Date: Fri, 2 May 2003 08:02:04 -0700 (PDT)
From: Ganymede
Subject: Paradise 7

WARNING:

 This story contains descriptions of sexual acts involving men and MINOR 
boys. Such descriptions are an integral part of the story. While the 
story may appeal to prurient interests, it is intended to have serious 
literary value. If you are under the age of 18, if this material is 
illegal in your place of residence, or if man-boy relationships aren't 
your thing, then exit now and save yourself from a life of sin!



As a friend recently said: "Everyone has the right to fantasy. No one has 
the right to censor an imagination, or dreams." With that in mind, know 
that this story is not true! Further, it is not intended to promote 
illegal acts against minors, but to demonstrate that men and boys can 
love each other despite the prevalent attitudes of western society. It is 
my goal to help readers appreciate that love. The sexual acts described 
in the story are the result of my imagination. I have not performed these 
acts, and I do not encourage others to perform them with minors. If the 
subject of man/boy love offends you, if this material is illegal in your 
place of residence, or if you are under the legal age for such material, 
do not read further! 

By downloading this story:

 "... you implicitly declare and affirm under penalties of perjury that 
you are not a minor or in the company of a minor and are entitled to have 
access to material intended for mature, responsible members of society 
capable of making decisions about the content of documents they wish to 
read...." 

The story is copyrighted under my pseudonym, Ganymede. A copy has been 
placed in the Nifty archives for your enjoyment. The story cannot be used 
to derive monetary gain. The story cannot be placed in archives that 
require payment for access, or printed and distributed in any form that 
requires payment either directly or indirectly. Any similarity to 
individuals, living or dead, is entirely accidental. 

THE NIFTY ARCHIVE:

The Nifty Archive needs your support. If you enjoy reading this story, 
please remember that it is available only because of the Nifty Archive. 
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***********************************************************************

My sincere appreciation to two friends whose comments on this story have 
been very helpful. It is because of them, and the e-mails I have received
from many other fans, that I have decided to post the rest of Paradise 
on Nifty rather than restrict its availability. 

Perhaps, as some people believe, my descriptions of sexual activity, 
rather than  being satisfying to the reader and an integral part of the
story, have become boring! I have always endeavored to write stories that
promote the love of boys in a favorable light, recognizing that sex 
and love must go hand in hand for a relationship to be truly fulfilling.

My stories are ongoing experiments: from the first story, Summer Dreams, 
testing the proposition that love could exist between a man and a boy, to
A Nice Boy, which took an Orwellian view of today's attitudes to that love.
I have tried to incorporate deeper messages in most of what I write, while
elevating the act of love to approach the level of literature.

If my critics are right, then I have failed. I have always believed 
that when the occured, it was the time to stop writing.

***********************************************************************

Paradise. By Ganymede


Chapter 12.


I put his offer to help to the test. Williams promptly brought out the 
business ledgers that showed his customers over the last three years. I 
couldn't see much point in going back further than that because Vincente 
had been at Candy Cay for just that long. He'd been having sex almost as 
long as Roddy. No wonder Vincente's anus looked well-used. The other 
thing I realized was that Roddy had known Vincente. They'd been at Candy 
Cay together, yet Roddy had not mentioned it. Indeed, Fernando had gone 
out of his way to give the impression that Vincente was a stranger when 
they were probably acquainted. 

"Here's the entry for May," Williams began after turning several dozen 
pages. 

He pointed with his finger and I leaned across to examine. His writing 
was neat and legible, as one expected from a teacher. After I told him of 
the events that brought Joey and me to the Exumas, he elaborated on his 
personal history. It amused me somewhat to think that he had been fired 
from his position because a twelve-year-old boy had brought allegations 
of sexual abuse. What should have been disastrous had ended up as the 
best thing that ever happened to him. He left the grim life of shoveling 
snow and settled in an island paradise where he was surrounded by good 
looking boys who wanted nothing more than for a man to molest them. It 
was a paradise for me as well, if only because Joey was with me. For 
close on two years we'd been lovers. They were wonderful years.

"This was when Vincente started. The P-R means he came from Puerto Rico. 
I think Sal found him on the beach one night," he continued. "The six 
means that he was in cabin six. I had him start out sharing with Marcus 
until he got the hang of it." He gestured across the compound. "That's 
six over there. The boys call it the tea house because the inside looks 
like a Japanese tea room. Let's see, his customers were,... The first one 
was Ted Grooms. He's an accountant  from Louisiana. He got a B. That's 
about seven out of ten. Not that bad for his first time, but it's only 
because he didn't want to do anal."

"Pardon?"

Williams smiled. "The boys are rated by the men. They rate the men as 
well. It's the best way I've found to keep track of what happens in the 
cabins."

"So a B is okay under the circumstances?"

Williams laughed. "It's very good for a first timer. They're usually a 
bit uptight. And tight too, if you know what I mean. Now, the following 
week he was with Gary Brown. He's an interesting guy. He's a major 
leaguer. Comes all the way from the west coast. He's usually here twice a 
year, but only for a couple of days at a time. He's very popular with the 
boys. He gave Vincente an A and paid him $400 a day. That's because he 
was only nine at the time." He scanned down the list, using his hand to 
cover the names so I couldn't see them.  "No one with him for the 
following week?.. He probably needed a rest. Yes, there it is. Gary's 
about average-size, but little Vincente still had a couple of fissures. I 
treated him with antiseptic cream. Ah, here's the next one. Not till the 
middle of June. I remember now, he got an infected leg from playing on 
the coral. Hm, I see he was with Bob. You don't need to worry about him, 
I'm afraid, Mr. Woods. He's dead!"

I nodded. Something was dragging at my thoughts, pulling in a different 
direction. It was like that sometimes when the pieces began to fall into 
place. Could Bobb be Robert Hardy, Junior? Had he been at Candy Cay? He'd 
slept with Vincente? He'd also been a friend of Steve Adams, Vincente's 
last customer. Again, it was one of those things that could be 
coincidence.

"Tell me about him?" I asked slowly.

"Bob Hardy?"

I nodded.

"Hm, not a lot to tell. He's from Chicago." Williams stopped suddenly. He 
glanced up to meet my eyes. "You know him, don't you? Of course you do. 
That's what Adams said yesterday. You interrogated him a couple of years 
ago. I didn't make the association with Hardy."

"Yes, I did. Tell me about Hardy?"

"He ranked Vincente as an A-." He winked meaningfully. "He's not that 
bad. The poor boy must have gotten tight again. They do, of course,  if 
they don't do it regularly."

"That's a problem then? Being tight I mean?"

Williams smirked. "Well,... I think it depends on what you like. But if a 
boy's too tight, it tends to hurt him, so he doesn't enjoy it all that 
much. Once they loosen up inside, they always enjoy it." He regarded the 
ledger in his lap. "Bob was one of my regulars until then. He was 
supposed to come back in December, but he postponed that trip. I believe 
he met a boy in Chicago. A young boy too, nine years old, I think, which 
was exactly how Bob liked them. I heard on the grapevine that he was a 
real little doll." He flipped pages quickly, stopping suddenly. "See, 
there's a International Florist charge of $50 for the flowers I sent to 
the funeral."

The amount in the ledger was notated with an address that belonged to a 
funeral parlor.  I scratched my head. Williams turned the pages back 
again. Again, I had the sense of something missing. It wasn't all that 
far away and it was important. Again, that pulling sensation inside my 
head, like neurons trying to form connections between things that weren't 
quite ready to be connected. 

"He was a good customer?" I asked.

"Good? He was wonderful. The boys adored him. He was very generous with 
them. He paid Vincente three thousand for the week. That's almost double 
his usual rate. Whoever his young friend was in Chicago, he was a very 
lucky boy."

"Do you have any idea of who murdered him?" I asked absently. 

Suddenly, the Hardy case was wide open again. Two years ago, I had been 
working on the assumption that one of Hardy's business clients had pulled 
the trigger on a 38 caliber handgun. It was the logical way to proceed at 
the time. Now, I wasn't quite so certain that revenge for being swindled 
was the only motive.

"No, not really. Adams thought it was one of his business associates. I 
expect you know that already?"

"He was an investment manager for some very wealthy people," I explained. 
"There was evidence that he was churning their accounts, buying and 
selling stock in order to take a commission."

"I didn't think an investment manager's commission was so large it would 
be worth doing something like that," Williams commented.

"It is when you're moving around hundreds of millions of dollars at a 
time. I wasn't able to prove it at the time, but I had the impression 
that a few of his clients might have had connections with the Mafia. That 
would account for the single shot to the head."

"Why is that?"

"It's their standard way of executing someone," I elucidated. "They make 
the victim knee down and someone walks up to him, puts the gun to his 
head, and, bang."

"That's how Bob was killed?"

"Yes." 

I didn't add that pieces of Hardy's skull and brains were found twenty 
feet away. His head exploded like a watermelon hit by a shotgun blast. I 
heard a sound from within the cabin, the sound of the bamboo-framed couch 
creaking as Joey began to sit up. I wanted to go inside and find out how 
he felt. Yet, that nagging feeling that I was onto something kept me 
there on the verandah.

"Let's see, now after Bob, there was Kevin Landers. He's relatively new. 
He was here again just last week. It was his,... hm, his third time, I 
think. Actually, he was here when Bob was here. He stayed two weeks that 
time. He stayed with,... Hm,... that's interesting."

"What's interesting?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing really. It's just that most of the men settle down with 
one of the boys after a day or two. Kevin didn't. He was with,... Let's 
see. Roddy was with him on the third day,... then,... No one the next 
night. Or the next. And then there was Jeff on the second last night."

"Jeff?" I asked. I hadn't missed the tone of what he said. 'Jeff', the 
same way that I said 'Joey'. Was Williams in love? or had he been in love 
until Jeff became too old to interest him.

"Jeff was quite a boy. I don't get that many blond boys down here as you 
might expect. He was a doll. He regularly got a thousand dollars a day. 
It was rather a pity when he finally went off with Graham Day, although I 
did like to see him happy, needless to say."

"Graham Day?"

"The singer? From Las Vegas?"

I shrugged. After two years in the Exumas, my knowledge of current 
singers was limited to hearing Joey's CD collection pounding out through 
the boat's speaker system again and again, that and the island steel-
bands that played at Fernando's bar. Joey's CD collection definitely did 
not included Las Vegas lounge lizards.

"Graham adopted him the following year," Williams continued. "Lucky man. 
Some of my clients were very upset. Jeff was very popular. He was good at 
it. I'm sure you know what I mean. I used to have him work with some of 
the younger boys to improve their style."

His voice had changed, becoming flatter, without emotion, as if 
remembering something from the past. I didn't pick up on it right away. I 
was thinking of something else. Not counting myself and Fernando, other 
than Williams, I had not seen any men on the island. Somehow, that did 
not make a lot of sense. It wasn't the tourist season, but there were six 
oversexed boys who should have brought men running no matter what the 
season was.

"Now then,..." He looked at the ledger,  running his finger down the 
column. "Who was Vincente with during the rest of June. Ah yes, the 
German contingent. Despite what you might think they're rather fond of 
dark-skinned boys."

"Huh?"

We both heard the creak through the cabin wall. Joey was turning over on 
the couch. Perhaps he was waking up. We waited for another sound. 
Finally, Williams shrugged.

"He went back to sleep again, I'd say?. Vincente was with Rudi Schrieder 
the following week. He's from Hamburg. Actually, he's back this week as 
well. If you want to speak to him, I suppose it would be alright. After 
that,..."

So, there were other men around. The island wasn't that big on the chart, 
but it was certainly large enough for a man and boy to find somewhere 
where they wouldn't be disturbed for a few hours. Given the heat of the 
day, it was likely they were in the air-conditioned cabins with the boys. 
There was an occasional burst of laughter from one or two of the cabins 
that confirmed something was happening.

"Yes?" I prodded.

"Nothing. I was just thinking about something."

"Which is?"

Williams smiled wryly. "My, but you are persistent. Steve did warn me, so 
I shouldn't be all that surprised." He paused. "Tim Lewis was here then. 
He managed to convince Graham to put on a show for us one night down on 
the beach."

"Who's he?"

"Tim? He's one of my friends from college. We used to cruise the malls in 
Pittsburg together on the weekends. Tim was always looking out for 
cuties."

"For boys?"

"Of course, for boys," Williams smiled weakly. "He wasn't with Vincent. I 
lined with up with another boy." He shook his head sadly. "I figured Tim 
was probably watching a boy when he was hit." He sighed. "He was on life-
support for a few weeks. I went up to see him, but it was a waste of 
time. He didn't know who I was. It was all very sad. His wife pulled the 
plug the next day. At least I had the chance to say good bye."

"Car accident?"

"Hit and run, actually. The police told me he was on the side walk at the 
time."

"Tell me more about Landers," I said. 

If Williams had asked why Landers was of interest to me, I probably could 
not have said what it was. Perhaps it was something that Williams said. 
Looking around me, and knowing what I knew of the boys who lived on Candy 
Cay, it didn't make much sense that a man would waste a single night by 
not taking one of the boys to bed. It made as much sense as Vincente's 
death. 

There was no motive that I could think of except that someone, one of the 
other men more than likely, had become jealous of whom Vincente was 
sleeping with. That argued for killing the other man, or men, but not for 
murdering Vincente. Perhaps Vincente would not have sex with one of the 
men. There might be grounds for some sort of perverted retribution, 
justification for his murder, but that wasn't the case for Landers. It 
sounded as if he had the opportunity to do whatever he wanted with 
Vincente. Somehow, I wasn't at all sure why, but it all came back to 
Landers.

 "There's not a lot to tell. He's a regular. What I mean is that for the 
last couple of years he's come here about this time. The boys aren't 
particularly fond of him, I think. He's the religious sort. Actually, I'm 
not exactly sure what he does for a living. He might be a minister from 
the way he talks. He's involved with some sort of mission for homeless 
kids in New York. That's how he found out about us. We've recruited a 
couple of our best kids from there."

"Adam?"

Williams nodded. "He's one of the best to come along for quite a while. 
Everyone likes him. Jeff came from there too."

Vaguely, I wondered if there was some sort of connection with Landers and 
the mission in New York. There might well be. Again, the coincidence 
factor as I called it, was working overtime. However, that connection did 
not extend to Vincente. It was another dead end.

"Landers," I prompted.

"You don't let up, do you? Okay. What else can I tell you? Hm,... He 
doesn't mix very well at our get-to-know-you parties."

I wasn't surprised by that. He sounded like the type to be difficult to 
get on with, the type of man who would avoid social situations. A bit 
like me. The only person I had ever really cared about was lying on a 
couch not more than a dozen feet away.

"How did Roddy rate him?" I asked. Again, I wasn't at all sure why I 
wanted to know. Not often, but frequently enough, I relied on my 
intuition when I ran up against a dead end. This was one of those times.

Williams glanced down at the page. "Hm, a C. That's better that what Jeff 
gave him. That was an F!"

"Pretty bad in bed, huh? Maybe he couldn't get it up."

"That's not something my boys have a problem with," Williams quipped. 

"It sounds like Jeff had higher expectations."

"He probably did. But it is unusual to see an F. The boys usually won't 
go lower than a C unless,..."

"Unless what?"

"The man tries to hurt them. They're supposed to report it if something 
unpleasant happens. The boys, of course. But they usually don't. The 
unwritten code of boys, I suppose? They think they're so grown up. They 
tend to keep quiet about what they do, except to each other.I don't hear 
a lot of what goes on, unless there's physical injury,..."

"You think Landers tried to hurt Jeff?" I asked thoughtfully.

"Oh no. I remember quite clearly talking with him afterwards. It wasn't 
that at all. Nothing happened."

"Nothing happened?"

"Exactly. Landers didn't do anything."

"Huh?"

"Jeff said all they did was talk, mostly about what he did with other 
men. It sounded like he lectured Jeff for a while. Some men get their 
kicks from things like that, I suppose. I think it's a bit sad really. 
The boys really want to have sex. That's why they're here in the first 
place. Jeff was a bit worried about it when Landers showed up here the 
following year, but that was when Graham came down to take him away. It's 
just such a shame."

"What's a shame?"

"What happened?"

"Well, the plane wreck of course."

"What plane wreck?"

"You probably missed hearing about it. Graham was flying his private 
plane from Las Vegas to San Diego. Jeff was with him. Anyway, there was 
some sort of mechanical problem and it went down in the mountains. They 
were both killed instantly. Jeff had only been with him for a month or 
two. I got an email from him a day or two earlier. He was very happy, but 
what boy wouldn't be living in a luxurious hacienda with a man like 
Graham."

"That's too bad."

We sat in silence for a while. I kept thinking of Joey and how happy we 
had been for the last two years. It wasn't just the sex. It was being 
around him, watching him experiencing life, just being him. Chicago 
seemed like a very long way away. So did seeing Vincente's body lying in 
the sand next to the boat. It was all surreal. Only a day earlier, he'd 
been grinning at Steve Adams from the stern of the motor yacht  as 
Conundrum pulled away from the Georgetown dock. There were no prizes to 
be given for guessing what they were going to do as soon as we were out 
of sight. Then, again in the night, when Joey and I watched Adams put his 
huge cock inside Vincente's  little butt. Again, no prizes. The boy liked 
it. He liked it as much as Joey did, or Roddy, or any other boy who had 
sex with men.

"Vincente had a lot of men that first year," Williams said absently. He 
had been turning the pages of the second ledger. "There's not many open 
weeks. Ten or eleven, I'd say. He spent a couple of weeks in Georgetown 
with Fernando and Roddy when they were buying the bar, but that hardly 
counts. Fernando probably fucked him a couple of times anyway. Roddy 
probably did it too."

 I smiled. "Why am I not surprised by that?"

"I'm not." 

We both laughed. It wasn't funny, not really. I had a terrible feeling. 
Perhaps Fernando had murdered Vincente? It wasn't hard to come up with a 
reason: Roddy. And it was also possible, wasn't it, that Roddy had killed 
the boy? The motive was the same. Jealousy, because Vincente was having 
sex with Fernando. None of it made any sense. Including Landers. Then, 
there was the fire the night before at Fernando's bar. That made even 
less sense.

"What else can you tell me?" I asked.

"That rather depends on what are you're looking for, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does. The problem is I don't know what to look for. All I have 
to go on is that Vincent was strangled. It might have been by a woman, 
but knowing what he did for a living, more than likely it was a man."

"These forty men who were with Vincente in his first year, Mr. Kingston, 
I know them. They're good men, they just happen to love young boys. 
They're all regulars. They've all been invited back afterwards, most of 
them have asked for Vincente. I can't see that there's been any sign of 
trouble."

I nodded thoughtfully. He was right. Further, it wasn't just the men who 
Vincente had sex with. There were other men who visited Candy Cay. I did 
the math in my head. Maybe as many as 240 in a year. Six boys times 
forty. It was like looking for a needle in the proverbial haystack. I 
sighed.

"Hi."

Joey's voice plunged into my thoughts and startled me back to life.

"Hi yourself, kid. How do you feel?"

Joey smiled weakly. He was always slow to recover for the first few 
minutes of waking up. He looked much better. His skin color had returned 
to normal, a warm satin brown. 

"Okay. The headache's gone." His voice was subdued.

He glanced at Williams, not shy, but not forward either. He was naked but 
it didn't seem to bother him.

"Hi ya," Joey said lightheartedly.

"Hello," Williams said warmly. "I'm Ted Williams. You're Joey, right?" 
Joey nodded slightly, barely moving his head. "You can call me Ted, if 
you'd like."

"Thanks for letting me use your couch,... Ted."

"Sure.  You looked like death heated up when your dad brought you in."

Joey shrugged. His smile was reassuring to me. "I'm feeling better now."

"So I see." 

Williams' eyes lowered, gazing over Joey's naked body, lingering at the 
important places. He wasn't well-endowed, not like some boys with their 
pubescent cocks and low-hanging balls. However, what Joey had, was even 
more interesting to look at, because after all was said and done, he was 
what men lusted after. His smooth hairless athletic body and glabrous 
skin had Williams entranced. 

"You're quite a boy," Williams said suggestively. "Your dad's a very 
lucky man to have you."

I nodded in agreement. What could I do? Deny the obvious truth?

"There's not a hair on him, is there?" Williams observed. "Other than on 
his head, of course. You have no idea how much men prefer their boys like 
that."

"That's why you shave them?"

"Oh, you mean Adam and the rest? Actually, shaving a boy is a bad idea. 
The hair grows out too soon and it's coarse. I use the Lex system. 
There's a spray and wip-off remover, an inhibitor to keep the hair from 
growing back, and moisturizing lotion to make the skin feel like a young 
boy again."

"It sounds expensive."

"It is, but the results are worth it. It's usually around $20 a bottle. 
God knows what they'd charge down here. I usually buy it in bulk when I'm 
in Miami."

"Where's Roddy?" Joey asked suddenly.

I could tell that Williams made him nervous. Not that Joey was afraid of 
being seen naked. He'd spent the best part of the last two years without 
clothes on. He knew that his body was nothing to be ashamed of. It was 
the way that Williams kept looking even while he was talking about 
removing the hair from a boy's body, examining Joey like he was about to 
buy him, imagining touching his bare flesh, all at the same time. I felt 
a surge of pride that my son could have that effect on another man. It 
was also disheartening.

Williams pointed at the cabin at the far end of the compound. It was 
where Fernando had gone. He'd been there for a couple of hours, almost 
the entire time that Joey had been asleep. Even as we looked in that 
direction, another boy emerged from the cabin. He jumped instead of going 
down the four steps, laughing and shouting as he went. He ran across the 
compound, giggling, oblivious to the sweltering summer heat. Unlike 
Joey, whose first ten years of life had been spent in Chicago, Carlos had 
grown up in the Caribbean. He leaped onto the verandah of Williams' cabin 
and came to a foot-splintering stop on the verandah. He was still 
giggling. 

"Yo won' 'lieve what dey does," he announced brashly.

"Try me," Williams said. 

His hand cupped Carlos' bottom, like my hand could completely cup one of 
Joey's cheeks and still have room for most of the other cheek. Carlos 
bent down, putting his lips next to the man's ear. He whispered, 
exaggerating, telling all. Williams smirked, fondling between the boy's 
brown cheeks. He elicited a muted giggle, but the boy stay where was was. 
Joey smirked shamelessly. From where he was standing, he had a better 
view than I did. More than likely, Williams had a finger inside Carlos' 
crack. He listened to what the boy said, although I was certain his 
attention was distracted.

"Really?"

Carlos nodded energetically. "Dey done dat, Ted. Dat taste awful."

"Trust me, it isn't as bad as you think. It's an acquired taste, dear 
boy," Williams chuckled. He looked up at me. "It seems Fernando just 
pissed in Roddy's mouth."

"Gross!" came Joey's immediate response. However, he still smiled at the 
thought. Perhaps he found it amusing because we'd made jokes about doing 
things like that, even if we'd never done it ourselves.

"Each to his own, Joey," Williams chided. "If they're both willing, I 
don't see why they shouldn't do it, do you?"

"Because it's dirty for one reason," I replied.

"Now, Mr Kingston, surely you don't believe that? You put your semen in 
Joey's butt, don't you? And in his mouth too, more than likely. Most of 
us boy-loving men like getting our cocks sucked. I don't see that there's 
all that much difference between the two."

"He licks my butt afterwards sometimes too," Joey blurted out amid 
giggles.

"Ah,..." Williams smirked. "A man after my own heart."

He lifted his hand from Carlos' buttocks and brought it to his nose. 
Carlos shook his head agitatedly. The implication was obvious, but as 
Williams smelled, I saw him smile. It was only his way of teasing the 
boy. I teased Joey the same way. The smell was really quite pleasant, not 
at all like what one might expect to find. Williams crudely licked his 
fingertips, smacking his lips for effect. Carlos snorted 
demonstratively.

"Ah,... I'm afraid it's mostly mine this time. There's nothing quite like 
the taste of a freshly fucked boy, is there? Your dad likes the taste 
too, I bet. Although I'm sure Kevin Landers would never agree."

I did agree, but I did so without direct acknowledgement of the fact. Not 
that it was needed, Joey's boyish guffaw was enough to confirm what 
Williams suggested.

"How much did Roddy tell you about this place?" he asked Joey bluntly.

"Candy Cay?" Joey asked, just to make certain. Williams nodded. "He told 
me there were a bunch of boys here who have sex with men. They get paid 
to do it, but no one forces them. Um, Vincente came from here,... and, 
Roddy said that he used to live here, but it was couple of years ago."

Williams smiled. "You know it's a secret, don't you?"

Joey grinned. He glanced at me. "If my dad says so, then I'll never say a 
word."

"That works for me," Williams continued. 

His hand moved back to Carlos' rear where it was almost out of sight. I 
didn't need to see what he was doing. The expression on Carlos face was 
more than enough to guess where Williams' fingers were. Joey was the same 
way, both of them very aware of the sensitivity of that part of their 
young bodies.

"Your dad thinks the man who killed Vincente was one of the men who've 
visited here," he said without enthusiasm.

"My dad's pretty smart about stuff like that. He used to be a detective 
in Chicago," Joey announced.

"Yes, I know."

"While you were asleep we've been going through some of the men who 
Vincente slept with," I explained. For no reason at all, I added, "The 
weird thing is that one of the first men who Vincente had sex with was 
the man whose murder I was investigating right before we left Chicago."

"Bob Hardy," Williams said. "The boys really liked him at lot."

Joey's face paled and he seemed to slump against the railing. It took me 
by surprise. I could not remember him ever having two heat attacks in the 
same day. He breathed in and out quickly, gasping.

"What's wrong?" I asked apprehensively. 

Just the possibly that his problem was getting worse, frightened me. I 
could visualize the tiny piece of bone penetrating further into his 
hypothalamus, destroying as it went. Eventually, it would reach his brain 
and he'd go crazy. Doctor Lamar said that was impossible, but it didn't 
stop my imagination. 

"Nothing," Joey muttered weakly. "I feel hot, that's all."

However, his face was drained of color, not flushed and sweaty the way it 
usually was when he couldn't adjust to a change in temperature. We were 
out of the sun, and while it wasn't cool on the verandah, it wasn't so 
hot that we were uncomfortable. Usually, the temperature had to increase 
substantially before it would spike an attack.

"You'd better sit down and take it easy for a while," I said, patting my 
thighs. "You need to rest a while longer I think."

Joey swallowed and hesitantly approached. He eased down onto me, 
straddling my thighs. He was naked and cool compared to me. I could feel 
his uneasiness. His body was tense, not relaxed. He shivered, trembling 
even as my arm came around his shoulders to comfort him. Finally, he took 
a deep breath and let it out slowly. I stroked his cheek tenderly. He 
cuddled closer, placing his face on my shoulder. I held him, not too 
tightly. His breathing was uncertain. 

Several minutes passed. There was a slight breeze off the ocean that 
managed to find its way through the openings in the brush. Between that 
and the shade, it was almost comfortable on the verandah. I nuzzled 
Joey's hair, realizing just how much I loved him, wondering how I had 
ever managed to survive when he was living with his mother. If I listened 
carefully, I could hear the waves breaking on the reef, and somewhere, 
much further along the beach, the sounds of seagulls fighting.

"It's very quiet," I mused aloud.

"That it is." Williams let out a sigh. "I think it's partly the heat that 
keeps them away, but I can't help wondering whether it's something else. 
I used to have a full house this time of year. It was a good crowd. They 
were very generous with the boys and they all got on well together."

"Hm. How many are here now?"

Williams scratched his the back of his head, seeming to ponder what to 
say.

"I have all of two guests at the moment," he admitted with a sigh.

"Well, the middle of summer isn't exactly the tourist season," I said. 

I smiled, wiping my forehead with my hand for emphasis. Sitting in the 
shade, I wasn't sweating, but if I walked into the sun for even a minute, 
I would be covered with perspiration.

"True enough. It's just that,..." 

Williams shook his head, thinking to himself. He glanced at Joey, 
beginning to build a tentative rapport. I wasn't surprised. Joey had that 
effect on men like him, and me. I wasn't happy about it. I wondered what 
was going through his head. Both of their heads, for that matter.

"Three years ago I was ready to add another cabin," Williams continued. 
"There was no such thing as an off-season. I was turning men away. Then, 
it all started to go wrong."

"How so?"

Joey wriggled again to get comfortable in my lap. He was beginning to 
relax. I stroked his thigh, appreaciating that his knees were wide apart, 
exposing his boyhood to Williams' eyes. I thought about making him sit 
another way. It disturbed me. It was almost as if he was showing himself 
off. Williams smiled appreciatively, making eye contact with Joey for a 
fraction of a second. he quickly looked away when he realized that I was 
aware of his interest.

"There wasn't any reason for it. Of course, it didn't help that Bob and 
Graham, and then Tim died. Jeff too." He sighed again, contemplating the 
other cabins. "I lost track of a few of the others who usually came this 
time of year. They didn't answer the E-mails I sent. I tried to find out 
what happened to them, just in case."

"Just in case of what?"

"In case something bad happened to them. I'm not stupid enough to think 
we're safe here. There's always a chance one of my customers gets caught 
and lets the cat out of the bag. That's why I don't allow cameras of any 
kind on the island. I'm always worried about a police or FBI 
investigation."

"What did you find out?"

"Nothing much. One of them, what was his name, Something Morgan,... Paul? 
Peter? How quickly we forget." He examined the ledger, scanning the rows. 
"He was here the same time as Bob. Poor bastard!"

"Pardon."

"He died in a fire. Apparently, it started in his garage. I didn't send 
flowers."

"Why?"

"I didn't find out until after he was buried. There didn't seem any 
point. It's all very sad," he lamented.

"Which leaves how many others?" I asked.

Williams gestured emptily. "Three or four from that week."

His eyes crept back to Joey. Again, I felt that awkward, anxious feeling 
when someone else coveted the only thing that was important to you. I 
tightened my grip on Joey's bare thigh and pushed it closer to the other 
one. Williams glanced away again.

"Doesn't it seem strange that half of your customers are dead?" I asked 
boldly.

"I put it down to bad luck. The week after next  I have seven men staying 
here. Actually, it gives the boys a chance to rest up."

"I suppose their butts need to take a break sometimes," I said 
sarcastically.

"Like his?" Williams said, nodding at Joey.

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"When a young boy is having sex with a man, there are plenty of signs, if 
one knows what to look for," he said obscurely.

"It's not like I'm hiring him out to strangers," I rebuked defensively.

Williams winked. "I wouldn't do that either, if he was mine. From what 
I've seen there's not much point in asking him, is there?"

"Asking him what?"

"I was going to ask him whether he likes being your boy, remember? I 
think his answer is pretty obvious."

I shrugged. Joey and I loved each other. It was no big deal except to us!

"I love my dad," Joey mumbled. His hand sought mine, binding our fingers 
together. "We're never going to be apart again. Never," he added for 
emphasis.

The way he said it made my heart glow with happiness. Yes, we said we 
loved each other, and yes, we made love a couple of times a day to prove 
it, but other than to Fernando and Roddy, we'd never admitted it. Now, in 
the space of an afternoon, both of us had told a complete stranger that 
we were lovers. Joey settled back against me, inhaling, breathing out, 
content and soft, and sharing his body's heat with me. It was this place, 
of course. I glanced around, looking over his head, inhaling the faint 
trace of sweat. The boy smell, I called it.

"He fucks me because I want him to," Joey added. "He wouldn't do it if he 
didn't love me."

"Would you?" Williams asked. "Would you have sex with someone else if the 
opportunity presented itself?" He folded his hands together. "Let's say 
if you were going to get,... hm,... let's say a thousand dollars a day?"

Joey shook his head slightly, but without conviction. I could tell that 
he was thinking it through. A thousand dollars for a single day, and the 
night too. He swallowed and shook his head again, but it was with even 
less conviction. 

"Not if my dad didn't want me to, I wouldn't," Joey said quietly.

Williams smiled. He had made his point. There were boys who needed to 
have sex men, just as there were men who needed to have sex with boys. 
Love, at least not the sort of  love that I felt for Joey, didn't enter 
into it. Joey stretched back, arching his back and tightening the skin of 
his chest and belly until it was like a drum, a very beautiful drum of 
smooth brown skin.

Through the bushes and coconut trees I could just glimpse the pristine 
white beach and the turquoise lagoon beyond. A man could be happy here. 
So could a boy. If Joey wasn't with me, I would want him live here. Candy 
Cay was dedicated to the love of men and boys. We were safe there, safe 
in that haven where society couldn't impose its laws. Safe, except for 
the fact that one of it's boys had been murdered just two days earlier 
and some of the men who had visited two years ago were dying like flies. 
I returned to the last thing that had made any sense to me. The 
coincidences surrounding Kevin Landers. He was the only constant in my 
equation of hundreds of variables.

"What else can you tell me about Landers?" I asked.

Williams considered what we had already discussed. "There isn't much to 
tell."

He came across as a reluctant witness. As I waited, I rubbed Joey's head, 
brushing back the unruly locks that nearly covered his forehead. The 
little rascal took my caress as an invitation to play. He reached down 
beside his hip and began to fondle the end of my cock. I considered 
moving his hand away, but for some reason, a reason that I didn't even 
begin to understand, I wanted Williams to see.

"Let's start with what he looked like," I prompted.

"Hm,... ordinary, I guess. I mean he was about average height. White, of 
course. I don't think he got much sun in New York. He would lie under the 
trees when he went to the beach." Williams glanced at Joey, appreciative 
again. He watched Joey's hand with hawk-eyes. Men who loved boys were 
always like that, I decided. "Your son has a tan most of my boys would 
die for."

"He spends a lot of time outdoors," I said abruptly.

"Without clothes," Williams jibed. 

I nodded. "Most of the time. It's fairly private at our end of the island 
so he gets to go nude most afternoons after school."

"Lucky you! Of course, if he lived here, he could go nude twentry four 
hours a day. Where was I? Landers,... yes,.. He's an average guy. Between 
forty and fifty years old. Short hair, brown eyes, nothing special to 
remember him by. There might be a few photos of him in the scrapbook, but 
if the boys didn't like him very much,..." He let the thought go, 
unfinished for the moment. "The only thing about him that really comes to 
mind is how he made a big deal over the religion thing."

"A Bible basher?" Joey murmured. 

"A what? Yes, Joey, you very well might call him a Bible basher. Actually 
that's a pretty good description of him. That's exactly what he was," 
Williams agreed wholeheartedly.

"He sounds a bit like the guy I saw on the dock."

Something clicked again. It was like putting pieces of a jigsaw together. 
I sat up! "Saw when, Joey?"

"I told you about him Dad. You called him a Bible basher, remember?"

"I did?"

"Duh," Joey said in a frustrated voice. "I told you there was a guy who 
was standing where the trucks are supposed to park. He said stuff to me 
and Vincent when we were coming back from the store."

"What sort of stuff?"

"Religious stuff. That's why you called him a,..."

"A Bible basher," I finished. It was coming together in a rush, but it 
was always like that when I solved a case. More pieces were falling into 
place, the connections becoming stronger. I took a deep breath. "You said 
something then, Joey. I forget what it was,... something about seeing him 
before,... where was that?"

Joey didn't answer for a while, so long that I began to wonder whether he 
had forgotten the question. However, he was thinking, not thinking where 
he had seen the man, but thinking of a way not to tell me. How did I know 
that? I just did. It was twenty years of experience as a detective, 
listening to people lie, watching their faces while they try to invent a 
believable story. I bided my time. A minute nearly.

"Chicago," Joey finally whispered. 

He trembled as the words left his lips. I didn't want to revisit Chicago 
either. It was two years in the past, two wonderful years of loving Joey.

"Joey?" I said, trying to sound patient, even though I was certain that 
he was mistaken. What happened in Chicago had little or nothing to do 
with Vincent's murder. I did not start what I was about to say.  

"I only saw him there the once," Joey muttered.

Again, that rush of possibilities, some ridiculous, some feasible, one 
standing out from the crowd. I gulped, thinking quickly, reassembling 
what I knew into a different pattern.

"Which was when?"

"When,..." He stopped and breathed out. His head rocked into my shoulder. 
"Dad,..."

"Yes, Joey?"

It didn't make any sense that he was close to crying. Williams was 
sitting up, his hands on his knees, listening. Joey's voice was close to 
breaking, but not from puberty. 

"Joey," I said firmly. "Tell me."

"Dad,.... Daddy,.... I,... I,...." He tried to inhale, but there was 
nothing, just empty painful shudders. "I,.... I can't,... I promised. 
Mom,... Mom said,... I can't,.... That's all!" His head shook again. "I 
can't tell you, okay."

"Yes, you can." I pressed my fingers to his lips. He had such soft lips 
it was difficult to believe they could be so passionate.

"Dad,... I wanted to tell you,... I wanted so bad. I was so scared,... I 
couldn't help it,... She wouldn't let me see you,... no matter what I 
said,... and,... and,... she knew what I wanted,... and,... and I 
promised I'd never tell anyone,..." 

He sniffed loudly, trying hard not to burst into tears. Twelve-year-old 
half-Hispanic boys didn't cry, not in front of their fathers, their 
lovers, or complete strangers.

"Tell me, Joey," I said, this time more gently. 

I needed to protect him against the fear he felt inside, the horrible 
memory of that night not all that long ago, that night in Chicago when a 
baseball bat had smashed his skull. My hand cupped over Joey's groin. It 
was pitifully small and soft, not like Joey at all. It was if all his 
desire had been drained away, never to return.

"He was at Bob's house one day."

"Bob?" 

I swallowed when I said that word. I knew what was coming. Kevin Landers 
was at Robert Hardy Junior's house. I waited, hoping I was wrong.

Joey trembled. His hand clenched mine, tighter than I could ever remember 
even when he was frantic and tormented by orgasm. His voice was almost 
incoherent, but the truth still came out. It had waited to be heard for 
two years. I could feel his heart pounding inside his narrow chest. No 
wonder he was frightened.

All he said was, "Mr. Hardy, he was nice and...Mom used to take me to see 
him,...  so,... so we could,....have, have h-h-have s-s-sex."

"Oh, my god!"



Epilog



That was when I finally figured it out. The brilliant detective, the 
Tribune's genius for solving crime, 'Sherlock Holmes of the Mid-West', 
finally put the pieces together in his head and came up with his own 
worst nightmare. So much for living in Paradise. It was hell, just like 
anywhere else.

It took another two days of busy work on Candy Cay before I was ready to 
meet with Detective Brown. It took that long to make some phone calls, 
fill in the missing gaps, find the evidence by tracking credit card 
receipts. My life with Joey, our life together, had been turned upside 
down, yet our love persisted throughout it all. The proof of how much I 
loved Joey? Well, for those two days when I wasn't on the telephone I was 
making love to him. That was the way our loved worked. Yes, there was a 
spiritual side to it. I had only to be thinking of Joey and my heart 
began to beat faster. For most of my awake life, I thought of nothing but 
Joey. However, love also has a physical side. There were always lots of 
kisses and hugs that quickly become more intimate. 

On candy Cay, we were freed from inhibition and society's restrictions, 
and our love blossomed to new levels. Once, I even fucked him in front of 
Williams. Joey was into it as much as I was. Then, we lay back and 
watched as Williams ploughed Carlos into oblivion. The boy made a lot of 
noise throughout, but it was the sort of noise that said `more', not 
`less'. It was the same noise that Joey made, a string of little whimpers 
and groans that sounded like a boat being washed back and forth against a 
dock.

As I expected, Detective Brown was the classic public servant with a low 
IQ. He had difficulty believing anything that wasn't his idea, even when 
it was laid out in front of him, but then, to be fair, he only had half 
of the pieces that I had found. Some of those pieces involved Joey and 
what happened on Candy Cay. Other information pertaining directly to the 
case I also held back. I made sure that he would never be able to find 
out without my cooperation. Brown had Landers arrested in New York and 
then flown back to Georgetown on an extradition order. Then, with the 
prosecutor at the table he soon discovered the gaps in his case. It was 
only then that I made my deal. My evidence in return for some of his 
evidence. No questions asked, just hand it over. The DNA samples and my 
greasy fingerprints from underneath the boat's gunwale disappeared into 
the bureaucratic jungle and later sank into 300 feet of water. I told 
them how Kevin Landers murdered Vincent, not why. Neither did I voice my 
opinion on the `shark bite' on Vincente's thigh. Fernando had done that 
with his penknife early in the morning in order to remove the only 
connection between Vincente and the dozens of other boys who had passed 
through Candy cay. Landers got life in prison, island-style. Eventually, 
I got Joey's yellow swimming costume back. Life returned to normal, in so 
far as sex three times a day is normal.

I never pressed Joey to find out more about his relationship with Robert 
Hardy Junior. All I knew was that he hadn't been a virgin when I re-
entered his life two years earlier. By that point, I was beyond caring. 
Love does that, you know. I forgave him everything, if there was anything 
to forgive. Instead, I blamed his mother for everything, but maybe, in a 
moment of honesty, I wondered whether she had been doing him a favor. 
From all that I discovered, Bob Hardy seemed like a nice person. He was 
the sort of man that a nine-year-old boy could easily fall in love with. 
There were far worse men around for Joey to be intimate with.

On the other hand, Kevin Landers was psychotic, in the same way that any 
serial killer is psychotic. His excuse for murder was that he'd been 
sexually abused as a child. Not loved, but abused. He claimed he had been 
anally raped in a family three-way, by his grandfather and his father. 
Maybe it was true. It sounded more like an excuse.

At age thirty-six, Landers joined the Children of God, a Fundamentalist 
sect whose sole purpose was to eradicate child abuse by any means 
possible. He worked part-time at a New York mission for homeless 
children. That was where he found out about Candy Cay. It happened when 
Jeff was recruited to go there. Landers visited a few months later and 
made contact with a dozen other men. He began to track them down after 
they returned to wherever they came from.  Along the way, he met up Joey, 
then Jaivin Navarro. A day or two later, he executed Robert Hardy Junior 
with a bullet at close range in the head.  To complete his extermination 
project, he went after Joey, smashed his skull with a baseball while he 
slept, then killed his mother. There was a perfect match on those two 
bullets, another thing that Detective Brown never knew. Joey's partial 
amnesia stayed that way. His memory of meeting landers and Bob Hardy's 
house was nothing more than a blurred face and the hypocritical tone of 
voice that he had heard again when he walked though the parking lot of 
the Georgetown dock.

I could not prove that Landers also murdered Graham Day and Jeff, or that 
the other missing or recently deceased men had anything to do with Kevin 
Landers. As far as I could tell, only the German survived of the men who 
had been at Candy Cay when Landers was there the first time. One thing 
was certain, and that was all that mattered as far as I was concerned. 
Landers murdered Vincente, and he probably would have killed Steve Adams 
too, except that a convenient opportunity did not present itself before 
Adams returned to Candy Cay. I had the credit card receipts to show that 
after murdering Vincent, Landers left Georgetown and flew to New York. 
More than likely, it was then that he strangled Peter Jacobs, one of my 
charter passengers who had taken a day off from the activities of Candy 
cay to do some deep-sea fishing. I didn't like Jacobs very much. Robert 
Gaynor I liked, and so did Adam. The last thing I heard, Gaynor had left 
his wife of fifteen years and was spending an entire month with Adam at 
Candy Cay. Joey wasn't sure who was the luckiest of the two. 

After the trial, I went back to my charter business and devoted my life 
to loving Joey. For the next few months, we fucked like crazy. It was 
like we were making up for ten lost years. However, it was more than 
that. I think I was proving to myself that his earlier experience with 
Bob Hardy did not stand between us. Not that I resented what had happened 
to Joey in Chicago. If it hadn't been Bob Hardy, more than likely it 
would have been someone else. 

It's now almost a year after Vincent was murdered on the beach near 
Fernando's Bar. It seems like a long time ago, but not much has changed. 
That's life in the Exumas. We live day to day, or night to night. I'm 
happier than I've ever been. And Joey? Well, if you didn't know by now, 
he's 100% gay.  I have my own real live live-in chicken; that's b-o-y as 
in 'boy-pussy', but, I'm repeating myself, aren't I? Joey's growing up 
before my eyes. The signs of approaching puberty are definitely visible 
in a still hairless scrotum that's filling out nicely with two plump if 
undersized balls. More than likely they'll be producing sperm within a 
few months, but that's thanks to Doctor Lamar's injections. Despite the 
almost total lack of pubic hair, he has about three strands, sexually 
maturity is fast approaching for my son. He says that he likes being the 
way he is and he talks about not getting the next round of injections. 
I'm not sure about that. It's something of a conundrum, I suppose. Not 
that it matters either way. I love Joey just as he is. I always will.

Joey and I still eat a lot of tuna because I'm not going to waste what my 
customers catch, but somehow we always manage to celebrate Friday with 
barbequed jerk chicken at Fernando's bar. Sometimes we did more than eat 
chicken, sharing the bedroom at the back of the bar with Fernando and 
Roddy until late at night when Joey and I amble back along the beach to 
our private cove. And one more thing, we finally got the money to have 
Conundrum's air-conditioner replaced. Joey did it for the two of us.  He 
earned the money all by himself. However, it wasn't the way that you're 
thinking. Sure, it would only have taken him a few days on Candy Cay. 
Instead, he spent most of two months working in Grendals' Store after 
school finsihed for the day. I'm still not sure why he did it, because 
when we have sex, we always turn the air conditioner off. He says that he 
enjoys slipping and sliding over me, but perhaps he wants to prove 
something to himself amd me. If he's trying to prove how much he loves 
me, he doesn't have to! That's why we fuck so often. A long time ago I 
realized that the more you love someone, the more you need to make love 
to them.

The End.