The Professionals Circuit Archive - Florida Sunshine	     Florida
Sunshine

 

by DVS

  
 The sun was brilliant, the morning was gorgeous, and Ray Doyle was not
appreciating it much. For one thing, he was not dressed to take full
advantage of the Florida sunshine; winter had already begun in London when
Cowley had thrust them onto a plane bound for the United States with
instructions not to return until they had Andre Coates in custody. They
had permits for their weapons, one small suitcase each and a briefcase of
papers when they arrived, yawning and bored, in Washington, D.C. at
midnight. By dawn they were in Miami accompanied by a phalanx of FBI, CIA
and ghod-knows-what-else.

It had gone as slick as snot. That was the phrase used by one of the FBI
men, and Bodie and Doyle had both memorized it for future use, with Doyle
going so far as to slip it into their report to Cowley. Cowley had not
been amused, but he had been happy with the rest of their account. One
extortionist behind bars and his connections to a certain family had been
severed. Some stolen items had been recovered, as well as some sensitive
papers, and several drug kingpins were in danger of immediate
incarceration, all in the space of four days. He had been so pleased that
he had authorized three days of leave for both of his agents. Bodie had
pointed out to Doyle that it was quite possible that this had something to
do with their boss having plunked down the amount of a week's lodging,
with the expectation of having to pay for as much as a month's worth
before the case was concluded, and then seeing it all wrapped up in one
long weekend. Having Bodie and Doyle still in America taking care of any
last minute details would save trans-Atlantic phone costs as well, and so
he had suggested the two use the rooms.

Now the two CI5 agents basked in what was to them unseasonal sun,
appreciating the mid-morning heat as they sat around the pool. The ocean
was a stone's throw away, there was a light and refreshing breeze and they
had just finished a fruit and pastry brunch of mammoth proportions. They
had 69 hours of holiday before them at a nice, but not top-of-the-line
hotel in a quiet location. They had ended up here only because Coates had
chosen it for his meeting with a Colombian drug lord. If it was an
unlikely place for international intrigue, it was also not quite the sort
of place the CI5 agents would have chosen for relaxation. It tended to
cater to families on vacation and tourists on a moderate budget.

In other words, the place lacked local talent. There were two dozen people
scattered around the pool and at the umbrella shaded tables outside the
hotel restaurant. None of the tables were occupied by anything remotely
resembling a beautiful young woman.

"Want to make an older woman extremely happy?" Bodie asked his companion
with amusement as he noticed the three women at the next table looking
speculatively at the two of them. Nice looking women, actually, even if
the very youngest of them had at least ten years on him. It wasn't that he
was prejudiced against older women, either. Some of his most exciting
times between the sheets had been with well-matured ladies. However, there
was the problem of dividing three by two without awkwardness--the women
were plainly a set--and besides, Doyle was obviously not keen. In fact, he
was half asleep.

"No thanks. All yours," Doyle had mumbled. His eyes were closed and his
face tilted up to catch the sun and he was beautiful. Bodie took the
opportunity to look his fill unnoticed. If Bodie could have had his own
way, he would have whisked his partner back to the hotel room and done
without women entirely. Not that he would dare. Ray Doyle had no inkling
at all that his friend wanted him, and it was best to keep it that way.

That didn't stop Bodie from looking. The morning sun caught the reddish
highlights in Ray's hair, it outlined every inch of his beautiful body,
and Bodie let his imagination free for just a moment. In his mind he knelt
beside Ray and feasted his lips, one hand roaming, exploring, while the
other tangled in those glorious curls and his other hand....

About the time he realized that the fantasy had developed too many hands,
Ray sat up suddenly, his eyes wide with lustful interest.

"'Ello!" Doyle said with enthusiasm. "What have we here?"

Bodie bothered to look, and then straightened his spine a little as well.
The couple who had just walked up and taken the table across the pool from
them were worth a second look. Or a third.

They were both blond, slim and a little above average height. The woman
was perhaps twenty-five, the man, who was undoubtedly her brother, was
younger. They were dressed neatly, both wearing white shorts and colourful
shirts. They were not at all sophisticated, and yet there was a natural
grace to the way they moved.

"Not your usual tourist," Doyle decided, as he catalogued the charms of
the lovely lady. She had crossed her legs and had her nose buried in the
menu which the waiter had handed her. Her brother was watching the
swimmers at the other end of the pool until a word from his sister caused
him to hastily pick the menu up.

"She has nice...." Bodie paused as he considered which of her several fine
points were worthy of his first appreciation.

"She certainly does. Things are suddenly looking up. Although it does
leave us with a problem."

"Oh?" Bodie picked up his drink, still openly studying the pair across the
blue water.

"There is," he pointed out, "only one of her. And two of us. And I should
hate to wrangle over which of us is the more deserving, but you have
Claire back home, while I am currently between birds."

"Wrong."

"Wrong?" Doyle was obviously prepared to argue with him, so Bodie made
haste to clarify his position.

"Wrong, I don't have Claire. She left me for a chance at a lad with money.
At least, I think that's why she gave me my walking papers. It's not too
clear, actually."

"Sorry to hear that, mate, but this one's still mine."

Bodie nodded.

A surprised Doyle almost dropped the cup he had picked up. "When did you
get kicked in the head?"

"Wasn't. You know very well those worms didn't even give us an argument
when we arrested them."

"Mostly because we had a baker's dozen of America's finest behind us.
Still doesn't explain your unexpected generosity. You're not known for it,
are you? So what's up? What do you know that I don't?"

"Quite a bit, Raymond, quite a bit."

"Berk. I mean, why aren't you trying to toss me into the pool so you can
get over there first?" Doyle lifted his cup to his lips again, eyes still
on the subject of their conversation.

"I would never resort to such crude tactics, Doyle. And I notice you
aren't even suggesting letting the young lady make her choice from between
us. Afraid of what her decision might be?" Bodie grinned as he mocked his
friend.

"She looks very compassionate. If she chose you, it would only be for the
sake of pity." Doyle moved back just a fraction as he spoke, as if he was
not entirely sure that Bodie wouldn't retaliate with physical force. "Face
it, Bodie. You know I'm right."

"No, my lad, but I'm willing to go along with you--for the moment." Bodie,
too, kept his eyes on the other two, his handsome face reflecting his
appreciation and speculation.

"Scared of her protector, there, are you?" Doyle made a tiny nod towards
the brother, who had ordered, and who was once again watching the
teenagers swimming in the deep end of the pool. A young man climbed up the
diving board, posed for a moment, either in concentration or to be sure
that the ladies were watching, and then flipped himself off the board in a
practiced, elegant dive.

Bodie said, "Not exactly," and followed the swimmer with his eyes. Nice
build, if a little on the skinny side. Dark tan, dark hair. He checked
again. Both blondes were watching the swimmer as he pulled himself out of
the water and sat on the edge of the pool a few feet from them.

"Come on, Bodie. I know that expression. You have something up your
sleeve!"

"Only my arm. Don't need anything else," Bodie automatically bragged. "The
problem with you, Doyle, is you don't let yourself consider all the
possibilities. You don't let your imagination take over. You don't...."

"I am *not* sharing," Doyle interrupted.

"Didn't expect it of you," Bodie said loftily. "I am perfectly content to
allow you to make your moves on the pretty lady. I shall try my luck with
the beauty to the left of her."

"The brother?" Doyle hooted with laughter, loud enough for the two who
were under discussion to look over at them.

Bodie smiled. "He has everything she does, sunshine. Blond hair, long legs
and eyes as blue as the sky."

"All that, and one extra thing as well! Or did you forget about that?"

"Oh, I didn't forget. Unlike you, I don't see that as a problem." Bodie
smiled again, this time over at the couple. The young lady blushed. The
young man looked down at the table. The waiter chose that moment to
deliver a fruit platter to the two. Bodie watched as the young man picked
up a sliver of melon and slipped it between his lips. "No," he said again,
more softly, "I didn't forget."

"Ha, bloody, ha. We're going to have to get you a new sense of humour,
Bodie. The one you have has become as warped as your brain."

"I'm not joking, Doyle. You knew I had a murky past. I distinctly remember
telling you the high points of it one night when we were both quite drunk.
You didn't get upset then."

"Making do with a comrade or two out in the bush in Africa, that's one
thing. This is something else."

"Offended, are you?"

"Only that you take me for a fool. You can't possibly want
that...that...."

"Man? At least, I hope he is. Wonder what the laws are here. He looks
eighteen, doesn't he?" Bodie leaned forward to see a little better. Doyle
gave him a hearty kick in the calf. "That hurt!"

"Did it?" Doyle remained unmoved. "Good."

"Just because you aren't able to appreciate the lad doesn't mean you
should deprive *me*! Look, Doyle, I thought we'd go over, chat them up
together, but if you find the idea so revolting, let's split up. Meet you
back here in two days?"

"You'd do that?" Doyle hitched over in his chair so that he could look
directly into Bodie's eyes. "You'd really go off on your own with him for
a couple of days?"

"More, if Cowley'd let us stay here a little longer. Hell, Doyle, use your
noggin. Sure, I have a taste for the other side upon occasion, but when
have you seen me give in to the impulse? Never. I'm not stupid. I know
that sort of thing is frowned on, I know it could let me in for blackmail,
other problems. So here I am in a foreign country with a chance of a
lifetime, and you expect me to pass it by?"

"Yes." Doyle shook his head and added, "How do you even know he'd be
interested in what you want to offer? Could get a smashed nose out of the
deal, mate. And then his sister would have nothing to do with me, as well.
Are you trying to ruin it for us both?"

"Oh, he'll be interested." Bodie looked over at the object of his
attention again. "I've been watching him watch the lads in the pool. If he
isn't so inclined, then it's because he hasn't faced the truth in himself
yet. My biggest problem is, it's not me he looks at when he glances over
here. It's you. Quite jealous, I am. I think he likes them slim. I may be
too butch for the lad."

"Butch!"

"Too much a man, Doyle, too much a man."

"Too much an idiot, Bodie, but never mind. Let's wait until they've
finished eating and then play our hand. One of us might get lucky."

Bodie agreed, grinning. Then he turned his eyes back to the couple they
were discussing. The two were in earnest conversation, heads bent forward.
He enjoyed watching them both. Lean, young, beautiful. It had been so long
since he had indulged in that side of his sexuality that he found his
blood heating up at the very thought of what he might have the pleasure of
knowing again. He hadn't had a man for...well, it was before he joined
CI5. He hadn't really wanted anyone since that time. Except for Doyle, and
that was one of the impossible dreams, like winning a lottery or being
left a fortune by an unknown auntie. His partner was definitely not bent.

"Looks like they're just having the fruit. Shall we time it so we pass the
table just as they are getting up?"

"Clever plan, General."

"All of mine are," Doyle said, with artificial modesty. He ignored Bodie's
crude laughter.

"If they each have a room, we're set, but if they're sharing, you can go
to theirs, and I'll take ours," Bodie said, when he finished snickering.

"We should be so lucky. These two are 'nice,' Bodie. Not the sort to just
fall into bed with any stranger."

"Ah, but Doyle, you forget! We have the lure of mystery, the appeal of the
foreign. We have accents. You'd be surprised how many people can be won
over with a few well-chosen, well-accented words!"

Doyle laughed. He knew what Bodie meant. There were certain accents which
intrigued him, and he knew Bodie was fascinated by them, too. Bodie liked
to try to imitate the ones he liked best, he liked to try them out when he
told stories or jokes. The CI5 rest room would be filled with Bodie's
version of an American accent for months after they got back home.

"Look, they're almost done." Doyle watched the young man put a whole
strawberry in his mouth. Was Bodie really attracted? What was it that
caused him to...to *want* the kid? Sure, he was good looking, and in
fairly good shape, but he was no Adonis.

"Ready?" Bodie stood up and waited for his partner to join him. With a
twist of his face, Doyle agreed to it all by standing up and following
Bodie around the edge of the pool.

Bodie's approach was direct. He stopped by the table and said, "Hello!" in
a warm voice. "We're here on a visit and find we've gone away without our
bathing trunks. Would you be able to tell us where we might purchase
some?"

The accent, Doyle noted, was definitely working its magic. The woman was
smiling back at his partner and telling him about the small shops off the
main lobby of the motel. Bodie had been well aware of their existence and
had not planned to go swimming--until now. Bodie was going to be showing
off his body, Doyle decided. And that wasn't such a bad idea, either. He
decided to follow Bodie's lead. Red, he decided. Always wanted a pair of
red ones.

"It's so warm here. Have you been here before? Perhaps you could tell us
about what to see in the area. Be a shame to miss anything," Bodie went
on. She fell for it. She told him about a marine display to the north and
a good beach to the south and discussed how far away it was to the nearest
disco. She introduced herself as Monica Hart and her brother as Michael
and as Bodie drew out the details of her life--the bastard was darn good
at it, Cowley would be proud--Doyle watched Michael watching Bodie and
decided Bodie was right. The younger man was definitely attracted. He
looked at Bodie the way Bodie looked at Swiss rolls.

He was also shy, looking away if Bodie happened to glance his way. His
sister did all of the talking. Doyle, not wanting Bodie to make all of the
running, added his own questions to the conversation, drawing her
attention to him. It was easy to do. She was as beautiful up close as she
was at a distance. He divided his attention between her and listening to
Bodie's technique. He would never admit it, but he admired the way Bodie
operated. Bodie spoke a bit about swimming, then he turned to Michael and
suggested that the sizes were different in England and asked the young man
to go help him pick out the swim wear he wanted. A lift of his eyebrow
asked Doyle if he wanted Bodie to get one for him or if he wanted to get
his own.

"Red," Doyle ordered, and turned his attention back to Monica.

"Red it is, sunshine. Where will you be?" Bodie asked.

"Would you like to take a walk?" Doyle asked Monica, holding out his arm
and giving her his best enticing smile.

"I'd love to. Along the beach?" Monica took his arm, charmed.

"That's where we'll be then," Doyle said, and they walked off together.

"They make a lovely couple, don't they?" Bodie said, watching the two as
they circled the pool and headed down the steps which would take them
towards the ocean.

"They're just the same height," Michael said, watching his sister and her
new friend. "Except, of course, she has on heels. She should have changed
before she went. They may not get far."

Just before the two were out of sight, Doyle's arm slid down to encircle
Monica's waist. He looked worried at that.

Bodie watched him watching them. "Don't worry, lad. He's trustworthy. For
that matter, so am I. Why don't you show me where that shop is?"

"Okay." Michael led the way back into the building, which was almost cold
from air conditioning, and then through the lobby and down a side corridor
to the row of little shops. There was a beauty parlour, a gift shop, a
candy counter and, at the end, a little boutique. The selection wasn't
large, but both Bodie and Doyle were easy to fit. Bodie selected the red
scrap for Doyle almost at once. Then he pretended to be unable to decide
between a black pair and a yellow one, and asked the sales lady if there
was a place to try them on. She was eager to show the handsome customer to
the row of small cubicles in the back. Two minutes later he stepped out
dressed in the yellow one and asked Michael if he thought it was too
small.

Michael's eyes went wide and he swallowed, hard, for Bodie had left off
his shirt for maximum effect. If he had any doubts before, he had none
now. The look on Michael's face was one of awe and appreciation, with
honest lust hidden as well as the poor young man could manage. Bodie took
pity on him and retired to change into the black pair, well aware that
they would be even more flattering to him.

"What do you think?" Bodie turned around, letting Michael get another
eyeful. Macklin had managed to insure that both Bodie and Doyle came to
this country in fighting trim--which meant Bodie's body was at its best.
He flaunted it now, standing with hips thrust forward so that his genitals
were outlined to best effect.

"The black is...get the black," Michael said, his voice just a little
rough.

"I think so, too," Bodie said. He adjusted the fabric over one hip,
keeping Michael's eyes focused below the waist. "I'll get these, then. Be
with you in a minute." He retreated to change back, and through the slats
of the door, watched Michael. The young American had a slight swelling at
his groin, a way of wetting his lips nervously, and he was tapping his
foot in time to the piped in music. Bodie grinned to himself. This
seduction was going to be good, he could tell already. The kid was going
to fall into his arms, panting for it.

So it was time to put the cards on the table. "Let's go for a walk, too,"
Bodie said. "How about across the road and up the hill? I like to see
where I am, sometimes. Get an idea about the lay of the land."

"I.... Yes. Sure." Michael smiled and fell into step on Bodie's left.

"Let me just leave this," Bodie tossed the package up into the air and
caught it with careless grace, "in the room."

"Okay."

"So. How old are you, Michael?" Bodie was careful not to make it sound
anything other than casual.

"I'm twenty." The younger man looked a bit embarrassed. "I know I look a
little younger. At least, I think so. I've been wondering if I ought to
grow a moustache."

"You look fine without it. Some people don't like kissing a bloke with a
toothbrush under his nose," Bodie said. He was one of them. Wasn't too
fond of beards, either.

"But I need to look older!" Michael insisted.

"Maybe. You'll get there soon enough," Bodie assured him.

"How old are you?" Michael asked.

"Thirty one going on one hundred, love. Doyle's two years older than I am,
and how about your sister?" Bodie had reached the door to 210 and was
unlocking it.

"She's twenty three. But her birthday's next week. She's pretty old for
her age." Michael hesitated, then followed Bodie into the room, which was
a carbon copy of his own on the floor below.

"Why?" Bodie tossed the package down and then pulled off his polo. This
was no weather for high necked shirts, and no one was likely to see them
on their little hike. He had on a white T-shirt. He felt naked enough
without his gun, so why not strip down a little more and give the
youngster something to occupy his mind?

"Why?" Michael asked.

"Why is she mature for her age. It usually comes with adversity, you know.
Or pain."

"She's had both. Only...." Michael paused.

"Only you don't want to talk about it with a stranger?" Bodie waved the
younger man out of the room and locked up behind. "I can understand that.
That's one of the things I'd like to talk about. Let's wait until we're
out in the fresh air," Bodie suggested. He led the way down the metal
steps and across the parking lot. The hill had a road winding up it, a
tree shaded road which divided a small cluster of trailer houses from
fancier neighbours up slope. Bodie didn't speak again until they were in
the shade.

"I wanted to talk to you about getting to know you better," Bodie began.
"In fact, to be honest, I want to get to know you quite well." He turned
his head so that he could see Michael, judge his response. When it was
obvious that the other had not picked up his meaning, he went on. "I want
to get to know you the way Doyle is getting to know your sister. I want,"
he paused, and decided to say it straight out. "I want to make love to
you. I want to take you to bed."

He thought, for just a few seconds, that he had made a mistake. A big one.
Michael had gone white, then red, and he turned away.

"Did I guess wrong?" Bodie asked, stopping as well and trying to see the
other man's face. "From the way you were watching the swimmers this
morning, I gathered that you might like the idea."

"How.... I.... If you...." Michael gave up on all of those beginnings and
took a deep breath. "What you want is...." He swallowed and found that his
courage and his words had failed him.

"Don't worry about it. I'm not one of your chains and leather boys. Not
that I don't have an inventive nature. I'm not looking for the heavy
scene. I've got to go home in a few days, don't I? I just want a bit of
fun--and I can make it good for you as well."

"I c...can't," the young man stammered, looking away, looking anywhere
except at Bodie. "I...."

"So I did guess wrong," Bodie said, not believing it for a moment.

"No. No, only I...I never...have." Red blush crept up the fair skin of the
blond as he made that confession. Bodie looked up and down the road, and
then drew Michael into the deep shadows of the trees.

"Are you trying to tell me you're a virgin?" Bodie whispered into the soft
hair as he wrapped an arm around the broad shoulders.

"You know I am," came the soft answer.

"I know what to do about that, sweet Michael," Bodie whispered, his hand
trailing down the bare arm. "I know exactly what to do."

"I'm not sure." Even as he said those words, Michael was turning his face
towards the Englishman. He had to tilt his head only a fraction to bring
his trembling lips within kissing distance. Bodie leaned the required few
inches and placed his lips on Michael's.

One part of Bodie's mind was thinking that Michael was just the height of
Doyle, and wondering if it would be like this to kiss his partner. A
separate section of his mind delighted in the untutored response of the
American. Most of his thoughts were the boil of sexual anticipation. It
had been so long since he had a man. Yet he knew he must go slowly.
Gently, he took his mouth away.

"Do you know now what you want?" Bodie asked.

Michael nodded.

"Good. Is it me?"

Michael nodded again.

"Are you sharing a room with your sister?" Bodie straightened up and moved
out of the shadows as he spoke. The other followed him slowly.

"Yes."

"Then my next question is, is your sister the sort of woman who can be
talked into bed by a handsome stranger? Not *me*," he said as Michael
looked at him suddenly. "I mean Doyle, of course."

"I don't know. She's...she's shy, a little. I don't know if she ever...if
she...."

A grin formed on Bodie's lips. So it was virgin duty for Doyle as well?
That struck his sense of humour and he chuckled. "Doyle can take care of
that. If she wants him to." He glanced around. There were no cars, no
people within his view. "Let's climb up to the top and work up an
appetite," he suggested, taking hold of Michael's hand and giving it a
pull before letting go.

"Okay."

"We can talk, get to know each other. For example, why are you on holiday
in Florida in November?"

"It's a long story," Michael said, and perhaps he meant he did not want to
go into it, but he did not know Bodie, who liked to get all the facts.

"Go back to the beginning. 'I was born...' and all that."

"It starts just about that long ago," Michael confessed. "Clear back when
my father married my mother. She died when I was eight. Dad didn't do so
well after that. He was hard to get along with."

That was clearly an understatement. "He beat you?" Bodie asked.

"And other things. He finally had a kind of a breakdown and had to be
hospitalized. Monica and I were put in separate foster homes. I didn't see
her much after a few years. She had good foster parents. So did I, for
that matter, but it was still hard. Then, last month, Dad died. Monica and
I hadn't seen either for over a year. We found out there was a trust fund
for us which we got either when we were 25 or when Dad died. So...well, we
didn't really know what to do to celebrate. We know what we'll do with the
money. We both want to go to school. Monica wants to be a lawyer. I'm
working at a furniture store, in shipping. Some sales, when the floor gets
busy. I take night classes. Monica is a legal secretary. We...we decided
to take a vacation here because we both remember Mother talking about
going to Florida some day."

"You wanted to take a holiday, just to talk?" Bodie asked quietly.

"Yes. It's been strange, getting to know my own sister. We had so much in
common, but we didn't know each other at all." Michael looked up. "I told
her about me, on the way down. I talked about what I wanted in life, she
talked about what she wanted. I said I wanted to meet a man. She won't be
surprised when.... I mean, I think she won't mind. I...uh, I'm talking too
much about us. What about you? What do you do?"

Bodie trotted out the old 'civil servants' story, and his best tale about
having met President Carter once. It was perfectly true, if edited
somewhat. By the time it was all told, they were back at the hotel.

"Shall we go find Doyle and your sister?" Bodie asked. The mild exercise
had Bodie's blood going--or maybe it was the blond. He wanted to get into
his new swimsuit, and he wanted to see Doyle in that little red number as
well. As a bonus, Mike and Monica would look fantastic on a beach wearing
almost nothing. Monica and Ray were not hard to find, for Monica's
footwear had proved treacherous and they were sitting on a tumble of rock
within sight of the motel. As soon as Bodie and Michael came up, Bodie
suggested a swim and all of them went back to change. They parted at the
door, promising to meet there in half an hour.

"How's the chat up progressing?" Bodie asked as he stripped down. He was
past master at getting an eyeful of Doyle's best assets while pretending
that his attention was on his own disrobing. Doyle, naked, was the stuff
of wet dreams, of the most delightful fantasy. Doyle in the tiny shred of
red stretch fabric which Bodie had bought for him was almost as
marvellous.

"Could you have bought one a little smaller?" Doyle asked, half amused,
half exasperated, as he pulled it on. His genitals were outlined clearly,
and his arse as well. He had dark hair arrowing down to the waistband,
which drew the eye. Bodie had to work hard not to let more than his eyes
be drawn.

"Did you a favour, mate. Keep her interested, mate."

"She's interested," Doyle said with a snort.

"Looking for a cherry-picker, is she?" Bodie asked, with a wink.

"What made you say that!" Doyle straightened abruptly.

"Something her brother said."

"He is?"

"What, a virgin? Yes. Interested in me? Yes."

"Berk. She's...?"

"They've been raised apart, so he probably doesn't know. Does she seem
interested?" Bodie, dressed now in his new black suit, stretched and then
settled himself more firmly within the fabric.

"We've only just talked, Bodie! But she's flirting, a bit. Do you know how
mad I'm going to be if you score and I don't?" Ray put his hands on his
hips and glared at his partner.

"Worried? A little raver like you?" Bodie laughed.

"I feel naked," Doyle complained as they collected hotel towels.

"Almost are," Bodie said, cheerfully.

"I mean without my gun and ID."

"Know what you mean," Bodie admitted. "But it's as safe here as back home.
Safer."

Doyle made an inelegant sound and held up the room key. "And where are we
going to keep *this*?"

"We give it to Monica, of course. She'll carry some sort of bag. Women
always do, even to the beach."

"Too bad she can't hold our shooters, then, isn't it?" Doyle paused. "One
more thing."

"What?"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that your easily burned lily white
skin I see so much of?"

"So we take along a couple of dollars and get some stuff at the gift
shop." Bodie flicked his towel at Doyle, glad on one level that Doyle was
thinking of him, that Doyle had at least looked at him. On another level,
he wondered if the comment about seeing so much skin was criticism of his
weight.

He fell back a pace as they left the room. Walking behind Doyle was a
pleasure almost any time, but at this moment it had even more allure. He
managed, after they met Monica and Michael, to linger behind just enough
to appreciate the sight of two fine masculine arses, one on either side of
Monica's delightful, rounder one. They kept calling him to catch up,
teasing him, calling him a slowpoke and a laggard, and he just laughed and
claimed he was enjoying the fresh air.

Which he was. On the beach, they found a place to spread out the towels,
and Monica rubbed the sun tan oil first on Bodie, then Doyle, and finally,
her brother. They all joined in on returning the favour for her, causing
her to giggle and shriek with delight. They lazed in the sun, talked, fell
silent, dozed, and then went down to the water.

Same ocean, Bodie thought, but it was so different here. Different colour,
different sand, different feel. Tasted the same. They had a good time
swimming and chasing each other. Like returning to childhood, Bodie
thought as he scrubbed his face with his towel and watched the other three
gather up their scattered possessions. It had been a good afternoon, and
he had almost completely managed to forget that he was a CI5 agent.
Almost.

He did take a look inside Monica's bag when he put in his sun tan oil.
Nothing there, no hidden guns or knives. Once, there had been screams up
the beach which had brought he and Doyle to their feet, but that had
proved to be only a beach umbrella which had collapsed onto its owner.

"I have an idea," Doyle said. "Why don't we take your motor," he said to
Monica, "and Bodie and I will buy you the best supper we can find. After
that we can go find a disco. Do you dance?" He turned that last question
to Monica.

"Yes. I love it!" She turned to Michael, who nodded enthusiastically, and
then she said, "But we don't have anything really fancy with us, so it
can't be too posh."

"We don't either," Doyle told her. Basic black suits and casual wear, and
little in between. "Let's make it informal." He hated wearing ties.

"Let's ask at the desk where a good place would be," Michael suggested. He
was looking at Bodie in a slightly questioning manner, though.

Bodie winked, and as the other two walked ahead, he leaned down and
whispered in the younger man's ear.

"I'll teach you a few tricks!" Bodie said, and then he glanced around,
made sure no one was watching and pinched the blond's butt, just hard
enough so that he had to fight back a shout.

"Bastard," Michael said, using just the words and tone that Doyle had used
when Bodie had caused Doyle to lose his balance and fall into the water
earlier.

"Not I. Knew my mum quite well, and she assured me it wasn't so."

This caused Michael to laugh, and Doyle looked behind him and called for
them to hurry up.

Back in their room Bodie managed to get to the shower first, but made a
quick job of it and let Doyle have the shower while he shaved again. He
was running his hand along his jaw, checking the job, when Doyle stepped
out of the shower.

Michael. Bodie made an effort to think about Michael, not Ray's water
slick body. Thank ghod there was Michael, and that he was interested,
because Bodie needed a nice long session between the sheets soon.

"Guess what I forgot to get when I got the sun tan oil?" Bodie said as he
followed Doyle out into the room. Doyle, who was bent over his luggage,
made a sound to indicate he was listening, even though his attention was
clearly on something else.

"French letters."

Doyle came up laughing. "What, afraid you'll make him pregnant?"

"Your worry, mate. I always use them. Learned in Africa how many diseases
there are out there. Besides, you could wrap your socks in them, along
with anything else you wanted to keep dry. Matches, for example."

"Fresh ones, or did you keep the used ones?" Doyle wanted to know.

Bodie threw a pillow at him.

"Suppose they have them down at that little over-priced shop, or do we
need to make a special stop?" Bodie speculated. He had been dressing as he
spoke. "Guess I'll go see if I can pick up a box," he added as he tied his
last shoe lace. "Shall I get one for you?"

"A whole box, just for you?" Doyle asked, grinning. "Think a lot of your
abilities, don't you?"

Bodie pretended modesty, then had to laugh. "There's two of us, mate. Only
one of you. Monica can't return the favour!"

Doyle sobered. "You'd really let him do that to you?"

"If he wants. Because I certainly want to do it to him! Besides, it has
its charms," Bodie told him, checking his wallet. The foreign money looked
strange mixed in with good old British pounds.

"Being buggered?" Doyle snorted his disbelief.

"Don't knock it until you've tried it. Best time I ever had in bed was
when I was nineteen and a mate and I went to a whorehouse in Hong Kong. I
was just sliding into this lovely lady, when my mate hit the target from
behind, pushed me right into her, while he filled me up to his balls. Most
incredible sensation I ever had, getting it from both sides like that."

Doyle repeated his snort. He didn't believe half of the things Bodie told
him.

"Every word true. I'll get a box for you, then." Bodie ducked out the
door. The little shop did have all that he needed, although the elderly
lady behind the counter frowned as she rang up the KY, the condoms, the
cough drops. Her expression cleared as he said a polite thank you as he
scooped up his purchases. He could almost hear her thoughts. She wasn't
sure what he wanted it all for, but without a doubt it was for no good
reason. He was from another country and that added to her suspicions.

Back in the room, Doyle was dressed and ready to go. He looked wonderful.
In contrast to Bodie's basic black, Doyle wore white trousers and a new
green shirt Bodie had never seen before. Not quite the colour of his eyes.
Greener. Looked magnificent. Bodie had to swallow hard before he could
speak.

"Take what you want," Bodie said, dumping the lot onto the bed.

"Colours?" Doyle raised an eyebrow. "Naughty boy."

"Too right. I want the black ones. Don't remember ever having those
before."

Doyle put on a superior air. "Just makes it grey. Only looks black in the
box. I want pink and yellow. And green." He scooped up three. "Give the
lady a choice."

"Ah, but if she had her choice," Bodie said, sadly shaking his head,
"she'd pick me, and you'd be all alone tonight."

"You wish. You're just jealous because I have the sister and you have the
brother!" Doyle was tucking his prizes away in his wallet as he spoke.
Bodie stashed a few in his as well, and put the rest of his purchases in
the top drawer of the dresser.

"Are you ready?" Bodie asked, patiently, not deigning to reply to the
accusation.

"Yes. Lead on."

Bodie went first, for once, and he wondered if Doyle was studying his
partner's backside as he followed him out of the room. Not bloody likely.

Down at the desk, Doyle was leaning on the counter, chatting with the
pretty lady who was on duty.

Bodie let Doyle ask about restaurants and discos, while he sat in one of
the comfortable chairs in the lobby and looked at the local paper. Nothing
of interest caught his eye--until he looked up and saw Michael and Monica
coming towards him. He drew in a deep breath. They looked great.

Monica was in a vibrant blue dress which hugged her curves, and Michael
was wearing a red shirt over dark pants. Bodie scrambled to his feet and
whistled. Monica grinned, but as Bodie was looking at Michael, that young
man knew that it was not only his sister who had Bodie's approval. Michael
blushed.

Doyle joined them, and they went out to the car, with Monica driving and
Doyle beside her, and the other two in the back seat. It was, it turned
out, Monica's car. Bodie made a comment about the traffic being on the
wrong side of the street as they started off, and that turned the
conversation to the differences between their countries, a subject which
lasted until they reached the restaurant. The food was good. So was the
company. The sun was almost down as they finished, and they headed for the
disco.

"Find yourself a nice girl to dance with," Bodie whispered into Michael's
ear as they settled into the back seat for the drive. "I'll find one as
well. We'll dance. Not too close to each other. I want to look at you when
you dance. I want to see you move. You," he said softly, "will look at me.
Won't you." It wasn't a question. It was a demand. Michael inhaled
sharply. "Maybe I'll dance with your sister, too, but it will be you I'm
thinking about," Bodie promised. Michael. And Ray Doyle. But why tell the
kid that?

"Later, we'll sit a few out in the quietest corner we can find, while
Doyle gets it all out of his system. Likes to dance, Ray does. And maybe
we won't stay out too late?"

Michael was blushing again. Doyle was looking back at them, openly trying
to hear what Bodie was saying, but Bodie grinned at him and made sure his
curiosity went unsatisfied.

The disco was rather unsophisticated, and not what Bodie and Doyle had
been used to, but the music was loud and the crowd a cheerful one. They
drank a lot of cheap booze and danced, and generally had a good time,
leaving just after eleven. Early--unless you had other plans for the
evening.

Doyle drove because Monica had gone giggly. She curled up next to him and
the two in the back seat could hear her saying soft things to Doyle, but
could not make out the exact words. In the back seat, Bodie boldly slid an
arm around Michael and pulled him close. The night slid by outside the
windows, and Bodie tried to remember how long it had been since he had
been in the back with nothing to worry about except if it was too soon to
make his move.

It wasn't. Very hesitantly, Michael had wormed his arm around Bodie's
waist. The warmth of Michael came through the cloth, and he could sense
under the shirt the dampness of sweat and he could smell the scent of Old
Spice and masculinity. Turning his head, he nuzzled the exposed neck,
pulling Michael close. Under his hands he could feel the heart rate
accelerate, the breath come more quickly. Bodie accidentally brushed one
of Michael's ribs in a way that caused the younger man to begin to laugh,
which he stifled at once with a glance up front towards his sister.

"Shy?" Bodie whispered.

"Don't want her jealous," Michael whispered back.

"Or Doyle, either," Bodie whispered, knowing Michael would like to hear
that. Bodie wanted Doyle as jealous as hell, and sadly, he knew Doyle
wasn't, would never be.

It was a twenty minute drive back to the hotel, and for the first part of
it, Bodie explored the sweet secrets of his new lover. Although he kept
his hands on the top of the clothing, he still enjoyed touching, teasing.
He went from the neck to the broad chest with its tiny pointed nipples,
and from there to the waist band and then lower. Michael copied as well as
he could, and things were just getting interesting when Doyle pulled into
the parking lot--unfortunately under a bright street lamp.

As they untangled themselves and climbed out, Bodie's eyes caught Doyle's
and asked a question. Doyle's predatory grin told Bodie where Doyle would
be spending the night.

"I'll see you for breakfast," he told his partner, and then turned away so
that he wouldn't see his friend go off with the lovely Monica. He had his
own night to plan. Michael was nervous as he followed the Englishman up
the stairs. Bodie could hear his breathing, hard and short, behind him.
Bodie turned the key in the lock and stepped aside to let Michael in.

Bodie couldn't help himself, he had to do a check of the room, corners and
windows and bath and locks, before he could turn to the puzzled blond.

"Seen too many American movies," Bodie explained, grinning, and Michael
grinned back. Bodie reached out a hand and hooked a finger in Michael's
shirt, pulling him forward gently. "Gangsters everywhere, according to the
telly."

"It's not like that," Michael said, looking down at Bodie's finger.

"Sweet lad," Bodie said. "You have on too many clothes."

"Do I?" Michael lifted his hands and started to unbutton his shirt.

"So do I," Bodie pointed out, pulling his shirt loose and tugging it off
over his head. When he looked up, his young friend was staring openly and
had paused, hands on the last button. Michael swallowed, hard.

"Second thoughts?" Bodie asked. It would be just his luck!

"No.... No! Just a...admiring." Michael recovered himself and finished his
task, tossing his own shirt aside. His chest was as hairless as Bodie's,
but not so broad. It was, however, slightly pink from their afternoon in
the sun. Bodie kept his eye on Michael as they stripped. The kid was well
worth looking at.

He obviously thought the same of Bodie.

"Like that?" Bodie laughed, seeing where Michael was staring.

"Yes," Michael answered frankly.

"Then...." Bodie moved forward, "Let's see what we can do with it." His
big hand caught the back of Michael's head, drawing it forward. Lips met
lips. It was fierce and short. Bodie drew back. "Lights on or off?"

"Off."

Bodie broke away long enough to turn off the light, and then he led the
young man to the bed and began his education. It was wonderful. A willing,
loving partner was something he never stopped appreciating. Kisses,
touches, bolder and bolder, until Bodie was kneeling beside the bed,
leaning over the supine young man, sucking on his cock while the youth
twitched and kicked and moaned and finally thrust up and came like a new
volcano.

Bodie swallowed, eyes closed, remembering steaming nights and Shanner and
Edwards and the kid from South Africa who never gave anyone his name.
Remembering kind hands, pulling on him, and other hands, not so kind,
trying to take what he didn't want to offer. It had been years. Seven? Or
eight? It didn't matter. All that mattered was that the best of it could
be his, again. He groaned aloud once or twice, and he kept his eyes closed
as Michael explored him, touched him, loved him, and when the lad stopped,
Bodie at last opened his eyes and asked for the same thing he had given
Michael.

And Michael nodded his head and bent over Bodie and took the straining,
weeping flesh into his warm red mouth.

It was all of heaven and all of hell, because it felt good, so good, and
with his eyes closed it was ever so easy to imagine it was Doyle who was
so kind, and Bodie forced himself to open his eyes and watch the bobbing
head of the man who was learning with every touch of hand and mouth.
Watching was exciting, too, and Bodie thrust up and gave a fortnight's
savings into Michael's keeping. Michael, who was a natural at this kind of
loving, swallowed and sighed and collapsed beside Bodie in a panting heap.

They both must have slept, because when he finally moved, Bodie caught
sight of the glowing hands of the hotel clock. It said 3:05.

"Bodie?" A tentative word, a searching hand. Bodie caught it, kissed it
and pulled Michael over on top of him, his legs spreading to give the
other a comfortable place.

"What, sweets?" Bodie's hand swept the warm sides.

"Are we going to...."

"We are. But not now. At dawn. If you really want it."

"I want it. I've dreamed about it and worried about it and...."

Bodie kissed him, deeply. Kisses weren't part of his memories, were not
part of the jungle and yet Bodie wanted kisses and took them. Michael gave
them back with growing skill. The shyness he had at the beginning of the
evening was being lost in growing ardour, in strokes and caresses that he
practiced over and over.

They didn't talk, but lay in the dark and touched, and Michael slept
again, but Bodie lay on his back and was glad he was leaving in a few
days. There was the potential for disaster here. It would be so easy to
fall into a relationship with Michael. Get into the habit of finding his
way to Michael's bed whenever he had an evening free. Bodie was grateful
for the ocean between them, because it would be easy to break the kid's
heart, too. Or his own.

At dawn, Michael's hand fell onto his shoulder, and only memory kept Bodie
from twisting, fighting. Memory and an ache in his belly which wasn't
hunger.

They touched, basic, simple stroking and rubbing, and Bodie, knowing the
younger man was a bit quick on the trigger, pulled the KY out of the
drawer and showed the lad where to put it. There was a lot to be said for
youthful enthusiasm, he thought as he felt the blunt nudge of the
circumcised cock. He relaxed, taking it in. It hurt. Been a bloody long
time, Bodie remembered. Too long, maybe. It hurt. Not a lot. Enough to
wilt his own desire, enough to cause him to clench his teeth and set his
jaw.

He didn't let it show on his face, and he didn't let Michael know. Just
let it happen, let the young passion beat itself out against the resilient
walls of his rectum while he sighed for dark russet hair and wicked green
eyes. It was over too quickly, and Bodie savoured the feeling of his sore
anus as he rolled over and began the leisurely process of making Michael's
body ready for the same treatment. A long time with restless fingers, a
long gentle time of in and out and playing and probing. He put Michael
over, onto his knees, for the first time. Arm hooked over waist, he held
the American steady, and then he murmured kind words into the blond hair
and began the British invasion.

Michael cried out, and Bodie stopped.

"You'll bring the bloody coppers, luv, if you can't keep mum. Shall I pull
out? Too much?"

"Hurts!"

"Has to. Don't think of the pain. There's pleasure underneath the pain.
Find that." As Bodie spoke, he was fondling the half erect flesh of his
partner, rolling, thumbing, pulling until he felt it rise a little, lift
and fill. "Better?" He made a small move, pulling a bit out, pushing in
again.

"Yeah." It was a laboured reply, but a definite one, and Bodie went ahead
because he had delayed as long as he could. Need drove him, and he let
himself go.

In one way, it was like making love to a woman; he was used to making love
to someone who did not happen to be the real focus of his passion. It was
still good, bringing back so many memories that he felt swamped in his
mind, lost in them. The release, when it came freed both his body from the
passion and his mind from the memories. It all poured out of him with a
silent roar that left his head ringing and his lungs working overtime to
get enough air.

He had the strength to pull out of the lax body and fall beside it. Bodie
drifted off to sleep again, and only the ringing of the telephone by the
bedside woke him up again.

"3.7," he said groggily, only remembering a second too late that he was
not alone.

"Berk. Do you want to go eat with Monica and me?" Doyle asked, without
identifying himself.

"What time is it?" Bodie asked, peering at the clock even as he asked the
question.

"Gone ten, sleepy-head." There was a voice in the background. Doyle turned
back to the phone and said, "Monica and I are going down to the pool for
brunch. Will we see your smiling faces?"

"Eventually," Bodie said, and hung up. He met Michael's shy gaze, grinned,
and reached down to tweak the young man's penis. "What do you say?
Breakfast, or shall we have another go?"

Michael seriously considered it, while Bodie, whose stomach had suddenly
come awake, groaned to himself. He hoped he could rise to the occasion,
should the other decide he wanted another tumble in the sheets.

He was in luck, Michael was starving, and with flattering reluctance
confessed that he needed food. They got up, took turns in the shower, and
then separated, Bodie to make some phone calls and Michael to go to his
room for fresh clothing.

After calling several of the agencies they had worked with during the week
and learning that there had been few changes over the last 24 hours, Bodie
next spent almost half an hour on the phone to London. Things were much
more lively there, and Bodie almost, but not quite, volunteered to cut
their holiday short and come home right away. He wasn't that stupid. It
had been months since they had some proper time off.

Bodie blessed the time differences which insured that Cowley was not in
the office to suggest they hop a plane immediately, and he decided then
and there to spend the day away from the hotel, and the telephone. He put
the finishing touches on his hair and went down to the too-long postponed
meal.

All three were there, and Doyle had ordered for him, so that only seconds
after he sat down, a well-filled plate was placed before him. Bodie said
his thanks to Doyle, but his attention was on Michael, who was positively
animated this morning. Most of the meal was given over to a discussion of
what to do that day. Monica wanted to go up the coast to some shops,
Michael wanted the beach, and so the party split up after deciding to
return at six for dinner.

Bodie was back in the small black trunks and on the beach enjoying the hot
sun only a few minutes after Monica and Ray drove north. After a lively
swim, they settled down on the warm sand. The beach was not deserted, but
it was a weekday, and the crowds were nothing like they would be on
Saturday. They had a small nook behind a sea-worn tumble of rock where
they were cut off from the rest of the people, and so they could turn the
mutual application of the sun lotion into a sensual and drawn out
experience. Then they stretched out on the towels and drowsed, trading
lazy words as the impulse moved them.

"I'm glad it was you," Michael said, eventually.

Bodie didn't pretend to misunderstand. "Always glad to be of service,
mate." His head was still buried in his arms. He wanted enough of a tan to
make the lads back home green with envy.

"We were heading down to Key West. Still are, I guess. I hear it's a
place...where there are a lot of men like us."

Bodie lifted his head a bit. "Oh?" he asked. "Devastatingly handsome, are
they?"

Michael grinned and nodded. "And gay. I was going to see what was there.
Monica wanted to see all the historical places. I just wanted to...to...."

"Get laid."

"Hell, I was hoping just to get touched. Or a blow job. I'm glad I learned
it from you, though." Michael hiked himself up on one elbow to look down
at Bodie.

"From a tall, dark stranger?" Bodie asked.

"From somebody who's looking to share, not to, y'know. Dominate."

"Not your scene?" Bodie asked.

"I don't think so."

"Like to be on top?" Bodie asked.

"Yes. I liked it the other way around, too."

"It's a world of tops and bottoms out there, old son. You might have to
state a preference at some point. Not everybody's as thoughtful as me. Do
I have to tell you to be careful?"

"No."

"Good. Learn karate." With that advice Bodie stretched and yawned.

Michael laughed, not realizing Bodie was serious.

"Bodie? Why do you answer the phone with a number?"

The switch of topic left Bodie silent a few seconds too long. "That's the
way we do it in England," he lied.

"Bodie! That's not even a good lie," Michael complained.

"Oh? Truth is, I'm James Bond's illegitimate younger brother." Bodie was
wary, wondering where this was going.

"Right," the young man said shortly. "Won't you tell me?" Michael asked.

"Nothing to tell."

"That means you don't want to tell me much about you. When you leave, you
won't want to stay in touch," Michael decided.

"Why should we? I'm not likely to come back. Only a fluke the job sent me
here this time. Best to keep it a golden memory and move on." Bodie hoped
to hell he was convincing the kid. He'd had this happen with some of the
birds he'd dated. Felt funny having this conversation with a bloke. "Be
different if we were in the same country."

Bodie remembered that an international arms conference was scheduled for
Washington, D.C. in the spring. He just might have to go along. He just
might be in the country again. But why mention it? Why try to keep this
affair going?

"Bodie?" Michael had something on his mind, and Bodie was determined to
beat him to the punch. Bodie did not approve of anyone who was so clumsy
with an affair that they broke hearts.

"Look, sweets, I'm going to make your introduction to this evil practice
as fantastic as I can, both for your benefit and mine. I want to look back
on this time with absolute awe. But not with regret. Not wondering what
might have been. I'm going to show you heaven tonight. I'm going to suck
your balls, and fuck your mouth and show you a few tricks you never even
heard of, and the day after that, I'm going home. That's the way it is.
It's enough, Mike. I know I'm a hard act to follow," he said, with a grin
and a leer, "but it will break your feller's heart if he thinks you're
pining for a bit of British arse."

"I don't have a feller," Michael reminded him.

"Oh, you will. Tasty thing like you? Bound to, eventually. Unless you just
like variety."

"Do you?" Michael asked.

"Me? With the birds, yes." Bodie decided to end this conversation the best
way he knew how. "We're talking too much. I need a beer and a bonk."

"A what?"

"A beer."

"No," Michael protested. "The other."

"More or less what we had this morning. Interested?" Bodie asked as he
stood up.

"Yes," Michael said, scrambling up with flattering speed. They went up to
Bodie's room, showered, went to the bar for a beer, which Bodie found cold
and insipid and Michael found liberating. Then they retired to Bodie's bed
for three hours of love.

Bodie was walking stiffly when he dressed for their evening meal. It was
only a little bit of satisfaction that Michael was as well. Been too long
since he'd had something up there, and Michael wasn't a small lad. Came of
trying to pack too much loving into a couple of days. Or pack too much
cock up a small arse. Michael was fun, though, so eager to try everything.

But he wasn't Doyle. Reminders of this came every so often. Having to
explain a joke took the fun out of it in short order. 'Bonk,' for example.
Doyle would have known at once what was on offer. Which didn't mean that
he and Michael weren't communicating well on another level. Too well.

Bodie was remembering how much he liked it, wondering how he could go back
to the ladies and put all of this behind him. Wondering if he dared to
find a little on the side and what he would do when Cowley found out about
it.

Not if. When.

He stopped worrying about it when they went down to the lounge for a drink
and to wait for Monica and Ray. They were late. Half an hour after six
they breezed in, windblown and laughing. After a bit of settling down and
another drink it was decided to go out for pizza. This time, Michael drove
and Monica and Doyle chatted in the back seat, playing teasing games with
their hands and feet. Bodie, past master of deceptions of all kinds,
didn't let it show that it bothered him. He just enjoyed the scenery and
breeze on his face from the open window and fiddled with the radio, trying
to find a station he liked.

The pizza was good and they lingered over it and a pitcher of beer. They
were in the midst of a college crowd celebrating the arrival of Friday
night, and it was a lively bunch. They played video games and spent a good
deal of time just having fun. Bodie loved it, loved the times when he
could forget the job and just let go. Monica called it "being a goof" and
teased him about it, and Bodie could tell that with just a little effort,
she could be induced to give him a little of what Doyle had enjoyed last
night. Bodie found it hard to come up with the interest; Monica's brother
had made sure he was fucked out that afternoon. The kid would be lucky to
get more than a kiss tonight.

But Bodie knew, as he watched Doyle bend over a balky pong game in the
corner, that if Doyle had been the one to ask him to bed, he'd manage to
get it up for him in an instant. They could write songs about Doyle's
buttocks, Bodie decided. Poetry. Nothing on earth was more provocative.
Alluring.

Bodie decided that Michael might be lucky tonight after all. Watching Ray
Doyle was having a profound effect on his hormones.

They went back to the hotel, Ray and Monica giggling in the back seat
again, to Bodie's secret annoyance. After deciding to go to their own
rooms to collect clothing for the morning, the group split up. Monica and
her brother went off, leaving Bodie and Doyle alone together for the first
time that day.

"So you got his cherry, did you?' Doyle asked as soon as they were alone.

"A gentleman never kisses and tells, Doyle. Didn't you know that?"

"You're no gentleman. Never were," Doyle informed him.

Bodie grinned. "I shall only say that the problem is satisfactorily taken
care of--and he'll never forget it, either!" With a confiding expression
he leaned forward. "How about it then? Is the lovely Monica without hers
as well?"

Doyle grinned over his shoulder at Bodie as he entered their room.

"The lovely Monica hasn't had the item under discussion for years. One of
her foster brothers lured her into bed straight off. He seems to have
battered her heart a bit. She thought it was love, but it was just
convenience on his part. She's had a few lovers since then, too. One of
the reasons she's on this trip is that the man she's been dating has been
making hints about wedding bells. She's trying to see if she wants to
marry him."

"By hitting the sack with the first bloke who happens along? Or is she
trying out a man at every stop?" Bodie asked.

"And you say I have a nasty tongue. Nothing on you, mate. She's a nice
girl." Doyle was pulling clothing out of the drawer. Bodie admired the
view.

"I didn't say she wasn't."

"Sour grapes. You'd rather have had her than the brother. Admit it." Doyle
straightened to make that accusation.

"Can't. It would be a lie. I am having the time of my life. Wondering if I
can stand to give it up, in fact. Might have to find me a young man at
home, for those nights the birds aren't coming across."

"That'd be stupid," Doyle said.

Bodie already knew that. "Ah, well. Maybe I'll just buy me one of those
vibrators that were on sale in that catalogue Anson was passing around the
rest room last month. Came in three sizes, it did."

"Fool. I should know by now when you're having me on." Doyle changed the
subject. "You called this morning. Nothing on?"

"The locals are still interrogating the scum we scooped up here. They
don't think they'll need anything else from us after all. Couple of the
hard boys aren't so hard. Singing like canaries. I called HQ. Myerson
escaped from his kidnappers, and he led them to the place he was held
before they even knew he was gone. Nabbed the whole lot. Wish I could have
been there. Almost. Susan was on duty, said the old man might send for us
tomorrow. Better take advantage of this last night, mate. We might be busy
once we're home."

Doyle made a sound of annoyance. He, too, had wanted to be in on getting
the men who had killed one of their own agents. But those men would be in
CI5 custody for quite a long time. They would have their chance.

"If this is the last night, I guess I'll make the most of it," Doyle said,
gathering up all he had collected and putting it into the bag the
swimsuits had come in.

"You do that," Bodie said, and watched his partner let himself out.

Michael arrived soon afterwards. They lounged on the bed, watching TV,
touching, occasionally talking. When they went to bed, they were lazy,
playing at it. Bodie showed his young lover a trick with a shoe lace, and
one with a cough drop, and they ended with a lazy 69 and a long, hot
shower. They were asleep before midnight.

Bodie woke at dawn. He pulled on his running togs and let himself out into
the cool dawn. He fancied a long run up the beach. He was not at all
surprised when Doyle joined him a few minutes later as he was doing a few
warm up exercises down by the water. It wasn't only that they were on the
same wavelength, but that they both knew they had been lazy for several
days. He'd seen the track suit in the clothing Doyle had pulled out the
night before. It was all a matter of being observant.

And of wanting to be with Ray, even if all they were doing was a five mile
run. They started off. The air was sweet, the sea birds were calling, and
it was a fine morning. They started off slowly, careful of their footing,
pacing each other. Running on the sand was a bit harder than running on
turf and it was different enough to keep them alert. Eventually, without a
word being exchanged, they increased their speed. All at once, Doyle
sprinted ahead, running fast and free. Bodie could not help himself, he
put on a burst of speed as well, chasing his partner, who was as elusive
in this as in all things. Bodie only caught up to him because Doyle slowed
down.

They rounded a lifeguard station and headed back, slowly now, building
endurance. Hearts thudding, lungs working hard, they let their bodies
recover from their race until they were back to normal. Both men knew when
to slow down even more, when to stop. They continued along the beach,
walking, enjoying the morning.

"What are you going to do today?" Bodie asked when their hotel came in
sight.

"We'll have to go home today. Just a question of Cowley wanting us soon or
immediately. How long do you think we can put off calling in?" Doyle
asked.

"Not a question of putting it off. He'll call us. Five says it happens
before noon."

Doyle sighed and didn't take the bet. Instead he said, "I'm ready to go
home."

"Tired of the sun, the good food, sleeping in? Or of the delightful
Monica?"

"Monica, if you must know. She's...." He shrugged and did not finish the
sentence.

"She clings a bit, I noticed," Bodie said, lightly.

"How about you? Tired of Michael's charms?" Doyle asked.

"Other way around. Getting too fond of them by far. He's...." Bodie
shrugged as Doyle had, but grinned.

"You like it."

"I like it. Like him. But it doesn't matter. We're going home."

"Cowley will probably be sending us with Allerson to the arms conference.
You could see him again."

"Dangerous to see him again. For both of us." Bodie stopped to pry a wedge
of shell out of the tread of his running shoe.

"For all of us, mate!" Doyle said. At Bodie's inquiring look, he said,
"Guess what Monica wanted to do last night?" He did not wait for an
answer. "She wanted to see what it was like."

"What?" Bodie was intrigued. Doyle was looking out over the blue water. It
was just a shade of grey this morning. Storm coming? Maybe.

"She wanted me to do her from the back. Like you were doing to Michael,
she said. Wanted to know what that was like."

"So did you?" Bodie asked, his interest sharp in his face. Inside, his gut
twisted as his mind supplied images of how that would look.

"I'd never done that before. Told her so." Doyle was still not looking at
Bodie. He stooped down and dug a small shell out of the sand. It was a
delicate pink on the inside, a strong sand colour on the outside, and it
was perfect. He held it in his hand, turning it over and over.

Bodie got impatient and nudged Doyle with his elbow. "But did you?"

"Yes."

Bodie couldn't tell much from that one word. "How did it go? Not an easy
thing to do, is it?"

"She...enjoyed what I did to get her ready. We used plenty of Vaseline. We
used the skins, even though we obviously couldn't get her pregnant that
way. She said she wanted to be sure I didn't have to get anything on me."

Bodie grinned. That sort of thing had never bothered him. He just used
them to avoid disease. He'd had the clap once and that was all he ever
intended to have.

"And?" Bodie encouraged.

"And I got into her, though it took awhile, and we did it."

"Did she like it?" Bodie wanted to know.

"She liked it while she was all hot. I reached under her, made sure she
stayed on the boil while I did it. Afterwards, though, she was sore,
scared she'd hurt something inside because there was a bit of blood. So I
cuddled her close. She liked that."

"And how did you like it?" Bodie asked. He wasn't even allowing himself to
hope.

"Cuddling? Always did," Doyle teased.

"Fool. The other thing!" Bodie used his elbow again, causing Doyle to
dance away and take a mock punch at him.

"It was...different. Tight."

"But did you like it?" Bodie wanted to know.

"I haven't decided yet," Doyle told him.

Bodie was aware of a sense of keen disappointment. Doyle couldn't have
liked it over much. Until that moment, Bodie had not realized he was
hoping that Doyle had loved it, would want it, perhaps even with a man. To
have Doyle, Bodie would even play bottom man. He knew he would always want
more, but he was also fairly sure that if he ever got Doyle to bed, kept
him happy, then eventually Doyle's natural curiosity and sense of fair
play would insure that Doyle would offer his body.

Doyle finally tucked the shell he held into a pocket. "Souvenir," he said,
when Bodie looked at him, eyebrow up.

Bodie nodded. Doyle kept things. Had boxes and boxes of such things which
he hauled from flat to flat. Bodie had helped move them often enough to
have mixed feelings about them.

"Breakfast?" Bodie asked.

"One of your better ideas," Doyle agreed. "Let's wake up the siblings and
have a proper meal."

"Right. Meet you down at the pool in an hour," Bodie said.

"An hour? Running make you horny?" Doyle laughed.

"Last chance, mate. Going to lure him into the shower and have some good
clean fun."

Doyle laughed and they separated as soon as they reached the building. The
air conditioning was on, and it felt cold against Bodie's sweaty body. He
went up to the room, woke Michael with a kiss, and lured him into the
water without difficulty. They used their hands on each other, coming
under the warm spray, pressed tight against the wall and warm human flesh.

"You're packing," Michael realized as he dressed. Bodie had started to put
his things in his suitcase while Michael shaved. Now he stopped to do his
own face.

"Have to go today," Bodie said.

"Guess we will, too," Michael said. "Might as well. Won't be the same
without you here." Frowning, he paused, staring at himself in the mirror.

"Of course not," Bodie said with that kind of superiority which caused
Michael to laugh. He ducked in to shave.

They met Doyle and Monica at the pool, ordered a huge breakfast, and
chatted. Everyone was well aware of the parting. They had to be out of
their rooms by one unless they wanted to pay for another day. By mutual
agreement, they separated after the meal to pack and get ready to go.

Sure enough, the call came from London at ten in the morning. Cowley
wanted them back. It was a working trip, as well. They would be escorting
two prisoners.

Bodie, his one bag in hand, went with Michael to meet Doyle and Monica in
the other room. There was the awkwardness of leave-taking. Doyle and Bodie
helped take Monica and Michael's bags down to the car, and then they all
returned to the room, where there was nothing left to say.

Bodie filled in the silence with an outrageous suggestion.

"Right, now, kisses all around. You first, luv," he said to Monica, and
swept her into a passionate deep kiss. She pretended to protest and then
gave in to his expert mouth. He broke the kiss and set her upright with a
flourish, winking at Doyle, daring him. So Doyle did the same to Michael,
to the young man's very obvious delight. Then Bodie handed Monica back to
Doyle, took hold of Michael and gave him an even more enchanting kiss than
he had presented to the young man's sister. Doyle took Monica in his arms
and made his own farewell.

With firm kindness, Bodie then bustled them all out of the room and down
to the desk for checkout. In fifteen minutes he had the luggage in the car
and, with one last quick caress to Michael's arse, he sent them on their
way. He turned at once to go back to the room and get their bags. It was
Doyle who stood and watched the car until it was out of sight.

******

Doyle was mad. It was a simmering rage, quite unlike his usual quick
temper. He held it in check, but anyone looking closely could have seen it
in his green eyes. He made a point of keeping his gaze on the departing
car so that what he felt would not be plain to his all too astute partner.

Cowley said the state of Florida was sending a car to take them to the
airport where their prisoners would be handed over to them. Bodie and
Doyle had nothing to do but sit around and wait for their transportation
to arrive. It was a nice day. They sat by the pool, soft drinks in hand,
and relaxed. Or rather, Bodie relaxed, leaning back in the chair, letting
the sun hit his face. Still working on the tan with which he planned to
seriously annoy the other members of the squad.

Doyle, glass in hand, watched his partner. Bloody sod. Damn fool. Only
Doyle was not sure which of them he was branding with these names. He
damned Bodie for his unconcern, for stretching out in the sun like some
sleek panther, while Doyle nursed this bubbling pot of anger.

Only it wasn't all anger. It was jealousy, it was impatience, it was
confusion and fear. All hidden, he hoped. It had to stay hidden until he
understood what was going on, until it was clear. Either he was going out
of his mind, or he was changing. In either case he had to wait to find out
if the state was temporary or permanent. No way was he going to open his
mouth before he had it all figured out.

So he sat and brooded while the breeze played with his curls and the pool
filled up with nubile young things of both sexes.

This was where it all started, Doyle said to himself. This is where I
found out that I didn't know Bodie at all. Years of partnership,
friendship, and I never knew he liked boys as well as girls. He'd watched
Bodie with Michael, convinced at first it was all a joke, that at any
minute Bodie would pull out of it, laugh and turn to try to take Monica
away from him. But he had not done that. He had gone off eagerly that
first night, and he'd shown up the next morning with that canary fed look
on his face and that arrogant well satisfied swagger in his walk. Which
wasn't nearly as bad as *this* morning, when he arrived with a way of
walking which suggested to Doyle that his friend had been nailed the night
before.

Snakes coiled in Doyle's intestines at the very thought. Damn him.

Or damn Monica. Monica and her bright ideas. Let's do it like they do it.
Do it up my back door, Ray. I want to know what it feels like for Michael.
She almost always called her younger brother Michael, and only once in
awhile Mike.

So he'd done it. He'd been uncertain about it. This was an act which
seemed to him a little too earthy to be called exotic, and it was nothing
he had ever felt the need to try before. He was good at the standard
version of the sex act. Women had been happy enough with his usual
attentions. Ray Doyle was an excellent lover.

He knew it; he'd made himself into an experience which could never be
forgotten. In his younger days he had worried a great deal that his cock
was small. It wasn't. Dead average, he had discovered eventually. But he'd
heard a woman tell another that it was not the size, it was what you could
do with it, and he had vowed to become extremely good at what he could do
with it.

Bodie, he'd always figured, had been big and naturally talented, but not
educated in the matter of love. He had always felt just a little bit
superior to his well-hung partner. Doyle knew a great many positions, a
lot of techniques, and he had a way with words as well.

But he hadn't known some of the secrets Bodie knew. Bodie had once
mentioned a few kinky little facts about mercenary life, admitted to
making do with a mate in the jungle on more than one occasion. But that
had never translated to making love to a man in Doyle's mind. Not until
now. Not until Monica begged him to try something new.

He'd been interested, of course. It had been one of those things he had
always had in mind to try if the right moment ever came along. Well, the
moment had come, and he had given it a try. It had been...different.
Nastier, in a seductive sort of way. Touching her there, putting his
fingers in to make it bigger, make it ready. Kneeling behind her, with her
pink bottom raised to him, her flushed face looking back at him, begging
him to do it, he'd been hot for it. He'd pushed in slowly, having to stop
when she cried out.

Holding steady, waiting for her body to get used to him, he had rubbed her
belly. That's what he did when he took a woman from the back in the
regular way. He loved to be in a thin woman from the back, to reach under
and feel the shape of his cock beneath her skin, to rub it there, through
all the layers of her flesh.

This had been...different. Brief, awkward, not the best fuck of his life,
but he could feel things he had never experienced before, all sorts of new
sensations. She had been tight. A virgin, he reminded himself. He did have
her cherry, in a way. As much as Bodie had had Michael's. There'd been
blood, after all. He felt guilty about that blood, although it had proved
to be nothing. She had been fine the next morning. Even mentioned wanting
to do it again.

Doyle had been glad there wasn't enough time for that. Once had been bad
enough. Because he had thought about it as he had done it. Thought about
it as he fucked the warm slick depths of her. It had felt good. Very good.
And the thought had come to him that this is what Bodie was doing to
Michael. For a split second, he had imagined it was Michael under him.
Around him. It had been an idle, erotic thought. In the next moment he had
imagined it was Bodie under him.

It had been like an explosion in his mind. He had gasped, gone harder, and
started to fuck. He could not have stopped himself even if the idea had
occurred to him. Monica's gasps and squeals had told him he was doing a
good job of it, and they fuelled the incredible fantasy which sped through
his stunned brain with every thrust, every stroke which he made.

Bodie under him. Around him. In Bodie, who heaved and bucked and made
those sounds. His partner holding him inside. He'd forgotten all about
Monica in the dream of it, and he had known at that moment that he wanted
Bodie that way, more than he had ever wanted anything sexual. He wanted
Bodie under him, wanted to hold onto Bodie's cock, hold him still, force
himself inside so deep that his cock would drive right into Bodie's heart,
his throat, his brain.

He'd come like an Italian fountain, spraying into the condom with enough
force to ruin the thing. When he peeled it off, however, it was intact. It
had only been an illusion. There had been nothing on it, either, except a
tiny red thread of blood.

Monica had been happy with it, moaning both about the pleasure and about
the pain. He had found a cloth and cleaned them both, and then held her
tight as she drifted off to sleep. His own sleep had been held at bay by
the whirling confusion of his thoughts. He let them chase each other, one
after another, while he tried to sort it all out.

There was jealousy in him, a fresh dish of it, sour and tart. Michael. He
wanted to go down to the room, *his* room, and toss the kid out of it.
Right into the hall, naked. Because he knew the younger man was naked. He
was with Bodie in bed. Of course he was. Bodie was holding him. Bodie was
fucking him. In his mind, Doyle could see Bodie, bent over Michael's blond
body, a body coloured as Monica's was, pink and gold. Bodie, arms wrapped
around Michael, fucking him slowly, slowly, while Michael moaned and
sighed.

And then things got even more confusing, because Doyle could not make up
his mind. Which did he want, to mount Bodie himself, to claim that big
snow white body with his cock or to crawl under Bodie and have that big
thick cock driven into his body again and again?

It was a warm day, but Doyle shivered with the memory. Have Bodie's prick
up him? What was he thinking of? It would be bloody stupid. Would hurt,
and it might give Bodie the wrong ideas. He wasn't that sort of person,
not gay. How could he be thinking of that? Was just jealousy talking. It
must have bothered him more than he knew that Bodie would take up with
Michael.

With another man. With any other man?

And taking Bodie? It was an exciting thought, but did he really want him?

Well, that, at least, was an easy question to answer. Damn right he wanted
the stupid sod. Right where Bodie belonged, heaving under Doyle, letting
Doyle use all his techniques to make it happen for both of them. Only...he
knew that Bodie was Bodie. Hard man, a dominant type. Always making things
a competition, always wanting to be in the lead. On top. Bodie would want
to have him. Hell, he'd be lucky if Bodie would give him a fair share at
all. Bodie might want to do all the fucking. Doyle didn't like that.
Wasn't sure he wanted to be fucked at all, really. But his sense of
fairness insisted that if he had Bodie, then Bodie would have a right to
take him. Besides, that's the way their partnership worked. They were
equals. They would have to be equals in this, too.

Which brought up the thought again. Could he let Bodie do that to him?
Would it feel good enough to make the discomfort worthwhile?

Bodie's voice broke into his reverie.

"Car's here."

Doyle looked up. A dour American in a dark suit was standing at the edge
of the patio, and there was no doubt what he was.

"Cheerful sort," Doyle commented, picking up his bag.

"CIA, do you suppose? Or something nastier?" Bodie had scooped up his own
luggage and was leading the way. Doyle found himself watching Bodie's
shoulders. Nice broad ones. Built to take a lot of weight, a lot of
pressure. Bodie's whole body was built to take punishment.

Was his arse the same way? Could you slam into him, fuck him as hard as
you could, and not move him an inch? Doyle clenched his jaw and slid into
the back seat. It was hot there, all plastic.

"Can't afford air conditioning, mate?" Bodie asked as their guide slid in
the front with the driver.

"Don't need it for the little jobs," the man replied in kind. "Mason and
DeClemmens. We're to take you to the airport, where your little packages
await. We'll give you the cuff keys and the paperwork when we get there. I
have to follow procedure here, so try not to show how boring you find it.
Please be advised that the prisoners you are to take into custody are
dangerous and known as habitual criminals." Then in an aside, he confessed
cheerfully, "We're only giving them to you to clear out two spaces in the
jail."

He pretended to consider, "And because they're British citizens, too.
Under other circumstances, they'd be in prison and would never see the
light of day. They will try any trick to try to gain their freedom. Please
keep them cuffed and under restraint at all times. Please be aware that
there are elements which would like to either free or eliminate the
bastards. What else is there, Charlie?" He turned to his partner.

"The part about returning them," the driver said in a slow drawl.

"Oh, yeah. We don't want them back. They will not be allowed to return.
Unless they're coming back to face charges. Which I understand won't
happen, because they're going to rot in a damp dungeon somewhere. Which is
what they deserve. Vogel can slip cuffs--he's the dark one with the bruise
under his eye. Don't give into a kind impulse with him; he'll turn on you
every time. We have Kingston cuffs on him. Barlow is a dope dealer who
likes his own stuff. He'll be coming down in about six hours. The doctor
gave him some temporary help, but it will be wearing off. It's all in the
paperwork."

"I told you we'd have to pay for those two days off," Doyle said sourly.
It was going to be a lovely trip home. He knew he'd have to set aside his
personal problems as soon as they got out of the car. Work was work.

"Was worth it," Bodie said, with a reminiscent and pleased gleam in his
eye. Doyle fought back the impulse to kick him and just scowled. Bodie
would think it was the assignment, if he noticed. It was actually a plain
garden variety of jealousy.

"At least you won't have to wait around the airport. They're holding up a
military flight for you," Mason said.

"Air Force One, is it?" Bodie inquired.

"Naw. Nuclear waste disposal unit. Hope you've already had your children,
mister." That was from the driver. Doyle decided the man had a terrible
sense of humour. He didn't think it was the truth, although you never knew
about the Yanks.

"When do we get there?" Doyle asked, before Bodie could come up with any
witty repartee.

"Five minutes, if the local fuzz manage to ignore the fact that I'm going
about fifteen miles over the speed limit." Charlie was extremely cheerful
about the opportunity to speed.

"He drives like you do," Doyle commented, ignoring Bodie's wounded
expression. "What's the weather like in London?"

"Couldn't tell you." Charlie sounded not at all concerned.

Doyle kept silent the rest of the ride. He had little to say while they
took charge of the prisoners and boarded the plane. There wasn't much
difference between this and a commercial flight except the woman who
brought them lunch wore a military uniform and they were not offered
alcohol. Bodie flirted with the young woman, which Doyle tried to ignore.

The prisoners were sullen and quiet for the most part. They were not
allowed to even go to the bathroom alone. Doyle found himself staring at a
most unattractive penis as Mr Vogel shook it dry, and found himself
wondering how he could ever think of doing anything with another man's
privates.

"You queer or something?" asked Vogel when he caught the direction of
Doyle's stare. "Let ya have some. What'd ya want, want to be sucked off? I
can do it for ya, man."

Doyle gave him a poisonous look. *Oh, I bet you can*, he thought. And when
I had my pants around my ankles and my attention on my balls, you'd try to
knock me out. Take a hostage and try to take over the plane. With a jerk
of his chin he indicated that Mr Vogel should shut up and get out.

The last half of the trip was a nightmare, with Barlow screaming and
shaking and inventing new curses, and Vogel's darting eyes and nervous
chattering. Bodie remained cool throughout the trip, keeping his aura of
menace, even when he seemed to be dozing.

Once, he slapped Vogel viciously as that fool tried to get Bodie's gun.
The dark side of Bodie began to show at that point, and even Vogel backed
off at the glitter in Bodie's eyes.

But Doyle found he was not at all threatened by Bodie's air. He didn't
make the assumption that it was all show. Bodie was as bad as he appeared
to be, if not worse. For Doyle, however, that was not only acceptable, it
was necessary. Bodie was tough and mean and strong, and he was Doyle's
partner.

They slept in snatches that night, taking turns. Landing in the dark, they
were kept waiting by the officials for hours as the paperwork was checked
and found wanting. Finally the men in blue came for their prisoners and
they were free to go.

London, they found, was in the midst of the first really nasty bit of
weather of the winter season. It was snowing, the sort which falls
continually, but only wets the pavement. The roads were just becoming icy
and the driver of the taxi they found was the type who moaned every inch
of the way while driving so carefully that one suspected he went slow for
the purpose of driving up the fee. They reached Doyle's place first, and
he offered to put Bodie up for the night, but his partner elected to go on
to his own place.

Tired, annoyed, somewhat confused and cold, Doyle let himself into a flat
which was freezing. He saw to the heat at once, but knew it would be hours
before it warmed up. Tea helped, but in the end he bypassed a shower in
favour of the bed.

*Welcome home*, Doyle said to himself as he slid between freezing sheets.
He imagined Bodie crawling into his own huge bed, pulling that absurd fake
fur cover up over his ears. Imagined someone else under the bedding. A
woman. Bodie had said he had never had a man in England. Isn't that what
he said? To his horror, Doyle, who prided himself on his accurate
policeman memory, couldn't recall the exact words. He was still working on
it, exercising his sluggish recollection, when he drifted off to sleep.

The morning was hell. The weather was worse, the streets were worse and
there was paperwork galore greeting him when he arrived. Bodie, who had
arrived after Doyle and quite late, was swept up at once to substitute for
a colleague who had come down with the flu, leaving Doyle to do it all
alone, bemoaning the luck that punished his promptness and rewarded
Bodie's tardiness. Still, paperwork might be dull, but it was at least
warm inside. Bodie would be tearing around in that miserable mess.

So he did his reports and some of Bodie's as well, and eventually a sodden
and vocal Bodie returned to at last do his share. Doyle suggested a meal,
but Bodie already had plans, and Doyle found himself both glad and angry,
as well as annoyed at himself for his reactions. Why should he care where
Bodie went, what he did? There was, after all, plenty to do. Doyle needed
to replenish his larder, wash a Mt. Everest of laundry, plus household
tasks to tackle. So he did, and made an early night of it as well. Jet lag
ensured that he crawled into bed and fell into sleep immediately.

He woke to a day even nastier than the day before. It took him three times
as long as usual to drive to work. The streets were a horror, and the
pedestrians were as much in danger from the ice as the automobiles. It was
sleeting when it wasn't snowing or raining.

He warmed his back by the old fashioned radiator in the rest room and
waited, along with a half dozen of Cowley's finest, for a call which did
not come. He had to listen to Bodie tell highly altered versions of what
they had done in Florida. According to the tale Bodie told, the two of
them had met a pair of twins, Michelle and Monica, with whom they had gone
to a fantastic disco, and with whom they had sported on a fantastic sunny
beach, and with whom they had fucked almost continuously. Bodie added just
enough truth to his inventions to make them believable. It added a great
deal to Doyle's comprehension; he now knew how much of some of Bodie's
other tales to believe. It also made him angry.

It wasn't the lie that upset him. He'd known from the first that Bodie
could lie like a rug upon occasion, and it was a useful skill in their
profession. It was the enthusiasm with which Bodie went on and on about
Michelle. To hear him tell it, his companion for those few days had been
not only beautiful, but some kind of paragon. A wonderful, understanding
lover.

Bodie managed to include some reference to Florida, sun, tans, swimming
and beautiful blondes in every conversation he had for the next week. In
the process, he was, all unknowingly, hacking away at Doyle's temper and
his self control. It was as if the sturdy rope which held Doyle's baser
instincts in check was severed strand by strand.

One thread of it separated when Bodie told Murphy how 'Michelle' had
helped him pick out swimming trunks. Another gave way when he suggested
that Monica had wanted to join Bodie and Michelle one night. There was
some truth in that. Monica had been interested in what Bodie and her
brother had been doing. Yet another frazzled hank disintegrated during
Bodie's overly detailed description of a blow job he had been given.

It didn't help to remind himself that Michael meant no more to Bodie than
Monica had meant to him. That wasn't quite right. Michael had been a
milestone. Bodie's first man in years. Bodie's lover.

Bodie's lover. Gone, but obviously not forgotten.

Everything Bodie did seemed to grate on Doyle's nerves. It seemed to him
that Bodie looked at men now. He would watch a man walk down the street
with the same smile on his face which was there when he eyed a lady. The
last shred of Doyle's control gave way for no particular reason at all.
Bodie whistled when Jax came in wearing a new suit.

Doyle hit him, hit him harder than the occasion or manly good spirits
required. Hit him hard enough so that Bodie turned and looked squarely at
him. It seemed to Doyle that Bodie had not looked at him, really looked,
ever since they had gone to Florida. Bodie's attention was always
somewhere else. Doyle was tired of it, tired of cheerful references to
sunny clime and tired of trying to understand his own feelings. It was
time to clear the air.

"Wha' did you do *that* for?" Bodie asked, struggling for breath. It was
clear he had been caught entirely by surprise.

"We're going to go talk. In the car. Now."

"We're on duty," Bodie pointed out, rubbing the spot on his arm which
Doyle had so unexpectedly abused.

"We're on standby. We can do it just as well out there. We'll tell Jack at
the desk where we are and he can contact us by r/t if we're needed."

"Cowley won't..." Jax began.

Doyle made a physically impossible suggestion as to what Cowley could do
and grabbed Bodie by his elbow and urged him towards the door.

"Doyle," Bodie began as they took the creaking, clanking lift down.

"You can talk all you want once we're in the car," Doyle interrupted.

"What's got up your nose?" Bodie asked, ignoring Doyle with the ease of
long practice. It just made his partner more surly.

They climbed into the white car assigned to Doyle, with Doyle making sure
that he was on the driver's side. The position of power, the driver's
seat. He needed all the psychological help he could get, especially as his
temper had cooled down about five minutes after he stepped out into the
wicked wind. They had left their coats, and although both were wearing
several layers of clothing, they were quickly chilled.

"So what is going on inside your addled head?" Bodie demanded as soon as
the car doors had slammed shut. "And make it bloody fast, too. I'm too
young to die."

"I'm sick of you going on and on about Florida. I don't want to hear
anything else about Florida. If I never hear of the place again as long as
I live, I'll be happy. Is that clear enough for you?" Doyle turned towards
Bodie as he spoke, and his face showed his fury.

"And Sir might also like?" Bodie mocked. In his own voice he demanded,
"Where do you get off speaking to me like that! I plan on talking about
whatever I damn please!"

"No you won't." Doyle said it almost calmly.

"Oh? Are you going to stop me?"

Doyle shook his head. "No, you're going to stop yourself. One of these
days, Bodie, either you or I will slip and say Michael instead of
Michelle. I don't like being reminded of your little walk on the wild side
every time you open your mouth, but I suppose I could live with it. But I
hate having to guard my tongue and I hate listening to you spin your
bloody yarns. I've put up with it for days and I am fucking tired of it!"
With a deep breath he turned his attention ahead. Almost all of the
windscreen was blocked by the build-up of soggy flakes. The wind rose. He
could feel the gusts push against his side of the car.

"You're afraid you'll make a mistake and say Michael instead of Michelle?
Thought you were made of stronger stuff," Bodie said, and he was mocking
again.

"Actually, I'm afraid I'll hit you again. Only this time I won't aim for
your shoulder. Hope you know a good dentist, mate." Doyle hunched down a
bit as he spoke. It was too cold to be out here. Too damn cold.

"Petty," Bodie offered.

"Petty," Doyle agreed. "Hope your teeth think so."

"Only a fool puts his fist into somebody's mouth, Doyle. Don't you ever
listen to Macklin?" Bodie said it lightly. Doyle knew his partner was
trying to change the tone of the conversation. Doyle decided he didn't
want it changed.

"So maybe it won't be your teeth I aim at. What kind of doctor works on
damaged balls?"

"I'm going in," Bodie told him, and reached for the door. Doyle stopped
him.

"Bodie? Are you going to pack it in? Stop talking about Michael and
Monica?"

"You haven't given me a good reason, Doyle. I'm not afraid of you."

"Fine. Will you just do it? Do it because I asked you to?" Doyle asked.

"It really bothers you, doesn't it?" Bodie said, as if just now realizing
it. "Why?"

"I don't like thinking about you and Michael. It bothers me. Every time
you talk about him, I remember what you did with him. I keep
wondering...."

"Wondering about what?" Bodie asked, encouragingly.

Doyle sighed. "About if you miss him. About what I'll do if you find some
man here in London to take up with. You don't realize it, mate, but you've
changed. I'm used to how you look at birds; I do it, too, don't I? But do
you know you look at men in that way now? When you whistled at Jax it was
only the latest in a long line of minor sins. You can't go on that way if
you expect to keep your little secrets, Bodie. I wonder if you'll make a
pass at some man right under my nose one day."

"No chance of that," Bodie assured him, but he wore a faint worried frown.
"It's not as bad as you paint it," he added.

"Oh? It wasn't me who pinched Murphy's arse the other day, was it?"

There wasn't much Bodie could say to that, Doyle noticed. It was the
perfect example of what he was talking about.

"So I'll be more careful," Bodie said.

"Will you?" Doyle asked, doubting.

"Yes. Now can we go in? I'm freezing the family jewels off out here."
Bodie wrapped his arms around himself to emphasize his point.

"No. I'm not done," Doyle growled. His voice was tight, not only from the
cold, which was starting to make him shiver a bit, but from fear. He
didn't want to say the next words for fear that Bodie would laugh, but he
felt compelled to say them.

"Bodie, if you can't stand it and have to have a man, you'd better have
me."

Bodie looked at him with a totally stunned expression.

"Don't look at me like that. It won't be a secret if you go and pick up
one night stands in the gay community. You'll get kicked out of CI5, and
what would I do for a partner? Did you see the latest lot? They share one
brain cell amongst them. If you need a man, come to me, do you
understand?"

It was a solution, of sorts. At least, if Bodie came to him when he needed
sex with a man, Doyle wouldn't have to be jealous.

"You? Not only are you straight as an arrow, but you don't know what
you're asking! I couldn't go to bed with you!"

"Of course you could. You went with Mike, didn't you?" He used the
diminutive form of the name deliberately, as if to remind Bodie of
Michael's shortcomings, his youth.

"Michael knew what he was getting into. Michael...."

Doyle shouted, "Michael was a bloody virgin! Well, so am I! It won't be
much different, Bodie. Close your eyes if you have to, and pretend it's
him!"

"Don't be stupid, Ray!" That was as far as Bodie got. The last strand of
the rope which held Doyle's temper and his passion in check, parted with a
snap. With an inarticulate sound he launched himself across the cramped
car, grabbing hold of Bodie with hands of steel. He hauled the dark-haired
man to him and, with a vicious pleasure, he planted his mouth over
Bodie's.

As kisses go it was something on the order of an erupting volcano combined
with an earthquake. For a good long time neither of them had a thought in
his head which had to do with anything other than the press of lips and
tongue, and the rush of heated, tingling blood.

When they fell apart it was because lack of air had become critical.

"Hell, Doyle! Ray!" Bodie got his voice back first.

"What?" Doyle managed to choke out.

"It's not cold in here anymore. And thank Christ for the snow on the
windows." He sat up, hands firmly in front of him. Doyle knew Bodie was
fighting the effort to take him into his arms again.

"After work tonight, we're going to my place for a meal. And then you're
going to pluck my cherry, Bodie. You're going to give me everything you
gave Michael. And more. Do you hear me, Bodie?"

Bodie made a sound between pain and joy and grabbed his groin with one
hand while reaching out towards Doyle. His hand fell on his partner's leg
just as he twisted, groaned and came in his pants.

Doyle watched with awe, his mouth slightly open and his expression
stunned. "Bodie?"

Bodie was in no shape to reply. Doyle waited with as much patience as he
could muster, until Bodie straightened in his seat.

"It's a benefit, those dark slacks," Doyle said at last. Then he asked,
soberly, "Bodie? Did you just...."

"Yeah. I came just from listening to you, Ray. I always did.... I mean,
it's...."

Doyle grinned, enjoying seeing Bodie almost at a loss for words. "You
always..." he prompted. "Always what?"

"Always wanted you," Bodie admitted softly.

"Always?" Doyle wanted to know. He started out teasing, but something in
Bodie's face caused him to get serious.

"Always," Bodie confessed.

"Tell you what. You give up other men and women as well and we'll see
about making that always into forever."

"You're joking." Bodie sat up straighter, the shock of Doyle's words
helping him recover.

"No, I'm not."

"You'd really go to bed with me? And if it's good, keep on with it?"

Doyle nodded. "That's right. Are you going to make it good, Bodie?"

"I'm going to make it great, Ray. But I notice you didn't make any
promises. If it's nobody else for me, then it's nobody else for you."

"Deal," Doyle said swiftly.

A sharp rap on the window startled them both, causing Doyle to jump and
Bodie to curse roundly. Doyle opened the window a tiny crack.

"Cowley is sending us all home except the on duty team!" Jax shouted, to
be heard above the rising wind. "Go in, sign out, go home!"

Doyle waved to show he heard and quickly closed the window.

"You heard the man!" Bodie said, reaching for his door handle. Then he
paused and turned back to Doyle before he opened it. "If you're sure?"

"I'm sure," Doyle answered. Bodie's smile stunned him. He had never seen
the other man look so happy. Even his face looked different. Doyle was
almost certain it was love he saw on Bodie's face, and his own heart
lifted. "I'm very sure," he said again. He got out of the car. Together,
he and Bodie dashed for the building, head down against the raging storm,
matching each other stride for stride.

--THE END --

*Originally published in *Fruit Cocktail -- Again!?*, Rainbow Dragon
Press, 1993*

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