It was Friday evening and here I sat alone at the window table in the Cove Café on Castro, watching the people passing while waiting for my dinner.  The back of someone's head caught my attention, reminding me of Cass. I immediately turned back to the black coffee the waitress had just set before me. Like a San Francisco fog, the memory of walking in on Cass and Fred hung low over me. I glanced at my watch and did the calculations in my head as I’ve done a million times already. Six months and two weeks – minus one minute and fifty-six seconds. I'd been doing a good Scarlett O'Hara act, refusing to let myself think about him... until just now.  The quartz watch on my wrist ticked away the seconds until it would be exactly six months and two weeks since I'd caught my lover in bed with my best friend.

Cass... beautiful Cass, with his enigmatic smile that drew everyone into the net of his charms, including me. Cassidy O'Brien, with his clear fair complexion and reddish highlights in his blonde hair. Cass, the chameleon, he would be what one wanted him to be.  I wanted him to be mine.  And he was all mine... or so I’d believed, until six months and two weekends ago.

I'd had to transfer my office to San Francisco two months before that dreadful night.  Nearly eighty percent of my business was in the Bay area, so I needed to be here.  Every other weekend I would fly to L.A., and the weekends between my visits, Cass flew up to see me.  Then came a weekend he couldn't come up. I never understood his excuse, but accepted it and spent the weekend alone. The next weekend I flew down to see him and everything was wonderful. Then the following weekend he again couldn't come to S.F., so late Friday evening I flew down to surprise him. When I let myself into the house on the hill looking down on Santa Monica Blvd. – the house that I owned and Cass still lived in – I was the one to be the more surprised. Not only was he entertaining another man with his beautiful long cock up the man's ass. The man was Fred, my best friend; the one friend I'd grown up with, the one person I thought of as closer than my own brother.

I froze in shock. A gasp must have escaped me because Cass glanced around at me. Our eyes met for a moment before I turned and fled. I hadn't set my overnight bag down; otherwise, I'd probably have left it.  Down the winding street I ran as though a goblin was chasing me. I ran all the way to Santa Monica Blvd where I flagged a cab and headed back to the airport. My cell phone started ringing as I ran. After identifying both Cass's number and then Fred's, I turned it off. I was fortunate to get a flight within the hour and was back in San Francisco by eleven that evening.

When I entered my apartment, I leaned against the closed door and gazed around the room, nearly everything reminded me of Cass. Not only had he helped me furnish the apartment, he'd even bought several things, like the painting I'd admired, a vase, a small bronze sculpture – things to remind me of him when I looked at them. I started gathering every item having any connection to Cass from every room... the living room, the dining room, the bedroom, the kitchen and even the cute little rubber ducky from the bathroom that Cass had bought just for the tub.  I carried the stuff down to the street by the arm loads and dumped it on the edge of the sidewalk for whoever wanted to take it. 

When I'd finished, there was very little left, except the major pieces of furniture that I'd bought myself.  Nothing left had the O'Brien ‘taint’ on it. I looked around the nearly empty room, sighed, and fell into bed to sleep the sleep of the totally exhausted. Around five in the morning I woke up crying. I told myself that I was being silly, he wasn't worth the tears. After washing my face and making a pot of coffee, I sat at the little kitchen table and mourned the loss of love, faith, and trust. As I watched the sunrise, I swore I'd never again put myself in such a vulnerable situation. Never again would I give my heart to another man.

At six‑fifteen, as I morosely sipped my coffee, the door bell rang. Who in hell rings a doorbell at fifteen minutes past six-fucking-o'clock in the morning? I shambled to the door and looked through the peek hole. Both Cass and Fred were standing on the other side of the door. I thought about just letting them stand there until they went away, but decided they might start pounding on the door and yelling. I didn't want them disturbing my neighbors that early in the morning, so blocking the door with my body, I opened it about four inches and simply looked at them.

"Damn, Jack, you look like shit." That was dear sweet Cass.

Fred said, "We came to apologize."

I stared at them blankly; I refused to let them see how they'd devastated me.

"Aren't you going to invite us in?" Cass asked.

He was always impatient.  He hated to be kept waiting.  I used to find that charming... silly me. I shook my head and said, "No."

"You’re going to make us grovel?" Cass used his cute little spoiled brat whine that used to send me scurrying to satisfy his every desire.

I found that it no longer affected me.  "No, there’s nothing either of you have to say that is worth hearing."

Cass, being taller than I am, could see the sparseness of the room behind me. Standing on tiptoes, he peered into the room. "What happened to all the things we bought together and all the things I gave you?"

I shrugged. "If you didn't pass them on the sidewalk, then I would assume they've already found a new home."

"Shit, Jack,” he whined, “some of that stuff was really expensive and valuable."

"Yes, it was," I said, staring into his deceitful  eyes, "but it all became worthless to me about seven o'clock last night."

They both looked shamefaced.

"So... may we come in and explain how this happened?" Fred asked.

"No."

"That's it? Simply no?"

I couldn't understand why Fred sounded incredulous, but then I wasn't interested enough to find out.  "You've destroyed something precious,” I told them. "You can't explain that away. I have only one wish for the two of you, and that is: May you both be as faithful and trustworthy to each other as you have been to me."

I noted that they shamefacedly glanced at each other before looking back at me.  I closed the door in their faces, stumbled into the bathroom and vomited bile and black coffee. Dry heaves helped me ignore the doorbell until it finally stopped. At least they had the decency to finally leave. I turned off my cell and unplugged the house phone, isolating myself. I no longer had a wonderful charming lover, and I no longer had a best friend that I'd grown up with. 

Six months and two weeks later, the Cove waitress set a plate before me piled with juicy meatloaf, a baked potato loaded with butter, sour cream, and lots of chives. A stack of steamed broccoli and carrots slathered with butter were piled next to it. As I cut into the meatloaf, I felt like I was being watched and looked up into a pair of beautiful brown eyes just on the other side of the window. I smiled at the man, he nodded and walked on.  A few moments later, I again felt like I was being watched and looked up in time to see the same fellow walking the opposite direction. I watched him stop by the light pole in front of the liquor store next door, turn and look back. His pretended nonchalance amused me as I looked him over. He was neatly dressed in clothes that had seen too many days without a washing. But his over‑long hair was combed and his shirt was buttoned to the top and tucked neatly into his pants, which he wore up around the top of his hips instead of half way off his ass like so many young people do today. He was even wearing a belt. He wasn't beautiful in the sense that Cass was, but he was wholesome and handsome in a Midwest farm boy way.  I put it off as simply cruising and went on with my meal.

The third time I looked up, I realized that he was looking hungrily at the food on my plate. I mentally kicked myself for being so self absorbed that I'd failed to notice that before.  I quickly asked the waitress to bring another full order of what I was having and ran out the door to catch him. He'd almost lost himself in the crowd before I spotted him and rushed to catch up with him. I placed a hand on his shoulder and said, "Excuse me." 

He turned with his fists clinched - ready to fight - and growled, “What the fuck do you want?" Then with a look of surprise, he said, “Oh, it's you."

"I‑I just wanted to ask you to..."

"Look, I'm sorry I interrupted your meal." His voice was a bit less surly. "I'm not..."

I interrupted him. "I hate eating by myself and thought you might join me."

He flushed. "I’m not for rent."

"It never entered my thoughts that you were. I'm just looking for some company while I eat, and I thought I'd invite you to join me."

"I can't," he muttered, staring at his shoes as he scuffed the concrete with the toe of one, but he didn't turn away. I guess my disappointment showed and got to him. He looked up into my eyes and said, "Look, I'm not a beggar. I just don't have the money to pay for a meal like that right now."

"I’m inviting you to be my guest... just to keep me company. Please? The food’s good."

"I don't have any way to repay you."

"Have you heard me say one word about any kind of repayment?"

He looked away.

"Then come along and enjoy a meal with me."  I took his arm and led him back into the café, ignoring the astonished looks of the people around us.

 "I need to wash up before I eat," he said, looking around as we stepped through the door.

"The restroom is through the kitchen," the waitress said as she approached my table with the plate I'd abandoned a few minutes before. "I kept it warm for you. Do you know what your guest would like to drink with his meal?"

'What a sweetheart,' I thought, and smiled my appreciation to her. She acted like it was an everyday occurrence for her customers to jump up and run out to invite someone off the street to join them for dinner.

"Thank you," I glanced at her name tag, "Sarah, would you ask him?"

"Certainly, Sir." She returned to the kitchen.

When my dinner guest returned, he looked a bit less worn. He'd obviously washed his face and neck as well as his hands and arms. Before he could sit, I stood and said, "I suppose we should introduce ourselves. I'm Jack Sprattling."

He had a firm grasp as we shook hands. "I'm Sam Forster. And thank you for inviting me to join you." He was having a difficult time keeping his eyes from drifting down to my plate.

"Well, sit. I took the liberty of ordering the same thing for you as I’m having. I hope that's okay."

He ducked his head and said, "That's fine. It looks delicious."

The waitress arrived with his meal at that moment. "What would you like to drink, Sir?" She asked him.

Sam glanced at me and I shrugged. "A tall cold milk?" He asked.

She smiled at him. "A tall cold milk it is."

It was obvious that Sam was hungry, but he took the time to spread his napkin on his lap, bow his head, fold his hands together and say, "Thank you, Lord, for this generous man and this meal. Please bless them both."  Then he picked up his knife and fork and commenced to slowly eat, savoring every bite. Once in a while he'd glance across at me, his warm brown eyes glowing, his smile tenuous. We talked intermittently.

Having eaten as much as I wanted, I pushed my plate away. He glanced at it. I'd left most of the vegetables. "If you're not going to eat them, may I have your veggies?" He asked.

"Of course, you may, and you may order more if you wish."

"Thank you, but this will be enough."

I watched him cut up the broccoli spears and eat them. He then wiped his mouth and folded his napkin. He looked up at me and smiled. "I haven't had a full meal like that in several weeks," he said. "Thank you."

"Would you care for a cup of coffee and some dessert?"

"Coffee would be good, but no dessert."

I motioned for the waitress and ordered two cappuccinos. While we waited, I asked, "Where are you from, Sam."

"A small town north of Des Moines."

"You don't look like the run of the mill street person. May I ask how you’ve come to be here?"

Sam stared into his lap as he rubbed one hand over the other. Eventually, he looked up at me. "I can't assume you're gay. But you must be gay friendly, having dinner in the Castro."

"I'm gay, Sam."

"Me, too, or at least I think I may be." He literally blushed. "I only had sex with a guy once, and I was on the receiving end. I enjoyed getting a... a... a blowjob. And when Billy Joe kissed me, I found I was really getting into kissing him back. But that was when my wife walked in."

The waitress brought the coffees to the table and asked if we wanted anything else. I thanked her and said, "No, we're fine for awhile."

"Betsy... she was my wife," Sam continued, "threaten to expose the both of us if I didn't pack my bags and leave. I knew she'd let it about anyway – what she'd seen. Billy Joe, I heard, hung himself a few days after I left. His mother found him in the garage, his body still convulsing. She cut him down, but it was too late. Billy Joe had snapped his neck.

"His mother publicly blamed Betsy and sued her for his death. She won the case, and I'm glad she did. Betsy’s a selfish Baptist preacher's daughter. She'd talked her daddy into fronting the money for setting up my office and she thought she owned me. Always telling me what I could or couldn’t do. I mean I was a veterinarian; I had a good business going. I'd quickly paid off my debt to her dad. Most of the farmers and ranchers in the area brought their animals to me for treatment. Old Doc Pritchard was too old to be trusted with a prized horse or cow. 

"Anyway, I was so ashamed that I left without protest. With just a suitcase and the clothes on my back, I walked away from it all... hell, I ran. Small town people can be the most generous, loving folk you'd ever want to meet. But give 'em something like the town's vet is a fag and they'd think nothing of hanging me, so I ran..."  He paused a moment in thought while he intently stirred his coffee, "Yeah, I ran."

"So, you have a degree in veterinarian medicine?"

"Back in Iowa. But I could never practice there again. Betsy's daddy would see to that."

"Have you thought of getting certified in California and setting up a practice here?"

Sam laughed. It made me feel good to see that. "Hell, Jack, there's no horses or cattle here."

"No, but there's lots of dogs and cats."

"I've treated a few dogs."  He seemed to drift off into his own world for a bit, then he looked sternly at me and said, "Damn, look what you've done. I don't even have a pot to piss in, and you've got me to thinking I could be a vet here in San Francisco. I'd have to go back to school... that costs money, then setting up an office costs, too."

Sam drank some of his coffee and gave me a look like I was some kind of idiot. I just sat there and smiled benignly while he drank the rest of his coffee, then I spoke. "Okay, here's my plan," I told him. He looked askance at me, but there was a hint of interest, too. "I've got an apartment big enough for three. That gives you a home base, an address. I'll bet you know where you can go to school here to get your credentials, don't you." I grinned knowingly.

He looked a bit sheepish having to admit it. "Yeah, the university over on the west side."

"Do you know how to use a computer?"

"I'm fair at it. With a little practice I could be proficient."

"So starting Monday morning you've got a job. You'll have to interview with the boss first, but I'm sure he'll hire you."

Sam stared at me. "Why are you doing this? You don't know me... I could be a druggy for all you know."

"Are you using or have you ever used drugs?"

"No, but I’ve been tempted these last few weeks."

"You don't look like you’d be the kind to give in to them, that's why I'm doing this."

After studying me intently for over a minute without saying anything, I began to feel like I should be squirming. Then he smiled and said, "I'll agree to all of this on one condition."

I thought, 'Listen fella, a beggar can't be choosy,’ then mentally kicked myself and asked what that condition was.

"A legal agreement has to be drawn up stating that you an exact record will kept of what this venture costs you. And that I will pay it all back with interest."

That floored me. It wasn't something I expected. My respect for Sam just went up 100%. I was suddenly joyous that I had dragged him off the street. I nodded in agreement to his one condition. "Wonderful," I said. "Unless you'd like something more, let's walk up to Walgreen's and pick up a couple of items we need and then go home." During our conversation over dinner he’d told me how his few possessions had been stolen, so I knew he needed a toothbrush and other hygiene items. I told him to get what he wanted and noticed that he included a small notebook among the items he gathered.

When I paid for it, along with some things I wanted, Sam took the receipt and his booklet. As I watched, he checked off everything that was for him and entered the amount on the first page. Then he folded the receipt and tucked it into the booklet. He looked up at me and smiled. A real smile. It transformed his face. I felt a tug at my heart strings. I smiled back and quickly turned my thought in other directions.

When we entered the apartment, Sam looked around, surprised. "You don't strike me as being a minimalist. This is austere."

"I’ve just removed everything that had anything to do with my... my Ex. If I find I like your taste, I'll let you help me refurnish."

He grinned and nodded.

I showed him into what I'd previously thought of as the guest room and told him it was his for as long as he needed it. After pointing out that the bathroom connected to both his room and the office, as I called the third bedroom, he asked if he could bathe. "Sam, you don't have to ask. This is now your home. Drop your clothes outside the door and I'll put them in to wash. I'll loan you some of my shorts to wear while they're drying."

He took a long shower, and when he walked into the living room he looked like a different person. Wearing only my shorts, freshly shaved, hair still damp, and smelling of Old Spice deodorant, my heart did this little twang again. I stood to flee into the kitchen, but before I could escape, Sam wrapped his arms around me and told me how much he appreciated what I was doing.

I stuttered, "I wouldn’t do this for just anyone, but there's something about you, Sam, that says your special. I can only hope that you keep my faith in you."

"I will, Jack."

I patted him on his bare back and moved away from him.  Close contact was doing things I wasn't prepared to follow through on.

"Tomorrow we'll go shopping for clothes. You've got to have the proper look at work."

"Do you think I could get a haircut, too?" He asked.

"Of course. I'll call my barber first thing in the morning and set up an appointment.  He probably can't fit you in until Monday or Tuesday. Do you have a driver's license?"

"I had an Iowa one, but it went with the rest of my stuff."

"You do know your Social Security number."

"Of course." He then rattled it off to me.

"Looks like Monday we’ll be busy getting your identity re‑established."

"It's amazing how quickly one can lose one's identity when you don't have a place to live. I was quickly becoming a nonperson. I don't know how I'll ever be able to repay you, Jack. And I'm not talking about the money, that, I definitely will repay."

"Sam, understand one thing.  I'm not a do-gooder. If your big brown eyes hadn't caught my attention, you'd still be down on the street." He blushed. "There was something in your eyes when you looked at me through the window that said I needed to help you, because you in turn could help me. Don't ask me what I mean. That's just what came into my mind when I looked up into your eyes."

"I was watching you before you noticed me," he said, "I could see that someone had hurt you and you haven't recovered from it yet," he quietly said.

I glanced at him.  He had that benign understanding look that our old family doctor had when he would examine me as a child. It was an expression that I'd learned I could trust; that said he wouldn't hurt me. I nodded and turned away.

We discussed house rules, which basically consisted only of the Golden Rule. I excused myself and went to bed. As tired as I felt, it took me a long time to finally get to sleep.  I dreamed about Sam.

During the following days we did as we’d planned. To firmly establish Sam's identity, he had to request a duplicate copy of his birth certificate from the state of Iowa. That had to be sent by mail. In this day and age, I can't understand why it couldn't be faxed or e‑mailed... go figure.

Once Sam got his hair cut and dressed in his new clothes, I couldn't believe the change in his looks and demeanor. He laughed heartily when he was shown into my office for his formal interview. It surprised me that he didn't catch the joke when I told him he had a job. I suppose at the time he was too uptight to see it.

Living and working with Sam was easy and delightful. We soon fell into a routine like an old married couple. The only thing lacking was the romance and sex. I began to notice that Sam never went out. He was content to stay in. But then working nearly full time and going to school kept him very busy. And when he had any free time, he always sought me out to spend it with him. I should have gotten a clue.

My problem was I had fallen for the man that very first evening when he sat across the table from me. But I was on the rebound and had just vowed that I wasn't getting my heart involved in a situation where I was vulnerable and could be hurt again. Besides, I didn't want him to think I was taking advantage of his situation, so I kept my feelings and emotions to myself and just enjoyed his presence.

One evening I was watching TV when Sam came in and joined me, as he often would. During a commercial, I went into the kitchen and got us snacks and drinks. When I settled back into my chair, I noticed Sam looking at me strangely. I smiled at him and asked, "What?"

"You never go out and socialize. I know you have friends you could meet for drinks or dinner, but you never do."

I studied him a moment, wondering why he was pushing the point. "I could say the same about you, Sam. You've not been out once since we met."

"I haven't really got the time with my studies and all."

I shrugged. "True." I turned back to the tube, hoping he would drop the subject. No such luck.

"So why don't you? You certainly have the time."

I could’ve been truthful at this point, but I dissembled. "I guess I'm still on the rebound."

"He really hurt you, huh?"

At some point I'd told Sam about Cass. "Yeah, he did. I should have expected it, but it hit me right out of the blue."

"I don't understand how the man could do that to you. I never could."

I looked at him, startled. He'd turned back to the TV, so I let it drop. I have no idea what we were watching.  I spent the rest of the evening in a quandary. At ten o'clock Sam stood and stretched. "See you tomorrow."

"Good Night, Sam."

He glanced at me and I turned my eyes back to the TV.  From the corner of my eye I saw him shrug as he walked away.

Sam only had to take three courses to qualify for testing to get his veterinary license. I helped him find a store front in Noy Valley to set up his office and little animal hospital. He advertized for a receptionist and a helper. And after several interviews, he hired a woman to work reception and a young fellow to work as his assistant with the animals.

He was an immediate success. His services were needed. As he started making money, he started making payments to me. Each payment itemized just what he was paying off.  I really didn't want to take the money, I certainly didn't need it. But to preserve his pride and honor, I took it. It wasn't long before the money was paying for room and board only.

Then came the day I should have been expecting, but again, I was broadsided. At breakfast, Sam played with his food, pushing it listlessly around on his plate.

"Something bothering you, Sam?" I asked.

He looked up and studied my face a moment before answering. I became very apprehensive. "I’ve found a place," he muttered. "I'm going to sign the lease today."

"A place? For what?"

"Jack, you know I really appreciate what you've done for me. I'll never be able to repay your kindness and generosity. But I've got to move on... you'll never get your life restarted as long as I'm hanging around."

Hurt, angry, feeling betrayed and abandoned, I didn't have a clue how to respond. "You don't like living here?" I asked, attempting to find my footing.

"I love living here. I love living with you."

"So... why are you leaving?"

"Jack, you need to find yourself a mate, and as long as I'm hanging around you won't do it."

"I thought I'd found him," I muttered.

"What?  I'm sorry, I didn't hear you."

I shook my head. "Nothing."

Sam glanced at the kitchen clock. "Oh damn. I've got to get dressed. I have an eight fifteen appointment with an Abyssinian Cat."

My world had just crashed around me.  I was still sitting at the table when Sam came in dressed and ready to leave.

"Jack? Are you okay?" He asked.

I abruptly stood up and walked past him. "Don't worry about me. I rebound well." I didn't slam my bedroom door, but I did solidly close it.

When I heard him leave, I called my office and left a message for my secretary that I wouldn't be in. I sat on the edge of my bed for I don't know how long.  Then I decided to get a cup of coffee.  Sam's bedroom door was ajar as I passed it. I poured myself a fresh cup and wandered back to his door. Pushing it open, I leaned on the doorframe and memorized the room.  I hadn't been in it since he moved in. I felt that his privacy was important. There was a framed photo on his dresser. I wandered over and picked it up.  It was of the two of us. I remembered the day it was taken. I had to go to the hardware store down on Castro. Sam went with me. As we started to enter the store, this kid with a Polaroid camera stopped us. We posed with Sam's arm around my shoulders. I went on into the store and Sam stayed to buy the photo. I'd never seen it until now. I'd forgotten to ask about it when he entered the store and he didn't volunteer to show it to me.

I studied the photo. We were looking at each other rather than the camera. We looked like two guys in love with each other. How ironical was that? Setting the photo back in place, I picked up the shirt that Sam had discarded on the foot of the bed when he dressed. Holding it to my nose, I memorized his scent again. Tears came to my eyes as I thought about him leaving.  I carried his shirt back into my bedroom, where I crashed in the window seat. I held the shirt, sipped my coffee, and remembered everything I could about Sam.

I must have fazed out. The next thing I knew, Sam was bursting into my room, yelling, "Jack, Jack." When he saw me sitting in the window dressed as I’d been at breakfast, he rushed over, knelt next to me and grasped my arm. "What's going on? Why didn't you go to work? I called to see if you'd have lunch with me and Josie told me that you’d called in sick. Aren't you feeling well?"

"I'm alright. I just don't feel like facing the world. That's all."

"What I told you at breakfast upset you that much."

He was good at stating the obvious. He was still kind, gentle, loving, and so very handsome. I changed the subject by asking, "Why do you have that photo on your dresser?"

I guess I should've added ‘astute’ to the list.  He noticed the shirt I still had clutched to my chest, looked at me and smiled. "Could it be for the same reason you're sitting here with my shirt?"

I shrugged

"Could it be that you're in love with me, like I am with you?"

"You are? Then why are you leaving?"

"Are you admitting that you love me?" He asked.

"Sam, I fell in love with you at the Cove Café."

"Why haven't you said anything?"

"I couldn't. I didn't want you thinking I had ulterior motives in getting you back on your feet."

"But apparently you did."

"I would never have let you know."

"Why not?"

"It wouldn't have been ethical."

"Ethical?"

I changed tactics and asked, "Would you have accepted my help if you'd known I had the hots for you?"

"Hell no!"

"So there you go."  

 

That day was twenty‑five years ago. We've matured... Sam still has a full head of hair, although it’s mostly gray now. And even if he has lines and creases of age on his face, he's as handsome as the evening I first saw him.  The way his smile lights up his face is still as delightful as ever.

 Twenty-five years later, and I can still see the expression on Sam's face as he lost his belligerence when he realized that we'd both said, "I love you."   His expressive brown eyes lit up and his beautiful lips curved into a delighted smile as he leaned down to softly touch his lips to mine. That first kiss, so gentle and tenuous that I, at first, wondered if our lips had even touched. We stared into each other’s eyes. I wondered if he could see the love in mine that I could see in his. When our lips touched again, I dropped the shirt I'd been holding and pulled him down to sit beside me.

"I love you, Sam."  Taking his head between my hands, I kissed the tip of his nose, his eyes, his cheeks, his chin, ending back on his mouth, where he joined me in a tongue exploration. He pulled back long enough to say, "I love the feel of your whiskers on my face."

With one hand on the back of my head while he kissed me, his other hand started unbuttoning my shirt. His fingers drew through the hair on my chest until he found a nipple and then he rolled it between his fingers. Pulling back from the kiss, he spread my shirt open and stared at my chest, then with both hands he cupped each of my muscled pecs as he would a woman's breasts. I sat still and let him explore. His eyes took on a startled look and sought mine. "It's so different than with her." He rubbed his hand through the hair on my chest again and started smiling. "Yes, this is what was missing... the hard muscles... the hairy chest. Oh God, yes," he whispered. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me tightly into a hug. "And you love me, and you're all mine."