They exchanged a few words about the bathroom and Andy went to it, wearing shorts and carrying belongings. Lance undressed and put on a dressing gown. Andy returned wearing immaculately white pajamas, shining with cleanliness, the velvet sheen of his skin having somehow acquired dusky undertones. Was Andy a Negro? It was a subject he avoided in Scot’s world except when important issues were involved; he had learned that a tone of voice or a careless word could cause appalling misunderstandings. Scot’s ex-husband was white. He had assumed that Carol’s husband might be white, too.

  He looked at his mouth for the first time. He had been so moved by the sweetness of his smile that he hadn’t been able to see the lips that formed it. They were full but not particularly negroid, all tender curves, sensitive and expressive, from which sensuality hadn’t been excluded. He saw the ambiguous beauty he must have possessed a few years earlier. It was almost gone but glimpses could still be caught by a watchful eye.

  They smiled at each other as Lance went in his turn to the bathroom. Getting ready for bed, he felt the powerful tug of attraction drawing him back to the main room. For some reason, he was sure that Andy felt it too. Their response to each other was deeper and more unguarded than was usual between two guys.

  To Lance, the feeling was as simple and steadying as the person who inspired it. He had loved him all evening. He needed him. Scot kept him strung up to a high pitch of endeavor, striving to prove himself to her, constantly searching for something in himself that he could feel was good enough for her. But until Scot was truly his physically as well as emotionally, he needed somebody he could relax with, to whom he could acknowledge his failures and weaknesses. He shoved his hands into his dressing gown pockets and returned to his guest.

  He was in bed under the covers, propped on a pillow. Lance perched on the edge of the bed. “Are you going to be comfortable enough?” he asked.

  “It’s perfect. I’m not going to be in the way?”

  “You know you’re not. I love having you here.”

  “I’m glad. I think I’m going to be in the city quite a lot in the next few months. We should work out how I can pay my share. It would be like having a place of my own. I’d even let you stay.”

  “That’s decent of you. I don’t know. Scot says I don’t know how to be poor. Maybe taking money from you would be good for my soul. Do friends usually pay when they stay with each other?”

  “Sure. They share. It makes them closer friends.”

  “I’m all in favor of that.”

  Lance moved a hand to his shoulder to seal the agreement. Andy curled a hand around his wrist. The small physical contact was as satisfying to Lance as putting their arms around each other. They looked into each other’s eyes and had no need for words. Andy edged over and pushed back the covers and Lance slid in beside him, discarding his dressing gown as he did so. His hands were lover’s hands as he helped Andy out of his pajamas. They lay with their bodies pressed to each other and their mouths joined. Their lips declared their peaceful need of each other while their bodies flowed gently into each other. Holding Andy was like a plunge into cool spring water, fresh and pure and exhilarating. It seemed to Lance the ultimate lovemaking, requiring no further expression of desire.

  They moved against each other slowly, their tongues leading them to consummation. They locked together briefly and had orgasms against each other’s bellies. They laughed softly as their lips parted.

  “Well, well, well,” Andy said.

  “That’s what I was thinking.” They laughed again. “Stay still. I’ll try to get up without making a mess.” Lance disengaged himself carefully, sprang up, and hurried to the bathroom. He washed quickly, feeling no strain or self-consciousness about what had happened, only amazement that Andy had wanted it so much, and returned with washcloth and towel, as happy and relaxed as if he’d known Andy all his life. He crouched beside the bed while his new friend mopped himself up and dried himself.

  Andy looked at Lance with his melting smile. “We’re very juicy guys,” he said. “I love you, man.”

  “Oh, man, I love you, too.” Lance pulled the covers over him and leaned down and kissed him lightly on the lips. “Get a good sleep,” he said.

  “Thanks. You too, you hear? We’ll get a chance to talk tomorrow.”

  They got up together, got ready for the day and had coffee together without exchanging a glance, a word, a gesture that acknowledged the physical bond that had sprung up between them. They laughed together and looked into each other’s eyes with unguarded loving appreciation and acceptance of each other without its encroaching on their lives outside the room.

  Proceeding with his self-imposed reading program during the day, Lance’s thoughts wandered occasionally to Andy. Perhaps what they had done was extraordinary but it seemed wonderfully natural to him. He was glad of last year’s experiences for having prepared him for it. Experience must have made it possible for Andy to take it for granted too. He couldn’t imagine any problems with Andy, so it was hardly worth worrying about. It didn’t make any sense to think of him in connection with the other two. Andy hadn’t made even a tentative move to do any of the things Lance might have expected.

  Andy came back unexpectedly in the middle of the afternoon. They greeted each other as old friends, not lovers. No physical contact was made. Andy joined him at the table, where his books and notes were spread out. Andy handled the books, glancing at them, and they talked about them and about Andy’s day. He looked tired, like a lawyer and a husband, not beautiful but good-looking in a not particularly striking way, like thousands who passed unnoticed in the streets, with regular features and a mouth that was seductive only when it smiled. Lance knew the feel of the furry blondish hair and the velvety skin and the body under the subdued businessman’s suit and he loved him. A silence fell between them while they looked deep into each other’s eyes.

  “Shall we talk about last night?” Andy asked.

  “I’ve been thinking about it.”

  “Good. Do you want to start or shall I? Let me. I’m a reformed homosexual. When I was a teenager, I thought I might go that way. I wasn’t very active but it happened often enough for it to begin to look like a pattern. There were girls but they didn’t cure me of my fantasies about boys. It scared me. I don’t have anything against it but most people do. It doesn’t make life any easier. When I fell in love with Carol, the problem just went away. I didn’t make a secret of my lurid past. I told her about my fantasy dream-boy—a beautiful blond with a perfect body and big cock. I met him for the first time last night but it didn’t scare me. I wanted you in bed with me, of course, but I wasn’t going wild for it the way I would’ve once upon a time. Why did it happen so easily? I’m nobody’s dream-boy.”

  Lance looked into unguarded, humorously loving eyes. “I love you. I did all evening. When we got back here, I felt something happening between us and it seemed natural to get into bed with you. I knew we both felt the same way.”

  “Did we? That’s what I’d like to know.” He reached across the table and held Lance’s hand. “The homosexual in me didn’t go away. It’s just not a problem anymore, not even with you. Last night was a big test. Was it for you?”

  “Not that I know of. You mean, do I have a lurid past? It’s happened twice.”

  “At school?”

  “Nothing at school. Nothing in the navy, but I was never really in the navy, shut up with guys for long stretches at a time. It happened about a year ago. I wanted to find out what it was like more than I wanted the guys, if that makes any sense. They weren’t much more than names and bodies. I’m not even sure I like the sex. There was something sort of compulsive about it. What does that make me?”

  Andy’s enchanting smile wreathed his face. “A crazy mixed-up kid like the rest of us. I must say, I used to think the sex was sensational. That’s what’s changed about me but I wasn’t absolutely sure until last night. I’m glad we didn’t want to do much of anything. I don’t want to relapse. The guys I fell for mostly took me. You know, fucked me. I didn’t get a chance to become a dedicated cocksucker. It doesn’t show anymore but I was a very pretty kid.”

  “It shows. I’ll bet you were much more than pretty. You’re damned good-looking now.”

  “We better not start telling each other what we think of our looks. I might embarrass you.” Their hands stroked each other and Andy’s smile faded as his eyes grew intently searching. “Let’s just say that we love each other.”

  “That’ll do. It’s an extension of what I feel for Scot. You make me feel much more part of the family than she’ll let me be yet. Being in bed with you made all the difference. Someday, she’ll let me make love to her and we’ll be all set. I don’t know how homosexual I am, but holding your hand could easily give me a hard-on.”

  The smile returned like a light being turned on. “Same here, if I can mention mine in the same breath. Yours is a major event. Let’s hold hands a lot and play with each other like kids. That can’t do anybody any harm.”

  “It’s a deal. Are you a Negro? That sounds as idiotic as this whole business about race. You’re you. You’re Andy. I love you more than any guy I’ve ever known. That’s all that counts. Are you?”

  Andy laughed. “Of course. I thought you knew. My father is as black as the ace of spades. My mother and I look alike. I can pass when there’s some reason to—like at school, for instance. I work for a Negro legal firm, one of the few in the country. I’m useful when there’s business with whites. My boy’s a throwback.” His smile filled his face with pride. “He’s a beautiful little pickaninny. I guess you and Scot have talked about that possibility.”

  “Sure. She thinks she can frighten me with the idea. There might be problems—there always are for anybody—but I think I’d love it. Can I tell her about us? It might be important. She won’t be able to go on talking about the color bar. If I can’t have a black girl I’ll have a black boy.” They laughed, totally at ease with each other.

  “You can tell her anything you like. You don’t have to tell her we love each other. I told her last night. I spoke for both of us. How’s that for an uppity nigger? I’ve talked with her a lot about you even though I didn’t know you. I told her she shouldn’t keep you dangling. I said she should let you go or really live with you and see what you could make of it. She’s a wonderful lady and you’re a wonderful guy. If anybody can make it together, you should be able to.”

  Lance’s throat tightened with the affection he heard in his voice. “Thanks. Most people warn her against me.”

  “I know. I’ve read a lot of silly stuff about you but I knew you weren’t like that. Everything Scot said about you made that obvious. You’ve got to beat some sense into her.”

  “I’m trying but she has a lot of sense on her side. Maybe I’m not enough of a caveman. I sometimes want to stamp and holler but I can’t force myself on her.”

  “Her husband did but that didn’t work very well. You need me. We know all the things she’s frightened of but you can’t make a life being frightened. Do you expect to be late tonight?”

  “I shouldn’t think so. I’m taking Scot to one of those meeting things of hers. We’re never much later than eleven.”

  “I should be free by ten-thirty. We’ll talk all night. But right now, I need a shower. This city has a way of coming off on you. You can come with me. I’ve always had a weakness for groping guys in showers.”

  Lance had an ally. Andy’s strength was becoming a part of him; he would have the strength of two. Any doubts he might have had about the course he had chosen vanished. With Andy at his side, he was going to get Scot.

  They hitched their chairs out from the table and sat side by side while they removed their shoes and socks. When they were naked to the waist, Andy leaned forward and put his hands on Lance’s shoulders and kissed him, testing him, while Lance’s hands strayed caressingly over his chest. He drew back, intent eyes searching Lance’s. “You really don’t care about race, do you?” he said.

  “No. I just don’t think about it, I don’t know why. I love her. I love you the way you are, whatever you are. She can’t believe it.”

  “I’ll tell her. I believe it. She does too, but she’s a woman. She thinks too much.”

  They stood and finished stripping themselves and turned to each other. Andy laughed and gave his head an incredulous little shake as he slowly looked him over. “Here you are in broad daylight. They say seeing is believing but I’m not so sure. Lordy, Lance baby. I used to think my fantasies were pretty hot stuff but I never dreamed up anything like you. If this had happened five or six years ago, Carol wouldn’t’ve stood a chance.”

  Lance conducted his own survey, smiling with pleasure. As long-legged as Scot. Slim torso. A dusky hairless sheen on a light ripple of muscle. A sudden friendly erection, compact, vigorous, manly, with no extra for show. It was ridiculous that men weren’t supposed to feel anything about each other’s bodies and he was glad that he could let himself enjoy this physical intimacy. He moved closer. Andy held up a warning hand.

  “Don’t come too close until I’ve washed. All niggers smell funny. You know that.”

  “A good scrub should help.” Lance reached for him and held him in front of him.

  Andy ran a hand along his cock. “Man, that feels good,” Andy exclaimed appreciatively. “Such a big fat baby. It’s been needing some attention. I’m going to take care of it from now on.”

  Lance looked down at Andy’s trim instrument, finding its lively thrust very nearly irresistible. Did Andy want his in him as much as he wanted Andy’s? They were playing with dynamite but Andy had defused it with playfulness. They would keep it that way. He ran a hand over Andy’s furry head and headed them toward the bathroom.

  Lance spent the next few evenings with Scot as usual, but afterwards he and Andy talked late into the night, going around and around the familiar problems that stood in the way of a happy and reasonable life for him and Scot. Could they have children, possibly black, when Scot already had a white child? Where could they live? Did Lance have any hope of getting a divorce? Andy was pretty sure he couldn’t so long as Pam remained under his mother’s control.

  “Why did you two have to fall in love with each other?” Andy said with a sigh late one night. “It would’ve been much easier if it happened to us. Think of it. No children. No need for divorces. It would’ve ruined my career but I suppose that would’ve been a small price to pay. We both could’ve become Western Union messenger boys and lived happily ever after.”

  Lance laughed. “That’s the sort of job I’d be good at.”

  “Everybody’s so alike these days, all of us in our little cubbyholes. You forget how difficult it is to be an exception. You and Scot are exceptions. You’re going to have to break all the rules.”

  For those few days and later, all through the odd winter of frustration and hope and an indispensable sense of slow progress, affection flourished between them like a sturdy growth that bound them to each other and nourished Lance. He had never had a friend and knew that a few years ago the assortment of predigested opinions and attitudes concealed by his cultivated, handsome facade could never have attracted one. He was continually amazed and delighted that he could hold Andy’s interest.

  Sex had as little to do with it as they both had expected. After the first few times, they knew without saying anything that it wasn’t going to become an addiction, but Andy loved seeing Lance with an erection and he was happy to oblige. They frequently showered together and always pushed the beds together on Andy’s brief but fairly frequent visits to the city. At moments they felt such satisfaction in each other that Scot seemed almost irrelevant, although all their thoughts and plans were directed at overcoming her resistance to the good life Lance was preparing himself to offer her.

  Unexpectedly, as the winter wore on, Lance began to concentrate on art history. He had always liked to sketch and had a deft hand but had never taken it seriously. The discovery that interested him was that he had an eye that cut through the cant of much art literature. A new world opened to him. He began to frequent museums and galleries. He was particularly interested in the contemporary work being shown in the city. It was an interest that he could share with Scot. When something caught her eye at an exhibition, he was able to explain its strengths and weaknesses in a way that enlarged her appreciation.

  Andy followed this development with practical encouragement. He investigated the working future Lance might have in curatorial positions with museums or in art criticism. Lance was uncomfortable with the dilettantism implicit in such work. It was getting too close to the family tradition of patronage, too far removed from the gritty reality of Scot’s civil rights work. He wanted to be doing something, not following what other people did.

  “You’ll never completely escape your background, baby,” Andy said. “You shouldn’t try. It takes a black boy to understand the Negro’s problems. People work hard to pick up the culture and education that was handed to you. You’re already free of all the phoniness that came with it. You can relax, Lance baby. Scot’s really excited about what you’re getting into.”

  New York could never be good for them, they agreed at last. It was Andy’s idea that Lance should know his own country better. He wanted him to go away for a couple of months during the summer, look for a place he thought they’d like, find out how the majority of his compatriots lived. When he came back, his savings would be almost gone and he would have to start doing some of the things they had talked so much about.

  Once she was won over, Scot was enthusiastic about the plan. His absence would give her the time she needed to assess how impossible life would be without him. She had known him a year and everything she had learned about him had strengthened the love that had been declared between them at the start.

  Spring was a time for euphoria. Lance was gripped by it. He could see an end at last to the waiting. Andy heard that he might be sent to some Central American country on business. If so, he might be able to travel for a couple of days with Lance and get him started on his way. He wanted him to make the trip by bus and train so that he would see what went on between airports.