Page 383 - Some Dance to Remember

Some Dance to Remember 353

fuck, one last time together. What was it Peggy Ann Garner had said in
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn? “The last time of anything has the poignancy
of Death itself.”
In the airport parking deck, Kick was surprised. “Where’s the
Corvette?”
“I felt like driving my own car,” Ryan said. It was an independent act
he was already regretting in the face of Kick’s disappointment.
“Your car’s fine,” Kick said.
“A Rabbit hardly compares to a Corvette.” Ryan stepped on the rebel-
lion surging in his heart.
“I don’t care what we drive as long as it gets us back fast to your bed.
I haven’t had sex with anybody but myself for two weeks. My balls ache.”
“I thought you might be too tired.”
“Me tired? I may have a little jet lag tomorrow, but I’m Mr. San
Francisco tonight.” He waved a small snifter of coke. They blew a couple
of lines.
Ryan had readied the bedroom. He had washed the mirrors, turned
back the bed, and set the track lights on low. Everything looked as it had
always looked.
Kick was pleased. “I love you, madman,” he said. “Come sit over here
by me.” Kick rose and slowly began stripping himself naked under the
track light, checking himself out in the mirrors. “How do you like our
new Look?”
“I love it.” Ryan hated himself. “It’s a wonderful Look. How can I
help...but love you more than ever.”
Kick raised his arms in a double-biceps shot. “Come on over,” he said.
“I want you to feel these arms.” He dropped one arm and pulled Ryan’s
head into his rampant armpit. Ryan breathed the sweat like a man drown-
ing. They moved through familiar paces. Double-bicep pose. Front-lat
spread. Heavy-duty Most Muscular. Out of the cold airport fluorescence,
under the hot bedroom track light, Ryan felt better about Kick’s added
size if not about its cause. Maybe the muscle was worth the gamble. Maybe
I’m a schmuck. They shared a hit of popper. His tongue ran across the thick
hair of Kick’s pecs. Ryan’s tits stood at hard attention under Kick’s finger-
tips. Everything was right. Ryan was determined. If this was possibly their
last fuck, it was going to be a fuck to remember. He took his own hard-on
in one hand and gently pushed it between Kick’s thighs.
“Break, break,” Kick said. “Let’s take a break.” Sweat poured from his
face. His dirty-blond hair was streaked with sweat. “Whoa!” Kick said.
“I forgot what a workout this can be.” He ran his hand down the rippled

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