Page 76 - Leather Blues

64 Jack Fritscher

“You talk too much.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Den planned to keep the man quiet. The last thing he
wanted was to relate personally. They had found each other
on one level and in Denny’s mind were contracted to stay
there. Den was intent on keeping that mouth closed if he
had to sew the fucker’s lips together. He was out to impress
Chuck that he could supply a manslave for them both. In
fact, he was thinking more and more in terms of Chuck.
Now with their to-be shared M riding on the back of his
bike Den felt eager to show Chuck both his bedroll and his
masochist. Always there would be M’s. But the bedroll was
special. A sign he was free. And Chuck was to be the first
to know.
Den turned off the highway to the tucked-away farm.
The dirt lane had quagged to mire. Far down in the old
house Den saw more figures moving in the cloudy moon-
light than he had expected. He dragged his bike to a halt and
shut it down. His M swung off. Den was pissed. Chuck came
out on the porch to meet him. Thumbs up. “Hey! Check out
the construction worker you brought,” Chuck said.
“Yeah.” Den was petulant. “He’s a real erector set. Very
good at building triangles.”
“Easy, Brother,” Chuck said. Mystified. “I thought you
wanted a three-way.”
Denny realized: I want a two-way. You and me. But he
said, “Yeah. A three-way.”
“Never count your rocks before they’re off,” Chuck said.
“I never count on anything,” Denny lied. He had
counted on being free with Chuck, on them being buddy-
free together. He didn’t like his new feelings. He stomped
the mud from his bike boots on the porch. He guessed he
was expecting too much too fast. Maybe he was a loner and
meant to be. Maybe free was enough. Lone and free. “You’re
high on something,” Den said.

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