seems to have everything under control that's still bothering them."

Chuck led the way into the living room and they fell into the heavy chairs. Sputter followed, jumping onto Pat's stomach as he stretched out on the couch, and curling up contentedly for a nap.

"From what I've seen, Pat observed, "he knows what he wants all right. The only thing bothering him is how to get it."

Chuck considered this for a moment, knowing that, although primarily it reflected Pat's instinctive jealousy, it might be true. "No, I don't think so. A boy-unless he's been told a lot more than I was, for instance, or unless he's come across the stuff in a book-doesn't have very specific ideas about what he wants. He's more naturally shy of sex than a man is, isn't he from sheer lack of experience. He doesn't take it in his stride, because he's always been led to think that he shouldn't even be wondering about it."

Chuck waited for Pat's agreement. But Pat's boyhood hadn't been bound by restrictions, and he could remember how one evening he and a friend, wild with youth, had chased playfully over dark and meandering fields; it had been so late when they wandered home again, and they hardly dared look at each other, each still burning from his fearful and tentative discovery of one of the consolations which manhood allows. So Pat, unable to really agree, just shrugged.

"But, more important," Chuck went on, "men are supposed to want women -he's been told that, or knew it, all his life. So naturally he thinks he'll grow into that after a while, even though he may be hot for a guy now.'

Pat stroked Sputter listlessly. "Well, maybe he will. That's why the law discourages encouraging kids."

"I'm not necessarily encouraging him." Chuck laughed: "It also discourages encouraging us, you know." But at Pat's frown he said no more.

Each man sat silently with his own thoughts for awhile, until Pat spoke what Chuck was thinking. "It's five of, Chuck. You'd better step on it."

"Yeah, dammit." He stood up and stretched. "What're you doing tonight?" "Oh, I dunno. I'd kind of thought we might go out to the Point for a swim, but since you're seeing Jerry, well . . . maybe I'll go alone."

Chuck studied him, a mirthful smile on his lips. How easily Pat could make him seem like a heel.

"Why not wait, and we'll go when I get back?" He enjoyed watching Pat's face brighten. "Jerry won't be able to stay out all night . . . I should be back by ten-thirty."

"Ten-thirty! You want me to drown?! I'll even be too tired to climb into a pair of trunks by then."

"Swell!" Chuck laughed. "That'll make it perfect!" And he leaped away from Pat's playful jab. Elated by the prospect of the evening's two adventures, he prepared to leave. Pat spoke from the living room.

"Chuck . . .

"Mmm?"

"Why don't we have Jerry over for supper sometime, if you want? That would be a start . . . then afterward maybe we could take him to the Point, or the movies ...

"Or how about bowling," Chuck added, excited and pleased by Pat's suggestion and a little relieved.

"Sure. Hell, then he can see that sometimes there's more to the gay life than a new buddy every night."

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