Date: Mon, 24 Dec 2001 19:06:26 -0800
From: gymhunk <gymhunk@msn.com>
Subject: Black and White, Chapter 66

			      All Disclaimers


			      BLACK AND WHITE

			  Chapter 66--The Getaway

	After dinner, everyone was too full of food and drink to consider a
roll in the hay.  We got a rain check from Donnie and Trevor for later in
the week, perhaps.  We didn't get even that much from Jeremy and Preston.
Instead of some "hide the wiener" action, Preston pulled out his genealogy.
We went through most of his book, comparing it to my computerized version
of our mutual family tree, making corrections and additions as needed to
both sets of records (after comparing sources for the data and determining
which were better).  Dave and Jeremy did the dishes and talked about
male-to-male relationships.  They thought they had to be more entertained
than we were, but they didn't know how crazy a couple of amateur
genealogists can get, pouring over two databases dealing with the same
families.

	Preston and Jeremy went to bed early, after making out on the sofa
for an hour while we channel surfed.  Jeremy had called the Lexus
dealership to arrange a few days of vacation.  As he'd earned it, they'd
agreed.  By the way the two youngsters were working each other over, I was
beginning to wonder if Jeremy would go back to work at all this week.

	In bed, Dave asked me if I were ready for a vacation.  I looked a
little puzzled at him as we were on a "permanent vacation".  "I mean
getting away from it all, you know, run away from home, get out of our
rut?"

	"Well, sure, but do you want to spend that kinda money?"

	"We have it to burn, Mike," he smiled.  "We've made enough in the
last three months on our investments to nearly pay the taxes on the
settlement."  I knew that wasn't true, but we'd made a big dent in our tax
obligations for the year.

	"Okay, so whatcha got in mind?"

	"I haven't thought about it very much.  How about a mini-vacation,
say to, uh, Victoria, B.C. or Banff?  Just some time away, Mike.  This
isn't our honeymoon, though.  That'll be much more lavish and expensive,"
he laughed.  "Whatcha think?"

	"I like the idea, but I'd like to think about a destination a
little more, though.  How about if we give Brad a call in the morning and
ask him what kinda of package deals he has for a quick getaway?"

	"Always the bargain hunter!" Dave chortled.

	"No point in burning money we don't have to," I chided him,
somewhat hurt at his unkind portrayal of my parsimonious spending habits.
I thought of it as reasonable, not cheap.  But, Dave saw it as
non-spontaneous.  He wasn't being cruel about it, but it stung,
nonetheless.  Perhaps, he was right.  And that's why it stung.

	The next morning, Jeremy and Preston joined us for breakfast.
Preston was subdued, as though he had something on his mind.  "Uh, I'm not
sure how to say this, so I'll just say it," he began.  "Jeremy and I have
been having a wonderful time together, and I'll never be able to thank you
enough for introducing us.  But, I hope you won't be too put out with me,
if Jeremy and I wanted to spend more time together, uh, at his place."

	  "We'll see you again before you fly back to Salt Lake City, won't
we?" Dave asked.

	"Oh, sure, we aren't going to ignore the rest of the world,"
Preston quickly assured us.  "We'd just like to spend more time together,
that's all."

	"Well, we were thinking of a quick getaway for ourselves, anyway,"
I volunteered.  "We'll just do it sooner, if Brad can find us a fun place
to go, not too far away."

	"Don't let us slow you down," Jeremy insisted.  "I could always
take Pres to the airport on Saturday.  So, don't worry about when you can
leave or want to come back.  Enjoy yourselves and leave Pres to me," he
grinned, giving Preston a big hug and a peck on the cheek.

	"You sure you don't mind?" Dave asked.  "Well, that was a stupid
question," he laughed, realizing that they could easily spend the remainder
of the week in bed with each other and not give another thought to us.

	"We'll be fine," Preston agreed.  "Take off, enjoy!"

	Preston gathered up his suitcase contents in a flash, joining
Jeremy at the door.  "Thanks for being so understanding, guys," Jeremy
smiled, giving each of us a kiss and a grope.  "After I ditch this little
number Saturday, I'll be back, darkening your doorstep, again!"

	"You'd better call first.  We may be out of town, sampling men in
other cities," I warned him with a laugh.

	Dave called Brad, told him what we wanted to do, how long we wanted
to be gone (anywhere from three to seven days), and how soon we wanted to
leave (which was tomorrow, if possible).  Brad promised to call us back
within the hour to give us some travel options.  We were lucky to find him
in.  We'd forgotten that it was the 4th of July.

	We were in luck.  He called back 30 minutes later.  There was a
loosely arranged tour group hitting all the little known interesting places
in Vancouver and the surrounding area.  We'd have to cruise through Stanley
Park, of course, and take the cable car up to Grouse Mountain.  Staying at
the Parkhill Hotel, we would be in the middle of the gay district.  The
nightlife there was legendary.  If we chose, we could tack on an extra
three days and ferry over to Victoria, B.C. to tour the Butchart Rose
Gardens and Government House.  Additional details would be sent over by
messenger no later than tomorrow morning.

	Robert and Gary didn't forget it was the 4th of July, though.  They
invited us to another barbeque at their place for later in the afternoon.
Of course, Preston and Jeremy were on the invitation list, but we could
only leave a message.  They seemed to be busy or weren't home.  You can
take a guess as to which.

	Robert's brother Ray and his new boyfriend (Joe) were in town and
staying with them.  Ray had given up his apartment here and was moving to
Las Vegas to be with Joe, the landscaper, and to start his new job at the
casino.  Joe came down to see how his landscaping was surviving at our
place as well as at Kurt and Gene's.  He was satisfied that his work was
thriving and that we'd been taking adequate care of the new plants and
shrubs.  But, his hot, Italian, daddy looks made our dicks stiffen.

	He looked at us oddly, then, smiled.  "Sorry, guys.  This bootie is
off-limits for a while.  Ray and I have decided to be monogamous, at least
for a while.  We'll see how long it lasts, but we need to try.  If anyone
were to get me to stray, it would be either of you."

	Although we looked disappointed, Dave said, "We wish you luck in
keeping to your monogamy promise to each other.  Most gay men would love to
fuck with either or both of you at any time.  This will be harder than you
think."

	"Perhaps for Ray, but I don't think it'll be as tough for me.  I've
been around the block and have done a lot of men.  Ray hasn't," Joe
revealed.  "But, this was his idea, and I'm willing to go with it.  We just
have to be honest with each other all the time."

	"How about a kiss for good luck, then?" I suggested with a leer.

	"You are SO bad!" Joe laughed.  "A chaste kiss, none of that stuff
that gets me so hot when I'm with you guys."

	"What stuff?" Dave asked innocently, as he ground his bulging
crotch into Joe's ass and I kissed Joe and hugged both of them.

	"Uh, maybe, you should wish me luck when Ray's here," Joe
backpedaled.  "I'm not sure I could trust myself with both of you coming on
to me, especially with that big dick knocking on my back door."  Dave
backed away, smiling.

	"Okay, we'll be good," I volunteered.  "But, make sure we're the
first ones you call if you should decide that monogamy isn't going to work
in your relationship."  We gave him more respectable kisses, but had to pat
his hard, round, daddy ass.  I remembered how hot it was to fuck that furry
Italian butthole.  From the look of Dave's swollen crotch, he was
remembering the same thing.

	Bringing another summer salad, we joined the boys for dinner at
Gary and Robert's.  We never did get a response from Jeremy and Preston.
But, Kurt and Gene joined us, along with Phil and Farrell and Nick and
Mark.  As would be expected, the conversation turned to Junior and Ben.

	"How'd they do together?" Kurt asked.  "I know they left Mike and
Dave's party that was thrown for Preston a little early."

	"We didn't see much of them, but we sure heard a lot," Gary
laughed.  "That Texas cowboy was ridin' that boy like he'd never get
another piece of ass in his life.  Lots of 'Yee Haw' was goin' on.  I know
he says he can cum and recover in ten minutes as often as your ass can
stand it.  From my experience, I have not reason to doubt him.  But, Ben
took him on and wore him out."

	"Now, I'm not one to gossip," Robert started, and we all laughed,
"but, I think that Texas longhorn took a long, black dick up his butt
before dinner on Sunday.  He sure did walk funny for a while, and he sat
real carefully at the table for dinner."

	"It could be that his dick was sore or his balls hurt from making
all that dick gravy in quantities he's probably never had to produce
before," Dave allowed.  We laughed, again.

	"Not fuckin' likely," Gary smiled.  "I asked Ben if he got what he
needed from Junior and he said that he'd gotten everything he'd wanted, and
more."

	"Come to think of it, one of the sessions in the late afternoon was
particularly noisy.  Remember how we had to turn up the television?" Robert
recalled laughing.  "And I don't think it was Ben makin' all the noise,
either."

	"Ben's dick's not particularly thick, but it's long enough to make
you take notice," I revealed.  "And a virgin ass like Junior's WOULD
notice!"

	The conversation turned to how Jeremy and Preston were getting
along.  We suggested that their absence provided a better answer than we
could.

	After dinner, we bid them all good night, giving Joe and Ray
special hugs and kisses to remember us by as they prepared to leave for
their new home in Las Vegas.  Joe told us to come visit them soon, as they
were looking for a home to share, instead of his apartment.  We were
welcome to stay with them, anytime, they'd insisted.  But, Uncle Clay owns
a very large house where we would be staying when we did go there for a
visit.  However, it wasn't appropriate that we reveal that now.  In either
case, we'd be staying with monogamists.

	As we'd ditched our clothes to crawl into bed, I pulled Dave to me
and kissed him.  "You have something on your mind, don't ya?" I whispered
nuzzling his neck.

	"I'm pretty transparent to you, aren't I," Dave sighed.

	"Only to me."

	"Well, I was thinking about their monogamy, Ray and Joe's," Dave
began.  "Is it time for us to look at that option, again?"

	I pulled back from him and looked into his dark, smiling eyes.  "No
time like the present to find out," I replied.  "Why don't you start?  Tell
me all the reasons that are going through your head that make you think
about it, positive and negative."

	He rolled me on to my side, then, snuggled into my back.  He spoke
softly, kissing my shoulders and neck for emphasis as he made one point
after another.  His thick tubesteak pulsed against my ass trench, but only
half-heartedly.  Dave's focus was on monogamy, not sex (at the moment,
anyway).

	"So, there you have it," he concluded.  "All the reasons why and
why not."

	"Okay, let's try to take them one at a time and see how you feel
about them or if they are truly important deal-breakers," I suggested,
wiggling my ass tentatively into his awakening crotch.  His mind had
wandered, but not by much.

	"Gawd!  I love you so much," he whispered.  "Every time we get into
bed like this, I can't help but want to make love to you for hours on end.
So, to get this discussion going, I gotta pull away from that hungry ass of
yours."

	He rolled over.  It was my turn to snuggle into his back, and talk
to him.  "I love you, too, Dave.  I know I don't say it often enough, but I
do truly love you.  And if you wanna bang my ass all day and all night, I'm
okay with that.  I love how you make love to me.  No one else knows how, or
has ever known how, like you do."

	He wiggled his high, round, muscle butt into my thickening dick.
"But, we need to talk about monogamy right now, Mike.  Much as I want you
to fuck me now as much as I wanted to fuck you earlier, let's stay on
subject here."

	"Okay, but, this is only a momentary truce," I chuckled.  "You and
I have unfinished butt bangin' business to conduct."

	"Fair enough, but let's get back to monogamy before someone gets
seriously molested."

	"I'm up for molesting!"

	"MIKE!" he laughed.

	"Okay, okay, I'll be good, if you will."

	"Deal!" he agreed.  His hard butt stopped grasping at my dick and
settled down.

	"Okay, let's take some of your points one at a time, in no
particular order," I began.

	"Okay."

	"Let's see.  We're fucking around a lot.  We seem to have sex
partners coming out our ears, and that raises the prospect of disease among
other things," I said.

	"Right, but I think there are several issues buried in that
summation," Dave offered.  "For instance, are we fucking around too much
and not giving US enough time together to renew our bonds of love?  Are we
hiding behind sex with others to disguise some lack of fulfillment in each
other?  Are we being indiscriminate and fucking with nearly any hot man
that comes along?  And, are we just lucky so far that we haven't contracted
any diseases?"

	"Wow!  That's a mouthful. What do you think, Dave?"

	"Well, I've always thought that sex with you was and is the best.
Others are good at it, but you ring all my bells.  There are times when I
miss our special times together because we're fucking with everyone else."

	"So, how should we address that?"

	"Monogamy is one way."

	"Yes, but it's a pretty extreme way to get into my pants more
frequently," I softly laughed.

	"Yeah, and a very selfish way to get to monogamy," he lamented.
"So, that's not a good reason.  Perhaps, we need to devote a day to just us
(or maybe, just an evening) where we spend time with only us, no
interruptions, no friends?"

	"That has merit," I agreed.  "I like the idea.  We do need quality
time for just us, instead of letting others direct it for us.  Because
almost all of our friends have jobs and want to party and get together on
weekends, I recommend that we pick a week day or evening that we hold
apart, just for us."

	"How about Wednesday, unless it falls on a holiday, and then we
select another day in the same week?"

	"Okay, that works.  So, what else is in that mass of questions?" I
pressed.

	"Disease.  We need to get screened again for HIV.  We should be
much more careful about who we suck off, if the guy's a total stranger,"
Dave suggested.  I sighed.  "Well, it's a start!"

	"Yeah, I know it is, and I agree with you, Dave.  I was just
wondering if we'd be able to do it."

	"Well, we can try."

	"Okay, so what next?  Do you think we're hiding behind sex with
other guys to disguise some lack in our relationship?"

	"Well, no.  I think that was a reaction to not getting enough of
you often enough, Mike."

	"That was pretty easy.  You sure?"

	"I think so.  I'll give it more thought if I feel that way at some
point in the future."

	"Okay, so what else?"

	"Uh, well, I can't really think of anything.  How do you feel about
it?  You don't have any lingering issues about sharing me with other men?"

	"No, I'm okay with that," I mused slowly.  "I get jealous once in a
while when some guy really gets off on your big dick or hot ass.  But
you've been so good about how Kurt and Randy like to get into my pants, I
can't complain about the occasional man who loses his control when he gets
some of that monster dick of yours."

	"Yeah, as long as you keep coming back to me, I'm happy."

	"Just say something when a guy like Kurt gets a little too close or
possessive, Dave," I asked.  "And remember that you're the man I love, not
Kurt or Randy or Brad or some other hung stud du jour."

	"It's always nice to hear," Dave smiled.

	"So, you okay with our non-monogamy?"

	"Yeah, sure.  I just think we need to revisit the subject once in a
while."

	"We still should head down to the clinic tomorrow and get that HIV
test, though," I reminded him.  "I think we're both serious about that."

	"I know.  But, we'll have to do it early.  We're flying out to
Vancouver, B.C. at noon tomorrow."

	We were the only male patients at the clinic when we arrived at
8:30 in the morning.  After filling out the lengthy questionnaire about our
sexual habits and other paperwork, we were individually interviewed by one
of the HIV counselors.  "We do that in case one or the other partner has
something to divulge that they'd rather not have their partner know about,"
he'd confided to both of us separately.  "And from the looks of it, you've
been busy boys!  You say you've fucked around with about a hundred
different men since your last test some 18 months ago, Mike?" he smiled.  I
nodded.  "The people who designed these questionnaires didn't have your
particular situation in mind.  So, let me get this down as you practice it.
You fuck each other bareback about equally, but never get fucked bareback
by other men.  You always use a condom when fucking or getting fucked by
other men.  But, you do suck other guys off.  Am I correct so far?"

	"Yeah, but we've fucked a couple of other guys bareback, and we had
a couple of condoms break a few months back with Dave's brother," I said,
going for full disclosure.

	"No shit?  You fucked his brother?"

	"We both did."

	"Damn!  Close family, I guess," he smiled.

	"Well, not to put too fine a point on it, there's another brother
of his that we fuck with, too."

	"Very close family," he laughed.  "You know to be very aware of
your oral health if you're gonna blow some dude and swallow his load?"  I
nodded, again.  "I gave the same warning to Dave, considering your mutual
love for cum.  So, anything you wanna ask or tell me about, Mike?  Other
sexual practices I should know about?" the interviewer asked.

	"I can't think of anything, unless rimming is on your list of
sexual practices."

	"It sure is!" he laughed.  "You go for the clean or aromatic ones?"

	"Clean.  Well, for the most part, anyway."

	"I love rimming a hot, clean ass, too," he confided.  "That
boyfriend of yours has one fine bootie."

	"Don't I know it!"

	"One of the great things about this job is that I get to talk about
sex all day long.  But, the big drawback is finding a hot couple like you
and not being able to do anything about it," he sighed.  "Professional
ethics can be such a pain in the ass."

	"Well, you could 'accidentally' run into us at the gym.  That's
where we get most of our action, outside of each other, that is," I grinned
evilly at him.

	"Oh, yeah, you did mention it in your questionnaire," he mused with
a wicked grin right back at me.

	"Uh, this isn't gonna get back to the management there, is it?" I
wondered with a worried look.

	"Nah, unless there is some specific 'Typhoid Mary' thing going on
there, we talk to the men who are having the sex, not the place where it
takes place," he said.

	"Anything I should know about what's goin' on out there?" I asked,
wondering if there was a new strain of HIV or syphilis or gonorrhea.

	"Only that your boyfriend really loves you, Mike.  He was so
nervous when he came in here.  This is all kinda new to him, isn't it?"

	"Yeah, I sorta brought him outta the closet a year ago," I
confessed.

	"He's still not completely comfortable with the gay thing, but he's
doin' great, considering he's only been queer for a year!" he laughed.

	"He's very special to me in lots of ways," I confided.

	"Big dick, huh?"

	"Yeah, enormous!" I blurted out before I could stop myself.  I was
probably doing some bragging on Dave, but I guess it didn't hurt anything.

	"Had to be.  His type always does."

	"Meaning?"

	"Married, handsome, hot body, totally in love with his boyfriend,"
he sighed.

	"Does it really show that much?  I guess I'm too close to see it
that well."

	"The love?  Oh, yeah.  Written all over his face and his demeanor.
The guy's crazy for ya," he said.  "I'd give anything to have a hot man
like that in my bed every night."

	"Well, you have to keep kissing all the frog until you find your
prince."

	"Yeah, I guess so," he said resignedly.  "If you have no further
questions or clarifications for the questionnaire, I'll send you on your
way.  We'll call with the negative results in two weeks.  If the results
come back positive, you'll get a visit from one of our specialists in
breaking bad news.  Hopefully, you'll never see him."

	"Yeah, hopefully," I rose, shook his hand, and left with a smiling
Dave.

	"You're some piece of work," I smiled at him as I put my arms
around him and pulled him close.  The elevator whirred to a stop.  "I love
you, Dave."

	The doors opened.  "I love you, too, Mike," he replied.  Three gay
men stood aside for us to leave the elevator.  Dave kissed me full on the
lips, one hand on my ass, the other between my shoulder blades, pulling me
tightly to him.

	"Gawd!  How I love fags who know how to love each other," one of
them sighed.

	"Oh, get on the elevator, Mary.  These married men don't wanna know
about your revolving door of boyfriends," another cracked.  "That's why
you're here, again!"

	We smiled at them.  "He has a platinum card at this clinic, he's
been here so many times," the third one confided.  "Lord knows where he
finds the gutter trash he blows," he added pushing the others on to the
elevator after we'd exited.

	"At the local tearooms.  Where else does one find quality, bad
boys?  A new husband every day!" the first gay man responded as the doors
shut.

	"If he didn't like that anonymous type of sex so much, he would've
changed long ago, and not be such a permanent fixture here," I said to
Dave, shaking my head.  "But, it is a wake-up call for us.  You never know
what you'll get when you fuck around with men you don't know.  Even then,
you can be surprised."

	"Yeah, if you really think about it, his anonymous sex with bad
boys is just as anonymous as our sex at the gym.  We've been lucky," he
summed.

	"That we have."

	We took a taxi to the airport, arriving an hour before departure.
Several of our friends had offered to take us there, but it was the middle
of the day on Thursday and they all worked full-time.  The exception would
have been Jeremy and Preston.  But they were "too busy" to have answered
the phone, if we'd thought to call them.

	The flight departed on time.  We reached cruising altitude and the
air host and hostesses served drinks and munchies.  After the plane had
been served once, they came around for seconds and thirds.  One
particularly rowdy passenger had already had too many drinks when he
boarded.  He was demanding another, NOW.  The stewardess tried to reason
with him as she told him that he'd already had enough.  He could have as
much as he wanted after we landed in about 20 more minutes, at the airport
bar.  He wasn't to be put off; he became nastier.

	"Sir, if you don't restrain yourself, we'll have the Canadian
Police greet you when we land," she finally said evenly.  She pushed the
cart further down the aisle, ready to serve other passengers (or pick up
their trash).  We were sitting two rows in front of the inebriate.

	"This is gonna get ugly," Dave muttered.  "We're gonna have to help
her.  The male attendant's in the forward part of the plane and isn't big
enough to take that guy on, but we are."  I gripped my plastic cup and
gulped the contents.  We returned our tray tables to the upright position
and looked behind us just as the drunk took a swing at the woman attendant,
knocking her sprawling against the service cart.  He stood menacingly over
her, then, grabbed her by the hair.

	"I said, give me a fuckin' drink, Bitch!  Or I'll make you and this
fuckin' airline fuckin' regret it!" he roared.  The guy was at least six
feet tall and weighed close to 240, but it wasn't muscle.  Dave rose
quickly and spun about.  I followed on his heels.

	With two strong hands, Dave grabbed the drunken passenger and
shoved him back into his seat.  "You move from there, again, and I'll break
your fuckin' head!" Dave snarled.  He turned to help me assist the clearly
dazed stewardess.  The man started to rise drunkenly.  Dave shoved him back
into his seat, again.  "You don't understand English?" Dave shouted.
"SIT!" and he shoved him back down, again.

	"Get your fuckin' hands off me, Sambo," the drunk slurred, swatting
at Dave's arms that had pinned him to his seat.  The passenger behind the
drunk grabbed the offender by the head and held him tightly to the
headrest.

	"You just don't get it, do you, Fuckface?" Dave grinned
maliciously, now less than six inches from the guy's face.  "You've just
interfered with the functioning of an official airline employee, AND
threatened the safety of this aircraft.  You're in deep shit!"  The guy
took a swing at Dave and connected to his solar plexus.  Dave had the wind
knocked out of him momentarily.

	I rushed in and grabbed the guy by the crotch and twisted with one
hand while pushing him hard on the chest.  I had a good, strong grip on his
nuts from the way the guy howled.  "You'll be a soprano if you so much as
blink," I spat at him.  He glared at me, grimaced, and tried to pull away,
grabbing my bulging arms.  Dave had recovered his breath enough to loosen
the guy's grip on me and press the guy's hands down to the armrest, pinning
them.

	Other passengers were involved now, including the steward.  Two
passengers held his shoulders.  "You have anything to bind him with like
tape, an extension cord, or even a cord from a coffee pot?"  The steward
ran back to the galley to find something.  One of the passengers
volunteered the recharging cord from his shaver, another a belt.  "Stand
him up," Dave suggested to two of the passengers who were helping control
him.  "Turn him around."  Dave bound his hands with the cord and hobbled
his feet with the belt, but not without a struggle.

	"You can't do this to me.  I'm a citizen and I have rights," the
drunk shouted.

	"You got nothin', Fuckhead!" the copilot informed him over my
shoulder.  He'd appeared suddenly behind me.  "Take him to the back of the
plane.  The captain knows we have an unruly passenger and has already
alerted the airport to have the Mounties meet us as soon as we land in a
secure area.  You okay?" he asked of Dave, then others.

	"Yeah, just knocked the wind out of me for a moment," Dave smiled.
"I'm nearly as good as new already," he added, shoving the drunk ahead of
him.  The cabin attendants had already moved the four passengers who had
been in the back of the plane to other seats.

	"You can't do this to me!  I'll sue your asses off!" the inebriated
passenger proclaimed to anyone who'd listen.

	"Shut the fuck up and listen to me, you worthless piece of shit!"
the copilot whispered menacingly.  "You are gonna be met by the Royal
Canadian Mounted Police.  Under Canadian law (and we are flying over Canada
now), you've committed an act of air piracy.  The American Consulate will
be sending a representative to the airport to assist the police and make
sure that whatever rights you have remaining will be guarded.  However, I
know the staff at the Consulate.  You'll be lucky if they don't stick your
ass in jail and conveniently lose the key.  The Consulate doesn't like
rowdy Americans who break Canadian laws almost as much as the Canadian's
dislike it.  So, shut the fuck up and enjoy the ride."

	"You can use my belt to tie his chest to the seat," one of the
stouter passengers offered.  The copilot took the offered belt and fastened
it around the drunk's chest and around the back of his seat.

	He turned to us and said, "If he gives you any crap, sit on him.
Don't break anything, but make sure he's being a good boy.  If you need any
help, I'm sure you can find several other passengers who'll aid you."  He
got nods from several of the other men hovering nearby.  "Okay, then, I'll
be back to check on this miscreant every few minutes.  However, I'll have
to be in the cockpit for the landing.  Keep this jerk strapped in and sit
on either side of him.  If he wiggles, convince him not to," he grinned at
me.  Evidently, someone had mentioned my crotch grab.

	Two of the burlier passengers sat across the aisle from us.
Another two sat in front of us, with frequent glances over their shoulders
to be sure our malcontent was being a good boy.  He knew we'd beat the shit
out of him, if he acted up, again.  He was a VERY good boy.

	The plane landed without further adventure (with the copilot
visiting us twice more), but taxied away from the main terminal to one of
the maintenance buildings where we were met by several police cars and
other government sedans.  From the looks of things, the press had gotten
wind of it, too.  Two vans had satellite dishes positioned with cameras
rolling.

	OY VEY!  So much for a quiet getaway to Vancouver!

	The jet engines spooled down and the cabin door in the front
opened.  Two of the biggest police officers I'd ever seen walked down the
aisle toward us with the copilot leading the way.  None of the passengers
moved.  They'd already been told that they'd be escorted off the plane for
questioning, and to remain in their seats until our problem boy was in
custody.

	"You've been a bad boy, I understand," the officer in charge
smiled, addressing the man between us.

	"I didn't do nothing!" the guy snarled.

	"That's not the way I hear it, Sir," the officer leaned in, taking
off the extension cord, replacing it with handcuffs.  "Let's see, air
piracy, assault on an airline employee performing her duties..."

	"That's two counts of assault, Officer," Dave volunteered.

	"Oh?"

	"Yeah, he pushed her into the cart causing her to lose her balance
and topple into it, and he pulled her hair when he insisted on another
drink," Dave contributed.  Others nodded assent and murmured agreement.

	"Plus assault on one of the passengers.  Him!" one of the
passengers volunteered, pointing to Dave.

	"That so?" the officer grinned at Dave.  Dave nodded.  "Well, well.
Aren't you a piece of work?"

	"You two gentleman can come out of there.  We'll take him from
here," the second officer said.  We moved out of the way, with one of the
officers holding the man's head against the headrest.  I guess he thought
the guy might bite Dave on the ass.  Nice ass, too, I reminded myself.

	"I'm sure this extension cord belongs to someone as well as these
belts?" the first officer said as he unfastened the belt holding the man in
the seat.

	"The extension cord's mine," said one of the passengers who'd been
in front of us for the last part of the trip.  Two other passengers
reclaimed their belts.  Four more officers had crowded on to the plane and
were standing at strategically appropriate places.  Two of the officers
were women.

	"You have any carry on baggage, Sir?" the first officer asked our
"friend".  He nodded and indicated one of the overhead bins that now stood
open.  One of the officers retrieved it, and with the assistance of one
other officer, escorted the drunk off the plane.

	The captain said over the intercom, "If you have a connecting
flight that leaves within the next two hours, please raise your hand, so we
can get you off the plane first."  A baker's dozen of hands went in the
air.  "Understand that if you don't have a ticket that says that, you'll be
considered an accomplice to air piracy."  One hand went down, quickly.

	"The Bitch!" I spat in a whisper.

	The first officer smiled.  "She'll be the LAST one to be questioned
and processed out.  The officious ones like that who think they're better
than everyone else and should go to the front of the line really piss me
off."  Dave and I smiled.  We liked this guy already.  "Those of you who
helped subdue this man need to come with me, please.  We'll get your
statements and get you on your way.  If you're traveling with someone else,
have them join you."  There were six of us, plus three companions who left
with the officers.

	As we exited the plane, we were greeted with shouted questions from
the media.  We ignored all of them, but the cameras were merciless in their
pursuit of us.

	"Which one of you subdued the guy?" one reporter shouted.  We
ignored him again, but several of the passengers stole a glance our
direction.  Shit!  That surely gave it away.

	"I think they've figured it out," I stage whispered to Dave as
group of microphones were thrust in our faces, cameras staring at us.  The
police pushed the media out of the way as we walked into the secure hangar.

	"The airline and the Royal Canadian Mounted Police will issue a
join statement in a few minutes.  Please be patient while we get statements
from the passengers.  You'll be briefed as soon as possible," an airline
official shouted to the media.  "This way ladies and gentlemen of the
press.  I'll tell you as much as I can, but over here."  He was roundly
ignored.  His pleadings didn't prevent them from shouting more questions at
us until the door was closed.

	"Vermin!" snarled one of the officers under his breath.

	The first officer who'd come on the plane (Sinclair was the name on
his blue tag) took the six men (and three companions) to a room off to the
left.  We were individually interviewed by police officers who took our
sworn statements.  The dozen passengers with connecting flights were taken
to the right.  Other passengers were asked to wait in the central area
where chairs and tables had been erected.

	"Okay," smiled Officer Sinclair at Dave (after he'd brought the six
of us back together, again).  "Please tell me what happened from the time
the accused started getting nasty.  The rest of you listen carefully to
what he says.  If you have anything to add, make a note of it on the pad in
front of you.  Then, when Mister, uh..."

	"Carey."

	"...Mr. Carey finishes, let me know what you have to add.  Okay?"
We nodded.  "Let's get this over with and get you on your ways, then."

	Dave began his description of what had transpired on the plane.
There were nods of agreement from the other passengers at several points.
When Dave finished, Officer Sinclair asked if anyone wanted to add
clarification."

	One of the passengers raised his hand.  "I heard him, the accused,
say after Mr.  Carey pushed him back in his seat, after the guy assaulted
the stewardess, 'Get your hands off me, Sambo'.  I believe in Canada we
call that racial intimidation."

	"That true?  He said that?" Officer Sinclair asked Dave.  Dave
nodded, embarrassed.  "If it had been me, I'd have nailed the guy with a
fist in the mouth."

	"I didn't see any point in giving him grounds for suing me," Dave
said.  "Lord knows, I thought about it, though."

	The officer smiled.  "Fast thinking, and very smart.  We'll add
that to his list of charges.  Any other points of fact that we need to
add?" he asked the rest of us.

	"Uh, Officer, I believe the accused said, 'Get your fuckin' hands
off me, Sambo'," one of the passenger's wives said with an embarrassed
titter.  We laughed with her.  It was so strange coming from a woman of her
age and obvious breeding.

	"Anyone else hear that?" the officer prompted.  Several of us
volunteered that her version was the correct one.

"Okay, then, we'll add that correction.  Sit tight.  I'll get the
stenographers to type this up right away, as well as your individual
statements.

	About ten minutes later, the statements were ready to be signed.
"What's gonna happen to this guy?" I asked Officer Sinclair as he handed us
our statements to sign.

	He grimaced.  "Probably a fine and a slap on the hands," he sighed.
"But, he could get one of our favorite hangin' magistrates and get some
jail time and a BIG fine.  With all the other charges we're heaping on him,
we might get lucky."

	"That sucks," I observed.

	"Yeah, don't I know it."

	We read through the statements and signed them.  The officer took
them and checked them over for completeness.  "Same address?"  We nodded.
He smiled.  "I love it!  A couple of gay men are gonna be heroes on the six
o'clock news," he laughed out loud.  "My brother's gay, too.  He's gonna
shit bricks about this!  I've gotta go call him and tell him to watch the
news for sure, tonight."  The officer stood to leave, then said over his
shoulder, "We don't need anything more from you right now, but I know the
representatives of the airlines will want to talk to you.  So, sit tight
and I'll send them in."

	We glanced at each other.  "Some vacation, huh?" I smiled.

	"Always fun when I'm with you, Mike!  But, I think we'd better ask
if we could make a couple of phone calls.  I'm sure this'll be plastered
all over the news tonight.  Our parents will be worried sick," he
predicted.

	"Count on it," I sighed.

The same representative from the airlines who got nowhere with the media
outside came over to us.  "I wanted to thank you gentlemen for waiting for
me.  The press is champing at the bit to get to you guys.  Are you ready?"

	"And if we say, no?" Dave asked.

	"Well, uh, that's your right, of course, but I was hoping you'd at
least stand for photos?"

	"We really need to get to our hotel.  We're on vacation and would
like to get it started.  Dealing with a bunch of barracudas from the press
isn't what I had in mind to do that.  The police have our statement.  They
can read that," Dave smiled evenly.

	Another man strode toward us, two lackeys followed at a respectful
distance.  "These the boys that took down the drunk?" he asked the
representative.

	"Yes, Sir!" the representative said meekly.

	"Matt Triplett," the man said extending his hand in greeting.  "I'm
the Charge d'Affaire in Vancouver for the American Consulate here, boys."
We shook his hand in turn.  "On behalf of your government and the Board of
Directors of the airline (most of whom I know personally), we thank you for
acting quickly and decisively.  The Canadians and your government take a
dim view of air piracy, whatever disguise it takes."

	"We didn't act alone," Dave allowed.

	"But, you were the first to act," contradicted the Ambassador.
"That's what's important here.  The airline's been treating you well?"

	"They want us to be part of a press event," I volunteered with a
sneer.

	"Fuck 'em!" the ambassador said.  "This is a free country just like
ours.  Let 'em chew on the statements.  Where you boys staying?"

	"At the Parkhill," Dave volunteered.

	"Bullshit!  You're gonna stay with me at the Residence," he smiled
graciously.  We stood there with our mouths open.  "Caught ya flat footed,
didn't I?" he guffawed.  "Come on, boys.  You've done a very brave thing
here.  And I can keep those press bloodsuckers away at the Residence better
than the Parkhill can.  Or was it the Vancouver you were staying at?"

	"The Parkhill, Sir," one of the Ambassador's staff offered.

"Yeah, Parkhill.  So, whaddaya say, boys?"

	"That's very gracious of you, Mr. Ambassador," I finally spoke.
"But, this is an imposition on you."

	"Bullshit!  I have interlopers and political hacks staying here all
the time.  About time I had a couple of real heroes stay with me."

	"But, you don't know what really happened on that plane, Sir," Dave
parried.  "It was just a drunk outta control."

	"Not according to the police report, Mr. Carey, is it?" the
Ambassador asked Dave.

	"Uh, yes, Sir."

	"I've already read the report.  This guy's goin' down and I'm gonna
make sure he gets hammered.  We've already asked the Canadians to hand him
over to us for air piracy along with a bunch of other charges.  They're
thinkin' about it, but I think they'll see it our way.  They could always
ask for extradition back to Canada if our court system doesn't nail his
ass.  But, we have sworn testimony from you and other witnesses that he
threatened the safety of the plane.  Whether or not he meant it is up to
the courts to decide.  But, the United States Government kinda frowns on
his sorta shenanigans.  This is a Federal case now, not simple assault.
Extradition may take a while, but I think this is a slamdunk case. But, you
never know, the Canadians could get their panties in a bunch over this and
insist that they try him first, then, hand him over to us."

	I looked to Dave for confirmation.  He nodded, agreeing with the
Ambassador.

	"So, whatcha say, boys?  Dinner and accommodations at the
Residence?  Think of it as getting some of your tax dollars back."

	"Uh, Mr. Ambassador?" I ventured.  He nodded that I had his
attention.  "Something you may not know and it could be embarrassing to you
after the press finds out, which they surely will," I sighed.

	"You're a couple of gay men, right?" he smiled.

	"Geez!  Does anything get past you?" Dave laughed.

	"Not much, Mr. Carey," the ambassador smiled.  "I have good people
working for me.  This position is a career diplomat kinda job, not all that
political, but you do have to understand and appreciate the politics of
situations like this.  I don't see a problem."

	"Under this administration?  You gotta be kidding!" Dave insisted.

	"They'll get over it, soon enough," the Ambassador grinned again.
"I've been around long enough to know how to finesse this."  He'd given
this some thought, evidently.  "I'm offering the hospitality of your
government for a courageous act.  I'm also getting you away from the press
at your request."  We blanched, but then, nodded.  He was right, of course.
We didn't want to deal with them, not for a while, anyway.  "I'm sure I'll
come up with other great ideas, if I'm pressed.  So, whatcha say?"

	We nodded.  "We'd be honored," Dave smiled, shaking the
Ambassador's hand.

	"Look, this Mr. Ambassador horseshit doesn't cut it for me.  The
name's Matt when it's just us, okay?" he offered.

	"And we're Mike and Dave," I suggested in return.

	"Good!  Now, let's get the hell outta here. The limo's outside.
You'll have to run a gauntlet of photographers and the rest of the press,
but the Mounties will get us there and with an escort.  That's one of the
perks of the job that I've always loved," he laughed.

	With a smile on his face, he strode purposefully through the door
into the waiting mob of reporters and flashbulbs, with us in tow.  We
ducked into the limousine under a hail of questions.  "Later," the
Ambassador said, with another of his political smiles.  "There'll be a
briefing at the Consulate later this afternoon.  See ya'll there!" he
smiled again and jumped in beside us.  Shouts of "WHEN?" pursued us.
"Fuckin' piranhas!" he almost snarled.  "But, if we play this right,
they'll be eatin' outta our hands."  Matt Triplett was a pro!  "I'll get
the staff working on this right away.  If the gay issue comes up, how do
you want me to handle it or would you rather handle it?"  A staff person
handed him a couple of folders which he flipped through quickly.

	We shrugged.  We hadn't thought that far ahead.  "Uh, what we need
to do first, Matt," Dave paused after saying the Ambassador's name instead
of title, "is make some phone calls back to the States and let our families
know that we're okay.  This is gonna be all over the news tonight."

	"You can count on that," the Ambassador smiled.  "This is big
news!"

	"It was just a drunk outta control," I insisted.  "He said some
things he'd never say sober, I'm sure."

	"Probably," Matt allowed.  "But, that's not gonna save his ass.
People do and say a lot of things when they're drunk.  Including killing
people.  So, don't think for a minute he's gonna get away with it.  And you
two need to keep to the facts.  If they ask you to speculate about his
state of mind or whether he really meant it, just tell them that you're not
mind readers. You acted based on what he did and what he said.  Got it?"

	"Yes, Sir," we echoed each other.

	"Now, Mike and Dave, I know I sounded harsh right then, but this is
serious shit this guy's in.  You aren't judge, jury, or executioner.
You're a couple of guys who did what any good citizen would have done in
the same circumstances.  It isn't up to you to read the guy's mind," he
concluded.  "Make sure it comes out that way in front of the press.
They'll twist it completely, if you give them a chance.  I'm saying, don't
give them a chance.  You're an attorney, Dave.  You know how this stuff
could be twisted."

	"I was in corporate law, not criminal," Dave defended.

	"You're still gonna be the spokesman on this," the Ambassador added
matter-of- factly.  "Mike's a smart guy, but he doesn't have your training.
They could lead him down the garden path without him being aware of it.  No
offense, Mike."

	"None taken.  And I think he's right, Dave," I agreed.  "You were
the first one to pounce, so you should be the one doing all the talking,
anyway."  Dave finally nodded, seeing that he really had no choice.

	"By the way," Matt smiled, "what's up with this 'retired' bullshit.
You guys are way too young to be retired.  What's up?"

	"Uh, Mr. Ambassador," Dave began.

	"Stow that Mr. Ambassador bullshit!"

	"Okay, Matt, sorry.  Uh, under the terms of a lawsuit that we filed
and settled out of court, we aren't at liberty to discuss the amount or
reason for the settlement."

	"Got 'em by the nuts, did ya?"

	"In a manner of speaking, yes," Dave agreed.

	"And you're both retired," Matt mused.  "Both of you party to this
settlement?"

	"If I told you that, we'd be breaking the terms of the settlement,"
Dave smiled.

	"Ah, I see," the Ambassador smiled.  "But, you know, I have access
to all kinds of information.  And the press will eventually get it, too.
The lawsuit that you filed and settled is still out there, even though
withdrawn.  Says here," he added referencing one of the folders he'd been
handed, "that it was for 'outrageous, slanderous, conduct' perpetrated by
your employer, Dave, with some nasty references to you as well, Mike.  So,
you see, whether you like it or not, you and your lawsuit are gonna be
public knowledge very soon."



National news?  The press will dig until they find more.  What choices do
they have now?  Much more to come!
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