The Professionals Circuit Archive - Anniversary: An Old Friends Sequel  
    Anniversary: An Old Friends Sequel

 

by DVS 

 
 "He's not coming, Bodie."

 Bodie frowned, but glanced at the clock on the wall. "Early yet."

 "We've been here more than an hour and he hasn't shown up. He's not going
to, Bodie."

 "He will." Bodie said it, but Doyle noticed a certain lack of conviction
and moved to reinforce his position.

 "Look, I agreed to come here with you--on the first day off I've had in a
fortnight--because you didn't want to come to a gay bar alone. You didn't
want to have to fend them off all night. I've done my duty, Bodie."

 "Don't go!" Bodie said, reaching out to take hold of Doyle's arm as if
the other man were going to bolt immediately.

 "Why not?"

 "And leave me to these vultures?"

 "What's Macklin spent all that time on you for, if you can't defend
yourself?" Doyle picked up his pint and stared into it for a moment before
taking a last drink. If he didn't go now, then Bodie would order another
one, and he'd have to drink it, and would be here another half hour or
more. The prospect didn't appeal to him.

 "Don't mention Macklin. I can imagine what he'd say if he saw us now! Go
on about it forever, he would. 3.7 and 4.5 in a gay bar." Bodie made the
prediction after another quick glance around the place.

 "Drink up, Bodie, and let's go. There's still time for a movie."
Something. Anything to get out of here.

 "Cobrinson said it was big. Really big. What are you going to say to
Cowley if...." Bodie stopped because Doyle waved him silent, conceding
defeat. He watched as his partner set the glass down with a thump and
ordered another for each of them. He understood why Doyle was edgy. This
place got to him, too. He just wasn't used to being eyed that way.
Weighed, measured, undressed and invited--by masculine eyes.

 "Look," Bodie said, "I understand how you...."

 "I doubt it," Doyle snapped. He wasn't looking at Bodie, but kept his
eyes on the glass the barman was filling for him, as if that were the only
thing in the room which interested him. Anything rather than look over to
the table where two rather familiar men sat.

 "Look, I do. He'll be here soon, has to!" Bodie did rather sound as if he
were trying to convince himself. He added, "Stay close, mate. Not only is
the bloke in the dress staring at me, but so are those two at the table."

 It would be rather stupid to try to convince a CI5 man that he was
mistaken about being under surveillance. Bodie knew when someone was
keeping a more-than-casual eye on him.

 "You're a looker, Bodie--and you're with me. Broke a few hearts tonight,
haven't we, sweetheart?"

 As he thought it would, that caused Bodie to grin. Doyle took a swallow
of his new drink and looked away. Yeah, Bodie was the best looking man in
the room tonight, and he was with Doyle. Dream come true, wasn't it?
Except that Bodie was as straight as straw.

 Doyle, who had put aside a certain aspect of himself several years ago,
was being sorely tried. He had managed, with only partial success, to
ignore his partner's attractions during the years they had been partnered.
By keeping a steady stream of young women in his life, by getting his end
away at every opportunity, even if he was only lightly attracted to the
woman, he had focused on the present and ignored the past.

 Hard to do when your past--or at least two fine representatives of
it--were seated only a few feet away. Hard not to remember how he had
first experimented with Al, how they had been bolder and more inventive
every night, until Al had picked his cherry one Saturday morning in that
dreary bedsit they had been sharing. Memory of that moment came to him, as
sharp as if it had been yesterday.

 And strangest of all, that Al should be seated with Dave. Dave, his last
fling with a man. He'd thought, when he became a policeman, that he would
be able to juggle the two parts of his life, to bed both men and women, as
he had been doing for a few years. Safe enough, maybe, if he kept it to
one night stands. But then, Dave had been so...good. Friendly, nice, good
in bed, and Doyle had lingered, going back once, and then again, and
again, until he had realized that a choice had to be made. To continue
with Dave or break it off hadn't been the only decision. He had to decide
if he could go on dividing his evenings between men and women. To decide
what career he wanted and what he was willing to do to get and keep it.

 Reluctantly, he had picked the 'right' way, had said good-bye to Dave and
become blatantly heterosexual. Funny how, when he had joined CI5, George
Cowley had told him he would have to cut back on his social life. Cowley
had told him, when he couldn't give the surname of the woman he had last
bedded, that he expected a more responsible answer from an agent of CI5.

 So, Doyle had been more discriminating in regards to his partners, got to
know them better and even, once, considered marrying one of them. It had
been Anne's boy-slim body, her coolness--and her love of sodomy--which had
lured him. Doyle rather liked the back door approach to sex, and
Anne--Anne was one of the few women he had ever bedded who actually seemed
to prefer it. Of course, that was partly because she had a fear of
pregnancy, he had decided, but he preferred to avoid that risk himself.

 But she hadn't liked oral sex of any type, and their other interests had
diverged. He'd been blind to their problems as he had indulged in a
practice which hadn't been available for several years. Eventually,
however, he had realized that there were major flaws with the
relationship, and it would have died a slower death if she had not killed
it rather suddenly in another way.

 Too, she hadn't been able to deliver the one thing a man could get in a
gay relationship which was hard to get anywhere else. Anne had seemed put
off by the idea of using a dildo up Ray's arse, and had only done it once.
Heaven knows why, she liked it up hers well enough. Doyle had never had
that before, to be inside a woman while something vibrated inside her
other orifice. Damnedest sensation, drove him wild--and Anne as well.
There had been no one after Anne who had been as adventurous, as....

 "...if you think so," Bodie said.

 "'Cuse me?" Doyle came out of his memory to realize Bodie was speaking to
him.

 "I said let's stay until midnight and then we can go."

 Doyle consulted his watch. An hour? "Boooodie," he began to complain, and
then he decided it didn't matter. All that mattered was, he needed a pee.
"Okay," he said. Bodie's smile of relief was huge, and Doyle was glad he'd
agreed. Best mate, after all. "I've got to pee. You man the fort."

 Bodie's arm reached out. "You'd leave me here alone?"

 "If you come with me, who will watch for your grass? Don't worry about
it, Bodie. If someone comes on to you, just give them a polite no and say
you're waiting for a jealous boyfriend."

 "Not worried for yourself?" Bodie asked. "I hear the gent's is fraught
with peril in a place like this."

 "I'll hit them with my handbag, Bodie."

 "Maybe they won't touch. Just take a good look at what you have," Bodie
suggested. The idea actually seemed to upset him.

 "The jealousy won't kill them, Bodie." With a wink, he was gone.

 Bodie was left by himself to look out over the room. It was a fairly
quiet place. About a third of the men were in couples, the others were
engaged in quiet mating rituals. Buying drinks, chatting, flirting. There
was a juke box, and several men clustered around it, smoking and laughing.

 The man dressed in women's clothing was gone, he noted. Good. The very
idea of a man dressing up like that caused him to shiver. The two men at
the table were talking, heads together, and then they glanced his way. To
his consternation, they too got up and went towards the loo, taking their
bottle of champagne.

 Bodie was instantly uneasy. His imagination, working overtime ever since
they arrived, now went into over-drive. He imagined them attacking Ray,
hitting him over the head with the bottle and then...he swallowed, hard,
able to think of several things which might happen to an unconscious man
in such circumstances.

 Ray, raped. Bent over the sink. On the floor. Two men, both of them
taking a turn. His jaw clenched, and he looked over at the closed door.
What stupid fears. There'd be sounds of a struggle if they jumped Ray. Ray
was always careful. Ray would come out any minute....

 Inside, Ray had used the urinal and was washing his hands when Daisy came
out of the stall. She at once moved up to stand beside him.

 "Hello, sailor," she said, batting her eyelashes at him in a way both
artfully camp and sincerely flattering. "I'm Daisy. Haven't seen your
handsome face about." She leaned closer. "How would you like to be sucked
off?" she said, in a lower, more masculine voice. She said, almost at
once, "I'm not on the game, you know. Just indulging in a little hobby."

 "Sorry," Doyle said, and not because he wasn't tempted. Actually, he was.
Thinking of Anne and the past had him a little excited, and even a quick
blow job here had a modicum of attraction for him. "I'm taken."

 "Yes, I've seen. He's a silly boy, isn't he? The jealous type. I've seen
the way he looks around, as if he expects someone to leap up and snatch
you away at any moment." Daisy looked him up and down, adding, "Not that I
blame him, petal. You're worth it, I'm sure."

 The door opened and two more men came in. Daisy looked them over, noting
who it was and that they weren't available, and reluctantly, she left. The
room was too small now, with all those big brutes in it.

 "Ray!" Al reached forward to shake Doyle's hand, and Dave took it next.

 "Al. Dave. I thought it was you, out there. Are you two together?" Doyle
asked, looking from one to the other.

 "Five years," Al said eyes on his lover. Dave was younger than he was,
handsome, to his eyes, and he couldn't help a bit of possessive pride.

 "Uh, did you..." Doyle began, but then couldn't decide exactly what to
say.

 "Know that we'd both had you?" Dave winked.

 "And lost you?"' Al added. "Yes. In fact, every year on our anniversary,
we toast your name," he said, and he lifted up the champagne. "To Ray
Doyle. The first thing we ever had in common."

 Doyle laughed. Al took a sip of the bottle, passed it to Dave, who took a
sip, and who passed it to Doyle, who nodded at each of them and tipped his
head back for a hearty swig.

 "So," said Al as Doyle handed the bottle back. "Tell us about the new
boyfriend."

 "Yes," Dave added. "What's he have that we didn't? Besides lovely
muscles, legs to die for, azure eyes and the face that launched a thousand
ships?"

 Doyle laughed again, delighted in that description of Bodie. Too bad he
couldn't share it with him. His partner had a vain streak. Doyle also
realized he had to be careful here, had to give just the right information
to keep everyone out of trouble.

 "We're here waiting for someone," he began.

 "Work?" Al asked, his voice low even though there was no one to hear.

 "Yeah. And...my partner's straight and doesn't know about my wild and
misspent youth." He looked from one to the other, his concern showing that
he hoped they'd keep his secrets.

 "I'm sorry, Ray!" Dave said. "Must be like having your nose to the bakery
window!"

 "Rather," Doyle confessed. Then he added, in a voice suddenly fiercely
intent, "I'm bloody jealous of the pair of you, you know."

 The idea that Ray Doyle could be jealous of them caused the other two men
to stare at him.

 "Nine to five and a real lover to come home to at night," Doyle said, "is
better than I have. Than I'll ever have." He'd been so sure, all those
years ago, that he'd made the right decision, but now the sacrifices
seemed bigger.

 In sympathy, Al reached forward and gathered Ray to him, and Dave joined
in a three-way hug. It was warm, the sort traded by friends, and yet he
was very aware of both bodies. He remembered how the thick hair on Al's
chest made swirling patterns, and the mole under Dave's left nipple that
sometimes fooled you into taking the wrong nub into your teeth.

 Behind them, the door opened, but none of them was aware of it until a
hard voice demanded, "Get your hands off him." It was Bodie, one hand
forward as he dropped into a fighter's stance. His face was black with
anger, his eyes narrow, his teeth showing.

 Al and Dave sprang back, startled, and Ray turned. "Don't get your
knickers in a twist, Bodie," he said mildly. "I'd like you to meet a
couple of old friends. Al here is one of the worst painters to ever pick
up a brush," Doyle teased, "and this is Dave."

 Bodie didn't acknowledge the introduction except to narrow his eyes even
more, but gave Doyle an odd look and then abruptly turned and stomped out.

 "Ooooh," Dave said, cattily, but then at once added sincerely, "I'm
sorry, Ray."

 "For what? He's the one with the bad manners." Ray was looking at the
closed door as if he could see through it. "Besides, this was all his
idea. Still, I suppose I should go."

 "Here," Dave had pulled a scrap of paper from his pocket and the short
yellow stub of a pencil. "Here's our number. Give us a call some time," he
said as he passed the bit of paper over.

 Doyle tucked it away and nodded. He turned to go, but then stopped and
came back quickly. He grabbed Al and plastered a short but enthusiastic
kiss on his lips, and then gave Dave one as well. "I'll call," he
promised, and strode out the door.

 "I'd love to be a fly on the wall tonight," Al said. Since he was there,
he decided to use the urinal. Beside him, Dave took another sip from the
bottle. The champagne was almost gone. Still, that meant they could go
home, and the real celebration could begin. He handed the bottle to his
lover and moved up to the urinal himself. For a few moments, the two
streams of urine mingled, and then Dave was left to finish on his own.

 "Let's go home," Dave suggested, his voice husky.

 "Yes," Al agreed, and drained the last of the wine. They left, lifting a
hand to the men at the bar. Only one of them waved back. The door closed
behind them.

 "Good friends of yours, are they?" Bodie asked, taking his nose out of
his fresh beer.

 Doyle shrugged. "Old friends. Haven't seen either of them in years."

 "Uh-huh." Bodie managed to get all sorts of meanings into two syllables.

 Bodie's attitude annoyed Doyle, but he kept his temper. "Just old
friends, Bodie."

 "Yeah. The kind you meet in a gay bar?"

 "Doesn't mean anything, does it? You and I are in a gay bar, together,
and it doesn't mean anything at all." Doyle's beer arrived and he took a
deep drink. "Except," he added, "that you have unreliable grasses with
kinky tastes. Bet he didn't want to meet with us at all. With our luck,
he's outside with a movie camera, recording how two CI5 agents spent all
night drinking in a gay bar."

 Bodie went a bit pale. "It's not like that!"

 "Together," Doyle went on. "Two careers on the line." Wouldn't that be
one for the books. Shopped for doing what he hadn't dared really do!

 "We're on the job!"

 Doyle straightened, took another deep drink, and let the glass hit the
wood of the bar with a deep thunk. "I'm not. I'm going home." Or he could
go out. Find a woman to take the edge off. What he really needed was
Daisy, he decided, with a grim smile. A woman to the undiscerning eye, and
a man underneath.

 "We were going to stay until midnight," Bodie protested.

 "It's close enough. He's well over an hour late, Bodie. Goodbye."

 "We came in my car," Bodie reminded him.

 "Don't worry. I can find my way home."

 "And leave me, the only straight bloke in the place?" Bodie tried to joke
him out of it, while moving to block Doyle's exit by standing between
Doyle and the door.

 All at once, Doyle had enough of it. Of everything. He wanted to shock
Bodie, he wanted to get out, he wanted....

 "I've got news for you, Bodie. You always *were* the only straight bloke
in the place." With that, he turned and strode out.

 Behind him, Bodie dropped his glass. It shattered when it hit the floor,
making a big noise and a bit of a mess. Bodie's head came up. He threw a
bill at the barman to cover the damage and dashed out after his partner.

 It was a foggy night, damp with the moisture in the air, and the lights
took on strange white auras, while the shadows darkened. Doyle was nowhere
to be seen. A quick check up the alley, street, and Bodie headed for his
car. Starting it, he drove quickly around the block, then expanded his
area of search to two blocks.

 Bodie's heart was pounding, his teeth clenched, and for the first time in
years he abused the clutch terribly as he miscalculated shifting the
gears. There! There was Doyle, striding along, head down, hands in his
pockets. Bodie slowed, rolled down the window.

 "Ray!"

 His partner did not even look up, and increased his pace.

 "Ray! Get in!" Bodie opened the door on the passenger side and slowed
more to match the speed of the other. "Ray! If you don't get in, I'm
taking this matter to Cowley in the morning!"

 Ray stopped. He seemed to look off into the distance for a long moment,
and then he turned and slowly approached the car. "Are you threatening me,
Mr Bodie?" The tone was cool, remote. "Since I know a few of your secrets,
shall we trade enough of them to get us *both* fired?"

 Bodie said, "Get in. I need to talk to you."

 A car had come up behind, and the horn sounded impatiently. Doyle
shrugged and climbed in. Bodie drove off quickly, keeping the speed up as
if to make sure that Doyle couldn't change his mind and leap from the
moving car.

 "Your grass is going to be disappointed," was all Ray said.

 Bodie just drove.

 "That was my turn."

 Bodie didn't make any attempt to backtrack.

 "Bodie." Doyle's tone said he didn't want to argue or have to deal with
silences and nonsense. "If you don't want to take me home, then let me
out."

 "My place. We'll talk."

 "Nothing much to say, is there?"

 "You did pretty much say it all, didn't you? You're gay!"

 "I never said that."

 Bodie turned his head, shocked into the response. "You said...."

 "I'm bisexual, Bodie. I can go to bed with anyone I fancy, male or
female."

 "And which do you like best?" Bodie demanded.

 "It's the person, Bodie. Not the sex."

 "I've seen you with girls!"

 "So? And you haven't seen me with men, because I'm not stupid, Bodie.
I'll protect my arse--so to speak--when it's necessary. You don't have to
worry about me causing you problems on the job. I haven't even been with a
man in years."

 "Years?"

 "About five."

 "When you joined CI5."

 Doyle agreed in a tired voice, "Yeah, Bodie. When I joined CI5."

 "So you're really more straight than gay."

 "How do you figure that?"

 Bodie said, "Could you leave sex alone completely for five years?"

 "Probably not. Why?"

 "You had to give up one or the other, and you chose to give up men."
Bodie seemed proud of his logic, but it wasn't up to his usual standard.

 "No, Bodie. I had a choice of half of everything, or everything--not
either, or. And if I could have picked only one to keep, it would have
been the men, not the women."

 "Why!" Bodie seemed shocked.

 Doyle shrugged. "I'm not sure. A back fuck isn't the same as a front
fuck, so women give you two choices there. But a woman can't fuck *me*
unless she uses a dildo, and they're just not the same."

 Bodie wasn't unaffected by this frankness, Doyle noticed. The man's hands
were turning white on the steering wheel.

 "You let men fuck you?"

 "No, Bodie, I *begged* them to fuck me. It can be nice. And sometimes I
fucked them. That's good, too. I'll tell you what the difference is," he
said, as if just discovering it. "You run into more cooperation with gay
men. Fewer professional virgins, and it costs less as well. If I'm in the
mood to get my cock sucked, a man will usually do it, but a woman--you
never know if it's going to be one of the things she just doesn't care to
do. Women are more fastidious."

 Bodie had nothing to say to that.

 "On the other hand, I once went to bed with a woman who sat on me while
she had a vibrating dildo up her arse, and one up mine. It was one of the
most wonderful orgasms of my life," he said, reverently.

 Bodie had not yet spoken. Doyle remembered the bragging sessions Bodie
occasionally started, the things he had said he had done with women. He
wondered if Bodie was silent because he had finally been bested in that
area. Maybe. He let his lips turned up. Typical, that. Ray Doyle beats
Bodie at something and he can't even brag about it to anyone else!

 "I never had a 'best' man," Doyle went on. "Had some good at giving head,
some with nice arses, some who could fuck like a dream--but I never found
it all in one package." He thought about it for a moment and said, "Just
as well. It's harder to settle down with a man. Probably break my heart if
I found one that good."

 "I don't understand." Bodie did sound upset. Rather lost.

 "What's so hard to understand? It feels *good*, Bodie. So I do it."

 "It can't feel that good."

 "You'll never know," Doyle pointed out.

 "Right," Bodie said.

 Beside him, Doyle's ears pricked up. Bodie had not replied with his
characteristic certainty. Bodie had, for just a tiny fraction of an
instant--hesitated.

 Doyle didn't give away, by any movement or look, that he knew Bodie
hadn't reacted as expected. "Can't see you being that adventurous," Doyle
said, deliberately choosing words he knew would set small barbs in Bodie's
I'm-better-than-anybody ego.

 "Adventurous? Is that what you call it?" Bodie mocked.

 "It takes guts to be gay, Bodie. To be different. To go with what you
like rather than what others insist you *ought* to like."

 "To let a man fuck you?" Bodie asked, somewhat nastily.

 "Yeah." Doyle picked up the challenge, flinging the word back with the
same energy. "I've got what it takes and you don't."

 "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard you say--and you've said some
stupid things," Bodie informed him.

 "Look, I haven't had a man in years and won't as long as I'm in CI5. You
don't have to worry about me embarrassing you in any way. You're the one
who dragged *me* to a gay bar tonight, Bodie! So just let it drop. Pretend
you never found out. I'll continue to steal your birds, and the only
difference is, it will rankle a bit more, now."

 "You'd like to think so," Bodie replied.

 "And I won't go to any more gay bars with you. If your grass wants to
meet you, it will have to be somewhere else."

 Bodie made a sound which might have been agreement. Doyle waited a moment
and asked, "Are you going to tell Cowley?"

 There was a long silence, and then a sigh. "No."

 "Thanks."

 They drove in silence for a bit.

 "Will you ask for a new partner?" Doyle spoke again, quietly.

 "No!" Emphatically. Interesting. A tiny flame of hope sparked in Doyle's
heart.

 "Thanks," Doyle said again. Bodie drove on, and Doyle was content to wait
and see what would happen. They would talk tonight, and would resolve
nothing, but.... Doyle knew he was going to take the opportunity to sow
tiny seeds. Ideas. The more Bodie talked about it, the more comfortable he
would be with the subject. Bodie's curiosity would cause him to ask
questions, and Doyle would answer them. Oh, he'd answer them. And maybe
one day, Bodie, competitive, inventive, try-anything-once Bodie, would be
tempted. Maybe he'd try something new. With his partner, a friend he could
trust with an experiment of that type.

 Maybe, one day, Doyle would be on his hands and knees with Bodie's big
cock up his arse. He shook his head at the silly dream. Still....

 If it ever happened, Doyle decided, he would send a case of champagne to
Dave and Al. He noted the date, sure he would never forget it. This would
be the day W.A.P. Bodie first considered going to bed with Raymond Doyle.
He'd work the conversation around so that Bodie couldn't help but at least
think of the idea. As for the rest, Doyle could wait. Wait until Bodie got
used to the idea, wait until Bodie was the one who proposed they give it a
try. Yeah. He could wait.

 Mentally, he lifted a glass. To old friends.

 Thanks.

 -- THE END --

 *Originally published in *Old Friends*, Chained-to-the-Typewriter-Press,
c.1994*

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