the tones low and serious. He couldn’t make out the words. He stood there, not really intending to listen.
“You’ve got to pull yourself together.” It was Thom’s voice, followed by what might have been a stifled sob. “Look, it doesn’t mean anything. Not really.”
“But you’re married!” Bill’s voice rose in pitch, like a child whining about not being given a promised treat.
“It’s only a ceremony, Billy,” Dan heard Thom say in consoling tones. There was a long silence. Dan’s blood jumped with adrenaline as he waited.
“You’re the only one I’ve ever loved,” he heard Bill say. “In my entire fucking life!”
You have no idea how difficult this is for me. Dan felt sickened, torn between leaving and staying to hear more. Curiosity won out.
“It’s okay, Billy. It’s okay,” Thom said soothingly. The talking died to a murmur. Then he heard Bill ask, “Who am I?”
“You’re my hot little cabin boy,” Thom answered.
Dan felt a flash of rage that had preceded some of the stupidest acts he’d ever perpetrated. His fist raised itself of its own accord. He wanted to pound on the door and demand the lovers emerge red-faced, in flagrante. In his mind, he saw himself denting the filing cabinet and remembered how good it had felt. He fought the rage, sucking in air even as his fist resisted.
There are mirrors in junk shops, silvered over with age and mildew, reflecting whatever lies before them pressed against a mottled, timeworn backdrop. Without breaking the glass, they shatter the illusion by giving an image of the outer world while simultaneously revealing the thin edge of reality beneath. This was what Dan felt he was looking at. His hand recoiled with a shiver of recognition; his stomach rebelled.
He lurched down the passage in search of a washroom, barging past startled guests. A changeroom presented itself, the door half open. Inside, Sebastiano stood before a full-length mirror. Dan’s anger bobbed, shifted, and found a new focus. He toed the door open with his foot. The boy looked up.
“Need some help?” Dan said.
Sebastiano watched curiously as Dan tugged at the ends of his bowtie. Next, Dan straightened the suspender straps, smoothing them over Sebastiano’s shoulders as though dressing a child. The boy leaned back with an expression of trust. Muscles strained his shirtfront. Dan knew there’d be no struggle.
“You and your sister dance well together.”
Sebastiano’s chin rose and fell in what might have been agreement. Dan’s move was smooth, unhurried. He knew the hypnotic effect gentleness had on boys like Sebastiano, even the experienced ones. His fingers reached around the back of his neck. He waited till the boy looked him in the eye then pulled their faces together. They kissed more deeply and intimately than Sebastiano had kissed Thom after their vows. The sensation was wet and soft; their teeth clicked together a few times before they got the rhythm. After that, it was simply a matter of closing the door and getting down to business. Sebastiano’s pants slid off easily, as clothes do when worn by men whose bodies fit the cut, with no excess flesh to consider. Dan unzipped his own trousers and let them slide to the floor, pulling his underwear taut across his thighs. Sebastiano turned his broad back to Dan and braced himself against the mirror.
Dan knelt and breathed in the smell of funk. His tongue twitched and darted. He felt the short sharp bristles and heard Sebastiano moan. He slid a glistening finger, then a second, deftly up into moist warm flesh. Sebastiano made what passed for welcoming noises. Dan stood. Quickly, before Sebastiano could protest, he plunged in. He felt warmth, wet, goo. It felt good. Familiar, yet not. He hadn’t fucked without a condom in years, not since a drunken fling in a garage that had been left open on Hayden Street when he’d been followed down the lane at four a.m. after a night of dancing. It had taken an excess of alcohol for him to be reckless that time. This time all it had taken was rage.
There were no protests as he rode the Brazilian stud. The boy arched himself at the mirror, face pressed against the glass. Dan gripped the boy’s abdominals, straining and forcing himself all the way in. There were no protests about that, either, only murmurs of pleasure and a few encouraging words in Portuguese. A drop of sweat glistened and fell from the tip of Dan’s nose. It landed on the small of the boy’s back, rolling down to where Dan’s cock joined Sebastiano’s body in slithery, piston-like motions. He came quickly, discharging completely before pulling out with a solitary plop. Sebastiano let out a groan and came in jerks and spasms onto the mirror, his spunk whiter than any Dan could recall. It hung there, almost muscular in its clinging, not running down. Dan grunted, as if in reply. His cock swung sloppily between his legs, a telltale smudge on the head. A pungent smell filled the air.
Dan picked the boy’s underwear up from the floor and wiped himself off with it. For good measure, he wiped the mirror too. The boy turned to face him. “Good fuck?” Dan said.
“Yeah — good fuck.” The boy grinned.
Dan smiled, but his anger was still intact. Good, yes — but I bet you won’t be too quick to brag about it. Maybe I’ll spread the word myself.
“I have to go,” Sebastiano said without a trace of sheepishness.
“Me too.”
Dan handed over the boy’s underwear with the stain smeared across the bottom.
The boy’s smile vanished. “I cannot wear this,” he said.
Dan looked around, as if perplexed. He brightened. “Here,” he said, handing over his own silk boxers. “You can have mine. A little something to remember me by when you have your honeymoon fuck.”
The boy looked at them dubiously then shrugged. “Why not?” He pulled them up over his legs. They fit.
Why not, indeed?
“They look good on you,” Dan said. “Keep them. It’s the least I can do.”
Gentle arabesques of light fanned over the ballroom and across the dancers, glittering diamonds creating a fantasy landscape, the happy ending to some fairy tale. Trevor stood just inside the ballroom door. His face lit up when he saw Dan.
“Hey! I’ve been looking for you. How’s it going?”
Dan had to fight to make eye contact with him. He was suddenly and utterly consumed by shame. Whatever had possessed him only minutes ago had begun to slacken like a balloon losing altitude. The blood urge for revenge was gone, leaving only the afterglow of remorse.
“I think I just did something very stupid,” he said.
Trevor watched him curiously. “Anything to do with your boyfriend?”
Dan nodded. “My boyfriend and your cousin. It seems they’ve been a good deal more than best friends. My stupidity, I guess.”
Trevor put a hand on Dan’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said in that calming voice. “They’re not a nice crowd — my cousin and his friends. They’re awful people. Selfish and insincere. I shouldn’t be saying this, but you seem like a nice guy. I wouldn’t want to see you get hurt.”
Dan shrugged, his face a portrait of self-reproach. “Too late.”
Trevor attempted a consoling smile. “Is there anything
