..."

"They started out with gray, Chase." She opened the door. "Oh, my."

Mona was a dedicated lesbian, but she could appreciate male beauty when she saw it. Not just Chase's androgeny, either--sheer masculine gorgeousness, like this man standing before her. He was over six feet tall, and built like a brick house. He didn't have those bulges that so many of those poor, deluded gay bodybuilding boys got, but what he had looked hard and sleek. He had dark hair, but she wasn't quite sure about his eyes. For a moment she was sure they were brown, but then he held the green paper wrapped bundle up a little higher, and she thought they might be green.

"Hi," he said. His voice was deep, but mellow. The man wasn't forcing any bass into it--he didn't need to. "You must be Mona."

"And you must be William."

"I'm here to get your stamp of approval." Mona regarded him in surprise. That summed up the situation all right, but the fact that he acknowledged it and didn't seem amused, irritated, or threatened was unexpected. He was smiling at her, and it was genuine, not the least bit smarmy. "According to Chase it'll be either stamp of approval, or stamped on."

She snickered. "Did he say that?"

"Not exactly, but it sounds like something he'd say, doesn't it?"

"Indeed it does. Well, come on in, Mister William, and we'll see where you fit in the Chase equation." Mona stepped aside and gestured for William to enter. "Enter freely, and of your own will."

William did. "You're not going to drink my blood, are you? Blood play isn't one of my kinks."

"I'm glad to hear it." Mona shut the door after him. "Too many health risks these days." William was looking around expectantly. "He'll be out in a minute. He can't just walk out--he needs to make an entrance." She lowered her voice. "I'm glad you got here. That boy has been dancing around like a Mexican jumping bean in a hot skillet, and he's too young to court high blood pressure like that."

There was the sound of someone clearing their throat, and both Mona and William looked toward the bedroom door. Chase stepped into it and paused, hands out to each side, resting lightly on the doorframe, weight on his right foot, left leg slightly forward and bent at the knee, toes pointed elegantly. Any man who'd ever been through WWII and had a pinup would have recognized the pose. Chase gave William a smile, eyes half closed, and purred, "Fancy meeting you here." The languid air was ruined when he almost scampered over to him, eyes flicking between the objects that William was carrying. "What did you bring me?"

William said, "I brought this for Mona." He offered her the bottle. "Chablis."

Chase looked disappointed, but he said, "That will go excellently with dinner. We're having cassoulet--bean stew."

"I know what it is, and I'm impressed. That's a lot of work."

Mona took the wine. "I'm going to go put this in the fridge, take out the casserole, and slip in the rolls. Can you two keep each other entertained?"

"Notice the finely tuned sense of irony," said Chase as she went into the tiny kitchen. His eyes fixed on the green wrapped bundle in William's hand.

"Yes, this is for you." He offered it. Instead of taking the vase, Chase unwrapped the tissue paper, then gasped in admiration. It was a fat bouquet of rosebuds, shading from burgundy through scarlet, pink, ivory, and yellow. "I wanted to get you some flowers to match your hair, but I wasn't entirely sure what color to get. I mean, the pink would fit what I saw yesterday, but the ivory would have been for the parade day, and I had no idea whether or not you'd felt creative again."

Mona called from the kitchen, "You're lucky I talked him out of it, or you would've had to bring him lilacs."

"Kid, next time you want an exotic hair color, buy a Halloween wig instead of a box of dye," said William. "Get Mona to style it for you, and you can see how you'd look in that shade before you decide if you want to put your hair through it." He reached out and touched Chase's hair, fingering a soft strand. "It's got beautiful texture. You don't want to ruin that, and end up with a head full of straw."

"Hm, you know, that's a thought," said Chase. "I could have everything--neon green, neon yellow, neon purple..."

"To match your shiny personality."

"They'd make me easier to find in a dimmly lit club. Give me those."

Chase carried the vase to a cheap, but well kept, wood table, which was surrounded by four folding wooden chairs. It was set with lightweight flatware and heavy, plain plates--the type of table ware that was usually found in large chain department stores. Chase positioned the vase in the middle, regarded it critically, then looked questioningly at William. Knowing what was expected, William said, "To your left about," he held up his thumb and forefinger a half inch apart, "that much."

Chase made the adjustment, then nodded in satisfaction. "Perfect. I love centerpieces, but when you can't have fresh flowers, what's the point? Silk is hard to keep dusted, and I'd sooner wear polyester than keep plastic flowers." He walked to the door of the tiny kitchen. "Mona, come out and talk to William while I finish up in there."

"But Chase, he's your guest, and I thought..."

"Fiddlesticks. You know very well that he's here to see you as much as me. Now, get your admittedly beautiful, but broad, ass out of my kitchen, woman!"

Mona came out, saying, "Whose name is on the lease?"

"Yours, but it's still my kitchen. If you must protest I'll wrestle you for it, but later." He went into the kitchen, calling back to William, "Won't be long. I just have to mix the salad dressing and let the rolls get good and crusty."

"That means we go sit in the living area," said Mona. The front room was a combination dining/family area, so all they had to do was walk a couple of steps, literally. The small room was cramped with furniture. Between the love seat, two tatty overstuffed chairs, the coffee table, and the old television, one had to be careful about moving around if you didn't want bruised shins.

William took one of the chairs, and Mona sat on the closest end of the love seat. "He's making noises about how he isn't happy with that casserole, but don't you believe him. I haven't yet eaten anything he made that was any less than wonderful."

"That's good," said William. "If it wasn't for the kindness of friends, I'd live almost exclusively off delivery, take out, canned, or nuked food. I just never learned to cook. My family didn't believe it was a necessary skill for a boy, and thankfully my roommates have always been a little more skillful in the kitchen than I am, but I ate a lot of soup and Ramen noodles when I moved out of the house."

"I was expecting Chase to be like that," said Mona. "Imagine how happy I was when, his first night here, he dug through my pantry and whipped up a one pan meal that would have taken me half a day to organize. He told me that he was fifteen before he could convince his mama that he wanted to learn how to cook more than chili and barbecue. Once she was sure he meant it, she opened up the family recipe files and let him have at it, just stepping in now and then when it looked like he might blow up the kitchen."

"She let an adolescent male experiment in her kitchen? Brave woman."

They chatted for another ten or fifteen minutes. Mona managed to cover a lot of ground in a short amount of time. She solicited his opinions on politics, gay activism, and how to deal properly with harassment. William's reaction to that had been quiet, but firm. "It would depend on who was being harassed. I'm willing to turn the other cheek quite a bit for the sake of the public peace. If someone tries to hurt my friends in any way, I'm not so nice."

Mona sat back, nodding. *If someone tried to mess with Chase while he was around, William might just hand them their own ass, but he isn't going to be up on assault charges every time someone calls him a faggot.* "How do you feel about committment?"

"I'm for it," he said promptly. "But only if it's real committment. Hell, I think most straight marriages are only paper committment these days. People get married with the philosphy of 'eh. If it doesn't work out, we can get divorced'. Going in with that mind set, it's no surprise that so many don't last. But I also don't believe in living with someone for eight or ten years and never taking the step--if it's possible." Mona nodded. Whether or not that final step was possible for same gender couples was in a state of fluctuation right now, and there was no telling how things would progress in the next few years. William lowered his voice. "Mona? I'm about to channel a seventh grade girl here."

Mona found herself grinning. "Funny, you don't look a thing like Chase. Go ahead."

William looked embarrassed, but murmured, "Do you think Chase likes me?" Mona stared at him, and William actually blushed. "Oh, yeah--I know that. But I mean do you think he likes me--as a person? Do you think I'm the sort he could be serious about?"

Mona studied him. "What you gonna do if I say no--tuck your tail and run?"

"No. But hopefully I won't get my heart broken in too many pieces."

"First off, I don't think Chase would fall in love with a 'sort'. Yes, there's a certain type that attracts him--and you're a poster boy for that--but he isn't all about looks and attitude. That boy works so hard at appearing shallow, but he's anything but."

"That's what I thought."

"Well, the fact that you see that is in your favor. If he feels anything other than lust and for you, Will, it's not gonna be because you're big, beautiful, and you wear leather. It's going to be because you were nervous about whether or not he'd like you, you love the fact that he'll cook for you..." she smiled, "and you thought to bring him flowers that match his hair. Ain't a hell of a lot of straight guys who'd go that far." She sighed. "Or a hell of a lot of gay women, either."

Chase came out of the kitchen, carrying a bowl of salad and a cruet. "You two can stop talking about me now. My ears were burning, and it wasn't from bending over the stove."

"Vain lil thing, aren't you?" said Mona, amused.

"Why no. Vanity is undeserved self admiration. I deserve it." He deposited what he was carrying, and turned back to the kitchen. "You two sit down while I get the rolls."

"Could I help?" asked William.

"Sweetie, I think that if both of us got into that kitchen it would take a shoe horn and grease to get us out again, but you get points for offering."

Mona whispered, "Yes, you do." They sat at the table. "I hope you know that he bought real butter for you. He's gonna have to work half-a-shift to pay for this dinner." When she saw Williamn's look, she said, "Don't you worry about that. Just enjoy it--it's what he wanted to do."

Chase came in, carrying a piled high plate, and another, smaller saucer--both covered by cloths. "I wish I'd gotten a bread basket. We'd better eat these quickly, or the bottom ones may get soggy." He put the plates down and sat. "I considered biscuits, but those are better with stew. Cornbread is good with beans, but I prefer it with chili."

William had lifted the cloth, sniffing appreciatively. "There's nothing like the smell of fresh baked bread. They look delicious. What brand are they?"

"Brand?"

"Yeah. Ready to bake, or frozen?"

"Oh, if I didn't like you, I'd be insulted."

"You don't mean to tell me that you actually baked? As in 'didn't even come out of a box'?"

He raised an eyebrow. "If I'd known you would have questioned the fact, I'd have left myself floured up to the elbow after the kneading. Get your hand away from those. We haven't said grace yet."

William watched curiously as Mona and Chase both folded their hands and closed their eyes. Chase peeked at him. "You don't have to, but don't interrupt." He closed his eyes again. "God is great, God is good. Let us thank him for this food. By his hand we are fed. Thank you, God, for daily bread. Amen." He opened his eyes. "Now you can take one, but don't grab. Did that bother you?"

Mona and Chase were watching him closely, and he answered honestly. "It just made me feel a little old. My grandma taught me that one. I just realized how long it's been since I even thought of it, much less said it out loud. I think it's kind of nice." The other two relaxed.

Chase offered the bowl of salad to William. "Just rake out what you want. That's another thing that goes on my 'get it when I can' list--salad tongs. The dressing is there. I'd shake it again if I didn't want a mouthful of sesame oil."

Mona helped herself after William, then took the cruet when he passed it to her. She started to pour the dressing, then wrinkled her nose. "Chase, where's the garlic? How can you have Italian dressing without...?"

"Ahem." Chase jerked his head toward William.

"Oh. Sorry."

Chase was playing the host to perfection. Miss Manners would have been proud. After William took a roll and placed it on his plate, he uncovered the butter dish and offered it to William. "Butter?"

William blinked, smiling delightedly. "It's in little balls! I've never seen that before."

"Blame my mother's collection of old fashioned cook books. You know, they used to make little textured paddles, so you could roll the butter into decorated balls. I'm afraid I had to use my measuring spoon set, but I got it. Melon baller--on the list."

They chatted comfortably as they ate. William and Chase found out each other's tastes in movies (both liked bloody horror, and Chase promised to get William hooked on sixties beach movies), books (historical fiction for William, mysteries for Chase, and both bemoaned the scarcity of good gay fiction in those genres), and music (classic rock for William, bubblegum and disco for Chase--with a rather surprising side trip into grunge). Chase then removed the empty plates to the kitchen.

Mona whispered. "I gotta tell you, big boy--I'm liking what I'm seeing so far. Most guys wouldn't be comfortable in a situation like this--not even the ones who didn't give a rat's ass if they were going to pass inspection or not."

"Even if you didn't think I was boyfriend material, you wouldn't try to stop me from just being his friend, would you?"

"No. Real friends aren't so easy to come by that I'd do that."

"Then I'm not worried--much."

"Mona?" Chase called. "Quit acting like the Queen of England and get in here. If I try to carry everthing you'll see a spectacular juggling act for about two seconds, then you'll have to dial 911 to get them to take care of my second degree burns."

Mona winked at William as she got up. "How the hell am I supposed to know you need me if you don't say something, you little fart?"

"Channel your inner Diane Warwick. Simple logic--I have only two arms, therefore carrying bowls, spoons, a trivet, and a scalding hot casserole are a little beyond even my talents."

"Will, are you sure you want this snarky little pouf?"

"Oh, I love it when you use a Spike-term. Now call me Peaches."

"No. It might inspire you to dye your hair orange."

William listened to the friendly, sarcastic banter. If he'd been inclined to be envious, now would be the time. He hadn't just been trying to impress Mona--if he couldn't be Chase's lover, he wanted to be his friend. There was something energizing, hugely life affirming about the boy.

They brought the bowls and food in. Chase had Mona carefully move the centerpeice to the coffee table so he could fit the casserole on the table. Then he helped William's plate, insisting that this was best, because it could be a bit messy. Finally William had a plate of fragrant, steaming beans and meat in front of him. He just looked at it for a moment, sniffing the apetising aroma and feeling his mouth fill with saliva. Then he noticed that though Mona and Chase had helped themselves, they weren't eating. They were watching him and there was a faint glint of anxiety in Chase's eyes. It made him look heartbreakingly vulnerable.

William spooned up some of the cassoulet, making sure to get both beans and a bit of meat. He chewed thoughtfully. Chase said, "Well?" He picked up a roll and bounced it on his palm, like a ball. "And remember that I'm armed."

"It's too fluffy to do me any damage," said William. "And you can disarm. This is fantastic." He pointed a spoon at Chase. "You're not to let me have seconds."

"Why not?"

"Because I'll get sleepy if I'm too full." He smiled. "And I'd like to be awake and alert."

"I know our place is small, but we have enough room for you to take an after dinner nap, if you really need it." Chase looked at Mona. "Or do you think he'd fit on the love seat? He's got awfully long legs."

Mona didn't look up from her plate, but said quietly. "Probably not, but he could always sack out on your bed." She looked up, making eye contact with both of them. "I'm going to want to watch one of those 'somebody done somebody wrong' made for tv movies that you hate, Chase. Why don't you take William in your room after dinner and show him your comic--or something?"

William reached over, took her hand, and raised it to his lips. "Thank you."

Chase was smiling blindingly at William. Suddenly he jumped up, babbling. "I'm an idiot--a complete idiot! I forgot the wine!" He hurried into the kitchen.

Mona winked at William. "Watch yourself. I don't know how wine affects him. Mai Tai, or anything else with a paper umbrella, or served in a coconut shell--yes. Even tequilla shooters or Jello shots--yes. But I don't think I've ever seen him drink plain wine."

"I beg your pardon," said Chase, bringing in the bottle and three glasses. "What about last Saturday?"

"I don't count Boones Farm, baby. That's mostly sugar water. And I don't mean those Key Lime or Pina Colada coolers you like, either. This," she flicked a finger at the bottle. "Looks like the real deal."

Chase looked at the bottle, then blinked. "Well, I guess it is. Mona, this has a cork, not a screw top."

"Say now. Boyfriend went all the way, didn't he?"

"But I don't have a corkscrew. That's..."

"On the list," said William. He pulled out a pocket knife and unfolded a small corkscrew, crooking his fingers at Chase. "Hand it over and I'll do the honors."

"Good God--you really ARE a Boy Scout." Chase handed over the bottle and watched as William quickly and neatly pulled the cork, then filled the glasses and passed them around. Chase said, "Well, if we have something that's more than fermented pear juice and flavorings, we ought to have toasts. Mona? You're the token lady."

"Who you calling 'lady', short stuff?" She lifted her glass. "To new friends. Chase?"

"William next," said Chase.

"But you're the host. Technically you should have gone first."

"Thank you, Emily Post. William?"

William lifted his glass, looking at Chase. "To beginnings."

Chase's smile softened, and he lifted his own glass. "To all the possibilities spread before us." They all lifted their glasses again, and took a sip. "Oh, my goodness. That's lovely. Very smooth."

"But deceptive. Sip it slowly," William cautioned. He put down his glass and turned his attention back to his food. After a moment he shook his head.

"What's wrong?" Chase kept his voice calm. *It's been going so well. Please don't have let him bite into a hard bean, or pebble. I rinsed those things...*

"It's just such a cliche."

"What is?"

"I can't help but sit here, look at you, and think 'All this, and he cooks, too'."

Chase and Mona burst out laughing, and the rest of the meal was very relaxed. When they were done Mona started to gather the dishes. "You two go on--I'll take care of this."

Not sounding too very sincere, Chase said, "Are you sure you don't want us to help?"

"And have me stepping in puddles of drool from you two gazing at each other? I don't think so. Go on, Chase. Go show him those comics--" she smiled, "or something."

Chase led William back to his room. Stepping inside he said, "Shut the door after yourself, will you? I'd have to climb back over the bed to do it."

William did so, looking around the room. It was even more crowded than the living room. It contained a double bed, a night stand, and a small dresser at the foot of the bed (leaving just enough room to stand there--if Chase had bent over, his butt would have projected over the bed). There was barely enough room for the door to the rest of the apartment to open, and it was a good thing that the doors on the closet were sliding--had it been a regulation door, Chase would have never been able to open it more than a foot.

Chase spread his hands to indicate the room, saying, "My domain. Tiny--but mine."

The room was rather plain, and William thought that it was a little out of character for Chase. He'd have expected lots of knick-knacks and decorations. "Where are your tchotchkes?"

"No space. Believe me, if I can ever spread out, I'll probably have dust catchers on every flat surface. I'll support the Franklin Mint. In the mean time, I focus on one good piece." Chase pointed at the ceiling, and William glanced up. There was a poster hanging directly overhead. It was the classic black and white picture of Marlon Brando on his motercycle in The Wild One. Clad in black leather, with a cap tilted at low on his eyes, he brooded down at the empty bed. "Please note the placement."

"So I see. I'm going to have to show you my jacket sometime."

Chase's eyes lit up. "You do, and I'll race your motor." Chase opened his top drawer and pulled out a plastic bag encased comic book. He edged back toward William, and offered it. "My treasure."

William took it. "So you really have a comic book?"

"I have quite a few. What did you think?"

"I thought maybe it was just an excuse to get me in here--sort of like showing me your etchings."

"I'll have to remember that one. No. That's one of my favorite things in this world." He reached out, fingers caressing the back of the book. "Alpha Flight #106--the issue where Northstar comes out of the closet. That was in 1992. I discovered that comic book in a swap shop in 1999, when I was fifteen. After I read it about ten times, I officially came out to my mother. You know what she said? She said, 'Drat. I was looking forward to making myself a nuisance when your fiancee planned your wedding.' Would you like to read it?"

"Would it be all right? You're preserving it pretty carefully."

"I think it would be all right." Chase ran a finger down William's arm. "I think you can be trusted to be careful with nice things."

William's smile faded slightly. "Would it be all right if I read it at a later date?"

"Sure." Chase took the book and put it back in the drawer. He turned, putting his hands on the dresser behind him, and leaning back a little. He said flirtatiously. "Now, what shall we do to pass the time?" William sat on the edge of the bed and patted his thighs. "I like how you think."

Chase deliberately minced when he went over, and he didn't so much sit as light. Then he slipped an arm around William's neck and said, "Miss Mona likes you."

"I like her, too." He had his hands on Chase's waist, and he squeezed. "Not as much as I like you, though."

"Goes without saying. I'm simply adorable."

"You're also a bit of a brat, but yeah--I agree. Kiss me."

"Is that a request, or an order?"

"Which do you want it to be?"

Chase studied him. "An order."

"Are you sure?" Chase nodded. "Then kiss me--now." Chase bent to him, and touched his mouth to William's in an almost chaste press. Before he could pull back William nipped lightly at his bottom lip. "That was nice--for a twelve year old. Give me a real one." This time Chase kissed him open-mouthed, making it soft and juicy, slipping his tongue in to wiggle lazily. When he pulled back this time William breathed, "That's what I'm talkin' about. You gave me a nice surprise with your cooking skills. I have a little surprise for you, too. Unhook."

Chase reluctantly took his arm from around William's neck, and watched as he started to unbutton his shirt. When William had the buttons undone, exposing a narrow strip of muscled chest, he took hold of Chase's hand, pressing it flat against his breastbone. Then he slid Chase's hand to the side, pulling it beneath the fabric.

Chase's fingertip brushed a peak of firm flesh, and he smiled, then looked puzzled. He patted, and encountered something hard and thin. He moved it with his fingers, trying to feel its shape, and William took a deep breath. Chase suddenly sat up straighter, grabbed the edge of the shirt in his other hand, and flipped it open.

There was a thin silver hoop threaded through William's right nipple. The nipple was swollen into a crinkled little bud--but not by pain. Chase quickly moved the shirt aside and found that William had a matching set. "Oh, my god," he breathed. He ran his hands up William's rib cage, stopping when the rings lay flat attop his knuckles, and stared at them. "When did you have this done?"

"I was nineteen, and I got very drunk celebrating passing a major test." He shrugged. "It seemed like a good idea at the time. The girl who did it told me that I could always just let them grow closed if I changed my mind, but I never changed my mind."

"I'm so glad you didn't. Those are gorgeous." His hands trailed over William's chest, sketching around his pectorals. "And you're so smooth. Smoother even than I am. I could just... just..."

"Go on, Chase. Do what you want."

Chase did. He bent his head, gripping William's shoulders for balance, and licked William's right nipple. Then he did it again, and again. He sucked the little ring and the flesh it pierced into his mouth, working his tongue over, around, and through while William's breathing speeded up, and he cupped the back of Chase's head. He groaned when Chase took the ring between his teeth and tugged gently. Chase gave him another lick, then whispered, "This is the first time I've got to play with something like this."

"Well, you damn sure know what you're doing, except that you're neglecting the other side."

"What a nice way to scold me. Please forgive me." He transfered his attentions to the left side, giving it even more lavish treatment. Now that he'd seen how far he could go without hurting, he did a lot more nibbling and tugging, and his nipples weren't the only part of William that got hard.

William rubbed his face against Chase's soft, rosy hair, breathing in the boy's scent. Chase smelled like shampoo, spice, and fresh bread. "How about you, hm?" murmured William. William still held Chase's head, but used his free hand to begin unbuttoning the boy's shirt. He slipped his hand inside, spidering his hand over the boy's chest. "Yes, you're smooth, too--but you don't have to work at it, do you?" William's fingers brushed crinkled skin, and he smiled. "And you're already hard here, you clever little thing. Do you like this, too?" He pinched lightly.

Chase moaned around the ring in his mouth, then lifted his head to look into William's face. "Harder?"

"Whatever you want, baby." William pinched more firmly. Chase bit his lip, half closing his eyes. "Oh, you like that, don't you?"

"More?"

William tweaked the other bud, then said, "No more of that right now." He rubbed. "Don't want to risk bruising you, do we?"

"I wouldn't mind."

"I would." William took Chase's chin in his hand, holding his gaze. "I like rough play, too, Chase, but we're going to move slowly here. You and Mona both trust me not to hurt you, and I'm not going to. A little ache or sting puts a nice edge on things, but we're going to have to take a little time to set the boundries."

Chase studied him. "Are you far enough into that sort of thing to need boundries?"

"If I'm with someone I care about."

Chase smiled at him. "Then we go slow. I can deal with that. It's just as well--I was so flustered when I went shopping that I didn't think to get any lube. All we have in the house is butter or sesame oil."

"And food play is still a little way down the road."

"Besides--they'd stain my sheets. So, if we aren't going to screw, what are we going to do?" Chase's hand wiggled down between them, and he stroked the bulge in William's pants. "You need to do something with this. Well, -I- need you to do something with it."

"Sure, baby. But if you want to play with it, you're going to have to take it out yourself."

"That can be arranged." He wiggled slightly farther out on William's legs so he could reach his zipper. He undid the button, then pulled down the zipper and slipped his hand in. His eyes went round. "No underwear! Oh, you dirty, dirty man. How perfectly marvelous." He worked William's hard-on out into the open, then looked down at it for several moments.

Amused, William said, "You act like you've never seen one before."

"It's just that this is my first good look at yours."

"And?"

"Whoa. At some point in the future I hope to be very, very full."

"That's in the future. Right now, fill your hand."

Chase rubbed his palm against the shaft, then wrapped his fingers around it. "I can almost get it all the way around."

"Then use both, and squeeze a little more." Chase looked at him questioningly, and William nodded.

Chase did as he was told, but he was a little apprehensive. There'd been a few times in his past when an over eager lover had used too tight a grip, and he remembered those times vividly, but William gave a murmur of approval. "You have smooth hands, sweetheart." He began to slide Chase's hands up and down.

"I know how to do this myself."

"I know you do, but you're going to let me do this. Kiss me again."

Chase did, feeling the warm, solid flesh between his palms, and the even more solid flesh directing his movements. Chase liked to be led and guided, and William seemed to know this instinctively, and give him exactly what he wanted. Chase relaxed against William even more, pliant and accepting, and this increased William's desire. He put his lips against Chase's ear as he used the boy's hands to masturbate, and whispered to him, detailing things they could try later in a hot, loving voice. Soon Chase was whimpering, trying to increase the speed of the action, but held firmly to the pace that William wanted. In a little while William sighed, and Chase felt warm liquid splatter up over his moving wrists.

William gripped Chase's hair and lifted his head so that he could kiss him again. "You're so sweet. Did you know that the nutritional value of this amount of semen is equal to that of 8 ounces of beefsteak, ten eggs, six oranges, and two lemons combined?"

"Good lord. I think you just invented the Gay Diet--two blow jobs a day, and eat a sensible dinner."

"You can learn all sorts of things on the Internet." He took Chase's hand, bent his head, and licked away the come. Chase had never thought of his wrists as errogenous zones, but he found that he'd been wrong. William grazed up Chase's forearm to the inside of his elbow, teeth pinching lightly at the tender skin. "Open your pants, doll. Show me how pretty you are."

Chase opened his pants with trembling fingers. Before he could expose himself, William pushed aside his hands and did it. He stroked Chase's prick lightly. "And now I get to look at you. They need better lighting in that restroom. Someone should tell them that they need more than dim lighting to make it romantic. Ah." He chuckled. "Chase, you have two heads, the same color. You're just precious."

"I try."

"You succeed." Chase's cock was decent sized, but William had large hands, and he managed to pretty much engulf it. He started rubbing and squeezing. "You know what I'm going to do to you?"

"I can only hope," Chase breathed.

"I'm going to get you very, very excited, but you're not going to come till I let you."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes, because we're both going to try. You tell me when you're getting close. If you don't tell me, and you come off-- I'll be displeased. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," said Chase meekly. *And I used to think that it was a joke for people to try to discipline their children just by telling them that if they did wrong it would upset Mummie and Daddy.* William continued to carress him, and it wasn't long before Chase could feel the erotic tension coiling in his balls, ready to launch his orgasm. "Will?"

"All right, baby. Don't be scared." William's fingers circled the base of Chase's cock, and he squeezed tightly. Chase's eyes flew open in surprise, and he squeaked. "Too tight?"

Chase's voice was breathy and high pitched. "Just a little startling. What are you doing?"

"I'm pressing the seminal vesicle shut, blocking the exit. Just be still and quiet for a minute. Try not to think about sex."

"The man has my cock in his hand, and he tells me not to have sexy thoughts." Chase's eyes rolled up. "Nine times one is nine. Nine times two is eighteen. Nine times three is twenty-seven. Nine times four is..."

"Why didn't you start with the ones?"

"Because they're too simple to keep me distracted, but naughty, nasty, mean old number nine will do it.** Now let me concentrate. Nine times four is thirty-six..."

"Which is also six times six."

"Stop it! Nine times five is forty-five. Nine times six is... is... Okay, I think it's safe now, but please don't make me go through that again."

"No, darlin'." William's hand started moving again, more quickly. He stroked the boy, increasing the speed of his hand, feeling the tension rising in Chase's body. When he judged that the time was right, he turned slightly, pushing Chase so that the boy fell back on the bed. Chase squeaked in surprise, then howled as William bent down, took his glans in his mouth and lashed it with his tongue. He tried to thrust upward, but William had taken hold of his hips and held him down firmly, forcing him to just let the orgasm roll over him.

William caught the warm, salty bursts on the back of his throat. When Chase stopped shuddering, William gave his cock a kiss, then redressed him as he lay there, limp and content. He lifted Chase's legs up onto the bed, saying, "It didn't do any good to have just one helping. I think I need that nap anyway."

As William crawled up beside Chase and lay on his side, Chase said, "Dessert! I knew I was going to forget something. I have ice cream, and..."

William urged the boy over onto his side also, then spooned up behind Chase, pulling him in tight. "You're not going anywhere, bed warmer. Besides..." he squeezed. "I've already had all the sweets I need." He nibbled the back of Chase's neck. "Sleep now."

Chase shivered, then murmured, "I'm not sleepy."

William rubbed Chase's belly idly. "Be a good boy. Let Daddy sleep."

Chase felt warm--and not just from the body heat of the big man pressing against him. "Okay." Chase lay and listened--and felt--as William's breathing slowed into the rhythm of sleep. He wasn't sleepy--really he wasn't. He was just going to rest his eyes for a minute.

Mona felt that she'd made the right decision in giving her blessing, but she couldn't help being a little nervous. The boys had been back in Chase's bedroom for about an hour, and they'd been awful quiet. There was always the chance that William had fooled her, and was really a demented gay version of Ted Bundy, able to lull the unsuspecting. The need to check on Chase was growing stronger every moment.

*If he gets mad, he'll tear me up,* she thought. *Sweet as he is, that boy can have a tongue like a Gillett razor when he gets truly angry instead of just pissed off.* She waited another moment, then stood up. *Screw it. If they're as occupied as I think they were gonna get, they might not even notice a quick peek. I'll just be fast and quiet.*

Before she could think too much she tip-toed to the bedroom door, stealthily turned the knob, then quickly opened the door a slit, peeked through, and shut it just as quickly and quietly. She tip-toed back to the sofa and sat down. Chase had been on his side, sleeping like a baby, looking flushed and rumpled. All she could see of William was a leg thrown over Chase's legs, an arm over his waist, and a hint of dark hair behind Chase's pink fluff. Both of them had been snoring lightly.

Feeling a huge, silly grin spreading over her face, she turned the volume on the television up a fraction and settled down to watch some hound dog of a husband cheat on his long suffering wife, just before she killed his ass and proved that she wasn't such a sad bitch after all.