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The Dirty Pleasures Incident

By: Transverse



For those who see the humor in life, and believe in love, sex, and fireflies.

A long journey, but worth the trip. Don't forget to vote! Feedback is always appreciated.

*

It was 12.19 a.m.

He stood on the sidewalk in front of the Easy Cleaners, glancing furtively left and right, making sure he wasn't followed. The moon shone sun bright and full in the sky and he was cast in deep shadow beneath the umbrellas of the tables that lined the walk, waiting for his associate to arrive so that they might proceed to their destination. He pulled the collar of his trench coat up as far as it would go, covering his neck and part of his cheek as he tapped his foot restlessly, wondering if Nate had been apprehended on his way there. He hoped not, because he was pretty sure he would chicken out of this if Nate didn't show.

H heard the scratching of sneakers on pavement right to the left. His head snapped in that direction and his thighs tensed, ready to spring into action if anyone but Nate rounded the corner. He pulled the brim of his hat down over my eyes and waited nervously as the figure approached. 

"Andy?" Nate asked in his childish voice. 

"Yeah, its me," he replied, releasing a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Thank god you showed. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten."

"With all the damn messages you left on my phone to remind me, I couldn't have forgotten if I'd tried. Why the hell are we out here so late, anyway? And what the fuck are you wearing?"

"I didn't want to be recognized. I'm trying to blend in."

Nate's eyes narrowed.

"You're on Palmdale Boulevard in a trench coat, a wide brimmed hat, and sneakers, for Christ's sake," Nate pointed out. "At midnight. Who the hell are you trying to blend in with?"

"I've never done something like this, dude. Give me a break."

Nate smirked and held back a chuckle. "I guess I've finally found Carmen Sandiego. I've had that game for, like, ten years. You have no idea how long I've been looking for that bitch. They should call me Gumshoe. That black lady who gives out the missions would be so proud."

"Very fucking funny. Are you here to help me with this, or not?"

"Yeah, yeah. I can't believe we're doing this. Are you really too much of a pussy to go during the day?"

"Yes! I'd die of embarrassment. I could never look anyone in the face while I did this shit."

"C'mon, it's not even really that big a deal. I mean, I'm sure guys come here all the time to buy them. You're not alone. We're not that far from Los Angeles." 

"Just help me! The sooner this is over with, the better."

"You are so never going to get laid. At least not the way you need to be."

"Nate!"

"Fine, whatever. Let's just go. You're sure they don't have security here, right? If we get arrested for this, they're going to tell your dad what you tried to steal when he comes to bail you out."

"They don't. I've staked this place out for weeks. They don't even lock the door most nights."

"Then let's do the damn thing. Lead the way, Carmen."

"God damn you."

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

Jonathan put his feet up on the "security desk," crossing his ankles as he leaned back in his chair. He hated night duty. It was the most boring thing about working here. Sometimes he really couldn't believe some people. Who vandalizes a Greenpeace office? What was the point? But apparently, there was one, because there had been a string of robberies and property destruction in the past six months. This office couldn't even come close to affording a night guard, so the employees had agreed to take shifts wearing security guard uniforms in hopes that the show of "force" would deter potential assailants. It was working so far.

If I wasn't so dedicated to this, Jonathan thought, I would have bailed hours ago. But he was. He loved the outdoors and everything about nature, and couldn't bear to stand idle in the midst of its destruction. No, as boring as this part of his job might be, he loved every other part of it. The canvassing, the presentations at middle schools, even the ever-present pressure to raise enough money to cover the cost of office supplies for the week were the highlights of his existence.

If only he was as active in social settings lately as he was when he was at work, he might get some action once in a while. He couldn't remember the last time he had had a good lay. Now that he thought about it, it had probably been Becca, and about two months ago. She was pretty good, but he was growing increasingly tired of girls. He had fooled around with a few guys in high school, just experimenting, really, but near the end he had decided he liked girls better and would stick with them. He was reconsidering that choice on an almost daily basis now, and openly ogling attractive guys he passed on the street. Yep, he thought to himself. You may end up with a rainbow sticker on your car yet, Johnny boy. He chuckled at the thought. Another cause to fight for, he thought. At least they don't have offices that need fake night guards to keep idiots from stealing the water coolers at night.

He tensed, on high alert, as he thought he heard some voices coming from downstairs. After a few minutes, they died down, and Jonathan sat back in the seat. It was likely some late night workers at one of the stores downstairs. They stocked shelves at pretty odd hours at some of these places. Oh well, Jonathan thought, yawning. Stock away, boys. Thoughts of hot, young stock workers filled his head as he settled into his seat for a long, long night. 

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

"Nate!" Andy whispered loudly through clenched teeth. "Will you keep your voice down, please? Someone might hear us!"

"Like who?" Nate asked sarcastically, "the Fuck Police? Are they out here stalking us, waiting to catch us breaking in to a-"

"Shhhhhhhh!" 

Nate just scowled.

"Okay, here we are," Andy said as they approached the shop. "Okay. Cool. Okay. We can do this." 

Nate rolled his eyes and reached for the door handle. He pulled on it gently, and when no alarms went off, he opened it fully. He went in first. 

"Well?" He asked Andy impatiently. "Are you coming in or not? I have an 8 a.m. lab tomorrow. You better hurry the fuck up before I ditch you here."

"I'm coming, I'm right here, God!"

They walk into the darkness, Andy on tiptoe, and made their way past the nude calendars and nipple clips to the back of the store, where the dildos and porn movies were. When they were safely in the back room, Andy let out a breath.

"Okay, we're in. I wish we had more light, though," he said quietly, looking at shelves in front of him illuminated in the dim glow of his Wal-Mart flashlight. "I can't see which ones are which very well."

"Dude," said Nate, unable to believe his ears. "They're dildos. Just pick one. Brand Power doesn't apply here."

He walked up to the shelves beside Andy and began to rifle through the packages. "Ooh, look, this one has ridges," he said with a slight chuckle. "Here's another good one," he said, holding up a large package. He shined his flashlight on the back of the box. "Twelve inches of vibrating pleasure, for the hole that's sick of pegs that are too small. Customer satisfaction guaranteed, or your money back." He let out a whoop and turned to Andy, who's face was a very deep shade of plum. "Think you can take all this, Andy, or is it too much, too soon?" 

Andy's lips flapped, unable to make any sound. Nate really had no shame, did he? He just said whatever he wanted, no holds barred. It was amazing to Andy that they made such good friends. Andy was very introverted and intense, a true artist at heart. He really didn't open up to many people, and had a close knit group of old friends rather than a large group of superficial ones. He just preferred hanging out with people who understood him well and whom he could be comfortable with. As low-stress as this environment was, however, it often prevented him from getting one thing he was beginning to need desperately- sex. His realization that he was gay hadn't helped matters, either. 

At first he had been terrified of what Nate would say, that they would stop being friends, and then he would really be lonely. He agonized over it for months, until finally Nate had taken him aside and demanded to know what was eating him. He'd broken down and confessed everything, ending up in tears and pleading with Nate not to tell anyone, convinced that this was the end of their friendship. Nate had shocked the hell out of him by comforting him and telling him that they're friendship wasn't going to end just because he liked to fuck guys, and saying that if nothing else he owed Andy for the time Nate had stolen his Nintendo GameCube and for never telling him where it had gone. It was then that Andy knew they would be friends for a very long time.

Eventually, Andy had calmed down enough to tell his other friends about it, and even to talk to Nate about it on a regular basis. Nate was the only one he could ever have asked to come with him tonight.

A loud crash startled him out of his reverie, and his head snapped in its direction.

"Shit," Nate said dramatically, holding his ankle. "These God-damned fake dicks are trying to kill me. Can you just pick one, please? I'll even give you some privacy. I'm gonna go look at the porn." 

Andy took one last glance at the pile of dildos that Nate had knocked off the shelf and turned back to his task, chuckling. 

He loved Nate to death.

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

Jonathan was sitting at the desk, reading a magazine about skydiving when he heard a loud crash coming from downstairs, followed by a scream and a curse. Clumsy ones, he thought. I hope they're all right. Looking left and right and seeing no immediate threat to the office, he decided to go and see what all the commotion was about. Someone might be hurt down there.

He walked out the door of the office, making sure to lock it before heading down the concrete staircase to the first floor of the complex. Scanning the stores, he saw the light of flashlights of the stock workers moving back and forth in a store called Dirty Pleasures. Maybe tonight won't be so boring after all, he thought, picturing some poor guy trapped under a ladder next to the penis pumps. He laughed to himself, pulling the door open and stepping inside.

He walked in and headed toward the lights in the back of the store, when he caught a glimpse of something that nearly stopped his heart.

Standing in front of a rack of lifelike dildos was a guy in a trench coat and a wide brimmed sun hat, holding a tan colored phallus in his hand, gently stroking the head of it while his other hand massaged the shaft. At by far the most unusual thing he had ever seen, Jonathan stared in amazement as the man ran the dildo across his lips, his tongue even slipping out a little and tracing the head. Jonathan's heartbeat kicked it into high gear and he could feel the familiar tingle in his groin as he reacted to what he was seeing. It really has been too long, he thought as he reached down and adjusted himself. 

Just then, another guy came in from another room of the store and spoke to the trench coat. "Dude, you gotta check this out. This is some quality shit, man. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea."

"Yeah, yeah, Nate. C'mon, I picked one, so I'll just go grab a video and we can get out of here before…" He trailed off, and looked in Jonathan's direction. "Did you hear that?"

"Yeah," said the other guy. "Wanna go check it out?"

"No," said trench coat in a shaky voice. "Let's just go."

Jonathan jumped out from behind the nipple clip rack, pulling out his "gun." "Freeze!" he shouted, "and put your hands up! Now!"

"AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" trench coat screamed, and accidentally backed into the dildo rack, sending the entire thing crashing to the floor. Both he and Nate fell clumsily to the floor, trying to crawl away from the cop. 

"I said freeze!" Jonathan repeated. "Immediately!"

"Fuck you!" Nate shouted. "Help me man!" he said to trench coat, and together they began throwing dildos through the air at Jonathan. Before Jonathan could process what was happening, he was struck in the head by a particularly heavy one, and collapsed to the ground.

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

"OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! We killed him! We just killed a cop!" Andy shouted, running round in frenzied circles, still holding the toy he had been examining. "We just killed a cop with dildos! Oh God!"

"ANDY!" Nate shouted, grabbing hid friend by the shoulders and shaking him. "You have got to calm down, dude! He's not dead, don't you hear him groaning?"

Sure enough, Jonathan was moving slowly, moaning and rubbing his forehead.

"Whoa," he said, rising cautiously to his feet. "What just happened?"

"We just pelted you with merchandise," Nate said defensively. "Who are you anyway? It's pretty obvious by now that you're not really a cop, or even a security guard, for that matter."

"No, you're right, I'm not," Jonathan said with a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I'm Jonathan, a wannabe security guard from the Greenpeace office upstairs. I'm really just a regular employee, but we've been taking turns dressing up as security to ward off burglars."

"Oh. I'm Nate. Burglars? How much dough could there be at a Greenpeace office?"

"Almost none, but vandals have been coming in at night and stealing the water coolers. We can't afford any more new ones, so here I am."

"Wow dude, that sucks." Nate looked back at Andy, who had been completely silent for the last few minutes. "Are you okay, Carmen? I thought I'd lost you there for a second."

Andy didn't answer. He was too busy staring at guard he had almost killed with sex toys. He had to be, quite literally, the sexiest guy Andy had ever seen. He was about 5'8", and had hair so black it looked blue, cut in one of those "emo" styles with the long bangs on one side. His face somehow seemed radiant to Andy, as though there was backlighting behind it or something. But his eyes were what really made him breathtaking. They were blue, sure, but they were more than just that, they were somehow also white, and yet clear at the same time. Icy, Andy thought dreamily, like the middle of a glacier. He felt like he could fall into those eyes, like they would swallow him up and he could live in them, swimming in their depths for eternity.

Nate snapped his fingers loudly in front of Andy's face. 

"Earth to Andy! Hello, are you in there? Can you came out and play right now?"

"Oh!" he exclaimed with a start, knocking his hat off in his crash back to reality. "Yeah, I'm sorry. I'm just a little shocked by all this, that's all. I'm good, now, thanks." 

"Okay then. In case you weren't listening, this is Jonathan. He works at Greenpeace upstairs, and he's not really a cop."

Jonathan. How perfect. 

"Hi," Andy said shyly, a broad, shit-eating grin breaking out on his face. He actually had to physically restrain himself from giggling and further humiliating himself. He tried to force the grin down to a normal smile.

It didn't work.

"Hi," Jonathan said back, pleasantly surprised by Andy's smile. It was so broad and unapologetic, like a child getting a new puppy. His heart melted a little. Get a grip, he told himself. Then he remembered how he had seen Andy licking the toy and rubbing it over his lips. Now that he had a beautiful face with high cheekbones, yet chubby cheeks, cute, kissable lips and a hundred watt smile to go with it, he was having a hard time keeping his thoughts PG-13.

"Okay," Nate said, breaking the short silence. "Don't mean to interrupt the Kodak moment here and turn up the awkward dial, but you're not gonna tell anyone about this, are you, Jonathan? I don't want my parents to find out that I was caught stealing a dildo from a sex shop by a rent-a-cop at a Greenpeace office. It wouldn't make very pleasant dinner converstaion." 

"No worries. I think I'll just keep this between us, especially after the show Andy here put on for me," Jonathan said lasciviously, staring with hooded eyes at Andy's increasingly reddening face. "I'll definitely be keeping my lips sealed tight." Around your cock, he thought.

"Okay…Thanks, I guess," said Nate questioningly, looking back and forth between them. Even he could feel the electricity. He grinned. Andy was finally gonna get some. He'd been trying for years to get him out of his shell, to go out and chase what he wanted. He insisted upon staying around the same group of friends he'd always had, never venturing out to see what the world had to offer. He was a great artist, he really was, but Nate was determined to help his friend out of the closet. Or, more accurately, in Andy's case, a big, person-sized safe inside the aforementioned closet of his secret panic room.

"So, if we're all done here, can we just take our merch and go? It's almost one."

Silence, more staring.

"Yoo-hoo! Okay, Jonathan, here's the deal. I'll give you Andy's number, if you'll let him take the dildo without calling the police. He really needs it, dude. No joke."

"NATE!"

Jonathan laughed out loud. "Don't worry about it, Andy. I think you'll really like it. The 8 series is really good for first timers. That's a good size too. I'm a little bigger, but you'll get used to me eventually." He grinned flirtatiously.

Andy already puce face deepened to near violet. He spluttered, trying to speak. He failed miserably.

Nate sniggered, writing Andy's number down on an x-rated post-it he'd found lying around. "Take him out somewhere nice. He's never been on a date before. If you hit and quit, I'll hunt you down. I'll find you too."

Jonathan laughed again. "You cannot find me," he said in a comic book villain voice. "I am Night Cop, ruler of the midnight hour! I am impossible to locate."

"That's what Carmen SanDiego thought, too."

"Well, I'd better get going. Those water coolers are precious. I'll give you a call, Andy. Your earlier actions your new toy were those of an ameteur, but I was impressed by your enthusiasm. Don't forget to clean up this mess. I don't want to have to answer any questions tomorrow."

Andy nearly lost consciousness.

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

Johnathan wiped the sweat from his brow as he walked into the air conditioned classroom. He looked down at his armpits, hoping the sweat damage wasn't too bad. There were pools of wet material that reached nearly to his waist, and the smell wasn't so hot either.

Nice.

He walked toward the front of the room, taking a seat near the right side. He jumped right back up almost as soon as he sat down- the chair seat was about 120 degrees.

Sometimes he really hated the Antelope Valley.

Thank god he was going to be leaving this place in the fall. He was transferring to UC San Diego to study marine biology and hopefully wouldn't see this place again until Christmas. 

As thoughts of sandy beaches and blue skies filled his head, his mind couldn't help but wander back to the previous night, and the hottie he'd seen licking the dildo. That image would be with him for a long time. He hadn't slept much the night before, and not just because of the heat. I should call him, Jonathan thought. Now's as good a time as any. 

He pulled out his cell phone, and scrolled through his contacts until he found Andy's name. He pressed call. The phone rang a few times, and then someone picked up.

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

Andy was going completely insane. 

He had needed sex before, but the Dirty Pleasures incident had made it a thousand times worse. His mind was focused on Jonathan constantly-his beautiful eyes, his sexy hair, the fact that he had witnessed Andy playing with the dildo- and Andy just couldn't get it out of his head. After suffering blue balls for nearly four hours, even though he had maturbated twice, he was finally forced to use the dildo. And boy, had he used it. 


The Dirty Pleasures Incident Ch. 02



Thank you all so much for the phenomenal response to the first chapter as well as all of the feedback. We authors live and die by your words, and yours have been nothing short of the ocean to my shore. I look forward to hearing more of it as I release more chapters.

Thanks for making my life more than history papers and chemistry labs. I'll try not to make it such and epic novel that your eyes fall out of your head for staring at the screen so long ; ).

Andy's feet squelched loudly in the softened earth, leaving deep, misshapen footprints on the path behind him as he walked along the narrow path between the trees, right hand linked loosely with Jonathan's left. It was near daybreak now, the sun, itself not yet visible, broadcasting its coming with ever brightening color splashes on the horizon. They walked in comfortable silence, reminiscing privately about the last evening's events, each every now and again catching the other's eye and smiling warmly. Just as the crickets' screeches began to fade, they arrived at the cabin, walked onto the back deck and sat in the lounge chairs, watching the sunrise; still silent when it ended, they slinked back inside and found their way to the bedroom, collapsing immediately onto a single narrow twin, their hands' touch never broken.

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

Jonathan roused first, the midday sun burning a hole in his midsection through the uncovered window. He looked over at Andy, unable to keep a smile from his lips has he took in his lover's appearance. Andy was covered nearly head to toe with a light coating of mud, the only clean sections being his lips, nipples, and belly button. His jeans were muddier than he was, soaked through and through with damp earth, hanging low on his hips; he had one leg bent with the ankle under the other knee, snoring softly, the air moving the thin covering at the sides of the window to and fro. His chestnut hair was matted with mud and grass, stains reaching even his forehead and his long, thick eyelashes. Jon brought his finger to Andy's brow, drawing an imaginary line down the bridge of his nose to the tip, and back again. Andy snorted adorably, and his eyes fluttered open. 

"Good morning, Carmen."

Andy smiled as he looked up at Jon, smiling unguardedly at the smudges of mud that had made their way to his front and wondering of how dirty his back was. Jon's hair hung low in his eyes, hiding his eyelids and contrasting shockingly with the ice of his irises, dulled somewhat by his recent slumber, but sharpening again already as they met Andy's sleepy gaze and wide smile. Andy's eyes traveled down his chest, softening lovingly at the sight of Jon's cuddly midsection. He loved soft middles, preferring them to the washboard abs so popular with guys his age. 

"Morning," he said with a yawn. 

"Time to get up, now, snorer. It's time to get all clean. We can't go back to the 'Dale like this, now can we?"

"Hmmmm....I suppose we did get a little dirty last night." He sat up. "Where's the bathroom?"

Jonathan stood up, smiling knowingly and staring Andy meaningfully in the eyes. "Right this way, babe."

Andy pursed his lips in mock irritation at the look in Jon's eyes, crossing his arms as he stood. "What happened to keeping your intentions honorable?"

"After last night, I could fuck you right up this wall and still be within the realm of honor."

Andy flushed at the graphic nature of his words, and followed him out the door. Jon sure knew how to get to him.

He entered the bathroom first, Jonathan's arms looped around his shoulders as he walked in behind him. Jonathan planted butterfly kisses on the back of his neck, graduating to gentle licks of his earlobe when Andy stopped to turn on the shower water. His hands slid lower down Andy's chest, settling the waistband of his jeans. 

"These are gonna have to go. Can't clean you up with these in my way, huh?"

"I'm sure my cleanliness is at the forefront of your mind."

Jon pulled Andy's waist backward toward his crotch, and Andy felt what was at the forefront of Jon's mind. His too, if he was honest. 

"Always," Jon whispered directly into his ear, pausing to give him another lick, then unbuttoning his jeans. By the time he had unzipped him, Andy was beginning to swell and breathe a little deeper.

"Mmmmm," he moaned as Jon peeled his pants off. He stepped out of them, and, feeling bold, turned to face Jon openly.

"What are you waiting for?" he asked quietly, well aware of the effect he was having on Jon. "Lose the britches."

Maintaining eye contact with him, Jon peeled his own pants off, revealing a full erection. He spread his legs slightly, rocking his hips forward at Andy. "Get in, we're gonna run out of hot water," he ordered.

Andy stepped backward into the large corner shower, eyes glazed and transfixed on Jon's crotch. He stood directly under the shower head, the water making little rivers down his body and exposing clean skin in its wake. Jon stepped in immediately after him, pressing him to the wall and pinning his arms, bent at the elbow, just above his head. 

Leaning forward, he pressed his body against Andy's, making it a point to rub his cock against Andy's. He was rewarded with a low moan from Andy, accompanied by a rough forward thrust of his hips. He pressed his lips to Andy's, forcefully shoving his tongue into his mouth. Andy fought his entry, trying to hold his lips closed against Jon's tongue. Jon gripped his wrists tighter and pressed them harder against the back tile, grinding his cock into Andy's crotch and forcing him cry out. As soon as his mouth opened, Jon took the opportunity to get his tongue in, this time subduing Andy's tongue completely and keeping his mouth open.

"Stop fighting me," Jon commanded, his voice several octaves lower than usual. He stared Andy directly into his eyes, looking downward slightly to exaggerate the difference in their heights. "Now."

Andy twisted his hips sharply to the right, trying to break their intense connection. Jon pulled his wrists off of the wall slightly and dug his nails into Andy's arms. Andy cried out loudly at the pain and began to leak large amounts of precum. Since the shower was at Jonathan's back, he noticed the reaction and gave Andy a knowing smirk. Andy flushed to the roots of his hair, looking off to the right.

Andy didn't know what was happening to him. In his mind, he knew he had no reason to resist Jon's advances; the one's he'd made today so far were pretty vanilla given what had taken place the previous night. But he found himself frighteningly attracted to Jon's aggressive side during their lovemaking even then, unable to hold back after Jon had held his wrists behind his back. It was like Jon was possessing him, owning him; like he wanted to let Andy know who was boss when they fucked. And he loved it. When Jon had dug his nails into his wrists the moment before, Andy felt electricity shoot up and down his spine, and his balls had started throbbing immediately. He knees went weak, his nipples, hard, and he began to leak harder, his cock aching begging for relief. 

Well, well, well, look what we have here, Jonathan thought to himself, looking at Andy's trembling form and swelling with satisfaction. A little freak. Guess all that time repressing his feelings drove him a little crazy. He loved the submissive ones. Even in high school, they'd been his favorite, obeying his every order during sex and begging as hard as they could for him to finish them. They'd even been submissive when they'd topped him, holding back until he gave them permission to come. He loved the powerful feelings running the show during sex gave him; it was funny, he wasn't at all controlling in any other aspect of his life. And now I have this one, he thought. Just begging to be broken. 

Ask and ye shall receive.

Andy saw Jon's eyes flash with recognition, and felt an embarrassment equal to that which he felt during the sex store shenanigan. He looked back up at Jon, pleading with his eyes for him to continue. Jon smirked again. He released Andy's wrists and stepped back slightly. 

"Well, we're not in here for nothing. Give me the soap."

"Wh-What?" Andy asked drunkenly, still a little thrown by the situation. "What for?"

"You're all dirty," Jon replied. "We came in here to clean you up, and that's what we're gonna do. Now, give me the fucking soap. "

Jon's voice had retained its former authority, his eyes cold stones in his head as he held out his palm. Andy's erection throbbed even harder, nearly painful in its rigidity. He reached behind him for the soap, then handed it to Jon, his eyes downcast. "Here."

"Thank you," Jon replied formally, his demeanor businesslike. "Turn around and put your hands up on the wall."

Sure Jon was going to fuck him, Andy turned around quickly and put his hands against the wall, in police strip search position, his back to Jonathan. He spread his legs a little.

Andy picked up a loofah off of a hook and poured some soap on it. After massaging it into a lather, he turned his attention back to Andy. Beginning with his neck and shoulders, Jon scrubbed the back of Andy's torso, scrubbing gently and seductively. He then moved to his ass, the lobes which he caressed gently, making sure not to go into the cleft, knowing how desperate Andy would be for the contact. Lingering on the backs of his thighs, he washed the rest of Andy's legs and his feet. He stood.

"Turn around."

Andy, trembling harder than ever and desperate for a touch, turned as quickly as he could, his expression hopeful. Jonathan returned it with a cold stare and a scowl. 

"Sit," he said, gesturing to the built-in corner shelf.

Andy sat down, his legs parted wide to keep from falling off of the bench, which didn't have much depth. He looked up at Jonathan, beads of water glistening on his skin and his cock pointed at his own chin. Jonathan nearly cracked, overcoming the desire to bend him over and fuck him stupid with the desire to fulfill Andy's fantasy. Andy needed this, he begged for it every time they were alone. Jon refused to let him down with a quickie just to sate his own need.

Re-soaping the loofah, he scrubbed Andy's chest, lingering excessively on his nipples. He rubbed the loofah in little circles directly on top of them, licking his lips and staring at Andy intently as he teased him, waiting for a response. Andy finally cracked, breathing hard and wiggling his thighs. "Jon, I need more, come on..."

Jon rubbed harder.

Andy gasped, then frowned. "You know that isn't what I mean," he snapped, glaring at Jonathan. "Stop it."

Jonathan froze.

"What did you say to me?" he asked dangerously.

Sensing he had made a mistake, Andy looked for a way out. "I, uh....I just..."

"Just...what?"

"I wanna come! What do you think? You've been teasing me since we got in here, you know wh-" 

Before Andy knew what was happening, Jon's hand was high in the air. He brought it down hard onto Andy's inner thigh with a resounding smack, which echoed off of the walls for a full five seconds. Andy growled in indignation and grabbed the loofah, throwing it across the bathroom. He started to stand, but Jonathan shoved him back onto the shelf. Jon reached out to him and twisted his nipple cruelly. 

"AH!" Andy yelled. Jon continued to twist his left nipple, reaching out with his other hand and gently pulling and teasing the right. 

"Oh....stop it! I...ohh...I, Jon...." The pain was heightening his senses somehow, and the feelings Jon was creating in his right nipple were magnified. His whole body was on high alert, hypersensitive and aware of every touch it received. He could feel the cold bench on his balls acutely, and began rocking his hips back and forth against it. He reached out a hand and grabbed his cock, his fingers like a vice on his shaft and he stroked it at a blinding pace, his senses on overload. He moaned and screamed loudly and incoherently, his voice echoing like the earlier slap. Jon's hands released his nipples abruptly, and one of them came back down onto his thigh again, harder this time. Andy was forced to release his cock, instead rubbing the area where Jon's hand had connected with him. 

"Ohhhhh," said Andy weakly, unable to think of what to do next. He decided to just sit and wait for instructions, his cock hurting badly now, precum collecting in a little pool between his legs on the bench. The shower, cold and long forgotten, still ran in the other corner.

Jon had to take a few deep breaths to keep from passing out. The rush of blood to his groin at the sight of Andy's response to his teasing had left him a little light headed. He hadn't realized how difficult it would be to hold back from Andy something he so desperately wanted and Jon was so willing to give. He's thought it would be fun to tease Andy, make him wait as long as Jon wanted before he let him come, but Jon needed it more than he did. His balls were doing the aching again, feeling just like they did right before he came. Only now, the feeling remained, keeping him on the edge of a cliff he desperately needed to jump off of. He turned back to Andy, hoping his feelings were hidden behind the stone mask he'd put on.

He got down on his knees, scooting close to Andy. He reached out and took hold of Andy's cock, stroking long and slow from base to tip. Andy sucked in air between his teeth, curling and uncurling his toes. Jon stopped stroking and began fingering the head, gently rubbing the underside of it and relentlessly teasing Andy's little hole, which was now leaking copious amounts of very cloudy precum.

It had the desired effect.

Andy's eyes took on a wild, thoughtless look, and he became unable to focus them on any one spot too long. His hips began to buck of their own accord, his legs opening and closing in time with their thrusts. "Ah...ah...ah," Andy moaned with each frustratingly gentle stroke of Jon's hand. "Please...please...harder....please...please...

Jonathan..."

Jonathan's stomach dropped. 

He released Andy's cock and stood. He grabbed Andy by the armpits on his way up, pinning his shoulders to the wall as he crushed his lips against Andy's, tongue whipping back and forth inside his mouth and nearly reaching Andy's tonsils. He moaned loudly along with Andy, never having been so hungry for someone in his entire life. Knowing he couldn't last much longer, he pulled back.

He reached around and gripped the globes of Andy's ass, lifting him up. Andy went to wrap his legs around Jon's waist; Jon allowed the left one to grip his waist, but he took the right one and put it over his shoulder. He backed Andy into the wall, pressing his back up against the tile. Gripping the shaft of his cock, he positioned it at Andy's entrance. 

"Jon," Andy said, still incoherent and unfocused.

"Yes?" Jon asked desperately, needing to be inside Andy with everything in him.

"Do it hard."

Jon growled, the sound originating deep in his diaphragm and slowly making its way out of his mouth. He thrust as hard as he could into Andy's channel.

Andy screamed out his pain and pleasure, his cries coinciding with Jon's thrusts as he slammed into Andy again and again, going deeper every time. Tears streamed down Andy's cheeks as his back slid up and down the shower wall with the force of Jon's thrusts and he bellowed Jonathan's name. After several more body-wracking slams, he locked eyes with Jonathan, and began to tremble violently.

"I...I...I...AAAHHH!" 

His scream was short lived, dying as his orgasm sapped his ability to breathe. His cock flapped wildly, squirting long jets of cum into the air. The first landed with a small splash on his face, some dribbling into his mouth; the rest thwacked onto his chest and splattered onto the shower walls and floor. His body convulsed uncontrollably as Jon continued to slam into him, more shallowly but just as hard, prolonging his orgasm with each strike of his prostate. After the last of his cum dribbled from the end of his cock, he took aloud, shuddering breath. 

Jonathan still slammed into him, control gone now, smacking his back against the tiles. He lay limp unable to move, and let Jon support him, his left leg hanging lifelessly toward the floor. Jonathan finally exploded inside him- he could feel the heat of each shot of cum that gushed out of Jonathan's cock, coating his insides and dribbling out, running down his thighs and dripping onto the floor. They collapsed into a tangled heap, Jonathan gasping for breath as he pulled Andy to him, kissing his lips sloppily. They lay there for a long, long time.

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

Andy waited in the car for Jon to come out of the house. How long could he possibly take getting a couple of bags? They'd only brought two. He looked out the back window impatiently, sending Jon a telepathic message. Get out here.

After this weekend, he didn't know how he was going to survive being away from Jonathan for any length of time. While they were here, they hadn't gone a full half hour without kissing, touching, or full on groping one another, even while hiking or just watching TV, and Andy just didn't see how he was going to stomach going home every night alone for the rest of the summer. 

Just then, Jonathan appeared in the cabin's doorway. Finally, Andy thought. He made his way over to the car, and Andy saw what had been holding him up. He was on his cell phone talking intently to someone. His brow was furrowed, and he was massaging it with his hand. He said goodbye, hung up, the got in the driver's seat next to Andy. He started the car, and began the journey back to the highway in silence.

"Care to share?" Andy asked, curious about what had him so worried and serious all of a sudden. 

Jonathan appeared to think about something momentarily, then shrugged. "It's nothing, really." 

Andy raised his eyebrows.

"Okay, it's not nothing, but I'm not sure it's something either."

"Maybe if you said it, I could help you decide."

Jonathan smiled. "You know how I told you about how the water coolers had been stolen from Greenpeace that night you stole the dildo?"

"No, I had forgotten all about that night," Andy replied sarcastically.

"Well, yeah, I guess that's a difficult experience to forget. Well, somebody brought them all back."

"What?"

"Yeah, I know. Weird, huh?"

"Well, they are practical jokers, and this is Palmdale."

"Yeah, I know, but they brought them all back at once, in pristine condition. They were all brand new when we bought them, and they still look that way. It's like they borrowed them for a party and then brought them back."

"It sounds like you should be happy, then, right? You won't have to do night duty anymore. At least not at Greenpeace," Andy quipped. 

Jonathan grinned stupidly. "Yeah, I know, and I'd be all for it, except for the note."

"Note?"

"Yeah they left a note with them outside the office."

"What did it say?"

He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and read it aloud.

"'The world's not green; it has no true peace. You pay your rent, or break the lease. I know what you seek, and hope to find, but it won't be discovered within their minds. They may not care where, and they may not care when, but they live to make sure that it happens again. So in this place to call home, we put our trust, cause it's all of them, or all of us.'" 

"Wow. That's...cryptic."

"I know, that's what worries me so much. That's pretty heavy stuff for just a prank. I have no idea what it means, but I think someone's trying to send us a message. And I don't think it's a good one." 



The Dirty Pleasures Incident Ch. 03



It's all of them, or all of us.

The words echoed in Jonathan's head as he navigated the highway back into the valley, silent all the way. He wondered what the author meant by them. Somehow, Jonathan was sure that this incident was more than just a prank- somebody meant business. And they'd left a note, like serial killers did when they wanted the police to riddle out the meaning and find them. What he couldn't understand was why someone would want to send a message like that to some Greenpeace workers. What did it have to do with them?

Andy looked over at Jon, who was gripping the steering wheel with Herculean force and frowning deeply. He was really worked up over this note. 

Andy thought for sure it was just a prank, something some high school kids with an affinity for riddles had done to pass the time, but Jon was convinced it was something more sinister. Andy thought that was a little far-fetched- Greenpeace workers weren't really ideal terror targets, were they? 

But he had to admit that the circumstances were a little strange - why return the water coolers? It just didn't make sense. Oh well, the thought, rubbing sun block on his arms. Guess we'll find out soon enough.

The road lengthened out to a quarter mile stretch with dry shrubs and tumbleweed lining the sides as they approached the entrance to the valley, and Jonathan turned right onto Pearblossom highway. He turned to Andy, his face set.

"We have to figure out what's going on. I have a really bad feeling about this."

"Okay," Andy replied cautiously, reaching for the radio knob. "But I have to go home first. I'm a tour guide for freshmen orientation week at San Marcos. My dad and I are driving down tomorrow, and I'll be there for like a week. Can we put it off till then?" he added, giving Jon a rather dirty smile. "I'll make it worth your while."

His hand moved slowly off of his seat and onto Jonathan's thigh. Jon's breath caught in his throat as Andy's hand moved further and further up his thigh, settling on top of his zipper. When he began to wiggle his fingers, Jon reached down and smacked his hand.

Andy snatched it back, laughing. 

"So that's what I get for trying to play with you, huh?" he said, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "I hadn't realized I was saddled with such a prude. This is going to be a boring summer."

"I can not drive with you doing that," Jon replied, still a little breathless. "This street is not the place for me to be distracted. As for the rest of the summer, we'll just see how bored you are. I'm gonna be at your house every day. Your legs will never close properly again."

Andy smiled again, then sobered. "I don't know about every day," he said, his eyes suddenly downcast. "My dad might get suspicious."

"Your dad doesn't know you're gay?"

"No, I haven't plucked up the courage to tell him."

"Do you think he'll be upset?"

"No, I don't think so. Some of his friends are bisexual, and he doesn't seem to have a problem with them. Live and let live, that's his motto."

"Then what's the problem?"

"I don't know," Andy answered truthfully. "For some reason, I just feel like it would be a really bad idea to tell him. I can't explain it, and it doesn't make any sense, but there you go."

"You're just nervous, it's common enough," Jon said, putting on his left turn signal as he got in the lane to turn onto Andy's street. "It's normal to be apprehensive about coming out. Most of us go through it. You should tell him, Andy. It's not good to keep secrets from people you love, you'll just end up hurting them."

Andy looked lovingly over at Jon as they turned into his driveway, a closed-mouthed smile on his lips. "Thank you, Confucius."

"I'm serious, Andy," Jon said, cutting the ignition. "You don't want him to catch you in the act one day or find out from someone else. He'll think you don't trust him." 

"You sound like you know from experience."

"I do," he said sadly, his eyes darkening. "Before he died, my dad and I used to do everything together. He took me hiking, we played t-ball, he even lowered the basketball hoop in the front yard to I could dunk it." Jon's eyes misted nostalgically, his gazed fixed on some point behind Andy's head. A lock of hair fell into his eyes, but he didn't seem to notice. "When I realized I was gay, I was scared out of my mind. I had heard the stories of how people's parents had kicked them out on the street when they'd found out their children were gay, and I couldn't stand the thought of that happening to me. So I kept my mouth shut."

"What ended up happening?" Andy asked softly, looking Jon in the eyes.

"I went through most of high school still hiding it from him. I would bring guys over and hide them in my room. When we were finished, I'd let them out the back door or out the window. Until I met Bobby. We really clicked, you know? We went out for about a year, and I really loved him. It was so hard not to share it with my family, and I hated the lying to cover up where I'd been and why I was so happy. It nearly tore me apart." 

"What happened to him?" Andy asked, a note of jealousy creeping into his voice.

Jon heard it, and smiled. "Bobby? Oh, he moved to Nor Cal for college. Lives in Davis. I still talk to him sometimes, but we're just friends now."

"What happened with your dad?" 

"He got sick. Stomach cancer. The doctors only gave him a few months, it was really late stage." He paused for a moment, swallowing hard before going on. "I finally broke down and told him about Bobby. I said I couldn't take the lying and the hiding anymore, even if he hated me for what I was."

"Did he?"

"No. He told me that I should have known I could trust him to love me no matter what. He said he thought I knew that families stuck together, no matter what happened. He said he didn't understand what he had done to make me think he wouldn't accept me." Jon paused again, swallowing, although a littler harder than he had before. "He said he wanted to meet Bobby."

"Wow."

"Yeah. I brought him over and they talked and they got on really well. Those last few months were some of the best of my life. It felt so good not to have to hide anymore. He died that October, right before Halloween."

"I'm so sorry." 

"Don't be," Jon whispered, wiping an unshed tear from his eye. "We had a great run. I wouldn't change what we had for anything. Lots of people have their parents for their entire lives and don't have anything close to what we had."

Andy sat silently, mulling over what Jonathan had just told him. After a few minutes, Jon spoke again.

"You really should tell him Andy, even if your scared."

"I will."

"Good."

Jon leaned over, taking old of Andy's shoulder and pulling him toward him. He kissed him passionately, his hand wandering down to Andy's waist and gripping it tightly. Andy pushed back against his lips earnestly, letting is lips fall open and inviting Jon's tongue inside. Jon pulled back.

"Not right now, greedy," he said playfully, ruffling Andy's hair. "Go on, get inside. I have to go to work today, and you have to get ready for your little freshmen thingy."

"Okay, okay," Andy conceded, opening his door. "Call me later?"

"Number one on my speed dial."

Andy grinned the hundred watt grin Jon had fallen in love with, and turned to go inside. When he got to the front porch, he turned around, waving before he opened the door and disappeared inside.

Jon turned the key, listening to his car rumble reluctantly to life. He was going to have to get a new one soon. 

He backed down Andy's driveway and headed down the street, turning right onto Rancho Vista. Remembering the events that had taken place the last time he'd driven down this street, he smiled absently, joining the freeway near Popeye's.

His thoughts strayed back to the note, and his absent smile slid from his face. He wished he could believe he was overreacting, but in his heart, he knew he wasn't. Something sketch was going on, and he was going to find out what.

**** 

Andy sat down hard on his suitcase, trying to get the two sides of its zipper close enough to close them. On his third try, he tugged on the zipper, closing the gap with a loud rip. Somewhat breathless, he pushed it off of his bed and onto the floor, sitting down heavily. He was really going to have to invest in some of those vacuum space bags. 

He was really looking forward to the trip tomorrow- he and his father hadn't had much one on one time lately. It would be good to spend some time together, get to know each other again. Andy really needed to be comfortable if he was going to come out to him anytime soon.

Ah, but should he? That was the question he kept asking himself. He knew it was best to be honest, and he didn't like hiding who he was, he really didn't- but he felt unusually apprehensive about coming clean. 

You're just being silly, he thought to himself, pulling on his pajama bottoms. You can talk to him about anything else without worrying. This isn't this any different.

Except that it was. For some reason he couldn't explain, he got an unusually heavy feeling in his abdomen, like when he had been younger and was approaching a dark closet at night. Dread, he thought to himself.

He lay brooding for a moment or two longer, finally dismissing it from his mind with a heavy sigh. He was just over thinking things again.

He stood up, picking up the clothes he'd had on all day and went to throw them in the hamper. As he tossed his jeans into the hamper, Jonathan's work I.D. fell out of his pocket. How the hell did that get in there? he thought, smiling and remembering the weekend. Maybe Jon put it in- his pants didn't have any pockets. A lot of good it did him, since he forgot to take it back.

He picked up the card, setting it on top of his dresser. He caught sight of Jonathan's midnight black hair in the photo, one lock falling into is eye as always, and his mind jumped back to the kiss they'd shared that morning in Jon's car.

Mmmm, he thought, turning down his covers and reaching for his bedside table light. Such nice, soft lips. Pouty, like Orlando Bloom's. 

As he lay down, he could still feel Jon's tongue running the rim of his bottom lip, just before he'd pulled back that morning. Don't start that, he admonished himself as he began to stiffen. Haven't you had enough for one day?

Some parts of him evidently hadn't, because he stiffened further and his thoughts drifted back to the cabin. Specifically, the cabin shower.

He could still feel the sting of Jon's slap on his thigh, and he could still see Jon's eyes, that look, the one that seemed to burn him with it's intensity and power. A bead of sweat ran out of Andy's hair at the base of his scalp, trickling down onto his shoulder and onto the sheet. He breathed a little deeper as he remembered being pinned to the wall while Jon fucked him roughly, and he started to get that exhilarated, heightened feeling again, the one that made him aware of everything that was touching his skin.

His cock was now a rock in his pants, solid and insistent in its throbbing state. He reached under the blanket, ready to stroke hard and fast so he could get some sleep, then stopped, just shy of the waistband of his pajama bottoms. 

Jon wouldn't let it be fast, he thought hotly. Jon would make sure it lasted a good, long time.

He let his fingertips wander down past his waist, but instead of slipping into his pants, they remained on the outside. He let his fingers graze the head of his cock through the faux flannel fabric, inhaling sharply through clenched teeth as his cock jolted desperately at the teasing touch, sending jolts of pleasure through his abdomen.

He took his middle finger- this one felt dirtier somehow- and began making slow, teasing circles around the head, focusing intermittently on his hole, rubbing his finger back and forth across it gently and in rapid succession, in between the clockwise roundstrokes. He reached his other hand down then, and drug his nails down the his length, making sure there wasn't enough pressure to get him even close to orgasm. He continued the tease for almost fifteen minutes, thinking of all the wonderful things Jon had done to him since they'd met, and by the time they had passed, there were tears of desperation running down his cheeks and his entrance had begun to throb hungrily in time with his cock.

He withdrew his hands suddenly, letting them settle on to of the covers. He was dripping with sweat, and despite his original intention to tease himself to the breaking point and have an intense explosion in the morning, he knew he was going to have to finish tonight or go insane. 

He threw back the covers, his cock bouncing in his pajamas, and opened his nightstand table drawer, pulling out his little tube of lube. He stood.

He walked over to his bathroom, opening the door carefully so he wouldn't wake his dad, and shutting it just as carefully behind him. He opened the drawer beside the sink and pulled out his new favorite toy.

Tearing off his pajama bottoms, he tossed them into the tub. He sat down on the floor, facing the mirror on the back of the door, and spread his legs as wide as he could, his cock now pointing straight at his chin, angry and red. He looked at his face first- he always did now, ever since he'd gotten the toy and started using it, he loved the mirror- noting the high flush in his cheeks and the sweat on his collarbone.

Unable to hold out any longer, his hands wandered down to his balls, cupping and massaging them gently, and his cock began to dribble, precum running down the shaft and onto his fingers. He let out a quiet, shaky moan.

One finger wandered down to the tight little pucker beneath his balls, and he began to tap it gently, stopping every now and then to rub around it teasingly, barely able to keep quiet. He reached for the lube up on the counter, flipping open the little cap and squirting a little out onto his fingers, and tossed the bottle onto the floor in front of him. His finger returned to its task of teasing his hole, and he spread the lubricant around his opening, waiting for the tingling to begin. 

When it did, he began to huff deeply, and pushed the tip of his finger inside. It slid in easily, his channel having had a lot of use lately, and he pushed it in further, reveling in the sensation of being penetrated again. He let out a series of breathy groans, trying desperately to keep quiet. He slid his finger out, then rammed it back in, adding another along with it. He fingered himself unashamedly, thrusting them in and out of his hungry little hole as he rocked back and forth, biting his bottom lip in an effort to stifle his tortured groans.

He slipped all of his fingers out, feeling himself getting too close to the edge. He picked up the phallus, once again flipping open the top to the bottle of lube and squirting some onto his palm. He coated the vibrator generously, making sure to put extra on the head. Satisfied, he tossed the lube aside, and place the head of the toy at his opening.

He rubbed it back and forth and around his hole, teasing himself mercilessly, until he finally broke and shoved it in, all in one stroke. He felt the head pop inside, stretching him as Jon had only a few hours before. He could feel every solid inch slide into his cavern, massaging the walls and touching him in places he hadn't known existed before Jonathan.

"Mmmm," he said, lost in the moment, fumbling for the switch that would make it vibrate. "Ooooh, yes…" He found it, and flipped in into the on position. 

"Ah!" he moaned, far louder than he had intended to. It felt as though someone was stroking his length from the inside, teasing it and driving him crazy. He watched intently as he began to slide the toy in and out in quick succession, and he knew that the vibration coupled with this would drive him over the edge in seconds.

Tap, tap, tap.

Andy's stomach dropped as he heard the noise, which was coming from outside of the bathroom. He jumped up, toy still vibrating inside him, but momentarily forgotten. He reached for his pants, stepping into them as he picked up the lube off of the floor and tossed it into the bathroom drawer, closing it. He pulled them up, his erection deflating in his current state of terror.

Tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.

He turned off the bathroom light, stepping back into the bedroom. It was probably his dad tapping on the door as he sometimes did late at night. Wouldn't want to walk in on something personal, his father had told him.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.

It was coming from the window. That was odd.

Andy walked over to it, pulling back his curtain and looking out, squinting against the full moon's glare.

Jon's face stared back at him, grinning widely. He waved, and motioned for Andy to open the window. A flood of relief flowed through Andy, quickly replaced by confusion and apprehension. What the hell was Jon thinking coming here this time of night?

"What are you doing here?!" Andy whispered loudly, sliding his window open as slowly as he could. "It's one o'clock in the morning!"

"You didn't think I'd let you go off for a week without a proper goodbye, did you?" he said, as he climbed in, using Andy's nightstand as a stepping stool before settling onto the floor. 

Andy sighed, then closed the window behind him. "You're going to get me caught, you know that?"

"Whatever," Jon said, taking off his jacket and tossing it onto the floor. "Now get over here. I've got to go to work early tomorrow, and I have to leave here before sunrise."

He took hold of Andy's hips, pulling him in for a kiss. One of his hands reached into Andy's pants. He slipped his hand around Andy's cock. Andy gasped sharply as his knees buckled suddenly, and he stumbled, trying to remain on his feet as Jon fondled him.

The still-vibrating toy jumped back to the forefront of his mind, and Andy groaned aloud as he became aware once again of it's pulsing. The momentary scare now over, he began to leak precum profusely, his thighs shuddering violently as Jon stroked his member, unaware of Andy's extra stimulation.

Jon, who had been suckling Andy's collarbone, pulled back slightly, his hand still in Andy's pants. He looked at his lover, perplexed.

"What's got you so worked up?" he prodded gently, moving his hand back to Andy's balls and beginning to fondle them. "I'm barely touching you, and it feels like you're about to lose it. What gives?"

Andy, unable to speak as Jon's hand moved back to his throbbing head, groaned loudly again, his knees buckling inward, unable to support his weight any longer. He fell into Jon, who grabbed his lower back and tried to help him back to his feet.

"Ohhhh…." Andy moaned again, trying to stand still. "I… I was…before…"

"What?" Jon asked confusedly, enjoying Andy's rather intense reaction to his teasing. "You must be really horny, babe. Good thing I came over, huh?"

Jon moved his hand further into Andy's pants, prepared to finger him open. He's obviously more than ready for me, he thought, smiling arrogantly.

He stopped when his hand reached Andy's hole, or at least the place it should have been. In its place, he found what felt like a large, rubber circle.

"Uh-oh," Jon said teasingly. "What have we here?"

He grabbed the sides of it, pulling it out slightly. He was surprised to feel the intense vibrations it gave. 

"So this is what has you so excited, so quickly," He said mischievously, sliding it out about two inches, then pushing it back in. "Poor thing, did I interrupt you?"

Andy's breathing was very shallow now, and he was depending entirely on Jon for support. A desperate groan accompanied each breath.




The Dirty Pleasures Incident Ch. 04



Sorry there's so much space between the chapters - it's finals week and I'm a little preoccupied. The whole series will be around twelve chapters long, and later chapters will probably be spaced closer together than these first few; bear with me. Thanks a lot for your support in this series - I'm very glad to know that you're enjoying it and want to know what happens to these characters. My comments section is a little dry, so I want to encourage everyone to drop me a line, even a critical one. Thanks!

Here's a copy of the letter, in case you forgot what it said.

"The world's not green; it has no true peace. You pay your rent, or break the lease. I know what you seek, and hope to find, but it won't be discovered within their minds. They may not care where, and they may not care when, but they live to make sure that it happens again. So in this place to call home, we put our trust, cause it's all of them, or all of us."

**** 

The lobby of the office glowed a burnt orange as the sun's rays, fading fast, gave a final burst of intense light. The lint lined up in the rays of sunlight that stretched at an angle from the front window to the floor, floating softly in the still air. Jonathan sat behind the desk in his rolling chair, his posture reclined, and waited for closing time. He could still hear Anna typing away at her keyboard in the back office, which was leased to Save the Children, as she sent out final memos for the following days' canvass. His eyes struggled to remain open, the sound of her keystrokes fading out until they seemed far away as his eyelids closed completely for a moment, then jerked open guiltily as he remembered where he was. He reconfigured his posture into a sitting position, where he would eventually slide back down into a Lay-Z-Boy recline, and the entire process would begin again.

This whole all-night-hookup-the-night-before-work routine with Andy is going to have to be more the exception than the rule, he thought to himself as he snapped out of another miniature nap. He smiled, remembering the look on Andy's face when he'd shown up at the window. The shocked and nervously tense expression was so cute on his face, especially because of the x-rated reasons he was wearing it. I can't imagine who wouldn't be jumpy with that thing inside them, he reminisced, his smile broadening. He was going to remember that night for a long time. His mind still on it, he fell slowly back into his nap cycle, his eyes fluttering closed.

His entire body jerked awake and he leapt up out of his chair as the entire front window exploded with shower of broken glass. Before he could process what had happened, the glass door exploded inward as well, the spray reaching him behind the desk and stinging his skin as it flew at the wall behind him. Large rocks - some of which had been used to break the glass, Jonathan noticed now - flew in through the open squares where the door and window had been, landing on the floor in front of the desk. 

Another flew toward his head, and Jonathan dropped to the floor just in time, crawling under the desk as more rocks followed. He could hear more of them hitting outside and the top of the desk, breaking a vase or flowers and dumping the water down onto his computer. Some of the rocks struck the wall behind the desk, leaving huge indentations. Anna screamed in the back office, shutting the door and locking it behind her. He heard her dialing the phone not long after. 

When the barrage finally ended a few minutes later, Jonathan crawled out tentatively from beneath the desk, looking around cautiously for signs that the attack wasn't finished. Finding none, he stood at full height, surveying the damage. 

All of the glass that had once stood between the lobby and the sidewalk was now gone. Several of the walls had enormous holes in them, and the pictures and awards that had lined the walls lay in ruins on the floor. The glass countertop of the front desk was also shattered, enormous shards of glass laying in pieces on the floor. As Jon had feared, the broken vase had spilled its water onto his computer monitor, which was smoking and making some rather peculiar noises. Two of the florescent lights in the ceiling had also been broken, and a single tube hung precariously from its socket, swinging back and forth in the light breeze that now flowed through the office. 

Still in shock, Jonathan looked down at the rocks that covered the carpet beneath him. They were of medium size, large enough to cause damage, but small enough to throw with reasonable accuracy. And, Jonathan saw now, there were notes taped to them. Jonathan picked one up, reading the angled script carefully.





The Dirty Pleasures Incident Ch. 05



Andy sat in the clearing where he and Jon had first made love, looking up at the stars. He was waiting for Jon, who was supposed to meet him here. It was a little cold, and off to the right he could see a bright light that had to be a fire. It looked so warm over there. 

It was as quiet and peaceful as it had been the day they had come here, except for the crickets around him that screeched loudly, their cries echoing in the darkness. The misplaced fireflies glinted near the trees, and Andy stared at them too, trying to track their movements. Where is Jonathan? he wondered silently. Why isn't he here with me? 

The wind blew harder, raising gooseflesh on his arms and legs. He looked over at the warm fire one more time, trying to decide whether or not to go over there. It was cold here in the clearing.

He got up and began walking toward the light in the trees, feeling oddly sad. He felt like he was leaving Jon behind by going toward the warmth. That's silly, he told himself. Jon wouldn't want you to be cold. As he reached the edge of the clearing, he hesitated. 

"Andrew…" a voice called from behind him.

His head snapped around, seeking its owner. Seeing nobody, he moved to walk back into the woods. 

"Stop…" the echoed voice called again. Andy did, this time walking a short distance back into the clearing. 

"Who's there?" he asked the darkness, the wind chilling him again and this time more fiercely. He shivered. 

"You can't go that way. It's not the right way…"

"What are you talking about?"

"You must go the in opposite direction…" The voice grew more solid as Andy walked away from the fire.

"It's cold over here," he said, shivering harder as the temperature dropped a good twenty degrees. His side began to ache as well, though he had only taken a few steps. "I don't want to go this way!" he called, the pain sharpening. "It's cold and it hurts!"

"I know," the voice said, and this time Andy thought he recognized it. "I know, baby, but it's not time yet."

"Not time?" He asked, confused. "Not time for what? What are you talking about?" The pain in his abdomen was growing immensely with each step he took toward the voice. His head began to throb too, and his leg started to lose it's strength. He ambled toward the voice, trying to place it. He could swear he had heard it before. 

"Who are you? What do you want?" he asked desperately, the pain terrible now. He was nearly crying, but he really wanted to know who was talking. It seemed important, somehow. 

"That's right, this way…" the voice called. It seemed further away now, back into the dark side of the woods. As he stumbled toward the edge of the clearing opposite the fire, an enormous pain shot through his chest. He collapsed to the ground, crying out. 

"What's going on?!" he screamed, rolling back and forth as another bolt of pain shocked his chest. He was crying freely now, the pain overwhelming him. 'Why can't I go get warm?"

He could hear the voice speaking, but it was too far away for him to decipher the words. He crawled on his stomach out of the clearing and into the darkness in front of him, obsessively searching for the voice. "Where are you?" he called. He heard the voice again, and realized it was a different voice than the one he had heard previously. This one was yelling one word over and over.

"…ear!" 

It was shouting from far away, and Andy could only hear the echo. Ear? he thought, another jab of pain exploding in his chest. What the hell does 'ear' have to do with this?

The voice shouted the word again, and this time, a huge burst of light exploded before Andy's eyes, swallowing the woods in front of him. What the fuck is going on? he wondered. Another jet of pain struck his chest, and this one was so great Andy was sure it would kill him. The light ahead of him opened wider, and he was sucked into it. He felt himself fall over some kind of edge, and then he was tumbling, down, down, down.

****

"Clear!" Montgomery shouted again. 

When the monitor finally displayed something other than a flat line, he took a huge sigh of relief. The surgery - well, surgeries - had gone smooth as a baby ass, and he would have been severely pissed off if he had lost the kid to a drop in blood pressure.

When the alarms stopped going off, Montgomery closed the kid up, and Winters and the nurses wheeled him off to recovery. Not today, Jesus, he thought. This one's mine. 

As he washed his hands and took off his gear, he marveled at how lucky the kid was to have survived, given the number of times he'd coded. Most of them were gone at two, but this kid came back after five. The young and the restless, he thought, chuckling. It was good to be able to deliver some news that wouldn't cause anyone to contemplate suicide for a change. Lord knew it didn't happen often in his line of work. 

He dried his hands, and headed out to the waiting room.

****

Nate paced back and forth in front of Jonathan, wringing his hands and sweating profusely. He was as pale as a gray sheet, and his eyes kept darting toward the door that the doctor had disappeared through. Jonathan looked up at him, thinking that he looked very cliché. He also looked just how Jonathan felt.

Jonathan had never experienced such mind numbing terror in his life. 

He had driven down here himself, but he barely remembered it. It was over two hundred miles, and he had probably almost killed himself driving in this state. But there had simply been no other choice, at least not in his mind. He hadn't even said anything to Nate; he had simply dropped the phone and walked out to his car in his t-shirt and boxers, and began driving. He supposed he had stopped for gas at least once along the way, but he couldn't remember it for the life of him. 

His core was completely frozen. It was tense, as though he were expecting a wild animal to jump out of some bushes at any moment. His face was set, his muscles not moving an inch and his eyes were fixed unflinchingly on the door Nate kept glancing at. He had barely blinked in the hours since he had arrived. 

His hands gripped his knees, his knuckles white. His entire frame trembled slightly, as though there were a low level earthquake taking place within him. On the outside, Jonathan was in complete shock. But inside, he was anything but frozen.

Inside his head, he was running and screaming and crying, crying out for Andy. Inside, memories ran amok, playing over and over at warp speed. The store. The clearing. The weekend. Andy's room. Holding Andy. There was lots of that last one. He thought most often of holding Andy.

What's wrong with you?! He screamed at himself. Why are you just sitting here like nothing's wrong? Andy's in there! He's dying! He's going to die, and you're just hanging out here, not a care in the world, aren't you? It's your fault he's here, you know. You're the one who made him tell-

Jonathan blinked hard, nearly losing control. He wouldn't think of that. He couldn't. 

He knew it was his fault. He was the one who insisted that Andy come out. He was the one who had told him it would be better. That lying only hurt people. Even after Andy had told him that it was a bad idea. He'd just had to push.

Jonathan blinked again, trying to force the thoughts from his mind. You screwed up, pal, that horrible voice continued. You screwed up, you killed him you killed him you killed him you-

"Jonathan Tucker?" A voice called from a door off to the side of him.

He was at her side in a flash. "Yes?"

Slightly startled, she looked down at a chart. "Come with me."

He followed her back to a small room. She closed the door behind them, and told him to have a seat. He did. She leaned up against the desk in front of him, looking down at her notes.

"Okay. I've got some good news and some bad news."

Jonathan trembled again, thinking of both the first night on the lake with Andy and the night he learned of his father's condition. He blinked some more.

"He survived the surgeries just fine. The injuries appeared to be much more serious than they actually were, and the head injury was completely superficial. The abdominal injuries were a little more serious, but they got them under control. He had one punctured lung and one fractured rib, but they're all fixed now. He was also stabbed in the thigh with what appeared to be a dinner knife."

Jonathan's affect turned suddenly dark as he thought of what Andy's father had done to him. When they got out of here-

"Hey," she said softly, touching his forearm. He looked up into her eyes, which were a warm, dark brown. He felt instantly at ease. She caressed his forearm a little, and the tender touch had him on the brink again. 

"It's okay to be angry. Whoever did this isn't going to get away with it. I promise." He looked at the floor, unable to maintain his composure while looking in her eyes. 

"So what's the bad news?" 

"The bad news is that the dinner knife did the most damage by far. It completely obliterated a small section of his femoral artery. The doctors had to do some fancy footwork to fix it up."

"But they did, right?" he said eagerly, desperate to hear her say it. 

"Yes, but he's lost an awful lot of blood," she continued grimly. "They're having some difficulty keeping his blood pressure up. He's going to have to stay in the ICU for at least a few days until he stabilizes. He coded several times after the surgery, so they'll want to watch out for that over the next few hours especially. But, barring any unfortunate events, as soon as he stabilizes, he won't need much physical therapy or post-operative care. He'll be free to go, without much hassle."

Jonathan opened his mouth to speak, but found himself unable.

"Don't worry about it," she said, running her fingers through her red hair. "You can see him, if you want. He's pretty groggy right now, in and out of sleep, but he'll be glad to see you, I'm sure."

He got up, moving with alarming speed toward the door. 

"Whoa, whoa," she said, laughing a little. "One last thing. I told them you were his brother when you came in, so go with the story, okay? I don't want you to be kept away from him because of stupid rules."

He finally found his voice, shaky as it was. "Thank you, so much…" he swallowed, then continued. "C-Could you tell…" He gestured back toward the waiting room. 

"Sure," she said, smiling warmly. She pointed down the hall to the right "A113."

With one last look of gratitude, Jon left her, moving as quickly as he dared down the hall. He reached A113, and gently pulled open the door. He stepped inside, and pulled it quietly closed behind him.

**** 

It was even colder here than in the clearing.

He had stopped falling some time ago, and now he seemed to be on his back in a very soft, white place. There was some kind of beeping off to his right, but he didn't concern himself with that. 

The awful pain in his chest was gone, and so were his other pains. He was grateful for that, but he was still terribly confused. And cold. He had tried to open his eyes several times, but he felt weirdly sluggish, like he was drugged. He tried to remember how he might have ended up in a situation like this, but he was drawing a blank. It was all very strange. The he heard another voice. I recognize this one, he thought thickly. Who is it? I know this one!

"Baby…" it called again.

Jonathan! He's here!

"Baby, it's me," Jonathan whispered his hand on Andy's arm. "I'm here, Carmen…"

I hear you! I hear you! Please, don't go!

"I don't know if you can hear me," Jon continued, fighting to keep his voice even. "The nurse said you'd be a little groggy."

Nurse?

"I'm gonna sit with you for a while, okay baby? I need to be near you. I almost lost you just now, and I wanna sit by you, okay?" Jonathan rambled. He was unraveling, the stress of the past day and a half finally taking its toll. "How are you feeling? Does it hurt? They have you on lots of painkillers, so I hope it doesn't hurt…"

Jonathan went on and on, talking constantly but saying nothing. Andy listened, indescribably glad to hear Jonathan's voice again. But what does he mean he almost lost me? What is he talking about? And what's this about a nurse? And painkillers?

Andy thought as hard as he could, trying to find his way through the fog. What happened? 

Suddenly, flashes came back to him with alarming clarity. The hotel room. His father. The television. The chair leg. The iron. Oh, god, the iron. He nearly killed me, killed me, and all because I told him about-

"Jonathan," Andy whispered, nearly inaudibly.

Jonathan ceased his talking about the color of the walls and leaned in close to Andy.

"Yes, baby, it's me," he said, his eyes open as wide as they would go. "I'm right here, Andy…"

With tremendous effort, Andy turned his head toward the voice. He smiled when Jon's face came into focus. "Hi," he said simply.

"Hi," Jonathan said brightly as he gripped Andy's hand. Andy squeezed back, grateful for the touch. "How have you been?" He giggled euphorically and a little hysterically.

"I've been better," Andy croaked, attempting a smile. He never quite made it past a grimace, but it was the most beautiful sight Jon had ever seen. 

"I know you have." Jon looked away suddenly. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Andy whispered, confused again. 

"Sorry for what happened to you."

Andy started to respond, but he could feel himself slipping under again.

"I'm sleepy…" he breathed, his eyelids fluttering. "Goodnight…"

Jonathan stared at him, shaking, his hands gripping the plastic bed handles with tremendous force. He took a deep breath and sat down, pulling the chair up to the bed. He laid his head on the bead near Andy's hand, prepared to get some sleep. He laid and laid, but sleep never came.

**** 

The next few days were slow and unpredictable, especially for Jonathan. Nate had gone home after Andy was out of the woods, calling every few hours to check on him. Andy was in and out of consciousness, and they had to perform another surgery when some of his stitches ruptured the day after the first operation. The police had come by several times, but Andy was in no condition to answer their questions. Neither Jon nor Nate knew much, so they had said to have him call when he was able to answer questions. His blood pressure remained stable though, and after two weeks in the hospital, he was finally ready to be discharged. Jonathan was more relaxed than Andy had seen him since the attack.

He was really beginning to worry about Jonathan, though. The entire time they'd been at Mercy, Jon had barely eaten anything. He'd slept even less than he ate, taking hour long power naps in his straight backed chair. He looked like hell. Andy told him so.

"I'm fine," Jonathan replied, his voice scratchy and tired. 

"You are so not fine," Andy had replied, scowling. "You look like shit. The dark circles under your eyes will take years to fade, as deep as they are. You've lost like eight pounds. I like your squishy tummy." Jonathan giggled.

"I'm serious, though," Andy insisted, sobering. "You can't run on empty forever, Jon. Why won't you eat anything? Why won't you go catch some sleep in the waiting room? I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

"I'm here to take care of you," Jon said, his face stony. "I owe you at least that much."

"And that's enough of that, too," Andy said testily. "This wasn't your fault. How can you possibly think this was your fault?"

"I'm the one who insisted that you tell your dad the truth. I'm the one who guilted you into getting your ass kicked, even though you told me you didn't think it was a good idea. You came to me for advice, and you trusted me to give you some that was sound. I failed miserably at that, and you can't deny it."

"Jon," Andy said incredulously, "you were right. In most circumstances, it was absolutely the right thing to do. But how could you know that my father was a stark raving lunatic? How could you know this would happen?" Jon started to speak, but Andy interrupted him. "You couldn't. This was just a terrible event, and it's nobody's fault but my dad's."

Jonathan looked at the floor, silent. Andy reached out and took his hand. 

"I know you're upset," Andy said softly. "I am too. But blaming yourself won't do any good." He sighed. "I'm getting out of here today. Why don't we do something special?"

"Like what?" Jon asked softly, his voice shaky and exhausted.

"Well," Andy whispered, "I can think of something I've wanted to do really badly ever since I got off the heavy painkillers." He pulled Jon's hand to his face, taking the index finger into his mouth. Some of the tiredness left Jon's eyes as Andy began to suck gently, holding Jonathan's gaze. Jonathan shifted nervously, his eyes darting to the door of the room. Andy stopped after a moment, letting Jon's hand fall onto the bed and grinning sexily.

"Let's go home."

****

The nurse came in with the discharge papers just as Andy was tying up his shoes. He felt so much better than he had in days. He couldn't wait to get home. It had been two weeks since he'd taken a load off, and he was more than frustrated. There seemed to be a million forms to sign, but they finally finished them. 

Once they were outside the hospital and in the parking garage, Andy shoved Jonathan into a beam and kissed him passionately, his hands roaming Jonathan's body desperately. Jon kissed back just as hard, and his hands squeezed and kneaded the curves of Andy's ass. Andy moaned softly at the touch, his cock reacting to the intensely sexual caress with remarkable speed and enthusiasm. Jon broke the kiss when he felt Andy's full erection. Andy frowned. 

"What gives?"

"You're a little too excited for us to continue this here."

"Nobody's going to see us," Andy grumbled impatiently, his hands resuming their groping of Jonathan's body. Jon took his hands and held them out.

"Now, now," he said with a laugh, "Be good. Let's go home."

"Fuck that," Andy retorted and stole Jon's lips again. 

Jon, kissing back, gave Andy's butt a smack. Andy kissed him more desperately as he was reminded of the shower at the cabin. Jon swatted his ass again, and pushed him away.

"We're not doing this here," he said firmly, leading Andy toward the car. Andy groaned, following. 

"You're no fun."

"We'll see about that," Jon added.

On the drive to Jon's house, which was quite long, Andy didn't let up. He groped and pricked and teased Jon for the entire three hours, pausing only to massage his own erection through his pants. He was whining and complaining the whole way, and by the time they pulled into Jonathan's garage, Jon was aching, wet, and supremely pissed off with Andy's antics. He had nearly run them off the road several times because of Andy's teasing. When Andy started to unzip his pants, Jon grabbed his wrist and held it tight. Andy moaned and took deep breaths, begging Jon to help finish him.

"Enough!" Jon shouted, throwing open his car door. He walked around to Andy's side and opened his door. He yanked him out, closing the door as he went and shoved him back against it, kissing Andy fiercely. 

He broke the lip lock just before he lost himself, heading into the house and all but dragging Andy with him. He hurried up the stairs and into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

Andy stood before him, his lips swollen and his clothing disheveled. His cheeks were a remarkable shade of red and his breaths were coming and ragged gasps. He looked at Jon desperately, needing him worse than he would have thought possible before this. 




The Dirty Pleasures Incident Ch. 06



Hey guys. Sorry I took so, so long to get this chapter out. I got screwed out of my summer housing and had to sell all my shit in like eight hours and hop on a bus back to Ohio to stay with the fam. It was complete insanity. Well, here it is, I finally finished it, so I hope it was worth the wait. Look forward to hearing from you guys.

*****

Andy awoke with a jolt, sitting up suddenly and staring into the darkness, his breath coming in pained and ragged gasps. Sweat ran from his temples down his face and neck, the individual beads joining the pools that stood in the cradle of his collarbone and darkened the front of his T-shirt. 

His hands gripped the top of the comforter desperately, his knuckles white. His eyes darted back and forth in terror as he fought to see in the dark room, his heart pounding with the memory of his nightmare. Still not entirely convinced that it was over, he reached for Jon's hand, finding it under the covers and taking tight hold of it. Jon stirred, turned slightly, and went still again. 

The warm reassurance of Jon's hand steadied him, and his pulse slowed along with his breathing. He closed his eyes, forcibly driving the misty watercolor images of irons and bloody pools out of his mind and replacing them with memories of the weekend in the cabin. At last he felt safe enough to open his eyes and let go of Jon's hand. He lay back down heavily, letting out a long breath.

It was just a nightmare, he told himself firmly. A bad dream, like everyone has once in a while. It's no big deal. But it was a big deal, because it hadn't been a nightmare. It was like he had relived the night in the hotel room all over again, except it was worse, because he knew what was going to happen. And yet he couldn't stop himself from going forward. 

It started right after he had told his father that he was in love. He'd been so excited about sharing this with his father, and he'd felt that excitement again in his dream, even though he knew how it would end. Even as he screamed at himself inside his head (stop it stop talking don't tell) his dream lips went right on moving, telling his father about the wonderful time he'd had in the cabin, how he'd realized that he had found his other half (though he left out a few of the details), and how he wanted his father to meet him.

He's wonderful, Dad, he had gushed, mistaking his father's rage for simple surprise. I can't believe I was lucky enough to find him. You'll love him when you meet him, he's really-

What's his name? Richard had asked tonelessly, though in his excitement at having finally come clean with his father, he didn't notice it's dark quality.

Oh, I'm sorry I forgot, he had babbled, euphoric and giddy. It's Jonathan. He lives over by-

His father had stood suddenly then, staring down at him with a look that he had never seen before and thus could not readily identify. His eyes were focused and intense, and yet still somehow blank and listless, as though he were somewhere other than in the room with his son. He picked up the knife on his TV tray, the steak knife, and looked down at Andy, moving toward him.

It was then that Andy had first begun to realize that his father intended to hurt him. The idea was so incomprehensible that it had rendered him immobile in that moment, and he remained immobile in his dream, despite his knowledge of the events to come. 

His father raised the knife, his affect still disturbingly blank and his eyes sightless, and plunged it into his son's thigh. Andy, too shocked at first even to scream, slid onto the floor into a heap, scrambling backward toward the window.

His father dropped the knife, turning instead toward Andy and starting after him. He grabbed the scruff of Andy's neck and pulled him upward, slamming him sideways into the television, which was bolted to the chest of drawers against the wall. The screen shattered, noiselessly it seemed to Andy, for now he had begun to scream, and the sound reverberated inside his head like the clang of a bell. The arm that had come into contact with the screen was bloody and unrecognizable.

His father dropped him, completely silent throughout the ordeal, and reached for the iron on the wall above the chest of drawers. He raised it as high as his arm would allow, then swung down-

Andy put his head between his thighs in an effort to stop the room from spinning. Vomit threatened to leave his stomach, but with a few deep breaths and rocks back and forth, it resettled in his midsection. 

He felt suddenly chilled and afraid, the shadows around him taking on sinister shapes. He began to tremble slightly, and in that moment, he wanted nothing more than for Jonathan to hold him close. Stop being such a baby, he scolded himself, beginning to rock back and forth again. Don't wake him up. He's really tired. He's had to put up with you in the hospital and at dinner and he doesn't need the added stress, so just cut it out.

The thing was, that was only half of the reason he didn't want Jon to see him like this. Jon would want him to talk to someone. A professional. Well, that was a euphemism if he had ever heard one. 

Worse, he would want Andy to press charges against his father. He knew what his father did was wrong, but he didn't suppose he could blame him. It had to be quite a shock to find out that your only son was gay. That you wouldn't be having any grandchildren of your own. That people would talk, and all of it wouldn't be nice. Perhaps it had just been a jerk reaction, and once he had a chance to calm down, he would understand what was happening and come to accept it. Andy was sure that given time, his dad would come around and they could put this whole ugly mess behind them. Things would be just like they were. Jonathan would see.

Feeling comforted and optimistic, Andy lay back down carefully so he wouldn't disturb his love. He pulled the covers up to his chin, closing his eyes. He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, he was waking up.

*****

"I talked to Layla on the phone this morning while you were asleep," Jonathan said as Andy sat down at the table with him. "She works at city hall, you know that, and it turns out that all the serious clubs and organizations register with them, so that newcomers can find them should they want to join one."

"You think she'll be able to find APS? Do you really think they're registered?" Andy asked, grateful that Jonathan hadn't started in on him about his father.

"I honestly have no idea," Jonathan said with a sigh, picking up the butter, "but a long shot is better than no shot at all. I told her we'd come down there today and help her look during her lunch break. You in?" 

"Yeah, let's do it," Andy replied, glad of the distraction. "I really want to know who's doing this. It's just so weird."

"You and me both," Jon said with a wan smile. He leaned over and kissed Andy chastely on the lips, licking some jelly off of his face afterward. Andy giggled girlishly, and Jon laughed at his giggle. Andy kicked his shin under the table.

"Don't you start laughing at me about that, too," Andy said, scowling childishly. "I giggled when this girl smacked my ass in the store one time, and Nate didn't let up for like a week."

"I'll have to mention it the next time we're around."

"Dick."

"That's Mr. Johnson to you."

Andy giggle again, covering his mouth with his hand. He blushed furiously, then stood.

"I'm going to paint. I can't take this kind of emasculation any more. Come get me when we're ready to go?"

"You know it, girrrrrl," Jonathan said with a flick of his wrist. 

"Go straight to hell," Andy said with a smile, fighting another giggle. He disappeared up the stairs as Jonathan put the dishes in the dishwasher. 

He sighed as he filled the little caddy with soap, thinking about the long road ahead of him. This APS business might get a little messy, but he was pretty sure he could handle a few Palmdale bigots. It was Andy he was really worried about. 

He hadn't mentioned the attack at all since he'd gotten home, except to tell Jonathan that he didn't want to go back to his house. He seemed content to continue as if nothing at all had happened. Jon put his hand to his forehead, unsure of how to proceed.

He didn't want to push Andy into talking if he wasn't ready, but he could hardly stand by and let him pretend that it hadn't happened. He sighed again, pushing the start button and putting the problem out of his mind. It'll be alright for now, he thought to himself, going to the living room to watch TV. 

Settling on the sofa, he groaned as he heard the garage door open. Here comes hell, he thought.

His mother opened the wooden door that led from the house to the garage and stormed down the hall.

"JONATHAN!" she called, her heels clicking on the tiles as she looked in the bathroom for him. She rounded the corner at near warp speed, stomping into the living room. 

Seeing him looking sheepish on the couch, she started toward him. She took her purse off of her shoulder.

Not the purse, he thought, standing up and backing away, trying to put some space between them. Please, god, not the purse.

"Mom," he began slowly, hoping to defuse her. "I know you're mad, and you have every right to be, but-"

His sentence was cut off when the purse struck him in the midsection, knocking the wind out of him. He dropped to the floor, coughing.

"Do you," she said dangerously quietly, "HAVE ANY IDEA HOW WORRIED I'VE BEEN? No phone call! No note! No NOTHING. Just you-"

She hit him on the back with the purse.

"-gone-"

And again.

"-without a trace-"

"Mom!"

"-for FIVE DAYS-"

Again.

"Mom!" he said again, grabbing the purse. "Mom, stop! I'm fine!"

She stopped, staring at him, and it wasn't until then that he noticed how awful she looked. Her eyes were red-rimmed and haggard looking, her hair was noticeably dimmer than it usually was, and she had on two different colored stockings. Not extremely different, but not the same, either. He knew she was in bad shape. He face had this tired, desperate look that he hadn't seen since his father had died. He was going to have to get a really her a really good birthday present.

She grabbed her purse back from him and tossed it onto the floor. The contents spilled out, her lipstick rolling under the couch. She snatched him into a tight hug, and he could feel her chest hitch as she began to sob.

"Mom," he said quietly, squeezing her back. "I'm really sorry…"

"No, no, it's okay," she choked out, still holding him. "I overreacted, I know. It's just, I was so worried about you, and when Nate came and told me what happened, I was so relieved that you weren't dead…"

She let him out of the hug, holding him at arm's length. She pulled him in again and gave him a kiss on the forehead. She took a deep breath. 

"So," she started, with a slight chuckle, "how is he? I do hope he's alright. I know how close you two are."

"He's fine, Mom," Jon said with a smile, looking up the stairs. "He's here, as a matter of fact. I hope that's okay. He just…didn't want to go home."

"It's fine, dear," she said, bending down to pick up her purse and the assorted paraphernalia that had fallen out. "I can't wait to meet him."

"I'll go get him."

*****

Andy sat upstairs at Jon's desk, pulling out the watercolors that Jon kept for him. He had stretched earlier, when his leg had been stiff, but he was still oddly jumpy and tense. Painting would help him relieve stress. It always did.

As he stroked the page, his mind wandered, landing, as usual, back at the cabin.

My, that had been a good weekend.

A smile touched his lips as he thought of the shower. He wondered if that memory would ever leave him. He hoped not. 

It wandered on ahead to the night before he left, and the smile broadened. That had been one for the ages, too. He thought maybe having a night like that one meant Jon would be around forever. Then, when his father came around, they would all be family. A yell snapped him out of his reverie.

It was a woman, he was pretty sure, and it sounded like she was in the house. Downstairs, to be exact. 

Oh, God, he thought miserably, what now?

He stood and walked toward the door of the bedroom, pulling it open and heading out into the hall. Jon came bounding up the stairs, taking hold of his arm.

"What's happening?" he asked as Jon pulled him down the stairs. "Is something wrong, babe? Who screamed?"

"It was my mom," Jon explained, putting an arm around Andy's shoulders when they reached the bottom of the stairs. "She wants to meet you."

Andy looked confusedly across the living room, spotting the woman sitting in an armchair. She was dressed in an expensive-looking gray suit and stiletto heels. Her red hair was pulled back into an elegant bun. Her face was wrinkle free and her complexion was luminous; Andy thought she was one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen. 

"Oh!" she exclaimed, bounding out of the seat and rushing toward them. "He's just as cute as a button!" She grabbed his shoulders, pulling him into a crushing hug and planting wet kisses all over his face. She let him up for air after about fifteen seconds, and not a moment too soon. Andy was beginning to see dark spots. 

She held him at arm's length, looking him over. Andy giggled again, the slapped his hand over his mouth, blushing.

"Awww, isn't that just adorable!" she said enthusiastically. "Come, sit down. I've heard so much about you, and it's so good to finally meet you. Jon just goes on and on about how much he loves you, and it's good to have a face to put with your name."

Andy blushed again, and Jon took hold of his hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing it softly.

They sat on the couch for a few hours, talking and getting to know each other. Andy liked her a lot, he found. If his mother had been alive, he hoped she'd have been something like this woman. He thought of how lucky Jon was to have such a supportive parent in his life, and a bolt of pain struck his chest. Tears filled his eyes suddenly, threatening to spill over. He stood suddenly.

"I'm going to the bathroom," he said quickly, pushing roughly past Jon. 

"Okay, baby," Jon said softly as Andy disappeared from view. He hoped he felt okay. He hadn't missed the looked that had passed over his face. Apparently, neither had his mother.

"Is he okay?" she asked tentatively, looking in the direction he had gone. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, I don't think so," he assured his mom. "I think he's just upset..."

"Poor dear," she said, shaking her head. "He's so sweet. How could anyone bear to do that to him?"

"Hell if I know," Jon replied, feeling a fresh burst of hated for Andy's father. 

Andy came back then, tottering back to his seat beside Jon. Jon thought his eyes looked a little redder, but it could have been his imagination. His mom's cell rang, and she left to take the call.

Jon's phone beeped, and he opened it, reading a text message. 

"Layla says we can come now," he told Andy, grabbing his hand again. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"No reason," Jon lied. "Come on, let's get our shoes. I'd like to wrap this whole thing up as soon as we can."

*****

The drive to city hall was uncharacteristically tense, with Andy weirdly silent and contemplative, looking out the passenger window. Jon tried several times to break the ice, to no avail. He gave up after a few minutes, telling himself Andy was just not in the mood for chitchat today.

Right.

He pulled into the parking lot in front of the city library, unlocking the doors as he turned off the car. He leaned back in his seat, his eyes trained on Andy, who appeared not to have noticed that the car was no longer in motion.

"Are you okay?" he asked seriously, his hand on Andy's thigh.

"Sure," he replied, looking back at him.

"You know you can talk to me, right?" Jon added, his voice just a little watery.

"Sure," Andy repeated in that eerily robotic voice.

Sighing heavily and looking at the ceiling, Jon opened his door. He got out, surprised to find that Andy was already out of the car, on his way over to the building.

"C'mon, slow poke," Andy said with a chuckle, and the strange, robot-like quality was gone from his voice. Jon smiled with relief, jogging over to him.

They went in, and immediately saw Layla seated at the desk, looking impatient.

"Here you guys are," she said with more than a little exasperation. "Why did it take you forty-five minutes to get here from thirtieth street?"

"Sorry, I don't want to get a ticket," Jon said defensively. "How many do you have?"

Layla said nothing, looking annoyed. 

"So did you find out anything?" Andy said, a little nervous. 

"I certainly did," Layla said proudly. "You guys are gonna kiss my feet when I show you this stuff. Come on!" 

She opened a little door next to her desk, and they walked through it, following her to a small file room. She closed the door behind them, not wanting to be overheard.

"I found a few matches for clubs with titles that match the acronym. Since we can say with a high degree of certainty that neither the Association of Polish Scientists nor the Appalachian Pottery Society would want to vandalize a Greenpeace office, it's safe to assume that the American Pride Society is the one we're looking for."

"What are they about?"

"Well," she continued, "their mission statement says they seek to uphold the - get this - 'ancient, traditional values that all true Americans hold, and to take steps to eradicate the ungodly and heathen blemishes on the face of This Great Nation.' Ancient. That's good."

"Pay dirt," Jon said, the beginnings of a smile on his face.

"But wait," Andy said, looking uneasy. "Just because their a little, well, conservative, doesn't mean they're vandals. It also doesn't mean that they had anything to do with the deaths of those speakers, or that they even knew about them."

"That's what I said, too," Layla said, "but I did a little more digging before I called you guys over here. It turns out that this society has had branches in Riverside, Temecula, and Merced, but they've all been disbanded because of 'suspicious' fiscal practices and 'questionable' involvement of members in several unsolved cases, ranging from vandalism to assault with a deadly weapon. It's more than enough to raise a few eyebrows."

"It's not exactly smoking gun," Jon said thoughtfully, "but it's not nothing either. Is there a headquarters for this place somewhere? You know, where the leaders of all of the branches of the clubs meet, or something?"

"Almost certainly," Layla said with a sigh. "Unfortunately, I have no idea where that might be. There's no information about it anywhere."

"So where do we go from here? How are we ever going to prove that it was them, even if it was?"

"Didn't you say you pulled this from a database that new residents use to find clubs?" Andy asked, a thoughtful look on his face.

"Yeah, so?"

"Well, if they're inviting new members," Andy said, smiling broadly, "then that means people interested in joining have to be provided with some kind of contact in the club, right?"

"Right…" Layla said, smiling now too.

"So…" Jon added, joining the smile party, "all we have to do is pretend to be new members, and we'll get the inside track."

"Oh, Jonathan," Layla said throatily, fluttering her eyelashes, "it's so James Bond. Do you think you can pull it off?"

He looked pointedly at Andy. "I'll have you know, miss Layla," he said, his grin turning mischievous, "that this is nothing. I found Carmen SanDiego."




The Dirty Pleasures Incident Ch. 07



Hey guys! Here's the seventh chapter. This is going to be the last sexual one for a while, for the shit hath hit the fan. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Don't forget to vote. And comment!

***** 

Andy tumbled backward off of Jonathan's lap and flopped onto the mattress, panting and exhausted. They had just finished their third round, and Andy felt like he couldn't draw enough breath to draw the next breath. He rolled to his right, trying to disentangle his legs from Jonathan's arms. They lay there in the darkness for an interminable amount of time. At last, Jonathan spoke.

"You know, I think we should fight more often."

Andy chuckled, smiling at the ceiling. "It certainly is fun to make up, isn't it?"

Jon half sat up, resting on one elbow and looking in the direction that Andy's voice had come from. "I can't believe you came up with that story about that guy handcuffing you to the kitchen drawer. It drove me absolutely insane to think of you like that. Where did that come from?"

"Well, you started in on me about the 'mystery man,'" Andy said sarcastically. "The rest, well, I was thinking about it the last time we were in the kitchen."

"When we were eating breakfast yesterday?"

"Yep."

"Well, if toast gives you thoughts like that, I don't want to be around when you discover porn."

Andy giggled again, but it wasn't his silly giggle. It was low and sensual, in the same timbre as a growl. He sighed, groaning as he moved to get under the covers to go to sleep. He slid in beside Jon, pulling the covers up over them both. He slid up behind Jon, spooning his back. He slid his hands around Jon's midsection and squeezed. Jon purred, nestling backward into him.

"Andy?" Jon asked tentatively, afraid of setting Andy off again.

"Hmmm?"

"Who are you talking to that you hang up on when you see me?"

Jon listened to the silence, waiting for an answer.

"Him."

"Him who?"

More silence. 

"My dad."

Jon was silent for a long moment, unable to speak in his shocked state. He fought to remain calm, not wanting to make the situation any worse than it was.

"Your dad?"

"Mmm hmm."

"Why would you be talking to him?" he asked neutrally, trying to keep the hard edge out of his voice.

"Because I need to." Andy said quietly. He was surprised at how calm Jon was, given his past reactions to the mention of his father.

"Why?" Jon pushed.

"He's my dad. I'm not going to lose him over something so trivial."

"Trivial?" Jon asked, failing to keep the heat out of his tone. "You think what he did was trivial?"

Andy sighed, nuzzling the back of Jon's neck. "It was just a misunderstanding. He's been telling me how he felt at the time, and he just overreacted out of shock. He's much better now. He says he wants to see me."

Jon's blood turned to ice.

"Andy," he said softly, turning around to face him, "he tried to kill you."

"No," Andy insisted. "He was just surprised, that's all."

"He wasn't just surprised, Andy. He meant for you to die that day. He almost beat you to death with an iron, for Christ's sake. He kept it up even after you were unconscious-"

"I know it seems that way," Andy replied. His voice carried a childlike earnestness that broke Jon's heart. He was like a child trying to reason out a way for Santa Claus to be real. "But it was just a fluke. You'll see. It'll work out."

Jon was quiet for a while, looking deep into Andy's eyes. What he saw there told him all he needed to know.

"Okay, baby," he said, running his fingers through Andy's short brown hair. "Just promise me something."

"Yeah?" Andy asked.

"Don't go to meet him unless I'm with you. Just promise me, babe."

Andy looked away, apparently thinking it over. Then he looked back, his eyes warm and happy. Jon's heart gave another painful little tug at the sight. "Okay. I promise."

"I love you," Jon said shakily, his chest tightening.

"I love you, too," Andy said, cuddling up to Jon, his face in the bend between his head and neck. "'Night."

"'Night, baby."

Jon looked over Andy's head into the darkness behind him, sighing and blinking back tears. It was clear that he wasn't going to convince Andy of what a monster his father was no matter how sensible his argument was. Andy simply could not believe that someone he trusted so much could do something so terrible to him, so he had decided to rationalize it all away. He was going to have to see for himself how his father really felt about him, and Jon dreaded the day Andy was forced to realize that his father hated him.

*****

They all sat in a circle of folding chairs at the meeting hall, the president of the club, who they had discovered was named Drew Marshall, sat in the middle. They were back at the following week, waiting for it to begin.

Since the last meeting they'd worked vigorously to find out more about the club they had just joined, but they'd come up remarkably, thought not surprisingly, empty handed. After hours of searching the day after the first meeting, Anna had decided it would be more prudent to focus on perfecting their aliases and learning to answer to their new names while they focused on learning more about the club by being on the inside.

"It'll be a lot easier to just find out stuff as we go along than to break our backs digging up info from the outside," she had explained. "We'll get to know the other members, get close to them, and find out everything we need to know that way. Maintaining our aliases is the most important thing right now. If they think we're real, we'll have no problems getting whatever information we need out of them."

Nate had stared at her in awe then, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Who the hell are you? Were you Nazi Secret Police in another life?"

"Perhaps," she had replied, grinning widely. "My grandparents were from Germany."

They'd spent that day coming up with personal details to add to their bare bones aliases so that they would have more to talk about with the others, and the rest of the week addressing each other by their false names. Jon had perfected his southern twang and his tales of Klan violence to a degree that had shocked them all.

"I think you're in the wrong profession," Layla had informed him one day after they'd been practicing. "You belong in Hollywood."

Meanwhile, Jon was much more relaxed than he had been the previous week. It was probably because he was finally sure of what was happening with Andy, and didn't have to worry about the 'mystery man' anymore. Of course, the fact that they had sex at least twice a day and never twice in the same place might have had something to do with it.

"I don't know, I'm just really horny all of a sudden," Andy had explained when Jon had inquired after his insatiable new persona. "I think I had forgotten for a while that I had a hot guy upstairs that I could get to fuck me at any moment. The whole car thing just reminded me."

Also, Greenpeace was doing much better. The murders had brought a lot of attention to their cause, or at least to their building, and that had translated into dollars. They had had a new window installed to replace the obliterated one, and they had gotten new lighting for the lobby. 

But the police still had no leads as to who was committing the crimes, and the community was beginning to lose interest. News updates got fewer and farther between until three full days without a word about it had passed. Homeland Security had taken off back to Washington, and only a few FBI leftovers and the local sheriff were left to continue the investigation. The tips had dried up, and since none of them had panned out, the cops were left with five burned bodies and the five piles of rubble they'd been pulled from.

So here they sat in a duck-duck-goose circle, waiting for Marshall to begin speaking. After about ten minutes of silence, he began.

"As warriors for the true America of old, it is our responsibility to uphold the original truths of the Lord and the laws of our forefathers, who were anointed by God and chosen to come to this land of heathens and sinners to deliver them from evil and bring them the word of God. Recently, the good men and women who came to bring the word of the Messiah to the damned people of the Americas have been reduced to murdering, philandering thieves. These infidels would have all of us think that they were here to collect money and to steal property, instead of simply seeking out and claiming what was rightfully theirs. 

"My brothers and sisters," he said with a disdainful chuckle, turning to make eye contact with the half of the circle he hadn't been facing, "the time to rise up is now. We cannot sit idle while all that our ancestors worked for is contaminated and reduced to a puddle of dried muck. We cannot allow our precious blood to be infected by that of lesser beings, nor our hearts and minds clouded with compassion for those who do not deserve it. Ladies and gentlemen, we have to bring the light of truth to those who cannot see it for themselves. And that's why I've arranged for us all to take a trip to fellowship with some of our Brothers and Sisters in Christ from San Clemente. They've reserved us a bus, a good one, with air conditioning and everything." 

This garnered murmurs of approval from everyone, as though this were a rare treat. Andy and Layla exchanged amused looks.

"So that's where we'll be next week. It's an overnight, two days, so be sure to bring a change of clothes and anything else you can't live without for a couple of days. Now, this annual celebration is by invitation only, and there is a dress code. It's jeans, for one, dark wash, and personally designed T-Shirts. We like to have all of our members involved in the movement and the process, so the T-Shirt is very important. Which brings us to what we'll be doing today."

He stood, leaving the circle and heading up to what had been the front of the room at the last meeting and pulled a big box into the center of the circle. He pulled out a large stack of blindingly white T-Shirts and a variety of fabric paints, stencils, paintbrushes and other stuff one might use to decorate T-Shirts. Behind Marshall's back, stoicism and amusement were warring on Jon's face. Nate looked thoughtful, then a mischievous spark lit up his eyes. Andy groaned inwardly. He knew what that impish look meant.

"Now keep in mind that there will be a contest. Whoever is voted to have the best one in the conference wins a prize. It's just for a little levity to break the monotony. The rest of the time, we'll all be very busy with very serious work."

Andy's mind conjured several unpleasant pictures of what their 'serious work' might involve as he and the others lined up to get a T-Shirt and some paints. Everyone, with the exceptions of Layla, Andy, Nate, Anna, and Jon, had stood and gotten in line silently, their expressionless faces totally void of emotion. Andy wondered how long these people had been coming to these meetings. Their personalities had been lost at some point, apparently, because he couldn't imagine these empty shells having existed in the world outside these walls in their current condition.

He picked out a shirt, not bothering to check the size, and went over to sit down beside Anna at one of the tables that had been set up on the other side of the meeting room. The others soon joined them, and they began to decorate their shirts. Looking to make sure everyone else was out of earshot, Nate spoke.

"I cannot believe this shit," he whispered, placing a confederate flag stencil on the front of his shirt. "Are we really decorating T-Shirts right now? What is this, fourth grade summer camp? What's next, macaroni art? Lanyards?"

"Just go with it," Layla said, "and be grateful we're not burning crosses in people's yards. What are we going to do about next week?"

"We're going to go, of course," Anna said, checking again to make sure they weren't overheard. "We have no choice."

"We most certainly do have a choice!" Andy whispered loudly. 

"Really, Andy?" Anna asked, her eyes narrowed in exasperation. "What other way do we have to get the inside track about all of the branches of APS, huh? We'll never get another opportunity this golden. We're going, and that's final."

"Yes, mother," Andy muttered, his eyes averted. Jon chuckled, grabbing his own stencil.

Layla cleared her throat suggestively. "Stage five creeper, one o'clock."

Jon snorted, the sobered, sliding his stoic mask into place as the man approached. He pulled up a chair and sat down beside Nate, who only just managed not to make a face.

He was a tall, brooding man of about forty, and the chair groaned under his massive weight. Andy thought he had to be at least two hundred and fifty pounds. He had strawberry blonde hair and cold gray eyes, and he was in no way bad looking. He was a goonish, European handsome, with just a dash of crazy thrown in around the eyes. He reminded Andy of Zero from Tin Man.

He scanned their faces, his eyes stopping to examine each of them for a moment. They lingered for longer than was technically polite on Jonathan, and the man's head cocked to the right slightly. Jon felt the man's stare even though his eyes were trained on his shirt, and the gaze made the roots of his hair prickle.

"What's your name?" the man asked, still holding Jonathan in his death stare.

Jon looked up, staring back into his eyes, his gaze strong and unwavering. Inside, he was shaking, frightened by what he saw in the man's eyes, but he made certain that it didn't show on the outside. This seemed very important.

"Reagan," Jonathan said confidently, a small smile gracing his lips. "Reagan Thomas."

The man continued to stare, his expression unreadable and his eyes dead. He appeared to relax slightly after a moment, a cynical smirk appearing on his face. Andy let out a silent sigh of relief. He had been afraid that the man would know that Jon was lying.

"I'm Lyle," he said, extending a hand toward Jonathan as though he were the only one at the table. "Lyle Pannebaker. My family's Klan as well. It's good to know that our cause won't die with the Baby Boom generation."

"Oh, no," Jon said, his eyes still trained on Lyle, "we won't be going anywhere until we've achieved our goals." His southern, country accent was flawless, and Andy once again found himself floored by Jon's aptitude. 

"It's good to hear."

"Aren't you going to decorate a T-Shirt, Lyle?" Jon asked.

"No, no, I'm a committee chair, I have other work to do before the conference next week. I'm far too busy."

"What sort of other work?" Anna asked, batting her eyes seductively.

"You'll just have to wait until next week to find out, won't you?" Lyle said, his eyes finally leaving Jonathan to glance at Anna's chest.

"I guess so," Anna replied in a sultry voice.

"Well, I ought to get back to my work," Lyle said, standing and once again looking at Jonathan. "You all have fun now."

He turned, strutting off toward Marshall, who was seated near a window. Once he was seated and in deep conversation with their leader, Nate spoke.

"Well, he certainly seems to have a fondness for you, doesn't he?" he asked Jonathan. "Didn't give anyone else so much as a look."

"I don't know," Jon said thoughtfully, pretending to be focused on gluing an American flag to his T-Shirt. "I'm not sure we should trust him."

"Well, that's the understatement of the year," Layla said, rolling her eyes. "He looks like a serial killer. A hot one, but a serial killer nonetheless."

"I think we should spend a little time getting to know this guy," Anna said, her brows furrowed in thought. "He could prove to be a valuable source. He said he's a committee member, so he's pretty deep into this thing. I'll bet he knows all about these murders."

"That's kind of a leap, don't you think?" Andy asked, still recovering from the incident. He didn't like the way Lyle had been looking at Jonathan. It creeped him out. 

"Not necessarily," Nate said, laying down his shirt and resting his chin in his hand. "I think we can be sure now that these people know something. We'll just be confirming it in San Clemente next week. But how are we going to get him to talk? He already seems a little suspicious of us."

"Of Jonathan," Anna corrected, flipping her hair. "He appears to like me just fine."

"Oh, no," Nate said. "I know what you're thinking. No way."

"Yes way. We're going to get to the bottom of this. I mean it. And if that means I have to do a little flirting and wear some short skirts, so be it."

"And what if you have to do more than that? There's no way I'm letting you put yourself in that kind of danger."

"You're not letting me? Last time I checked, I didn't belong to you."

"Well, I-"

"Guys, inside voices!" Layla warned in a loud whisper. "Don't forget where we are!"

Andy looked back and forth between Anna and Nate as they sat fuming and staring each other down. He laughed a little, disguising it as a cough. He caught Jonathan's eye, and Jon shrugged, a small smile on his face. 

*****

"Can you believe that guy?" Jon asked thorough a mouth full of ice cream as they sat watching television in his room later that night. "Did you see the look he was giving me? I thought he was going to kill me!"

"That's not funny," Andy said, scooting closer to him. 

"I know," Jon replied, setting the ice cream on his nightstand, "I didn't mean for it to be. But what was his deal? Why was he so fixated on me?"

"It's because you're dead sexy," Andy joked, kissing him lightly on the cheek. 

Jon scoffed. "He hardly seemed the type to notice such a thing, Andy."

"Yeah, I guess that's true enough. But you're getting way too good at you're alias voice. Am I going to lose you to the Great White Way?"

Jon laughed, wrapping an arm around Andy and pulling him close. "I won't be going anywhere, don't you worry. When all this is over, the voice will go back into the vault, waiting for the next covert operation we have to perform. I promise."

Andy gave a slightly sad smile, blushing lightly.

"What is it, baby? You look a little disappointed."

Andy blushed harder, averting his eyes. Jon knew that blush.

"Do you like that voice, Andy?" he asked, taking hold of Andy's chin and forcing him to meet his gaze. Andy's lustful expression told him all he needed to know.

"Do you like it when I talk like this?" he began in his southern drawl. "Does it turn you on?" His tongue slipped out of his mouth and began tracing patterns on Andy's earlobe. Andy moaned, trembling against Jon in excitement.

"Whatchu want me to do, sugar?" he continued, whispering into his ear.

"Mm-mmmm…m-mm," Andy hummed in a shaky voice. 

"What was that?" Jon teased, his tongue traveling down Andy's neck.

"I-I…um…" Andy tried to speak, but lost his voice when Jon's tongue reached one of his nipples. Jon bit down gently and Andy gasped, his hips jumping.

Jon continued his ministrations all the way down Andy's chest, stopping at his navel to dip his tongue inside. Andy writhed under him, little moans escaping his throat as he tried to hold himself in check.

When Jon began licking and biting the crease between his crotch and his thigh, Andy yelled, spreading his legs wider. He undulated his hips, trying to get Jon to touch his cock. Jon removed his lips from Andy's crotch, staring up at him heatedly.

"What's the matter, honeybee?" he asked him innocently, his face hovering just above Andy's cock. "Do you need somethin'?"

Andy tried to respond, but could only make desperate, out of control whimpers. Jon breathed heavily onto his cock, making him twitch and swell in response. 

"How'm I gonna know what to do if you won't tell me, baby?" Jon taunted, running his tongue over his lips. Andy bucked again, his cock striking Jon's nose. Jon giggled, then gave Andy one long lick from the base of his cock to the tip. He made sure to linger around the slit, making Andy cry out and shudder. He giggled again.




The Dirty Pleasures Incident Ch. 08



The next chapter in our riveting tale is here, and I hope you enjoy. I'm going to try and get all these done before the end of September, so that I can finish my entry into the Halloween contest before fall semester goes into full tilt boogie. Vote and comment!

*****

As it turned out, the bus wasn't exclusively theirs for the ride south.

They stood in a line about fifty long at the Avenue S Park-N-Ride, comprised of the members of the local A.P.S. branch and about twenty migrant workers. Andy fought hard to keep an amused smile off of his face as the line moved forward slowly, each passenger presenting their ticket to the driver and boarding the bus labeled, ironically in his opinion, Crucero.

The members waited silently, some exchanging looks of disgust at their company for the trip. One woman, who they'd learned was called Ethel and wore mostly crochet ponchos, was repeatedly spraying the man in front of her with Lysol brand cleaner. The back of his leather jacket glistened in the glaring sunlight, the liquid running down in narrow rivers and dripping off of the weathered hem. Andy turned away, unable to keep from giggling. He walked away from the group, pretending to bend down and tie his shoes. These people are fucking crazy, he thought.

Jonathan looked up at the sky, his hands shoved into his pockets. It was a clear and cloudless day, like most days in this region, but Jon never got tired of looking at it. It was a crisp and fresh blue, the same kind of clear sky that was present in New England the morning after a snowstorm, after the clouds had cleared. A snort brought his attention back to the ground in front of him, and he looked over at Andy, who was giggling madly at his shoelaces. An adoring smile defeated his attempts to suppress it and surfaced on his face. As difficult as things had become lately, he was still amazed and overwhelmed by his feelings for Andy. Nobody had ever gotten under his skin the way he had, and even with the fights they'd been having he never doubted his love for a moment. But something was going to have to change. He was beginning to fear for Andy safety, and Andy did nothing to allay his fears.

He was still being secretive about the phone calls. Even though he promised not to meet his father in person without him, sometimes he wondered whether Andy was telling the truth about who was calling. Andy was having some very heated conversations with whoever was on the phone, and if that person was indeed his father, Jonathan had good reason to be afraid. The person on the line sounded as though they were fighting to see him, and they were getting more insistent all the time. Whenever Jon tried to ask him about it, he became bitchy and irritable, telling Jon to leave him alone, that he had no idea what was really going on. That was true enough, because Jon really didn't have a clue what was happening.

And that's the worst part, he thought, smiling again as Andy stood and nearly fell down, there's absolutely nothing I can do. He felt totally helpless, and helplessness wasn't an emotion he was accustomed to dealing with. He liked to keep his life in decent order, and the off-kilter, unsure feelings surrounding the phone calls made him desperately anxious. He sighed, looking around for Nate, who had yet to arrive. Jon hoped he was on time. They didn't need any fuck ups this late in the game.

After the last letter, things just didn't seem as fun as they had before. Before the note, it was a little scary, but not really. They had just been playing detective in a murder mystery game, a whodunit where the answer was Colonel mustard, in the library, with a candlestick. An episode of Scooby Doo, where the meddling kids found the man dressed in the ghost costume and they drove away much as they had come, looking for the next stone to turn. 

Like a game of Carmen San Diego. 

Deep down, they had never really accepted that someone in their company had murdered four people, burned them to death in their homes. Deep down, they hadn't wanted to face what was really happening. But after the bomb threat, there was no going back. 

Jon had recognized it for what it was immediately, though everyone apart from Anna had tried to trivialize it. There had been no real conviction behind their protests, though, and by the end of the night, they had sat silently in Jon's living room, debating whether or not they should go on this very trip. They'd called the police, of course. They were doing everything they could, but that wasn't much. There would be no physical evidence, Jon was sure of it. They would be left at the dead end where they started. 

So there they stood, moving slowly toward the air lock door in front of them. As Andy moved back toward the queue, Jon caught sight of Nate running toward the back of the line. His shirt was decorated with a confederate flag and the words THESE COLORS DON'T RUN in thick black letters underneath. He had on jeans, as did the rest of them, and a pair of giant black Timberlands. He had even thrown in a cowboy hat. Jon shook his head, turning around as he approached the man checking the tickets. 

He sighed, taking his ticket back from the driver and heading inside to find a seat that didn't have gum or any other questionable substance on it. He found one near the middle, and stuffed his carry-on in the compartment. He sat down on the aisle seat, hoping to catch Andy as he walked by. He wanted to use the trip down to talk to him. 

Andy stepped up into the aisle, heading down toward the him. He waved, giving Andy a small smile. Andy didn't return it, instead choosing a seat close to the front. Nate grabbed the seat next to him, shooting Jon an apologetic look. 

Jon scooted over toward the window, blinking rapidly. Don't be stupid, he told himself, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning his head against the window. Fuck him if he doesn't want to sit by you. He can sit by whoever he wants, it's no big deal.

Biting his bottom lip, he watched sadly as Palmdale's face slipped away and was replaced by the hard stone of the mountains.

*****

"What the fuck is the matter with you?" Nate asked incredulously, staring wide eyed at Andy. 

"I don't know what you mean," Andy said, opening a magazine he'd pulled out of his bag. He turned the page nonchalantly, squinting as though in concentration. Nate wasn't fooled.

"You do too know what I mean," he bit back, crossing his arms. "Why are you sitting here with me and not with Night Cop back there?"

"I don't feel like it," Andy shrugged. He looked away, trying to hide the tension in his eyes. 

"My ass," Nate said, snatching the magazine out of his hands. Andy gasped, then frowned. "What the hell is up with you two? This whole week you've been sniping and bitching at each other like a couple of cheerleaders at Prom."

"Jon doesn't understand me," Andy said dismissively, taking the magazine back and reopening it. "We just don't click anymore. We're different people now than we were when we met."

"Oh, I see," Nate said sarcastically, "I've stepped into an issue of Cosmo. What the hell does that even mean? 'He doesn't understand me.' Bullshit. You're a loner artist who likes to fuck guys. What's to understand?"

"Fuck you."

"Seriously," Nate continued, "he loves you, and you love him. What's so terrible that's come between you?"

"Nothing."

"Andy, please remember who you're talking to. It's me, Nate, remember? You're best friend since first fucking grade? The person you used to tell everything to before you met lover boy? What are you hiding from me, dude? I never get to see you or hang out with you anymore, and now you're completely ignoring the person you've ditched me for. Talk."

Andy stared in wide eyed shock at Nate's unexpected outburst, surprised at the bitterness in his friend's tone. He hadn't known Nate was so upset about how much time he was spending with Jon. 

"Nate, I..."

"What? Don't want to talk about it? Fine, Andy. Whatever. Just forget I asked." He turned away, facing the front of the bus.

"I'm sorry," Andy began, his hand resting on Nate's forearm. He glanced around to make sure there were no other members nearby, and was relieved to see that most of the club was huddled in the back near the bathrooms, leaving a huge gap between them and the migrant workers. "I didn't know it was upsetting you so much. I promise, I'll try and make more time for you..."

"That's not what this is about, Andy," Nate muttered, his eyes still trained on the headrest of the seat in front of him. "I knew it would be like this someday. Eventually, I'll meet someone too and we'll have a limited amount of time to spend together. I was prepared for it; it's a part of growing up. Our time apart isn't really what's bugging me."

Andy didn't miss the sadness in his voice as he continued.

"What gets me is that you're not talking to him, and you're still not talking to me. I could understand if it was something private between the two of you that you were trying to work out, but you're completely cut off from everyone. At least if you were talking to Jon, I'd know that you weren't completely alone. What's going on that you have to hide from everybody you know? Is it really that bad? You can tell me, Andy. I promise that as long as you're not planning to kill the president, I'll keep your confidence. Trust me."

Andy stared at him for a long moment, taking and releasing a slow breath. He looked up, smiling wanly. He really did need someone to talk to. He hadn't acknowledged just how lonely he'd been since he and Jon had started fighting. It was a terrible thing, not feeling able to confide in the one he loved.

"What's your hotel room number?"

Nate pulled a small card out of his pocket, looking at it closely. "827."

"I'll come see you tonight," Andy said with a sigh. "We have a lot of catching up to do." 

*****

The Grande Ballroom at the Orange County Hyatt Regency was much, much more crowded that Jon had expected. Given the rather homely nature of the building in Mojave, he had half expected to be meeting in someone's basement, or maybe at the local Denny's, but not this.

A solid hundred round tables sat evenly spaced around the ballroom's marble floor, each draped with a rich velvet tablecloth. The covers themselves were red, with white and blue fringe around the bottoms. The walls were decorated with a wild yet tasteful assortment of Civil War regalia, and the sentiment was echoed in the poinsettia centerpieces and porcelain dishes. Even the fifty chandeliers had been outfitted with red, white, and blue crystals, which, as if by magic, did not color the light that shone through them. 

A man in an expensive looking suit showed each group of five, as luck would have it, to their pre-selected seats. Nate let out an appreciative whistle as he placed his napkin on his lap.

"Well, I guess not all racists are trailer trash. We seem to have a Martha Stewart in our midst." 

Anna, who was wearing some very, very tight jeans and had sliced holes in her shirt to reveal her midsection, sat down across from him, beside Andy. "Has anyone seen what's-his-name?"

"Why?" Nate asked heatedly. "So you can go flash your D's at him?"

"First of all, I'm a double D, and yes," she retorted looking around for him. Nate scowled looking down into his lap. Jon fought a chuckle and Layla rolled her eyes. Can't wait to see where that goes, he thought.

"Shhhh," Andy said suddenly, and Jon looked up at him. He averted his eyes, choosing instead to stare intently at the stars on the plates. Jon looked up and saw what he was shushing about. Pannebaker, the one Andy called Zero for reasons not yet disclosed to him, was ambling over, his eyes locked on Anna. Nate's eyes darkened murderously.

He was wearing a navy blue tuxedo and a very expensive looking sky blue dress shirt. He had a nametag pinned to the lapel, labeling him as the Executive Vice President of Member Affairs. His eyes, which had previously been glued to the fissure in Anna's shirt, now traveled upward and to the left and locked with Jon's. Zero smirked, his eyes mischievous and dark in a way that made Jon very uncomfortable. 

"Well, it's good to see our youngest members have made the trip down. You especially, Reagan. I was very interested to see whether you would be joining us." He looked pointedly at Jon, his smirk widening.

"And why is that?" Jon challenged, meeting his gaze.

Before he could answer, a voice boomed over the room's loudspeaker and informed everyone that now was the time to take their seats if they hadn't done so already. Pannebaker smirked some more, then winked at Jon as he walked away toward his table at the front of the room. Jon stared thoughtfully after him, his brow furrowed worriedly. 

"What is with him?" Anna asked, her expression exasperated and confused. "Do you know him, or something?"

"No, not before we met him at the last meeting," Jon replied, still staring after the man, who was now schmoozing at his table with a redheaded woman and a blonde man. 

"Maybe he just feels a kinship with me because of the Klan thing."

"Yeah, probably," Nate added, looking at his menu. "Hey Andy, do you want to get the mozzarella sticks and I'll get the chicken strips and we can split them?"

"Sure," Andy agreed absent mindedly, staring intently in a random direction. 

"You with us, baby?" Jon asked quietly, unsure if he would answer or not.

Andy winced at the endearment, his reverie breaking for a moment as he stared sadly and longingly at Jon. It passed, and with some effort, he slid his stoic mask back into place. 

"Yeah, I was just thinking, it's not important." He broke eye contact with Jon, looking down at his menu.

"Oh," Jon replied, feeling dejected. Nate looked back and forth between the two of them, shaking his head. What the hell's happened that's blown them apart like this? he wondered.

They ordered, and by the time the waitress had returned with their plates, a woman had taken the stage, standing behind a wooden podium. She called for everyone's attention, and conversation at the tables ceased as she began to speak.

"Welcome to the Twelfth Annual California Caucus of the American Pride Society!" There was a deafening roar as the entire ballroom cheered exuberantly, and the woman waited for a moment before continuing. "I'm Tiffany Adams, your League President and hostess for the evening. As you know, tomorrow we'll be participating in the rally supporting Proposition 8, and later this week we have an anti-abortion demonstration to attend. But for tonight, we'll just relax and have a good time! I'd like to present, ladies and gentlemen, our favorite band, Little Big Horn!"

The crowd cheered again, the roar deafening this time. Layla rolled her eyes, picking up one of her French fries as a country song came on and a man began to sing.

"Well, isn't this quaint?" Nate asked with a click of his teeth. He picked up one of his chicken strips and began to eat it. They ate in silence for a few moments, until the singers started a ballad about the Mason-Dixon Line.

"I can't take any more of this," Nate said, throwing down his chicken and standing up. "I'm going back to my room. I'll see you guys tonight; text me when we're getting together."

"I'll come too," Layla added, standing too. "Maybe they'll have The Proposal on Pay-Per-View. There's no need for us to pay twice."

When they had walked away, Anna stood too. "I'll catch you guys later," she said vaguely, picking up her bag. 

"Where are you going?" Andy asked, not ready to be alone with Jon.

"I have some recon to do," she said, and before either of them could reply, she was off toward the stage. She disappeared into the crowd.

Andy looked around nervously, searching for an excuse to leave. He really wasn't ready to talk to Jon right now. He needed some time to collect himself, prepare what he was going to say. He was just about to mention a forgotten phone call that he had to return when Jon spoke.

"That desperate to get away from me, huh?"

His voice was even, but his expression revealed how sad he was. Andy's mouth moved wordlessly as he tried to think of a reply. 

"Don't bother," Jon said, standing quickly. He pushed his chair back forcefully, drawing a disapproving look from the man behind him. "I'll make it easy for you."

He stormed off in the direction of the elevators, knocking aside a waiter as he went. Andy took off after him, jogging around the ballroom to avoid hitting anyone. He finally caught up Jon, who was jamming the elevator button so hard it was likely to break.

"Look..."

"Just forget it, Andy," Jon spat coldly, stepping quickly into the elevator. 

"Forget what?" Andy asked, strode in after him before he could close the door.

"EVERYTHING!" he screamed suddenly, rounding on Andy. "Just forget we ever were! Might as well, right? You've already decided I can't be trusted to help you, so lets just stop pretending you care anything about this relationship anymore."

Andy froze, a shard of ice in his spine. "What are you saying?"

"What does it sound like?" Jon asked incredulously. "You don't want to talk to me, you don't want to listen to anything I have to say, you keep talking to your fucking father on the phone-"

"So what? Maybe I don't want to lose-"

"Oh, god," Jon said with a dark cackle, unable to believe what he was hearing. "You are so fucking pathetic, do you know that?"

"Why?" Andy asked heatedly, stepping off the elevator when they reached the eighth floor. "Because I want to try and preserve-"

"Preserve?!" Jon laughed cruelly again, rounding again on Andy in the plush hallway. "Preserve what? He tried to fucking kill you, Andrew, and you stand around talking about him like all he did was forget your birthday."

"He was just upset and he overreacted," Andy said rationally, and the look in his eyes was the same desperate one that Jon had seen the last time they had discussed this. This time, however, all it served to do was make him angrier. Why the hell couldn't Andy see what was going on? 

"I'll say," Jon said coldly, pulling out his key card. Once inside the room, he closed the door behind them. "If that wasn't an overreaction, there's no such thing. You are just so fucking stupid. Do you think he wants to fix things, Andy? To make things go back to the way they were? To be father and son, and live happily ever fucking after?"

"No," Andy said loudly and defiantly, crossing his arms like a toddler, "I know we have some issues, but he can eventually-"

"What? Calm down enough to lull you into a false sense of security before he pulls a Norman Bates on you one night in the shower? Get real, Andy. You guys are finished."

"No, we're not!" Andy roared, picking up a pillow and swinging it at Jon. It struck him in the chest, and he stumbled a little. 

"Oh, that's mature," Jon said with a humorless chuckle. "News flash, you fucking idiot. Your dad doesn't love you. He doesn't give a fuck about you. If you died tomorrow, he'd crack open the cooking sherry and have a goddamned one man party." He knew he was being cruel, and a part of him hated himself for acting this way, but a bigger part of himself loved the shocked look on Andy's face. Maybe Andy would finally realize what was happening and they could begin to move past this.

Andy stumbled back, trying to block out what he was hearing. It's not true, he told himself, still backing away from Jon. Then why would Jon say such thing to you, retard? the nasty voice told him. He loves you, you know that, so why, why, why would he say this if it wasn't true? 

Then the shocked look faded, and a dark and cold look replaced it. Fury rose in Andy as it never had before, and it frightened him with its intensity. You're not mad at him, not really, he tried to tell it, but it wasn't in a listening mood. It kept rising and rising until Andy could hear no other voices. 




The Dirty Pleasures Incident Ch. 09



Guess the end-of-the-month dream is out the window. Anyway, here's chapter nine, and I hope you guys enjoy. Only three more chapters to go!

*****

Andy's head rested against the right rear passenger window of the rental, the cold of the glass soothing his throbbing temples. He kept his eyes fixed determinedly on the passing scene below the highway, the streetlights growing ever brighter in the fading sunlight. The car was completely and uncomfortably silent, the only sounds coming from Nate's and Layla's respective chests has they snored lightly. 

They'd managed to get an SUV from the rental place at the airport, much to Anna's relief. She sat alone in the front, driving, the others deciding they would rather sleep on the trip home. Layla and Nate slept beside each other in the middle seat, their inhalations and exhalations in sync. Andy and Jonathan sat on opposite ends of the very back seat, each making it a point to stare nonstop out of their windows.

Every now and again, Andy would roll his eyes stealthily in Jon's direction, hoping to catch a fleeting glance of him. He had the look again, the deep-in-thought look that Andy so loved, but this time, his eyes, which were normally dancing and jovial, now looked cold and sharp although no less beautiful. They were as glacial and clear as they had been the night Andy first saw him in the dingy light of the store, but now Andy knew that he had a heart to match. The thought that he had damaged Jon when he said what he had said made his stomach do uncomfortable things and made his head hurt more, so the sidelong glances were inevitably brief, the pain of prolonging them too great for Andy to cope with.

His mind frequently wandered back to the moment he ruined everything, the episode playing again and again as he fought the urge to crawl over to Jon and cry in his lap. He wondered, with odd detachment, what would happen when they arrived at home. His home, Andy reminded himself. Not mine. Andy supposed he would have to move out and go home, alone. Maybe his father would be there, and they could begin to really work on fixing things. It's time I saw him face to face, Andy thought, uneasy. I have to settle this. If his father really couldn't accept him, Andy would just have to move out and get his own place. It was almost fall, anyway, he would be back off to school soon. He could probably convince his father to pay for the year, and then he would be on his own. The prospect seemed so bleak after he'd been with Jon. You'd better get used to it, he thought, stealing another sly glance at his first love. You're going to be alone for a long, long time. Maybe forever.

Looking at Jon was making him sad again, so he switched back to the window, surprised to find that it was full dark and the moon had risen. He sighed, closing his eyes. He could at least try to sleep. He was in for a long night.

*****

Jon stared mindlessly out of his window, thinking about where he and Andy would go from this point.

He had calmed down a little since the afternoon, and was able to think a lot more clearly than he had been in the heat of the moment. He realized that he had been unnecessarily blunt with Andy, who was having a very hard time accepting the loss of his father. He was just so frustrated that Andy couldn't see the truth that was staring him in the face that he let his anxiety over the notes and his mom and the danger they were in take over, his temper getting the better of him. He wished he'd just taken Andy aside and talked to him about all his worries, his fears, but it wasn't something he was used to doing. He was used to superficial high school relationships, and he wasn't accustomed to dealing with issues this heavy. He had definitely done a lot of growing up this summer.

It still hurt unbearably when he thought of what Andy had said to him, but he realized more with every passing minute that Andy was in a much more difficult position than he was. If his mother had done something like that to him, he might have a little trouble accepting it, too. It was going to take time and patience for Andy to get through this, and Jon intended to be there for him. He really did love him and he wasn't prepared to lose what they had over ten or fifteen words. He just hoped Andy felt the same way and didn't actually think he was jealous. 

He risked a look over at him, surprised to find that he was asleep. A small smile touched his lips, despite his slight annoyance at the fact that Andy could sleep right then. His soft, brown hair rested immobile and at odd angles on his head, and his long eyelashes fluttered slightly with each breath. His knees were drawn up to his chest, and his arms were wrapped securely around them. At least they had been when he was awake; now, his grip was loosening, and one leg as sliding, slowly but surely, toward the floor. When they hit a small bump a few moments later, it fell the rest of the way out, breaking the link between his arms and sending the other leg falling to the floor as well. He woke with a small start, blinking confusedly. Jon chuckled softly.

Andy looked quickly over at him, his eyes wide and innocent and desperate all at once. Jon made brief eye contact with him, then turned back toward his window, looking out. Andy kept looking at him for a moment, then sighed and closed his eyes again. When he was once more asleep, Jon looked back smiling again at his open and drooling mouth. As a bead of saliva ran down his chin, Jon felt a weight in his groin. That's enough out of you, he thought, looking down at his crotch. I won't let you screw things up. He turned back toward his window, seeing the Wilshire Boulevard exit sign up ahead. Figuring they still had about forty-five minutes until they got home, he closed his eyes, praying silently and fervently for a blessing from the God of Dreams. 

*****

"Nate…"

"Hmmmm…"

"Nate!" Layla whispered loudly. "We're at your house!"

"Okay, okay," he mumbled, climbing out of the car clumsily. "Gosh."

When he had disappeared into his house, Anna turned back toward Jon.

"Do you want me to drop you guys off at your house?" she whispered with a yawn.

"No, just drop us at the Park-N-Ride. My car's there; plus, it's closer to Enterprise."

"Cool."

They rode on in silence, Jon speaking only when she was pulling up next to his car. He moved to wake Andy, but Anna stopped him.

"Jon," she said softly.

"What?"

"I hope whatever's happening with you guys works out."

He stared at her for a moment, touched. "Thanks."

She smiled warmly, turning back toward the windshield. "So, what are we gonna do now?"

"Not a whole lot we can do," he said with a sigh, falling back against his seat. "Just have to wait and see what happens, I guess, as awful as that sounds."

"What about the last note? Do you really think they'd follow through with a bomb threat?"

"After what they've done to date, I see no reason to doubt them."

"Neither do I. I was hoping you could convince me otherwise."

"Sorry I can't help you out with that," he said, smiling. 

"Where do you think it'll be?"

"Before, I would have said the office, but now that they know who I am, it could be anyplace that I'll be."

"Awesome."

"I know, right? I guess we just have to keep our eyes open and stay alert. I just wish we had someone who knew what they were doing."

"We could go to the police."

"With a bomb threat and no other info about anything? Even if they believed us, what could they do?"

"You really know how to give a pep talk, don't you?"

"Just telling it like it is."

"I know, I'm just bummed."

"Bummed? I'm scared shitless."

She giggled, the sound waking Andy. He yawned adorably, and Jon smiled again. 

"Time to head home," he said, opening his door. He got out, Andy following suit. They waved to Anna, then turned toward the car. As Jon reached for his keys, Andy spoke.

"I'm so sorry," he said in a soft and watery voice, his eyes on the ground. 

Jon walked over to him, pocketing his keys. He gripped Andy's chin between two fingers and lifted his face up to meet his own. He planted a kiss, soft and sweet, on his lips, lingering for several moments before pulling away. 

"Don't worry about it tonight," he said quietly, squeezing Andy's had. "Let's just go home. We've had a long day."

"Okay," Andy said gratefully, almost delirious with relief that Jon wasn't mad at him anymore. His heart swelled with happiness at the thought that he might not lose everything all at once. 

They got into the car, still not completely comfortable around each other, but content for the moment, riding in companionable silence. The night slipped past them in an amber and black blur, with an occasional fleck of green or red to break the monotony.

*****

Thinking back on it later, Jon would be unable to remember which had come first- the smell or the sight.

They pulled up to the house, or what remained of it, just after midnight. He didn't even see the house at first; he might not have noticed anything was amiss if it hadn't been for the crime scene tape. A small piece, that he supposed had been tied somewhere and come loose, floated through the air toward the hood of his car, landing just below the windshield. Curious, he had been just about to wake Andy when he had seen/smelled what had once been his home.

There was very little of the actual house left; a few remaining beams still stood, the last remnants of the structure they had supported for almost twenty years. They were charred and brittle from base to tip, little clouds of ash still being blown loose from them in the light breeze. Everything else was simply gone. 

At the base of the pillars, there were huge piles of black dust and charred bits of unidentifiable origin. Jon opened his car door, sprinting toward the yard. On his way inside, he tripped over a huge piece of steel. Getting up, he looked furiously back at it, as if it were responsible for the scene in front of him. He recognized it immediately as an earthquake bolt.

He climbed to his feet, trying not to limp as he ambled toward the house, his heart beating faster with every stride. When he reached the gap where the door used to be, he stumbled through, tripping again, this time on something wooden, and falling hard. Screaming in frustration, he stood once again and started forward, dragging his feet through the heavy debris.

"MOM!" he screamed, stomping aimlessly through the rubble, not aware that he was walking in circles. "MOM!"

His breathing began to increase in rate along with his pulse, and before long he was on the verge of collapsing, completely disoriented and focused only on finding his mother.

"MOM! MOM! ANSWER ME! ARE YOU HERE?" He cried the last words breathlessly as he finally went down, putting his arms out in front of him to break his fall. Once he was on the ground, he began crawling, digging through the debris.

"Mom…" he whined quietly, tears filling his eyes and blurring his vision as he searched in vain. "Mommy…"

Andy, who had awoken when Jon began screaming, came bounding into the house, tripping himself before reaching the spot where Jon sat on his hands and knees.

"What the hell happened?" he asked, not really expecting an answer. He fell to the ground beside Jon, trying to see if something alive and dangerous had prompted his screams. 

"Mommy…" Jon repeated, barely cognizant of Andy beside him. "Where's…Where's my mom…" 

"Oh my God," Andy said, scooting closer to him. He took hold of Jon's face, bringing it close to his own to ensure that Jon heard him. 

"Think, Jon," he said seriously, shaking him when his gaze got vacant. "Was your mother here today? Did she go to work?"

"I..I don't know!" he cried, his face crumpling. "I don't know where she went or if she…I dunno! We…I didn't ask…I was mad 'cause she's never home and I didn't even ask…"

He collapsed onto the ground then, his entire body shaking with sobs. He wrapped his arms around himself and began to rock back and forth. Andy fought his own tears at seeing Jon so upset. He didn't know if Jon could take losing his mother after his father. Especially not now, when they were so close to falling apart. 

He scooted back up against a nearby pillar, pulling the still sobbing Jon into his lap. He offered no resistance, simply moved to wherever Andy's arms directed him. When Andy had finally maneuvered Jon's head onto his chest, he began planting little kisses on his forehead and blowing hot puffs of air onto the top of his head.

"We're going to get through this, Jon, I promise," he said, squeezing tighter to punctuate his words. "No matter what, I promise…"

This started a fresh round of sobs, and Andy simply held him there, reaching up now and again to run his fingers through Jon's hair or to wipe away his tears. The gentle wind blew small plumes of black dust up around them and the charred smell was awful, but they lay there like that for a long, long time.

*****

When he finally stopped crying, it was almost morning. The center of the sky was just beginning to lighten, and Andy had long since fallen asleep. Jon, exhausted, looked up at him adoringly, and climbed his chest until they were face to face. He started slow, pressing his lips gently to Andy's, then getting more serious, sliding his tongue slowly between Andy's lips.

He stopped when Andy started to stir, pulling away. 

"Sleep well?" he asked, hoping a little levity would make things less horrible. It didn't.

Andy smiled brightly, the smile he'd first seen in the shop that day. It made him feel like crying again, so he looked away, pretending to be preoccupied with some dust between his fingers. Andy reached up and ran a hand through his hair. 

"Better than I have in weeks," he replied, not lying.

"What should we do now?" Jon asked, sounding uncharacteristically childish and unsure of himself. 

"Well," Andy said with a sigh, running his thumb over Jon's cheek, "we should probably try and get in touch with your mother."

Jon's face crumpled again, and he leaned into Andy's hand. "Can't we do that later?"

"Jon, we have to know if she made it or not. The longer you wait to find out, the worse it'll be…"

Jon took a deep breath, and then let it out slowly. "Okay," he resigned quietly, still pressing his face into Andy's hand. He looked up suddenly, his eyes bright. "I'm hungry," he said simply.

Realizing that he was still a little out of it, Andy stood, taking Jon's hand and pulling him up. "Okay," he said, smiling. "Let's go to McDonald's. I never get up early enough to get their breakfast."

To his surprise Jon smiled too, and they walked like that, hand in hand, back to Jon's car. When they arrived, Jon walked around to the driver's side. "No way," Andy said, stepping up beside him.

"Yeah, okay," Jon said noncommittally, and walked around to the other door. When they were inside, Andy asked for the keys. "Oh, right," Jon said, reaching into his pocket. When he pulled his keys out, his cell phone fell onto the floor. Picking it up, he was surprised to find that he had thirty-six missed calls and seventy-two new text messages. Sixteen were from his mother, most dated in the last two hours. His face crumpled again, and he hugged the phone to his chest, more relieved than he'd ever been in his life. Alarmed, Andy grabbed his shoulder.

"What?! What's wrong?"

"My…my mom…" he said, trying to speak coherently through his tears. "She…"

"What?!" Andy demanded, terrified that she was dead.

Jon handed him the phone, his attempts at spoken communication proving less than adequate. Andy looked at the phone for a moment, then sagged in his seat with relief. Thank God, he thought, leaning over to squeeze Jon. He kissed him on the forehead again, and then on the lips. After a moment, he began to calm down and kiss Andy back. He pulled away, reaching for the keys to start the car.

"What do you say we go for broke and get the McGriddles?"

Jon laughed. It was beautiful. "If there was every a day to forget calories, this is it."

*****

After a rather jerky ride through the drive through, they sat in the parking lot of McDonald's, eating. Andy stopped after his third sandwich.

"We should probably start calling people back," he said, picking up a hash brown. "You're mom probably knows we should be back in town by now. She's probably already talked to Nate or Layla."

"Christ, you're right," he replied, putting down his own hash brown. He picked up his phone and started to call his mother back. She didn't pick up, and on the seventh ring, Jon gave up. 

"I wonder where she is," Andy mused, looking over at Jon.

"She's probably at my aunt's house, now that I think about it. Why in the world didn't I think to call her or check my phone last night?"

"You were a little preoccupied with your destroyed residence," Andy said patiently, touching his forearm. "You were in shock, and just assumed she was dead."

The word sent a shiver down his spine. "Ugh," he said, reaching for his orange juice. "I don't even want to think about it."

Just then, his phone sounded, and he nearly wasted his drink in his haste to answer. Andy caught the cup just before it hit the floor of the car.

"Hello?" he said quickly, phone pressed tightly to his head. 

"Dude, where are you?" Nate asked loudly, sounding irritated. "We've been calling you all night! Your mom is worried sick. She said she called you a bunch of times, and you didn't answer, even though it was way after we got back from Orange County-"

"Nate," he said with a chuckle, "slow down. We're eating at McDonald's right now, but-"

"You're eating at fucking McDonald's?!"

He laughed again. "Yes, and we know about the house. We were there last night-" his voice shook a little- "and we just need to know where she is, so that we can go to her."

"She's at your aunt's house, the one in Ana Verde."

"We'll head over there now," Jon said, looking over at Andy, who started the car.

"Better bring a Kevlar vest," Nate quipped. 

"I'm sure that won't be necessary," Jon said, not at all sure his words were true. "Thanks for filling us in, though. If she calls again, tell her we're on our way."

"Yeah, okay," he conceded. "I see you guys later. We have some major stuff to discuss."

"Don't I know it. Bye."

After he had hung up, he took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the headrest. 

"You okay?" Andy asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he lied, looking out of his window. 

"You don't have to be fine all the time, you know," he replied. "It's okay to still be shaken up over this. It's a pretty big deal."

"I guess so," Jon answered vaguely. He closed his eyes again, and the next thing he knew, they were pulling up to one of the largest houses he'd seen to date.

*****

Leah Evanston was not pleased. 

She had been in the middle of a CSI: Miami marathon when her sister had called, hysterical and crying, saying her house had been burned down. At first, she had been convinced it was a practical joke of some kind, designed specifically to ruin the perfect evening she'd been having; but, after about twenty minutes of Elaine's frenzied screams, she'd been forced to say goodbye to Horatio Caine and hello to a houseguest.

She had stayed up all night, comforting Elaine and talking to State Farm agents, all the while wishing that the house could have burned down on the night of the CSI: New York marathon, since she hated that show. Now, Elaine was sleeping, and Leah was just settling down to see what was on TNT when the doorbell rang.




The Dirty Pleasures Incident Ch. 10



Chapter ten! High action chapter. We've pretty much been building to this since the beginning, so I hope it lives up to everyone's expectations. Comment!

*****

Jonathan waved goodbye to his mother as her Camry climbed the small hill that led back to the main road, still in his pajamas. It was very early, but she had wanted to leave before traffic got to be a bitch kitty. As she disappeared from his sight, he yawned, still exhausted from the previous night. 

Not ready to head back into the house just yet, he wandered around the small yard, stepping gingerly to avoid scraping his bare feet on the rocks. He stopped when he reached the side of the house, leaning up against it to watch the sun rise. This is gonna be a day, he thought, poring over the preparations they still had to make for the memorial. The city was footing the bill, thank God, and they already had the announcements out and the seats arranged. He was turning to go inside and call Anna about the guest speakers when Andy planted a kiss on the back of his neck. He leaned back into it, grinning.

"Mornin', sunshine," he quipped, turning to face Andy. Andy smiled contentedly, pressing his forehead to Jon's and lacing the fingers on both of his hands through Jon's. He brought their hands up to his lips, kissing them. 

"Morning," he replied, closing his eyes. He inhaled, making a memory. "What should we do today?" He opened them, staring into his lover's.

"Mmmmm," Jon hesitated, noticing Andy's expression, "I wish we could, baby, but I have so much work to do for the memorial. It's in three days, and I'm not even sure if Anna has confirmed the guest speakers yet."

"It's okay," Andy acquiesced, not wanting to put more strain on Jon than he already had done. "I should sketch some more anyway; I'm supposed to add five good pieces to my portfolio this summer, and one has already been destroyed..."

Jon's face fell, and his eyes were cast off to the right. "I'm sorry," he started, but Andy put a finger to his lips, silencing him.

"Not your fault," he said simply. Jon's frown lifted, and he smiled, kissing their entwined hands. 

"'Kay," he answered simply.

They stood there for a while, enjoying each other, until Jon reluctantly ended the moment, letting go of Andy's hands and moving past him to go inside. Andy followed closely behind, disappointed against his will. 

While Jon headed down the hall to get dressed, Andy sat down on the sofa, resigned to a solitary workday. He sighed, reaching into one of their overnight bags for his sketching pencils and a pad. 

He leaned back on the sofa and crossed his legs under him, setting the pad on top of his knees. He closed his eyes and waited for the picture to come to him. When it was still absent after fifteen minutes, he opened them again, annoyed.

There's only a few weeks of summer left, he thought, stretching the stiffness out of his legs. I really need to get a move on if I want to have a portfolio ready by December. Grumbling, he got up and went to the kitchen to make a sandwich.

Jon bounded out of the bathroom, knocking things over in the search for his car keys. He finally found them behind one of the sofa pillows, and he shoved them into his pocket.

Andy came out of the kitchen when he heard Jon moving around, carrying his sandwich. Jon looked up at him, smiling at his shirtless form the smudges of mustard on his chin. He groaned inwardly, again sorry to be leaving. He hurried over, planted a peck on his cheek, the licked a glob of stray mayo off of his face.

"Hey!" Andy exclaimed, swiping the back of his hand across his mouth.

"See you tonight, babe!" Jon shouted, already out the door.

Andy shook his head, stopping to look in the mirror hanging over the fireplace. When he was satisfied that his face was presentable, he finished his sandwich and headed back to get dressed. He passed the water cooler that stood next to the hall closet, and he stopped for a moment, staring at it curiously and thinking of the ones that had set off this whole business. His mind swirled with slippery ideas, and he wrestled with them for a few moments before letting them go. 

*****

Lucille Browning was waiting.

She was parked across the street from the kid's house, waiting for someone to come back. She could tell that someone had been home since her last visit - the front shades were pulled - and they would probably return within a few hours. She had obtained a search warrant - not a real one, but a search warrant nonetheless - and she intended to use it, one way or another.

I wish I knew what he looked like, she thought to herself, balling up her McChicken wrapper and putting it in the bag. I might have been able to spot him in town. This place isn't so big.

She leaned back, stretching her arms above her head and thinking. It's not only the kid, she mused. The father's around somewhere too.

She wondered what her lieutenant would say if he knew she was up here on a stake out outside of her jurisdiction, then decided she didn't care. The kid needed to be protected, and she knew a thing or two about abusive fathers. Besides, she had taken a liking to the kid and his attitude, even if she didn't know him that well and he was a pain in the ass as a victim. No, she would stay, and sooner or later it had to pay off.

***** 

In Arizona, the Arrowhead man started his truck and took a sip of his coffee, steeling himself for a long and boring drive. The XM was out, the Interstate was deserted, and he'd forgotten his CD case at home. At least he had a trainee - occasionally he got one that was a good road buddy.

He finally saw the man walking toward him, and he gave a wave. The man waved back, then started jogging toward the truck. He opened the door and hopped inside, smiling and offering his hand. 

The Arrowhead man shook it. "I'm Smith," he said, letting go and taking another drink of coffee. "You?"

"Lyle," the man said quietly, looking straight ahead. "Lyle Pannebaker."

"Good to meet you, Lyle," Smith said, pulling out of the warehouse lot and onto the Interstate. "You gonna be a good driving partner? Not gonna bore me to death, are ya?"

"No," Lyle said, smiling wanly. "I don't think you'll be bored at all."

***** 

"Is that everything?" Jon asked, sitting back in his chair. It was three in the morning, and the memorial was going to start at three that afternoon. He really wanted to get home and get some rest before he had to come back.

"I think it is," Anna sighed, moving a pile of papers from one table to another. "We've got all the speakers in order, the seats have been assigned, and the memorial headstone will arrive in the morning around nine. There's also a shipment of water bottles coming in around the same time; they're predicting some pretty high temperatures for tomorrow. The funerals were last week, but some of the family members are gonna wanna talk tomorrow too, and I've set aside some extra time for them. Ledford is going to arrive around seven for the dedication of the stone, and then he's out. Hopefully, they're won't be many upsets." She yawned, collapsing into a seat. 

"What about food?"

"There's a dinner afterward at LPAC, and people are just caravanning out there, I guess. I dunno, and I don't really care at the moment. It's not a part of my job description. I'm just supposed to get this thing to roll smoothly."

"I hear you," he said with a tired smile. He looked off to his left, not really seeing anything. "Do you think this'll turn out okay, Annie?"

"It better," she snorted, rolling her eyes. "We've nearly killed ourselves planning it."

"That's not what I meant."

"They haven't done anything at all so far, Jon," she reassured him, "and they've had plenty of opportunity. No, this thing will go over fine. It's you and Andy I'm worried about."

"Yeah?"

"Of course. They burned down your house, Jon. They found out where you live, and tried to hurt your family. You guys are the ones that are in real danger. Did you ever hear back from the fire department, by the way?"

"Yeah, my mom called earlier. She said they said there was definitely an accelerant used, given the speed at which the place burned, there might have been a few small explosions. Some of the foundation of the house was out in the street." He closed his eyes, trying to get the image out of his mind. "We're so lucky that nobody got hurt, Annie. We never should have messed with them; if we'd have just minded our own business, none of this would have happened..."

"That's not true, and you know it," she interrupted. "They were the ones who started this whole mess, Jon. They hit us first. What should we have done? Sat around doing nothing and waited for them to do something even worse? Now we at least know their names and where they make their plans. If something else should happen, we'll be able to provide the police with really important shit about how to find them."

"Really important shit?" Jon muttered.

"Yes, really important shit. Now stop beating yourself up, head home and get some rest."

"Aren't you going home?" he asked, standing.

"Nope," she replied. "I have to be back here in five hours to receive the shipments, so there's really no point. I'll crash on the back couch."

"Okay," he said reluctantly. "Be safe."

"Always," she said, closing and locking the door behind him. He waved to her, and she waved back before disappearing into the back of the office. Jon got in his car and headed for the highway, anxious to get back to Andy and the bed. Tomorrow, Or, rather, today, he reminded himself, was going to be a long day and he was going to need a full night's rest to get through it. Turning on his high beams, he headed onto the dark highway that led to the cabin.

*****

Andy stared blankly at the television, flipping channels without regard for what was on them. He looked up toward the window in the front of the cabin, and when he didn't see any sign of Jon, he turned back toward the television, still surfing. Where the hell is he? he wondered, somewhat annoyed. He knew Jon was going to be busy, but it was almost four in the morning. How much work could there be?

He'd managed to keep busy enough all day - he'd gotten a sketch completed, which was a small miracle, and he'd talked to Nate and Layla to see if anything drastic had happened. Neither of them had heard from Pannebaker of anyone else from APS, and nothing out of the ordinary had either of them worried. "Maybe they just decided to fuck off," Nate had suggested.

As much as he would love to believe that they were simply going to go away, he doubted it. They had certainly worked hard enough to get to them at the Greenpeace office, and Pannebaker had seemed pretty angry when he found out who they were, even if he hadn't caught up to them. Then they had burned Jon's house down; Andy was sure of it. There was simply no way that they were going to give up the goose after going this far. He just couldn't imagine what direction they would go in next.

He sighed, rolling onto his back and looking up at the ceiling. He hated feeling so unsure of things. It was all he seemed to feel lately - unsure about his dad, unsure about Jon, unsure about whether or not someone was lying in wait for the chance to hurt or kill him - and he was getting sick of it. Why did he always have to be the victim? Every time he took two steps he needed to be saved, to be supported. It was really starting to hurt his pride.

Then stop it, a voice in his head told him. It was the same one that had warned him not to come out to his father. This time though, Andy decided to listen. If it came to a fight for his life, could he win? Or would Jon have to come riding in on a white horse to save him yet again? 

He shook his head as if to shake the thought from his mind, and stood up. He turned off the TV and went back into the kitchen, where his sketch from earlier was resting. He picked it up, looking at the people in it and wondering who they were.

There were two people, of that he was sure, and he could confidently say that they seemed like women. They were sitting on a small hill on top of a blanket, very close together. There was a tree behind them, and it had apples on it. He stared at it, wondering why the place seemed so familiar. He didn't recognize the people in it, so why the déjà vu? 

He was still standing there fifteen minutes later when he heard Jon pull into the drive. He set it down quickly, hurrying to the front door. It's about time, he thought to himself. Way to worry me, Jon.

He opened the door, going out to greet him as Jon climbed out of his car and locked the doors. 

"What took so long?" Andy asked, shivering. He hadn't thought he would need a jacket, but the nights were a lot colder up here in the mountains than they were in the valley.

"We got caught up with the seating chart," Jon replied, stepping up onto the porch with effort. He yawned. "A few people cancelled and some others said they were bringing additional guests, so we pretty much had to redo the whole thing." He yawned again, then slid and arm around Andy's waist.

"So we're all set for tomorrow? No problems?" Andy asked, his voice apprehensive. 

"Well, I wouldn't go so far as to say there won't be any problems, but hopefully we'll avoid the big ones." They stepped across the threshold, and Jon sat down on the couch, pulling Andy down onto his lap and squeezing his midsection.

"Miss me?" Andy asked, leaning backward into the hug. Jon nuzzled his back, purring.

"Yeah," he said simply. "What did you do all day?"

"Well," Andy said, sliding off Jon's lap and onto the seat next to him, "I got a decent amount of sketching done. I almost finished a piece; I couldn't believe it. It usually takes me at least a week."

"That's great," Jon said sleepily, nuzzling his neck. After a few more minutes of cuddling, Jon's motions got a little more serious, his playful fondling turning to stroking. Andy sighed softly as Jon's hand slipped between his thighs, his middle finger tracing the outline of his cock through the thin flannel. His head lolled back onto the couch pillow, and Jon took the opportunity to start suckling and nibbling on one of his earlobes. Andy sighed again, leaning toward him.

"Mmmm..." Andy moaned, repositioning his hips. Jon laughed, and the sound reverberated against Andy's neck, making him moan again. His own hand moved down to cover Jon's, pressing it harder against his cock. He let out a little yelp as Jon's other hand reached into his shirt and pinched one of his nipples. 

Jon's lips moved down to Andy's collarbone, his tongue swirling in the crevasse and his teeth biting gently on the bone. He moved his hand from its position between Andy's legs, drawing a disappointed groan from Andy, and pushed it under the waistband of his pants, gripping his cock and stroking lightly. Andy's back arched and he yelped again.

Jon continued to stroke his shaft lightly, tracing the vein with his index finger and drawing louder and more frustrated moans from him. Andy kept moving his hips, trying to get Jon to touch the head, but he wouldn't, instead moving his hand further upward and teasing the base of his cock. Growling, Andy finally slipped his own hand into his pants, gripping the head of his cock and rubbing furiously, his breath quickening with every move of his palm. 

"That's it, baby," Jonathan breathed, moving his lips back to Andy's neck and his other hand down into Andy's belly button. "You're so close, babe, you're almost there..."

Andy whimpered, his hips rotating freely now as he worked his palm faster. The contrast between Jon's slow, teasing touch and his own desperate rubbing was driving him to the edge, and quickly. Beads of sweat trickled from his hairline and ran down his neck, and Jon licked them away, dragging his tongue across the taught skin slowly and deliberately. 

"Mmmff..." Andy mumbled as Jon's finger played with his belly button. He could feel himself getting close, and began to let out a whimper or a moan with every exhalation. Sensing his release was near, Jon began to speed up his strokes until they were almost as rapid as Andy's. Andy's back arched again, and Jon bit gently on Andy's earlobe, knowing it was time. 

Andy let a passionate noise somewhere between a groan and a growl; long, low, and loud. His hips jumped rhythmically and his legs scissored open and closed as his cock spurted into his hand, squirting downward past his palm and between his fingers. He finally went limp after almost a minute, spent. He looked over at Jon, and appreciative smile on his face, and found that his lover was struggling to keep his eyes open. 

"Don't you want to..." he began, but Jon shook his head, yawning. 

"That was about all I can manage for tonight," he said with a tired smile. "I'm too sleepy for much else. Let's go to sleep. You can pay me back for this tomorrow or something." He yawned again, and reluctantly sat up, taking Andy's hand and heading in the direction of the bedroom. 

He wobbled on his feet, stumbling periodically until Andy put an arm around his shoulders and looped Jon's arm around his neck, carrying him off into the bedroom. Jon collapsed onto the bed, and Andy pulled his clothes off, putting some extra pajamas on him before helping him under the covers. He slid in next to him, wrapping an arm around his waist before closing his own eyes. 

***** 

There was someone watching his house.

Even though he had stayed put in the basement after his first foray into the house, he knew this, sure as he knew is own name. He was going to have to be really crafty if he wanted to get out of there without being noticed.

He turned the identification card over and over in his hands, growing more and more determined with every hour that passed. The man on the card had corrupted his son.

Richard knew he had overreacted the day in San Marcos, but over the last few days he had realized just how badly he had handled the whole thing. Andy was just confused, that was all; this Jonathan person had simply caught him at a moment of weakness and taken advantage of him. His son wasn't at fault; if he could get rid of this raven haired boy, there might be some chance he could save his son's life. All he needed was a little direction. 

Richard reached up onto the top shelf, pulling down a small duffel. It was the one Andy used to take to camp when he was little. I'm coming to get you, son, he thought.

He put a flashlight in it beside the clothes that were already stashed within, added a car door opener, cables, and a few NutriGrain bars, just for good measure. Then, he stood up on the stool, and began working at the screws that held the window in place. When they were undone, he gently slid the window out, careful not to make any noise.

He grabbed the bag and tossed it out first, breathing a sigh of relief when it landed quietly in the grass. He climbed out behind it as stealthily as he could, crawling on elbow and knees through the grass until he reached the cover of the neighbors' bushes. He stood up slowly, looking across the street.

He saw it, the car that was stationed in front of his house; he snorted, fuming. So the little bastard thought he could get him that easy? First he'd stolen his child, turned him into a cocksucker, and now he thought he could stop Richard Owens with a beat up Ford and an off duty rent-a-cop, did he? Well, they would just see about that, wouldn't they?

He dropped back down onto hands and knees and crawled a few more houses away, where he saw an Altima that belonged to one of the kids in the neighborhood. Reasoning that they'd probably forgotten to lock it, he stood and walked over to it, trying the driver's door. It was unlocked, as he'd suspected, and he immediately got down to the business of starting it without a key. When he heard the ignition turn over, he grinned, jumped inside, and pulled away from the curb. He was sure that the cop in front of his house had heard the car start, and though they probably wouldn't think it was him, he decided to get out of the neighborhood as soon as possible. You just never knew what people might do, did you?




The Dirty Pleasures Incident Ch. 11



Second to last chapter, guys. I'm halfway through twelve, so try not to be too pissed at me. I won't make you wait long.

*****

Lucille heard the blast, but passed it off, like most did, as God-knew-what-testing out by the base. She'd only been in the city for a few days, but even she knew that the boys out there made an awful lot of noise.

She was back on the East side by then, on her way to an obscure office on what could be nothing other than the city's main street. The girl at the booth, by some small miracle, had known Andy, and had told her that he was off in search of another girl who was late for whatever it was she was supposed to be on time for. Lucille had quickly forgotten her name - it wasn't important, not to her - and had raced to her car, hurrying to get back before she missed the kid. She turned into the parking lot, pulling in next to a beat up old sedan. She got out, and headed for the door.

He'd better be here, she thought, trying the handle. I'm getting tired of all this Scooby-Doo mystery shit.

*****

Richard was sitting on the sofa when he heard the noises coming from the front of the office. He stood up, moving silently to the back wall of the room. He opened a door, then stepped into a closet with a mop and bucket in it. His foot kicked it, and the sound reverberated in the small space. He hoped whoever was coming in hadn't heard.

He kept both hands on the butt of the gun and one eye at the crack of the open door, silent. The newcomer's footsteps echoed in the empty office, and he tensed, waiting for a clear shot.

"Hello?" a woman called. Richard blinked. He hadn't been expecting a woman. No matter. His finger tightened on the trigger.

"Anyone here?" she said, coming into his line of sight for the first time. Her back was to him, but Richard stopped short, struck. He knew her. Somehow.

He wrenched open the door, holding his weapon in front of him.

*****

"It's busy again," Anna said, closing her phone. "What the hell is going on? Why are the police not answering the phone?"

"I don't know..." Andy started. He heard someone yelling outside of the door. Anna sat up, listening.

"Hello?" a woman called.

"Someone's here!" Andy said, standing up. Anna followed, and they began to move the bookshelf out from behind the door.

"We're in here!" Anna yelled, shoving.

The woman turned the door handle and tried to push in. Then she stopped, and let out a cry.

There was a gunshot, and then silence.

*****

The sky was yellow. Jonathan looked up at it, marveling. It was a funny thing, really.

Maybe the sun was just really big today.

He was warm, and he was on a cloud. There was a beeping somewhere far below him, but he ignored it as he floated away.

*****

Anna pulled open the door, peeking out carefully. She saw a woman standing over a man with a gun in her hand. She sighed, and stepped out, pulling Andy with her.

"Who are you?" Andy asked as the woman lowered her weapon. She took a few steps toward him, her eyes wide. She looked back at the Richard again.

"It can't really be him, can it?" she asked, staring at him in disbelief.

"Who? My dad?"

Lucille paled, looking faint. "So you...you're..."

"Andy," he said, looking confused. "Who are you?"

"I'm..." she collapsed onto the couch, staring at him. "Lucille. Lucille Browning."

Andy thought for a moment. "The cop?"

She nodded.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Looking for you," she said a little more lucidly, the color returning to her face. " I didn't realize...never even considered that you might be that Andy...the odds..."

"What's going on? What are you talking about?" Anna was kneeling near Richard, looking shocked.

"When I saw him, I just couldn't believe it. It's Richard. Richard..."

"Do you know him?" Andy asked, avoiding looking at the floor.

"He...you...I knew your mother."

"What? What do you mean?"

"We were together. For a while at least. And you, you were small..."

Andy's mouth formed an O. "You...you and my mother were lovers?"

Anna looked up, her brow furrowed. "Yeah," Lucille said. "Yeah, we were."

"Well...uh...what?" Andy slumped backward, closing his eyes.

"I know," Lucille said.

"Uh, guys," Anna said. "What are we gonna do?"

"Call 911," Lucille said, coming back to herself. " I need to get out of the twilight zone," she muttered.

They called twelve times before anyone answered, and it was another three hours before anyone came to pick him up. While they waited, they sat there silently, staring at the walls.

Richard was long since dead.

Andy rode in the ambulance to the hospital, while Lucille and Anna took her car and followed. He didn't say anything. The EMT looked at him funny, but didn't say anything either.

*****

They sent Richard to the basement with the other dead people.

Andy sat in a hallway on a folding chair. People walked back and forth, moving things in buckets and crates from one end to the other. Some of them looked at him; a few came close to asking him what he was doing, but none quite made it.

The walls were silver, and they had CAUTION and DANGER: GAS UNDER HIGH PRESSURE signs on them every few feet. Andy concentrated on reading the warnings. It was comforting.

He was halfway through a list of common items in something called an MSDS when Lucille sat down beside him.

"Anna's gone upstairs to see if anyone she knows got hurt," she said. Her voice was soft, and her eyes were trained on his face. He kept his gaze on the book on his lap.

"I take it you've heard about the explosion."

He didn't say anything, but he froze for a moment before turning the page. The next page was headed with the word 2-butanol. He began to study to carbon chain diagram.

"He hit his head pretty hard, and he broke his leg," she said, placing a hand on his forearm. He pulled away, setting it on his lap. She sighed. "I know he'd love to see you."

Andy didn't respond.

"Well, the police already interviewed everyone," she continued, leaning against the back of her chair. "Except for you, that is. They'll be around soon, so I hope you'll be ready when they come."

When he continued to ignore her, she stood up. "You know, Andy," she said, looking down at him, "you can get through this if you try, but nobody can do it for you."

She waited for a moment, hoping he would speak. He didn't, so she left, heading down the hall. Her lieutenant knew by now where she was, and he was probably less than amused. She sighed, pushing the elevator button.

*****

"BABY!"

Jonathan jerked awake as his mother squealed her way into his room. He had only just fallen back asleep after the nurse had come in and fed him some toast and apple sauce. Anna sat across from him beside Nate. Layla was in the bad next to him, but only because there were no more chairs; she'd only sustained a few cuts and bruises. Jon couldn't believe how lucky she was - she'd been closer to the explosion than he had. He sighed, and put on a smile for his mom, who was now hovering over him, afraid to touch.

"It's only my leg that's broken, Mom," he said. "The rest of me is just kind of sore."

"Oh!" She bent forward and squeezed his chest gingerly, still not convinced it was safe. Anna stood up and brought her chair over, heading back to sit on Nate's lap. His mom sat down, grabbing his hand. He saw that her eyes were filled with tears, and reached a hand up to her face.

"Mom," he said softly, wiping her cheek with his thumb. "It's okay, I'm fine...please, stop..." She hiccupped a few times and then settled, her eyes still swimming.

"What the hell happened? Was all of this just because you were working in the same building as Save The Children?"

Jon looked sheepish, and averted his gaze to the yellow ceiling of the room. Behind his mother's head, Layla pretended to be asleep.

"Uhhh..." he said.

"What does that mean?"

"Well, maybe we were a bit more involved than that..."

*****

It was the security guard that finally made him leave.

He came down the employee stairs, ambling toward Andy. "Time to go, kid," he said. "We're locking this place down for the night."

"Can I come back tomorrow?" he said quietly.

"I don't see why not," he said. "But we're closed from midnight to nine. You can probably come back then."

Andy stood, putting the MSDS back into it's container. He'd gotten all the way to the T's today; he could probably finish the whole thing by noon if he arrived at nine. He didn't consider what he'd do after that.

He shuffled down the hallway toward the elevators. When one arrived, he headed upstairs. He asked the nurse at the station where he could find Jonathan.

"He's in that room right there," she said, pointing across the hall. "He sure has a lot of visitors."

Andy headed into the room. The TV was on, still covering the bombing. Nate was asleep in a chair in a corner, and Anna slept on his lap. Layla slept in a bed next to Jonathan, and her father was asleep on the floor next to her in a sleeping bag. Jonathan's mother slept sitting in a chair and resting her head on Jonathan's arm. Jon slept, a machine beeping rhythmically.

There were no seats left.

He sighed, turning and heading back into the hallway. He looked up at the sign hanging from the ceiling, and after a moment, followed the blue line to the cafeteria.

*****

The sun rose early that morning, and the rays cut a straight and narrow path to Jonathan's eyelids. He woke up, trying to blink the light away. When it didn't work, he pressed the call button. A nurse came in, smiling.

"Need more painkillers?" she said.

"No, not yet," he laughed. "I just need help getting to the bathroom."

"Didn't they put a cath in?"

"No," he said hurriedly. "It hurt too much."

She laughed, then walked around to the other side of his bed to help him out. "Yeah, that's what they tell me."

When he was done, she helped him back across the room and into bed. "When they wake up, tell 'em we're givin' away muffins downstairs for he victims' families."

"Thanks," he said. She went back to her desk in he hallway.

Now that all the distractions were asleep, he started to worry about Andy. Where had he gone? He realized that the explosion happened before they could find out; Andy was still missing. He thought suddenly of Andy's father. Had he gotten to him? Was he still in danger now? He pressed the call button again.

"Need 'em now?" she said when she came in.

"No, no," he said. "I was just wondering if anyone else came to visit me last night."

"Well, the nurse that was on duty last night already left," she said, "but we were having visitors sign in in case other people called about 'em. Nobody else signed in after your mother, so I don't think so."

"Oh," he said.

"Don't worry," she said, smiling. "They'll probably come by today."

"Yeah."

He reached into his mother's purse and took out her cell phone. He knew he wasn't supposed to use it up here, but what could they do? Sue him?

*****

Andy's phone vibrated in his pocket, and he startled awake, looking around in confusion. Then he remembered why he was there. He looked at his phone, saw the number, and set it down on the table. When it stopped vibrating, he cleared the call and looked at the time. Seven.

He didn't recognize the number, but he had a feeling it was Jonathan calling. He turned the phone off. He wasn't in the mood to talk.

It would be a while before he could go back downstairs, but he couldn't risk staying here; they might come looking for food and find him. Plus, he wasn't sure he wanted to go back to the basement.

He reached into his pocket and found three dollars and some change. He stood up, stretched, and looked back out into the hall toward the sliding glass doors that led out of the hospital. Sighing, and pocketed his money and headed outside. The buses still ran over here, didn't they?

*****

"Where the hell could he have gone?"

Jonathan frowned as his mother helped him out of bed. Layla was standing beside her with his jacket, and Nate held the crutches. After three days, he was finally being allowed to leave. He'd spent what seemed like forever laying in bed, answering the Sherriff's questions and worrying about Andy. Nobody seemed to know where he was, even though Anna had been with him when they'd arrived at the hospital.

"He's having a hard time about his dad," she'd said the day before after he had demanded she tell him the story of what happened for the fifth time. "He was being all weird and silent."

"What about the cop lady? Have you called her? Maybe he told her where he is or something. You said her and his mom had a thing, right?"

"I already called her, Jon," she said, touching his hand. "She doesn't know where he is either, but she said she'd be back here as soon as she got things sorted out to help look for him."

Now, as he practiced balancing on the crutches and not on his newly cast leg, he wracked his brain again for places Andy might be taking refuge. They'd already checked his house and called his school. They'd even checked the cabin, though without a car, they knew it was a long shot. No, Andy was still in the city somewhere, and it frustrated Jon that he didn't know where Andy would go to get away from it all.

Once he was steady, Anna moved away from him and took Nate's hand. "Let's get out of here," she said. "I really want to go home." Nate smiled, and led her from the room, calling out a halfhearted goodbye to everyone and waving his arm. Jon smiled and they disappeared into the hall.

"I'd better go, too," Layla said, embracing him unexpectedly. "My dad was super shaken up by this whole thing, and even though he doesn't say it, I can tell he wants me to spend some time at home with him and my mom." Jon nodded.

"Don't worry," she said, turning in the doorway. "He loves you. He'll turn up, Jon. He just needs a little time."

"Yeah," Jon said. "I hope so."

She left, and then it was just him and his mom. She'd already signed the papers the nurse had given her, so they were free to go. They made their way out to the parking lot, and Jon realized he had no way to get his car home. He said as much, and his mom shrugged.

"I'll send somebody to pick it up later," she said.

Jon sighed, not at all pleased about not being able to drive. He slid in the passenger seat, and closed the door. She headed for the freeway.

"Where to?" she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Cabin. I want to look for Andy again later."

"Baby," she said quietly, "I think you're gonna have to let him come to you."

"Does that mean I should just quit looking?" he said heatedly.

"I'm afraid it does, sweetheart. You can't walk right now, Jon. What good will it do for you to sit around all day feeling helpless? He doesn't want to be found yet. I'm sorry, but there's nothing you can do."

"Fine," he said. "Just take me to the cabin. You can go on to L.A. I'll look for him myself."

"You'll do no such thing," she said. "What are you going to do at the cabin? Starve? You can barely even get around on your own, and you'll be in that cast for two months. No, babe, you're coming with me."

Jon stared at her for a moment, before turning back to his window in a huff. His eyes filled with tears, but he closed them before they could fall.

*****

Nate sat against the headboard, grinning. He pulled Anna against his chest, feeling another rush as her nipples pressed into his chest. She hadn't been kidding about the double D's.

"Where do you think he is?" She asked, looking up at him.

"I dunno," he said, still fully in cuddly afterglow mode. She pinched his skin near his belly button, and he started.

"Ow!"

"Pay attention," she said, massaging the sore spot. "Think. You've known him a lot longer than we have. Where does he go when he's upset?"

"Nowhere," he said. "I mean, sometimes he comes over to my house, but usually he just hangs out in his room until he sorts things out."

Anna let out an exasperated sigh, rolling onto her back and staring at the ceiling. "Well, we already checked there. We check there like every four hours. If he's not at your house or with Jon or at home, where is he?"

Nate slid down in the bed, spooning Anna's back and stroking her hair. "I don't know," he said. "I just can't think of where he might go."

*****

"I had to find him!" she screamed. "You didn't see him when he came into the hospital, Rick. He was almost dead. Did you expect me to forget about it?"

"Lucy, don't give me that shit," he said, rocking backward in his rolling chair. "Palmdale is in Los Angeles county. You work in San Diego county. Why didn't you just forward it to someone up there? Lyons works for the Sherriff's department, and he's a solid guy. You've known him for years-"

"Oh, whatever," she said, turning on him. "Are you gonna fire me, or what?"

"No," he said. "I don't have just cause to do that, and you know it. You went up there on your own time. I can't tell you where to be when you're not at work. But I can't believe you broke into a house, Lucy. With a fake search warrant, no less. Do you realize what a shit storm you would have created if you'd been caught? Not to mention the fact that you killed a man. It was in self defense, so nobody's making trouble, but still...you shouldn't have been there."

"I'm not sorry," she said. "If I hadn't, Andy'd be dead."

"Oh, he's 'Andy' now?"

She looked away.

"Are you keeping anything from me, Lucy? Do you know this kid?"

She sighed, falling into one of the seats in front of his desk. "Maybe I should start at the beginning."

*****

Andy sat in the small attic, looking at pictures.

He'd known they wouldn't even consider looking up here; only Nate knew about it, for one, and they would all assume it would be too hot. Even Nate didn't know it was air conditioned. There was even a mini fridge. He'd bought some food on the way home from the hospital and stuffed it inside; it would only last for a few more days. It didn't matter; this whole thing would be over by then. He hoped, at least.

He'd taken the time to find all of the albums in the basement, knowing they wouldn't come looking at his house for at least a day. It had taken a while to dig through all of the crap that had accumulated down there, but he found them in the end. They were labeled by year; some of the older ones were written in what he assumed was his mother's handwriting. His fingers traced the letters now as the book sat in his lap, unopened.

He couldn't remember the last time he had actually looked at a picture of her - really looked. He took a breath and opened it.

The first picture was of his mother- long, long before he was born, by the looks of it. She couldn't have been more than sixteen in the photo, with braces and bushy brown hair that blew out past he shoulders. Her eyes were green, for the most part, but he thought he could see some brown around the edges. She was grinning, her smile silver and pink.

He touched his finger to her face, trying to find himself in her. The hair was a wash; his father's hair was the same color. He had his father's eyes, nose, cheekbones, hands, and would probably have his build when he got to middle age. He even had his father's teeth - no braces on his side of the family. Her lips were different, too. He sighed, and turned the page.

The next picture was of his father - probably around the same age as his mom. He was average looking; nothing really remarkable about him - brown hair and eyes, medium nose, average facial structure. Though Andy shared most of his features, they didn't look anything alike.

The next pictures were of their wedding - these had been taken by a professional photographer. There was a big cake, lots of people, and flowers - the usual. There were several of his mother and father together, smiling. They looked so happy there, and Andy wondered when it had all gone so wrong for them.




The Dirty Pleasures Incident Ch. 12



Andy set his books on his desk, glad not to be carrying them anymore. He was lucky; the bookstore had been open late tonight. He'd been putting off going over there for weeks, hoping to find he didn't need one or more of them. He'd ended up needing all of them, and had assignments due in the next few days that he hadn't even started on. He sighed. This week was going to be a blast, wasn't it?

He tossed his bag onto the floor, collapsing onto his bed. He tugged off his shoes, throwing them into a corner, and pulled out his drawing pad, sitting against his headboard. As he began to sketch, he looked up at his wall, where the sketch he had completed at Jon's cabin hung. He sighed again.

It was ridiculous, really - he'd been the one to end it. As much as he loved Jon, he knew how badly things would have turned out if they'd stayed together. Look how much trouble he'd caused everyone already - Jon's life had been perfect before Andy had come along with all of his drama and destroyed it. Andy's eyes began to sting, and he tossed the notebook aside, staring at his closet door and wondering why everything always had to be so damned difficult. He wiped his eyes, sniffling.

The door opened, and Andy quickly turned to face the wall, going silent.

"You okay?" Quinn asked, locking the door. Andy heard his backpack hit the floor.

"Yeah, I'm cool," Andy said, wiping his face again before turning around. "How was Regionals?"

"Great," he said, jumping onto his own bed. "We lost, but it was still amazing."

Andy smiled. Quinn seemed to always think every experience was great, no matter the outcome.

"Did you clean?" Quinn asked, pulling off his shirt. "This place smells like Febreze."

"Yeah," Andy said, averting his gaze. His cock had been disobeying his mind lately; every male he saw made his pulse quicken. "I was bored, and getting nowhere with Bubble Spinner."

Quinn pulled on his pajama bottoms and climbed into bed. "You're pretty much the best roommate ever," he said, reaching for his lamp. "My last roomie used to leave used condoms on the nightstand. You're like, a godsend."

Andy chuckled, turning his lamp off, too. "'Night," he said.

"Night."

Andy lay there in the dark, staring into the void. He should be feeling at least a little better, shouldn't he? It had been two and a half months (well, 11 weeks to be exact, but who was counting?) and Thanksgiving was in two weeks. He should be past the whole wish-Jon-was-here-with-me-tonight thing, shouldn't he? Wasn't that how things were supposed to go when you broke up with someone you weren't meant to be with?

The tears threatened again, but this time Andy let them come; what was the point of resisting, anyway? He could pretend during the day to be busy with art and guitar lessons and class, but they were only a little comfort; most of the time, he just felt empty and alone, a state he hadn't experienced since before they'd met. Had Jon really taken so much of him when they'd split?

He wondered if Jon felt the same way. Was he feeling down, too? Did he want to see Andy again? Was he lonely? Depressed? Angry?

Jon had just always seemed fine when they were together, but now that they were apart, what would he do? See other people? Andy felt a horrible tug in his belly at this thought. He didn't know what he'd do if he found out that Jon had moved on so quickly.

Andy wondered what he was doing right then. Maybe getting ready for bed. Stripping off his shirt, pants; getting in the shower. The hot shower. Naked.

Andy exhaled as memories of their lovemaking returned to him. He blinked and shook his head when he felt his cock start to rise. He turned on his side, hoping the change in position would help clear his head. When he had calmed down a little, he looked out his window at the gray clouds that looked white against the dark sky. Was Jon out there, somewhere, looking at the sky, too?

After rolling is eyes at his thoughts, he closed them, and drifted away.

*****

Jon tossed the bottle into the corner of his room. He didn't hear it crash, so he'd assumed it had landed on a pile of clothes.

He'd rolled over onto it when he'd started awake from yet another nightmare. It was the one where he stood still as the people around him screamed in agony as they melted. His favorite. No wonder he hadn't been able to get it up the night before. Who could, looking forward to dreams like that? At least he didn't wake up kicking and screaming anymore.

He looked to his right, and a redheaded woman lay next to him. He couldn't remember her name, but it was something like Sheila. Or Shelly. He had fingered her until she came, then she'd fallen asleep, thank god. It was bad enough he couldn't make it happen with any guys; the last thing he needed was to have to explain impotence to a drunken bro-hoe.

Partying was something he'd skipped in high school; he'd never even wanted to. Now, he wondered how anyone got along without tequila and dancing; it was the only thing keeping him from having a complete breakdown. Being alert all the time surely would have sent him over the edge. It was the only way he could forget about the whole memorial incident even for a moment. The only downside was that drinking made him think about Andy. A lot.

He would start off the day resolute not to think about him, heading off to class with broken glass sliding around in his skull. Then, he'd see brown hair, or a green striped shirt just like Andy had, or freckles, or fucking checkered Vans like Andy's, and he'd have to fight tears.

That would lead to more thoughts about the little asshole, like when he'd held him after his house burned down, or after they'd finished making love. And before he knew it, he was walking around in a hung-over-love-sick stupor, wondering everything from what Andy was thinking to how often he jacked off. He'd head out for the night, trying to escape the pain, get trashed, head home for a three-peat of the whole Marie Kerr Park thing, and wake up to start the whole lovely process again.

His grades were teetering on the brink of utter destruction; only pain pills and prayer were responsible for his passing grades. He was going to have to work out a new strategy for next semester; maybe he should find a hobby. Photography, maybe.

Jon sighed, then growled, jumping up out of bed. He tumbled right down onto the floor, and after the world stopped spinning, he stood, much more slowly. He stepped on something that made a squeaky sound. He giggled drunkenly, and stumbled over to his desk.

He opened his laptop, glad when it didn't ask for his password, instead opening straight into his profile. He couldn't have remembered the password, anyway. He opened Firefox, and signed into his email account. Andy's address was still stored. He giggled at that, and then tears stung at the back of his eyes. His hands shook for a moment, then steadied. He began his message, giggling every now and again.

*****

Andy fought his way out of deep sleep as his phone vibrated ceaselessly on the bed underneath him. He had lain still for a while, hoping whatever was alerting would stop, but after eight minutes, it became pretty clear that he was going to have to turn it off. He rolled onto his back holding his phone above his face as the backlight came on, revealing that he had sixty-two new text messages from a single sender. They had come from an email address, and an unfamiliar one at that - it wasn't stored in his contacts. As he went to open one, another was received.