“Are you still sore at me?” Stanley asked.

  “Nah, you’re right, I was being an asshole,” Tom said. He grinned again, wider, flashing white teeth. “Actually, it was kind of cute, you standing up to me like that.”

  “Don’t be patronizing. I wasn’t trying to be cute.” He waited briefly. There was something Tom had not yet said, that Stanley thought he ought to say. And surely there would never be a better moment to say it.

  It seemed however, that Tom was not yet ready to cross that particular bridge. Stanley sighed, thinking aloud: “It’s probably a good thing for you I’m not into the discipline scene.”

  “What? Whips and chains, you mean, that kind of stuff?”

  “Discipline? Oh, it’s, uh, all different kinds of stuff. People tie one another up. And spanking—that’s what I was thinking of. I swear, there are times I would like nothing better than to tie you up and spank your behind really good for you.”

  Tom gave him a funny kind of look. “Guys do that? Spank one another? I didn’t know that. How’s that work?”

  “Well, it’s not something I’m familiar with. I suppose one of them is the spanker and the other the spankee. Or, maybe they take turns, and… why are looking at me like that?”

  “Nothing. Just curious. There’s a lot I don’t know about this shit, that’s for sure.”

  Stanley studied him for a long moment. Tom had taken an intense interest in his beer, carefully peeling a corner of the label loose from the bottle. He wondered… There were certainly times, a lot of times, when Tom Danzel surprised the hell out of him.

  Spanking?

  DEADLY WRONG 229

  Carl emerged from his bedroom, carrying a bulky duffle.

  “Thanks,” he said, shaking Stanley’s hand briefly, and Tom’s a bit longer. “You’re heading out early?”

  Tom nodded. “Pretty early. It’s a long drive. We’ll have to make time.”

  “I’m not much of an early morning person,” Carl said.

  Stanley thought of the previous morning, Carl up before he was, eager to make breakfast. He decided to keep that to himself, though. He had taken a vow to be nicer to this unhappy young man. All in all, he thought there was more to Carl than he’d first imagined. He was beginning to see what Donnie had seen in him. He couldn’t help wondering what the future might have held for the two of them, if murder hadn’t intruded.

  “It’s okay,” Tom said. “You can sleep in. You’re entitled.”

  “No, I’ll be here,” Carl said. He obviously had something on his mind. He had the look of someone trying to screw up his courage.

  “So, I was kind of wondering,” he said, speaking mostly to Tom but glancing uneasily at Stanley every minute or so, “say, if I finished up my schooling, got my GED, I—well, this town, you know, it sucks. And I was thinking, maybe San Francisco.

  Look for a job there.” He paused, waiting for some response.

  Tom’s face was blank.

  “You mean, a place to stay, maybe some help finding a job?”

  Stanley volunteered.

  “Yeah. That kind of thing.” He looked an appeal at Tom.

  “Talk to him,” Tom said, jerking a thumb in Stanley’s direction. “He’s the boss.” He went into the bathroom, both of them looking after him, surprised. They heard a toilet lid bang, and a noisy pee.

  Carl turned his surprise on Stanley, who only shrugged.

  “We’re still trying to work out the ground rules,” Stanley said, recovering. “But, sure, Carl. We’ll help you make the move.

  Give me a call when you get things straightened out here. You can bunk down at my place. No drugs though.”

  “No problem. I haven’t done anything since Donnie died.

  Except smoke a roach the one night.”

  230 Victor Banis

  Stanley nodded approvingly. “I know some people who can help you find a job, too.”

  He looked Carl up and down, and thought of his friend, Chris. Chris liked younger guys… and Carl could be cute, cleaned up, smiling. He remembered what Libby had said, about Carl’s carrying a black cloud over his head wherever he went. But maybe that was the lack of love in his life, the right kind of love. Libby’s, he suspected, had been distant, real but timorous, the mother’s smothering, Hannah’s entirely false.

  Anyway, that had all been from women, and maybe what Carl needed wasn’t a woman’s love. Maybe his crush on Tom was more symbolic than serious. He had offered himself to Stanley first, hadn’t he? So, he was reaching out. Maybe on some unconscious level, he already knew what he needed. And he was far more likely to find it in San Francisco than he was in Bear Mountain.

  “As a matter of fact,” Stanley said, “I know somebody I think would like to meet you.”

  “A g-gay guy?” Stanley nodded.

  Carl burst into one of those grins that instantly transformed him from a sad sack into a nice looking young man, and the stuttering vanished as suddenly as it had begun. “That’s cool.

  What’s he like?”

  “Oh,” Stanley waved a hand, all at once convinced that Chris would find Carl attractive; convinced, too, that the attraction would prove to be mutual. “You’ll see. Call me, okay?”

  “You got it.” Carl started toward the door, paused again with his hand on the knob. “Uh, would it be okay… like, would you mind if I, you know, like if I gave you a hug?”

  “I was hoping you’d ask,” Stanley said.

  They hugged, and Stanley gave him a quick peck on the lips, and an even quicker pat on his fanny.

  “Tell Tom I’ll see him in the morning,” Carl said, and left, looking happier than he had since Stanley had arrived.

  Stanley turned, to discover that Tom had come out of the bathroom. The log in the fireplace cracked again, like an exclamation point. In its wake, an oddly charged silence DEADLY WRONG 231

  descended between them, a sense of aloneness different from anything they had experienced before. Suddenly they both felt tongue-tied.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “So, what was that business about me being the boss?”

  Stanley asked.

  “You are, aren’t you?”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Stanley, since this whole business started between the two of us, when have you ever not gotten your way about anything?”

  “Well, I…” Stanley started to say, and stopped. Really, he couldn’t think of an instance. Tom had been reluctant, often, sometimes downright hostile—but, in the end, he had invariably done whatever it was that Stanley had wanted from him. Or, almost always.

  “You walked out on me,” he said.

  “I came back, too. Fuck, Stanley, you got my dick, you got my cherry, you’ve got everything you want out of me. It seems to me like you’ve got me twisted around your little finger. If that’s not the boss, I don’t know what is.”

  Stanley had to think about that. Maybe he had been unaware of his own power. “Well, so, if I’m the boss,” he said, “how about if I say we go to bed?”

  “Not to sleep?”

  “Not right away.”

  Tom grinned and reached inside Stanley’s blanket to give his crotch a squeeze. “Now you’re talking, boss.”

  “Should we shower first? You know, wash off that lake water?”

  “How long do you figure that would take?”

  “I don’t know. Five minutes, maybe.”

  Tom considered that. “Nah, a little lake water never hurt anybody, did it? Anyway, I’m too horny.”

  Which he was. He dropped the blanket and Old Faithful was already at full attention. At the sight of it, Stanley’s was only a 234 Victor Banis

  couple of seconds behind. Blankets were convenient, he decided. Maybe they should make this their usual around the house attire.

  Tom half walked, half danced Stanley into the bedroom, kissing him long and hard as they went. Even Tom’s day old stubble felt sexy to Stanley, who could go days without really needing a shave. He rubbed his own nearly smooth cheek against Tom’s beard.

  Tom ran his fingers down Stanley’s back, and kneaded Stanley’s cheeks with his giant hands. He lowered Stanley gently to the bed, still kissing. To Stanley’s surprise, he reached down between them and took Stanley’s erection in his hand, gave it a squeeze.

  “You know, that’s a pretty big dick.”

  Stanley looked down at it. “I guess. It’s not as big as yours.”

  “The difference is, I haven’t had mine shoved up my ass.”

  He let go of Stanley’s dick, reached down between Stanley’s thighs.

  Uh oh. “Are you going to fuck me again?” Stanley asked from beneath him.

  Tom raised up a bit, looked down into his face, seemed to consider the possibilities. “That is one sweet little ass you’ve got on you, baby.”

  Again with the baby? “Oh, well, if you’re going to go all heartsand-flowers on me,” Stanley said, spreading his legs.

  Tom laughed and rose off of him, and rolled over onto his belly. “How about it’s your turn,” he said.

  “My turn?” It took a few seconds for that to register. “You mean, like, fucking you? In the butt?”

  “Unless you don’t want to.”

  “Well, sure, only, I thought you didn’t like it either.”

  “I didn’t say I do. If we’re going to do this shit, though, we’re going to have to get some things worked out, aren’t we? I can’t just jerk you off every time. How much fun could that be for you?”

  “It’s okay.”

  DEADLY WRONG 235

  “Right. Okay. Just not like the real stuff. And there’s things I can’t do. This, I can get used to it. I don’t mind doing it, for you. Things have to be fair. I can’t have all the fun. So, I figure, we’ll take turns. You fuck me and then you can blow me, and the next time, I’ll fuck you and…” the pause was only for a fraction of a second, “I’ll jerk you off.”

  Stanley considered that. “Hmm,” was all he said. Everything in its own season, right?

  “Look, if you’re not interested…” Tom moved as if he were going to turn over again.

  “Oh, I am, absolutely,” Stanley said, putting a hand on one marble cheek to hold him in place. “It’s just, you kind of surprised me.” Again. “Give me a minute.”

  Tom seemed okay with that. He relaxed, resting his head on his arms, spread his legs wide, his butt inviting. “Are you going to do that other thing?” he asked, not looking. “You know, with your tongue?”

  “Rimming?” Stanley felt his tongue get hard in his mouth.

  “You like it when I rim you?”

  “Sort of.” Tom’s voice was carefully non-committal. “You know, I think maybe, not tonight, but sometime, maybe I could do that for you. Before I fuck you, I mean.”

  “You’d rim me?”

  “I tried it, a couple of weeks ago.”

  Stanley sat back on his knees. “You’re telling me you rimmed some guy—?”

  “Not a guy. A chick. Just to see what it was like. But, to tell you the truth, her butt wasn’t half as cute as yours. So, yeah, maybe. I’ll try it, next time around. It makes it easier, doesn’t it?

  To get fucked, I mean. Kind of relaxes you.”

  “Yes. It does. Sure.”

  Tom rose up on his knees, his face buried in the pillow, his butt in the air, cheeks spread wide. “So? What do you think?”

  “I think you could use some relaxing.” Stanley scooted happily down between Tom’s legs. Tom spread them wider to give him more room.

  236 Victor Banis

  Stanley found himself thinking about the questions Tom had asked earlier, about spanking. He wondered… but, no, one thing at a time, he decided.

  Still… he gave one upraised cheek a tentative slap, not too hard, but not altogether gentle, either. Tom said nothing, didn’t move. His cheek turned red with the imprint of Stanley’s hand.

  § § § § §

  As spankings went, it was brief and none too violent. Stanley wasn’t sure what he thought of the experience, except that his hand was quickly sore. Tom made no comment on what he thought of it either, but he didn’t pull away, or complain, or suggest that Stanley stop.

  It did, however, seem to turn him on. Maybe, Stanley thought, all that blood rushing to the surface of his gluteal skin.

  Whatever it was, Tom was certainly hot. Stanley donned one of Tom’s condoms—lavender, who picked these colors, anyway?

  “Go slow,” Tom said, and then immediately shoved back hard against it, so that the entire lavender clad length slid into him. Which, Stanley thought, bode well for the future.

  § § § § §

  He was glad, though, that when it was his turn, Tom wanted head. Not that Stanley wasn’t willing to accommodate him the other way, too. Tom was right. If they were ever going to work this out between them, they’d have to get the mechanics settled.

  If Tom was willing, he’d have to be also. And, there was something to be said for giving your man pleasure, painful or not.

  He really was not, however, a bottom by nature, hadn’t done it that way in a great many years, and then no more than two or three experimental times. And Tom was big. Very big. He had found it hard to sit down for a while after the last time.

  § § § § §

  Later, fireworks over, Tom gathered Stanley into his arms, pulled him close, and stretched out on his back. They lay like that for a long time. Too long, it seemed to Stanley. This wasn’t DEADLY WRONG 237

  the way it usually played out between them, him and Mister Come and Go.

  “You get things worked out with the kid?” Tom asked.

  “Junior? Yeah. He’s going to stay with me for a while when he comes to town. Unless,” tempting fate, “you’d like him to stay at your place instead. I expect he’d like that.”

  “Probably he would, those looks he was giving me.” Tom ruffled Stanley’s hair. “To be honest, I think I’m going to be more a one man kind of guy.” He lifted his head. “And don’t you be poking him, either, while he’s at your place. You got yourself one butt. That’s enough.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “Yeah, I saw you feeling his backside when he was leaving.”

  “I didn’t exactly feel it. I just gave it a little pat.”

  “Butt pats can lead to butt fucks.” He was silent for a moment. “He does have a nice little set of buns on him, though, doesn’t he?”

  “Now, wait just a sec…”

  “Teasing, Stanley. Just teasing.” He ruffled Stanley’s hair again.

  They lay together without talking for a long while, breath slowing, deepening. Tom found himself savoring the moment in a way like nothing he had experienced before in his life: Stanley in his arms, lying quietly together. He didn’t know exactly what it was he felt just now; or, he knew, but didn’t know quite the words for it. Words were Stanley’s thing, and something that he especially admired Stanley for, but he himself had always shied away from words, suspicious of the telling. He had a vague sense that some things were too big for words, that putting them into words changed them, made them everyday, robbed them of their magic.

  But, here in the moment was the magic, pure, undiluted: drifting into sleep, holding this man, of all men, close against him. What words would have been enough to explain that, what he felt now?

  “Uh, Tom,” Stanley said after a bit, intruding on the near sleep, “what are we doing?”

  238 Victor Banis

  “What do you mean?” Tom’s voice thick.

  “I mean, you and me, lying here in bed like this, all curled up together.”

  “I was planning on going to sleep. Why? Weren’t you?”

  “Oh, sure. Only, you don’t usually stay and sleep with me afterward, is what I meant. Usually, you get up and go home.”

  “Did you want me to? Go home? Well, back to my motel?”

  “No. Not actually. I just…”

  “It’s pretty late. We’ll have to get up in a couple of hours.

  Anyway, I thought you’d like it, sleeping together for a change.

  Like we were, you know... like we were sort of getting attached.

  I can go, though, if you’d rather.”

  “No, don’t.” Stanley sighed. He would never, never understand this man.

  On the other hand, it was undeniably nice, lying with his head resting on Tom’s broad, hairy chest, Tom’s arm pinning Stanley tight against him, one of Stanley’s legs tossed across Tom’s.

  A thought occurred to Stanley. “Will you be able to sleep like this?”

  “I can sleep anytime,” Tom said, and after a long moment.

  “How about you? Can you sleep like this?”

  Not a wink, Stanley thought, and said aloud, “Like a log.”

  Tom grunted and gave him a little squeeze. “That’s cool, then,” he said.

  So, there Stanley was, happy in the warmth of Tom’s body, the rise and fall of his chest, that arm holding him close. And, after a long silence, Tom said, very, very softly, “Don’t ever leave me again, Stanley.”

  Stanley tried to think of something to say to that, but it had so completely caught him off guard that his brain was spinning in circles.

  But it was soon evident that Tom wasn’t waiting for an answer. Tom had that tendency, to speak his piece, usually in only a few words, and afterward to assume that was the end of it, nothing more to be said. So Stanley just lay, listening to DEADLY WRONG 239

  Tom’s breathing slow and deepen, until Tom began to snore softly, still holding Stanley in his arms.

  Don’t ever leave me…

  He didn’t mean it, of course, probably hadn’t even realized quite what it was he was saying. Tomorrow, he could very well be back to, ‘You’re a fag, and I’m straight, and this has to end, period, flat out, now, Goodbye Joe.’ “Colours seen by candlelight, will not look the same by day.”

  Don’t ever leave me…

  As if. Of course, it wasn’t exactly the same as saying, “I love you.” Still, maybe he was expecting too much of the man, too soon.

  His friend Chris ribbed him for looking at every date, every trick, as potential marriage material. But it wasn’t marriage, exactly, that Stanley wanted. It was that thing that happened with two people when they were together for a while, when they began to form something like a third personality between them: me, you, us. It had always seemed to him that until you did that, you weren’t really complete.