the toilet. He hung up and started driving to no place in particular. When he saw he was nearing the bus stop downtown he drove by running a red light, circled around thinking that maybe he'd stop but saw no place to park and almost chickened out. On the third pass he turned down a one way to swipe an empty spot from an angry Toyota. The driver glowered and shot the finger holding his hand high out the window. Chris returned the gesture with an ardent scoff.

He purchased a soda along with a bag of chips from a kiosk and sat where he could see the mensroom. People came and went as they did in such places. Some looked as though they carried everything they owned, no other worldly possession outside the realm of a suitcase or plastic bag. He was horny and anxious, or some odd combination of that with a hint of melancholy. He thought about his time on the Rue de la Gaiete. How old had he been then?

It had taken some maneuvering, but he managed to slip away from his group and go to a bookstore hosting gay and straight erotic enthusiast. He settled into one of the booths finding that they were kept remarkably clean. "You could have dinner in here" he remembered saying. The room smelled flowery with a hint of the wood spice cologne someone had been wearing. He sat prostrate after an entire day of sightseeing, grateful for having packed paper towels for the daily ritual. There was fumbling against the wall behind him, and the sound of a woman gasping for air as someone turned up the volume. Exposing his full hard on, the air sucked at the smell of his own musk and day old cum his body desperately wanted to expel. Jacking off in French was his most potent memory. He could still escape to that orgasm. Summarily, the memory changed to involve Silvio.

An automated voice announced the arrival of the twenty-three. Several people around him got up and grabbed for their belongings interrupting the fantasy. There were too many people. "This isn't working." The station was too busy. Chris left opting for the park, which seemed like a better approach. The Rue de la Gaiete started again playing itself out in a new improved version. Silvio joined him in the booth and spoke both Spanish and French.

Chris stopped at a soccer field. He didn't care for the soccer park much because there was no set location that guys were likely to connect, but there was no short supply of Hispanic men. "I'll just see a scrimmage, nothing more" he sighed. The wooded area wasn't very wide anyway, only a few square blocks at the most. Christoff had barely got out of his car when he was approached in the parking lot. A young guy with a Peruvian smile walked over.

"You got any smokes" was all it took. They fucked and smoked for three days.

Adelmo lived with his father and two brothers. He said he was a student and that his brothers worked all day and his father sold dulces at the parks. Christoff asked Adelmo if he was sure none of them would come home. "I'm sure. They never do,” he emphasized. Chris had been there three times in as many days and always asked the same question.

There had been no sound to warn him of anyone coming into the room, in fact he assured himself