LITMIR.BIZ

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pants slid off easily, as clothes do when worn by men whose bodies fit the cut, with no excess flesh to consider. Dan unzipped his own trousers and let them slide to the floor, pulling his underwear taut across his thighs. Sebastiano turned his broad back to Dan and braced himself against the mirror.

      Dan knelt and breathed in the smell of funk. His tongue twitched and darted. He felt the short sharp bristles and heard Sebastiano moan. He slid a glistening finger, then a second, deftly up into moist warm flesh. Sebastiano made what passed for welcoming noises. Dan stood. Quickly, before Sebastiano could protest, he plunged in. He felt warmth, wet, goo. It felt good. Familiar, yet not. He hadn’t fucked without a condom in years, not since a drunken fling in a garage that had been left open on Hayden Street when he’d been followed down the lane at four a.m. after a night of dancing. It had taken an excess of alcohol for him to be reckless that time. This time all it had taken was rage.

      There were no protests as he rode the Brazilian stud. The boy arched himself at the mirror, face pressed against the glass. Dan gripped the boy’s abdominals, straining and forcing himself all the way in. There were no protests about that, either, only murmurs of pleasure and a few encouraging words in Portuguese. A drop of sweat glistened and fell from the tip of Dan’s nose. It landed on the small of the boy’s back, rolling down to where Dan’s cock joined Sebastiano’s body in slithery, piston-like motions. He came quickly, discharging completely before pulling out with a solitary plop. Sebastiano let out a groan and came in jerks and spasms onto the mirror, his spunk whiter than any Dan could recall. It hung there, almost muscular in its clinging, not running down. Dan grunted, as if in reply. His cock swung sloppily between his legs, a telltale smudge on the head. A pungent smell filled the air.

      Dan picked the boy’s underwear up from the floor and wiped himself off with it. For good measure, he wiped the mirror too. The boy turned to face him. “Good fuck?” Dan said.

      “Yeah — good fuck.” The boy grinned.

      Dan smiled, but his anger was still intact. Good, yes — but I bet you won’t be too quick to brag about it. Maybe I’ll spread the word myself.

      “I have to go,” Sebastiano said without a trace of sheepishness.

      “Me too.”

      Dan handed over the boy’s underwear with the stain smeared across the bottom.

      The boy’s smile vanished. “I cannot wear this,” he said.

      Dan looked around, as if perplexed. He brightened. “Here,” he said, handing over his own silk boxers. “You can have mine. A little something to remember me by when you have your honeymoon fuck.”

      The boy looked at them dubiously then shrugged. “Why not?” He pulled them up over his legs. They fit.

      Why not, indeed?

      “They look good on you,” Dan said. “Keep them. It’s the least I can do.”

      Gentle arabesques of light fanned over the ballroom and across the dancers, glittering diamonds creating a fantasy landscape, the happy ending to some fairy tale. Trevor stood just inside the ballroom door. His face lit up when he saw Dan.

      “Hey! I’ve been looking for you. How’s it going?”

      Dan had to fight to make eye contact with him. He was suddenly and utterly consumed by shame. Whatever had possessed him only minutes ago had begun to slacken like a balloon losing altitude. The blood urge for revenge was gone, leaving only the afterglow of remorse.

      “I think I just did something very stupid,” he said.

      Trevor watched him curiously. “Anything to do with your boyfriend?”

      Dan nodded. “My boyfriend and your cousin. It seems they’ve been a good deal more than best friends. My stupidity, I guess.”

      Trevor put a hand on Dan’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said in that calming voice. “They’re not a nice crowd — my cousin and his friends. They’re awful people. Selfish and insincere. I shouldn’t be saying this, but you seem like a nice guy. I wouldn’t want to see you get hurt.”

      Dan shrugged, his face a portrait of self-reproach. “Too late.”

      Trevor attempted a consoling smile. “Is there anything I can do? Anything I can say?”

      “No, but thanks.”

      A clamour broke out in the hallway behind them. It grew in volume as a small crowd rushed into the ballroom with Thom at its head. Thom seized on Trevor and Dan. “Where’s Sebastiano?” he demanded.

      Dan felt a sickening sense of oncoming retribution. He’d expected there might be a scene over what he’d done, but he hadn’t expected it to happen so fast. And certainly not here, in front of the wedding guests.

      Without waiting for a reply, Thom turned and looked over the crowd. “Has anybody seen Sebastiano?” he yelled over the music.

      Faces turned to regard him with a mixture of amusement and consternation, unsure of the intent of this impromptu game. Several people shook their heads.

      “I did,” Dan said. “I saw him just now.”

      Thom whirled to face him. “Where? How long ago?”

      “A few minutes ago. Four or five. He was in a changeroom off the lower deck.”

      Before Dan could say more, Sebastiano came through the door like a spirited horse approaching the pack.

      “Thank god!” Thom exclaimed. His voice held an edge of panic. “Someone said you fell over the railing into the water.”

      “No.” Sebastiano shook his head, bewildered. “I am here.”

      “They said you fell over,” Thom insisted, his face set with concern. “They said your jacket was on the railing.”

      Behind them the band went through a change of pitch, moving southerly again, notching the rhythm up to a jerky reggae beat. Outside the windows, the darkness suddenly seemed immense.

      “My jacket? My jacket is on the chair — over there.” Sebastiano pointed to where he’d been sitting half an hour earlier. His unclaimed jacket sat waiting. Confusion passed over his face, followed by fear as the impossible suggested itself. “Where is Daniella?” He looked around in a panic. He grabbed Thom’s arm. “Where is she? Where is Daniella?”

      “I don’t know,” Thom said, shaking his head. “I haven’t seen her.” He turned to the others. “Has anyone seen Daniella?”

      Murmurs broke out around the room, but no one replied. The band continued, oblivious. The dancers stopped one by one as realization settled in that the mood in the room had changed. Sober faces regarded them. Dan saw Bill enter from the opposite side of the room.

      “Anyone?” Thom repeated, his voice tense. “We’re looking for Daniella.”

      “I saw her about twenty minutes ago,” said a bald man with a concerned face. “She was on the upstairs deck. I think she had on a jacket like Sebastiano’s.”

      Sebastiano let out a moan.

      “Look,” Dan said decisively. “Let’s find out for sure what’s happened. Who said they saw someone fall overboard?”

      “We did,” came a voice near the back of the room.

      They turned to see an older man in black tie standing with a woman in a mauve dress, their faces pale with concern. “My wife and I definitely saw someone fall from the upper deck.”

      “We thought it was that young man.” His wife pointed at Sebastiano.

      “Where was this?” Dan said.

      “We were on the back lower deck when someone toppled from above. Whoever it was fell right past us.”

      Sebastiano looked around in terror. He latched onto Bill. “You’re a doctor. Do something!”

      “Okay,

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