Date: Thu, 15 Nov 2012 05:20:27 -0500
From: Steve Snow <snow.steve22 (at) yahoo (dot) com>
Subject: Two Treatments

Now I'm sixty and Tom and I have been together nearly thirty years.  In the
beginning, the sex was good, of course.  Everybody has energy to burn when
they're thirty.  But along with all that sexual energy came the conflicts,
too.  The tension came out raw and that's what drove some of the passion -
each of us defending ourselves from the other.  Jostling for position.  Of
course we loved each other but we really didn't know what that meant then.
Now we understand what it means to love another person, for the good and
the bad times.  It takes some practice to work the kinks out of a love like
that.  We used to fight all the time about the most trivial stuff.  We
never fought about what really was at the root of our problems; we only
worked around the edges of it all.  Eventually we both got tired of the
conflict and we started to actually talk about our feelings honestly.  That
was really the beginning of the actual love affair.  You don't make love to
someone with your dick, it turns out.  It's your minds that make love.  The
rest is only pleasant window dressing.  Okay, VERY pleasant...  Once we got
over the quarreling stage, the sex got so much better... not that it was
bad before but it was so much deeper and more passionate without the
resentments in the way.  We could abandon ourselves in each others embrace.
God, I love this man!  Let me take you back to when we met...

I'll insist all day that I'm not a mall rat.  I hardly ever spend time in
the mall.  Malls are for the really young.  Of course, sometimes you need
something and you suck it up and go there anyway.  This was one of those
times.  I need something at Sears today and as soon as I have it in my hand
and paid for, I'm going to escape back to the real world outside.  I don't
want to linger - all business.  That's my plan.  Quick in and quick out.
Of course, nothing goes according to plan.  Ever.

I'm charging head-down towards the tool section with little on my mind but
the job at hand.  I round the corner of a display case and there he is
standing in my way.  I really didn't see him but just sensed his presence.
I nearly ran into him headlong but I've always been pretty agile since my
teens and I used my best dancer's moves to avoid him though I did brush
against his shoulder in the process.  I look up to apologize to him
muttering some pleasantries as my eyes focus on him and then I stop dead in
my tracks.  He is standing there with that goofy grin on his face and a
mesmerized look in his eyes.  I never expected to see that kind of reaction
so I was stumped, too.  We stare at each other for a good ten seconds.

I finally say: "Gee, I'm sorry.  I almost got you there.  Are you OK?"

He says: "I'll recover just fine eventually but to avoid a lawsuit, you
really should sit down with me and discuss all the options.  I hate to sue
when an out-of-court settlement is still possible."

I start wondering: what is he possibly thinking?  He's still looking at me
with that grin, so I don't take him particularly seriously.  I ramp up my
mock-lawyer mode and start the negotiation: "Do you have a venue in mind?
District Court, Superior Court or Luigi's in the mall?"

He chuckles and says "I think Luigi's is fine - they cater some of the best
out-of-court settlements ever.  Your treat, of course."

"Of course.  I could do no less for my injured colleague..."  I shake his
hand and we walk out into the mall and soon we are at Luigi's.  It is early
for lunch - only 11:30 so there is no line.

Once we are seated at a table, the introductions begin: He says: "Allow me
to introduce myself... Thomas Peter Merkel Esquire at your service!"

And I say: "Adam Brian Clark here.  I presume you're an actual lawyer from
the way you introduce yourself."

"I am.  And you aren't?"

"No, I just play one at the mall."

"Well, fancy that, you bumping into me.  You know it'll cost you big.  For
starters, you can take credit for the cost of my meal."

"I'll stipulate that..."

"And I have one additional request: I'd like to stay over with you tonight
and avail myself of your hospitality.  That would be a satisfactory
settlement."

"I'll stipulate that as well..."

I can see now what he has in mind.  I didn't even think that he is angling
for an invitation.  Boy am I thick-headed.  He must have figured me out
pretty quickly within the first few seconds when we met.  I'm not even
thinking about that... just playing along.  Now I get to contemplate what
tonight will be like.  He's not hard to look at and I'm sure I won't be
kicking him out of bed but I have to think 'What does he see in me...'
I've never considered myself to be much in the looks department.  I guess
you'd say I'm pretty average in most ways but I have a tendency to be
somewhat overweight.  I struggle constantly to maintain a look that's just
borderline attractive.  Sometimes I just say 'fuck it' and gain a few
pounds without even thinking but then I see the pounds on me in the mirror
and the push is on to lose it again.  I guess that's what they call the
yo-yo syndrome.  I never get to the point that I think of myself as hot.
Today I'm just going into the 'I need to lose a few pounds here' mentality
and I'm sitting in an Italian restaurant with him!  It's gonna be
interesting.  He snaps me out of my thoughts by saying:

"So, Adam, are we gonna order or just daydream all afternoon?"

His smile was stunning.  "I could choose either but I am hungry..."

He busies himself with his menu and I do the same.  I've chosen a nice
salad and an appetizer when he says "How about ravioli all around -- that
sounds good, doesn't it?"

Geez - this is going to be harder than I thought... but he is my guest, so
what the hell!  "Sure.  That sounds fine."

"And maybe a glass of the house Chianti for each of us?"

"I don't think you'll want me to have any wine.  You go ahead though.  It's
a long story but please have some yourself and I'll explain."

"Intriguing.  I'll place the order then and you can tell me that long story
of yours..."

He nods his head to the waiter who is watching and he comes and takes the
order.  Two plates of ravioli and a single glass of wine.  The waiter moves
off to the kitchen and Tom says "OK, now, let me guess... you're a lush
with a couple of DWI's under your belt?"

"No.  Nothing so simple as that.  The short version is that if I have wine
now - even one glass, and the evening goes as anticipated, I'll end up with
a mega-hangover and you'll be forced to be my nurse for hours instead of my
fuckbuddy."

"Whoa!  You'll need to explain that further.  I haven't played doctor since
my teens.  Tell me more."

"Well, since I was a child, medicines of many kinds don't work for me like
they do for most people.  Antihistamines and seasick pills and similar
medications knock me for a loop and have all kinds of outrageous side
effects for me and though my pediatrician and later the family doctor
worked through that stuff with me and the pharmacist, it wasn't until I was
able to drink that I discovered one last peculiarity.  I can drink just
like everybody with one exception.  I'd had two beers and was sitting alone
at home watching TV and settled on some story that got me kinda aroused, I
was alone in the house and shut the TV off and went to my bedroom to jack
off. Everything worked as expected and after I came, I got that usual lazy
afterglow where you just don't want to do anything except maybe turn over
and take a snooze.  But that feeling didn't last long.  Suddenly I was
awash in pain, dizziness and nausea and I thought I was going to puke
repeatedly.  The feeling got so strong I couldn't even try to move.  I just
rode that feeling out for hours.  Just when I thought it was calming down
it would come rushing back again.  I was there so long that I pissed all
over myself and my bed eventually and didn't care.  The only thing on my
mind was that someone would come home and discover me stark naked in my bed
paralyzed.  Eventually, though, the symptoms did subside and I was able to
get out of bed five hours later.  Another hour and I was steady enough to
go take a shower.  It was one hell of a ride.  So, I'll decline that offer
of wine with dinner.  I hope you don't mind?"

"Hell, no, I don't mind!  I want to experience you at your best, not like
that.  I'd never wish any pain on you.  Did you ever have it happen again?"

"Yes, once.  I was young and stupid and didn't believe it the first time, I
guess.  I approached it more cautiously the second time and only had less
than half a can of beer then.  The symptoms were the same but they started
to clear in 90 minutes.  Still it was agony.  Since then, sex and alcohol
for me don't mix."

"I can see that.  Gee that's scary.  No other secrets are there?  You don't
glow in the dark or anything, do you?"

"No.  Otherwise, I'm kind of conventional."

"Cool.  Thanks for sharing that with me.  I think I'll lay off the wine
myself just to be fair."

"Thanks.  I'm really looking forward to being with you.  You fascinate me
in some way I can't quite figure out yet.  I'm so glad you insisted.  I
don't mind this out-of-court settlement at all."

"I'm sure it's going to be my pleasure."

"Well, our lunch is here.  Let's eat!"

After a while munching quietly the conversation turned this way: "So,
Thomas Peter Merkel Esquire, I imagine your name must have been the fodder
for a lot of ribbing in school."

"Yep.  You wouldn't believe.  To start out with, the unfortunate initials
T.P. got me some attention.  A bunch of guys got together and started
hoarding short rolls of toilet tissue from the bathrooms and when they had
enough they all surrounded me and threw toilet paper over me from every
angle.  Fun times!  They also had some fun with Merkel sounds like
miracle."

Tom also regaled me during lunch about his sexploits - "I guess I was quite
the little whore in High School... I'd show it to anyone who wanted a
look. - It became quite an object of veneration but I couldn't figure why.
Almost anyone with a dick and a pulse and his eyes on my crotch would get a
squirt out of me with almost no effort...  I must have gotten blow jobs
from half the males in my class by the time we graduated...  I suppose I
should have been made honorary Prom Queen!  Anybody would do - I didn't
discriminate. Fat or thin, cute or not.  Even any race; I didn't care.  A
few of them were subject to Squirtus Interruptus when we thought we'd be
discovered... I'd go away with a case of temporary Blue Balls.  Some girls
wanted to reform me and I let them try.  No dice."

We finished our meal and left together after deciding that our time
together was too important to worry about mere work obligations.  I was off
anyway today and he simply made a phone call and cleared the rest of his
day too.  It was Friday and we were both anticipating a nice, long weekend
together.  We drove in tandem to my apartment where we settled in.

Predictably, Tom's and my first act was to get undressed.  While we were
doing that, I confessed that I was a little sensitive about removing my tee
shirt.  I told Tom I didn't mind being naked from the waist down but that I
had more of a problem with my upper body.  Tom started feeling me up on top
and he made it clear I didn't have anything to hide from him.  This made me
relax and I peeled off my tee shirt and Tom explained that though he could
see what I was thinking, he preferred a guy with a little bit of a belly on
him.  He explained that he liked, on occasion, to sleep with his head on a
guy's stomach and that the few extra pounds there made it more comfortable.
Plus, he was in the perfect position to take advantage of all that morning
wood that was otherwise wasted.  I could see Tom would be some fun to be
around.

Looking back on that first time we were together, Tom and I spent most of
that time simply talking.  Yes, of course there was sex, but it wasn't the
main course, surprisingly, but it was rather the intermission; not the
substance of our time together but rather the spice.  I would have thought
we would spend a sweaty couple of hours humping each other's brains out and
leave exhausted and satisfied but that wasn't the experience at all.  We
really came to know each other as friends (albeit naked friends...) and did
satisfy our mutual curiosity about how we would interact sexually as well.
There was no seriousness here, only giddy mutual exploration.  It was some
of the most satisfying but also the oddest intercourse I have experienced.

I've never had a really long-term relationship before but rather a series
of experiences I call "Appointment Sex" where we two would meet predictably
and get it on (also predictably) to release the tension and boredom.  None
of it was romantic and nobody had any secondary intentions.  It was like
going to a particularly permissive gym from my porno dreams where the
push-ups (or squats) had an additional purpose...

My time with Tom was nothing like that.  I could really see that we were
laying down a foundation for a future together.  It was so clear in both
our minds.  I think we were surprised that we were ready for this at the
same time.  It became obvious that Tom and I had started to crave something
more from life than we had before; a purpose, a meaning.  We both
recognized that we needed to put our efforts into something outside of
ourselves.  We talked endlessly about anything that came into our heads but
the overwhelming theme the two of us kept coming back to was "we".  "We"
were becoming a couple in my bed over that long weekend.  Towards the end
of our time together he suggested I gather up the clothes and supplies I
would need for Monday and we'd spend Sunday night at his place and be
prepared for the morning.  I eagerly agreed that this was a good idea.  I
flew around while Tom watched me and laughed at my antics gathering up the
needed items and trying to clean up our messes from the weekend (we weren't
in a clean-up mood but just left dishes in the sink and trash strewn about
while we spent time in bed...)  Soon I was ready and we went over to Tom's
place in his car.  He suggested he'd deal with transportation for a while
and pick me up at work when I was done so no need to bring two cars today.
When we arrived at his place I was amazed to find that Tom had a really
nice home in a good neighborhood and had kept it up immaculately.  Though
we didn't talk much about our hobbies the past two days, I could see Tom's
passion was his house and yard.  That resonated with me so strongly for a
long-time apartment dweller and I appreciated Tom even more because of it.

                          . . . .

At one point Tom met and befriended Scott who Tom recognized was lonely and
hurting and he instantly made it his mission to heal Scott's soul.  Tom
went about this the way he did everything else and soon Scott was a
constant presence in our home.  It was clear that Tom would go to any
lengths to help Scott and after consulting me, he took Scott to our bed and
started to make love to him.  I gave my consent and didn't have a moment's
worry or jealousy about it.  I had grown quite fond of Scott myself over
the weeks since we had been introduced and I was sure Tom knew what he was
doing.  It wasn't but a couple of days later that he asked me to join them
and I said to myself 'let the healing begin..."  I became an instant
co-conspirator in Scott's redemption and loved every minute of it.  Some of
the time we, of course, made love to Scott directly.  As much of the time
we had Scott be an intimate witness to Tom's and my lovemaking and hoped by
that example he would feel and emulate the passion we expressed for each
other.  Scott's transformation was as complete as it was gradual.  Under
Tom's tutelage, soon Scott was a much more open, mature and loving man than
he started out and he began to dream of having a love relationship of his
own.  Tom became the cheerleader and sounding-board for Scott in his quest
for a lover and gradually he was a guest in our bed less and less as he
came into his own presence and went about finding the love of his life.
Finally came the day when he introduced us to the guy he had declared as
'the one'; Jonathan.  We were thrilled and recognized that this new man in
Scott's life was a great choice and we, too, fell in love with him just as
Scott had.  They set up housekeeping and though they continued to visit us,
they necessarily concentrated on each other.  Tom never again felt the need
to get involved with any other lonely hearts and we returned to our
previous monogamous relationship.

                          . . . .

Our circle of friends has grown steadily over time and we've been
constantly amazed at how rabidly loyal our friends are to us.  Neither of
us particularly understand the attraction but we are grateful for their
love and support through all the years.  Birthdays and holidays seem to be
their favorite time for ever-more-outrageous surprise parties and at the
heart of it all seem to be the ringleaders: Scott and Jon.  They made it
their purpose to collect the names and phone numbers of all our friends
even from the time before we met Scott.  They never fail to amaze us with
their innovative ways to trap us into a party and then humble us with their
loving attention.  I suppose when the two of us become too grumpy and
curmudgeonly to enjoy these get-togethers, it will be time for Scott and
Jon to take our place as the focus of our friends' activities.  It's only
natural.

                         . . . .

For the last couple of years, we've taken to watching "The Old Guys" on PBS
together.  It's an odd show about two older men thrown together by
circumstance.  One guy is pretty average and just wants to have a "normal"
life while the other guy kind of bounces off the wall with absurd thoughts
and actions pretty much defeating any chance the first guy has of
tranquility.  There's a gay subtext in the show that strikes Tom and I as
interesting and sometimes it prods us to yell out at the screen "go ahead
and kiss him - you know you want to...".  At other times one or the other
of us will be watching the show and something will strike us funny and
we'll start giggling quietly and the other will look over and wonder what
the hell set the other one off but eventually we're both a quivering mass
all knees and elbows and holding onto each other so we don't fall to the
floor.

                          . . . .

I woke up this morning thinking today's the day Tom and I will finally
split up.  It's been coming for a while and there isn't much point in
denying it.  It's not like either of us has any say in it anyway.  It's all
in God's hands now.  Tom is as rested as he can be while I'm a barely
concealed mess.  Last night Tom wasn't able to sleep with his head on my
belly like he wanted to - he had to stay upright so that his breathing was
unobstructed but he kept his hands down there all night with his fingers
tucked under the waistband of my pajamas.  Occasionally his hand would
stray and give my dick a loving caress or a yank.  I was hoping selfishly
he might not wake up this morning at all and his struggle would be done but
he did wake beside me and give me a faint smile when he did.  I smiled back
and reached down and though I avoided what would have been my primary
target because Tom had a Foley catheter in place and I didn't want to
dislodge it, I did caress his balls lovingly which he acknowledged with a
sigh.

You would think it would take an Act of Congress to allow us to sleep
together here in the hospice but things have changed so much in the last
decade or so with people's attitudes toward gay couples.  It almost seems
that we've been accepted completely, especially under these circumstances.
The older nurses from our generation still look a little shocked when we
show any affection but it's a young person's game today and the younger
nurses and other workers are somewhat in the lead as far as attitudes are
concerned and the older ones fall into lock-step although it's not familiar
territory for them.  With the coming of morning, all hope that we will have
any privacy is gone and I finally rouse myself to kiss Tom and acknowledge
the morning.

Only an hour ago I was lying awake, contemplating the long road we've taken
to get to this point...

It all started when I was making love to Tom one morning and I was fucking
him face-to-face with my hands on either side of his pelvis and his legs
over my shoulders when I pressed my thumbs into his abdomen as I would do
sometimes and was surprised to see him wince in pain.  Now, I know that I'm
not well-hung enough to cause him pain with my dick any more after all
these years so it had to be something else causing him pain.  I stopped my
thrusting and asked him point-blank: "What is that all about?"

He told me: "Just a little sore is all."

I said "Where?" and he pointed to his mid-section.  Now understand that Tom
is somebody that believes in playing through the pain and is a bit of a
weenie when it comes to doctors but I decided this wasn't anything he
should ignore.  I told him to get showered and dressed and we would go
straight to his doctor to see what was the matter.  I hovered near while he
showered and we dressed side-by-side and once we did I called the doctor's
office and let them know we were coming by for an unexpected exam.  It's
fortunate that his doctor is also my doctor and he knew by my tone of voice
that I wasn't just being overly cautious.  Once we arrived at the office,
they were ready for us and they took Tom in immediately.  Only a few
seconds and a little gentle poking and prodding later, he declared that
Tom's liver was inflamed and he called over to the imaging department of
the local hospital and set up an appointment for an MRI as soon as we could
get there.  He took some blood samples from both Tom and I and told us he
would try to rush the results.  Once Tom had endured his MRI and the
results were called back to our doctor, he called me on my cell and asked
that I take Tom over to a specialist where he had called in a couple of
obligations to get him to see us right away.  We rushed over there and were
introduced to Tom's new Hepatologist.

After a little more poking and prodding and an ultrasound, and in
consultation with our Primary Care doctor and the records from the MRI scan
he informed us that Tom had a nasty case of Hepatitis-C infection that had
caused some significant damage to his liver.  He assured us that he would
be starting a course of medication to minimize future damage and suppress
the infection as far as was possible.  He also informed me that I was also
positive for Hepatitis-C and told me he would check me out as soon as he
was through with Tom.  After all the examinations were through he sat with
us to discuss the results.  Tom had cirrhosis of his liver and his viral
load was "off the charts" as he put it.  My situation was more reassuring
and though I was showing no immediate signs of damage, both of us would be
on different series of medications tailored to each one's situation.  Tom's
medication was planned to be an all-out attack on the virus to prevent
further damage and mine would be to suppress the virus to prevent any
damage it could cause in the future.  We discussed Tom's options including
the possibility of a liver transplant once he was stabilized and assessed
for one.  I immediately volunteered to act as his donor which was accepted
but I was told that I was likely not compatible with his needs but that
tests would need to be done and that the most likely match might come from
a blood relative while the next option was a random lucky match with an
organ donor.  After all the talking was done and our next appointment was
made, it was time for us to return home after a stop at our local
pharmacist.  On the ride home I was thinking about all that had gone on
today when it hit me: I need to call Scott and insist he and his lover go
for Hepatitis-C tests.  I voiced this to Tom (who was uncharacteristically
quiet on the ride home) and he agreed that was what I should do ASAP.  When
we got home, I went straight to the phone and Scott's number is on the
speed dial.  Of course by now it was the middle of the work day and he
wasn't home.  I must have left a strange sounding message.

Four hours later, Tom and I are still sitting around the living room
decompressing and discussing the events of the day and deciding how to tell
family and friends about our diagnoses.  Tom has decided he will lean on
his sister as he has often done in the past and ask her to take care of the
notifications in his family.  I offered to handle my family and our friends
myself.  With my diagnosis, time is not an enemy so I've decided to do my
family notifications last and for tonight to concentrate on Tom's and my
mutual friends.  Before I can even get the address book out, the phone
rings - it's Scott who was unnerved to hear my phone message and felt he
needed to call back right away.  I was probably a bit melodramatic when I
called him - the news was fresh in my mind and though I'm not easily
prompted to be excitable, this news really hit me hard.  I took a deep
breath and tried to explain things more calmly and by the time we hung up I
had Scott's pledge that the two of them would go and get tested the next
day.  I felt a lot better after that.

                          . . . .

While we were making love today, Tom delivered a slap on my cheek.  It
wasn't a blow, exactly, but it did sting.  It made me stop and take notice.
I said "What was that for?"

"I think you know why.  You've been building up a rage in you for a while
now - I can even feel it when we fuck.  We need to talk about it now before
you let it get any worse."

"I guess you're right.  It's just so unfair that you've had this thing drop
on top of you.  You shouldn't have gotten this."

"If I was feeling selfish, I probably would agree with you.  But I'm the
one who's sick - if anybody should be consumed with rage, it should be me!"

"But I'm worried too that you got it from me..."

"First, that's unlikely but even if that was so (and I don't think it is)
there's nothing to be gained by lashing out against the world or me or
yourself and twisting your guts in a knot about this.  We'll never know
where it came from.  Why torture yourself?"

"I'm also angry at God for letting this happen."

"I can't for the life of me remember fucking some white-haired daddy bear
with a choir of angels any time.  God didn't give this to me...  And as far
as Christ goes, I don't remember him being there either, though sometimes
I'd swear I have visions... Hey Jesus, if you're horny some day you can
come on down and kick Kris Kristofferson back down the line and give me a
toss..."

"Stop that - that's blasphemy!"

"And so is your attitude - don't waste the time we have here on Earth with
your mind filled with hate.  We're supposed to be loving each other, and I
need that love more than ever right now."

"I think the hardest thing will be to forgive myself if I did this to you."

"So you want to throw yourself under the bus now, do you?  You know I'd be
standing right there to drag you back out of the street and then I'd kick
your ass and slap your face - again - to tell you how stupidly you were
behaving.  Then I'd kiss you full on the mouth to show you how much I love
you.  Then I'd probably suck your dick right there in front of God and all
those witnesses because I just couldn't help myself!"

"Well, when you put it that way..."

"Adam, don't ever let your anger get bottled up again like it is now.
You've been fucking me like you want to fuck the world and my poor ass
can't take much more of it.  Share with me - trust me.  Don't shut me out.
It's not healthy for you; it's not healthy for me."

"Please forgive me - I didn't know."

"You are forgiven and always loved.  Now, take a deep breath and get back
to work, slave!"

"Yes, Master..."

                         . . . .

As Tom's disease progressed, it became clear that long-term he would need
to undergo a liver transplant.  He was experiencing some moderate symptoms
of liver failure and although the initial therapy to knock out the virus
had worked well in the beginning, the damage to Tom's liver was pretty
severe and the handwriting was on the wall.  His evaluation as a transplant
candidate went well and although I never really understood all the criteria
and the protocol, it looked as if he would be a good candidate.  The
problem is there are so many people on waiting lists for deceased donor
liver transplants and many of them are on death's door themselves.  The
liver is unforgiving and without its function, you will die fairly soon.
Tom's best chance for a transplant would be from a relative or close friend
who would volunteer to give around half of their liver to Tom.  Of course I
volunteered but my tests came up incompatible with Tom's needs - my blood
type was different than that needed.  The word was passed to Tom's family
and friends hoping to locate a compatible volunteer.  This was where our
circle of friends and their loyalty to us became so important.  Almost
everyone among them who we asked about volunteering went right down to get
tested.  Also Tom's sister volunteered as well.  After all the tests were
completed and the evaluations finished, Tom's sister Maggie became the
clear choice.  That match combined with her good overall health seemed to
indicate the best chance of success.  Of course our friends were
disappointed but they all were rallying around Tom and were happy he had
found a match.

Now began the waiting game - trying to coordinate the dual operations and
the efforts to improve Tom's medical condition so that he would be in the
best possible shape to survive the operation and give his new liver a good
chance to thrive.  Soon, though, the day was upon us.  Both Tom and Maggie
were prepped for surgery the night before.  They visited for a while that
night in the hospital and Tom was able to express his gratitude properly to
Maggie who was so gracious about her donation.  Seeing them together under
these conditions was an experience I wouldn't have missed.  They were so
alike in a great number of ways but it was clear Maggie wouldn't ever put
up with any of Tom's lovable foolishness and in some ways acted like a nun
(Sister Mary Roadblock) with a ruler in-hand to bring a little discipline
to the wild feral child Tom could become at times.  The interaction between
them was priceless and I can imagine what it might have been like to grow
up in that household!

In the morning the huge number of surgeons and other participants needed
and the two operating rooms required were available.  There was always the
chance that some emergency might take precedence at the last minute but we
needn't have worried.  Maggie's donor surgery lasted about five hours after
which, following her time in the recovery room, she was admitted to
Intensive Care.  Tom's surgery was expected to last perhaps ten hours which
were the longest hours ever in my life...  Our friends were cycling
in-and-out of the waiting room to sit with me like some huge tag team.
They did their best to keep my mood light and keep me focused on something
other than my worries with limited success.  Finally, though, Tom's surgery
was over and his Hepatologist who was one of the surgeons on the team came
into the waiting room to talk with me.  It turns out that Tom's transplant
was a textbook case with all the right parts in all the right places and he
was in pretty good condition immediately after the operation.  Tom was in
recovery two or three hours and soon he was admitted to the ICU as well.
It was clear that neither Tom nor Maggie would be having any visitors for a
while so I took the opportunity to go home and take some time to sleep.
Scott insisted that he would stay with me and we retired to bed.  I was
really missing Tom intensely and it was comforting to have Scott hold me
close for that time before I fell asleep.  I had set my alarm to wake me
after four hours and seemingly only a few minutes after I laid down I was
awakened by the alarm.  We showered and got dressed and drove back to the
hospital parking lot where Scott kissed me and took off for home.

I proceeded to the ICU waiting room and registered that I was waiting to
see either Tom or Maggie.  Maggie was available for visitors so I stopped
in to see her.  She was still a little groggy due to the effects of her
pain relief but she was able to recognize me and hold a brief conversation.
She, of course, wanted to know how Tom was and I repeated to her what I had
heard after the surgery and told her he couldn't have visitors yet but that
I would shuttle back-and-forth between the two of them keeping each
informed about the others' progress.  I told her how grateful I was that
she had volunteered as Tom's donor and that she had given Tom a second
chance at life.  She waved off the praise and said it was what Tom would
have done were their places reversed and I agreed.  Still, I left her
teary-eyed when the time for our visit was done.  Now I waited until I
could see Tom.

Hours later, I was told I could have a short visit with Tom and going in to
see him I was a little shocked at how he was connected to so much
monitoring equipment and so many IV bottles and bags.  Tom was barely awake
but seemed to recognize me and acknowledged me with a look and opening and
closing his eyes deliberately.  He wasn't able to speak after having been
on breathing apparatus during and for a while after the operation.  It
would be a few more hours before he would be able to squeak out any
replies.  I kept him updated on Maggie and what I had heard about his
condition and told him I had been home for a few hours of sleep.  He nodded
as if he approved.  I told him I would be in when I was allowed and I held
his free hand in my gloved one and gave it a kiss of sorts through my mask.
He acknowledged me again with a look and a blink and I took off to wait
again.  I was a bit relieved to note that I thought I saw a slight
lessening of Tom's jaundiced color in comparison to before he went into
surgery the morning before.

For a number of days, Tom was in the ICU and each time I saw him he was
stronger still.  I kept Maggie updated on his progress several times a day
and we soon were like old friends.  Maggie was moved to a room quickly but
Tom stayed in ICU longer - he did need more close observation and Maggie
would let me drop off to sleep an hour at a time while visiting her without
being offended since she knew the toll it was taking on me.  Tom was
beginning to be able to hold actual conversations now but he was still
hoarse from the throat tube.  He was beginning to bring up some phlegm
which was a natural result of the tube but this was still a problem because
of all his incisions - outside and in.  Not what you want to do with a sore
throat and stitches everywhere was to cough much.  He did get through that
trial, though, and was looking brighter than I had seen him in weeks.  His
color was also markedly improving with a semi-normal complexion and only a
little yellow around the edges and in his eyes still.  I did have some
private minutes with Tom's Hepatologist who would see Tom on his rounds in
the mornings.  He told me Tom's recovery was on-track but that, as we had
discussed before the operation, the precise balance of anti-viral
medications to suppress the virus still in Tom's system and the
anti-rejection drugs to prevent Tom's body from destroying his new liver
because it wasn't precisely his own was a difficult balancing act that
would go on for a long while - even after Tom was out of the hospital.  He
said it can be hit-or-miss to achieve the right mix and it was different
for every patient due to their individual immune systems.  They were
monitoring Tom's responses to the medications quite often and adjusting the
dosages to suit.

Soon came the day that Tom moved to a private room and Maggie and I were so
pleased.  Of course, just as in the ICU, we needed to wear protective gear
to prevent giving Tom any outside infections.  He wouldn't be able to fight
off infection very well just now and a cold or the flu could be fatal.
Maggie and I both would visit often and go through the elaborate dressing
procedure to enter Tom's room and we looked like oddly plumed birds
strutting back-and-forth in Tom's room when we visited.  Tom was getting
talkative and wanted to know what was happening in the outside world - he
wasn't able yet to concentrate on the TV much and if it was on, it was just
mostly background noise so far.  We would deliver the news to him in little
bursts so he could absorb it better.  He was constantly asking after our
friends and I let him know that they would be visiting him soon once he
could deal with the greater demands more visitors would make on his immune
system and his patience.  I relayed all their good wishes and some of the
day-to-day activities outside the confines of his room.  I also passed on
messages from his colleagues at his law firm and their best wishes.

Tom progressed slowly and was released from the hospital finally.  In our
follow-up visits with his Hepatologist he would be cautiously optimistic
while reminding us that the Hep-C was still around in Tom's body and was
only being suppressed and could return.  This didn't fill us with
confidence but we hoped he was being pessimistic so we would be realistic
in return.

Tom and I went about reclaiming our life while he gained strength.  Soon he
felt he could resume his job.  He started part-time, of course and was soon
back in the swing of things at work.  I also returned to work and was able
to match my hours to Tom's since my boss was so sympathetic to our
situation and he knew I'd quit outright if we couldn't work this out.

                          . . . .

Eight months have passed since Tom's transplant.  The day came, however,
when we recognized that something was wrong - Tom was waking up more slowly
and started to be unable to get out of bed willingly.  We needed to have
yet another visit with Tom's Hepatologist.  He delivered the news we both
were least ready to hear: Despite the treatments, the Hep-C infection still
in Tom's body was starting to attack Tom's new liver.  He would adjust the
dosage of Tom's anti-viral meds yet again but he didn't think he could
entirely prevent the damage the virus would cause.  Tom and I left the
doctors' office devastated.  When we arrived home, all we could do for a
couple of hours was hold each other.  Finally I needed to call Maggie and
let her know.  She took care of all the rest and told me "You just take
care of Tom."  Next day, she came by with a brave face on and threatened to
kick Tom's ass if he didn't fight this thing with all he was worth.  Tom
was feeling better and smiled for the first time in days after she left.

                          . . . .

Remember when I said to you that "today's the day Tom and I will finally
split up."  Boy, was I full of shit!  I had no idea what was to come and
Tom and I had many days together following that.  Tom is fighting on
bravely and we have gone on to have good times together in the tiny world
of his (nay our) hospice room and occasionally, when he feels well enough,
we walk into the common areas including their solarium.  He will tire
easily and some days are too stressful to do much but just be together.
Things have, of course, changed and Tom is looking more haggard with every
day.  I've had a chance to speak with the nurses while Tom snoozes and I
have a better handle now on how this disease progresses.  The yellow skin
coloration he showed a few weeks ago has mellowed into an overall gray
pallor.  His eyes are still yellow, though, and I have to catch myself to
stop my natural tendency to tear up when he gives me his sad "cow eyes" at
times.  (He does know how to push my sympathy button though thankfully, he
doesn't do it often.)

The other thing I especially wasn't prepared for was the assortment of
organic and other-worldly smells that seem to take me by surprise but
shouldn't by now.  Of course, I'm Tom's immediate right-hand man when he
wants to use the bathroom and ordinary bathroom smells and duties have
become second-nature.  But because your liver is so intimately associated
with digestion and when it's not functioning properly or when it's
on-strike, the whole catalog of odors that are produced during toilet time
can be amazing and horrifying all at the same time.  Tom constantly
apologizes to me for needing to lean on me and making me his full-time
audience for these moments, but I do it willingly so I can have more
precious minutes with him.  When I need a break, of course the nurses will
pinch-hit for me but it is my only job now.  The other odor that I can't
escape is the constant presence of ammonia in and around Tom.  With his
liver failure, one of the side effects is ammonia in his breath and
sometimes it even seems to escape from his skin.  To a degree, I'm used to
it but when I walk outside and get a breath of fresh air, when I return to
his room it assaults me even more noticeably.  I can imagine if it's
difficult for me how much it must be torture for Tom.  His nose is
constantly running and his eyes water as well.  Sometimes when he wakes up
in the night, his mucous membranes are so inflamed from the constant
barrage of the ammonia that he cries on my shoulder about it.  A quick wipe
of his face with a cool, moist face cloth seems to do wonders for his
disposition at those times, though.

Maggie visits two or three times a week and we have a good time when we do
get together.  Tom brightens visibly when she is around.  Partly it is his
response trying to put his best face on for her but it is just as much that
he really enjoys her company.  Watching them interact under these
circumstances is precious to me and I wouldn't miss it.  Sometimes in our
private moments she will regret that the transplant wasn't the complete
solution to Tom's health issues she prayed it would be but she still knows
it was a risky gamble from the beginning and also that it did give Tom
nearly a year more of life and for that the three of us are very grateful.

Living in a hospice seems to focus one's thoughts about what is most
important - particularly about the issues of life and death.  Tom and I
have had long discussions about these subjects and most particularly, Tom
has put some deep thought into the planning for his funeral and burial.  I
respect Tom's wishes and will be the one to carry them out so I have helped
Tom to clarify the decisions he has made so that I can follow them
carefully when he's no longer available to ask.

I've been keeping a private list of everybody who wants to be present at
the end and if I keep to the list strictly, we'll need to move Tom's bed
into the solarium and kick out anybody else who's there.  Of course that's
not possible but all his friends and some of his co-workers have come to me
and asked if they could be there.  I haven't bothered Tom about this though
I have been noting his comments about each person while they troupe in to
see him lately (the visits have been increasing as word gets around about
his condition...)  I make notations about the time they spend with Tom and
how his mood is afterwards.  I need to use all this information along with
what I know about each person to prepare a list of core people to call when
the time does come to gather.  We have been aware of a few of these times
over the period we've lived in the hospice and I have attended a few of the
vigils for people I have been friendly with and for those who I knew had no
regular visitors.  The nurses are aware of my interest and will stop by and
signal me quietly if they think I should attend.  I will only go if Tom is
sleeping and is expected to sleep for a while.  I have also talked with the
nurses privately about how their duties require access at those times and
discovered that as long as a single nurse can make her way to and around
the patient, that no other limits are necessary.  I figure we can
accommodate a half-dozen folks in Tom's room comfortably and so I am
planning the list with that in mind.

I'm interested in the reasons people express the need to be present at the
time somebody passes away.  I have no solid certainty about each person's
reasons since I would never presume to ask them but I can make some
educated guesses depending on how well I know the person: One reason is
ego: they figure they're indispensable at a critical time like that.
That's an automatic disqualification.  Another reason is curiosity: they've
never been at a gathering like this and they wonder what it is like.  These
folks are way at the bottom of the list.  Everyone else has a more personal
reason: care for the person who is dying (friends); love of the person who
is dying (former lovers, Scott, Maggie and me); the hope that they can be
of service to the person who is dying (include ministers and priests in
this category); Then there are the odd-persons-out: People who want to be
of service to somebody else there (include Scott's lover Jon in this
category, I suppose).  I was pondering these categories when I thought
about this: who will stand by me when the time comes?  I'd like to include
somebody who's sole interest is my welfare but that is a selfish impulse
and I push it aside and hope that Scott will support me if I need it when
the the moment arrives.  The bald truth of it is that after thirty years
together, I don't think there is anybody we know whose loyalties aren't
somewhat divided anyway.  I love this guy; they all love this guy, so why
be surprised.  Tom has that effect on people.  It will probably be his
epitaph.

                         ....

As is my habit I retire to bed when Tom seems too tired to stay awake any
longer.  Evenings are always the toughest to gauge since I don't want to
tire Tom unnecessarily but sometimes he complains if I shuffle him off to
bed too early...  Now, once his eyes drift closed a couple of times I take
that as my cue to get him ready for bed.  That generally means a last trip
to the bathroom and then just relieving him of his robe, transferring his
urine bag to the bedside and helping him into bed.  There was a time a
month or more ago that Tom wouldn't think of wandering around the hospice
dressed the way he is today; he'd insist on getting dressed in street
clothes during the day but as his energy has ebbed, so have the niceties.
It is just so stressful to have him dress these days that eventually
johnnie and robe have become his uniform, even when visitors are expected.
I don't see his guests or the neighbors worrying about it so neither does
he.  Once he is in bed I shut off the overhead room lights and climb in
after him.  We exchange our customary loving good-nights and I proceed to
gently rub his face and head to relieve his tension and help him to sleep.
Soon, I'll drift off beside him while listening to his now-familiar labored
breathing.

The sun is just appearing in the room and I awaken feeling the pressure in
my bladder and smelling the unmistakable odor of shit in the room.  Tom has
lost control of his bowels again as he has been doing off-and-on for a few
weeks now.  It's no biggie to me and it lets me show him how gently I can
clean him up and although he apologizes profusely each time, I tell him
it's my job and I love him so much that I don't even think about it any
more.  Of course that's only a half truth.  It is a pain and most of the
time I need to change his sheets and his Johnnie along with washing him
off.  I never let him know it's unpleasant, though, and I just breeze
through it.  I do love this guy even more now than ever and I want to
comfort him any way I can.  I get up and make my way to the bathroom
quietly so that Tom can sleep until I need his help.  I piss and then start
the process by running water in the sink and adjusting the temperature just
right and then filling a basin and soaking a couple of towels in the water
for the initial cleanup.  I grab two or three extra dry towels for
afterwards and go into the room and set it all down on the tray table.  I
just hesitate for a second knowing I've forgotten some item since I can
sense something is missing.  Nothing occurs to me, though, and I reach out
to caress Tom's face to wake him.  I have to stop myself in mid-motion
since I'm primed to move on to getting Tom to roll over onto his side but I
realize as if out of a fog that Tom's face was cold when I touched it and
he didn't stir as he always does.  I need to take a step back and repeat
the gesture with no change and then reach into Tom's Johnnie and touch his
chest and belly and conclude that Tom won't be assisting me with this
today.  A few times before today he's been too weak to assist and I know
the official way to accomplish the job without the patient's help and I go
about my duties as I have before.  I roll Tom over onto his side and raise
the sheet and blanket to observe the extent of the needed cleanup and see
that as I expected it will be a full cleanup today with a fresh Johnnie and
new sheets and I start the process.  I keep the needed linens nearby and I
can just reach out for them and I fold the soiled sheet over on itself and
slightly tuck it under Tom then I start the cleanup in earnest with the
moist towels and wipe up all signs of the accident on Tom.  It takes a
while and I want to be especially gentle with it and also be careful that
Tom doesn't get chilled from the exposure so I need to work fairly fast but
it seeps into my consciousness that I don't need to be so quick today.  Tom
won't get a chill this morning.  This is an odd thought for just now and I
push it back a little and continue the cleanup.  I've got his rear cleaned
up thoroughly and dried and that odd thought comes back more insistently.
I suddenly am seized with the realization that this will be the last time I
will do this for Tom and I want to linger a while at this; show him just
how much he's appreciated.  I kiss my index finger, unafraid, since by now
all Tom's germs are also my germs anyway and I place my index finger over
his anus.  I think of how much joy and pleasure Tom's opening has brought
into my life and also how I have been able to give him so much pleasure
through the same route.  I pause to appreciate Tom from this view,
undignified though it may seem, and realize it is a proper salute for the
way we have lived our lives together.  I also reach over and caress his
balls one last time surprised that I don't get the contented sigh he always
returns to me.  My reverie only lasts a few moments and then I continue my
duties until he is all set right again.  With a new johnnie on and clean
sheets in place, I return Tom onto his back again and straighten the sheets
and blanket over him just as I have done so many times before.  I lean down
to kiss him on his cheek as I've done since I don't know when.  I realize
now I am fighting the urge to crawl back into bed with him and instead I
reach over and grab the can of deodorant and spray the air generously as if
it will erase all that has passed before.  Satisfied, I am propelled to
leave the room and I march myself down to the nurse's station as if I would
be asking for another assignment and once I arrive there it takes a few
seconds for the nurse's question to penetrate into my thoughts.  Just then
it strikes me what was missing: I couldn't smell any ammonia!

"Mr. Clark, what can I do for you this morning?"

"I'm sorry.  I was just thinking that there's no ammonia smell.  I just
realized it."

"Mr Clark... you do know what that means, don't you?"

"Yes, of course.  Tom died last night while he slept.  I just couldn't
imagine why I woke up so alone.  Tom's gone and I'm still here.  Doesn't
seem fair."

"Would you like us to call somebody, Adam?"

"Just a couple more minutes and I'll start calling."

"I'll send someone down in a few minutes, then, Adam."

"Thanks."

I gather what's left of my wits and wander back to our room.  Of course,
Tom hasn't moved an inch and I'm relieved to see that and I sit down to
contemplate a second.  I realize first that there will be no gathering
today.  All those plans flew out the window last night sometime.  I also
realize that I won't get to give my goodbye speech while Tom is still
breathing.  I wrote it knowing that he probably would be unconscious or
comatose when I read it with all our friends around but it doesn't seem so
out-of-place to read it to him here and now.  I reach into the bedside
drawer and retrieve it and though I haven't been able to memorize it yet I
don't think Tom will complain.  I stand up and go over to Tom's side of the
bed and lean down to his ear.  It seems a little discordant to me but I
push that aside and assume the position I've used hundreds of times before
when I wanted to convey something intimate between myself and Tom.  I start
quietly reading the speech in that way in the hope it will be somehow
comforting to Tom:

"Tom, the time has come for you to move on with your journey.  We've loved
each other for so many years and I know you've been hanging on to make my
time here memorable and filled with your spirit.  Please consider that
pledge fulfilled in every way.  I will remember and cherish you all the
days of my life as my constant companion, my lover, my sweet nudge and my
faithful friend.  I know you will keep those same memories with you as you
take that long trip to your next phase.  I am envious because you will soon
know what I can only speculate about.  Not so very long from now I'll take
my own separate journey but for now I need to stay behind until I am
called.  All your friends...."  At this point I stumble since the speech is
written with the gathering in mind and continues 'gathered here together'
which isn't the case now.  I continue: "All your friends wish you Godspeed
and fair winds on your way.  They all remember you in their own way but you
were a force in all of their lives as I have found talking with them the
last month and more they have been visiting you.  You are uniformly loved
by them all and they will all miss you intensely.  Your life has been
blessed and you have in turn blessed those you knew.  You were skilled in
your profession but also so very skilled in life and have made all our
lives richer by how you lived it and the example you set.  Goodbye, my
friend.  Go now and don't look back."

I'm aware that a nurse is hovering nearby to fulfill her duties and I
straighten up and pat Tom's cheek.  I go down to the family room and start
to make the minimum number of calls I possibly can.  I call Scott first
since it's early yet and he will be just getting up.  I give him the news
and ask him for a ride home after a while since I know I won't be ready to
drive anytime this morning.  I also call Maggie and inform her of Tom's
passing.  It's only a while I need to wait and they both arrive nearly
simultaneously and I suggest they go down to our room to spend some private
time with him and they go there hand-in-hand and support each other as they
pay their respects.  When they are finished they return to me and Maggie
embraces me and apologizes for leaving but needs to go to work.  Scott gets
me up and takes me to his car for the ride home.

When we get there Scott guides me to the bedroom.  He starts undressing me
then puts me gently to bed on my side.  He takes a long couple of minutes
to undress himself and then gets into bed on Tom's side.  I really can see
that Scott wants to comfort me one final time while I recover and can
prepare for the stresses tomorrow will bring.  He really must care for me
in ways I never realized to be so sweet to me.  Soon, he's silently urging
me to move over to the middle of the bed and lifting me up by the torso so
that I'm on my hands and knees.  I want to collapse back down on the bed
but he urges me to stay in place. He takes the position behind me and I can
feel his hands on my ass.  This feels so good and I'm so tired I don't
think to protest.  I could use a good massage right now.  I feel his
fingers working around my hole prodding and massaging me.  He really wants
this to be a relaxing moment for me, I think.  Then I can start to feel the
pressure of a dick at my entrance.  It seems so far away but so immediate
and exciting as well.  What a thoughtful gift.  I've been so absorbed in
Tom that I've completely forgotten my own pleasure for what seems like
months.  I realized a while ago that I've been so remiss that I've even
started having nocturnal emissions again.  I haven't had them since I was a
teen.  Me?  I suppose so; it's only natural.  I keep waking up sticky in
the mornings and I have to hide it from Tom so that he won't feel bad.
After all it's not his fault; it's nobody's fault.  I hate that I'm horny
when Tom has been so down.  I just ignore the feelings and concentrate even
more on him.  Suddenly I'm snapped out of my dream state because there's
now a dick in my ass and it feels so good and I realize I'm so
out-of-practice that I haven't started to respond yet.  I decide to get
with the program and push back with his thrusts and get into the mood.
Suddenly I think of Jonathan and what he might think about what's happening
here.  I figure Jon would forgive us this infidelity in view of the
circumstances and maybe they talked about this beforehand.  No time to ask,
though.  He's being strangely silent and it would ruin the mood to start a
conversation now.  While I'm enjoying the parry and thrust of a rousing
fuck I'm becoming aware that I can feel a hand massaging my thighs from the
front side and up to my balls then down the other side.  This continues for
a while and I can really get into the extra stimulation.  I'm thrusting,
he's thrusting so who has the extra concentration to make me feel so good?
I can't/won't object because that hand is straying to my dick now.  It's
just encircling my member and starting to squeeze.  The fucking motion is
doing all the work for me.  Normally I lose my erection when I get screwed
but this time I'm amazed that my dick is like steel.  I'm really starting
to soar from the stroking and the wandering hand is touching me everywhere
I can imagine.  I shake my head back-and-forth and imagine my hair is long
and I can feel it touching my face, my neck, my back, tickling me;
caressing me.  He is really slamming into me now and I can feel the warning
signs that I'm very close.  He grabs onto me around the ribcage and
wrestles me into an upright position and kisses my neck and thrusts so
forcefully into me that it's all I can do to not fall from the force and
all that energy is what sends me over the edge.  He's coming and so am I.
It only lasts a few seconds but seems to be going on in slow motion.
Suddenly I am released from his grip and I fall to the bed.  I must have
blacked out because I don't remember his withdrawal at all.  Usually I'm
hyper-aware of the sensations immediately after a coupling like this but
this time, nothing!

I rouse myself from my stupor and find I'm alone in bed.  "Hey, Scott..."

Scott answers from way across the room: "You OK, Adam?"

"Thoroughly fucked but fine.  What the hell happened to me?  I just woke up
and I'm all covered in jizz.  I feel like I ran a race and nobody put my
blanket on after..."

"You had a hell of a time.  I couldn't even keep up with you.  You sure
you're all right?"

"I guess so.  I hope your man is in a forgiving mood.  You fucked the
living daylights out of me..."

"What do you mean?  All I did is give you a blow job and you wouldn't stay
still.  You kept humping my mouth and eventually I lost control of you and
you came all over yourself and me and the bed.  I thought it was a thunder
shower.  Shit, how long has it been and how blue were your balls, anyway?"

"What do YOU mean?  Didn't you just fuck me?"

"Nope.  You were just rocking and moaning up on your hands and knees and I
just felt so bad for you I started to jack you off but it turned into a
blow job which eventually all fell apart.  I don't remember you like that
from before."

"So who the hell was fucking me?"

"Nobody here but us two.  I still have my underwear on, too.  Never got
that far.  You were some excited, though."

"I still feel that cock up my ass.  Come over here and look for me and tell
me what you see."

Scott stands and starts to walk across the room toward me: "OK.  A little
weird but OK.  I don't even look up Jon's butt but OK.  Just for you."

"You're a prince...  What do you see?"

"It is a bit open.  Even a bit red around the edges.  Nothing else,
though."

"What, no leakage?  I could have sworn I was getting barebacked or
something else nasty."

"Nope.  How the hell do you do something like this by yourself.  I was
watching and you had your hands flat on the bed almost the whole time.  You
rose up for the last few seconds before you blew and I could see you were
faltering and I had to scoot out from under you before you fell or I would
have been crushed!"

"It was so real, I can't imagine anything more real.  I wish I could see it
for myself."  I craned my neck around and tried to look back there.

Scott's eyes widened and he said: "That's funny.  I didn't see that before.
You have a hickey right there on your neck.  It's bright red and just under
your right ear.  How come I missed that?"

"What?  I have a hickey?  God - the last time I had one of those was with
Tom.  It must have been ten years ago."

"Well, I don't give hickeys - it's so '70's and Jon would just freak.  No
marks on his body, if you please!"

"Nobody else ever gave me a hickey.  Only Tom.  He kinda liked to when we
were really passionate once-in-a-while.  He'd sneak up on me and boom!  We
were fucking like rabbits before I knew it.  He could overwhelm me like
that."

"Tell me about it."

"You, too?"

"Just once.  It really snapped me into focus.  He manhandled me and if it
was anybody else, I would have been offended but he didn't do it in a
hurtful way.  He was being dominant and I realized later that I needed that
from him just then.  He made me feel so loved all-at-once!  I remember he
even gave me a hickey that time.  I felt so embarrassed when I saw it
afterward, though - like a slutty coed on a date."

"Tom, Tom, Tom!  I never knew.  He must have liked that kind of thing.  He
never talked about it but it happened more than once with us.  It was the
way you described and just on the spur of the moment.  Once his passion was
spent I could see he had thought about it.  He had a condom on every time.
I think he did it just to see my reaction to the spontaneous passion."

"My God.  He was a real lover, wasn't he?"

"In all the best ways.  You knew some of it but it was the everyday little
things that got to me.  So many years together and all the little things.
Just the eye contact over dinner and I knew exactly what was coming after.
Him playing footsie under the table.  Rubbing up against me when I was
washing the dishes.  Seeing if he could get me hard in public.  (He always
could...)"

"I hope we can have that too, Jon and I."

"You'll find what works for the both of you.  See how he reacts to
something spontaneous.  Nothing too big just yet.  Don't rape him, just
surprise him; take his breath away."

"I can try to do that.  Thank you, Tom.  You continue to educate me even
now..."

"Me too.  Tom seems to be educating both of us today.  Say... you don't
suppose?"

We both say the same thing we've been thinking simultaneously: "Tom!"

"That's too weird.  Still, the hickey, your ass, it makes a kind of sense.
I never believed in spirits before but if I was ever to start, today would
be the day..."

"OK... Together now: Thank you, Tom!"

"Thank you, Tom!"

Finally, I whisper: "I love you..."

Author's Note: Please pay attention to the take-away from this story: GO
GET TESTED!  Don't wait, don't find an excuse, GO GET TESTED!  If you have
a pimple on your dick, GO GET TESTED!  Have I made my point?  Early testing
is the best means of survival.  Hepatitis-C infection is brutal and can be
controlled.  If you are from the `Baby Boom' generation or close to it, be
sure to get tested.

Author's Note Two: First up, please consider donating to nifty.org They are
the founders of this feast and if not for them, what would all of us horny,
voracious readers do?  http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

You may contact me at snow.steve22_AT_yahoo.com if you have questions,
suggestions, niggles, complaints, propositions, cease-and-desists or
whatever.  Just don't bother to spam me.  I don't have the time or energy.
Thank you.