Date: Sat, 21 Aug 1999 17:19:42 EDT
From: Ivrys88@aol.com
Subject: Settling Accounts

SETTLING ACCOUNTS by K. Nitsua (Tales from the Net series).

Copyright 1999 by the author.

NOTE: This story is a sequel to an earlier tale, "Totaling the Balance."
However, there are new characters and incidents and it is not necessary to
have read the previous story in order to make sense of this one.

PART ONE: WALKING TO WORK

If there were one reason why he would have wanted to end his career
teaching at a school in the north, Jon Evans thought, it was the summer
weather in Texas, especially now, at the beginning of what was misnamed
fall semester. He had grown up in New England, where the beginning of
school meant the crispness of early autumn, falling leaves and chilly
nights. Trudging back into the classroom in the blazing heat of late
August, when the cool waters of his backyard pool, not to mention the area
lakes, still beckoned, seemed absurd to him even after many years in the
Lone Star State. That partially explained his grumpy mood today, on the
first day of class.

Someone looking out the window of one of the houses Jon passed would have
seen a slender but fit, handsome man looking younger than his forty-five
years, with dark hair and mustache beginning to be flecked with gray,
walking rapidly despite the increasing heat of the August morning. The
distance from his house to campus was long enough to be good exercise if he
set a brisk pace. Jon had always walked to school, partly for the workout,
partly because it offered him a time where he could, most mornings, be
alone with his thoughts.

The real problem was classes starting again at Steelman College meant that
Kevin would be leaving in a week. Having him share his house, and his bed,
for an entire summer had been an unexpected, wondrous event in his life. He
had always known that the former Steelman student would leave for graduate
school at Berkeley in September. Now that the time had almost arrived,
though, the reality of their imminent separation weighed heavily on them
both.

He avoided thinking of David, dead now for fifteen years, and Matthew, lost
to him for other reasons. He was so accustomed to pushing them out of his
mind that he did so with ease now. Perhaps, after such a long time, the
pain really had begun to fade. There had after all been others since:
Kevin, of course, and also Ward...

Jon had reflected some time ago that, with the passage of the years, most
of his moral boundaries had fallen away, discarded without much trepidation
or regret. Ward Childers had put paid to his rule never to indulge in a
workplace affair. He had come to Steelman as a visiting instructor in
German--four years ago? five?--hired hastily when Wilhelm "Bill" Mohrer, a
longtime Steelman professor who had come to America as a World War II
refugee, died one day in May of a heart attack in the closed garage of his
house. He had been on his way to commencement, and was discovered the next
day by his housekeeper, lying on the concrete floor by the open door of his
car, dressed in his flowing academic regalia.

Jon had liked the sharp-tongued bachelor, who had been the head of the
languages department forever. He had always suspected that Bill Mohrer was
an old queen, though no rumors or scandal concerning him had ever been
hinted at. He had gotten his first look at Mohrer's successor on the
Steelman faculty when Ward stood and was introduced during the
matriculation conference at the beginning of the academic year. This was a
ritual all new faculty members had to undergo, and Jon remembered thinking,
good thing he's not in my department. He found the new visiting instructor,
in his early thirties and just out of graduate school in California,
disturbingly attractive.

The same thought had struck with fresh impact when he saw Ward for the
first time in the locker room at the gym. Jon exercised regularly at lunch
hour, either using a treadmill or swimming laps in the pool. The younger
instructor was obviously also serious about keeping fit. They started
greeting each other casually. Ward was friendly, but Jon held back. The
truth was, he was hard put not to stare at the German professor's muscled,
sturdy body--Ward obviously included pumping iron in his regimen. Jon
thought he looked particularly good in the speedos he favored for his
aquatic workouts.

It was well into November that year when he started noticing a pattern in
their cautious socializing, which had broadened to include an occasional
impromptu lunch in the campus cafeteria. At first, he had encountered Ward
at the pool or in the locker room now and then, but it seemed to Jon that
their meetings were becoming more frequent—at least twice, sometimes
three times a week. It always seemed, too, as if they were emerging from
the pool at around the same time.

Most of the faculty who used the locker room either took off their suits in
the shower, or wrapped a towel around themselves before walking toward the
shower area, located off of the rest room. Jon couldn't help noticing how
Ward would peel off his trunks or workout clothes first, and walk naked
through the locker room, holding his towel by his side, or draping it
around his neck. He would frequently stop at Jon's locker and engage him in
conversation, so that they ended up showering together. He thought nothing
of stopping in front of a urinal and starting to pee while still talking
casually. Heck, Jon thought, if I'm being invited to look, I'll look. He
noted that what Ward had in that department was nothing special.

Still, here was a good-looking and pleasant man who seemed to be cruising
him. Jon found himself occasionally eyeing Ward's crotch when the two met
in a hallway or at the cafeteria. Once after doing this he glanced up to
find the other man looking at him with a slight smile on his face. He had
blushed outright then, he remembered, and started talking quickly about
some inconsequential business. He supposed that he must have given away his
own interest then or at some other time. At any rate, it was not really a
surprise to him, nor to Ward, he suspected, when the next thing happened.

It was an unseasonably warm early December, and the semester was nearly
over at Steelman. Jon had spent the lunch hour that day preparing a new
final in his upper-level Shakespeare class and had missed working out. At
twenty to five he realized that it was the last day he could file an
expense report to be reimbursed for a recent off-campus trip he had
taken. He had rushed off on foot to the main administration building and
the business office, a considerable distance. Walking back to his office at
leisure, he realized how hot and sweaty the unexpected jog had made
him. The gym was near the classroom building that contained his
office. Impulsively, Jon decided to walk there and jump in the shower to
cool off a bit before heading home.

He greeted the student door monitor and entered a practically deserted
gym. Near the end of the semester attendance was sparse, as most students
abandoned their workouts in favor of studying for exams, and athletic teams
took a hiatus as well. The men's locker room was empty, but he heard the
shower going. Jon opened his locker, stripped and took out his towel, soap
and shampoo. The lights were on in the rest room, but the shower room was
dark--apparently a light had burned out. Jon stepped to the entrance, and
then hesitated. Feeling somewhat foolish, he called out, "Hello?"

"Jon?" came the echoing reply. He recognized the voice.

"Ward, yeah, it's me."

"Hey, how are you doing? Looks like a fuse blew, or something. It's a bit
dark in here, but come on in, the water's fine."

Hanging his towel on a hook near the entrance, Jon stepped in and saw Ward
standing in the semidarkness near a jetting showerhead. "This is a bit
weird, isn't it?" he said, keeping his voice light, though he found himself
nervous at this unexpected encounter. "I didn't know you swam this late."

"I don't, usually, but I had some extra time today, and I really needed the
workout. Pretty stressful these days, you know."

"I hear you," Jon replied, as he began to turn the shower nearest him
on. To his surprise, Ward said, "Why don't you use this one so we can hear
each other better?" indicating the shower next to where he was standing,

Jon paused, then decided to throw caution to the wind. "Okay." Not looking
at Ward, he quickly turned on the spray, adjusted the temperature and began
to lather up.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" he heard Ward ask.

"Yeah, it does. It's pretty hot out there today," he replied, rinsing off.

"Yeah, it's nice to cool off. I kind of like showering in the dark
too. Somehow it's more relaxing."

Jon felt it too--the rushing water, the dimness, and not least, Ward's body
so close to his was giving him a powerful sensual charge. He felt his cock
rising and found that he didn't really care if Ward saw.

"Would you do me a favor, Jon?" Ward said. "Wash my back?"

Jon turned. Ward was facing him, extending a bar of soap, his eyes wide and
questioning in the dim light. Jon had seen that look on a man's face
before. He said, "Sure," and took the soap, shutting off his own shower.

Ward turned. Jon's cock took another leap upward as the V-shape of his back
and shoulders was revealed. He hesitantly began to run the bar of soap over
the other man's flesh, at first keeping himself at arm's length; then,
growing bolder, he moved closer, his hand never stopping, roving up over
the broad shoulders, and down almost to where the cleft of his buttocks
began. As yet he avoided doing anything overt, concentrating on evenly
lathering every square inch. Conversation between them had ceased--there
was no sound save that of rushing water.

Ward's back was completely soaped. Jon thought, now I should tell him to
rinse off, or... His hand decided the matter for him. He saw it slip around
Ward's body and begin to run the soap over his chest. To do this, he moved
closer, until his half-hard cock was almost touching Ward's buttocks. He
half expected the other man to draw away, or to turn around and object, but
Ward stood silent, unresisting. Jon reached out, put the soap bar in the
wall holder and continued to massage Ward's pectoral muscles, running both
of his hands now through the wet hair on his chest, making sure to hit the
hard nipples at every pass. Ward's head went back against his shoulder as
Jon abandoned all pretense and pressed up against the other man's back in a
wet embrace, his cock nestling in the cleft between Ward's buttocks.

"Is this all right?" Jon asked softly against Ward's ear.

"Umm, feels great."

When Jon's hand moved downward to take Ward's cock, however, he felt the
other man stiffen. "What's the matter?" he asked.

"It's just that--if I get any soap up my dick, it burns like hell. Can't
use it for lube."

"Oh. Well, why don't you rinse yourself off." Jon pushed him gently under
the shower. Ward obeyed, turning toward Jon. In the semidarkness he could
see the younger man's hopeful yet bashful glances, his cock standing out
stiffly in front of him. When he was finished, Jon said, "You know, there's
no soap in my mouth," and kneeling, kissed Ward's thighs and gently tongued
his balls before completing the act. He felt Ward's body tense as his cock
was surrounded by the warmth of Jon's lips and tongue. After only a few
seconds, the other man pulled away.

"Did I hurt you?" Jon asked.

"Sorry--I was getting too close. It feels damn nice."

"Good, just do it," Jon replied, plunging forward again and burying the
entire length of the organ in his mouth. He ran his tongue around the head
once or twice, then heard Ward's gasps above the sound of the water. His
mouth was suddenly filled with warm salty liquid as Ward's hands tightened
on his shoulders. He let himself swallow the load, and kept the sex in his
mouth until it had stopped shooting. Finally he released the softening cock
and stood. His partner's chest was still rising and falling rapidly with
the intensity of his climax. He managed a smile at Jon. "Thank you," he
said.

"Don't mention it. Seems like you needed that, buddy."

"It's been a long time. Sorry I couldn't hold back. It just felt so good."

"Hey, I'm happy when someone enjoys my work," Jon said."It was wonderful. I
owe you one."

"Yes, you do. And you can pay me back--after we have dinner."

Ward beamed. "I'd like that, Jon. I've been wanting to get to know you for
so long. Didn't expect it to happen quite this way, though," he chuckled.

Jon returned the smile. "I've got to rinse again."

So Ward Childers had become Jon's lover, for a few months. Jon still had a
few snapshots of him, and even a framed photograph standing somewhere in
his house. But of his most vivid memories, for better or worse, there were
no visual reminders.

Neither of them harbored any illusions about the permanence of their
relationship. Ward's appointment expired at the end of the spring term. He
obtained another position at a community college in the Bay area, and
prepared to return to California.

They were lying in Jon's bedroom one evening about a week before classes
ended that spring. Ward had looked at him and said, with typical
directness, "I'm going to miss you, Jonno."

He had replied, "Likewise, Mein Herr."

Ward had remained serious. "You've been great. And I'm not just talking
about in bed, either," he smiled, "but with everything. You've shown me
around, taught me the ropes. I won't forget what you've done for me."

Jon had dreaded this conversation and strove to keep things light. "You'd
better not. I expect regular e-mails, at least until you find your next
lover."

He remembered Ward's hurt look. "I'm not that kind of person."

Jon had looked at him and softened. "I know. And I'm still in shock that
you wanted me. Ten years older, skinny, can't do the butterfly worth shit."

Ward kissed him. "You know, you sell yourself short an awful lot. How much
you want to bet you'll find a new boyfriend before me? I mean, look at all
the beautiful guys who walk around this campus."

Jon said firmly, "In all my years of teaching, I've never done anything
with a student, and I'm not going to start now."

Their final farewell had been dry-eyed, a fond embrace near Ward's loaded
U-Haul in front of his vacated duplex. "Goodbye, teacher," his friend had
said as he drove away, waving. Jon had been surprised at how empty he felt,
watching him go.

PART TWO: KEVIN

It was ironic that Kevin Kuehlwasser had made no impression on him at
first--understandable though, since he had been in Jon's freshman English
composition class the same semester he met Ward. A decent student, but not
one of the standouts, and consistently late in handing in papers; that was
about all he could say about Kevin back then.

It was one day a couple of years after Ward had left when he read in the
student paper about homophobic incidents on the Steelman campus. For its
small size, the school had an active and at times vocal gay and lesbian
student organization, and something they had done had offended some
anonymous students. Leaders of the organization had been receiving
threatening voice mail messages, and posters of meetings and activities
were being torn down and defaced with hateful graffiti. The article
mentioned a "rally for dignity" on the steps of the campus student union
building that week.

Jon read the article then put it aside. While not obsessively closeted, he
had never been open about himself on campus, nor had he made himself known
to gay students. Before he had received tenure, this had seemed a prudent
policy; afterward, he told himself, he just was not a political
person. Still, no one could fault him for supporting a rally against
bigotry, of whatever sort.

The day of the rally was clear and sunny. Walking toward the student union
around noon, Jon saw a small crowd standing in front of the
entrance. Someone was standing on the stone steps, speaking into a
microphone. To his surprise, he saw that it was Kevin."It took me a long
time to find the courage to say what I'm going to say to you all now,"
Kevin's voice boomed from speakers standing on both sides of him. He stood,
calm and dignified, not at all intimidated by the crowd. "But part of the
reason I can stand here and say that I'm gay is the supportive, inclusive
atmosphere that has existed here on the Steelman campus. I'm asking all of
you, as a member of the Steelman Lesbian and Gay Action League--otherwise
known as `LEGAL,' even though we're not, in the state of Texas." He flashed
a momentary grin. "I ask you to continue to accept everyone here for what
we all are: human beings of worth and dignity."

Applause and whistles from the spectators, mixed with a few jeers, greeted
his words. Jon stood silent, impressed by Kevin's quiet composure.Later
that afternoon, he dialed Kevin's voice mailbox. When the tone sounded, he
said, speaking rapidly, "Kevin, this is Jon Evans. You may remember I
taught you freshman English. Just wanted to say bravo for your speech this
afternoon. That took courage. I don't think I had half as much when I was
your age. Thanks again." He put down the phone quickly, wondering whether
he had done a wise thing.

A few days later, as he sat in his office, there was a tap at his partly
opened door. He turned and saw Kevin. "Hello," Jon said, trying to keep his
voice even."Dr. Evans," Kevin said. He came toward Jon and extended his
hand. "Your message meant a lot to me. I wanted to thank you personally,
not just leave you a voice mail."

Jon shook hands, finding that he was almost weak with relief. "I meant it,
Kevin."

"I know, and I really appreciated it, especially after those death
threats," Kevin grinned wryly, an expression Jon later learned was very
characteristic. "I've got to get to class. Talk to you later, OK?"

"Sure," Jon replied, and watched the student go. Some feeling stirred
within him for which he instinctively knew he was not prepared, and he
pushed it back. But he found himself whistling and smiling at odd moments
for the rest of that day.

After that, Kevin greeted him when he saw him on campus. Jon learned that
he was a psychology major and planned to go on to graduate research. He
also noticed that student members of "LEGAL" whom he had never met now
hailed him as if he were an old friend. Kevin must have told people about
his phone call. The thought did not upset him; it even pleased him a
little.

He and Kevin were not friends, though. They never spent any time together
on campus, beyond the occasional chance meeting. He was not even enrolled
in any of Jon's classes. Yet somehow, as the next school year began, Jon
found himself thinking, this is Kevin's last year, he's a senior and he'll
be graduating. He was surprised at how much the thought depressed him.After
commencement that May, amid the rush and whirl of people in the hot
afternoon outside the gymnasium, Jon saw Kevin, in his cap and gown,
standing near the main doorway, alone. Wondering why the student was not
surrounded by admiring relatives, Jon went up to him and touched him on the
shoulder. Kevin turned and, seeing Jon, smiled.

"Oh hi, Dr. Evans," he said."Congratulations, Mr. Kuehlwasser, looking
good," Jon said, shaking Kevin's hand. "Would have thought you'd be mobbed
by adoring fans. No family here today?

"Kevin's smile stiffened, then turned into his familiar wry grimace. "Funny
you should ask. My folks are divorced. My dad's out of the country because
of his job, and my mom--well, she's remarried, and I guess she had better
things to do than come see her son graduate from college. Long story,
pretty boring too.

"Embarrassed but concerned, Jon said, "Kevin, I'm sorry, I had no idea.

"Kevin shrugged. "You couldn't have known. Anyway, thanks for saying
something."

"What's in your future?

"Kevin laughed, but Jon thought he detected a wistful look in his eye. "My
immediate future? Well, I get to spend tonight alone in the dorm. The guy
whose place I'm subletting for the summer hasn't moved out yet. Luckily
they'll let me stay a few extra days. Charging me for it, of course."

"Kevin, that sounds awful," Jon said, feelingly. "What are you doing for
dinner?"

"Don't know. Some of my friends mentioned my going out with them--but I
don't know if they'll remember, they're pretty busy with their families and
all...I haven't told a lot of people I'm by myself, Dr. Evans. I don't want
them feeling sorry for me," Kevin said, his jaw set.

The words rose to Jon's lips almost without conscious thought. "How about
coming over to my house for dinner tonight?

"The younger man's eyes widened. "Really? But... I thought..."

"Thought what?"

"Well, geez, you're the campus hermit. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said
that. It's just that lots of the other profs invite students to their
houses, and you never do."

Jon said, "You're not a student any more." He smiled into the cool gray
eyes he had often admired. "No one should have to eat dinner alone on
graduation night. What do you say?"

"Heck, I'd be honored, Dr.---"

"Kevin," Jon interrupted, "call me Jon, okay? How's six-thirty sound?"

"Great... Jon. Do I need to get dressed up? Bring anything?"

Jon laughed. "You've graduated, remember? No need to try and impress
me. And I'm honored that you've accepted my invitation. Do you know how to
get to my place?

"The front doorbell rang at six twenty-five. When Jon answered it, Kevin
was on the front step, dressed in gray slacks and a light-colored polo
shirt. Jon was amused but touched that he had felt the need to dress up. In
his arms Kevin carried a bottle. He thrust it forward and said,
diffidently, "Hello. I... brought this."

"Thank you, Kevin."

"I mean, it's stupid... I don't even know if it matches what you've got for
dinner, but..."

"Doesn't matter. Believe me, it's not that kind of meal," Jon
laughed. "Come on in."

The slight stiffness between them wore off as Jon served his utilitarian
but hearty meal. Helped by glasses of the wine Kevin had brought, they were
soon talking freely on a variety of topics.

"So what do you remember about me from your English comp class, Jon?" Kevin
asked.

"I remember being nervous the first day about saying your last name," Jon
grinned. "Finally I decided I'd be a snob and go with the German
pronunciation."

"Which is exactly the way I say it--Kewl-vahsser. Means `cool water.'"

"Yeah, I thought it fitted you so well. You'll fit right in at Berkeley
with your California attitude."

Kevin laughed. "California attitude? That doesn't sound like a compliment."

"You were just a mite casual about handing in your papers on time."

"Guilty as charged. I always thought you cut me a lot of slack. I
appreciated that."

"Glad you noticed."

A wicked glint appeared in Kevin's eye. "Thought maybe--you had the hots
for me. Was disappointed that I was wrong.

"Jon said, seriously, "That's one thing I'd never do, get involved with a
student. Too much bad shit can happen. Want some ice cream?"

During dessert Kevin put down his spoon and looked at his former
professor. "This has been great, Jon. I probably would've been sitting by
myself at the local Whataburger tonight if it hadn't been for you. Thanks."

Jon looked back at him, sitting straight in his chair, serious and sincere
with his fine blond hair and gray eyes. Kevin had grown a goatee during his
final semester that made him look even younger than he was. Jon felt a rush
of warm feeling mixed with a strong awareness of Kevin's attractiveness. He
felt a stirring in his lower body and shifted in his chair, glad for the
moment that the dining room table separated them.

"My pleasure," he said. "I always did regret having you only for that one
English class. You've been a well-known figure on this campus, a credit to
the school."

Kevin gave a short laugh. "Well, I'd agree with the first--not sure about
the second."

"I think you've been great. Your work with LEGAL revitalized it. You've
been a model and inspiration for all gays on campus. You certainly inspired
me. I wish I'd had your courage when I was your age. I was a scared,
skinny, lonely and ugly kid."

"Ugly? Don't believe that." Kevin's expression was direct, unsmiling. Jon
decided to let the remark pass."

It's getting a little cooler. Why don't we take our wine, go out and sit by
the pool?"

They sat in the backyard and looked at the rectangle of water. Kevin said,
"This is great."

A pause, then he added, "Everything's been great. I don't want this to
end." Jon looked over at him. The clear direct gaze was there again, the
message unmistakable. This time Jon did not look away.  He felt his pulse
and breathing quicken, partly from the wine he had drunk, partly from
excitement.

"So are you really a hermit, or what?" Kevin said, quietly.

Jon said, evenly, "What do you mean, Mr. Kuehlwasser?"

"What's a handsome, brilliant and nice guy like you doing all alone? Oh, I
know about your scruples. You were willing to make an exception for
Dr. Childers, though."

"So that's common knowledge around Steelman?" Jon was surprised, though he
had to admit he shouldn't have been.

Kevin shrugged. "It's a small campus." He grinned. "Especially where us
queens are concerned. If you want to know the truth, we were jealous. He
was a hunk."

Jon laughed despite himself at the breezy assessment. "No argument
there."Kevin's voice was suddenly filled with frustration. "You're awfully
hard to read, you know that? I've had so much respect for you, the whole
time I was here. I used to lie awake nights trying to think of some way to
get close to you. I figured you had a thing about not doing students, but I
couldn't help hoping--"

"Hoping?"

The wry look appeared again. "You are so good. I've put all my cards on the
table without you saying one damn thing about how you feel. Have I made a
total fool of myself? Should I just go?"

Jon gazed at the younger man, sitting with his eyes now cast downward. He
looked at Kevin's hand gripping the arm of the deck chair, and saw his own
hand reach out and cover it. Kevin looked up, startled. Then, with a long
sigh, he sank back into his chair and closed his eyes. He turned his hand
over, his fingers interlacing with Jon's.

"It's lonely here in my cave," Jon said. "Did you hear that crash a moment
ago? That was a moral scruple hitting the floor."

Kevin opened his eyes and smiled, the sarcasm gone. "I won't tell."

Later, when Jon thought back to that graduation night, it was in bits and
pieces--images and sensations that would remain forever burned in his
mind. There was his first close look at Kevin's torso, slender and hard
with just a suspicion of chest hair, as Jon had slipped his shirt off over
his head. The whiff of cologne that had entered his nostrils as he licked
one of Kevin's nipples. Inhaling another, stronger scent, feeling a
grasping hand on his head, as he had taken the swollen organ jutting from
the blond pubes down to the root.

He remembered Kevin's profile, his head turned to the side and pressed
against the sheet, his arms splayed out above, his small butt in the air as
he knelt in front of Jon. His cry of mingled pain and delight as Jon had
pushed his cock in. Himself uttering grunts of release against the back of
Kevin's neck as he exploded into him, dimly aware of the cock underneath
pumping warm fluid into his grasping hand.

They had taken a breather after that. Sometime afterward, lying in Jon's
bed, Kevin had said, "Let's go skinny-dipping." He had recoiled in mock
surprise when Jon said he had never done that. "I thought that's why people
got their own pools."

"It's not exactly private around here," Jon said doubtfully. "There are
neighbors."

"Aw c'mon, it's fun. Didn't you do it when you were a kid?"

"Never."

"You don't know what you've been missing."

Jon couldn't help smiling. "Well, I'll kill all the lights in the back. But
we've got to be quiet."

They slipped naked out the back door and into the pool, now lit only by the
reflection from a light in a nearby yard. The water felt glorious against
Jon's unencumbered body. He started stroking to the deep end, reached the
edge of the pool and paused, grasping the concrete rim. Kevin came up
behind and wrapped his arms around Jon. He felt the student's lips on the
side of his neck, and shivered. A hand grasped Jon's stiffening cock.

"You didn't get in the pool bareassed just to swim, did you?" Kevin
whispered, teasingly."

Sure I did," Jon retorted, though Kevin's other hand was pinching his left
nipple and he was having a hard time thinking coherently. "The water's not
that warm, you know--unless we keep moving, we'll get chilled."

Kevin licked Jon's right earlobe. "I can think of other things we can do to
keep warm." He suddenly broke away and began swimming back toward the
shallow end. Jon watched him go, back and shoulders glowing white in the
dim light. Kevin reached the edge of the pool, climbed out, turned and sat
facing Jon, his hands gripping the edge, his feet in the water, the curve
of his cock rising from between his legs. Jon breaststroked toward his
partner, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the tantalizing sight of Kevin,
nude, dripping wet and aroused. He saw Kevin's smile broaden as he drew
nearer.

He reached his goal, stopped swimming, and knelt on the pool bottom,
grasping the younger man's narrow hips and easing the cock once more into
his mouth. His hands roved over the smooth chest in front of him. After a
while, Kevin put his hands underneath Jon's arms, urging him to a standing
position. He pulled Jon's face down toward him and their mouths met in a
prolonged kiss. Kevin finally broke away and mumbled something Jon didn't
catch.

"What?" Jon asked.

"I said, this is a fucking fantasy come true."

Jon chuckled softly. "That makes two of us. Well, not quite."

"What do you mean?"

"I had another one just now. You fucking me. Here."

"In the pool?" Kevin laughed softly. "Doc Evans, if your students could see
you now."

"Not to mention my department chair. Or the president."

"I'll get the stuff."

Minutes later Jon was bent over, grasping the edge of the pool, as Kevin
thrust into him from behind. He could still remember the heat of Kevin's
body above him, the coolness of the water on his legs and crotch, the hot
breath hitting the back of his damp neck as Kevin gasped harshly in the
throes of orgasm. He had pulled Jon back into the water immediately
afterward and jacked him off--cumming underwater, Jon discovered, was a
novel and not at all unpleasant sensation. Afterward, completely drained,
they had paddled slowly around for a few minutes, gotten out and dried
themselves, gone inside and fallen into Jon's bed.

When Jon woke, he could see the sun out his bedroom window. Looking at the
clock, he saw that it was nine-thirty. Kevin lay next to him, still
asleep. He watched him for a few moments, enjoying the stillness of the
morning, letting thoughts wander through his mind. Finally, reluctantly, he
got up, put on a pair of gym shorts and headed for the kitchen.

He had just poured his first cup of coffee when he heard sounds behind
him. A sleepy-eyed Kevin was entering the kitchen, dressed only in his
briefs. "Good morning."

"Hey," Jon replied. "Want some coffee?"

"That'd be great." Kevin walked over to Jon and put his arms around
him. Jon hugged him in return, touched by his simple tenderness. Kevin
spoke against his chest. "I was lying in bed just now, wondering whether it
was all a dream."

Jon chuckled. "It was no dream. We both smell like chlorine and my butt
hurts like hell."

Astonished laughter bubbled up from Kevin. "You are fucking crude, you know
that?"

"Give one moral scruple the heave, and look what happens."

"Well," Kevin said, drawing away, "I never thought graduation was going to
be like this. A night to remember." He seemed suddenly shy, avoiding Jon's
eyes.

Jon handed him his coffee cup, puzzled at the constraint that had sprung up
between them. They sat at the kitchen table in silence for some
moments. Finally Jon asked, "Are you all right?"

Kevin didn't answer for a long moment, then sighed. "I'm just being
stupid," he said.

"About what?"

Kevin looked up. The gray eyes, usually so composed, were liquid and
vulnerable. "The party's over. I know you're not supposed to ask if you'll
be invited back. But I guess I can't help wondering."

Jon said slowly, "I was doing some thinking myself before you woke up. I
came up with a crazy idea." He hesitated, then plunged ahead. "Do you have
to take that sublet?"

"What are you saying?"

"I have a spare room in this house. It's a little studio apartment,
actually--it has its own bathroom and entrance off the back. I've never
rented it. You could have it for the summer, until you go away."

Kevin was looking at him intently. "Supposing I could get out of my
sublet. I'm not going to stay here for free."

Jon said, "Of course not. You pay me what you were going to pay for your
other place. Come and go as you please. You can have the run of the
house. And the pool," he smiled.

"Why are you doing this?"

Jon reached across the table and took Kevin's hand. "You asked whether I'd
invite you back. Fact is, I don't want you to leave--just yet. I know
you'll go eventually. Until then, do you think you could keep a grumpy old
man company?"

A slow smile spread over Kevin's face. "You're not old. As for grumpy, I
guess I'll find out. I'll tell you one thing, Jon. I'll never look at a
backyard pool quite the same way again."

Jon laughed as the joy he had felt the previous night returned. The summer
ahead that had seemed so empty now loomed bright and enticing.  "I'll drink
to that," he said, and took another swallow of coffee.

PART THREE: FIRST DAY OF CLASS

So Kevin had come to his former professor's house for dinner on graduation
night and stayed all summer. It had been one of the best summers of his
life, Jon thought, and it was about to end.

He entered his classroom building and went into the faculty mailroom on the
ground floor, greeting a colleague or two along the way. He had avoided
coming in for as long as possible and his box was stuffed with paper. He
fished out the pile with both hands and carried the untidy mass to his
office.

He fumbled awkwardly in his pockets for his key when he reached his door,
and just managed to get inside before the papers he was carrying fell to
the floor. Cursing under his breath, Jon bent to pick them up. As he
suspected, most of it was junk. He saw computer printouts, though, and
fished out his class rosters for the semester. He supposed he had better at
least glance at them before he started teaching. His freshman English
composition class would be meeting this afternoon, so he looked for that
first. He found it and began to read with a practiced eye. All of a sudden
he stopped, and stared at a name about halfway down the list: "Mulroy,
David Matthew."

The rest of the papers lay forgotten at his feet. Jon thought
quickly. Matthew had had two children, a girl and a boy, when the family
lived in Austin. He had never met Matt's family, for obvious reasons, but
he recalled him talking about his son starting to kindergarten. After
thirteen years, then, the boy would be around eighteen and--starting
college. Jon wondered if it were possible that Matt had sent his son to
Steelman.

He had Matthew had not talked for more than a decade. Soon after Matthew's
departure to North Carolina, Jon had e-mailed him and asked him not to
write any longer. He had thought that episode of his life was far behind
him, and now it suddenly looked as if he might be teaching Matt's son. What
the hell was he going to do? There was nothing to do except wait and see.

In fact, the rest of his morning was so busy he had no time to think about
what might happen that afternoon. It was only during the hour between lunch
and the start of the two o'clock English class that he began to wonder
again about who David Mulroy might be. Most likely, it was just a
coincidence of names, he told himself.

Yet, as he walked into the full classroom a little before two o'clock, he
found himself scanning the sea of faces on the students sitting in the
desks, almost as if Matthew might be one of them. His gaze lit upon one boy
sitting in the back of the classroom and he stopped. The light brown hair,
the vivid blue eyes--those features were common enough. But the line of the
jaw, the smile as he caught Jon's eye--he felt the memory and the reality
snap together into one piece, and he knew that this young man must be
Matthew Mulroy's son, even without reading out the roster as he always did
on the first day.

He returned the student's smile with a slight nod that gave away nothing,
and, with an effort, started the class routine. He remembered little about
the class afterward, though it must have gone much as usual. As the hour
ended, he said, "David Mulroy, may I see you for a moment after class?" He
was mildly amused at the anxiety that momentarily crossed David's face, as
it did that of almost any student who was singled out.

As the rest of the students filed noisily out, David came up to him with a
politely questioning, no longer worried, look. "Dr. Evans, you wanted to
see me?"

"David," Jon said, "It's nothing critical, sorry to single you out. I'm
wondering, though, if I might know your father."

"Dad?" David said doubtfully. "Well, I don't see how--we live in North
Carolina."

"Did you once to live in Austin, maybe ten or twelve years ago? Your
father, was he working for Dell at the time? Matthew Mulroy?"

"Yes, that's right," David said, surprised. "We moved away when I was real
little, I'd just started kindergarten. So how do you know Dad?"

Jon had not thought of how he might answer this question, and hesitated a
moment. "He--well, he used to work out at a gym I went to. We kind of
became running partners. He was a great guy, we became good friends."

David smiled. "That's Dad all right, he knows everyone. Still tries to work
out too, though he's real busy these days."

Jon said, "We haven't talked for years, kind of lost touch. But I wondered
if you might be related when I saw your name. When I saw you I was
sure--you look quite a bit like him."

"Yeah, everyone says that. Well, that's cool that you know Dad." Then,
catching Jon by surprise, David said, "You want his e-mail address?"

Jon said, "Well--sure. If you'd think he'd want to hear from me."

"Sure. Dad just lives at that computer anyway. He runs his own software
marketing company now, you know."

"Really, I didn't know that."

"Anyway, he'd be tickled that he knows one of my professors." David pulled
a wallet from his pocket and fished a business card out. "I actually have
his card. You can take it. There's his e-mail at the bottom."

Jon thanked David and put the business card in his own wallet without
looking at it. Later that afternoon in his office, just before walking
home, he took it out, looked at it a long time, and turned it over in his
hand, thinking.

When he got home, the house was silent. Kevin always seemed to be out these
days, running one errand or another in preparation for his move to
California. Untidiness was rampant in the house. There were boxes, wrapped,
sealed and with Kevin's Berkeley address on them piled in the front hallway
today. Jon sighed inwardly at yet another tangible sign of changes in his
life. The house was warm despite the air conditioning. He went in the
kitchen and got himself a glass of water, and sat at the table, trying to
unwind. Finally he got up. He decided on an impulse to mail the boxes for
Kevin. Grunting with the effort--must be books, he thought--he carried them
out one by one, loaded them in his car and took them to the post office.

He saw Kevin's car in the driveway when he returned. As he was getting out,
the front door opened and Kevin came toward him. From the expression on his
face Jon sensed something was wrong. "Hey, guy," he said. "Anything the
matter?"

"Jon," Kevin said, without ceremony, "What did you do with those boxes?"

"Let's go in the house, it's hot as hell out here." When they were inside,
Jon turned to Kevin and said, "I mailed them just now. Weren't they all
ready to go? By the way, I filled out a change of address form for you
while I was there."

"Jesus," Kevin said sarcastically, "And I suppose you have people coming to
look at the apartment too. Would you like me to move to the motel so you
can clean the house?"

Jon felt anger rise in him. "What the hell's the matter with you?"

"I was your student, and I'm twenty years younger than you. But don't treat
me like a goddamn child. I've got the plane ticket, don't worry, I'm out of
here come Saturday. You just can't wait, can you?"

Kevin stormed off. Jon heard a distant door slam a moment later. He must
have gone into his own apartment. He sat for a while in the living room,
wrapped in gloom. Why were they fighting? He went to his office and buried
himself in mundane preparations for next day's classes. When he finished he
found that an hour and a half had passed. There had been no sound from
Kevin since he had gone in his room. Jon quietly walked to door of the
studio apartment and tried it. Finding it unlocked, he pushed it open very
slowly. Kevin was lying on his own bed, which he seldom used, turned away
from the door. Something painful gripped Jon's heart at the sight of him
asleep, looking small and vulnerable, dressed only in old khaki shorts. He
shut the door and looked at his watch--it was getting toward dinner time.

He was standing next to the sink, paring vegetables, when he heard movement
behind him. Kevin was walking into the kitchen. He had put on a t-shirt. He
did not come up to Jon but sat silently at the table.

"Have a good rest?" Jon said, turning back to his work, trying to keep his
voice neutral.

"Yeah." A few moments passed, then, "I know I was an asshole a while
ago. I'm sorry."

Jon said carefully, "You're entitled. Things are kind of unsettled around
here for both of us." He paused, and then said, "We shouldn't fight. Let's
make the most of this week."

"This last week," Kevin said. "I wish you weren't so eager to get rid of
me."

Jon turned and protested, "That's not fair, Kevin. Why do you keep saying
that?"

"Well for Pete's sake, you're so goddamned efficient, mailing my boxes,
filing my change of address form. You can't wait to be alone."

"I'm just trying to help."

"Jon," Kevin said sadly, "Why won't you ask me to stay?"

Jon closed his eyes. "We've been through this already. You're a brilliant
young man with a great future. I'm not going to stand in the way of that."

"People have thrown away their futures before to stay with the person they
loved," Kevin said, looking steadily at Jon, though his lip trembled
slightly. He dropped his eyes and said bitterly, "I should have known you
wouldn't say you love me."

Jon said, "I do love you. That's why I'm not going to let you stay in this
boring town with an over-the-hill academic."

Kevin looked up wonderingly. "You really believe that, don't you?" He
shrugged in resignation. "Okay, I give up." A hint of a smile appeared on
his face. "So, what's for dinner?"

Jon said, "You know, I don't feel much like cooking any more. Let's bag
this and go out to eat, get away from this mess, what do you say?"

They went to the best place in town, a quiet little restaurant on the
square. Jon knew that he might well run into other faculty from Steelman,
but was past caring about that. They sat, and ate, and talked quietly, and
held hands underneath the table. As they finished dessert, Kevin began to
gaze at Jon steadily in a way that had aroused him since the first night
they were together.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Jon finally asked quietly, though he
knew the answer."

"Cause you're so fucking hot." Kevin was smiling wickedly now. His fingers
tickled Jon's palm under the table. "Where the hell am I going to find a
dick like yours in California?"

"Christ, you're bad," Jon said, stifling a laugh. "You're going to have to
cut that out. I can't get up from the table."

"Okay. I'll ease up just long enough for you to drive us home, stud."

They got inside the door and were immediately in each other's arms. Kevin's
lips sought out Jon's eagerly. His hands roved to Jon's belt and unfastened
it, unzipped his fly and took his cock out, already half erect. He dropped
to his knees and took Jon into his mouth. Jon looked downward as he grasped
the back of Kevin's head, watching his shaft, now fully hard, slide in and
out past the tight lips of his partner.

He lifted Kevin to his feet and kissed him again. His hands unbuttoned the
shirt in front of him and feverishly slid across Kevin's chest. They left a
trail of clothing in the hallway leading to the bedroom.As they rolled and
grappled and slid on the bed, Jon whispered to Kevin, "Restrain me, would
you?"

Kevin smiled, his eyes sparkling. "So you want to play rough, huh?"

"In your unique style, yes."

Kevin said, "You asked for it." He reached into the drawer of the
nightstand and drew out two pairs of handcuffs. He quickly and expertly
shackled each of Jon's arms to the headboard, so that he was spreadeagled
on the bed. When he was finished, Kevin paused and looked down at his
prisoner. "God, you look so damn hot like that." His own cock stood out
stiffly in front of him.

There was no brutality to Kevin's particular brand of control. Instead,
with the aid of lubricant. and light and expert touches of his hands and
mouth on Jon's nipples, cock and balls, he soon brought him to the edge of
orgasm. At that moment he stopped and let Jon's need recede, then went to
work on him again. He masturbated Jon for a while very slowly and gently,
moving his hand delicately over the swollen head, while lightly rubbing
lube on one of his erect nipples. Soon Jon could think of nothing except
the sensations flashing from one or another of his body parts. He thought
he would go insane from the gentle, ceaseless torment, and he was helpless
to stop it. He started to thrust his body upward, trying to get some real
friction going, and Kevin broke all contact. Jon groaned in frustration and
his partner grinned. "Not yet, buddy."

"Please," Jon begged. Kevin shook his head, still smiling, and began his
slow masturbation again, this time ending each stroke with a sharp twisting
motion as he drew his hand away. Jon felt two fingers being slowly inserted
into his asshole. In a moment they were nudging at his prostate in rhythm
to the hand strokes. His arousal rose another pitch but still he could not
get himself over the edge. If he tried to move his body, Kevin would simply
stop all motion or take his hand away. Soon he was sweating and gasping,
his cock sore and swollen to bursting. "Damn it, Kevin!" he shouted.

"Ooh, bad language. We're going to have to punish you for that." Kevin
withdrew his fingers. Then Jon felt a much bigger object pushing at the
entrance. He cried out as the butt plug broke through and was firmly seated
in his rectum. "That'll leave my hands free," Kevin said. He clambered onto
the bed, straddled Jon's body and took the erection in his hand
again. Smiling into Jon's eyes, he positioned it between his buttocks and
began to lower his body slowly. Jon felt his cock pushing at Kevin's
butthole, then all of a sudden it slid in and his organ was surrounded by
smooth moist heat. Kevin gasped and closed his eyes. "Oh yeah," he said. He
kept his body still as he adjusted to the invasion, then slowly bent his
knees until the entire length of the organ was inside him. Opening his eyes
again, he smiled again at Jon. "We've got a long way to go yet, baby," he
said.

He began to pull himself up with exquisite slowness on the erection, until
his sphincter muscles were grasping only the head of Jon's cock. He
squeezed a few times at the top, then, fully tightened, slid up and down on
the glans until Jon grunted with pleasure. "Like that?" Kevin
laughed. "Better stop." He suited the action to the words, staying
suspended for a long moment, then suddenly let himself down so that Jon's
cock surged back into him in a huge stroke. Jon shouted again.

For what seemed like hours Kevin rode Jon's cock, varying the speed,
pressure and depth of his movements so that Jon was constantly kept off
balance. At last, when Jon was ready to weep with frustration and the need
for release, Kevin began to ride his unbearably tormented cock with hard
rapid strokes. In a matter of seconds Jon let out a wail of release as his
long-delayed orgasm came bursting up through his body. He spewed his load
of cum in spurt after spurt deep into his captor's gut."That's it baby,
give me your load," Kevin said through gritted teeth as he masturbated his
own cock rapidly, sliding forward over Jon's chest. A few more quick
strokes and warm jets of cum began to splatter over his face, mustache and
tongue. He swallowed as much as he could, then Kevin moved forward to let
him take his still pulsing dick into his mouth. After he had cleaned it
off, Kevin pulled out and looked down at Jon, naked and dripping with his
semen. "God, if you could see yourself now," he said, his voice soft with
lust.

He bent and began to lick his own load off Jon's face. When he had done
this he kissed Jon and emptied his collected sperm into him. They swapped
the remainder of the load back and forth as their tongues and lips met in
languid caresses.

Kevin got up, removed the butt plug and unlocked the cuffs. At last Jon
could enfold him in his arms. Embracing him tightly, he felt a lump in his
throat.

His lover raised his head at that moment and smiled at him. Kevin's eyes
glittered in the candlelight. "Why don't we just stay in bed until I have
to get on that plane?" he said.

PART FOUR: E-MAILS TO JON

From: kevincool@maillink.ucberkeley.edu To: evansj@mail.steelman.edu Date:
9/02/02

Jon, sorry I haven't written sooner. I've been running around, settling in,
dealing with the bureaucratic shit. Berkeley is great so far, real college
town, beautiful area. Close to San Francisco too :-).

Things got kind of weird for us at the end I know. I'm sorry about
that. FWIW, I would have stayed gladly, had you asked. You were pretty
convincing about how that wouldn't be a good idea. Now that I'm actually
here, I'm feeling a little better about it. But I miss you man...Take
care. Write, Luv ya, Kevin

From: mmulroy@softnet.com To: evansj@mail.steelman.edu Date: 9/04/02

Dear Jon,

What a surprise to hear from you. I had no idea you were teaching at
Steelman College now--we've been out of touch for so long. I'm delighted
though that you're teaching my son. He is a good boy, and smart too, I
think, though you know us parents...Your e-mail brought up a lot of stuff
for me. I'm sure running into David was a bit of a shock for you as
well. Right now, I'd have to say my emotions are mixed--a lot has happened
since I left Austin, more than you can possibly imagine with my career and
my life, and I'm sure the same is true for you too. I'm really glad you
wrote, though. Let's stay in touch, okay?

Best wishes,

Matt

From: kevincool@maillink.ucberkeley.edu To: evansj@mail.steelman.edu Date:
9/20/02

Jon, just had to write and tell you a weird thing happened--not bad, just
weird. I went into the city this past weekend to check out the Castro and
stuff. Well, I walked into the Names Project headquarters on Market Street
and ran smack into a mutual friend of ours. Actually, more than a mutual
friend of yours. Ward Childers, remember him? Looking mighty good,
too. Anyway, I recognized him right away but he was staring at me funny as
though he couldn't quite place me. So I went up to him and introduced
myself and said I was from Steelman in Texas, blah blah. He teaches at SF
State now. The FIRST thing he said to me was, "Oh, do you know Jon Evans?"
Well, what could I say? I didn't tell him everything right off the bat, of
course.

But the thing is, Jon, he asked me for a date. We really hit it off. Are
you cool with that? I thought at first, well, things are over between Jon
and me, why not? But it's WARD, for gosh sakes, there's a bit of history
between him and you too. Anyway, it may be stupid, but I thought I'd just
write and tell you about it. Guess you must know by now I have a thing for
older guys. Seriously, write and tell me what you think. Can't promise I'll
take your advice, but I want it :-). Kevin

From: ChilyW@aol.com To: evansj@mail.steelman.edu Date: 9/23/02

Mein Jonno, long time no talk! You know, you were right. I tried to keep in
touch, didn't I? But the Bay area has so many distractions... Speaking of
distractions, I met a former student of yours last week, Kevin Kuehlwasser
[a good German name :-)]. I suppose he's told you about that already. He's
a cool customer, that one. We were well along before he told me that he
didn't just know you, he really knew you. I'm feeling kind of guilty about
it, much to my surprise, as if I betrayed you. He told me that you "gave
him his freedom," like practically ordered him out of the house. You know,
I believe him, that sounds just like the self-sacrificing Jonathan I
knewÐand loved. I can say that now...

Anyway, I'm not sure what I want from you, other than an e-mail letting me
know how you're doing... your blessing perhaps? Sounds silly I know, but it
would make me feel better.

I miss you mein Freund, and I miss Steelman too. Dealing with these kids at
SF State makes it all seem like a beautiful dream. Let me know how it's
going in Utopia, OK?

Ward

From: mmulroy@softnet.com To: evansj@mail.steelman.edu Date: 9/23/02

Dear Jon:

I'm writing to tell you that I'll be at Steelman at the end of next month
for Parents' Weekend. I thought about this a long time. Naturally I want to
visit David, and he's told me he'd love for me to come. I really couldn't
explain to him why I had mixed feelings about it. You see, Jon, my children
still don't know about you and me, or about me and other men. I suppose you
think I'm a coward for not telling them, and maybe I am. But there you have
it.

Jon, would you like to get together? I'm not even sure that you
would. After all, you're the one who told me to stop writing. But it would
be very strange for me to be where you live and work and not see
you. Besides, I have a feeling it will be almost impossible for us not to
run into each other on campus, unless you're going to be away. Maybe you
will be now that you know I'm coming :-). I hope not, though.

Anyway, I'm flying in on Friday night and staying until Sunday morning. I
know I'm going to take my son out for dinner on SaturdayÐthat's the
first thing he asked for, of course. Might you join us? Let me know what
you think. I'm looking forward to hearing from you.

Best, Matt

PART FIVE: DINNER FOR THREE

Parents' Weekend happened the last weekend in October. Matt had e-mailed
Jon that he would be flying in from North Carolina late Friday night and
going straight to a motel in town. Events for parents and their student
children were planned all day on Saturday, but Matt thought they could go
out to dinner along with David on Saturday night. So far, he hadn't
mentioned the two of them spending any time by themselves.

He was to meet Matthew and David at his office at around six o'clock
Saturday evening. Jon got there early and left the door ajar. He sat down,
tried to read, got up and paced, then looked out the window. His heart was
racing with excitement and nerves. What would Matthew look like after so
many years? How would Jon look to him? Would they have anything to say to
one another? Perhaps they would find they had turned into strangers. Take
it easy, he told himself.

Finally he heard a polite tap at his door. He walked rapidly to it and
opened it all the way.

"Jon?" Matthew asked, smiling tentatively.

"Yes, Matt. How are you?" Jon's first thought was, my God, it has been a
long time.

The man Jon had known and loved he remembered mostly in casual clothes:
jeans, khakis and colorful shirts. The man who stood before him was dressed
carefully in a dark suit and subdued but elegant necktie, everything neatly
in place and crisply pressed, the shoes polished, the collar straight. The
man Jon had known had been clean-shaven. This man had a mustache. The hair
was the same light brown though, a bit thinner perhaps; the eyes the same
blue, the dimples the same.

Jon had wondered how he would react when he first saw him, whether he would
rush to embrace him, shake his hand, or simply wait. He was saved the
trouble of deciding as Matt stepped forward and hugged him, hard, clapping
him on the back. "Jon, it's so good to see you," he heard him say.

Jon returned the embrace. "Good to see you too, Matt," he replied."

"How long has it been?"

"Thirteen years." Matt's hair did have a few gray strands, now that he was
looking more closely. His face also had a few more lines. Jon supposed he
had aged too.

"I'd never know it from looking at you."

Jon snorted, but was pleased. "That's not true, but thanks."

"No, I mean it. You look great. How do you keep in shape?"

"You're looking good too, Matt. Damn elegant, actually. Makes me feel kind
of rumpled."

"You're fine. I kind of have to dress like this now. It's more work, I can
tell you that."

"How was your trip?"

They continued to make desultory conversation as they waited for David to
arrive. Jon began to relax a bit. Matthew seemed the same sociable, open
person he had met long ago. As yet much remained unrevealed about what had
happened during their years apart, but Jon found himself looking forward to
what their evening might bring. Once or twice he thought he detected a
faint, questioning look in Matt's otherwise cheerful eyes--perhaps he was
wondering too.

"Ah, here he comes." David was walking toward them down the hall.

"Hey, Dad. You found the office. So, Dr. Evans, has he changed a lot?"

"Beyond recognition," Jon smiled."

"For the better, I hope," Matt said in mock annoyance.

"Actually, I'm joking, David. Your dad's just about the same guy I used to
know." Jon saw that his meaning was not lost on Matt, but David said,
"Well, I guess that's good. Where are we eating, Dad? You're the one who's
treating, right?" he grinned.

"Well, I guess that's settled," Matt said dryly. "Where would you like to
eat, son?"

"Hmm," David said, "Since I'm not paying--I've heard good things about San
Cristobal down in Austin."

Jon whistled. "Mr. Mulroy, your son has just chosen the most elegant and
expensive Mexican restaurant in Central Texas."

"Sounds good to me," Matt winked. "You know how to get there, Jon?"

The restaurant was crowded, the food delicious. Jon wished he could talk
more freely to Matt, but David's presence prevented total candor. He had to
assume Matthew's son knew nothing about their past relationship. The boy
seemed rather shy at the moment, but that could just be the strain of going
out to dinner with both his father and professor.

"So, Jon, what's the scoop on my son? Is he going to flunk out?"

"Oh, Dad," David said.

"Actually, David's doing well in my class," Jon said. "He's one of the
students I enjoy."

"That's good. Means he's not taking after his father," Matt chuckled.

"Yes, I remember you telling me that," Jon said, and suddenly had an image
of where that conversation had taken place--in a hotel room where he and
Matthew had hidden away for a rare weekend together, making passionate
love.

Tearing himself with an effort away from the memory, he asked David, "So
how does it feel, coming back to Texas?"

"Well, to tell the truth, I don't remember much about it," David said. "I
was only five when we moved away."

"He was the one who was looking forward to going back to North Carolina,"
Matt said. "He knew his grandparents would be thrilled to see him. They
just thought he was the cutest thing. He was, actually."

"So--how's everyone's dinner?" David asked, pointedly.

"Okay, son," Matt laughed, "I'll take the hint."

"Actually, Matt," Jon said, "I'd love to hear more about what you've been
up to since you left Austin."

Matt sighed. "I'm not really into blowing my own horn. But okay."

He had continued to rise through the ranks of his company after moving to
North Carolina, being promoted to positions of increasing responsibility. A
few years ago, he had started his own software development
business. Despite Matt's modest vagueness, Jon deduced that this had proved
to be a tremendous success.

"Not bad for a guy with a C average in college," David said, listening to a
tale he had obviously heard before.

Matt sighed with mock exasperation. "You see what a hard time my kids give
me? He says that every time I get on him about keeping his grades up."

"Matt, I really am impressed. You've done well for yourself. And raised a
fine son, too. You and David's mom should be proud."

He saw the sudden shadow pass over David and Matthew's faces
simultaneously.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"No, not really, Jon. You couldn't have known. Christine passed away a few
years ago."

"He doesn't know about Mom, Dad?" David asked, puzzled. "I thought you two
were old friends."

"Well, we really have been out of touch a while, David," Matthew said. He
looked genuinely pained and Jon regretted his remark.

"I'm really sorry to hear that, and I'm sorry to have brought it up, Matt,"
he said.

Matthew smiled, suddenly looking tired. "Not your fault, Jon."

They continued to chat over dessert but a slight pall had fallen over the
evening. When the waiter came back with Matt's credit card, he signed the
slip immediately. "We'd better get this hard-working, studious fellow back
to his dorm," he said, rising from the table. Jon and David followed suit.

Jon drove David and Matt back to the campus. They stopped in front of
David's freshman dormitory. David said, "Thanks for the ride,
Dr. Evans. Bye, Dad. Have a good trip tomorrow," opened his car door, and
jumped from the car. "Hey, hold on a minute," Matt protested, and getting
out himself, followed David toward the front doors. Watching them go, Jon
was once again struck by how much they resembled one another. Matthew and
his son paused and talked briefly in front of the dorm lobby. David hugged
his father and disappeared inside.

Matt came walking back to the car and got back inside. "Can you believe
that boy of mine?" he laughed. "I'm not going to see him until Christmas,
and that was all the goodbye I was going to get."

"He hugged you," Jon said. "That was nice."

"Yeah, he really is a sweet kid. I sure do miss having him around. I'm all
alone now. Jill, my daughter, got married right out of college. She and her
husband live near Philly."

"You're not going to see him tomorrow?" Jon asked.

"Well, I have an early flight. I told David I'd take a cab or limo to the
airport. He offered to join me for breakfast at the motel, but... we've
been with each other all day. He'll survive."

"Maybe I ought to take you back now, if you need to get an early start,"
Jon said.

"No way in hell," Matt smiled, putting his hand on Jon's shoulder. "I came
fifteen hundred miles to see you. You aren't getting away that easy."

Jon was filled with a pleasant warmth at Matt's touch. This was exactly
what he had hoped for. "So what do you suggest we do?"

"Well, do I get to see where you live?" Matt asked.

"No sooner said than done," Jon replied.

PART SIX: SETTLING ACCOUNTS

They entered Jon's dark and silent house. "Nice place," Matt said, as Jon
flipped the light on.

Jon shrugged. "I'm sure it's not as nice as what you have. But I like
it. And it has a pool."

Matt was looking at a framed picture of Kevin hanging in the front
hallway. "A student of yours?"

"Yes." Something in his tone must have alerted Matt, who said, "Is there
more to this story?"

"Well, yes," Jon admitted. "I'll tell you after a few drinks, maybe."

Matt raised his eyebrows, but said only, "I see."

Jon got some ice and water from the kitchen and mixed Scotch and waters for
the two of them in the living room. Matt slipped off his suit jacket and
laid it next to him as they settled side by side on the couch. It seemed
entirely natural for Jon to put his arm around Matt, and for Matt to lean
comfortably on Jon's shoulder. They sat in companionable silence for
several moments, sipping their drinks.

Matt said finally, "You know, I was really nervous about seeing you today."

Jon chuckled, "You and me both, buddy."

"I was shaking like a leaf walking down the hall toward your office. I
thought, what if it turns out we have nothing to say to each other? What if
I've changed so much he doesn't like me any more?"

"Well, you have changed some," Jon said, stroking Matt's hair, "But I still
like you."

Matt looked Jon in the eye and smiled. "That's a load off my mind."

They continued to gaze at one another. Just as Jon felt some other emotion,
long dormant, begin to flow between them, Matt broke the contact and took a
hasty swallow from his glass.

"So tell me about the young man in the hallway," he said.

Jon sighed as his mixed emotions came to the surface. "Kevin? Where do I
start?" he said. "Kevin is a former student of mine. He came to dinner on
graduation night last May and--stayed all summer. He's in graduate school
at Berkeley now, in a great program."

"One of many beautiful young men in your life?"

Disappointed by Matt's abrupt withdrawal, Jon felt unaccountably irritated
by his remark. "Actually, I've always had a strict hands-off policy
concerning Steelman students. So you don't have to worry about David."

Matt drew away, saying stiffly, "That's not what I meant at all, Jon."

"Sorry, that was out of line," Jon said, trying to mollify him. "Guess you
poked me where it still hurts. You have to understand, Kevin knew damn well
what he wanted when he came here. As well as you knew what you wanted when
you started talking to me online so long ago."

"Touche," Matt smiled. "I was out of line too."

"He's a smart and courageous kid, and he has his whole life in front of
him. He would have stayed if I'd asked him. But I wasn't going to let him
throw it all away for me."

"But you miss him."

"I do," Jon said simply. "As much I missed you after you left."

"Oh, Jon," Matt sighed heavily, holding his drink with both hands and
looking down into his glass, "Would it help you to know that those months
we had together were the last time I was truly happy?"

"I know you've had some rough times. You told me about your wife."

Matt's laugh was short and bitter. "You don't know the half of it. Do you
really want to hear the rest? It's not pretty."

"Actually, I would."

"Okay. This isn't going to be easy. You're the first one to hear the whole
story." Matt took another swallow of Scotch.

"After I left you for the last time, thirteen years ago," he began, "I was
a basket case for weeks. Couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, could hardly work. I
told Christine I missed Austin a lot more than I thought I was going
to. She bought that, somehow.

"For years I didn't even try to meet any other guys. I knew I could never
find another one like you. But finally, I guess the old urges came back,
and I started chatting online and meeting people, the same way I met
you. But I was real careful this time to keep things real impersonal, just
pure sex. Most of the guys I fooled around with wanted the same thing, so
it was easy. But finally I made a mistake."

"What happened?"

"I hooked up with a guy who worked in my company," Matt said. "I think I
told you I did that once before. Only this guy was single. I'd been doing
one night stands but with him I went back for more. He was pretty hot, I
have to sayÐtaught me some things you hadn't." He grinned briefly. "But
he also turned out to be a bit of a nutcase, very jealous and
possessive. After a few months I'd had enough. Tried to break it off. He
went to Christine."

"Oh, shit."

"It was a while before I found all of this out. Chris listened to him, then
told him if he didn't stop harrassing us, she'd call the police and our
boss and have him fired, as well as arrested for stalking. But she'd heard
enough that she started going through my computer. She found e-mails I'd
stupidly saved, pictures, the works."

"And she confronted you?"

"That was the damndest thing, Jon." Matt's voice became unsteady. "She
didn't say anything about it, not to me, not to anyone--just kept it all
inside. I knew something was wrong, but I had no idea what it was. Greg had
stopped bothering me--I thought he had given up. I thought I was home
free."

"Then one night, I heard a noise and woke up. Chris wasn't in the bed. I
went out in the hall and found her collapsed in agony on the floor. I took
her to the ER--they did emergency surgery. It turned out to be cancer."

"Jesus." Jon's glass sat forgotten on the coffee table.

"It was while she was in the hospital afterward that I found out what she
knew," Matt said. "Knocked me totally for a loop, of course. Even now I can
hear her voice, how flat and distant it was as she told me everything that
happened." He drained his Scotch and set the glass down on the coffee
table.

"Why didn't she tell you before?"

"She said--she said she was embarrassed and humiliated at what she'd
found. She couldn't bring herself to talk about it with any one, especially
not me. And she said she felt guilty about going through my private stuff,
that she'd wished she'd never done it. *She* felt guilty.

"Chris told me that she'd suspected I was gay for years. As long as she
didn't have any real evidence, she'd more or less just hoped it wasn't
true. She thought about the kids, our whole life together. She didn't want
to wreck it. You were right, Jon. Do you remember we talked about this?"

Jon nodded.

"I cried, promised never to do it again, said I'd do anything if only she'd
forgive me. All she said was,'Don't let the children know about any of
this' She wouldn't look at me.

"The next two years were pure hell. I took Chris back and forth from the
hospital for radiation and chemo, tried to reassure the kids, run the
house, go to work. All the time knowing I was taking care of someone who
despised me, who had every right to do so.

Tears began to trickle down Matt's cheeks. "She got worse and
worse. Gradually we realized there was no hope. One day, a few weeks before
she died, I'd taken her out to the garden. By then she was in a wheelchair
and on morphine round the clock. Of course she slept a lot. I was sitting
beside her, when she woke up and said my name. All of a sudden she reached
out her hand. I hadn't slept with her or touched her except to take care of
her since all of this had started. I took it in my own and then
she... she..."

He managed to regain control. "She apologized, she said, 'I've been so cold
and hateful to you these past months. I don't want you to remember me like
that.' I stuttered something about her having a right to be angry, and she
said, `I've done a lot of thinking. I know you couldn't help what you did,
and that you loved me as much as you could.' She asked me to take good care
of the kids."

Jon took Matt in his arms and held him tightly as he sobbed on his
shoulder. He felt tears on his own face. Finally Matt let go, fished in his
jacket pocket, took out a handkerchief and wiped his eyes and face. He
stared silently at the floor, his elbows on his knees. Jon rubbed his back,
bowed with sorrow.

Matt looked up and smiled shakily. "That was even worse than I thought it
was going to be."

"Matt," Jon said, brushing away his own tears, "If I say something, will
you promise to think about it?"

"What?"

"You've got to stop torturing yourself."

"Easier said than done, buddy."

"Your wife was a fine person, and she forgave you. Now forgive yourself."
He took Matt's face in both hands and wiped away the remaining tears with
his thumbs. "I remember something else I told you long ago that I still
think is true. Being loved has nothing to do with whether you deserve
it. Your wife loved you. Your children love you. I love you."

"Do you--still?" Matt asked, grasping Jon's wrists.

In answer, Jon kissed him, tasting his tears. He felt Matt's own mouth and
body responding to his wordless message.

"Stay with me tonight," Jon said urgently, when they released each other.

Matt nodded.

In the bedroom Jon unbuttoned Matthew's shirt. Matt said with an
embarrassed smile, "I've gained some weight."

"What, five pounds? Who gives a shit," Jon said, as he kissed Matt's bare
shoulder.

"It's just that you do look absolutely great," Matt said, lightly brushing
Jon's nipples with his thumbs, causing him to shiver.

"Well, having Kevin around kept me motivated," Jon admitted, as he began to
back Matt toward the bed. "But you look fine to me. Just fine," he said, as
he gently pushed him onto his back, pinning his arms down as he began to
kiss him.

Soon they were both naked, grappling and twisting frantically like two men
drowning, trying to save each other. They continued to kiss, their lips and
tongues meeting, nibbling, licking and sucking as if they could never be
satisfied. Matt whispered to Jon, "Let me suck you." Jon sat up and hiked
himself forward on his partner's body until his hard cock was over Matt's
face. He saw Matt open his mouth and felt his organ engulfed in warm moist
pleasure. He lifted his head and closed his eyes as Matt slid back and
forth on his shaft. Dimly Jon thought, he's gotten really good at this, as
his friend took him effortlessly down to the very root, not even gagging
when Jon pushed his face into his pubes and began to thrust with his
pelvis, fucking his face. He felt himself approaching orgasm and withdrew,
not wanting it to end just yet.

He looked down at Matt's face, slick with saliva that had leaked out of the
corners of his mouth, his eyes tearing from the strain of having Jon's
penis stuffed down his throat. "Nice work, cocksucker," Jon said,
grinning. "Now it's my turn."

He got off the bed onto the floor, pulling Matt by the legs after him. He
knelt and took Matt's cock into his mouth, pushing his tongue deep into the
piss slit, lapping up the salty fluid leaking freely from the opening.
After a while he let Matt's dick go and worked his way downward, taking the
balls gently one by one into his mouth, then tonguing the area behind the
scrotum. He lifted Matt's legs into the air, exposing his puckered, pink
asshole. As soon as he saw it he made straight for it with his tongue. Matt
began to groan quietly as Jon rimmed him. Soon he was whimpering helplessly
as Jon's entire mouth kissed his hole, his lips forming a tight seal as he
continued to thrust his tongue into the opening.

"Fuck me Jon," he said.

Jon released his hold on Matt's thighs and reached into the nightstand,
taking out the necessary equipment. His hands were shaking with eagerness
and he had trouble tearing open the condom wrapper. He at last got the
rubber on and squeezed out a handful of gel, applying it slowly to his
erection as Matt watched his every move. He took the rest and moved back
toward Matt, who hooked his arms under his legs and bent himself to give
Jon better access. He began to apply the lubricant slowly to the cleft
between Matt's butt cheeks, occasionally letting a finger slip inside the
hole. "Hurry," Matt said urgently.

Jon shook his head, smiling. "I'm enjoying the view too much."

"Aw, please, Jon," Matt pleaded. "Give it to me now, buddy."

Jon looked at Matt's erection, leaking clear fluid onto his stomach. "You
got it." He positioned himself between Matt's upraised legs and placed the
head of his cock against the asshole. Slowly he began to let his weight
move forward. He felt the flesh resisting, then the tight ring of sphincter
muscle pass over the glans, an exquisite sensation. There was no sound in
the room except for their breathing, then a quick intake of breath from
Matt as the entire head of Jon's dick slid inside him.

Jon kept his eyes locked on Matt's face as he continued to push in, until
the entire length of flesh was surrounded by the smooth heat of Matt's
insides. Just as slowly he withdrew until only the head of his penis was
still inserted, then pushed forward abruptly, hitting bottom hard and
drawing a grunt of pleasure. He felt Matt tighten his ass muscles in
response. Jon shifted his eyes to where he and Matt were joined, watching
his condom-covered shaft begin to slide in and out of the cleft behind
Matt's ball sac, moving past hair matted with lube. He began to thrust
faster and faster, Matt crying out every time he slammed in cock in, until
he was a human engine, pistoning into his partner. Jon threw his head back
and closed his eyes. Nothing existed for him but the pleasure of being at
one with a man he loved. He felt his climax approach and said through
gritted teeth, "I'm getting close, Matt."

"Go for it, Jon. Use me any way you want, baby."

Still remaining inside Matt, Jon pushed him back so that he could climb
onto the bed too. Stretching out full length, he pushed down onto Matt's
body until his partner was bent double, his knees pressed against his
chest, the soles of his feet toward the ceiling.  In this position Jon
began to pound into him, uncaring now of Matt's discomfort or helplessness,
thinking only of his final drive toward release. A moment later he began to
shout hoarsely as the cum came boiling up out of his loins, through the end
of his cock, and into the rubber buried deep in Matt's rectum.

It was a minute before Jon's brain could process anything than the
explosion rocking his body. When he opened his eyes he saw that Matt was
pulling furiously on his own cock. As he watched, Matt's body began to
heave and jets of sperm shot across his chest and stomach, one hitting his
chin. He did not shout or groan loudly, but his expression was the same
intense mixture of agony and delight Jon remembered so well. He leaned
forward, kissed Matt and licked some of the cum off his upper body, then
pulled out and lay next to him, still panting. Matt's hand sought his own
as they both stared at the ceiling, their breathing slowly returning to
normal.

At last Matt turned and smiled. "That was worth waiting thirteen years
for," he said.

Jon did not reply for a minute, then said, "Jesus, Matt, when did you get
to be such a hot fuck? Not that you were bad before," he added hastily.

Matt snorted. "I wasn't bad, I was terrible. Let me put it this way. Greg
was a shitfaced prick, but he was damn good in bed. Guess some of it rubbed
off. Don't know if it was worth all the agony, though." His face suddenly
clouded.

"What is it?" Jon asked.

Matt sighed. "Well, we're together again, but for how long? Jon, I'm
getting on a plane for the east coast tomorrow morning."

"This morning," Jon corrected him, looking at the bedside clock. The
euphoria of their reunion was quickly fading. Matt was right--he was going
back and they would both be alone once more. He got up and walked into the
bathroom. After cleaning himself off, he got a towel and went back in. He
wiped the rest of the cum off of Matt's body, threw the towel on the floor
and lay back down beside his friend.

"I remember the last time we were together like this I ended up bawling my
head off," Matt said, turning on his side to face Jon, "But it's funny,
right now I'm happy. It means a lot to me that you still have the same
feelings, Jon. That's going to get me through a lot of lonely nights."

"Matt, you deserve better than memories," Jon said. "But there's one thing
you need to do before you'll be truly happy."

"What's that?"

"Tell your family the truth about yourself."

"Jon, how can I possibly do that?"

"Matt, how can you not do it? All your life you've tried to get what you
need by sneaking around behind people's backs. That hasn't worked real
well, has it? You've raised your children to be open-minded and accepting,
I know you have. They're not going to turn on you."

Matt was silent for long moments, then said, "I've been hiding something
from someone all my life. I am tired of that, it's true."

"You've paid your dues. You took care of your wife. You've raised two kids
to be fine adults. Now do this for yourself."

Matt laid his hand on Jon's cheek. "I'll sleep on it," he said. "And now,
Professor, may I offer you some advice?"

"Shoot."

"If I were you, I would get on my knees, beg, plead, do anything to get
your young man in California to come home."

Sudden pain welled up in Jon. This was not what he had expected to
hear. "And why would I want to do that?" he said, trying to keep his voice
light.

"Because he loves you," Matt said, "And you love him."

"No, Matt. I let him go because I love him."

"Jon, you are so much wiser than me, but this time you're wrong and I'm
right." Matt turned his gaze away, blinking rapidly. "Thirteen years ago
you let me go, and now it's too late--our time is past. Stop letting us go,
Jon."

"Why the hell would he want to come back? And if he did, how do I know he'd
stay?" Jon demanded. To his surprise his voice was unsteady. "I'm twice his
age, Matt. When he's our age I'll be an old man. Why would he want to stick
around for that?"

"He might leave, yes. But from all that you say he's an exceptional
person. He told you he wanted to be with you. Why not give him the chance?"

"Because--I'm scared." Jon knew it was true. "Scared I'll be left alone."

"You're scared you'll be left alone, so you choose to be alone. Doesn't
make much sense to me." Matt embraced him. "If I can't have you, I want you
to be happy, Jon. Ask him to come back--for me."

Jon felt the warmth of Matt's shoulder against his forehead and realized it
might be the last time they were this close. Tears started again from his
eyes as he nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"Jon," Matt said softly, rocking him in his arms, "It's so damn good to be
with you again." A pause, then he said, even more softly, "Can I ask you
one more thing before I go?"

Jon said, "Sure."

"Would you ride my dick with that hot ass of yours?"

Laughter broke through Jon's tears. "Matt Mulroy, you *have* changed."

In the gray of early morning, Jon drove Matt back to his hotel and then,
over his protests, to the airport. Despite being exhausted from lack of
sleep, and, he supposed, the emotion of the previous night, he felt at
peace. Speeding down the freeway he and Matt caught each other's eye. Both
began to snicker. "What the hell is so funny?" Jon asked, trying but
failing to sound severe.

"I was thinking you look like death warmed over. I probably look exactly
the same."

"You do. It sure was easier to party all night when we were David's age,
wasn't it?"

At the curb in front of the terminal, he helped Matthew unload his one
suitcase. They stood indecisively, then Matt said, "Who gives a fuck what
anyone thinks?" and wrapped Jon in a bear hug.

"You're learning," Jon said when they broke apart.

"You take care, love," Matt said softly. "Keep in touch, okay?"

"You'd damn well better come visit before David graduates," Jon said,
smiling over the lump in his throat. "I want you to meet Kevin--if he's
here."

"I hope I'll have that pleasure very soon." Matt grasped his suitcase
handle. "Well, I'd better be off." He gave Jon a last, one-armed hug and
turned to go. "Bye," he said, looking over his shoulder and waving. Jon
raised his hand in response. He watched until Matt disappeared from view
inside the terminal.

Back at home, he sat in his office, lost in thought. Finally, he started
his computer, logged on and began to compose an e-mail message.

In the middle of the night, he was awakened by the electronic trilling of
his bedside phone. "Hello?" he said sleepily.

"Jon?" a familiar voice said.

"Kevin!" Jon said, instantly alert. "How are you?"

"Okay. Oh shit, I just realized what time it was where you are. Sorry. I've
been out all evening. I just got in and saw your e-mail. Had to call right
away."

"That bad, huh?"

"Jon." Kevin's voice was warm. "This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever
written to me. And of course I'll come back. Right away, if you want."

Jon wanted to shout with joy, but restrained himself with an effort. "Don't
do that. You'll lose all your semester credit. Now that I know you're
coming back, I can wait till Christmas. That way, you could transfer the
courses to the UT program, if you want to apply for next year."

"Yes, Professor Evans," Kevin laughed. "I see you have it all worked
out. By the way, I have a confession to make."

"So what leather bar were you cruising tonight?"

"Actually, I was out with Ward. I wrote you that we were kind of seeing
each other, but lately we've mutually decided just to be friends. He's a
great guy, Jon. Still thinks the world of you."

"That's sweet."

"Anyway, he was saying tonight that I ought to go back to Texas. I kept
saying, but he sent me away, and he said, you know, Jon is a teacher, he
gives his lovers everything he has and then waves goodbye as they go out
the door. You've got to be the one to change his thinking, he said. Then I
come home and get your e-mail."

"I always thought Ward was smart, as well as a stud. Tell him that for me
the next time you see him."

"Jon," Kevin's voice shook slightly, "I'm so damn happy. I don't know what
else to say except--I love you."

"Kevin, I don't know how many times I said it in that e-mail, but I'll say
it again. I love you too."

They talked a few moments longer before Jon hung up the phone. He lay
there, all thoughts of sleep banished from his mind. The corners of his
mouth seemed to have a mind of their own, turning up despite his best
efforts. Finally, he got up and padded through the dark house toward the
back yard.

Though it was October, the night was still warm, and there was a nearly
full moon. A neighbor in one of the nearby houses might have been roused
from sleep that night by distant shouts and laughter. Looking out an
upstairs window, they would have seen a tall man, naked, leisurely stroking
and swimming in a backyard pool, occasionally splashing water high in the
air.

END