Title: The Seducer

Author: Scribe

Fandom: The Drew Carey Show

Pairing: None

Sequel/Series:

Archive: Sure, but ask.

Disclaimer: They're not mine, but I love 'em.

Summary: Strange things happen in this universe--this is one of them. Nigel Wick is suddenly smitten with Drew's friend, Oswald. Needless to say Oswald is bewildered. Yes, more bewildered than normal for him. Oswald's buddy, Lewis, is appalled by Wick's blatant pursuit, and gasp! jealous? Now Oswald is being chased by two men, and Oswald is straight.

Rating: NC-17

The Seduction
Part One: Smitten

By Scribe

Note: It was pointed out to me, gently, that Oswald does NOT have hairy legs. Well, consider this AU, then, 'cause here he does.

Drew peeled the wrapper down on a Slim Jim, took a bite, and laid it on his blotter. Another day with no time to take a decent coffee break, he groused mentally. Wick was being a real bastard about the annual work hours estimations, and he was trying to figure out how to cut hours without unduly hurting anyone’s income.

"Hey buddy!" Drew looked up from his desk to see the familiar, rangy figure of his friend Oswald lounging in the doorway of the office.

Drew frowned. "Oswald, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be working?"

"I am. I just delivered a package from Victoria’s Secret to Steve."

"What the heck is Steve doing receiving personal packages at work?"

"Oh, it was addressed to his house, but I knew he was at work, and I wanted an excuse to goof off." He came over and sat across from Drew. "Lewis wanted me to ask if you were going to be at the Warsaw tonight."

"Oswald, I’m at the Warsaw every night."

Oswald shrugged. "I know. He’s feeling a little insecure these days. Just a second, something’s binding." Oswald stood up and adjusted his shorts. He was wearing his usual brown Global Parcels uniform, but something was different. "You’ve changed your style," said Drew. "Don’t tell me, let me figure it out. Hm. Hat, okay, shirt, okay, shorts..." He blinked, took off his glasses and polished them, put them back on and looked again. "Shorts?"

Oswald’s usually almost knee length, baggy brown shorts were about the size of a pair of Daisy Dukes. What looked like several miles of strong, hairy legs were exposed. Oswald shifted uncomfortably. "Lewis washed them. They were covered in cod liver oil and grape jelly."

"Do I want to know about this?"

"Not unless you’d really enjoy therapy for the next five years."

"Thought so."

"Anyway, my winter uniform is in storage. I have to wear these till I can get another pair." He picked at the fabric. "I wouldn’t mind so much, but they keep riding up my crack." Oswald’s eyes lit on the Slim Jim, then his eyes just lighted. "Hey, beef sticks!" He reached toward it. "Mind if I...?"

Drew snatched up his snack. "Get your own."

Looking hurt, Oswald withdrew his hand. In the process he knocked over a pencil holder and several clattered to the floor. "Oops! I’ll get ‘em." He turned and bent at the waist to pick up the pencils.

At that precise moment Drew heard the door to Wick’s office open behind him. That supercilious, British-accented voice said, "My goodness, what a luscious bum."

Oswald straightened up and turned indignantly. "Hey! I work for a living."

There was a shriek and the door slammed again. "Was that Wick?" Drew inquired.

"Dark-haired guy, well dressed, snotty English accent, looked a little green? Yep."

"He screamed, Oswald."

"Yeah, that’s funny. Usually it’s Lewis that gets that reaction. Well, gotta go. See you this evening."

As he left Drew heard the door creak open again. "Carey?"

Drew swivelled around to face Nigel Wick. "Sir?"

"Carey, I seem to be hallucinating. I could have sworn...," He giggled. "It’s so ridiculous, really, but I could have sworn that the vision who just flounced out of here was your friend, Oswald."

"That vision was my friend Oswald, sir."

"Really?" Wick’s eyes were round. "How extraordinary! Why, he’s beautiful without his pants. I haven’t seen a piece of tail that magnificent since my mum got rid of the family peacock."

"Excuse me, sir, but are you drooling over Oswald?"

"Yes. Oh, don’t look so surprised, Carey." He waved a hand at himself. "Perfect grooming, exquisite style, poncy accent, British boys’ boarding school--I’m a pouf, all right? Bi, to be exact, but I prefer sausage to sushi, if you catch my drift."

"Very fashionable, sir."

"Damn straight, if you’ll pardon the expression." Wick wandered out into the office, and went around to the chair Oswald had just vacated. "He was sitting here, wasn’t he?" Drew nodded. Wick put his hand on the seat, and closed his eyes. "Ooo, it’s still warm." He sat down in the chair, squirming a little.

"Okay, now you’re creeping me out."

"Why Carey," Wick purred, "haven’t you ever heard of love at first sight?"

"I’m afraid I don’t believe in that."

"Then how about lust at second look?"

"Oswald?"

"You know, I never noticed what a musical name that is--Osssss-wald." Wick crooned the name. He sighed, then said matter of factly. "I want him. I’ll have him."

"Mr. Wick, he isn’t like that."

"Come now Carey. He’s a grown man living with a male room mate. He runs around all day in shorts. He’s not married..."

"He was almost married."

"Close only counts in horseshoes, Carey. It doesn’t mean a damn thing in the sexual Olympics. So," He bounced brightly in the seat. "tell him I like him."

"What is this, Sweet Valley High? You tell him."

Wick pouted. "He’s your friend. Find out if he likes me."

"Sir, I doubt you do more for him than register peripherally on his ‘piss off’ meter."

Wick wailed and put his head down on Drew’s desk. "He doesn’t know I’m alive!"

People began peeking through doors. "Get hold of yourself, man."

Another wail. "That’s the problem. I’ve been getting hold of myself for too damn long. I want Oswald to get hold of me, or me to get hold of him. I don’t care. I’m flexible." He looked up suddenly, a familiar wicked light in his eyes. "In more ways than you can possibly imagine."

"Oh man, major creepiness."

"Just tell me what I should do, Carey. I haven’t been this smitten since Darcy Fitzhebert cornered me under the stands at the Eton-Harrow cricket match my senior year."

"How the hell should I know what you should do? I’m not Dr. Ruth. She’s shorter and has an accent." Wick’s bottom lip started to tremble. "Okay, okay! Geez, I can’t stand it when you cry."

Wicks smirked. "Tears--the ultimate weapon." he gloated.

"Look, what do you usually do when you’re courting a woman?"

"Give them the validation number of my VISA card."

"No, no--courting, not ordering delivery."

"Well, I find out what she likes. I send..." A light dawned. The evil glint was back, and this time it brought a rapacious grin with it. "Ah, I see! Romance. Yes, excellent. Thank you, Carey. I’ll invite you to the wedding." He got up and hurried back to his office, muttering busily, "Plots, plots, plots."

Drew picked up the paper he had been working on before Oswald came in. He muttered, "Poor Oswald. He’s gonna make Bambi trapped in the headlights look like Godzilla. Maybe I should warn him." He thought. "Nah. This is gonna be too good to miss."

Part Two: The Declaration

The usual suspects gathered at their favorite table at the Warsaw that evening. Oswald had changed into his usual jeans and a crew neck sweater. He sat, his back to the door, and took a healthy (well, as healthy as it was possible to be for a caffeinated alcoholic beverage) gulp of Buzz Beer and sighed hugely. "Man, it’s good to get back into civies."

"Sorry about your shorts, man," Lewis apologized.

"Ah, don’t mention it. Aside from a lowered sperm count there’s no harm done. In fact, it really helped with my tips."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Ladies kept tucking dollar bills in my waistband."

"I know one person you impressed," said Drew.

Oswald turned white. "Please God, tell me it wasn’t Mimi!"

"God, no, man! Don’t you trust me enough to shoot you if that happens?"

"I’m sorry I doubted you, Drew."

"No, it was Wick."

"Wick?" Oswald looked indignant again. "He called me a bum."

"Oswald, in British slang, bum means ass." Kate informed him.

Oswald looked mollified. "Oh, he called me an ass. Okay, that I can deal with."

"To be specific, he called you luscious ass. That, and a vision and a magnificent piece of tail."

Lewis said, "And what do those terms mean in American?"

Drew saw a delivery boy enter The Warsaw, carrying a long, white, cardboard box. He spoke to Steve at the bar, and was directed over to their table. He plopped the box down on the table between Kate and Oswald. "Got a flower delivery here."

"Drew, you dog!" Oswald grinned, as Kate began to reach for the red satin ribbon that closed the box.

"I didn’t send them."

The delivery boy slapped Kate’s hand. "Ow! Hey!"

"Those aren’t for you, unless your name is Oswald."

The other three chorused "Oswald?"

Oswald had been in the middle of another gulp of beer. He looked around, puzzled. "Present."

The delivery boy handed him a clipboard and pen. "Sign here, Camille." Oswald scratched his name on the clipboard, and the boy left.

"Flowers?" Lewis frowned. "Oswald, are you sick?"

"No."

"Are you dead?"

Oswald thought about it. "No."

"Then why is someone sending you flowers?"

"Check the card and find out. Unless you’ve got a secret admirer, there’ll be a card," Kate declared.

Oswald untied the ribbon and lifted off the lid. A dozen long stemmed roses were revealed. They were lush, half-open pink buds, almost as large as hen’s eggs. "Oh, Oswald!" Kate breathed. "I need to get a picture of this. This is what I want for when I finally get married."

"Yeah, they’re pretty nice." Oswald removed one flower, and held it up along his cheek, smiling.

"But who sent them?" asked Lewis. He looked a bit agitated.

"I dunno." Oswald was rubbing the soft petals over his lips. "See if there’s a card."

Lewis fished in the box and came up with a pasteboard square covered in fine copperplate script. Kate and Drew saw Mr. Wick enter The Warsaw, but their two friends didn’t. Mr. Wick’s eyes zeroed in on Oswald, and he made a bee line.

Lewis read the card, "These roses are the same pink that I hope some day to inspire in your blushing cheeks." Oswald fluttered his eyelashes and took the stem of the rose between his teeth, like a flamenco dancer. Drew sincerely hoped that Mr. Wick would refrain from sitting on Oswald’s lap. "There’s more on the back." Lewis flipped the card over and read, "All four of them. Nigel Wick."

Mr. Wick’s hands settled on Oswald’s shoulders and he said softly, "I take this to mean that you like the flowers?" Oswald swallowed visibly. Wick leaned down and neatly nipped the rose out of Oswald’s mouth with his own teeth. He stood back up, then tucked the bud behind his ear, murmuring, "Ole."

"Uh... yeah. They’re... nice." He held up a hand beside his face and mouthed, "Help!"

Drew commented, "Kate was just saying she’d like to have some just like them for her wedding."

"Oh, I don’t know about pink roses for a wedding." Wick quickly dragged a chair up to the table, between Oswald and Lewis. He set his back to Lewis, leaned his elbow on the table and rested his chin in his hand. Wick gazed up at Oswald flirtatiously. "I think that white roses would be more appropriate for a wedding, don’t you?" His voice deepened on the last two words.

"Uh..."

"Or perhaps something more exotic." Wick put a fingertip against the back of Oswald’s hand, where it rested on the beer bottle, and began to slowly stroke. "Say, magnolia blossoms, to match your lovely skin."

"Um..."

"You have a positively musical voice, did you know that? I could listen to you read the phone book aloud."

Lewis said sourly. "It’s not such a thrill. Trust me--he bogs down on the Gees."

Not looking back, Wick said, "I wasn’t speaking to you, Mop Boy. Have I ever said anything to you about your eyes, Ossss-wald?"

Kate’s shoulders jerked. "Damn, he’s good. That gave me a shiver."

Oswald was gazing at Wick with something akin to the look a sparrow might give the cobra waving over it. "No. What about my eyes?"

"Oswald!" Lewis barked. Oswald jumped, blinking. "Get hold of yourself. He’s a man!"

Wick drew himself up with dignity. "That’s right, I’m a man, and when you’re through playing with the little boys," he shot Lewis a look that singed his hair, "I’ll be waiting. But don’t make me wait too long." Before anyone could react Wick grabbed a handful of Oswald’s curly hair, jerked his head back, and kissed him--hard--with tongue. He righted Oswald, released him, straightened his tie, and said. "Growl." Then he left.

Part Three: The Chapter After The Declaration

"Oswald?" Kate waved a hand in front of Oswald’s face. No reaction. "Yo, Earth to Oswald."

Oswald snapped back to... well, as close to reality as he ever got. "Present?"

"Yeah, what about the present? I think Wick may be serious." She gently touched the flowers still lying in the box. "I know roses have gotten more common these days, but he didn’t stop by the floral department of the MiniMart and get these on a blue light special."

Lewis snorted, "I’d say he’d stopped by the cemetery, but they aren’t in wreath form."

"What’s going on?" Oswald sounded even more bewildered than usual.

"Well, let’s see," said Drew. "Nigel Wick just gave you flowers, declared his intention to have his way with your body, and tried to check your tonsils with his tongue. Typical day."

Oswald frowned. "That was pretty presumptuous of him." Lewis was nodding. "He didn’t even buy me a beer. What kind of guy does he think I am?"

"Cute." Kate supplied.

Oswald grinned. "Oh. Yeah."

Lewis said, "Yeah, well he’s sniffing up the wrong hetro, isn’t he buddy? Oswald is a man's man."

Drew said, "Lewis, a gay guy is a man’s man."

Kate ate a pretzel. "You know, there’s a theory out there that all people are basically bisexual. They just have to find the right person to kick the switch. I don’t know--I can’t think of any woman I‘d rather have sex with than, say, Rob Lowe."

"Not a fair analogy, Kate," said Drew. "He’s so pretty even I'd have sex with him." They looked at him. "Theoretically."

"Excuse me," said Lewis loudly. "Let’s save the fantasies for the Penthouse Forum. We have a serious problem here. Wick has Oswald in his sights. We have to do something."

Drew shrugged. "Why? All Oswald has to do is ignore him. I mean, it’s not like he’s going to rape him or anything."

"I don’t know," Lewis said darkly. "You can’t trust his kind."

Kate gasped. "I’m surprised at you, Lewis. I never would have expected such intolerance from you."

"Well, I’m sorry Kate. But I’ve never felt comfortable around Republicans."

"Look, Lewis, Oswald is a grown man," Drew argued. "I’m sure he can take care of himself." He looked over at Oswald. Oswald was trying to balance his beer bottle on his forehead. Drew sighed and got a notebook out of his pocket, beginning to scribble on the page. "Here’s the number for the rape crises line, just in case."

Part Four: Escalation

"Carey, does Oswald have any allergies?"

Drew put down his pen and looked at Mr. Wick. "Beg pardon, sir?"

"Allergies--does he have any? I don’t want to give him something that will make great pink welts break out all over that delicious white body."

Drew thought. "Well, aside from the obvious ones of hard work and good sense, I can’t think of any."

"Good, good." Nigel scribbled on a notepad. "Godiva chocolates, okay. Now then, as to a sweater. Cashmere, or Angora? I lean toward cashmere myself, but I know Ed Wood used to have a bit of a fetish about Angora." Wick’s eyes got dreamy. "And the idea of having dear Oswald rub that fur all over my naked body..."

"I don’t think Oswald would go for Angora, sir."

"I wasn’t referring to the sweater just then, Carey. He does seem to have a lovely amount of body hair."

"More than I needed to know, sir."

"I’m expecting a delivery. When it arrives, just send it in, would you?" He went back into his office, muttering to himself. "Large? Extra Large? Double X? And what about the size of the sweater??"

Drew shook his head. "Oh man, and I thought Mimi was bad about Antonio Banderas."

"Don’t say his name, pig. You profane it."

Drew sighed, "Mimi, welcome back. Gosh, has it been six weeks already? Time flies."

"Not when you’re scrubbin’ toilets it don’t. Damn, violate one little restraining order. I told ‘em I wasn’t aimin’ at Melanie. If I was, I would have pegged the bitch right in the head with that rock. It just had a note to Antonio tied around it."

"The world just doesn’t appreciate you, Mimi. Thank God."

"What’d I miss while I was gone, pig?"

Drew scratched his chin. "Well, let’s see. Casey retired. Louann in shoes had her baby, right next to the half-off rack. We had the March Madness sale, and took in five percent more than last year. That’s about it. Oh, and Wick is in lust with Oswald."

Mimi scowled. "What, when I'm available?"

"Well, that is a rather pressing argument for homosexuality in general."

"Bite me."

Oswald entered, carrying a clipboard, and a small package. "Hi, Drew. Hi, Mimi. I didn’t know Ringling Brothers was back in town."

"Yeah, they said to tell ya they’re sorry, but ya can’t have your old job back ‘cause they shut down the freak show."

"Gee, Mimi, I hope your mom and dad can handle early retirement," Drew responded. "Oswald, why are you here? Mimi hasn’t joined the ‘Poison of the Month’ club again, has she?"

"Nope. Got a package here for Nigel Wick. From..." He consulted the clipboard. "Nigel Wick."

"He said to take it in."

"Okey dokey."

Oswald went and knocked on the office door. From inside Wick called, "Yes?"

"Delivery from Global Parcels."

The door opened. An arm darted out, grabbed Oswald by the shirt front, and jerked him inside. The door slammed. A moment later there was a yell and Oswald burst out, holding the clipboard over his bottom. He ran to the far side of Drew’s desk as Wick sauntered out of the office. "My, you’re a quick little bunny, aren’t you?"

"Drew, he put his hand on my butt!"

Drew looked at Wick sternly. "Sir?"

Nigel rocked on his heels, looking innocent. "My hand slipped."

"Twice?"

"Mr. Wick, I think you’d better sign for your package and let Oswald get back to work."

"Oh, very well." He held out his hand, and his voice was deep. "Come to me."

Oswald stared at him, then skimmed the clipboard through the air like a frisbee. Wick caught it neatly, and sighed. "You’re so athletic." He pulled out a pen, clicked it with a flourish, and signed. Then he kissed the page and skimmed it back to Oswald. Oswald caught it, held it by the edge, and sidled to the door, keeping an eye on Wick all the way. He backed out.

Wick smirked. "He’s so coy."

"What was so important that you sent it to yourself through Global Parcels?" Drew asked.

Wick was holding the package, and he ripped it open. "Oh good--my stapler. I was wondering where I’d put this. Now, if you’ll pardon me, I have to go see if this box will hold my letter opener, or if I need to get a different size." He bustled back into his office.

Drew sat, shaking his head. Mimi stared after Wick. "Say, he’s really got it bad, ain’t he?

"Godiva chocolates bad."

"Holy crap!" She sniffed. "I wish someone loved me enough to give me Godiva."

"Yeah. The PEZ gift pack just isn’t quite the same, is it?"

Wick came back out of the office. "Carey, do you suppose the light of my life will be at that same quaint cesspool tonight?"

"The Warsaw? Yeah, I suppose so."

"Gooooood." He left.

"Uh oh. That had at least four extra ‘ohs’ in it. I wonder what Wick is planning?"

"Maybe he plans to stalk him, observing his every move for days on end, then follow him home from work and when he gets out of his Ferrari, clap a rag soaked in chloroform over his face before he can scream, and drag him back to a secret location and spend days forcing him to cater to every sexual fantasy, no matter what his skinny blonde bitch wife Melanie... uh. Um. Never mind."

"Uh huh." Drew started scribbling on a pad. "Note to self: do not buy stock in Antonio Banderas’ next picture. Bad investment risk."

Part Five: The Campaign

When Drew got to The Warsaw that evening he found Steve fussing over some new equipment on the tiny bandstand. "Hey, bro. What’s that?"

"A kareoke machine."

"Whoa, gettin’ high class here. I didn’t think you had that kind of cash to invest, or are you renting it?"

"I’m buying it on time. You know how I’ve been wanting one of these for a long time?"

"Yeah. I kinda had a hint when I caught you dressed in sequins, lip syncing Liza Minelli."

"Well, I never could afford to just buy one, and my credit has been screwed. But today a patron just walked right in and offered to spot me for it, and let me make reasonable payments to him, no interest. He just has to be able to use it whenever he wants."

"Wow. Pretty good deal."

"Yeah, it was, after I talked him out of that ‘first born male child’ clause. Anyway, we’re gonna break it in tonight."

"Cool. You have, I hope, removed all Brittany Spears and Celine Dion music from the repertoire?"

"What do you take me for? I burned them."

Drew clapped him on the back. "Forgive me for doubting you." He took off his coat, hung it up, and staked out his usual table near the bandstand. He’d started his first beer before Kate showed up. "Hi. Started without you."

"I hear a lot of men in my life say that, but you could have waited to start drinking." She got a beer and joined him. "So, what’s new on the Wick-Oswald battlefront?"

"Wick launched an attack on Oswald’s flank today. Defense moved swiftly, and there were minimum casualties, but I believe Wick is gearing up for a full scale frontal assault."

"Poor Oswald. He must feel like Austria did back in the thirties, with Hitler eyeing it."

"Yeah, Wick is determined to march right over his border and blitzkrieg the hell out of him."

Oswald and Lewis entered together, deposited their coats, and came to the table. As they sat Steve came over and placed two Buzz Beers before them. Lewis nodded solemn approval. Oswald said, "Thanks, Steve. Boy, you’ve got your timing down perfect. Butt hits the chair, beer hits the table."

"What can I say? Practice makes perfect, and I’ve practiced with you boys more than I ever did with my piano teacher."

As Steve left, Kate said, "So, Oswald. I hear Wick chased you around his desk today."

"He chased me over his desk. I haven’t been pursued like that since someone started a rumor in high school that I had tickets to a KISS concert."

"I told you I was sorry about that," Lewis complained.

"It freaked me out," Oswald continued. "I mean, the only other time a guy patted me on the ass was back in high school when the football coach did it, and that’s all right, what with it being sports and all."

Lewis frowned. "Oswald, you played basketball."

Oswald blinked. "Oh. Yeah. Why do you suppose Coach Bruce...?"

"Hey, a kareoke machine!" Kate exclaimed. "Hot dog! Maybe I can do ‘My Heart Will Go On’." Drew whistled casually, looking up at the ceiling.

Lewis said, "I’ll see if they have anything that speaks of my unique personality."

Mimi, standing nearby, flipping through a folder of available songs, said, "Here ya go, freak. ‘They’re Comin’ To Take Me Away’."

"Hah hah. Very funny, Mimi. There should be something for you in there. Check under ‘Whale Song’."

"Bite me!"

Oswald had taken the folder and was scanning the list. Wick entered, and came to stand quietly behind him. His three friends, knowing a possibly amusing situation when they saw it, said nothing. "Hey, here’s that one by Right Said Fred. ‘I’m Too Sexy For My Shirt’. I could do that, and do kinda a little strrrrrrrip-tease. You know..." He started to shimmy in his chair, singing. "Ahm too sexy for mah love, too sexy for mah love, love’s goin’ tah leave meeee." He started unbuttoning his shirt, teasingly. Wick’s eyes bulged. "And ahm too sexy for mah shirt, too sexy for mah shirt..." He had it all the way open now. Nigel wiped his chin. "So sexy it hurts!" He whipped the shirt open wide.

"Hurt me!" Wick shrieked.

Oswald shrieked too, jerking his shirt closed again. He clutched it like a maiden holding together a ripped bodice in the presence of a romance novel antihero. "Oh, please don’t stop!" Wick moaned. "I’ll pay you."

"Sir, your libido is showing." Drew admonished. Nigel quickly checked his fly. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard they had a new kareoke machine, and I thought, ‘Why not?’"

Steve passed by, "Hey Wick, thanks for the deal."

Lewis said darkly, "Aha. The plot thickens."

Wick smouldered at Oswald. "Along with other, more interesting things." He set a large gold cardboard box in front of Oswald. "Sweets to the sweet."

"He doesn't want your cheap lures, Wick." Lewis growled.

"Cheap?" Kate yelped. "Lewis, that’s the two pound Godiva Lifestyles of the Rich and Spoiled Deluxe Gift Box. It costs more than my first car did."

"Yeah, so? Oswald isn’t interested in..." He trailed off. Oswald had opened the box and was stuffing chocolates into his mouth with both hands.

Drew said, "Oswald, slow down--save some. You can pawn them when you’re low on cash."

Lewis slapped the lid back on the box. Oswald said indignantly, "Hey!"

"You’re going to pork up at that rate," Lewis warned.

"Oh, leave him be. I think he’d be even cuter with a few extra pounds," Wick purred. He smiled at Oswald and licked his lips. "My chubby little dumpling." Oswald pushed the box away, white faced.

Steve passed by again. "Wick, if you want to inaugurate the kareoke machine, you should go ahead. I want to get the party started."

"Right-oh. Mimi?"

Mimi stalked over, and held out her hand. Wick pressed a bill into it, and she stuffed it into her bra. Drew, Lewis, and Oswald screamed, covering their eyes. Squinting, Drew said, "Don’t panic, men. If we’re lucky, the blindness will only be temporary."

Mimi followed Wick up onto the dias. He turned on the kareoke machine, and picked up the microphone. "Hello, you sad, desperate people. Time for a little light entertainment. This first song is dedicated to a certain... special... someone." He stared pointedly at Oswald, who looked pained. Wick pushed a few buttons, and the music started. He sang. "He’s so fine..."

Mime warbled in the background, face grim, "Doo lang, doo lang, doo lang."

"Wish he were miiiiine..."

"Doo lang, doo lang, doo lang."

"That handsome boy over there..." Wick pointed. Oswald slumped in his seat.

"Doo lang, doo lang, frickin’ lang."

"The one with the wavy hair..."

"Doo lang, doo lang, doo lang." Mimi started filing her nails.

"I don’t know how I’m gonna do it, But I’m gonna make him mine. He’s the envy of all the girls, It’s just a matter of time."

Mimi popped in with appropriate ‘doo langs’ after each phrase Wick sang. Oswald kept sinking lower in his chair.

"He’s a soft spoken guy. Also seems kinda shy. Makes me wonder if I. Should even give him a try. But then I know he can’t shy. He can’t shy away forever." Wick shook his finger at Oswald, grinning. Oswald went under the table. "I’m gonna make him mine. If it takes me forever."

Wick bounced down off the stage and crawled under the table. Oswald quickly crawled out, followed closely by Wick, who began to stalk him around the room. "He’s so fine."

Mime snorted. "Oh, yeah?"

"Gotta make him mine."

"Oh, yeah."

"Sooner or later. I hope it’s not later." Wick checked his watch.

"Oh, yeah."

"We gotta get together."

Drew and Kate had been gradually beginning to sway with the beat of the song. Now they chorused, "Oh, yeah!"

"The sooner the better."

"Oh, yeah!"

"Guuuuuuys!" Oswald whined.

"I just can’t wait, I just can’t wait. To be held in his arms." Nigel had Oswald backed up against the bar. Oswald desperately climbed up on it. Wick stood beneath him, serenading.

"If I were a queen," He put a hand on his hip, and arched an eyebrow significantly. "And he asked me to give up my throne. I’ll do anything that he asked. Anything to make him my own. For he’s so fine, so fine..." Wick and Mimi repeated the last phrase, over and over, fading away.

When Wick reached out to him, Oswald stooped, threw his arms around Steve’s neck and jumped into his arms. Wick glared at Steve. "Sir, unhand my intended."

Steve frowned, perplexed. "Intended?"

"You have no idea what I intend to do with him."

Steve dropped Oswald unceremoniously. "You’re on your own."

Oswald scrambled back to the table with Wick in close pursuit. Lewis stood up resolutely, and Oswald scooted behind him. "Back off, you British bum chaser."

Oswald smacked Lewis. "Hey!"

Lewis tossed over his shoulder. "It means ass, remember?"

"Oh. Okay."

"You can’t have him," Lewis declared. "He’s not interested."

Wick eyed him slyly. "I’ll give you one million dollars to sleep with your friend."

Lewis blinked, grabbed Oswald’s arm, and started to push him toward Wick. Then he stopped and said suspiciously. "Show me the money."

"Will you take a check?"

"Hah!" Pause "Personal or travelers?"

"Lewis!" Oswald wailed.

"I mean, Hah! I spit on your offer."

"Yeah, that’s right, Lewis," Drew advised. "Hold out for stock options."

Wick stamped his foot pettishly. "Oh, I know it’s crass, but I can’t help myself! I’m desperate."

"Look, Wick, give up." Oswald peeked from behind Lewis.

"Never!" Wick rubbed his hands together, and crooned, "I’ll have you yet, me proud beauty! MWHAA HA HA HAAAAA!" He slunk out.

Drew shook his head. "Exit, Oilcan Harry, while Pearl Pureheart trembles in modest terror."

"Drew, what am I gonna do?" Oswald pleaded. Once again Drew got out his notebook and scribbled on it. Tearing off the page, he handed it to Oswald. "Who’s this? Detective? Bodyguard? Police officer?"

"Welder. Tell him I sent you and he’ll fit you with a chastity belt."

Part Six: Naming Names

The next evening, Lewis arrived at The Warsaw without Oswald. Drew and Kate, sitting together as usual, greeted him.

"Hi, Damon," Drew said. "Where's Pithius?"

"Thomwhere. We were thopping... I mean, we were shopping, and I lost him. He would insist on going to the bathroom alone. I tried to alert security, but when I was giving the description and got to the age, they sort of lost interest."

Kate, ever the consumer, eyed the bags he was carrying. "So, what didya get?"

"Security supplies for Oswald. Can't be too cautious with the Wicked Wick of the East running around." He dumped the contents on the table.

Drew and Kate started sorting through it. Drew picked up a slender book. "Self Defense: Mashing Mashers." He flipped through it. "Lewis, you got this out of the remaindered bin, didn't you?"

"How could you tell?"

"Well, it's kinda old. Some of the impromptu weapons of defense it recommends are hat pins, button hooks, and corset stays."

Kate pushed several of the items around. "Door bolt. Pepper spray. Air horn. Oh, now that's clever! A good blast of that should scare off anyone."

Lewis put it back in the sack. "Actually that's mine. There's a lab monkey at Drug Co. that's been slinging shit at me lately."

Drew picked up a pair of brown corduroy pants. "And what sort of security device are these? They're so butt ugly that Wick will run screaming when he sees them?"

"No. I couldn't afford a taser, so I figured Oswald could wear those. When Wick tries any funny stuff he just..." Lewis rubbed his palms quickly and violently against his thighs to demonstrate, then pointed, like he was touching someone, "Zap!"

Drew said, "Lewis, I'm pretty sure Wick would interpret passionate self caresses and a spark as a major come on."

Oswald hurried into the bar, with Wick in hot pursuit. The dark haired young man once again sought refuge behind his lanky friend. "Watch him, Lewis. His hands are so fast, he must be a cross between a Vegas card dealer and David Copperfield."

"Oh, I can show you magic, precious," Wick purred. "You wouldn’t believe what I can do with silk scarves."

Oswald perked up. "Really? I like tricks."

Lewis pushed him into a chair. "Not those kind of tricks, Oswald." Lewis glared at Nigel. "Go eat a scone, or something, Wick."

Nigel smiled evilly, licking his lips at Oswald. "Actually, I wouldn't mind a bit of crumpet."

"Bad choice of terms, Lewis," Drew advised. "Try again."

Lewis thought. "Crap. The only other English food analogies I can come up with are way too suggestive."

Kate looked puzzled. "What the hell is suggestive about English food?"

"Our way of naming things, Kate," Nigel explained. He gave his words a sexy tone, "We have Toad in the Hole," Oswald cringed, "Sausage... and Mash, winkles, and of course, the ever popular Spotted Dick." Lewis opened his mouth. "Don't say it. I'd have to hurt you, and it might upset Oswald."

Steve came over and put beers in front of the gang. Oswald peered at the one he'd been given. "Say, this isn't Buzz. It's some sort of fancy imported English ale. I can't afford this."

Steve looked surprised. "You're planning on paying?"

"Well... eventually."

"You now have a standing order for the good stuff." Steve jerked a thumb at Wick. "Compliments of the gentleman." Wick straightened his tie.

"No disrespect meant to your beer, Carey," Wick explained, "Though it is one of the most bizarre concoctions since alchemy went out of fashion. But it's well known that English beer has a much higher alcoholic content than American."

"AHA!" Lewis barked. "You intend to get him drunk and have your way with him!"

"Several ways, actually," Wick watched in approval as Oswald chugged the ale.

"Oswald! Stop that!"

Oswald looked at his friend. "But Lewis, it's free beer."

"Don't you understand? He's trying to get you drunk so he can molest you."

"But Lewis, it's free beer."

Lewis paused. He looked at Wick. "Can he get beer for friends?"

Wick pursed his lips. "If he's very nice to me." Lewis looked torn, but eventually shook his head. "Drat. Ah, well. Drink up, Oswald. Have another. Do you feel the need to visit the men's facilities yet?" Oswald turned pale.

Lewis said ominously, "Oswald, you went to the men's room at the mall. What happened?"

Wick sighed. "Not nearly enough."

Oswald blushed. "All I'm gonna say is that Mr. Wick ended up gettin' his shoes wet when he slipped off the toilet seat."

"You know," said Wick conversationally, "They really should provide handholds in those stalls."

"Back off, Wick," Lewis snarled.

"Oh? And why should I?"

Lewis drew himself up, sticking out what passed for his chest. "Because 'Lewis' means 'famous in battle'."

"Uh, Lewis, I wouldn't put too much stock in that," Drew warned. "Sometimes people's names don't really reflect their personalities."

"How so?"

"Well, for instance, 'Kate' means 'pure'. Ow!" Kate slapped Drew upside the head.

"Yeah, well, 'Drew' means 'manly'. You don't hear me saying that's not appropriate for you!"

Mimi passed by. "Why not? I do. I think it means 'girly man'."

"Yeah, and 'Mimi' means 'longed for child'. The gods laughed," Drew snarled.

Nigel remarked, "Oswald means 'god of the forest'. I can just picture you, Oswald, in some sylvan glen, a wreath of laurel leaves in your hair, a smile on your face... and that's all... My little wood nymph."

Oswald stared at him. "Are you crazy? With the poison ivy out there?" He shuddered expressively.

Wick reached around Lewis and ran a finger down Oswald's chest, heading for his fly. "I could always rub on some calamine lotion." Lewis shoved at him. "Dog in the manger!" Wick sneered.

"Hey!" Oswald protested. "Dog, maybe. But hes not mangey."

Kate looked at Drew, "Will you explain that to him, or shall I?"

Drew examined Lewis, then gave Kate a blank look. "What's to explain?"

Wick drew himself up and said sternly, "Sir, I want to know your intentions toward yon fair youth."

Now Lewis looked blank. "What?"

Wick rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Do you or do you not lay claim, however spurious it may be to his person?"

"What?"

"Do you jump his bones?" Drew supplied.

Lewis and Oswald looked at each other. Lewis looked back at Drew. "Define that term."

"No, he doesn't!" Oswald yelped.

"Then if you two aren't involved," Wick said, "You should be a man and step aside. Don't stand in the way of his happiness, and my carnal fulfilment."

"Why do you think he'd choose you over me?" demanded Lewis. "Just because you're rich, and handsome, and charming, and amusing, and witty, and generous, and... What?" Steve had tapped him on the shoulder. He handed Lewis a butcher knife. "Here, use this, it'll be more merciful. Be sure to get the carotid."

Lewis was aghast. "Im not going to kill him!"

Steve shook his head. "No, I mean that since you seem determined to cut your own throat, this would be quicker. If you two are going to fight over Oswald, take it outside."

Oswald jumped to his feet, face flushed. "No one is going to fight over me!" He tossed his head and stormed off up the stairs to his rooms.

Lewis and Wick gazed after him, then sighed in stereo. "He's beautiful when he's angry." Nigel sighed.

"Didya see how his eyes sparkled?" said Lewis.

"The creep factor just went through the roof." Drew stated.

"He's upset," said Wick. "Perhaps I should go check on him."

Lewis blocked his way. "No, you don't! I'm his roommate." He started up the stairs, leaving a dispirited Nigel Wick at the bottom. Halfway up, he paused and turned. "Say, Wick, do you ever read slash fiction on the net?"

Nigel's eyes darted around, and he said casually, "I... may have accidentally stumbled upon a few dozen sites."

"Well, then, you're familiar with the terms used by slash writers to designate what type of story they're writing. Oswald has been hurt," Lewis grinned in evil triumph. "I'm gonna go comfort him."

"NOOOOOOOOOOooooooooo!"

Part Seven: Lewis? Wait, That's Not Such a Surprise...

Oswald was lying across the bed on his stomach, chin on his crossed arms, moping when Lewis arrived upstairs. Lewis paused to admire a very nice scenic view of Oswald posterior before he came the rest of the way into the room. "Hey, buddy. You okay?"

"What is this strange power I have over men, Lewis? And why the hell can't I have it over women?"

"I don't know, Oswald. Judging from my Star Trek experience, I would say that you've entered an alternate universe where everyone's personality is completely opposite from their usual one, but Drew is still fat, Mimi is still a bitch, and Kate is still easy."

"Wick never even noticed me before. Oh, except to tell me that you and me both were a comfort to fundamentalists everywhere, as living proof that Darwin's Theory of Evolution Through Survival of the Fittest couldn't possibly be true."

"See, Oswald? You shouldn't have anything to do with someone who insults you like that."

Oswald blinked. "That was an insult?"

"How is your Uncle Bonzo, anyway?"

"Fine. Him and Aunt Cheetah are gettin' a divorce, though."

Lewis sat on the bed beside him. "Besides the fact that Wick is a man... sort of.... you have to take into account the suddeness of this. It's just like a bolt out of the blue."

Oswald rubbed his butt. "Yeah, I felt like I'd been struck by lightning when he pinched me."

"It's just a physical attraction for him, Oswald. True love grows deep, over a long period of time. Say," he said casually, "How many years have we known each other, anyway?"

Oswald shrugged, not looking at him. "Most of our lives, I guess. You're like a brother to me."

Lewis winced, then cleared his throat. "How do you feel about the Southern take on... um... family relations?"

Oswald looked thoughtful. "I have a cousin from Alabama who says he goes to family reunions to meet dates."

"And?"

"Come to think of it, he pinched my butt at the last reunion, too! My God, it's everywhere!" Oswald rubbed his rump again.

"That really seems to be bothering you."

"Why do you think I'm laying on my stomach? If there ever was a lay-on-your-back-and-stare-moodily-up-at-the-ceiling moment, this is it, and I can't!"

"Say, that's rough. Would you like me to get you some ice for that?" He paused. "An Absorbine, Jr. rub down?." Pause. "Maybe a nice coconut oil massage?"

"Nah. I'd get all sticky."

"You sure would."

Oswald sat up, sighing dejectedly. "I just don't know what to do about this situation. I mean, Wick is Drew's boss, and Drew is my friend. I don't want to do anything that might, like, get him in trouble, or anything."

"Look Oswald, Drew's a big boy... Man, there's an obvious statement. Anyway, he can take care of himself. You have to think about YOU. I mean, even if you were going to go Greek, it wouldn't be with an over-polished, warm-beer drinking, scone-eating, Yorkshire Pudding-addicted man who puts 'u's in words where they don't belong and says 'shed-ule' instead of 'sked-u-al'. Right?"

"Pardon?"

"You'd go for the All-American type: a hard working, handsome, passionate, blue-collar Joe."

"Do I know any of those?" He thought. "Well, there's Steve, but Mimi would neuter me."

Lewis sighed. "It just bothers me that there's been a couple of times during this fiasco where you've seemed, well..."

"Horrified?"

"No."

"Scared shitless?"

"Curious."

Oswald sat up quickly, yelping when his butt hit the rather firm mattress. "I am not curious! I've never been curious."

"Oswald, correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't you spend three days in junior high unwinding all the string in a baseball to see if there really was explosive material inside?"

"That was my science project!" He puffed out his chest proudly. "I got a C-."

"It was a D+. And aren't you the one who always runs his finger over everything that has a WET PAINT sign on it?"

"Hey, it has to dry sometime."

"And didn't you poke a hole in the bottom of every one of those Godiva chocolates to take an inventory of what kind you had so you could write up a list of what order you wanted to eat them in?"

"But you gotta space out your praline creams or you'll end up with nothing but maples and amarrettos." Lewis stared at him, and he sighed. "All right, all right. I'm a fucking cat, okay? Meow." Lewis shuddered, and made a noise. Oswald looked at him suspiciously. "Did you just purr?"

"Uh, no. I cleared my throat." Lewis cleared his throat. "The thing to remember is, Oswald, that if you ever do decide to... you know... you should do it with someone you trust."

Oswald gasped. "I should do it with Mr. Rodgers?"

Lewis winced. "No, that's not what I meant." He paused. "Though with those sweaters..." He shook his head. "No, no. If you do decide you want to experiment, go to a friend."

Oswald thought. "I don't have that many good friends. There's Drew. No offense to him, I love him, but..." He gulped and said hastily, "I didn't mean I love him, but, you know... Anyway, he's kinda chunky."

"Chunky is a term for peanut butter. Drew is... big boned."

"Whatever. Then there's Kate, but I've already done it with her, and anyway, she's a girl, so that kind of negates the whole purpose. Then there's you..." He trailed off.

Lewis reclined on his elbow and gazed up at him. "Ye-es?"

"Uh... But... But... you're not... gay." Pause. "Are you?"

Lewis sat back up, his voice indignant. "Certainly not! However I am willing to make almost any sacrifice for a buddy's peace of mind. This depending, of course, on whether said buddy wanted to top or bottom." He put an arm around Oswald's shoulders. "And another thing in my favor--I have a background in the field of experimentation. After all, I work at Drug Co. And you should see some of the experiments those guys run with the lab animals off the record."

Oswald looked a little squeamish. "Yeah?"

"Oh, nothing that hurts them, of course. But it can be very interesting." He got a faraway look in his eyes. "There's something oddly compelling about a macaque monkey in a little leather vest."

"Lewis, you gotta stop working the graveyard shift." Oswald stood up and moved out of his friend's reach. "I don't think I could do it with you, Lewis. Sex changes everything in a relationship."

"Maybe you are gay. That sounded too damn sensitive for a normal heterosexual male."

Oswald arched his eyebrows, crossing his arms. "Sometimes we just want to be held."

"I was wrong. You're not gay--you're a woman, and we just haven't noticed it till now."

Oswald's hands flew to his hips. "Am not!" Lewis looked at his pose, then quirked an eyebrow. Oswald quickly removed his hands. "Am not!"

Lewis's voice was sly. "Prove it. Drop your pants."

Oswald started jerking at his belt, muttering, "I'll show you, you rat. Don't believe me, huh? Well, I'll just..." He suddenly realized what he was doing when he saw Lewis going for the Instamatic. "Hey!"

"I was just going to document it for posterity." He looked at the camera. "Can you get 8 x 10s from the negatives for this thing?"

"Lewis!"

"It's not like I'm asking for a poster or anything. Though I heard there's this printing shop downtown that will..."

"I'm not listening to this!" Oswald started for the stairs.

"Wait! Don't go!" Lewis hurried after him, his voice rising. "At least wait till I get behind you so I can look at your butt!"

Oswald got halfway down the stairs when Wick appeared at the bottom. The Englishman stood, arms outstretched to either side, hands on the rails, effectively blocking passage. "Hello, Oswald." His voice was deep. "Why don't you slide down the banister? Just sling one of those long legs over, s-t-r-addle it, and s-l-i-d-e on down. I'll catch you."

Oswald started back up. Lewis appeared at the top of the stair. "Don't listen to him, buddy. Come back up here, where you'll be safe. Have I told you that Drug Co. is looking for research volunteers to test a new cellulite cream that's supposed to firm and tone the buttocks? I was planning to join, and I can get you on."

"Don't listen to him, darling." Wick sniffed. "Your arse is beautiful just the way it is. It should be framed. In fact, I've brought my tape measure with me, so if you'd just let me take a few measurements..."

"Drew!" Oswald wailed.

At his table in the bar, Drew sighed. "Aw, hell, here I go, playin' Jack Armstrong, All American Boy again." He put down his beer, got up, and went to the stairs. "Mr. Wick! Lewis! Back off! Have you no shame?"

"No, absolutely not." Wick peered past Oswald at Lewis. "You?" Lewis shook his head. Wick turned back to Drew. "Complete and utter absence of shame, Carey."

"What about dignity?"

"Please, Carey. After Fergie's toe sucking incident?"

"Well, for heaven's sake, if you have to pant after the poor guy, be a gentleman about it!"

Wick hung his head. "You're right, Carey. We English do have a fine old tradition of genteel, romantic courtship. Robert Browning, Lord Byron, Tennyson and all that. Of course..." He turned lustful eyes back to Oswald. "...there's also Benny Hill to consider."

Steve walked past. "If you run a big chase through here with saxophones, a bald headed midget and bare breasted women, I'm kicking you out."

Wick stepped back, opening up a passage, and bowed to Oswald gallantly. "Please, fair one. Come down from your lofty perch," he shot a glance at Lewis, "Before the buzzard gets you." Oswald eyed the narrow space, his hands going to cover his rump. "Do not fear, I shall not molest you. Not in public, any way. Your delectable posterior is safe for the nonce."

"Yeah," Lewis growled. "but is it safe from the nance?"

"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but my lawyer can bust your balls. Watch that sink hole you call a mouth." Wick warned. "Oswald?"

Oswald edged cautiously past Wick. Nigel didn't grab at him. His fingers twitched worse than a junkie who was two days dry with a bag of China White in front of him, but he didn't grab. Instead he waved Oswald over to the gang's regular table again, and held his chair for him. Oswald started to sit, but paused halfway down. Bitter experience had taught him that a chair that was there when you started down might not be there when you approached landing. Wick cooed, "That's all right, lamb. You just squat there as long as you like. I'll just stand here and compose a sonnet to your bum." Oswald sat.

Kate, on the other side of the table, said, "I've had guys write poems about my body parts before."

Drew joined them. "Yeah, Kate, but I'm not sure limericks count in the grand scheme of things."

Wick folded his hands on the table and said solicitously, "Are you feeling safer now, with your friends around you?"

"Yeah, kinda." Oswald eyed Lewis warily as he took his seat next to him. "Some of them."

"Taking Carey's good advice..." Wick paused, looking astonished. "Good Lord, I can't believe I'm saying that. I can probably make a fast fifty selling the story to the World Weekly News."

"Nah, too unbelievable." Lewis dead panned. Drew threw a pretzel at him It might have been effective if Oswald didn't catch it and eat it.

"Neatly done, pet. In any case, I am doing the proper thing, and stating my intentions publicly. Oswald, I'm going to court you."

Oswald looked dismayed. "But what have I done? Won't you get in trouble for a frivolous lawsuit?"

"Luckily I don't find brains all that sexually stimulating. I mean that I'm going to woo you, chat you up, take you out, romance you..."

"Put the moves on you." Lewis scowled.

"Yes, but in a very sophisticated, respectful way. Oswald, will you have lunch with me tomorrow?"

"I hafta work," he stalled.

"You do get a lunch break?"

"Well, yeah."

"Come by the office tomorrow at noon."

"I dunno."

Wick sighed. He leaned a little closer, made his eyes enormous, and batted lashes that suddenly looked about three inches long. "Please?"

"Oo. Okay."

"Splendid!" He got up, and took Oswald's hand. He kissed it, saying "You won't regret this." Then he turned around and strutted out of the Warsaw, singing along with the song someone had just fired up on the kareoke machine. "I'm gonna ma-ake you luuuve me.... Oh, yes, I will! Oh, yes, I will!"

Lewis looked hurt. "I can't believe you did that."

"But Lewis, he gave me puppy dog eyes. You know I can't resist puppy dog eyes." Lewis tried it himself. "I meant cocker spaniel puppy dog eyes. Not bloodhound puppy dog eyes."

"Rats."

"Yeah, they kinda look a little beady, too."

Kate was curious. "You're really gonna go out with Wick?"

"It's just lunch, Kate. I mean, it'll be broad daylight, and on my lunch hour. Nothing can happen under those circumstances, right?"

Drew ate a pretzel. "You could do a speech on that. I think the Annual Convention of the Managers of No-Tell Motels has a slot open on their Afternoon Delights panel."

Part Eight: Indoor Picnic

The next day Wick bustled into the office carrying an enormous picnic basket. Drew eyed it and said, "A picnic, sir?"

"Of course. What could be more romantic? A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou beside me..."

Drew peeked into the basket. "Whoa. Ol' Omar didn't say anything about cherries, pate', brie, and chilled oysters on the half-shell. Are you sure those things are gonna be safe by the time lunch rolls around?"

"You seem to have forgotten my mini-fridge, surprisingly enough, as my chilled Milky Ways have an odd habit of growing legs and walking off." Drew looked around innocently. "As I was saying, sitting on the ground. Together. Feeding each other choice tid bits..." His eyes were getting dreamy.

"...ants, gnats, hornets, frisbee catching dogs that pee on you hamper..."

"Not when you have the picnic inside, Carey," he said, looking wise.

"Oswald isn't gonna want to be shut up in a private room with you, sir. You'd need a good excuse not to take him out to the park."

"How about rain?"

Drew looked out the window. "But the weather is beautiful."

"Not for long."

Drew looked at him sternly. "Sir, have you sold your soul to the devil again?"

"Not this time, but you wouldn't believe how expensive cloud seeding is."

Drew peeked in the basket again. "Hey! A whole box of Slim Jims!" He slipped his hand inside. "Mind if I...?" Wick snapped the lid shut on his hand like a mousetrap. "Ow!" When Wick relented and lifted the lid, Drew jerked his hand back and blew on his fingers.

"Those are for Oswald," Wick said archly.

"What? All of 'em?"

"I don't know how many it will take... I mean how many he will take. I must go set up." Wick bustled into his office just as Mimi arrived.

Mimi watched him go, hands approximately where her hips would have been if she wasn't basically ovoid. "I can't believe he's goin' through all that trouble for Geek Boy."

"Hey!" Drew said indignantly. "Oswald is not Geek Boy. Lewis has that title locked up. Oswald is more kinda..." He thought. "Actually, Geek covers it pretty well, but let's say Dweeb for the sake of variety." He got up and headed toward the door.

"Hey! Where you goin'? You're not due for a break for another twenty minutes."

"I have to go."

"No, you have to wait for your proper time."

"Mimi, I have to go."

"No ya don't! I'll report you to Wick."

Drew walked over to Mimi's desk. "Listen carefully: I have to go!" He looked pointedly at her wastebasket, and reached for his fly. "But if you insist I not leave the room..."

"For every tooth unhooked on that zipper, you lose one out of your mouth! Get out of here!" Drew smirked and went to the men's room.

A few minutes later he stalked into Wick's office. Wick was arranging a bouquet of wrapped beef sticks in a Lalique vase, humming to himself. "What do you want, Carey? I'm busy getting ready for Oswald's arrival."

"I can believe that, sir. I just wanted to ask you about a couple of little items I ran across in the trash in the men's room."

Wick froze, trying to look casual, but he was sweating. "Why, Carey. What were you doing in the trash in the men's room?"

"Last Lifesaver, slippery fingers, short story. That's not important. What is important is that I want to know if you can tell me anything about these." Drew held up two objects. There was a brief sting of suspenseful music that caused him to look around curiously. Then he shrugged and continued. "A used disposable hypodermic syringe,and an empty Rohypnol bottle!"

Wick was pale, his eyes darting rapidly around the room. "Why... why..." He swallowed. "Good Lord! Someone must be planning on drugging and kidnapping Mimi!"

"Nah. They'd just use the tranquilizing darts, like always. Besides, she was tagged and released only eight months ago, she isn't due for a check till June." Drew dropped the incriminating items in the wastebasket. "Sir, I think I need to examine those beef sticks you're planning on giving to Oswald."

Wick cupped a hand to his ear. "Carey! Is that a Frosty Freezie truck I hear outside?"

Drew started quickly out the door, then paused, turning back. "Very clever, sir, but we all know that the Frosty Freezie trucks don't start making their rounds till March 10th, and it's only the 2nd."

Wick gasped in pleased surprise. "They must have started early!"

Drew beamed. "Yeah!" and started toward the door. He stopped again, frowning. "Wait a minute! I don't believe you."

Wick pouted. "Why not?"

"Because my life doesn't get that good." He snatched a beef stick out of the bundle before Wick could stop him and examined it. "Aha! Just as I suspected! A teeny, tiny hole, cleverly hidden in the dot of the i in Slim." He glared at Wick. "For shame."

Wick looked at him blandly. "Stuff it, Carey. I've already told you: I don't do shame."

"No, but you could do about five to ten for this, and I have a sneaking suspicion that 'Inside' you'd be a girlfriend instead of a boyfriend." Drew grabbed the beef sticks. "I'm disposing of these. You get this one break, but if you try anything again, I'll... I'll... I'll tell Mimi that you have secret fantasies about her."

"But I do."

"I don't mean the one's involving the runaway semi and her fixing her stocking in the middle of a crosswalk."

"I usually favor a garbage truck. Much more symbolic." Wick sighed. "All right, I'll do this the hard way." He smiled suddenly. "The 'hard way'. Doesn't that sound absolutely lovely? I'm going to do things the 'hard way' with Oswald," he drawled.

"You're a lecher, sir."

"Yes. Would you like to see my official permit?"

"They issue permits for that?"

"Only in our club." He flipped his lapel and showed Drew a button.

"Ill? I can believe that."

"No, no. I--L--L. International League of Lechery."

"Shouldn't that be ILOL?"

"Shall we discuss the corrolation between when you want your next vaction and the approximate time Beelzebub goes ice skating on the pits of Hell?"

"Nice button. Better than a smiley face."

"Look, Carey. I'll..." He shuddered, making a face. "behave myself. Just don't tell Oswald about the little date aid."

"Date aid? Rohypnol in the Slim Jims, and he calls it a date aid. And I suppose there's Spanish fly in the brie."

"Of course not."

"Aha, then it's in the champagne."

"Don't be ridiculous."

Drew reached into the hamper. "Suppose I was to feed these oysters to Mimi?"

"She'd need to brush her teeth. Other than that..."

"Of course, oysters just aren't right without..." He whipped out a bottle, to another suspenseful sting of music.

This time Wick looked around, too. "How do you do that, Carey?"

"I dunno. I wish I could train it to happen whenever I'm playing strip poker with Kate. I can see it now. 'Well, Kate, I either have nothing or... a straight flush!" Instead of the dramatic sting there was a muted-trumpet 'Whah-hah-hah' sound. "Figures. Any way, if I gave her the oysters..."

"Oh, go ahead. See if I care."

"I'd have to give her the.--chili sauce."

"No!" shrieked Wick.

"Just as I thought... the old 'aphrodisiac-in-the-condiment' ploy! I'll take this, too."

Wick's shoulders slumped in defeat as Drew left the office, and he muttered to himself. "Well, that's it. Plan C: I drop an asperin in his coke."

"The nerve of that guy!" Drew dropped the bottle and Slim Jims in the wastebasket in the outer office. "Why can't he just get Oswald decently drunk, like any other horny dog?" Oswald came into the office. "And here's the Great Obsession himself. Hey, Oswald."

"Hey, Drew."

Drew looked Oswald up and down. "Oswald, you're dripping!"

"Yeah." He squeezed a few drips out of his sleeve. "It was the funniest thing. The weather was absolutely beautiful. Then a little plane flew overhead and boom! Downpour. So, any idea where Wick's planning on taking me?"

"With this freak weather change? I'd say to the moon and back. Look, before you eat anything, make Wick taste it, okay?"

"If you say so, Drew."

Wick came out of his office. When he saw Oswald he clapped his hands joyously. "Oh, my! Wet T-shirt contest! You win, Oswald."

"It's raining outside."

Wick's eyes opened wide in astonishment. "No? Really? Well, you really should get out of those wet things right away."

"Uh... no."

Wick shrugged. "It was worth a try. Come along, beautiful."

"Aren't we going to lunch?"

"I have a lovely picnic basket."

"But it's raining."

"Yes, I kno-ow. We'll have to stay inside."

"In your office?" Oswald rubbed his rump, obviously remembering the last time he'd been in Wick's office. "I'm not so sure about that."

"Suit yourself. I'll just go check if the beer in the mini-fridge is properly chilled."

Oswald didn't quite tailgate, though Wick would have hardly objected. Mimi came in just in time to witness the departure. She snorted, shaking her head. "Crap. Well, I ain't kickin' in for another shower present for him, not after that two bucks I donated for his wedding present with the bimbo went down the drain."

"It's just a festive lunch, Mimi."

"Festive, huh? Then I guess Wick is gonna blow up those condoms I saw him buying for balloons."

Drew tried to settle back down to work, but it wasn't easy. He kept an ear cocked toward Wick's office, ready to spring into action, or at least grab a camera, at the least sound of distress. Nothing happened. A half hour later Oswald came out of the office, saying, "Okay. I'll see you then."

"Oswald, c'mere." Oswald went to Drew's desk. "What happened?"

Oswald shrugged. "We had lunch. He was a perfect gentleman. Well, unless you count that thing he did with the cherry stem and his tongue, and the look he gave me while he was doing it."

"And what was that 'see you then' bit?"

"He's gonna come watch me bowl on league night."

Drew sat back. "Nigel Wick is going to go into a bowling alley without someone holding a gun to his head? I may have been wrong, Oswald. This might be love."

"No, I think he's just interested in sports. He kept muttering 'Take an interest in his leisure pursuits.' Any way, you and Lewis, and Kate will be there, too."

"Yeah, but he ain't gonna be looking at our butts when we bend over to throw the ball."

Oswald left, and Drew got back to work. He heard a strange rustling sound. He tried to ignore it, but it came again and again. He looked all around his desk, but couldn't find any source. Finally he turned around. "Say, Mimi, do you hear..." He froze.

Mimi was peeling the wrapper off a Slim Jim. The rustling noise was explained by the dozen or so empty plastic wrappers littering her desk. She took a bite and said, "Hear what, pig?"

Drew grinned. "Oh, nothing. Nothing at all. Say, Mimi, how long has it been since you took a nap in the middle of the day?"

She chewed and swallowed. "Not since kiddiegarden. Why?"

"No particular reason."

"Ya might as well quit starin' at the beef sticks, pal. I found 'em, and they're all mine. You ain't gettin' any."

"I wouldn't dream of asking."

To Drew's horror, Mimi shook chili sauce on the Slim Jim before she took the next bite. "Mimi! That... uh, that stuff'll give you ulcers."

"Crap. I need it. These are the plain kind, and I like my meat sticks hot and spicy. I'm just glad these are the long kind."

Drew winced. "Eat enough of that sauce and those last two sentnaces will take on a whole new meaning, and I don't want to be here to witness it, much less participate."

Mimi started to fan herself. "Damn. Is it hot in here, or is it just me?"

"Oh, man. This is gonna be a race to see which kicks in first: the Slim Jims, or the chili sauce."

Mimi peered at Drew. "Ya know somethin', pig? You're not quite as nauseating as I always thought."

Drew stood up quickly. "I'm taking an early day." He stuck his head in Wick's office. "Sir? If you value your life and sanity, lock your door until you hear snores."

It was a narrow escape. Mimi pinched Drew's butt as he hurried past her, but he remember that he had the Lava soap at home, so he didn't let it bother him too much. As he got out of the elevator of the ground floor, he met Larry, Mrs. Lauder's pet gigolo. "Carey, have you schedualed that long weekend for me yet?"

"Look, Larry, I told ya. One more long weekend and I have to declare you a government institution."

"Mrs. Lauder is going to be VERY disappointed if I can't get that time off. I promised to show her some of the yoga moves I've been practising, and I've already rented the videocam."

Drew scowled. He was pretty sick of the way Larry took advantage of being the boss lady's lap dog, but wasn't ready to risk his own job by slapping him down. Then his expression smoothed out, and he said, "Okay, Lar. Just go on up and tell Mimi to write it in on the schedule for me."

"She'll do it?"

"Oh, yeah, believe me, she'll do it."

Drew watched Larry enter the elevator, and left muttering to himself. "Good thing he's been taking yoga. I have a feeling that the only way he's gonna survive this is by being flexible."

Notes: 'tosser' is British slang for an idiotic, dispicable person. Or sometimes for... Well, 'toss' means 'masturbate'. You do the math.

Warning: Some may find the religious stereotypes I use in this story offensive. If you do, you probably shouldn't be reading it, anyway. Let me state that I am a Baptist, and I am not directing this at any one denomination. The Righteous Rollers are, instead, an exaggeration of certain types of people who concentrate almost wholely on the rules instead of the deeper meaning of Christianity. We all try to do right, but no one is perfect. Perfection, in our human state, is impossible, and it is vanity to think you can achieve it. {/soapbox}

Part Nine: In the Gutter

"We're gonna bo-ow-owl t'night! We're gonna bo-ow-owl t'night! We're gonna..."

Drew's groan could be heard over the combined voices of Lewis, Oswald, and Kate. "That's the last time I let you people watch a perky, pseudo-fifties musical! I swear, I'm going to check out every copy of Grease II I can find and microwave them. It'll be worth the fines."

Lewis reached forward from the back seat, where he was sitting with Oswald, to slap Drew on the shoulder. "Sorry, buddy, but there's a surprising lack of songs about bowling."

"Yeah," said Oswald. "I think that's a grave oversight on the part of the world wide music industry."

Drew groaned again. Kate said, "Now wait a minute, Drew. Think of the music video possibilities. 'NSYNC all at separate lanes, wiggling their bottoms in unison."

"Yeah." Lewis's voice was dreamy.

"Don't mention that to Wick," said Drew. "He'll start a petition." He pulled into the lot in front of In The Gutter and parked. As they got out he looked around and remarked, "I like coming here for the same reason that plain girls like to hang around with really homely girls--these hoopties make my POS look good. Oswald, where's the rest of your team?" Oswald's team consisted of him, Lewis, Kate, and Pooch and Desmond, two of Oswald's fellow Global Parcels delivery men.

"They'll be inside. Pooch will be in the lounge getting fueled, and Desmond will be trying to put the make on whatever double X chromosome carrier happens by."

As he waited for Drew to unlock the trunk so he could get his bowling ball, Oswald tugged at his waistband. "Whoa, hang on, Urkel," said Kate.

"I have to, Kate," Oswald explained. "I didn't want Wick staring at my butt in a pair of tight jeans, so I borrowed a pair from Drew."

"Why didn't you wear a belt?"

"I did. I borrowed it from Drew, too. I would have tightened it, but Drew wouldn't let me punch any more holes in it."

The four friends went into the bowling alley, all but Drew lugging a bowling ball case. Inside, Oswald said, "Wait up, you guys. I gotta rent a pair of shoes."

"I don't know why you don't just go ahead and buy a pair," commented Drew.

"What's the point of spending money on shoes that are only appropriate for one thing?" argued Kate, as Oswald took his shoes. "I mean, where else would someone wear a pair of two-tone puke green and piss yellow clodhoppers?"

"Kate, this is Oswald we're talking about."

"Oh, yeah. Oswald, the next time you need a pair of dress shoes..."

"Hello, handsome." Everyone turned at the sound of the purr, Oswald clutching his shoes at chest height, as if for protection. Wick was almost upon him, eyes gleaming. "Oo, what big shoes! What size do you take, Sasquatch?"

Oswald checked the back of the shoes. "Size thirteen."

"Mmm. You know what they say about men with big feet?"

Lewis pulled Oswald away, snarling, "Go cruise Ringling Brothers!"

"Been there, done that, ran a comparison study on the acrobats." Nigel smiled nostalgically. "Gotta love men in tights."

They made their way over to where Oswald's team was gathered. Wick eyed the brightly colored satin shirts each member was wearing, then remarked to Oswald, "I don't believe any of your group ever watches BBCAmerica."

"Probably not, but how could you tell?"

"If they'd heard any British slang I doubt they would have named their team The Tossers."

Oswald opened his case and pulled out his bowling ball. It was a black marbled affair with his initials on it in silver, and red 'speed' flames on the side. His friends had tried to explain to him that there was no way you could figure which way was 'right side up' on a bowling ball, since it spun every which way when thrown, but he'd insisted. "My, what a butch ball," Wick said.

Lewis glared at him. "It's looking a little dull, Oswald. Maybe you sould buff it."

Wick jumped up and down, waving his hand. "Oo, oo! Let me polish your ball, Oswald."

Lewis grabbed at the ball, growling, "If anyone polishes his ball it's going to be <IME!"

"Please!" Oswald clutched his recreational equipment (his ball, you perverts!) "I'll polish my ball myself!"

"But Oswald, precious, that's so lonely."

"This is going to be a long evening," Drew remarked.

"Who are we bowling against tonight?" Lewis asked.

Oswald consulted a sheet. "We're up against the Righteous Rollers."

Wick perked up, and smoothed his hair back. "Biker gang?"

Kate shook her head. "Nope. These are a fringe group that believe that the Spanish Inquisition were pretty nice guys, except for the fact that they were Catholic, which automatically makes them suspect as possible devil worshipers."

Lewis frowned. "I thought that was the Holier Than Thou Rollers?"

"Who set up this tournament?" Drew asked. "You were up against the Pentacostal Pin Killers last week, and the Baptist Ball Burners the week before."

"Those Baptist broads were something else," said Lewis. "I still say we should disallow prayer before throwing. It's an unfair advantage."

"You mean like getting Kate to shake her boobs every time a deacon came up to throw?" Drew asked.

"Can I help it if I needed to adjust my bra at particular times?" she protested.

"What bra?"

A group of five men in black, long sleeved, cotton shirts approached. They were uniformly middle aged, sober faced, and short haired to the point where trying to guess who had a receeding hairlines was a moot point. The leader announced, "We are here to win this match for the glory of God, and the silver cup, which will look very nice behind the podium in the sanctuary. It can also double as the Holy Grail when we do our annual recreation of the Last Supper."

Lewis mumbled, "Practical Christianity."

Pooch, bearing a tray full of beers, arrived followed by Desmond (a handsome black man with dredlocks), who had his arm around a giggling woman wearing enough make-up to have supplied Tammy Faye for a year in her heyday, came over.

Pooch said cheerfully, "First round's on me!" Each of the Tossers, Drew, and Nigel took a cup. Pooch offered the tray to the Righteous Rollers. "A drink in the spirit of friendly competition."

The head Roller said stiffly, "We do not consume alcohol. It is against our religion, and is the sweat of the devil."

"Oh, you've tasted Buzz Beer," said Wick.

The head Roller was examining Desmond closely. "We generally do not compete with foreigners."

Oswald blinked. "But Nigel isn't bowling."

Kate said, "I think he meant Desmond."

Oswald blinked again. "What has he got against people from Akron?"

"Sweet, innocent baby," Wick cooed.

Lewis said belligerently, "He's on our team."

"Very well. If you will ask the ladies to leave, we can begin."

"Who the hell you callin' a lady, tight ass?" snarled the chippie. She stomped off, ignoring Desmond's sad pleas.

"I'm not leaving," Kate said. "I'm on the team."

All of the men drew themselves up. "It is against our religion for women to compete in athletic eventsk" said the head Roller.

"Good thing I don't go to your church, isn't it?"

The Roller's all shook their heads in unison. Lewis cocked a hand to his ear. "What are you doing?" Drew asked.

"Listening to a sound like five peas rattling around in five institutional sized tin cans."

The head Roller said firmly, "We cannot in good conscience compete with a team that has a female member."

"Fine," said Drew. "Then you forfeit. The Tossers win."

"Ray!" Oswald started to do a happy dance. His pants started to slip. Wick whipped out an Instamatic. Oswald stopped, clutching at his pants. Wick pouted.

The five men put their heads together and whispered. Finally the head Roller said, "We consulted our canon and came to the conclusion that losing was against our religion, too. We'll bowl."

"What a surprise." Drew started to drink the beers that the Rollers had turned down.

The game started. It was fairly obvious that the two teams were evenly matched.

One of the Rollers cast his eyes upward and said piously, "May my ball's path be like my life--straight and true."

Lewis went to the line, looked at his ball, and said, "May your path be unlike my life--stay out of the gutter."

One small, thin Roller, had been watching Kate with watery eyes. He sidled up to her and said, "You have wide, child-bearing hips."

She stared at him. "Do you pick up many women this way?"

"If you would just stop wearing make-up, foreswear alcohol, grow your hair, wear nothing but dresses that reached below your knees, and dedicate yourself to keeping my home in order, bearing my children, and obeying me, I could marry you and and assure you of eternal life in heaven at my side."

"You think that's an incentive? I thought you guys married young. Why is such a catch as you still un-hooked."

"Oh, I was married. My wife objected when I wanted to take her paycheck. Women are unfit to handle money, of course. I was going to invest it in a nice new truck."

"She needed a new car?"

"Oh, no! Women are notoriously unfit to drive cars. I was going to drive her wherever I felt she needed to go."

"And her reaction to this was?"

"Well, when I woke up in the hospital, I found that she had taken the kids to Reno to get herself a divorce and become a lesbian."

"I've always noticed that the two things go hand in hand," said Drew.

"What makes you think she was going to be a lesbian?" asked Kate. She couldn't help herself. It was like the urge to slow down to look at a train wreck.

"She had shown tendencies," the man said ominously. "She had begun to shave her legs."

Oswald frowned. "I thought it was usually the other way around?"

"No, Oswald," Lewis informed him. "If they're letting their leg hair grow they are on their way to becoming hairy-legged Communist Satan worshiping feminists."

The little man smiled. "Oh, then you're read our newsletter."

There was a clicking sound. Drew, Lewis, and Kate looked around to see Wick busily snapping away. Oswald was up to bowl, and had squatted down to get a better look at the pin lie. Drew's pants were a bit below half mast, and the bowling alley was getting the benefit of that Appliance Repairman fashion staple--the sideways half smile. Lewis said sharply. "Oswald! VBC."

The Rollers looked puzzled. One said, "Vacation Bible Class."

"Visible Butt Crack," Drew informed them. Oswald jumped up.

Wick stuck his tongue out at Lewis. "Spoil sport."

The game came very close. Finally there was only one Righteous Roller left to go. He threw, and knocked down half the pins. The Tossers groaned. Wick patted Oswald on the thigh. "Why so sad, my buttercup?"

"Nigel, all he has to do is knock down two pins and he wins!"

"So? He could miss."

"Are you kidding? They're all bunched up, and he's a good bowler. What could make him miss all of those?"

"I could."

Oswald stared at him. "You wouldn't, like, goose him, would you?" Wick shuddered. "Then how would you do it?"

"If I do make him miss, and your team wins this game, will you go with me to the Valentine Dance at the Indulgence Club?"

"Oswald!" Lewis gripped his shoulder. "That's that swanky, exclusive gay club! You can't get in unless you're rich and pretty. Say no."

"Can you really do it?" Oswald asked. Wick nodded. "I owe it to the guys, and Kate's hips. Okay, Wick. Make him miss, and I'll go out with you."

Nigel squealed. "Smashing! Come with me." He took Oswald's hand and led him up on the raised section in front of the alleys. He stood beside the Righteous Roller just as he began to make his approach. Wick said loudly, "Kiss me, my fool!" grabbed Oswald, slid a hand down the loose back of his pants, and laid a tongue filled lip-lock on him.

The Roller's ball did not go into the gutter--not on his lane, at least. It did go into the gutter two lanes over. He stood gaping at the two men beside him. Then he looked at the equally stunned head Roller, pointed at Oswald and Wick (who was still trying to check Oswald's tonsils with his tongue) and said, "Hank, are those some of them Homosapiens you been telling us about?"

Part Ten
Desperately Seeking Spiffiness

When Drew and Kate arrived at the Warsaw, Lewis and Oswald were already sitting. There was a large envelope lying in the center of the table, and both men were regarding it suspiciously over their beer bottles. Kate and Drew plopped down, Drew signaling to Steve for a round. "Hey, guys." They continued to stare at the envelope. Drew looked at Kate. "I haven't seen them concentrate that hard since they had the bet about which side of the butter knife a pat would slide off."

Kate waved a hand before the two men's faces. "Hey, guys. What is this?"

They blinked. Lewis said, "It came this morning, for Oswald. The handwriting looks like Wicks. I'd say it's a letter bomb."

Kate cocked her head, studying the shape of the envelope. "Or a card. Or..." she held up a finger. "An invitation!"

Oswald frowned. "Why?"

"Well," Drew twisted the cap off his bottle and took a swig. "That dance at Club Indulgence is a big wing-ding, Oswald. It's formal."

Lewis frowned. "You mean 'no shirt, no shoes, no service'?"

Kate snorted. "From what I've heard about the Club Indulgence, getting serviced is not a problem."

Drew poked the envelope toward Oswald. "Open it, Oswald."

Oswald gingerly picked up the envelope, turning it to examine it. He pointed. "Look, someone stuck their chewing gum on it."

Drew looked. "That's not gum, Oswald. That's a wax seal."

Oswald examined the wax blob. "Hey, yeah! There's a little picture etched into it." He squinted. "A background of flames and a champagne bottle sitting on a bed of money and..." he showed the envelope to Lewis, "what are those?"

Lewis looked. "Condoms."

Drew took a swig of beer. "A pictograph of the club's philosophy."

Oswald gaped. "Do you mean that Wick intends to take me to a den of iniquity? A place dedicated to the hedonistic pursuit of sybaritic, sensual pleasure, in an atmosphere of no consequences?" Lewis, Kate and Drew nodded. "C-o-o-l."

He peeled the wax up carefully and opened the envelope, then drew out the invitation. It was a single, unfolded card in gleaming, pristine white. "Huh," Lewis said. "It's all bumpy. You'd think that such an exclusive place would have... I dunno, daintier stationary."

"That's engraved, Lewis," Kate informed him.

"Is that expensive?" Oswald was running his finger gently over the engraving.

"Let me put it this way, you remember how much the invitations to our almost wedding cost?"

Oswald winced. "Yeah."

"If we'd have had them engraved, we would have had to sell a kidney each to afford them."

"Wow. The writing and decorations are in red and silver, very stylish."

"The hearts and roses are nice," commented Drew, "But the handcuffs and riding crops make me a bit nervous."

"You are cordially invited to the Valentine's Day Soiree at Club Indulgence, February 14th. 7:00, cocktails, 8:00 Dinner, 9:30 till whenever, Dancing--and whatever. Formal attire required, till 9:30. Oh, and Wick wrote a personal message. He'll pick me up here at 6:30, and..." Oswald trailed off, blushing.

"What?" Lewis asked, suspiciously.

"He asked me to be sure not to get a suit with tails, because my butt is too fine to be covered up." Oswald smiled. "I haven't had a date where I really needed to dress up."

"And who's fault was that?" Kate murmured.

Oswald ignored her. "I wanna look spiffy."

While Drew and Kate winced at the term, Lewis held up a finger. "A-ha! You don't have a tuxedo, and you can't afford to rent one. You can't go."

"I have the tuxedo I wore to my senior prom."

Drew shook his head. "I don't think Club Indulgence's dress code allows powder blue polyester tuxs with frilly shirts and satin cummerbunds."

Kate peeked into the envelope. "Wick thinks of everything." She pulled another card out of the envelope. "He also sent a gift certificate to Bridals 'n Formals."

Lewis frowned. "Why not a certificate for Tux R Us?"

Kate shrugged. "We all know what his immediate intentions are. Maybe he's hinting at his future intentions."

Oswald looked at the certificate. "Wow. He's really shelling out on this, isn't he?"

Lewis sighed. "You're really going through with this, aren't you?"

Oswald frowned. "Of course. I promised, I can't back out."

Kate swatted Oswald. "You didn't have that problem when you promised to help me move, then didn't show up."

"I explained that to you, Kate. I couldn't help it if that was the day Desmond got Wrestleriot on pay-per-view."

"How about when you promised me you'd help me clean out the monkey cages at Drug Co?" asked Lewis.

Oswald looked shocked. "There was monkey poo involved, Lewis. How can you expect anyone to keep a promise when there's monkey poo involved?"

"Well, there wasn't any monkey poo involved the last time you got snowed in over here and you swore to me that you wouldn't drink the last beer," said Drew. Everyone looked at him. "You're right. What was I thinking of?"

Oswald gathered up the invitation and certificate. "I think they stay open to nine. I might as well go now."

Lewis drained his beer and stood up. "I'm going with you."

"Why?" asked Drew. "You don't need a tux."

"Not now, but if Wick tries anything with Oswald I may need something nice for his funeral and my court appearance."

Drew and Kate exchanged glances and drained their beers, standing up. "What the hell," Drew said. "Let's go watch Oswald try to pick out a tux. I could use a laugh."

*

Bridals n' Formals was not located in a mall. They all piled out of Drew's car and started toward it. Kate caught sight of a frothy wedding dress displayed in the big front window. She dashed up to the window and soon had her hands and nose pressed to the glass. The others caught up with her and Drew said, "Kate, someone has to clean that glass, and your drool isn't going to make it any easier."

"Ooo, isn't it just dreamy?" she crooned. "Can't you just imagine yourself wearing it, walking down the aisle with a big bunch of sweetheart roses and baby's breath while the organ plays 'Here Comes The Bride'?"

"Disturbingly, yes," said Lewis.

"I dunno," Drew said. "I always pictured you in one of those trendy slip dresses."

Inside a man dressed like an English butler in a 1930s screwball comedy approached them. He pointed one long, elegant finger back toward the door. "For the last time, we have no second hand garments to donate to the Clothe the Destitue Drive."

Oswald showed him the gift certificate. "Nigel Wick sent me, and..."

The clerk beamed, and his voice rose two octaves, "Oh, you're the one Wicked was telling me about!" He walked around Oswald, giving him a thorough up and down examination. "Ooo, he wasn't kidding! You've got a tushie you could eat off!"

"Hey! I sat in the nachos once, okay? Geez, won't I ever be allowed to live that down?"

The man shrugged. "He didn't say anything about brains." He smiled brightly. "Hi. I'm Maurice, and I'll be serving you today. Now, do you happen to know what size you take? I'll need waist and inseam."

Oswald shrugged. "I usually just try on the pants till I find a pair that's loose enough in the waist for me to breath, and has enough room in the crotch for me to sit down without going from baritone to soprano."

"Oh, dear." Maurice whipped a tape measure from around his neck with a flourish. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to measure you. Drat." He sounded singularly unannoyed. "If you'll just step back into the fitting room, I'll take your numbers."

Lewis didn't like the way the guy's eyebrows elevated when he said that. He grabbed Oswald's arm. "No ya don't. He hasn't got anything that you couldn't measure in public." The eyebrows quirked significantly. "Let me rephrase that--you're not going to measure anything you can't measure in public."

"Actually, there are a few public places where it would be allowed," the clerk smirked.

Drew said, "Hell, there are a few places where it would be a spectator sport, but those are either in San Francisco or on Fire Island."

"Oh, very well, if Cinderella must have a chaparone. But I warn you, dear, you'd better get over that shyness before you get to Club Indulgence, or you won't have nearly as much fun. Besides, I think that club policy is to leave all inhibitions at the door. Okay, first let's measure those broad shoulders." He stretched the tape across Oswald's back. "Ooo, Tarzan!"

"So help me, if you say 'me Jane' I'll smack you!" growled Lewis.

"Not Jane, you excitable man, you. However," he batted his eyelashes flirtateously. "I am wearing cheetah patterned undies."

"Way more information than I needed," groaned Drew.

Kate, who was busily raking through a rack of wedding dresses, nodded. "Mental images for the next few decades." She snatched out a cloud of white net and satin, squealing, "I want to try this on!"

"I'm sorry, madame, but due to wear-and-tear on the stock, only brides-to-be may try on gowns."

Kate gave him an innocent look. "I'm a bride to be."

The clerk snorted. "Oh, please! There's a snapshot of you back on our bulletin board in our 'rogues gallery' of lookiloos."

Kate scowled, putting the dress back. "Dammit, I KNEW they weren't really going to submit that photo to BRIDE'S MAGAZINE!"

"The arms now." Oswald stretched his arms out in front of him. "No, dear, not like Frankenstein. Think Catholic." Oswald stretched his arms out to the sides at shoulder height. "Fabulous." measure "Now the waist." measure "Wait a minute," Lewis said suspiciously. "Don't you usually measure the waist by standing in front, or to the side? I've never yet seen anyone measure the waist by standing behind someone and reaching around."

"Yes, and how many tailored suits have you had, Beau Brummel?"

"I want to see at least a foot of space between you and the butt, right now!"

"Party pooper. All right, that just leaves the inside leg." He started to kneel in front of Oswald.

Lewis jerked Oswald away. "Bring him a long, and we'll work from there."

The clerk, pouting, went to get the tuxedo. Oswald complained, "Lewis, how can I get a proper fit if he doesn't measure my inside leg?"

"Oswald, if you'd watched Are You Being Served? as much as I have, you'd realized that 'taking an inside let' is some sort of gay code." He shook his head. "You need to watch more of those intellectual British shows."

"Sure," said Drew. "Absolutely Fabulous, Benny Hill... the high brow stuff."

Maurice came back with some jackets and pants on hangers. "Here's a start. Now, just come back to the fitting room with me, handsome." Lewis started to follow them back. "No you don't! No one else allowed in the fitting room except possibly parents."

"Does it count if I want to be his daddy?" asked Lewis.

Oswald grabbed the garments. "I'm going in there alone! I'm not about to be trapped in a teeny, mirrored room with you guys. Sheesh. Whenever I used to fantasize about three way sex, the other two were always girls!"

He disappeared into the fitting room. Maurice looked at Lewis. "So, exactly how far up river on de-Nile is he?"

"Let me put it this way, when I hand him a fruit basket, I check first for asps."

Kate had her nose pressed to a glass display case. "Can I at least try on a veil?"

"Stop doing that Garfield car window ornament impression!" snapped the clerk. "I have to clean that glass."

"Toldya," said Drew.

Oswald came out of the fitting room. Given his plain shirt and shoes, he still looked quite stunning in the tuxedo. Maurice sighed, "Oh, you clean up nice! Any chance of me seeing what you look like straight out of the bath?"

Lewis elbowed him. "You'll have to peek through the hole in the bathroom wall, like everyone else." He noticed everyone staring at him. "Theoretically."

Oswald raised his voice, "Drew, remind me to buy some carpenter's putty. Anyway, this fits pretty good, except for one thing." He turned around and lifted the back of the jacket. "I think it's a little too snug in the seat."

Lewis and Maurice shook their heads in unison. "No, no, no!" Maurice declared. "In fact, I think that it should be taken in about, say, another half inch."

"Say another inch and I'll give you ten bucks," said Lewis, staring.

Maurice went to the counter, then came back. "Just stand like that, and..." There was a flash of light.

"Hey!" said Oswald. "No pictures!"

"I just need this for comparison," assured Maurice.

"Oh, before and after tailoring?" said Kate.

"I think he means before and after Wick," said Drew.

Lewis looked troubled. "You don't mean to say that you can tell someone has done that just by looking at their clothed butt?" He surreptuously backed toward the three way mirror, peering anxiously.

They picked out a shirt to go with the tuxedo. "Now, do you have cuff links and studs?"

Oswald looked indignant. "How many times do I have to tell everyone? No, I don't have studs." He smiled. "I have girlfriends."

"I can loan you the cuff links and shirt studs, Oswald," Drew said. "The brains, though... Can't help ya there."

"Young lady! What are you doing behind that counter?" called Maurice sharply.

Kate popped up from behind a counter on the other side of the room. "I... uh... I saw a quarter." Maurice came over and held out his hand expectantly. "Hey, finders keepers!"

"If it's on the floor here, it belongs to the store."

"Oh, all right." She hunted through her pockets. Maurice waited. She kept hunting. Maurice tapped his foot. Finally Kate pulled a dollar out of her pocket and sheepishly handed it to him. Maurice hesitated, then shrugged and pocketed it.

They left the shop a little later, Oswald with a garment bag slung over his shoulder. "That wasn't so bad," Oswald said. "I think the color choice was the hardest part when I picked out my prom outfit. I had the hardest time choosing between the powder blue and the neon lime."

Lewis patted his arm. "You made the right choice, buddy. The blue set off your eyes."

In the car Drew said, "Okay, Kate, come clean."

Kate tried to give him an innocent look. "What?"

"What did you lift back there?"

She looked outraged. "Drew! Are you accusing me of shoplifting?"

"It's not your fault, Kate. It's a sickeness. Many women are afflicted with matrimoni-itis."

"Well..." Kate put her foot up on the dashboard and lifted her pant's leg. There was a frilly pink garter around her calf. "I know it was wrong. I'll send them a money order. But I couldn't help it, guys! I was jonesing."

Lewis shook his head. "Kate, Kate, Kate. All right, since you're going to make good on it. I won't report you on one condition."

"Which is?"

"I get to borrow it on alternate weekends."

Part Eleven: Not-So-Mysterious Date

St. Valentine's Day at The Warsaw. Drew, Kate, and Lewis were sitting together, as usual. They were all staring, rather non-plus at the pink, red, and white crepe paper streamers, hearts, and lacey doilies that were strung up everywhere that a tack or piece of tape could fasten them. Lewis shook his head slowly. "I'm glad I drink bottled beer. I'm not sure Steve's idea to tint the draft red was the best idea in the world."

"It isn't the worst idea he's ever come up with." Drew eyed Steve as he stepped out from behind the bar. His elder brother was wearing what looked like a large diaper and a pair of wings was strapped to his back. He winced as Mimi, wearing a screaming red dress came in, went to Steve, and exchanged a kiss. "Not NEARLY the worst."

Mimi walked over to the table and tossed a tiny cardboard box in front of Drew. "Happy Valentine's Day, pig."

Drew eyed the box suspiciously. "It's not ticking. Should I be soaking this in my beer?"

Mimi shrugged. "Hey, you do it to your breakfast cereal--no reason why this should be any different."

Drew gingerly opened the box and shook out several tiny, bright colored objects. "Conversational hearts! Mimi, I can't believe that you gave me these."

Kate had picked up one and was examining it. "I can." She handed it to Drew.

He read the candy. "BITE ME." He started flicking the candies with his fingertip. "BE MY PIG. STUFF IT." He picked up one and blinked at it, then cleaned his glasses and looked at it again. "I know damn good and well that they don't print THAT on these things--kids can get ahold of them."

Mimi shrugged. "It's amazing what you can have printed for a few extra bucks." She looked around. "Where's Ozweird?"

Lewis thumped his head down on the table. Kate patted his back. "He's upstairs getting ready for his date with Wick." Lewis thumped his head again. "Lewis is a little upset." Two thumps.

Steve came over and set two beers on the table. Drew said, "No, that's not what Lewis meant. He was just..." Drew paused. "What the hell." He took the beers and passed one to Kate. "Thanks, Lewis."

"I don't get it," said Mimi. "Since when are you interested in tall, dark and dense, Lewis?"

"Since high school," said Lewis. "Neither one of us was ever all that brilliant or athletic, but man..." his eyes gleamed, "was Oswald ever good at showering."

Wick entered The Warsaw, and Kate blinked. "Wow." The usually dapper Englishman was resplendid in a formal tuxedo, complete with white tie and gloves, and tails.

Wick straightened his tie, then gave each glove a small tug. "Good evening."

Lewis glared at him. "Say the rest of the line. Go on and tell us about the children of the night."

"I assure you that they're very carefull about checking IDs at the Indulgence Club. Where is the delicious, delectable delivery man?"

"The Virgin Sacrifice is preparing himself," said Lewis morosely.

Wick cocked his head. "Virgin Sacrifice. I like the sound of that."

The door opened, and a tall man in a chauffer uniform came in, carrying a two florist boxes--a long one and a small one. "Sir, I thought you'd want these."

"Oh, heaven's yes! I'm all atwitter. Thank you, James."

He bowed and exited. Kate stood up, peering out the door as the man left. "Wick, is that white stretch limo at the curb YOURS?"

"For the evening, anyway. It has the loveliest stereo system, and mini-bar in the back." He opened the long box and showed it to the others. It contained a dozen longstemmed roses, just beginning to open. "And I have a bud for his buttonhole."

Drew pointed to the scarlet rose in Wick's own lapel. "Like yours?"

"Heaven's no! His is white," he smiled. "For purity. I've ordered champagne and the filet and lobster to be served at the club, and I intend to dance those long legs of his half off."

Kate got up and started for the door. "I thought you wanted to see Oswald off, Kate," said Drew. "Where ya going?"

"Do you remember Harvey Wilkersin?"

"Your prom date?" She nodded. "The one who picked you up on his moped, then gave you a corsage out of your mom's flowerbed, sprained two of your toes the one time you got him to dance with you, then took you to Taco Bell after the prom--dutch?" She nodded again. "What about him?"

"I'm going to hunt him down and punch him in the nose."

Lewis looked interested. "Wait till Oswald walks into Wick's clutches and I'll give you a ride." He sighed. "Prom." His eyes got a faraway look in his eyes. "I remember prom."

Drew set down his beer. "I remember the party AFTER the prom." Pause. "Most of it. Boy, it livened up after the chaperones got drunk. Hey, Lewis, you sort of disappeared after that first case of beer, then I found you passed out on the stairs at the rec center."

Lewis smiled dreamily. "Stairs." He sighed. "You know, a high percentage of teenagers lose their virginities on promnight." He leered. "I made out on the stairs with some big brunette. She must've crashed from another school, because I don't remember her from our class."

"Lewis, you dog," said Wick genially.

Lewis' forehead puckered. "Come to think of it, I believe that doggy WAS involved in it." He realized everyone was staring at him. He coughed, then said heartily, "Must've been a dog." Again the dreamy look. "A purebred, blue ribbon, championship, best of show..."

There was the sound of footsteps, and everyone turned to look. Oswald, resplendent in an immaculate tuxedo, stood at the head of the stairs. He started down.

Music started up, and a haunting voice sang, "Kiss me out of the bearded barley. Nightly, beside the green, green grass. Swing, swing,(swing, swing) swing the spinning step. You wear those shoes and I will wear that dress..."

Wick blinked, fascinated, "My God, I've fallen into an American teen movie."

Kate and Drew exchanged looks. Drew said, "Tell me he's not moving in slow motion."

Lewis stalked over to the karaoke machine and pulled the plug. The woman who'd been singing yelled, "Hey!"

"Go back to Dawson's Creek!" he snarled.

Oswald was at the foot of the stairs now. Wick offered him the long box, with a courtly bow. Oswald opened the box, gasping at the sight of the beautiful, luxurious roses. "Oh, wow! Thank you, Nigel. They're fantastic." He touched one, then marveled, "And there's no thorns!"

"Of course not," said Lewis sourly. "He's not going to leave you anything you might use to defend yourself."

Wick whispered to him, "Actually I was afraid of them pricking that delicate white skin of his, but now that you mentioned it..." Drew caught Lewis by the collar before he could reach Wick.

"I want him home by midnight!" Lewis growled.

Wick was pinning the white rosebud on Oswald's lapel, and Oswald said, "Hey! I haven't had a curfew since freshman year!"

Kate said, "What about 1997?"

"That's long over with, and the parole officer was VERY understanding. I'll be back when I GET back, Lewis."

"You tell him, cupcake," approved Wick, ushering him to the door. He held it open as Oswald stepped out. Then he turned back to Lewis, and raised an eyebrow suggestively, "After all, it isn't as if we can't do anything BEFORE midnight that we can do AFTER."

The bottle Lewis threw bounced off the closed door. "When the fuck did they start bottling beer in PLASTIC?!" snarled Lewis. He slumped dejectedly at the table, putting his head in his arms.

Kate and Drew sat on either side of him. Drew patted his back comfortingly. "Damn, Lewis, you're taking this pretty seriously."

Lewis' voice was muffled. "How would you feel if the person you loved was going out with a suave, well-to-do, horny Englishman?"

Kate blinked. "Excuse me, did you just say 'love'?"

Lewis lifted his head, glaring. "I did. I've loved Oswald since junior high. Is that so hard to believe?"

Kate shrugged. "Well, frankly, it's a lot easier to believe that you're bi-curious, and decided that Oswald was your safest bet for a little experimentation." Lewis looked at her. She tried again. "Or that you just think he's hot, and want sex."

"That, too. But I love him." Lewis scratched at the tablecloth. "I... I have him down as my benificiary for all my Drugco benefits--401k, insurance, stocks." This got Drew to put down his beer. "Why, the total worth comes to over sixty-eight dollars. If I keep paying in till the end of the year, anyway." Drew picked his beer back up.

Kate said, "Lewis, if you've felt like this all this time, why haven't you TOLD him?"

Lewis looked at his hands. "I'm shy. But I've tried to show him every way I know how. I let him shower first, and use all the hot water."

Drew asked, "Do you peek in hopes of catching him amid the steam?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Doesn't count."

"I bought him those designer swim trunks that he wanted for his birthday."

"The ones that are a size too small? The ones that got him banned from the public pool after that incident of the cannonball off the diving board in the presence of the Golden Agers Swim Club? The infamous 'peekaboo' incident?"

"Yeah."

"Doesn't count. It only counts if the actual words 'I love you' cross your lips."

Kate nodded. "While some people can say the words with little or no feeling behind them, it's still important to have someone make the declaration, and..." She froze. "I'm giving a guy advice on how to woo my ex-groom." Drew pushed a beer at her. "Drew, alcohol isn't the cure."

"Maybe not, but it sometimes helps control the symptoms." She chugged the beer. "Look, Lewis, quit torturing yourself. It's a date--one date. You don't think that Oswald would fall for a shallow shower of trinkets, a good time, and a smooth line of patter, do you?" Lewis stared at him. "Have a beer."

*

Oswald, wide-eyed, looked around the interior of the limo as it pulled away. "This is more space than I've had in most of my bedrooms."

"We can discuss bedrooms later," Wick purred. He touched a button, and a panel slid open. "What's your pleasure?"

Oswald edged nervously toward the door. "This is our first date, Nigel."

"Oswald? Hello?" Wick pointed. "Drinky, not nooky."

"Oh." Oswald sighed in relief.

"Unless you'd really rather..."

"No!"

"Good. It's such a short ride to the Indulgence Club." Wick poured two drinks, then handed one to Oswald.

Oswald eyed it suspiciously. A crafty light came into his eyes. "Let's change drinks."

Wick spread a hand over his chest. "Oswald, one would think you didn't trust me." Silence. "You wound me, dear boy. Very well."

They exchanged glassess. Oswald waited till Wick took a sip, then drank some of his own. "Hey," Oswald commented, "Your drink was, like, twice as big as mine."

Wick made his eyes round. "Really? Gosh, what a greedy thing I am!"

Oswald smirked. "But I turned the tables on you by insisting that we switch drinks."

"Uh, yeeessss. Drink up. You'll just have time for another before we arrive."

*

The interior of The Indulgence Club was fashionably dim, but somehow things still seemed to gleam--satin upholstery, heavy sterling silver, the gold hoops and diamond studs in the earlobes of some of the partygoers, Wick's eyes...

Oswald was goggling. "I've never seen so many good looking people in one place at one time since the last People's Magazine 50 Most Beautiful People issue, and even there they include a few oldies to be politically correct."

"Hey, there are women here!" Oswald observed. He indicated a tall, stunning brunette.

Wick waved. "Hello, Rupert. How was the trip to Sweden?"

"Ducky." The voice went past husky into basso.

Oswald quickly backed away. He bumped into someone, turned, and found himself looking down at a merry little blonde. Judging from the amount of cleavage showing, she was probably XX chromosome. "Hi," Oswald said cautiously. "What's your name?"

Before she could reply another blonde woman, wearing a tuxedo almost as spiffy as Wick's, swept the first woman into her arms, growling, "Her name is MINE!" They danced away.

"Ohh-kay."

"Come along, Oswald." Wick led him to a reserved table. They were served a rich, delicious dinner by waiters who were more attentive and efficient than most surgical nurses. There was a floorshow, which DID involve some floor action, and a lot more show than Oswald had anticipated. He was starting to sweat by the time the dancing started again. Wick stood and bowed, offering his hand. "Oh, um, I can't dance very well. I end up stepping on the girl's toes."

"Oswald, in case you haven't noticed, I'm not a girl." Wick took hold of Oswald's hand and jerked him into a standing position, flush against his body. Putting his left arm around Oswald's waist he said, "I dodge well," and backed him out onto the dance floor.

After a moment Oswald said, "It's funny."

"What is, Oswald? You'll have to be more specific." A couple of indeterminate sex, wearing more leather than most cows, danced past. "You have so much to choose from."

Oswald shrugged. "I thought I'd get dizzy, dancing backwards."

"You dance beautifully, Oswald. I think your trouble is that your were trying to lead. Dip."

"Hey!" Oswald said indignantly. "I've been called a geek and a nerd and a jerk, but..."

"Not that sort of dip. This sort." Wick suddenly bent Oswald backward. Oswald whooped and clutched at Wick's shoulders to keep from falling. There was applause.

Oswald was panting when Wick let him up again. "Don't DO that!"

Wick batted his eyelashes flirtatiously. "Do what?"

"This." Oswald lunged. This time it was Wick who was bent backward, clutching at the taller man for support. But he was more of an opportunist than Oswald. While he was at the bottom of the dip, he threw his arms around Oswald's neck and laid a deep kiss on him. This time there was stompings and catcalls mixed in with the clapping.

Wick kept kissing Oswald, and his eyebrows climbed as the dip, and the kiss, went on, and on... and on. *Well, well, well.*

Finally Oswald stood back up, setting Wick back from him. He was panting a little, his eyes overly bright. "I got stuck."

"Not yet, you haven't." Wick grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the exit.

The limo pulled up smoothly as they exited the club, the chauffer hopping out to open the door for them. Oswald said, "Wow, we didn't have to wait at ALL! It was just waiting for us. I thought that only happened in, like, television shows." Wick coughed as he pushed Oswald into the backseat.

The chauffer hopped back into the car and glanced back over the seat. "Where to?"

Wick looked at Oswald. "My place?" Oswald started to reach for the door handle. "Oh, very well. Make it The Warsaw, but take the scenic route."

Oswald frowned. "What scenic route?"

"Through Akron." Oswald reached for the door handle again. "James?" The chauffer touched a button on the dash, and there was a click as all the locks engaged. "Now, now, Oswald. It's just a nice little drive, shouldn't take much more than, say, an hour and a half." Wick settled back against the seat, putting his arm along the top of it, behind Oswald. "Relax, get comfortable. Remove any article of clothing you'd like."

Oswald edged away nervously. "Look, don't try anything." He pointed toward the front seat. "I have a witness."

"James?" Another button was touched, and a sheet of tinted glass purred up between the front and back seats.

Oswald gasped in indignation. "How much are you paying him to ignore this?"

"You'd be surprised. It would have cost me less if he hadn't wanted to watch so much, but I'd rather not risk ending up in the on-coming traffic lane." He pulled his gloves off, one finger at a time. Oswald watched with the fascination of a rabbit caught in the headlights. "Tell me, have you ever seen that Kevin Costner movie, No Way Out?"

Oswald's brow wrinkled as he thought, "Um, let me see. That's not the one with the wolves. It's not the Robin Hood one."

"Think Navy dress whites."

"Hm. Oh!" Oswald brightened. "That's the one where Gene Hackman kills Sean Young! Oo, there's this really hot scene where Costner and her make out it the back... of..." he was slowing down, "a... limousine..." He looked back at a grinning Wick.

*pounce*

"I'm not that kind of a boy!" Oswald protested. "I'm not that kind of a boy! I'm not that kind of a..."

Wick's hand settled on Oswald's crotch and gave a firm, stroking squeezed. "Well," he purred, "you're SOME kind of a boy, and an interested one at that. I have proof."

"Nigel, get your hand out from under my cummerbund." *SQUEAK!* "I DIDN'T MEAN YOU COULD STICK IT DOWN MY PANTS!"

"You have to be more specific, Oswald." *stroke* *squeeze*

"Stop that!" *strokestroke* "I, uh, I mean it." *rubstrokerub* "Any time now." *squeeze* "Isn't your hand kind of cramped in there? Maybe you ought to, uh, open the fly so you can get your hand out easier."

"What a good idea." *zip* "And you know, it would be even easier if those pants were..." *tug* "down a little way. My, what lovely underwear. I don't think I've ever seen plaid boxers before."

"They were a gift from Lewis."

"Why am I not surprised. They're much more fashionable than mine." *zip* *rustle* "See? Plain black silk briefs."

"Wow. I had no idea silk could stretch like that."

"You think THAT can stretch?" *tug*

Oswald yelped and scooted back. "You mean to tell me they let you into this country packing THAT?!"

"Well, it WAS before the security restrictions were stepped up, but then, I wasn't interested in the guard."

Wick had been moving forward. By now he was half over Oswald. "Um, Nigel? I'm really, REALLY conflicted about this."

"Very well, weigh the options."

"It's kinda hard to do that when you're rubbing against me like that."

"Try."

"Um, well, I'm not gay."

"Labels, labels. I'm shocked at you, Oswald." *hump hump*

"You... you're my best friend's boss."

"And you think that having sex with me would be bad for him? What a delightfully backward mind you have." *hunch hump rub*

Oswald was sounding more desparate. "I don't even like you, and you're really not a very nice person."

"And this precludes having sex? Oh, come ON, Oswald. Everyone loves the bad boys. That takes care of the objections. Now, on the plus side?"

Oswald grabbed Wick's butt and pulled. "It feels reeeeeal good."

*humphumphumphumphumphumphumphumphumphumphumphumphumphumphump* *gasp gasp*

Wick snuggled against Oswald. "Well, how did you like your first homosexual experience?"

"Actually, I really, really enjoyed it." Wick smirked. "But what makes you think you were it?"

*

The door to The Warsaw opened, and a much rumpled Oswald stepped in, locking the door behind him. He started for the stairs that led up to the space he shared with Lewis, and stopped at the bottom, looking up.

Lewis was sprawled on the stairs, on his back, about halfway up. "Lewis!" Oswald cried. He hurried up to him. "Nine-one-one! Paramedics! Roy and Johnny!" He took a sniff, and squinted. "Hoooo. More like 40s, pina coladas, and Johnny Walker Black!"

Oswald sat beside his recumbent friend. Lewis snored, and Oswald nodded. Yep, that was his 'plastered' snore--Oswald had heard it often enough to be able to tell. Oswald poked him gently. "Hey." *snort* *poke* "Hey, Lewis."

"Five more minu's, Ma."

Oswald grinned, and made his voice high-pitched and nasal. "LOOK AT THE STATE OF YOUR SHEETS, YOUNG MAN! WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING?!"

Lewis jolted awake. Well, as close to awake as he could get with all the alcohol in his system. "I spilled a milkshake! Bottle of glue! Hand lotion! It wasn't me, it was the dog!"

"Lewis, when the dog starts humpin' your leg, you're supposed to swat his nose with a rolled up newspaper." He thought. "Well, that's what the girls used to do to me, anyway."

Lewis finally managed to focus on Oswald. "Well, Cinderella. What happened to Prince Chuckles?"

"Probably making a play for the chauffer on the way back to his high rise castle. Were you waiting up for me?"

Lewis sat up, rubbing his head. "No, this is just where the last shred of consciousness deserted me." He looked away. "I sort of figured you'd be spending the night with Wick."

Oswald shrugged. "He asked. I wasn't interested."

"Really?" Lewis perked up. "You fought him off?"

"Oh, I didn't say that." Lewis drooped. Oswald elbowed him. "C'mon, Lewis. It wasn't any more than a little backseat groping. I wasn't interested in taking it any farther."

"That didn't seem to deter him before."

"I think maybe his finding out that I wasn't a virgin had something to do with dampening his ardor."

"Well, of course you're not a virgin! You were with Kate for..." Oswald raised an eyebrow. "Oooh. You mean THAT kind of virgin."

Oswald nodded. Lewis's face crumpled. "Hey, what's wrong, buddy?" Oswald put his arm comfortingly around his friend.

Lewis sighed heavily. "It's just that... Oh, hell, Oswald. I wanted to be your first."

Oswald stared at him for a long time. Finally he said, "Lewis, how much of that after-prom party do you remember?"

Lewis squintted. "Not a hell of a lot."

Oswald tapped the stair. "Does this remind you of anything?"

A slow grin spread over Lewis's face. "Ooh, yeah! That tall brunette. She was really flat-chested, but boy!"

"Exactly."

Lewis looked confused again. "What?"

"Okay, does THIS remind you of anything?" Oswald wrapped his arms around Lewis's neck, fell back on the stairs, dragging Lewis down on top of him, and laid a lip-lock on him that lasted almost a full minute. Lewis was panting and looking dazed when Oswald allowed him to come up for air. "Still nothing? Lewis, what was my tux color for the prom?"

Lewis frowned. "Let's see... you said it was lime green or powder blue, and I said the blue brought out your eyes..." Suddenly Lewis's eyes got very big. He looked at Oswald questioningly.

"It was a good thing I'd bought that condom, just in case I got lucky, 'cause I did. Lewis, you dip--you WERE my first time."

"But... but... but... You never said anything."

Oswald shrugged. "Neither did you. At first I thought you were regretting it, or ashamed. Then you started bragging about making it with some strange chick, and I realized you had no idea. You seemed so happy believing that, that I didn't want to spoil it for you."

"Spoil it?! Oswald..." Lewis paused. He said cautiously, "How was I?"

Oswald grinned and bumped his shoulder. "Stud."

"But all these years, you've never shown the least interest in other men."

Oswald gave him a level look. "That's because the one man I was interested in didn't ask. When he finally did, I was in the process of being freaked out by another, more aggressive guy. I'm through that now." He looked at Lewis expectantly.

"Do you mean to say that if I asked now, you might?"

"Ask and find out."

Lewis cleared is throat. "Ya wanna?"

Oswald stood up, grabbed his hand, and hauled him to his feet. "You smooth talking devil." He dragged Lewis the rest of the way up the stairs. "I'm a victim of your subtle, seductive charms."

On the way up Lewis said, "So, Oswald, what was Wick like?"

"Why? Ya want me to try to set up a three way?"

"NO! No, HELL no." Lewis paused, then shook his head. "No."

"Just as well. When I told him who'd been there first, he went through a whole container of wet naps, and was asking the driver to stop by the drugstore for some alcohol and penicillin."

END PART 11