"...And as for Ray, or should I say Stanley Kowalski,
Sgt. Frobisher geared us up with tact and tallow. And led by
Diefenbaker, we set off, Ray and I, we set off on an adventure.
And when we looked below, he saluted. Sgt. Frobisher saluted. I
saluted back. And off we went, to find the Hand of Franklin
reaching for the Beaufort Sea. And if we do find his hand, the
reaching out one... we'll let you know...." (from Call of
The Wild, Part two)
six months later:
There was a sudden, loud, peremptory knocking on the door of
the cabin. Somewhat startled, the single human occupant rose to
his feet and crossed the room in two short strides. He opened the door
to a nightmarish vision... a tall figure muffled in the most garish snowsuit
he'd ever seen. The only thing showing of the
wearer of this abomination was a nose of generous proportions. He stared,
transfixed.
The muffled figured pushed past him roughly, into the cabin,
swinging the door shut behind him. Ben remained where he'd been
standing, staring at the now closed wooden door.
"Well? You gonna give me a hand getting out of this
stuff?"
A little smile quirked his lips and he raised his fingertips to
touch the grainy surface in front of him, as if it could reveal
some deep secret to him. It did no such thing, of course. It was
just a door after all.
Behind him, inside the cabin, he could hear the rustle of
clothing being removed and a familiar voice grumbling. Ben didn't bother
unbuttoning his shirt, he simply pulled it, and his
undershirt, off over his head, tossing them aside as he turned.
One step, and his fingers were busy with the zipper of his jeans. A second
step, and he tackled the slender man, still only half
out of the snowsuit, and flung them both onto the couch.
Fortunately, the couch didn't collapse under the onslaught. Or
perhaps it did, and he simply didn't notice. He captured the
mobile mouth with his own and started an investigation of Ray's
tonsils.
There was a series of muffled noises, which Ben ignored, and then he
was pushed back.
"Hey! Whaddaya think you're doin'?"
Ben slid his jeans down a bit further. "Kissing you,
Ray." His voice was rather breathless. He demonstrated the
technique again.
"Mmmphhh..." Ray pulled his head away. "Did I ask
you to kiss me?"
Ben paused in his exploration of Ray's pants. "I don't
believe so, Ray." He shoved them down.
Ray's hands grasped his hips, but seemed undecided whether to
pull him closer or push him away. Ben nuzzled the base of his
throat and rubbed his groin against Ray's.
"Ya see, Benny, that's the trouble with you. You just assume that
I wanna do whatever you wanna do..." The
long fingers flattened against his buttocks, pressing him down.
"...do ya ever ask? No! Do ya even care if I don't wanna
kiss ya?"
Ben considered Ray's complaint for a moment, tilting his head to
one side. "At this moment, Ray? Not particularly..." He kissed
Ray thoroughly and began rubbing himself back and forth
along the length of Ray's cock.
"...well, that's OK, then... oh, God... Benny..."
*
"Ya know, Benny, this place is even worse than your Dad's place.
Ya sure know how to pick em."
Ray settled himself more comfortably. They'd moved from the couch to
the bed, once they'd managed to convince Dief he should vacate it. The
couch was simply too... restricting...
"Thank you kindly, Ray." Ben's fingers hesitated in
their teasing of Ray's chest hair. "Ray... if you don't mind me
asking..."
Ray scowled. "What am I doing here?"
"Well, yes. I thought..."
Ray interrupted. "What about you Benny? What happened to the Polack?"
Ben blushed. "Well, we had a slight... um, difference of
opinion..."
-----------
Their lips were locked together, their lungs almost bursting. It
was just like that time they'd been trapped on the Robert
Fitzgerald. Finally, Stan was able to break free, gasping. Ben
watched him with some concern, his own chest labouring.
"Are you all right?"
Stan glared at him. "Sure I am. Why shouldn't I be?" He broke
off, wheezing.
Ben shrugged. "Well, I just thought..."
"I'm fine, OK? Just one thing..."
Ben looked at him enquiringly.
"This buddy breathing thing... why do we need to do it on
dry land?"
Ben blushed guiltily.
-----------
Ray laughed.
Ben stared at him indignantly. "It wasn't funny, Ray. He hit me."
"I know." Ray grinned.
"You..." Ben sat up suddenly. "How could you
possibly..."
"He told me." Ray pulled Ben back down. "He was really
pissed with you."
"You saw him in Chicago, Ray? Is that how you knew where to
look for me?"
Ray slid his fingers through Ben's rather long hair. "I like this,
Benny..." He demonstrated its usefulness by dragging
him closer and kissing him.
Ben obliged happily enough, for a while, until curiosity got the
better of him. "Ray, you didn't answer my question."
Ray mumbled something. Ben's head shot up. "What did
you say?"
"I said he came to Florida." Ray glared at him.
"Ah. Stella..."
"Yeah. Stella."
-----------
It was a beautiful day. Hot. Warm breeze. Ray took another sip of his
Pina Colada, lay back in the lounger beside the pool, and
sighed.
"...and did I tell ya that I went jet skiing yesterday
with... Oh I did? Last night, huh? ... and again this morning...
oh..." Ray gritted his teeth. "OK, well did I tell who
I saw at the nightclub last night, Ma? No, not Sly... that was
the night before... let me tell ya... oh... yeah, that's who it
was. I told ya this morning? Both times I called this
morning? Oh... I thought I'd forgotten..."
"Vecchio?! Get in here!"
Ray sat up. "Ma, I gotta go... Stella wants me..."
-----------
"Vecchio? Stella calls you by your surname? Isn't that
rather... um..." Ben hesitated at Ray's glowering look.
"She said she couldn't stand the thought of both her
husbands being called Ray. Too confusing."
"Ah. Understood." Ben avoided Ray's eyes.
-----------
He hadn't expected to find Stella's first husband in Florida.
He'd heard Kowalski had gone up north with Benny. The pair of
them eyed him sternly and Ray felt suddenly very exposed in
nothing more than a bright silk shirt and a pair of speedos. He
surreptitiously pulled the fronts of his shirt together.
-----------
"Speedos, Ray?"
"Yeah, for swimming. You know."
"I know." A pair of fingers walked themselves across
his bare belly. "What colour were they Ray?" Ben's
voice was suddenly husky. "Did you bring them with
you?"
"Why the hell would I bring them here? Like, I'm gonna go
swimming in the Arctic?"
Ben's breath was hot on his skin. "I wasn't thinking of
swimming, exactly, Ray..."
"They're black... mmm... Benny... ohhHHhhh..."
*
It was a while before they felt like talking again. Ray
disentangled his legs from Ben's and stretched, yawning. Ben was
watching him, a satisfied smile on his face.
"So, where were we, Ray?"
Ray scowled. "You really wanna know?"
"Oh, yes, Ray." Demure smile.
"Well, he'd told her about the buddy breathing thing."
Ray frowned. "Ya know, I still don't know how you thought
you could get away with that. He's not that stupid."
Ben didn't bother to respond.
"Anyway, he kinda put two and two together... and he kinda
figured out that we..." A horrible thought occurred to him.
"Did you do that on purpose? To make him go away? Make him
come to Florida?"
Ben simply looked innocent. It wasn't very reassuring.
-----------
It was another beautiful day. One of many. Life was perfect. Ray
sipped another Pina Colada and contemplated perfection. He'd
signed the divorce papers today. Maybe he should call Ma and tell her...
No... he'd already called her twice today and it was still morning. She'd
started asking him if something was wrong. As if
anything could be wrong in this perfect place. Ray ground his
teeth.
He was half asleep when the pool boy came in. A college kid,
working through the summer. Cute too... dark hair, fair skin...
Ray watched him bending over and straightening, bending over
again... He sighed. The kid straightened and turned. Blue eyes,
little dimples beside his mouth when he smiled... just like...
Damn! Ray sat up suddenly.
-----------
"Me, Ray? He reminded you of me?" Ben was absurdly
pleased.
Ray glared. "Did I say that, Benny? Huh? Did I?"
Ben pouted slightly. "No."
"Well, don't go putting words in my mouth, OK?"
"But did he?"
Ray didn't answer in words.
*
Ben finished hammering the last nail into place. It would hold the
shutters over the winter. He looked around the cabin with no
regret. Dief was sitting expectantly by the door.
"Can't wait to get back to the jelly donuts, I
suppose."
Dief growled his agreement.
It had proved ridiculously easy for him to get his old job back
at the Consulate. Meg Thatcher had simply not processed his
resignation papers. Nor, it seemed, had Lt Welsh processed Ray's. It
seemed like nobody had really believed they could stay away
from everything that was important to them... their jobs,
Chicago, Ray's family... each other.
Ben shouldered his pack. "I really hope Ray was able to buy
that Riv. If he has to drive a car from the motor pool." He
shuddered slightly at the memory...
Well, no use dwelling on it. It was time to go. Ray was waiting
for him in Chicago. Just as he always had been...
the end
*
what happened to the actors...
Callum Keith Rennie, having demonstrated his reluctance to remain
in a TV show, immediately started work on a series of
movies, which catapulted him to stardom. After receiving an Oscar nomination,
he was touted as 'the Canadian Brad Pitt', and seemed destined for a
great career. Unfortunately, his career was cut
short when he was found, naked, in a sleazy hotel room, having
died from inhaling Hydrogen Peroxide fumes while touching up his
roots, complicated by his having gone into shock after getting a
bad haircut from his stylist. After his untimely death he became
a cult icon.
Paul Gross, sadly, was unable to shake off the 'Mountie'
typecasting and was reduced to appearing in Coca-Cola ads on TV.
After several years, in despair, he went into therapy, where he
discovered that he suffered from a rare disorder which arrests
development in that part of the brain where the sense of humour
is located, causing the sufferer to retain the sense of humour of an
adolescent boy, indefinitely. Eventually, he was cured of this illness,
but decided to give up acting altogether. He retired to
his ranch where he developed a breed of deaf, lip-reading horses
who thought they were wolves, much to the consternation of the
local chicken population. His entire breeding stock had to be
destroyed after a series of suspicious chicken coop break-ins.
David Marciano, initially went on to better things, taking a starring
role in The Last Don III where he reprised his role as Giorgio Clericuzio,
head of a Mafia Family, and protector of his
nephew's daughter, Rosa, who at the tender age of fourteen became The
Family's youngest, and most efficient, Hit-Person. This TV
movie was marginally successful, so another sequel was made. Rosa made
the mistake of getting herself pregnant (well, she had a
little help...) to a member of a Rival Family. Giorgio,
revitalised by the memories of previous indiscretions, allowed
her to marry the young man, then beat him to death with his
Zimmer Frame on the wedding night. Resisting all efforts to
entice him into making TLD V (the padding they made him wear to
make him look more like Marlon Brando had given him a hernia), he left
the acting profession altogether, taking up a long held
ambition to restore classic American cars. Sadly this business
went bankrupt when he couldn't bring himself to sell any of the
cars.