to say but, again, his deep brown eyes drew me in and my mouth spoke automatically. “I feel more comfortable with you than I ever felt with her. Or anyone for that matter.”

He grinned and jostled my shoulder with his hand. “There’s your answer: Leave her and move in with me.”

We both laughed, though my face got red and I changed the subject. “Are you cold?”

“Yeah, I am. Shit, I hope the furnace didn’t go out again.”

It had. Cold air blew from the registers. He called the landlord who wasn’t home.

“Oh well,” James shrugged, “Get ready for a cold night.”

By midnight we had to put on our coats. We’d finished the beer and neither of us could talk without yawning. At thirty two I didn’t have the endurance of my college days.

James stood and stretched. “I hate to end our lovely evening but I’m tired.”

I agreed and asked if he had extra blankets.

“Yeah, but I was thinking. I’ve got a space heater that’s too small for the whole apartment. If you want I could set it up in my room, close the door and we could both sleep in there. I’ve got a queen sized bed.”

The thought of sleeping next to James was frightfully alluring. An almost imperceptible tingle passed through me. Whether in fear or anticipation I don’t know.

“Okay, sure.” I agreed.

As we set up the space heater and piled all extra blankets on the bed I had a fleeting image of James and I performing this task night after night, year after year, as if we were partners and there had never been a Tracy. I shook the annoying image away. Where did these kinds of thoughts come from? This wasn’t the first time.

Over the past few months I’d been increasingly unable to keep James from my mind. At breakfast I imagined James at the table with me instead of Tracy. At work I dreamt how nice it would be to go home to him instead of her. But there was nothing odd about that. James was brightness and fun; Tracy businesslike and sullen. It didn’t mean anything.

No, that wasn’t true. It did mean something. I’d always entertained these fleeting fantasies about some of my closer friends. I’d imagine shopping, holidays, and vacations on some sunny beach, all in the company of my male companion. And there were the other, deeper imaginings that I tried not to think about. These images flitted through my brain in quite moments of self enjoyment, terrifying in their implications yet stunningly erotic. Lying back in my lonely solitude I’d see the montage of firm chests, washboard stomachs, bulging biceps, and of course, heavy, firm cocks pleading to be touched.

“Shit, shit, shit!” I muttered to myself. No, I was a married man, as straight as an arrow. The dreams had no mirror in reality except…Except that lately the vague, nebulous male figures of my Onanistic fantasies had become someone tangible. They’d become “him”. They’d become James.

Tightness gripped my chest. This wasn’t a dream. I was here, freezing my ass off in James’ bedroom getting ready to sleep next to him. I couldn’t leave. I was terrified yet deep inside I wanted so badly to stay.