it was worth the trouble. But he was frankly sponging off Jack, and eating and buying his clothes and sharing a pleasant apartment, by Jack's good graces. He knew Jack was in love with him but he didn't expect it would go on forever. He simply used Jack's hospitality and paid for it with his own haphazard

presence.

Terry's fondness for Jack was real and reassuring, but it was not thrilling. And Terry thrived on thrills. So he went philandering in search of them. Nonethe-less, he wanted to stay with Jack; to come home to him. He tried to explain this to Jack and to his surprise found that he only insulted him.

What it amounted to was that Jack was being taken for a royal ride, and no matter how carefully Terry put it, Jack always took it that way and spat it back in his face.

But Jack couldn't let Terry go. He was imprisoned in his desires and as long as he was, Terry was safe with him.

It couldn't last much longer. Terry was affectionate and he wanted to be obedient, but Jack never gave him the right orders. He flashed a few hysterical threats at him, which Terry ignored, and that was it.

So things went along, with never enough money, enough understanding, enough generous love on either side, and with Jack getting far and away the worst of things.

Until one night in early spring; clear and mild outside, but bad in Jack's apartment. Jack came home unexpectedly and found Terry in his bed with a pickup. It was the second time in the course of their life together that it had happened.

Jack was drunk and so was Terry, slightly, and so was Terry's friend, very. And the friend threw a shoe at Jack and said, "Who the hell d'you think you are? Scram, buddy."

Nothing Terry could say or do after that stopped the whirlwind fury that followed.

"Get out of my bed," Jack threatened. "You pansy, get out of my bed." "You said he wasn't coming home till late," the man reproached Terry. Terry just looked at Jack, scared and wondering. When Jack had caught him doing this before, it had been over a year ago and Jack had been willing to forget it to keep Terry with him. Now he had turned scarlet and he didn't look funny at all.

Jack strode swiftly across the bedroom and beat the man's face with his hands, two quick blows of the fist that surprised the stranger. And while he was stunned and had only a faltering defense, Jack struck him again, brutally, grunting with the effort. The stranger threw ineffectual ill-aimed blows at him, but he was confused and very efficiently hurt. And when Jack's knee came up with sickening force between his legs he screamed and crumpled into a ball on the bed.

Terry gasped. "That's enough, Jack," he protested, but Jack beat the stranger's head until his nose collapsed and stained his face red. The mess spread satisfyingly over the sheets and pillows. Terry had to drag Jack off, holding him while he glared at the man moaning in pain on the bed.

"God," Terry murmured admiringly. "You really gave it to him." He was unashamedly aroused by what was really a futile and unreasoned piece of violence. Terry loved to see a good fight, especially if it was over him. Jack

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