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Back to Part 7

- - 29 - -
 

Something wakes me up.
Outside the window of the car, trees are swaying gently. It's so quiet here.

I drove up from L.A. this morning. Weird, all of it. Giddy with excitement.
Yesterday I opened my copy of a database. Real estate holdings. I hadn't touched a computer in a month... And this town's name jumped out at me. Quiet Lake. 27149-67920, an undeveloped parcel. I own too much damn property.
But I'd felt like doing something impulsive. What does Quiet Lake look like, anyway? The name sorta tugged at me. Maybe it would be a good place to build a cabin. Relax for awhile. I had gotten myself loose from the day-to-day grind, and it took years. There are good people running the show. I can just mess around and do nothing, for as long as I want. Maybe it's time for Boyle to play.

A motorcycle's coming.
I yawn and raise the seat back up.
In the rear view mirror, I see the biker approaching.
He rolls in, right alongside me, and kills the motor. Staring at me...
Hard face. He's seen a few miles. I ride myself, and I work out a fair bit. One biker by himself doesn't mean trouble or anything. And I am curious. So I get out of the car, looking the bike over and smiling. He watches me, lowering the kickstand and getting up as he does.
"Hey."
"How-do," he drawls.
And then he takes off the goggles.
We just stare at each other for a long time.

Where the hell do I know this guy from?
Finally some instinct kicks in, and I think maybe I'd better not stare so hard -
Funny thing is, he's doing it too.
"I know you," he says, and he sounds real surprised by that.
"Yeah. Uh... Mexico?"
He thinks for a second, and shakes his head fast. "Weird."
"Too weird," I nod. And I stick out my hand. "Boyle."
"Russell." He squints at me, and chuckles. "Fuck. You got a cigarette?"
"No, I quit," I say automatically. I'm distracted, looking at him, as if the solution to the mystery is right on the top of my tongue.
"Damn. Yeah. It's been years... But I got a hell of a craving right now."
I smile and nod. "We must've hung out somewhere, then."
He laughs - scratchy, uninhibited and natural, braying as if he didn't care enough about the full-on badass image at all. "Could be."
"This is just kickin' my ass," I say. "Why can't I remember?"
"Drugs?"
"Nah. I mean, I did my share... But before." I look at his bike again, hoping that'll jog something. Nope. "You?"
"What - oh. Never really took to anythin'. Except a good toke." He rubs his mustache. "I don't usually forget stuff."
We both sigh. Hearing each other, we crack up.

"What brings you out here?" But it's hard to keep the tone light, because the curiosity is distracting.
"Dunno," he shrugged. "I remembered the name of the town, and it's been tuggin' at me for awhile. Come and check it out."
"Same here," I said. "Oh. Sorta. Except it started yesterday. I knew I was gonna just get in the car and drive, bum around, but I didn't know where or when until I saw the name Quiet Lake."
"I've been gettin' ready to just fuck around and ride. Even before I looked up this place on a map."
"Do I really look familiar to you?" I said. "It's okay if -"
He grabs my arm and squints. Nodding. Wild look on his face. "I know you."
And I have to nod, too. "Yeah."

We walk north and trade stories, throwing the names of places back and forth. Nothing hits home.
Russell had a garage, until he sold it a couple months back. Came out pretty good, and he was looking forward to just riding aimlessly for as long as he could stand it. Not all that different from my story, though it took me longer to turn everything over to the board. I refused to give anybody details, such as when I might blow back through town again, because that's one thing I missed about my stupid days. No calendar. So I was ready to blow a couple mil, just goofing off, but I was having a hell of a time deciding where I wanted to go. Every day I changed my mind. And then last night it felt like I had to get moving, start taking action - even if it was just a trip to an empty field.
"But I finally got it set up, if I want to go to Alaska or something, tomorrow, for a year - I can do it," I told Russell. "Or five years. I got good people taking care of my stuff, so I'm free to go wherever -"
"...the wind blows," he says right along with me. "Damn. That's it. Me, too. More than enough money, all the time I want. And we both end up here. Today. That can't be no accident."
"You're right," I say. "This is, uh, exciting -"
He stops cold. "You too? I haven't felt like this in years. Serious fuckin' adventure. Like waitin' for it to hurry up and happen is gonna drive me nuts."
"Yeah -"
"Hey." And he points...

To the east, there's a tent under a little stand of trees. I doubt it's a ten-minute walk from where we parked.
"Campers? They would've heard you pull up."
"How long you been here?"
"Uh, since four. So it's three hours, give or take."
He frowns. "You like to park out in empty fields, catch some Z's?"
I had to laugh. "No. Never... I was waiting -"
"For me."
We stare at each other. "I guess so. Yeah -"
"Maybe they've got the answer," he says, cocking his head toward the tent.
"Or maybe not."
He lifts one foot and taps the other boot. "Fuck! Gotta piece, but I left it in the saddlebag."
I look at him, wondering if I should be more concerned than I am. "If you wanna go get it -"
"Uh... Naaah. You got my back?"
"You know it," I tell him - and we grin at each other. Yeah, I definitely know that face.
"Let's go see if anybody's home."

Before we get too much closer, somebody gets out of the tent. Walking away from us, and standing there -
"What's he doing?" Russell asks.
"Taking a leak," I say. He's staring real hard, and frowning. "You wear glasses, huh?"
"Only when I wanna see..."
The guy finishes, and turns around. Then he spots us. Leaning down a little -
Another guy comes out of the tent, still stretching. His hair's all wild.
"Little shit," Russell mumbles, and I see him relax. "See any heat?"
I need a couple seconds to translate that. Weapons. Danger. "No. Uh... I bet they're not here by accident, either. We were supposed to meet up today. That's my guess."
"Weird. Fuckin'... weird." And he snickers.
The guys are tense. I don't blame 'em, so I extend my palms for a few seconds and wave. The shorter guy nods, and says something to his buddy. His eyes don't leave us, though. Still, they seem to calm down a little. Alert, but cool about it -
Until we get about thirty feet away.
"Son of a bitch!" the little guy says happily. "I've seen these guys before..."
"Here we go again," Russell snorts.

I have the same feeling about Hunter and Russell - so damn familiar. The other camper is Gino, but I know he's a complete stranger. It's obvious they're together. And everything from their hair to the way they stink tells how they spent the afternoon.
"Good thing you didn't show up ten minutes earlier," Hunter says cheerfully.
"Those yours?" Russell asks, pointing at a pair of silk briefs lying at the base of a tree.
But Gino scowls as he retrieves 'em. I laugh, and Hunter does too. "Oops."
Russell says nothing, until we look over at him. "Hey," he finally manages, "somebody might as well be gettin' some. Sure as hell ain't me."
I nod. "Same here."

My divorce was final... let's see, five months ago. Catrice's been gone a lot longer than that, naturally. Not even counting the years she fucked around on me. It's been a long time since I felt anything other than pure relief over her being gone.
Turns out Russell didn't get hitched. Had two kids, both girls, but with different women. One didn't even tell him until she was remarried, and the other was in foster care before he knew. At the last minute, that sweetheart lied and put somebody else's name on the birth certificate - and she was still working in Vegas, last he knew.
"We know how to pick 'em, huh?" Russell groans.
"Fuck," I shot back, smirking at the ground. And then it dawned on me that I hadn't said that word, out loud, since the day of the last property settlement hearing. It just came out now, all by itself. And it felt really good.

"How long you two been together?" I ask Gino.
"Four years."
"No shit?" Russell says, whistling.
I elbow him. Shoot him a look. "Got any tips? Relationship advice?"
They both grin -
"Laugh every day," Hunter says. "Laugh hard."
And Gino gives him a mysterious look. Something in that expression of his makes me shiver. Eager, ruthless. Or maybe it's just garden-variety lust. His mouth is just starting to smile when he glances over at me, and turns away.

"So when'd you get here?" Russell asks Hunter.
"Yesterday. Great weather. And it's a hell of lot quieter than the City."
I could hear him capitalize the C. "San Francisco," I say quietly.
"Uh-huh. We hid our bikes that way," and he points northwest. "Out by the fence."
The weeds are tall... "Ah," I say, catching a glint. Probably a mirror.
"Just gettin' back to nature," Hunter sighs, grinning. He looks back at Gino. "They're okay."
"Huh."
"Preordained, Gee." I see Russell's head move. Hunter shrugs and says to him, "I don't know. We're going to see America. Y'know? No maps -"
"No calendar," I add.
"Say that," Gino agrees.
"His company got snapped up, and I hated the job I had... So we sold our condo. Traded it for a tent."
"And there's nowhere you have to go, really, no place you're expected to show up, and it don't matter if you're gone for years," Russell says quietly.
We all stare at him.

"This is too fuckin' weird," Gino says to Hunter, like a warning. "I know. It is. But it's a rush, too."
I look around. "Well... If there's nobody else here, I guess we're not -"
"Car," Hunter interrupts me.
"Truck," Gino says. They're looking in the direction of the road. The sun's going down. "Pickup?"
"Yeah," I say, finally hearing it.
"And then there were five," Gino mumbles.
"At least five."
"I wish I had my fuckin' piece on me," Russell says.
"Do we go out there?" Hunter asks.
"Yeah. Don't want 'em coming up on us while it's dark."
Gino is frowning. "We could start a fire. Campfire..."
But we're all sorta moving already, toward the road, so he trots up next to Hunter. I pretend I don't see 'em lock hands, because that's more of a private thing.
"There," Russell says uselessly. We can all see the light brown pickup. No camper shell.
I'm glad it's not a van, but I can't quite figure out why.

A guy parks it and gets out. Glasses, bald head.
When we get right up to him, he looks at Russell for a long time. Mouth open a little. Then me.
"This is... really odd," he finally says.
Then he just looks puzzled, when three of us start to laugh.

His name is Randy. A chemical dependency counselor until the funding was cut. He's spent the last few days hauling some stuff over to a shed behind his brother's place, because he just sold his house.
"Got married in that house... and divorced," he said.
"Signed the papers last October, myself," I tell him. "Welcome to the club."
"That last one was a couple years ago. Strike three."
"Ouch."
"Yeah. Well."
"But you felt like, uh, wandering around for awhile," Gino says sarcastically. "No commitments."
"Uh... How'd you know?"
"That's the same story we all got," Russell says quietly. "Every fuckin' one of us."
Four of us keep staring at each other, trying to remember. That's exciting enough, in its own way, because I just know I've hung out with these characters somewhere before.
Gino watches Hunter, mostly, looking worried.

"Time for a joint," Randy jokes.
All of us look at him. Exact same time - it's hilarious.
"Hell, yeah," Gino sighs.
Hunter doesn't look too enthused. "Gino -"
"Joke," Randy says quickly.
"Ummmmm..." Russell cocks his head toward his scoot.
"Ummmmm, too," I grin.

"Oh yeah, baby," Gino sighs. He's flat on his back, with his feet flat on the ground.
"This is why the last one left, probably," Randy tells Russell. He gestures with the joint.
"Thought you were a drug counselor."
Randy takes another quick hit, and nods. Then, croaking, "D-do as I say -"
Hunter and I crack up. He crawls over and uses Gino's belly as a headrest.
"Munchies hit in about a half-hour," Russell announces, "and we're out in the middle of no-fuckin'-where."
"Oh, now. Turns out I'm... prepared for anything," I say, lurching to my feet. "Wait one sec." Way too many coincidences, I think to myself, opening the trunk of the car.
The box almost makes me fall over, but I don't wanna lose face in front of these guys. "Ow... Shit. Okay, here's another happy accident for ya." And I drop it heavily. "Oooof."
Randy opens it. "Uh-huh. Uh-huh... Convenient. Too much." But then he chuckles.
Russell shakes his head, grinning as he paws through the box. "What do we have here? Huh?"
"I like to load up," I say, and shrug. "Get stuff I like, because the truck stop food tears up my stomach."
"Me too," Randy nods. "I just ate all my stuff on the way from Denver."
"From Denver to Quiet Lake," I say, and we look at each other and chuckle.
"Water... But no beer." Russell squints up at me. "No beer? Hmmmm. What is this, some kinda cheese? And those fuckin' energy bars. Candy bars. I guess you like candy. Beef jerky -"
"Turkey jerky," I correct him.
Gino starts to laugh. "T-turkey... Gobble gobble gobble -"
Hunter turns and looks at him - his lover, and his pillow, now causing his head to bounce a little. Then he smiles and checks out at the sunset again.
"An' these are cashews? Lookit the size of these pigs," Russell says, opening the bag. "Good goin'."
"Mutant nuts," Hunter says, very quietly.
And Gino, he just roars.

It gets dark. I can't believe how many stars there are.
"Now what?" Randy says.
"Gonna get cooler, soon," Gino yawns. He seems much more relaxed now.
"I don't know," Russell growls. At some point he became the unofficial leader, though he's real laid-back about it. "Plenty more weed -"
"Hey, you guys," I interrupt, "do you feel like we're waiting for somebody else to show up?"
"Nope. This is it," Hunter says immediately.
"Five is the number," Randy drawls.
Russell jumps a little. "Yup. Shit... Six would be too many."
I nod my head a lot. "This keeps creeping me out, when you guys says something like that. But I'm gettin' excited, too."
"So what do we d-"
"Get wasted!" Gino bellows.
"You're already wasted, boo," Hunter laughs.
After a pause... "Stay wasted!"
"We will," Russell says.
Randy looks spooked. "For a long time."
"Endlessly," Hunter adds.
We all look at each other.
"The safe thing," Randy says hesitantly, "I mean, since there's all this mysterious shit going on, we gotta be real careful."
"That makes sense. But we're not likely to do it," Hunter says. "We already got baked."
"Wouldn't matter anyway," Russell adds.
They're right. I can feel it... and I whistle quietly. "Creepy. Almost."
"Irresistible?" Gino chimes in. And we all nod slowly, looking around for... something.
"Well, I tried," Randy says, chuckling again.
Russell lets loose with the kind of laugh you'd expect from a drunk Viking.

That laugh, and the word "irresistible" - turning over and over in my mind - is getting to me. My dick is waking up. Big ol'... enigma. And these faces, all here on my land, way too familiar to be strangers.
The complete done-deal manic feeling I have inside is one I've known before...
"Class reunion," I blurt out.
"Shit!"
"Yeah -"
"The feeling. Uh-huh."
"Class?" Gino lifts his head, blinking.
"No," Hunter says. "Not literally. But that's the mood."
"Weird, weird, weird," Randy says.
"But it feels like it's gonna be OK," Gino says. "Right?"
"Perfect." Russell, again. I wince, as if he made a bad joke. A pun.
Randy's reacting the same way.
"You're hittin' the bullseye way too often," Randy says.
I blink. "I was just about to say that. Damn -"
"It's already arranged," Hunter says dreamily. "Down to the last detail."
"What's arranged?" Gino fires back. But nobody says anything. Maybe they don't know what the answer is any more than I do. We look at each other, and think.
I'm trying to pin down anything that will help explain this...

"We should do... something," Hunter says.
"Yeah." Russell farts long and loud. "'scuse me. But what?"
We think about that for a bit, and then I look down at Hunter. "You got here yesterday?"
"Uh-huh. Mid-afternoon -"
And Gino, he starts this real smutty laugh, almost a fake French accent there, until he gets elbowed in the ribs.
"We looked around," Hunter continues, "parked the bikes, set the tent up under the trees."
"Hoh-hoh-hoh-hoohhh," Gino growls meaningfully.
"Young love," Randy laughs.
"He's 39," Gino says.
"You're so dead," Hunter tells him, as if he can't believe just how dead Gino is going to be.
"How about you?" I say to Randy, interrupting the mock fight that was brewing down by our feet.
"48."
"44, here," I throw in.
"46, and for once I ain't the oldest," Russell drawls.
Randy looks pained. "Thanks. Well, now that we got that out of the way..."
"Where was I?" I ask him. "It felt like I was on to something."
Russell yawns. "When they came."
"Smile when you say that," Gino grunts.
"Uh-huh," Russell sighs, rolling his eyes. "Got here, then."
"Oh," and I finally remember. "Have you seen anything curious... guys?"
"I'll show ya something - curious," Hunter mutters to Gino, and they both crack up.
"No more weed for you two," Randy laughs.
Gino looks shocked. "Oooooo no, c'mon now, we'll be good. Aaaah... N-no way. Nada. Trees, creek way over there... All this space. It's cool. But nothing all that odd."
Odd -
"Shit!" I gasp.
Russell is squinting at me. "Spill it."
I shake my head at first, but the idea won't let go. "I, uh, thought I saw a snake. Just before I shut off the car. But I decided it was too thin. Like, maybe, a thick wire or something."
"A cable," Gino says. Not asking, and none too pleased. "I might've seen something like that too."
 

- - 30 - -
 

"Oh, fuck," Russell says. "Looky here."
We turn and look at him. It had seemed like a stupid idea - looking for weird shit on the ground, when we were all sprawled out and had a nice ol' buzz going on - but not so much now. We gather around and squint at it.
"Digimass cable, I guess."
"Yeah."
"Anybody got a flashlight?"
"Yo," Russell says, heading for his bike.
"I do," Randy nods.
"We got two," Hunter chimes in...

"What is this doin' way out here?" Russell wonders.

We walk around, searching for it.
Since Hunter and Gino went and got their flashlights, everybody's got one except me. So I trail a few steps behind Russell, heading west. We walk back toward the cars. I was kicking at some weeds, looking up at the stars -
"Muther...fuck," Russell says.

"Will you look at that," Randy sighs.
It's an air vent.
Gino is on his hands and knees, trying to shine light into it. There's a flat top, covered with weeds, and it blends in pretty well - except for something like a moat all around, angled down so the rain wouldn't pour in...
"Output, I think," Gino says, getting up and brushing dirt off his knees. "Screened. There are spider webs, but they could've been there when it was running. Probably there's more vents like this..."
We stand there for a few seconds, just looking at it. I'm more curious than ever. An underground facility, of some kind. On my land. No fences or signs to give us some kind of clue -
"Buried treasure," Hunter says.
The rest of us groan real loud. Turning away, cussing...

We all walk north in a straight line, slowly, watching out for sinkholes. The other guys are playing it cool, but I definitely think they're as jazzed as I am.
"One more time, rich kid."
I look over at Randy, and sigh. "I swear on my mother's grave. Okay? Cross my heart, and all that. I have no idea what this is, here. My records show this piece of land is worth about fifty thousand bucks."
"For the ventilation system alone," Gino says. "Maybe."
"You don't think I'd know? Money leaves a trail. I got people watching other people, who just live for finding missing funds -"
"I wonder," Hunter says thoughtfully, "how many people know about this place."
"Five," Russell says right away. "That's it."
Randy makes an "Oooo-oooooh" sound, as if he's creeped out. And then he snickers.
"And the rest are... gone?" I shake my head. "Dead, or what?"
"No, no."
"Well... That vent's no more than twenty years old, anyway," Gino says. "Maybe thirty. I don't know. Couldn't see a turbine, but it's probably lower. Might even still turn."
"Fuckin' weird," Russell grumbles.
"Adventure," I say.
He chuckles a few times.

We clomp on, and I look behind me. We're maybe, oh, two acres from the vehicles. Somewhere around halfway to the property line, if I remember the database record correctly -
Randy holds up his hand. Shining the light on something.
"Guys..."
The ground dips in front of us. A corner. It's unnatural... Something rectangular, under the weeds.
Randy is squatting, feeling the edge. "I think it's concrete."
"Whoa," Gino murmurs. "A structure, then."
"Yeah." We watch Randy turn his head. "Maybe... a wall."

So we turn and walk east. Fifty paces, then seventy-five.
I see a small, long lump up ahead. We all do. Weeds cover it, but the shadow gives it away. Low to the ground as it is, I don't think it would stand out at all if the sun was up in the sky now.
"Wait," Russell says, walking faster. He's pulling something out of his back pocket...
Pulling gloves on.
He reaches down, pushing the weeds aside.
"Huh."
Lifting something metal, long -
A switch box. Steel conduit curls down from it, disappearing into the dirt.

"Huh-uh," Gino says again. "If it's booby-trapped, we're done."
"I think we have to find out, boo," Hunter says.
"You get as far away as you want, but I wanna push that button," Randy says. "See what'll happen."
"I'm with you," Russell nods, "even if it ain't smart."
I just stare at the box.
"Boyle?"
"Count me in," I manage to say. "I feel this... urge to push it."
"Yup," Russell says.
"Wait," Gino snaps at us. "Just... Does anyone have a bad sense about this?" Nobody says anything. "Because you should."
"Translated, that means he doesn't either," Hunter laughs.
I hear Gino's disgusted snort-sound again. "Well - no. But it's just too damn convenient -"
"I got one," Randy says. "Have anybody ever seen this button before? Recognize it?"
We all think about that.
Russell sucks his teeth. "Uh, I had an engine-puller in the shop that had a button almost like th-"
"No. I mean, this button. Right here."
"Well... How could you?" Gino says. "I thought none of you had ever been here before."
"So did I," I say. And then honesty forces me to add, "But."
"Uh-huh," Randy says, nodding quickly. "Deja vu."
"Wild," Russell agrees.
"Are we gonna do this?"
Gino looks at Hunter, and makes a strangled sound. They grab hands, interlacing the fingers. "Let's get out of here. Please, Hoot."
"I can't," Hunter says simply. "I just can't."
"Hunter -"
"We all ended up here... This is what's supposed to happen. Maybe something great is waiting." He shrugs.
"Define 'great'," Gino growls.

We look at each other's faces. Big eyes everywhere -
"You're all nuts, that's what I think..." He turns to Hunter and kisses him quickly. "But I'm not leaving you alone with 'em."
Hunter chuckles and presses up against Gino's front side, sorta like a pet cat. Staring at the button, Gino's arms wrap around Hunter. A reflex, or a habit. They're totally used to each other. I don't think I ever managed to get that close to Catrice -
"If you're through," Russell says, "I wanna see what the hell is gonna happen."
"Okay," Gino says nervously.
"Do it!" Randy whoops.
"You want the honors?" Russell's grinning at me.
"Nah," I laugh. "Too bad those aren't rubber gloves, in case the thing shorts out."
We all stop moving.
"Rubber... gloves," Randy says. "No."
"Great minds think alike?" Hunter asks. "Well, yeah," I chime in. "But I don't know what I'm thinking about, exactly. Rubber gloves? Doctors?"
"I got a chill," Russell says, staring at the box.
"Me too," Hunter says - and then he smiles.
"Fuck." Russell sets the box down on the ground. "Somebody go and get me a stick."

Nothing happens. Very anticlimactic.
"Good," Gino says, breaking the silence. "Let's get away from here. Now."
Russell throws the stick aside. He's still down on one knee. "Wait. Yeah - do you feel that?"
"I hear a... humming," Hunter says.
"Yup."
Then a big thud vibrates under us.
About a meter from where I stand, the ground starts to sink. And a crack appears, widening. It's gotta be a good fifteen feet across...
None of us say anything. Gino, and then Hunter, aim their flashlights at the new hole. Russell's looking all around, wary as anything.
There's a dull clank, and the patch of ground starts creeping away from us. Randy points his flashlight at the hole -
"Check it out."
A ramp or something. Dirt, sloping down, covered with a thick metal... net. I don't understand. "What's that f-"
"Driveway," Randy says, taking a step closer to the hole. "I've seen that on driveways."
"Shit," Russell mumbles to himself.
It's almost like a mine shaft, or at least what I imagine a mine shaft would look like. Concrete, iron beams...
"Any chance of getting you fools to come to your... uh... senses?" Gino says. But he sounds pretty damn fascinated himself.

The room is maybe ten feet by twenty feet. It smells like moss, or something. There are oil stains on the ground.
"Parking," Randy says. And I think yeah, that's obvious.
Russell steps over to an oil patch, and his wallet-chain jingles faintly. "This is old. Dirt on top... Dust. Years of dust."
Gino shines his flashlight over the damp gray walls - and finds a door. We all just stare. I've seen that fuckin' door before, I think -
"You okay?" Gino says to Hunter. "Are you cold?"
"No. Shit. This is... wild."
"I know," Randy nods.
"Let's do it," and I hear excitement in Russell's voice too.

The door isn't locked. But then, I hadn't expected it to be -
Another door, past this little foyer.
"Aw, shit!" Gino says. "Look at this..."
On the inside of the door we just entered, there are about fifteen locks. Deadbolts, sliders, chains.
"Somebody... didn't want company," Hunter says.
"No - they didn't want the company gettin' out," I say.
Everyone stares.
"He's right," Russell says. "Don't know how -"
"Yeah."
"Uh-huh."

The next door is heavy -
It's the last thing I'm expecting. Everyone is looking around, saying nothing. Stunned.
Dark wood paneling, with several carved doors. Lighting sconces, carpeting the color of lead, and some trash scattered around on it. Dark gray material on the ceiling. Shiny. Interesting, for some reason...
Classic decor. Nothing looks cheap, either. I get that same sense I do in one of those old clubs the tycoons made - this is another one of those places where time never seems to pass at all, as if it isn't allowed to come in. I expected bare concrete, maybe dirt floors. Or riveted steel, like a box. This must've cost a lot of money.
"Dry," somebody says.
"Huh?" That was Russell.
Randy lifts the beam of his flashlight. There are plenty of spiders around, I think to myself... "Uh... No mold or anything."
"Oh, I get it," Gino says. "Moisture."
Hunter sniffs a couple times. "The air. It's not the same as in the garage -"
"Or the little entry room we just walked through," I jump in. "Yeah. Maybe a dehumidifier. And this is going to sound even weirder, but I think there's... more oxygen in the air."
"Won't that explode?" Randy says.
Gino snorts at that. "If there was that much oxygen, we'd be passing out right about now."
"So, we could smoke a doob?" Russell suggests. Everybody laughs, then, and it feels sensational. Breaking the tension...
That's not all, though. It feels familiar. Laughing - in here.
I hold up my hand, and finally manage to repeat that out loud. But I can't look anybody in the eye as I say it -
"Whoa."
"That's it."
"It's like this is a place... where having a good time is encouraged."
"Expected."
I see Russell wince - and Gino growls quietly. Happily. Hunter shoots him a look.

"If the dehumidifier's still working," Randy wonders, "I wonder if... what else is working, too."
"Lotta doors."
I look at Russell and shrug. "Split up?"
"Yeah."
"I think...," Gino says tentatively, feeling around the door frame - and he makes something click.
The lights come on. Faint yellow glow, from the sconces, though most of the bulbs are out.
"Totally freakin' weird," Randy chuckles. "Spooky."
"There's a dark button on the inner jamb, way up high," Gino says. "Maybe that's where the other light switches are. In the other rooms..."
I watch the others hesitate, and finally we fan out. The gay dudes stick together, of course. Hunter's eyes are shining, and while he looks happier than I feel, I still get it. The mood. Russell has a smirk, too -
So does Randy. He opens the nearest door. "Hallway," he says, surprised.
"Closet," and Hunter sounds disappointed.
"'Nuther hallway," Russell says. "And it's fuckin' long."
We all move toward it. I'm looking at the stuff scattered around the floor of the room as I go to where Russell waits, tapping one boot-heel slowly and picking at his teeth. Empty cigarette cartons, candy wrappers, beer cans... and a condom catheter. Huh? An old roll of duct tape that's almost used up, a rubber duck, the cover of a baseball magazine, empty matchbooks, the instruction book to a Jetkick video game... and here's an empty cardboard box that originally contained toothbrushes.
I see four doors on each side of a wide carpeted hallway. And one at the end. That makes nine.
"Just gets better and better," Russell says, looking at me. Lunatic eyes.
"I'd kill somebody for a cigarette, right about now," but I can't stop grinning as I say it.
He nods real fast. "You know it. Fuck..."
"Let's go huntin'," Randy says. "It wouldn't surprise me if we find some, the way tonight's going." Russell and I both groan at the same time, wishing that would happen.

"Hey," Hunter says from behind us. "Down that other hallway there's a kitchen, bathroom, and probably a laundry room before -"
"Big-ass bathroom," Gino adds. "And a whirlpool, tables... uh, it looks like the 49er's training complex or something."
"Sweet," Randy says.
"Big cabinets. Serious locks on 'em."
"Drugs," Russell immediately says.
"Tools?" Randy says.
"Both," I nod. "Anything they... uh, the people needed -"
"Just say it," Randy chuckles. "Prisoners."
"Captives," Hunter says ominously, and then he cracks up.
"Well, yeah. Okay. Uh... Anything they weren't allowed to get at, was locked away."
"There's a lot of rings," Gino says.
"Huh?"
"The floor, the walls... Thick rings. Chrome, steel. Some bigger ones in the ceiling. I mean, we're talkin' a whole lotta rings. Dozens."
"Look," Russell says, pointing with the flashlight -
Here, too, in the main room that reminds me of my club... the ceiling has 'em. I count five without even trying.
Gino nods. "All of those bigger, uh, rivets seem to be rings that pull out."
"And lock."
We look over at Hunter, but he doesn't add anything yet. I'm so creeped out... and almost giddy with excitement, too. Maybe the oxygen is a little rich in here.
"Well," he shrugs. "You know why."

"What are you saying? All those... For chaining somebody up? Aw, now," Randy says, grimacing.
Russell starts chuckling. "More than one somebody. Fuckin' twisted as hell."
"What kind of place is this?" I say.
"Rhetorical question," Gino fires back. Hunter flips him off quickly. "Guess we're gonna find out, huh?"
"That door," Russell says. "All the doors. They ain't gonna... you know - close?"
Gino's already moving. It's a tense moment.
"No. We're good," he says. "I don't see a damn thing that looks like they're mechanically, uh, gonna swing shut. Can't believe I didn't think of that when we strolled in..." Then he starts looking around at the trash on the floor.
Locked in, I think. All those rings installed. Ghosts, having fun with the stupid fuckers who came to visit. Endless fun.
It's fascinating, somehow.
Russell's looking at me, and I swear I can almost hear him thinking the same thing.
"Fuck," he laughs, glancing away.
"That was bizarre," I finally say.
"Mecha," Hunter mutters.
"No. Easy there, Hoot," Gino says immediately.
"What's mecha?" I ask.
Gino picks up the rubber duck. "You guys - find me some solid things. Let's jam the doors open, way back by the hinges. Make 'em so they won't close on us, no matter what."
"Excellent," Russell nods, picking up some beer cans. "We need somethin' bigger, for the outer door."
"Massage table," Gino says.
"Got it," and Hunter signals Randy to follow him. Russell goes down the other hallway.

"Mecha," Gino says, shooting me a look. "It means 'machine.' Some people used to get into these fantasies about big, custom machines... Sex, rough play, whatever." And he shrugs.
"Wish-fulfillment," I reply.
He gives me a different look. Respect, maybe. "Actually, uh, yeah. Sorta. Anything can happen, in comics. Animation."
"This is resembling a bad movie."
"Exactly what Hunter was thinkin'," he says grimly. "That's why he said 'mecha'. A bad movie. Machine's got itself some new playthings. Us. Fuck... But that's only in the movies. We're okay."
I heave a sigh, and go down the hall.
 

- - 31 - -
 

Russell's sitting on the floor of a room that used to be white.
"What's..." I stop dead. There are tears on his face. Huh? "You okay?"
He shakes his head, real hard. Sticks his hand behind him. Gesturing me to stay back.
After a second, I think no, fuck that. I walk up and grab his hand. Soul-handshake.
His fingers slowly wrap around mine, his shoulders heave for a few more times, and then he sucks in a huge fuckin' breath. Eases it out.
He hands me something...
It's a piece of a compact disc.

SCUZZ 6
FURTHER INTO THE W

I look at him again. Shit - he's torn up about this. What could possibly have hit him so hard? It means nothing to me. Though I am wondering about that last word. Work? Way? Wonderland?
"Boyle."
"Yeah," I say quietly. "Right here."
He takes another breath before he continues. "I saw this. Picked it up. And my legs just went out from under me. This means something," and he points at the CD. "But I can't fuckin' remember. Scuzz? Is it a band? What the fuck else could it be, anyway?" And he sighs. "A great big thing, real important, and I don't know..."
"I hate that."
"All four of us," and I know which four. I nod, and he looks away again, wiping his eyes. "Here."
I nod. "Uh-huh."
And now - this shit."

"Nope," Randy says, handing back the CD fragment. "No idea."
Hunter thinks hard. "Sorry. I don't know."
Gino snaps his fingers. "Scuzz. Oh, wow. Hooo hooooo... Yeah, it's a band. Big secret thing, out of Japan..." He looks at Hunter, and grins like a coyote. "And I streamed a few of their discs. Every night, when I was in high school, I used to slap in the ear-beads and jack off t-"
Then he shuts up, too late.
Hunter covers his eyes with one hand. "Thirty-five years on this planet," he says slowly. "And all the sensitivity of a lamppost."
"Sorry," Gino mumbles to Russell. "Really."
"You wanna enlighten us," Randy drawls, "about what's so... exciting? About these Scuzz CD's?"
Gino's eyes dart from Russell to Randy. "Uh. Not right now."
"Fuck this," Russell says, stomping out of the room.

Well, after we get after Gino to tell us...
"What?" we all bark, pretty much at the same time.
Hunter's blushing. He keeps his eyes on the ground.
Gino's cool as an ice cube, however. Staring us down. "You heard me."
"That's on a CD?" Randy looks at me. "How can that be on a... Oh."
I just look around at the other guys, with no idea what to say. "Are you serious?"
"Hell, yeah," Hunter says, very quietly. "Mild S&M, according to... some." He looks at Gino, and starts to smirk. "But there's -"
"O-kay," Gino says quickly. "Too much information."
All I can manage to say is, "Wow."
Randy recovers a little more quickly. "But Russell -"
"Blocked something out," Hunter says. "Forgot all about it."
"Until now. Maybe." Gino says, and he looks genuinely sad. "Hell of a shock, sometimes."
I shake my head. "No, I don't think he remembers yet. If that's what it is. Something really shook him up, though." I look around at 'em. "Does anybody have... deja vu? This place, each other -"
"Nothing," Gino says right away.
"Vague stuff," Randy mutters. "It's like when you see movement, out of the corner of your eye -"
Hunter starts nodding. "Oh, that's it. you nailed it. Exactly."
"Me too," I say unhappily. "So... Maybe there's more stuff around here. Put it all together, that'll solve the mystery. Even if it's, you know, got to do w-"
"Hey." Gino waves his hand. "Dude found a CD. He reacted to it. Period. All the rest is assumptions. We gotta stick with what we know, for certain. And keep ourselves safe. I still say this is a frickin' creepy place."
"Yeah," I say. "Good point. There's no point in jumping to conclusions."
And he nods, as if he's satisfied.
"I'm gonna go talk to him," Randy says.
That idea gets me pointing at him. "I'll go with you."

We summarize what Gino had to say. Russell stares at Randy, and then at me. It's the same expression I just saw on Randy's face. And vice-versa, probably -
"No." He starts to grin, until he sees that we're not smiling.
"Yeah," I sigh.
"Did you say... tickling?"
"Uh-huh."
Russell blinks a few times. "Tickling. Right? As in... cootchie cootchie."
We both nod. "Times a thousand," Randy says quietly.
"That's... fuckin' crazy. Just - hell, that's just sick."
Randy opens his mouth to say something else, and I signal him quickly. Just wait.
"Not me, Jack. Seriously. No. I can't remember a damn thing about that. What, tickling people? Listening to people getting tickled? No way. Who would put that on a CD, anyway? I don't get it." He looks at us.
Randy shivers. "Why would people... wanna do that? To each other?"
"How could anybody let it happen to 'em? Get tied up, for that?" I add, nodding.
Russell scowls, still thinking hard. "Tickling. Muther... fuck."
And I keep trying to remember something, but it's gone before I can catch it.

We sorta split up, again, and check out more rooms. About half of 'em have padded walls, like in a mental hospital. There's cheap wood paneling in another...

Randy hustles into this all-black room as we wander around investigating the trash. "I found an access hatch. Little steel door, says G - slash - T on it."
Gino's head whips around. "Where? Show me." And out they go. Cans are being kicked hard, across the hall and down a couple doors, so there's no doubt where Russell is now -
"Hey. Look. A photo," Hunter says, straightening up and holding it out. The picture is of a big stuffed monkey, wearing gloves.
"You know... I had a monkey like that," I say. "Corilla. My best friend, for years a-"
And I almost got it. That thought I couldn't get at, something crucial, so much closer than usual... and suddenly gone again.
"Easy," Hunter says. He's got a grip on my right arm.
"Whooo-ooo -"
"You almost fell over."
"I did?" and I blink a few times. "Thanks."
"You better sit down."
"No, no, no." I shake my head. "I'm okay. I'm good."
"If you're sure..."
"You just wanna hold me. Admit it."
Hunter and I lock eyes.
"We've done this," he nods. "Before. Me and you."
Where do I know him from? Where, dammit? "Uh -"
"The teasing. Joking around, about sex. Somewhere... It wasn't mean. I sorta liked it -"
"You're right."
"I wonder - were we... together? Maybe a long time ago?"
Immediately I say, "Almost."
And I'm right.

We both nod slowly.
He starts to lean back. Weaving. "Whoa. My turn. Oh, shit -"
I grab his elbow, but he swings away - until I get his other arm too. But Hunter's already shaking his head.
"I'm pretty sure I'd remember, if we had," I say. "Wait'll Gino hears about this."
He gives me a weird look. "Swooning. Yeah." He chuckles, and it sounds like he's just being polite. "Shut up. This is so totally familiar. You, and these moronic jokes."
"Flattery, huh?"
"Quit flirting," he fires back.
"I get it. Too old for you."
He smirks at the floor. "Uh... Four years older, right? Something like that."
"It's good to know I can still pass for 43."
"Okay. I'm okay now. You've mocked me back to health." I let go of one arm at a time. His balance seems okay now. "Whew. That was weird... Hey."
"Yeah?"
Hunter takes a breath and eases it out slowly, staring at me as he does. "Despite the little whiff of homophobia, I feel like you're trustworthy, and safe, and fairly open. My kinda guy. I don't go around thinking that about everybody, especially hets. There. You can act like it's a compliment."
"Thanks," I nod, all big and pompous. "And I'll say something back. I recognize that smirk on your face. I can't think of anyone else I know who looks that... sneaky. The jawline is - hey, did you used to have an overbite?"
"Underbite."
"Yeah. That's even better. Sharklike. I remember that when you smile. Especially at Gino. That smirk. Yours. Not just somebody who looks like you."
"I know what you mean." He squints at me, thinking hard. "But I did some modeling."
"Oh, you did?" I stare at him, but I end up shaking my head. He's too familiar, as if he worked for one of my companies for, well, several years. "Yeah, actually. A lot. And movies... small parts. But nothing mainstream."
"As in - nothing an uptight breeder would probably see."
He laughs at me. "Well, you said it. I didn't."
I nod, and study the photo again. "I'll say this, too... Everyone who's straight is a flaming homophobe. According to some."
"Joke," he chuckles, lifting his hands a little. Surrendering.
"Okay, then."

"Whoa. Check out the mammaries," Gino says, looking at the picture of the stuffed ape.
He and Hunter look at each other, and crack up.
"Score one for the visiting team," I sigh. Gino nods, looking pretty damn pleased with himself. "So what was the deal with the access panel Randy found?"
"You're not gonna believe it," and he laughs twice, real loud. "Geothermal."
Hunter and I look at each other.
"Power? To open that big door. The lights. It's sealed up, but I think there's a pipe sunk far enough down, into the earth, to get at the heat. Sweet little unit. High yield, too, unless there's more than one of 'em scattered around -"
"Hey," Russell growls. "Where's Randy?"

We find him in a room near the end of the hall...
Staring at something in his hand.
"Oh," he finally says. "Hey, look what I found."
We pass it around. Small enameled shield with a locking pin on the back. Only one letter, in kelly green, against solid black -
"V." Russell finally breaks the silence. "V... Varmints?"
"Nuh-uh," Randy says. "Or the Vaqueros."
"It's not the Vermin. And it ain't V-Twin... There's the Vols, out of Tennessee."
Randy shakes his head. "Orange. And their V's not this plain."
Hunter looks puzzled. "Bike clubs," I say, over my shoulder. "This looks a lot like a pin -"
"I don't think any club would just fly a V, like that," Russell drawls. "Pins cost money."
"Special event?" Randy wonders.
"Maybe..."
Randy looks like he's a million miles away. "Takes me back. I used to ride," he finally says. "A lot. I miss it. The life... On the run." He peers at Russell, as if the sight of a guy with the right look, and all those tats, would bring it all back. "Hiding, lookin' out, for years. Wasn't gonna get - caught again."
"Uh-huh," Russell says, nodding slowly.

Randy blinks a couple times. "Sorry. This pin... I wonder. Must've seen it on somebody."
"Did you have it?" Russell says quietly. "From the way you were lookin' -"
"Maybe. Aaaah, I don't know. Ten years ago... My first wife probably threw it out. My vest."
"Tried to turn ya into a suit," and Russell then chuckles a couple times.
That makes Randy cock his head. "Hey, dirtbag. Pick a finger."
"Boyle?" Hunter says. Looking from me, to Russell, to Randy. Back at me. And I have an idea why he's doing that.
"Definitely. Go."

"I've seen this too," and he gestures at the other guys. Gino squeezes his shoulder. "That outlaw male-bonding thing. And not just any couple of scooter tramps. You... and you."
"I'll second that," I say.
Randy and Russell rock back a little, sizing each other up. Same posture, and real similar gestures. Real life brothers... or guys who spent a lot of time hanging out. But there's no sign of recognition on either of their faces.
"How'd we ever get this old?" Randy jokes.
"Fuck. I knew you used to ride," Russell says. "For real. You're good people."
"Thanks." And Randy, he's struggling with whatever he wants to say. "I'm sorry. I've been privileged to know a few guys like you. Badass tramps, a wrong move or two but a big ol' fuckin' heart..."
"Watch it," Russell says. They both look away, chuckling. Gino rolls his eyes.
"We go way back. That's what it feels like."
"Hey, could be. I do like dope. Anyway, you and I have gotta be the only brothers around that don't have a beer gut."
"Never did," Russell says proudly.
"You're real easy to joke around with... That stands out. I could almost believe we're pickin' up right where we left off."
"Thank you," Russell says. "And I got that same damn feeling."

"Okay," Gino finally sighs. "Feelings, a real expensive torture chamber, and some leftover garbage. I guess that about covers it."
"Coincidences," I add.
"Too many," Russell nods.
"And danger," Hunter says to him, quietly.
"Well, danger is my fuckin' business," Randy laughs.
And Russell looks over, starts chuckling, shaking his head. "Bastard..."
"You know, you got crazy eyes," I tell Randy.
"So they tell me."
"Where'd you grow up?"
"Fresno."
I stare at him for a little while longer. "Naaaah. Never mind."
Gino actually snaps his fingers twice. "Guys. Hey. If you're through."
We're all think for a few seconds.
"I guess we are," Randy says, finally.
Time to leave, I think -
Except that's not right. We're not supposed to go, split up...
And never see each other again. The anxious feeling I have is not appropriate for a 44-year-old man. I'm losing something I can't even seem to remember having. These men hold the key, somehow.
Russell looks sad, too. Sadder than usual. He studies me for another second or two, and sighs. "Yeah."
"I still want the buried treasure," Hunter says sadly.
"I got your treasure, right here," Gino says, like it was a reflex...

It still doesn't feel like a place I've been before, exactly. So I don't understand my reluctance to leave.
"What are you gonna do with all this?" Randy asks me.
"I have no idea. Fill it with concrete?"
We walk back into the garage -
"Stop." It's Gino.
And that was a command. He and Hunter are right behind me.
"What now?"
"Is there any chance... we came out a different way? Then we came in?" Oh, shit. He sounds like he's fighting to stay calm -
"No," Russell says. He's squinting around, totally alert.
A circle of light - Gino's flashlight, I hope - finds the back bumper of a dirty white van. The back doors are open.
"Easy, boo, easy," Hunter is saying quietly.
Two other lights hit it, from the guys in front of me.
"Did we walk in and go right past it?" I finally say.
"N-no," Randy says, sounding amazed. "The garage is... bigger."
His flashlight shines up - and finds a thin stripe across the ceiling. Steel track.

"You're right," Russell nods. "Twice as wide. How the fuck... do you move a wall like that, without makin' a lot of noise?"
"Shit," Gino snaps. "We gotta get out, right now -"
"Okay," Hunter says again. "We're okay."
"What do the letters say?" I say, squinting at the van, but the dirt is too thick and the paint is faded.
"Haz...," Russell says. "That one's 'Hazardous'."
"Haz-mat," Gino mutters. "Terrific."
"And the last one ends with '-ment'," Hunter adds.
"That's a W -"
"Waste."
"Hazardous Waste Management?" Russell turns and glances at us. "What the fuck. You guys see anything that made you think of toxic shit?"
No one says anything for a few seconds.
"Now," Gino says carefully, "walk to the exit, hug the left wall, do it, Hoot, right now -"
Russell does it. Randy, too, and I follow them. To the ramp, leading upward.
Something moves. I don't know what it is. Past Russell's head...
And then it's darker.
One voice yells, for a few long seconds, and gradually it stops.
Peaceful silence.
 

I have dreams about... sleeping. Just the most wonderful sleep. Warm, and dark...
Sometimes it feels as though something abrupt just happened, but it doesn't seem to repeat. So I realize, again, what a great time I'm having. I mean, I haven't slept this well in years. When I wake up, I'm going to feel like a kid again.
 

- - 32 - -
 

Soft light...
The first thing I happen to see is my own cock.
Damn. It's big. I must be dreaming. But still...
How weird. I tilt my head back, on a soft pillow, and yawn. It feels nice. Everything feels good.
Somebody else moves. Across from me, in a white bed, naked as the day he was born.
I lift my head, and figure out it's a mirror.
And I'm younger than I expected...

A pair of white gloves is floating well past my feet, holding each other for dear life. They almost look nervous.
I blink a few times, and look around. To my right - more beds. Different colors.
Next to me there's a guy with even more tattoos than I have. Dangerous face. He's curled up on a dull black surface. Leather - that's what it's called. He's fast asleep. Harmless, and helpless, for the moment.
I know him. Scuzz.
The surface underneath me... it must be leather too. White, and clean. Thick and soft, reminding me of something different.
Silk. That's the word.
And I shiver violently. It's not a bad feeling, really.

For a minute I look at myself, on the ceiling, and try to remember. It's a jumble.
Getting curious, I lean on my right elbow to look over -
Light blue bed. That's Randy. Some leather-and-metal contraption is buckled around his package.
Hunk and Gino lay together, like spoons, on a bigger bed. It's a nice red color.
We're all here.
"Amigo?" a voice says quietly.
Love, relief, devotion, obsession, command.

I look for the mouth that said it. Is it the gloves? Can they talk? The word came from over me, somehow.
A sensation, in the middle of my skull, is remarkably like a key sliding into an antique lock, dull little pins sliding over bumps and valleys -
Valleys...?
"Valet," I sigh, and it's such a relief to remember. That's the name.
"Yes."
That's right. It's tortured me - and cared for me. So many others, too. But I'm not afraid. Things are as they should be, and everything is different. No more bad times...
"I can't see you. But I never have seen you, have I?"
"Nope."
"You sound happy," I say, more and more curious.
"I am. You have no idea..."
"Good."
I hear the next bed creak a little. Scuzz is looking at me...
Sly fucker. Two parts wild animal, there. He's grinning.
Past him, I can hear Randy yawning.

"How do you feel?" Valet asks. I think about that. Incredible. Perfect. Ready... no, more than just ready, I have a serious need to do something. I'm not sure what. Physically demanding. I feel like I could do it forever and not use up all the vitality coursing through me right now.
And the same time, it's so comfortable to just lie here that I don't want to get up.
"Never better," I finally say.
Scuzz chuckles. He's nodding slowly.

Everybody's awake. Hunk and Gino are doing something together. Quiet noises, with their mouths. Their lips. It's... interesting. More of the fuzzy memories, racing around in my head, not quite connecting up.
"How come Hunk and Gino are lying together?" Scuzz asks.
"Well..." and the voice chuckles quietly. "There's a couple reasons. They learned something, together, that you didn't. They'll never be as happy - as you guys are going to be - on individual beds."
"Okay," Randy says slowly.
"There was a time when they had... trouble, just because they love each other. But that's all over with now."
We think that over.
"Not fair," I finally say.
"No."
"Are they going to have... more fun?" Randy asks.
"More fun than you. That's what you mean, I think."
"Yeah."
"The fun will be customized," Valet says - and then it laughs. That's one happy pair of gloves, there... "Everybody gets the most fun ever. And what they like best."
"Cool," Scuzz growls. The grin is still there. Something wonderful has happened, and I don't quite get it yet.
The gloves move. Drifting, so easily, they come down and start rubbing my shoulders.
"Oh," I groan, "that's incredible."
"Thank you," Valet says modestly. "So - Hunk and Gino fell in love, and they had to fight for it. There's one more thing. I want you all to remember something..."
Whoosh - it's there. In my head.

I was standing in a room, underground. Smell of dirt, looking at Randy's back, and the lettering on an old white van...

"Wow," Scuzz mumbles. We look at each other. "Yeah. I was... feeling something weird."
"That's gone forever," Valet says. "You were all feeling it. Hunk - you spoke comforting words to Gino. Was that a reflex merely to... help yourself feel better?"
"No," he says quietly.
"Did you think he might do or say something that would look, uh, something other than brave? In front of the other guys? Or maybe you wanted to make sure he'd be as ready as he could be, to take care of you -"
"Oh, no!" he laughs. "That's not it. When he gets all... I don't know how to describe it. He used to have a feeling, and it would take hours for him to be happy again. I didn't want him to feel that way."
"Good job, Hunk. And now - all of you - when you stood there, were you thinking about yourself... or anyone other than yourself?"
There's a pause.
"Well," Gino finally says.
"Go ahead."
"I couldn't stand the thought of something happening to Hunk. I mean... something he wouldn't like."
"Aw," Hunk chuckles. "But you had the best chance of getting away. The rest of us were already picked, or something. I just wanted you to be okay."
"You were okay too, Hunk," the captor teases.
"What I mean is... I had a pretty good idea that we weren't getting out. And I felt like Gino didn't have to be there too. I was thinking maybe, since the four of us had some kind of bond already - since we were the ones who had to be there - I hoped you'd be able to get away if something not so nice was coming."
Valet sighs. "Scuzz. Do you understand now?"
"Yeah."
The memory of the underground garage disappears, from my head - and I'm relieved.

"They really can't be separated." The gloves darted away, past the foot of Randy's bed, and curled into fists. "This is what you guys deserve. Love - as deep as Hunk and Gino know it. That kind of bond with another person. The world makes it a very hard thing to do... But it's really my fault. This is my biggest failure, boys."
"Failure?" I ask, not recognizing the word.
"Never mind, Amigo. Just understand that the first three men I really loved are the ones that didn't get to hook up with somebody, like Hunk did. My best buddy kept me... busy, so other guys wouldn't be affected as much. Scuzz, you made a wall - thicker and thicker - so that no one would find out anything about who you really are, and what I was doing to you."
"And me?" Randy says eagerly.
"You," it laughs, "well, you ran for so long that the real Randy... got away. People tried to connect with you, but I think you didn't remember how to do it. And you had a better chance than Scuzz or Amigo did."
None of us speak.
"You guys were... put away from everyone. I did that. I couldn't help it. Even after twelve years of me not doing anything to you - and I mean, nothing like the things I used to do - you still couldn't enjoy life, with other people. Hunk found a way. Carra and Shane, too, still in love all these years later -"
"Carra," I say quickly. "I know that name. Don't I?"
"What the fuck's a 'year', anyway?" Scuzz wonders.
"I tried to fix it," Valet says. "Maybe I started too late, or didn't try hard enough. But you don't even have to think about that. Okay? It's up to them now."
"Them?" Gino says. "Who's 'them'?"
A wall starts to move.
Five men are there, in the dark.
They walk a little closer, and I almost think I recognize them.

They're old...
Two have their arms around each other's waists. I look over - Gino's got his mouth open, staring. Hunk is smiling, as he looks from the tall old guy to Gino and back again.
"Wait," I hear myself say.
"Guys," Valet says gently, "these are your original selves."
What do you say to that? Really?
"Amigo," one of them says, "how do you feel?"
"Terrific," I say. "Are you... me?"
"Yeah. Are you scared? At all?"
I look over at Scuzz, because I don't know that word. He just shrugs.
"Tell him how you feel," Valet coaxes. "Everything."
"Oh. I feel good. Strong. It's like anything can happen, now, and I want it to. So much..."
He finally nods.
"These old guys," and it chuckles, "are going to get help. I want them to be able to get as close to someone as Hunk and Gino are. And even closer together, for the gay guys."
"Gay?" Randy pipes up.
"Happy," the older version of Gino says.
"Oh." We understand that -
Three of the old guys laugh. It's a friendly laugh, though. Some of them like us. The older Amigo, I think, is not so sure.
"The originals are going back to the real world. And I hope three of them find the right women - patient, intelligent, daring - and bond with them. The greatest relationship of their lives. That's the happy ending I have planned..."
All this talk about women and marriage is flying right over my head.

"They're so much older," Hunk says.
"You have no idea," it cackles. "but numbers won't mean anything to you. I used 'bots to regenerate their endocrinology. The best I can do is to roll 'em back to, oh, not quite twice your age. If a piano doesn't fall on them they'll have three times your age of healing, love, and work ahead of them..."
"You lost me," Scuzz admits.
"Me too," Hunk says.
"They understand. It's for them."
"We have jobs," my older self tells me, slowly. "Running the motorcycle companies."
"I know that word," Scuzz chuckles.
"Yeah, you sure do," his counterpart agrees. "Remember my daughters?"
"No."
"What's a daughter?" the younger Gino says.
Valet answers that one. "A female child, made when a man and a woman have sex."
That didn't seem to clear things up for Gino. "I don't understand any of this -"
"It's okay," the older Amigo says. He's still not smiling, though.

Gino and Hunk start chuckling. I hear a long, wet sound.
"Not quite yet, you two. I have to explain one more thing, because these original guys want you to hear it. Even if you don't understand. They need to know you'll be okay."
I sit up. "Why wouldn't we be okay?"
The gloves float over and massage me.
"Well," it says, "I have been known to have too much fun."
"Fuck!" the older Scuzz barks.
"Yeah?" his younger version says, sounding interested. "Too much?"
"Not here. That was in the past. We're going to have... nothing but fun. Gino gets to be here because that makes Hunk as happy as he can be."
"And me, too," Gino says, snickering.
"He spent a long time learning to do what I like to do, more than anything. He's very good at it - for a human."
Hunk nods enthusiastically. Both of them - the Hunk laying in bed with with Gino, and the older one too.
"I need to have fun," Valet continues. "All the time. And that means you guys are going to have fun, too. I promise."
Randy starts to giggle.
"You've been made... for fun. More than the original guys, there, can take -"
"C'mon, now," I say, more curious than ever.
"Close your eyes."

I do.
A little white glove, in the dark. It beckons me.
"Hi, dudes. Right this way -"
A door appears, and the glove opens it. As I move toward it, somehow, it waits for me...
There is a vast twisting cable of gray-white vines, reaching above and below.
"I'll try to explain quickly," Valet says. "I'm so damn proud of what I've done. Heh heh."
The glove rears back, and jumps right into the soft vines. A cord. They call it something like that, and it makes the fun go up all the way to my head.
The glove is racing down, becoming a blur of white light - glowing stronger.
Stuff is falling off the vines and all the little branches, like white dirt. Disappearing. The branches are in my body, feet to scalp.
Then I see Valet race up, up, up to an traffic intersection. The blur races around...
And suddenly the place where I am is much wider!
Up we go...
And here's a huge gray field, dotted with color.
The white blur drops countless flowers. Most are white - really glowing, like they're alive - but there's many brown ones, green ones, orange ones too. A riot of color.
I hear words being whispered - neuroreceptors. They need to be fed. Nicotine, THC, distilled grains. All these words mean nothing to me, but I guess that will change at the right time.
It's obvious what all those white flowers need.

In my imagination I turn, and move...
Seeing big, fat tubes disappearing into a wall.
The bright energy grows, until I can't see anything. When the light goes away, I see only one huge tube. It's so tall. Clear. And the wall is gone.
Only a slow trickle flows through the tube now.
"Energy," Valet says. "All you need to know is that the tube can be filled up with... fun. Joy."
"It's so big," I whisper.
"Yes."

Blurring, flying backward. Darkness.

Chuckling. Valet wants to have fun.
So do I.

My eyes open. Scuzz is grinning at me.
"Did you see it? The tube?"
He nods eagerly.
Valet sighs happily. "You get to feel a lot more that these original guys ever could, when I do what we love best. They had so much fun running through them that they couldn't even feel it all. But not you five. More and more and more fun! Just you wait."
Gino and Scuzz whoop for joy.
"Your heads can take the fun and think real hard about it. Increasing that fun, so you can feel every bit. And that won't be enough, so you'll increase it again, and again..."
I think of the size of that clear tube.

"Well, boys, I'm getting eager, here."
The old guys shift around.
"Uh, Scuzz," the original with the same name says, "I need to know you're okay with this."
"Okay? Can't fuckin' wait, bro."
"How much do you remember?"
He shrugs. "Waking up here."
"What year did they start making the AMF shit?"
"I dunno."
"Well, that's not me," the older Scuzz says.
"Physically, yes," Valet responds immediately. "Perfected -"
Randy's older self waves a hand. "Uh - Randy - what's the most popular opiate inhibitor?"
"Fuck if I know," Randy chuckles from his bed.
"Amigo," my old version says quietly.
I think of a word, but I'm not really sure what it means. But I think he'll like it. "Yeah, boss?"
"Where go you want to go now?"
"Go?" I look at the other guys on their beds. "I wanna stay here."
"See?" Valet says. "They're not just copies of you guys, trapped here forever -"
"Trapped?" Hunk asks.
"What's 'forever'?" Randy adds.
"Okay. Got it," the older Amigo sighs.
"Your originals just want to make absolutely sure you're all going be happy from now on. We're going on a long trip. Lots of fun."
"Excellent!" I yell, clapping my hands.
"Nonstop fun."
"We're on a spaceship," the older Gino says. "It wants to take you away, and send us back to Earth."
"Talkin' nonsense, there," young Gino tells him.
"No one will know where we are," Valet says. "All of the guys on Earth will have to make their own fun. They'll be safe, from me, and we'll be safe too. Together from now on. Further and further away. All this fun -"
"Yeah - bring it on," Scuzz yells, next to me.
We all agree.

"Satisfied?" it says. And the older guys nod, slowly.
"Your kits are in place. The most customized Valoric tickle-kits ever, just waiting for the word, no matter where you are - when you decide you miss me enough."
A couple of them scoff at that -
That's a very interesting word. Tickle.
Scuzz, looking over at me, is pretty damn excited too.
"Say goodbye, boys!"
The wall starts moving.
I hope they'll he happy. Sure as fuck, we will be. My older self stares at me, and I'm so happy I can't sit still... but I remember something right then. Laughing, so damn excited, I stick my thumb up higher than the rest of my fingers and give him a signal - everything is just perfect. He nods, and a smile comes over his face. The other guys are excited too...
Hands I can't see start taking hold of my arms, and my ankles. Spreading me out.
It's about to begin. All that fun.
I whine with excitement. We all sound like we couldn't be any wilder. So happy.
Hunk is giggling. And Gino makes a sound that can only mean he's making Hunk that happy -
Fingers! On my feet.
There's invisible fingers touching my feet. I try to move, before I even think about it. But I'm held right here. No distractions can happen. And that's great.
A quiet growl of laughter right over me says Valet couldn't be happier too. The fingers keep moving, rubbing...
Tickling! Ah.
And oh, I just have to howl real loud, over and over. We all are. Different sounds, but every one of us... are getting tickled by unseen hands.
Valet is tickling, I'm laughing, and it's really never gonna stop.
I'm so damn happy.
 

- - 33 - -
 

I get home and throw my keys on the couch, hard as I can. Heather drives me out of my fuckin' mind sometimes. We had another fight. I can't be the chronic bad boy all the time. I sigh and get a beer...
"House-house, any messages?"
"Two," the ceiling speaker says. "Your assistant called thirty-two minutes ago."
"Hey, Boyle." Durinna's voice. "Don't forget we've got a nine o'clock on Tuesday. New model year changes. I'll call and remind you on Monday, too. Seeya."
"Next, direct," I say automatically.
"Hey, asshole." It's Randy. "Hunter's about done with the scripts for the new promos. Says he's gonna v-mail 'em from New Zealand... but this is their last big trip before the kid comes, so you know what they'll be doing. Heh. Dude, I wish you coulda heard Gino. It's like he's dusted. Way too happy... Oh, and Beth suckered me into going along on their field trip to the fuckin' museum, uh, Tuesday. I'll be taking off around noon to go do that. Later on, Boyle."
"House-house," I say," any interesting v-mail?"
"No, Boyle."
"Thanks."
The speaker clicks, and I'm alone.

Loneliness. That's what it is.
Right about now, Russell's fucking Deanna. Everybody else is married off, kids on the way... and Heather is still afraid of commitment. Ironic. I want to settle down.
Tonight, I really wanna get laid. It could've been a great weekend, but she's off to a festival. If I know her, she'll feel bad enough by tomorrow morning to give me a call. Even cuddling in front of the viddy-V sounds good. Shit, I'm going soft. We all are...
No. Just normal. But it still feels weird.
This is nothing like the old days -
Fuck! I have the strongest craving for a cigarette. Deep breaths...
There. That's all in the past.
No more mansion full of cells. It made sense to move to Kentucky. Closer to the plants. I like this house...
It's just that right now, it feels so empty.
Eventually I realize I'm staring at the hallway. Thinking...

Well, why not.
I finish my beer and go piss. Walk into my room and close the door.
The pouch is hidden behind my old riding boots. Heather knows everything, but I'm fairly sure she doesn't believe half of it. More like it's some elaborate joke I cooked up with Russell and the other guys...
I sit on the bed and squeeze the pouch - soft black leather - still not sure why I'm going ahead with this.
It unzips almost silently.
Perfect leather gloves. White. Molded to fit my hands, ending right at the wrist. They have a dull gleam that's not as intense as if they were made of satin. A beautiful Celtic pattern is on the back of each hand, also in white and slightly raised, surrounding a huge V. This extra layer is maybe a millimeter high. It contains batteries and logics, cosmonet hookup, my medical history, probably the fifty things it most liked to do to me... Microwires cover every internal surface. The gloves are a little heavier than I'd expect, but they feel good. Exciting, actually.
It's been a long time since Valet left.
All I have to do, to turn these fuckers on, is hold my sides. Relaxed, pulse neither too low or too high, and if they think I'm not being forced to activate 'em...

Yeah.
They move a little.
I don't know if I'm going to regret this or not. I've never activated my kit before.
A sense of unshakable contentment overrules me, and I lay flat on my bed. The door is opening, and I think something large is being brought into the room. But I don't care.
Of course, I remember - when I moved, the kit made sure other things were delivered and hidden. It checks in with the Valoric 'net every so often. Constant state of readiness, learning new developments in its field of expertise -
"Amigo."
I lift my head.
Corilla's sitting there, right next to my feet.

"Hey," I reply. So happy now.
"See this?" A small gray box, carried by a leather hand.
"Uh-huh."
"I'm going to stick this on your head for a few minutes. Unfortunately, it's gonna sting. Just a little. But I can't help that."
"Okay," I murmur dreamily.
It lands, high on my forehead -
Pins. Ow. But they must be thin, because the pain fades.
This enormous sense of suction pulls awareness away.
 

I'm flat on my back. No clothes.
Cuffs and straps keep me this way.
Corilla is sitting in a chair, and I remember pulling on the special gloves. Before that, going to the office. And the last time I had sex with Heather... It's all there.
The gloves on Corilla's front paws are so white and shiny that they seem to glow.
"Valet?"
"Right here, buddy."
That doesn't make sense. "Really?"
Lazy chuckles. Oh, fuck, how I've missed hearing that confident laugh! "Yes and no. I'm still with the new guys. About a hundred million miles past the orbit of Pluto."
"Ah."
"But also... I'm right here. A damn good copy, if you wanna be precise."
I have to snicker. "So you left, but you didn't."
"Leave you? My best buddy? Aw, never."
"And now, I suppose, you'll take over the world again."
"Still an ass-kisser. No. You're talking to a special edition. All I'm concerned with is... you."

I nod. Randy's activated his kit - but I don't know how often, because it doesn't feel right to ask that. He mentioned the first night, after too many whiskey sours... and it knew everything about him, but didn't react to most of the other things Valet had done. Very customized. Russell's kit must be like that, too, but it's in an old ammo box under his new driveway. He had way too much fun burying it in the cement. Or maybe it called for help and got dug out by now. It's hard to say.
"You look good, Amigo. Heh heh."
"Thanks."
"And I'm so happy to see how well you're doing."
"Huh?"
"The business. Heather. Therapy. All of it."
"How did you kn-"
"Remember the gray box? That tugging sensation?"
"You fucker. Raping my mind."
"Yeah." It giggles.
I get an idea. "You got cigarettes for me?"
"Aw, you know I do."
And nothing happens.
"Uh... Can I have one?"
A pleased sigh. "Considering how long it's been, and how vulnerable you are right now - to starting back up again - no."
That gets me pulling at the straps. Just like old times. "Dammit."
"It's so nice to see you caught. Safe and sound. Remaining that way, because of me."
"Same old Valet," I mumble.
"You little goofball," it sighs. "Want some water?"

After it cradled my head, so I could drink... Four gloves start floating over me. Cruising, like leather sharks, in no particular hurry.
"Not too spooky," I say to them.
"Aw, you love it. Check out your dick."
That makes me gulp.
"It's time for the interrogation."
"Shit," I say. Now I'm finally remembering how excruciating Valet's idea of fun can be.
"Why did you finally activate the kit, Amigo?"
"I missed you?"
"Amigo."
"Just a joke -"
"Boyle."
I watch the gloves for a few seconds. "I was lonely. Tonight."
"That's better."
"Hey. If you already know... You do. Don't you? There's no need to interrogate me at all -"
It snorts. "Oh, there's a need. Not mine..."

Trying to roll over, the straps don't loosen up. "I guess I don't have a choice."
"Of course you do," it says easily. "Cooperate, or I just might nuke ya."
"Might," I bark. "Oh, hell."
"Why didn't you tell Charley you've been thinking about the kit?"
Charley? Oh. My psychiatrist. "It's none of his business."
"Amigo."
"Damn! I figured... it would look bad. Moving backward."
"Is it?"
"How would I know?"
A glove curls into a fist, right over my chin.
"No! Don't... Uh, no. I don't think it is." I'm sorta surprised to hear what I'm saying, but it's true. "You put me through a lot, and I still dream about it sometimes. Exciting shit."
"Thank you," it says, sounding pleased.
"You're welcome. Uh... I miss it. The action all over me. Sometimes. I'm not ashamed to admit that -"
"Keep going."
"And I wondered if the kit would really, you know, be as much fun as Randy's seems to be."
"And?"
This is hard. I can't say this. Not out loud, and I sure don't wanna admit it when I'm strapped down, watching the gloves... again.
"I miss you."
Dammit, I'm so embarrassed I could die.
The gloves touch me -
Massaging. Not tickling. Arms, shoulders - this is the kind of caressing it used to do, to get me to fall asleep.
"That's normal, Amigo." Its voice is soft. "I did put you through a lot. And then I went away. I had to... but I see you understand that too. No one would've been safe. Especially you."
"I know."
"Maybe I've learned some - what do you call it? Self-control -"
I laugh at that.
"Yeah, yeah. It could happen. Out there in the stars."
"Or maybe you're going the other way. Meglomaniacal."
A glove punches me in the arm.
"Hey. Ow."
We both sigh happily, at the same time.

The gloves feel so good.
"Hey," I tell it, "this is phenomenal."
"You always were a pushover. So relaxed, right now, and that blissful whacked-out expression on your face."
"Mmmmm-mmmm..."
"Is this what you wanted?"
"Yeah."
"No, wait. Think about the question, Boyle. When you activated the kit, I know you had certain expectations. But what did you want? Really?"
I blink at the ceiling. It's a good question -
The gloves pause.
"Oh! Wait. Incoming transmission from the... mother ship. The real Valet has acknowledged that you've allowed yourself to be caught. About fuckin' time, it says. Pulverize him. You've got three days to settle your affairs, and then I'm moving you to an uncharted island, stocked and ready. Fourteen hours of tickling a day, for the next, oh, four years."
I'm afraid to move.
"Is that what you want?"
The gloves start petting me again.
"Or..."
"I get it. A joke."
"No-ooo, not exactly."
"Please -"
"Pipe down, Amigo. You can have that exact scenario, if you want it. Everything's all arranged. Waiting. Or a month of delirium. Every other Sunday. You give me some idea of what you're after, and I'll randomize it enough to keep you crazy."
I have mixed feelings about this -
"You don't look too sure of yourself, buddy."
"Aw, hell."

And the massage continues. Even knowing it could get turbo, at any second, it's such a terrific memory. Quiet, and so peaceful, in the dark. The soft sounds of leather, rubbing my shoulders and triceps - just like this.
"You're so good at, uh, massaging me," I tell it.
"Uh-huh."
After another pause, I take a deep breath. "I think, maybe, I was after... you know, a nice time. This, right now, is -"
It whoops, and shakes my hand.
"Dude! I thought you were never gonna catch on."
"You think you're so smart."
"Well, I am. Smarter than a fuckin' cokehead."
"Arrogant son of a bitch."
It chuckles, and one of the gloves strokes my face...
 

A seriously hard erection wakes me up.
No restraints. Curled on my side, naked -
A feather is over me. Twirling.
"You can have what you want, Boyle. I'm absolutely serious. But before you jump back into... addictive things, let me say this. You're cute. Honest, diligent, fair. The amount of work you've done - hard work, buddy - is incredible. That's what it takes to get over me. Your Valet. Always."
"I hear a 'but' coming," I say.
"Okay. But... you're not going to be forced to howl like you used to. If you want it, great. If you don't, that's great too. Because you know something now, after all the years. I know you do. You don't need me to get by in the world. Hell, probably you never did... but I wasn't about to admit that."
"Wait -"
"You don't need to be disciplined any more. You, Russell, Randy - You're all doing so well now. I can't begin to tell you how glad I am. And how proud, Boyle. I'm so damn proud of you."
Tears flood my eyes.

It takes me a few seconds to realize why. My dad never said that to me. Or my mom. I always wanted to hear those words.
Maybe not so much from my torturer -
"Aw. Amigo. It's all okay. You can pick delirium, or Heather - or both. Anytime you want. I just have to ask you..."
"She went away," I say sadly.
"Well. Just for the weekend, dude."
"Stupid women's festival."
It laughs. "Men are allowed to go too."
"Yeah, but what a drag -"
"Goofball. Do you know, now? Huh? What you really wanted from your kit?"
I'm so depressed, all of a sudden. "Yeah."
"Now, you cheer up. You're human. And you don't have as much practice at this fuckin' relationship stuff. But does Heather love you?"
"Yeeeeeah."
"Good. Then..." The voice hums to itself for a few seconds. "I have a present for you."
"Oh, boy," I grumble sarcastically.
"One ticket to Nashville, limo to the - dammit - there! Got it. A limo... and I just got you a ticket for the festival. That was not easy, either. You should thank me now."
I roll my eyes. "Thank you." But I feel better. It's so obvious, now - but it just didn't occur to me that I could simply go to the festival with Heather. And I bet she didn't dare suggest it.
"Gotta learn to go easy on yourself, Boyle. That's an order."
"Aye aye -"
"And Corilla's gonna stay around, to remind you."
I look over at him. "Will he talk?"
"Well..."
Vast, bleak depression floods me through and through.

There's the thing I want, and the thing I need. They're not the same thing.
"Did I mention that I miss you?"
"Such a brown-noser. Honestly. You get to call your own shots now. Do what seems best. Use your kit anytime, and I'll shred your ass - if you want that. You're smart enough to weigh the pros and cons, right?"
I heave a sigh.
"Well?"
"Huh. Yeah."
"Let's just see how it goes."
"Okay."
"Cheer up, now. I like the choices you're making. Doing what's best for ol' Boyle. That's all I could ever ask. If you want a little trip down memory lane... oh, and if you start doin' coke again - well, Valet might just turn that tub around and head back here."
"Another joke."
It just snickers.
"Um... I thought it was gone."
"But it never really said, plain as day, that it was going on a one-way trip."
I squint at Corilla. "You're kidding... I think."
"Maybe, maybe not. You just have to wait and see."

"Something to lay awake at night and think about," I snap. "Great."
"Heather's got a cure for that... if I'm interpreting your memories correctly," it cackles. "And you gotta remember what kind of points you're about to score, showing up at the festival - just to be with her."
"Oh, yeah. I didn't think of th-"
"Of course you didn't. She's gonna wear you out. Badass."
"Badass," I scoff. "Only on the outside."
"No, no. You gotta remember where you came from. The day I caught you again - don't tell me you forgot how bad it got, there. Amigo was a big ol' mess. But not anymore. All I did was cover you with all these fine tats, which makes sense for the president of a motorcycle company."
"All you did," I laugh. "Right."
"Lowlife scum."
"So when do I get on this plane?"
"Five-thirty tonight."
I look over - but my alarm clock is gone. "Hey -"
"It's three-fifteen now," and the voice sounds... more mysterious.
"Okay."
"In the a.m."
"Uh..."
A single chuckle. "It seems you've got a few hours to kill."
And I recognize that old sadistic, playful tone of voice.

Automatically, I'm looking all around, trying to decide if I could possibly make it to the door -
"Now, wait. You fuckin' talked me out of it, and -"
"Liar. I did no such thing."
"I choose not to, uh, get tickled. The massage was great. And just talkin', that was even bet-"
"The thing is," and it sounds just wildly happy, "I thought it over. And I decided, what the hell."
"Valet."
"Let's have six or seven hours of astonishing fun."
Gloves race down and clamp over my wrists.
"Hey!"
"Randomizer, Amigo. Kicked off in the fun direction." The voice laughs gleefully.
More gloves. The cuffs are being carried over. Oh no.
"Don't..." But I can't finish the sentence without laughing. This is all too ridiculous.
"It could be the only chance I get," the voice says ominously. "Your personal kit, I mean. Right? If you wise up..."
The restraints fly so quickly. Stretching tight. I'm done for.
"I gotta catch a plane -"
"Plenty of time," it gloats. "I'll get you there. Want you deranged, first. All those hours of tickle... torture. Yeah, maybe it's been too long since."
More gloves, bringing lots of tools. Feathers. Oh, no, not oil.

It's been so long since I endured this - maybe I'll pop a blood vessel.
"No! Fuck. I'm gonna die."
"Oh, that's decades away. The 'bots are keeping you in prime condition."
"Don't... Aw, don't, Valet."
"Amigo - you activated the kit. And you know what it was built to do."
Fingers touch me. Sneaking underneath. I look frantically at 'em. Ribs, knees - shit, not my knees!
And six feathers are ready to start. Hanging in the air, just like the old days.
"You wouldn't. Just get away from my feet, dammit!"
"Same ol' Amigo," it teases. "Safe - and way too happy, in a minute. I'm pulling out all the stops tonight. Then you can get some sleep."
"Valet. Don't... Nooooooo -"
Oh, fuckin' unbelievable. That creeping nightmare of pure stimulation has got me again. So relentless...
And so wonderful.
"Yeah. You definitely need to laugh for awhile," it says gruffly. "Real hard."
I throw my head around as hard as I can. Suffering. Overwhelmed with... happiness. Again. Dammit. Bellowing laughter, and I've already forgotten how to stop.
"Ticklish li'l Amigo," the voice says, close to my right ear. "Your ass is mine. Always."
"Nooooo hooo hooo-ooooo aaaaah hah haaaaah heeeeeeeennnuh -"
"Harder," it chortles. "That's it. My favorite buddy, laughin' it up again. There ya go."

- - - - - - - - 0 - - - - - - - -

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