"So where did they all go?" Barry asked.

"Mom took them to the waterpark," Pat replied. "I begged off, said I didn't feel well enough to get wet."

The house was empty and it needed to be if they were going to remove the paintings, books and the phallic statue. Barry had been stunned when Pat revealed what was tucked away in the attic. He thought it was creepy that these things were just coming to light after all this time.

"Her parents should have checked the attic before they sold the house," Barry said.

"At least someone should have looked up there, but I'm glad they didn't. Now I have a better insight to Jenny's mindset and an even bigger puzzle to solve."

They crossed the back porch, went through the kitchen and down the hall to Pat's room. It was convenient to live in a ranch style house. Because there was no second floor, Pat's bedroom was on the back corner of the house and his windows were only six feet off the ground. It would be easier for him to slip out the window some night if he ever felt the need.

Barry followed Pat into the bedroom and they locked the door. Pat moved the chair into the closet and once more tripped the latch with his letter opener. Now it was Barry who looked up into the darkness.

"You first," He said.

Pat laughed. "Nothing up there is going to bite you." But he climbed the ladder and turned on the light.

They had decided to cut out the paintings and roll them up, knocking down the wooden frames and bundling it all together. The books could go in a trash bag and be hauled away with the trash on Friday morning. The statue would be the biggest problem.

Pat pulled out the paintings and Barry gawked at them. "Jeez, what a sick mind," He said.

"My thoughts exactly," Pat said. "But you have to wonder at the message behind the art."

"You think she was raped?" Barry asked.

"Could be, or maybe it was her fantasy to be raped. But then we have the image of her pregnant which just confuses me. I also find the destroyed house pretty disturbing too."

Barry stared at the painting and nodded. "I wonder who that is at the window?"

"Window?" Pat looked closer and thought he could see a shape in one of those third floor windows. "It does look like someone is up there, doesn't it?"

"Maybe it's the old man?" Barry said. "Let's think about this in a completely illogical fashion. Maybe Jenny was in some kind of drug crazed stupor, took off all her clothes and was impregnated by a beast, or some passing farm boy. Someone in the house sees her and comes down to tell her off. Instead of fulfilling her rape fantasy she gets tossed off the property. Then once this painting is done she goes back to the lake, falls in the water and drowns. No, maybe she was pushed in."

"I thought she was there with some other girls who saw her go under and yelled for help?"

"Yeah, you're right. But she looks fit enough, and don't you think she could swim?" Barry asked.

"You'd think ... this is all so confusing," Pat said.

"What's under the sheet?"

Pat smiled. "My gift to you, use it well." And he pulled off the pillowcase.

Barry lost it and they both laughed hard for a few minutes.

"You don't suppose ... ?" Barry said.

"Hell no, you'd have to be an elephant to handle that," Pat said.

"Pentagrams, witchcraft and voodoo ... maybe that's some kind of sex worship idol."

"If you had a cock like that you wouldn't be having any sex," Pat chuckled. "I like the idol worship angle, but since I won't be setting up an altar in my room for that we have to get rid of it."

"Do you have a saw?" Barry asked.

"We do, but if it has a voodoo curse on it I'll let you cut it up. I sure don't want my penis falling off."

"Yeah, there is that. We could bury it in the woods," Barry said.

"Now that I agree would be a better solution, and we have two shovels out in the shed," Pat said.

Pat handed the things down to Barry who set them on the floor in the bedroom. Pat took one last look around and then climbed down, shutting the attic door in the process.

"I really hate to destroy artwork," Pat said.

"How would you explain them to your parents?" Barry asked.

"That's just it, I can't."

He fished the scalpel out of his dissecting kit and cut around the frames on each of the paintings. The wood was east to pull apart, and they could stuff the frames in the trash. The paintings all rolled up into a nice bundle and Pat wracked his brain for a reasonable way he might hold onto them.

"I'm going to keep these for now. Maybe I can find a good place to hide them until we know more," Pat said.

"More about what?" Barry asked.

"Okay, I haven't been completely honest with you," Pat said. "I've been over to the Parsons' house and I met the son, John Parsons."

Pat pulled out his backpack and took out the sketchbook which he handed to Barry.

"I've started a series of drawings, just the details of the house for now. But when I'm done I plan to put the whole house in one big drawing."

Barry looked through the pages, and then up at Pat. "You're an artist ... a very good one by what I see here. Why didn't you tell me?"

Pat shrugged. "I just never tell anyone about my art, they might think I'm strange."

Barry started laughing and then shook his head to calm down. "You think art makes you strange? Mr. McGinty you are nuts. You sit at a lunch table with the three biggest geeks in school and you don't worry about that.

"Let me tell you something else. You have a talent and you need to use it for one very good reason. White Oak High has a large alumnus and they endow a scholarship fund. One of those grants is for a gifted artist and you might just qualify. Think about it ... free college, maybe even admission to a famous art school."

"I didn't know," Pat said.

"Few students do, except maybe for the club presidents and geeks like me. Don't hide your art, bring it out into the sunshine and put it on display. There's an art fair this fall at school, you need to have something in that show."

"Yes, master," Pat said.

Barry smiled. "That's a response I want to hear from Berger when he's on his knees in front of me. I want you to come out of that shell and stop hiding what you do best. Hell, it might even make you popular around school."

Pat slid the roll of paintings under his mattress and they carried the other things out to the back porch. Pat brought out several garbage bags and they went through the books. Nothing caught their attention and so they were bagged and set in the outside trash cans.

Barry slid a bag over the penis and laughed. "Kind of like putting a rubber on a real cock."

"I wouldn't know about that," Pat said. And they both froze as a car pulled in the driveway. "Oh shit, my Mom is home."

Pat hustled the statue back to his room and shoved it under the bed. He got back to the porch just as Mike came through the door with a large bandage on his forehead.

"Let me guess, running on slippery concrete?" Pat said.

Mike didn't look happy and his mother even less so. Then his little sister bounced through the door and smiled.

"Mike fell off the waterslide." Darlene could always be counted on to spill the beans. "The lifeguard tossed us out of the park."

"Mike, off to your room and lie down like the nurse said," Pat's mother ordered.

Mike shrugged and walked off the porch. "He's grounded," Darlene tossed out.

"What happened, Mom?" Pat asked.

"He was showing off for some girl. He didn't wait his turn and went on the slide before it was clear. So when he got to the bottom there was a young girl still in the way and Mike threw himself to one side to avoid her and ended up hitting the wall."

"Poor wall," Pat said.

"He could have given himself a concussion, but instead he just scraped off some skin. I'm sorry to be rude. Hello, Barry."

"Hello, Mrs. McGinty. I'm sorry your trip was cut short," Barry said.

"Thank you. What's this stuff?"

"Um, Barry found these old canvas stretchers and though I might be able to use them. But I don't paint," Pat said. "We were going to break them up for the trash."

"If its wood I think it has to be tied up with string and set on the curb."

"Yes, you're right," Barry said. "That's what we'll do."

"Well I'm going to lie down for a while. It's been quite a day."

She went in the house with Darlene trailing along, leaving them alone on the porch. Pat was sure he would hear more about Mike's foolishness at dinner.

"What did you do with the statue?" Barry asked.

"It's under my bed. Tell you what, go open the shed out back and take out the shovels. Meet me on the path going down into the woods. I'll climb out my window and bring the statue."

"Where are we going to bury it?"

"Does it matter?" Pat asked. "Just somewhere where no one will find it."

They bundled the frames and set them out by the trash cans, then Barry walked out into the back yard to the shed. Pat went into this room and shut the door. He retrieved the statue and opened the window. Looking down he dropped the bag into the ivy and then slid over the sill.

Digging a hole in the woods wasn't going to be easy. Under that thick matted layer of leaves was a dense growth of tree roots that resisted the blades of the shovels. But after working for half an hour they had a hole about two feet deep and laid the statue in its trash bag on the bottom. They filed in the hole and scattered the leaves back in place.

"It seems a shame," Barry said. "It was a good piece of art."

"Then remember this spot and you can dig it up again," Pat said.

"Not likely ... so what should we do now?"

"How's about we go up to the bowling lanes and you introduce me to Perry?" Pat said.

"You're a shameless pervert ... that sounds like fun."

Perry Long was behind the counter in the bowling alley cleaning the rental shoes they had for the customers. He was busy spraying the leather with a cleaning solution and then wiping off the scuff marks left by the less than careful customers. But since he was focused on the work he didn't notice Barry and Pat standing at the counter.

Pat realized he was wrong in his first assessment of the boy's age and the quiet beauty of his face. Fifteen, Pat thought. At least that meant he was older than Berger, but then why wasn't he at WOHS? As for the beauty it was a little strange to think of a boy in those terms but Perry deserved the compliment.

Perry had rich brown hair that covered his ears. Stylish since long hair was back in these days. But from the angle at the counter Pat could see the boy's face had clear soft skin and abnormally long eyelashes. He wondered what color the eyes would be, and then Perry looked up at them hovering above him.

Brown ... big brown eyes, Pat noticed and Perry smiled. "Can I help you?"

"Hi, Perry," Barry said.

Perry's gaze swung over to Barry and he nodded. "You aren't looking for Berger are you? My Dad is worried you guys are gonna fight ... just don't do it here, please."

"No fights," Barry promised. "I thought he was banned for a while."

"He was, but Dad took the red card back. Doesn't matter, Berger isn't here today."

"Perry, this is my friend Pat."

Perry held up a hand to offer a shake and then then thought better of it. "Sorry, I have this goop all over my hands. Pat, did you just move into the neighborhood?"

"Six months ago, but I'm not a bowler. In fact, I'm terrible," Pat said.

Perry nodded. "So are most of our customers."

"I'm going to get my little messed up car," Barry said. "Be right back."

Pat remained behind as Perry wiped off the shoes and set them aside. "Don't have to finish this now," He explained.

From the moment their eyes met Pat had felt something. It wasn't just the smile Perry had given him, no, there was an interest, a curiosity that shown in the boy's eyes. Just as he had appraised Perry's looks, the boy had scoped him out too. Perry stood up and Pat saw the boy was nearly his height, something else in common.

"So if you don't bowl, what interests do you have?" Perry asked.

"I'm an artist, I like sketching things," Pat admitted. He never told anyone that, but he was telling Perry. "I like photography too."

Should he tell Perry about the pictures? The kid would be shocked, perhaps angry. Pat decided to keep his mouth shut. Maybe it wouldn't be necessary since Perry already seemed interested.

"I guess you were here when Berger went after Barry," Perry said.

"I was ... I stopped it."

"Oh ... that was you? Berger said some guy slammed his head into the wall," Perry said.

"Not true, I knocked his head into one of the other boys."

"That's what Riley said happened and he had a lump on his head to prove it. Figures Berger would lie."

"Are you friends with Berger?" Pat asked.

"Friends? No, you might say we're only acquainted," Perry replied. "So what do you draw?"

"Right now I'm doing the Parsons' mill house," Pat said.

Perry looked shocked. "The lake house? Nobody goes up there anymore after that girl drowned. They have No Trespassing signs all over the place."

"I have permission," Pat said.

Perry smiled. "I'll just bet you do. Are you any good?"

"I'll have to show you," Pat said. "Perhaps you can come up there with me sometime."

Perry shuddered. "That place is spooky ... but if you say it's okay, sure."

He reached under the counter and pulled out a business card. "That's my home number. As you might guess my Dad doesn't answer the phone, just me. Leave a message if no one picks up."

"Good, I was thinking of going up there Saturday morning. I'll call and see if you want to come along."

"Saturday works for me," Perry said.

"I don't want Berger to know about any of this," Pat said. "That boy is trouble."

Perry shrugged. "He's not so bad, but I won't tell him."

Barry came back at that point with a box under his arm. If he noticed how chummy Pat and Perry had become he didn't say anything.

"Are you going to fix your car?" Perry asked.

"It just needs a little glue and some paint," Barry said. "Are we ready to go?"

"Sure," Pat said. "Later, Perry."

"Bye," Perry replied, and then went back to the shoes.

They were on their bikes and headed back to Barry's house when the boy finally asked, Pat knew he would.

"So ... how did it go? Are you married yet?"

"Funny man," Pat replied. "I'm going to take him into the woods on Saturday."

"Jeez, that was fast. Up to the mill house no doubt."

"I'm not planning anything dramatic," Pat said. "I just want to get to know him better."

"So you won't tell him about the photos," Barry said.

"No, I don't want to piss him off."

"Like I said, he's a nice guy. I predict you two will make a nice couple," Barry said.

"I don't know what I want, Barry."

Pat looked over and saw Barry nod. "We rarely know what we want, and what we want isn't always good for us. I don't think that applies to Perry. He's not a want ... I think he's a need. You need something, Pat ... maybe this is it."

"I'll make my best effort to find out."

He thought about calling Perry on Thursday night, but waited until Friday afternoon and got the voicemail.

"Perry, this is Pat calling you about tomorrow. Call me back, please." And he left the phone number.

The hours ticked by without an answer. It was after dinner when the phone rang and Mike picked it up.

"Pat, the phone is for you," Mike yelled. "It's not a girl just some guy named Perry ... "

And Pat snatched the phone away from his brother. "Get lost, punk."

Mike stuck out his tongue and Pat gave him the finger in reply.

"Hello?"

"Don't you just love brothers? Thank goodness mine is older," Perry said.

"His opinion is like his dick, it doesn't count," Pat said.

Perry laughed. "So about tomorrow ... where and when?"

"I live at the corner of Woodside and Hillcrest, you might as well come here since where we're going is right across the highway ... .ten o'clock?"

"Sure, what should I bring?"

Pat thought about that a moment. "I'm wearing shorts and I can bring lunch. You have far to come?"

"We live in Hillandale, about four miles by bike. Yeah, ten o'clock works for me. Sorry I waited so long to call you but ... well, I'll explain tomorrow when I see you," Perry said.

"That works. I'll see you in the morning."

"Bye," Perry said and hung up the phone.

Pat felt elated, and then realized Mike had been spying on his conversation. He set the phone down quietly and crept out into the hall. Mike was around the corner in the front entranceway when Pat jumped him.

Mike started laughing as Pat pulled him to the floor and then squealed when fingers closed around his balls through the fabric of his shorts.

"You want to keep those precious balls you will stop spying on me," Pat said. "Otherwise I'm going to tie your dick in a knot and when you cum it'll blow out your ass."

"Mom!" Mike yelled.

It was Pat's turn to laugh. "You forget she's not on your team this week after the waterpark. So mind your own business."

Mike nodded and Pat released his hold on his brother's ball sac. "Who is Perry?" Mike asked.

"His dad runs the bowling lanes and I'm his newest friend," Pat said.

"Oh, that's clever."

"Stick around, little brother, I can teach you some better tricks than the sorry ones you use now. Like be sure and flush the toilet after you play with yourself. Darlene already told Mom someone was leaving scummy stuff in the toilet."

Mike blushed three shades of red and Pat let him up off the floor. There, that ought to keep his mind occupied, Pat thought. He went to his room, shut the door and locked it. He took out his camera and cleared the memory card before inserting fresh batteries. He wanted pictures tomorrow, and some of them would be of Perry.

Not the naked kind, he had those. The boy was attractive and he would be fun to draw. A portrait maybe, but for that he would need a good photo for reference. Pat went in the bottom drawer of his bureau and pulled out the stack of sketchbooks.

He had drawn every member of his immediate family, but that had all been done years ago back when he first started. His memory of those attempts was not good, and now as he turned the pages he understood why. There had been no emotion in the work back then. It was all lines and angles.

Not to say that they were terrible, they just lacked feeling. If an artist didn't have a feel for the subject then it appeared wooden. Of the four drawings he liked the one of Darlene best, she had been five ... perhaps it had been her age. He smiled at the one of Mike, remembering that he had erased the horns that had suddenly appeared on the boy's head. What a brat he was.

People were hard subjects and so Pat had taken to drawing objects, houses and buildings. There was no lack of interesting architecture in Millersville, just nothing as dramatic as the Parsons' mill. That would be his masterpiece and perhaps Barry would agree. It ought to go in the school art show.

He took the flash drive from his pocket and called up the images once again. Perry was outstanding, and not just because he was half naked. Compared to his body the equipment between his legs looked of normal size. If he was to make a drawing of Perry and it turned out well then he might ask the boy to pose again in the altogether.

Pat shook his head. How would he ever ask Perry to pose nude? Tomorrow they would hike around the woods, talk, eat some lunch, talk some more ... at least he would get to know the boy better. That was the right thing to do before they had sex, wasn't it? Looking at the photo again Pat realized that sex with Perry would definitely be of the adult kind.

The last few nights Pat had taken out the dildo and held it as he masturbated to thoughts of sex with Perry. The boy was easily as big as the rubber toy, but then his courage failed. It was going to hurt ... he had no doubt about that. He just hoped Perry was just as inexperienced and then they could avoid the pain.

Pat read online for a while and looked at several of his favorite websites that featured young artists. His own drawing skills had been self-taught, and all those years of trial and error could probably have been better directed by someone with professional skills. But he had been too shy to ask and afraid of being perceived as different.

Barry was right though, the drawings would bring him some notoriety at school. Pat liked the architectural stuff best and so he began to take apart the sketchbook. There was a blank wall in his room beside the windows. He had a large Irish flag over his bed, and the Guinness bar sign he had inherited from his grandfather on the other wall. It was time to declare his passion.

Pat dug the box of push pins out of his desk and began to arrange the drawings in the blank space. Each was ten by fourteen inches, but when he was done with the mill house it would be much larger. To accommodate that future drawing he left a three foot square space in the middle. Barry would appreciate this, but he had done it to show Perry.

Like most boys his age, Pat stayed up late that night and didn't awaken until eight in the morning. Time enough to shower, eat some breakfast and make the lunch he would share later on. He packed the lunch in his backpack along with some bottled water, camera, his sketchbook and assorted drawing tools. Then just for good measure he laid a small stadium blanket in on top of the load.

He was out in the driveway just before ten o'clock in time to see Perry wheel his bike around the corner and wave.

"Right on time," Pat said.

"Yeah, that's me."

Perry wore an Army green t-shirt and khaki colored shorts, but he had on heavy socks and hiking boots as if to prove he was ready for anything.

"Maybe I better grab some sunscreen, it's going to be a hot one," Pat said. "Come on in."

Pat's father was working, Mom and Darlene out for the morning. That left Mike, who was in the shower at the moment. Perry followed Pat down the hall and into his bedroom.

"You are an artist," Perry said, approaching the wall of drawings. Pat grabbed the bottle of sunscreen off the top of his bureau and turned to look at Perry. The boy was appraising his work and Pat wondered if he had an eye for art.

"You did wonders with the shadowing in this one," Perry said, pointing at the old Victorian house in Millersville Pat had captured. "Imagine having to scrape off the old peeling paint and applying a new coat. My grandparents had a house like that, said it was a real pain to keep up."

"I loved the turrets and the gingerbread on the gables," Pat said. "I did that when I was in sixth grade."

"So you've been doing this a while. What's this big space in the middle all about?"

"I'm going to put the new drawing of the Parsons' mill house in there," Pat said.

"A big one, huh, that will be nice."

The bathroom door opened and Mike walked out with a towel around his waist. The boy looked at Perry and Pat could see his mouth about to open with some inane comment.

"Did you remember to flush?" Pat asked.

Mike blushed again and rolled his eyes before hurrying off to his bedroom and slamming the door. Pat just grinned.

"Little brother has a new toy," Pat said, using his hand to mime jerking off.

Perry smiled. "Ah, the pains of growing up."

"Let's go before he asks too many questions," Pat said.

He added the sunscreen to his pack and hefted it onto his shoulder. They walked across the yard and down the path to the trees.

"Looks like you come this way often," Perry said.

"The path was here when we first got the house. Mike runs around down here but he doesn't cross the highway. I would just as soon keep him off the Parsons' property."

"Probably a good idea," Perry said.

They crossed the highway and began the hike up the driveway. The trees seemed denser now that summer was in full swing. The smell of the pines and the small wildflowers along the covered lane made for a pleasant walk.

"Oh, I'm sorry I waited so long to call you back yesterday," Perry said. "Dad and I went to the cemetery to see my mother's grave. We try to go every year on the anniversary of her death."

"I'm sorry ... how long ago did she die?" Pat asked.

"I was six. Mom died giving birth to a little girl who didn't survive either. She was deaf which is how my parents met. They sort of complimented one another in many ways, at least what I can remember of her. My Dad did a good job of raising my brother and me. Brad is at the University now, athletic scholarship and all that."

"It must have been very difficult," Pat said.

"Yeah, but I guess it was better because I was too young to understand everything about my loss. I was focused on my father at that age, and at least I was able to work with his handicap."

"I think you're a very independent person, that takes courage," Pat said.

Perry smiled. "Thank you, I think I am, too ... independent that is."

Pat laughed. "We can test your courage later on."

They reached the top of the driveway and Perry stared at the house. "Wow, no wonder you want to draw it."

Pat set the pack down on the table and turned to look at the house. He always spent the first few minutes gazing at the beauty of the place and checking things out. It just seemed like a good idea to see if anything had changed, but just seeing the table and chair still sitting there was reassuring.

"From what I gather the mill was in operation back in the 1800's," Pat said. "The great-grandfather bought it and began converting it, I don't know if he ever finished or if his son kept up the work. I've met the current grandson, John Parsons. He's the one gave me permission to be here."

"Will he object to my presence?" Perry asked.

"I don't think so, but don't ever bring Berger up here."

"Oh don't worry about that," Perry said. "Look, about Berger ... he's not a close friend. I mean we do things together ... I don't know what I was thinking when I made friends with him."

Pat wasn't about to reveal what he knew of that relationship. If Perry wanted to tell him then eventually he would, especially if they grew closer.

"Berger is just another anomaly in life, I don't spend much time thinking about him," Pat said.

"So are you going to draw something?" Perry asked.

"Maybe after lunch. We can go look around if you want, John doesn't seem to mind. There's only one rule, we can't go around the back of the house. See those windows up there? Old Mr. Parsons is up on the third floor in a bed and John says he can see out the back windows. It might disturb him if he sees someone out by the lake."

"Oh, I am not going anywhere near that lake," Perry said.

"You know about the Hudson girl, did you hear about the slaves drowned out there?" Pat asked.

"I heard, but I don't believe it."

"Neither do I ... let's go look around."

Pat picked up his pack and led the way towards the barn and up the driveway beside it. They stopped behind the building and gazed out at the vineyard. The rows of vines were covered in dark green leaves, but it was too far off to see if there were any grapes.

"You think they make wine here?" Perry asked.

"I doubt it. They probably truck the fruit off to some winery like the one out in Burtonsville. Sorry, I read about the process online."

"I don't know anything about farming," Perry said.

"Neither do I. But the vines have had grapes since early spring and they won't be ready until the end of August."

"You think they taste any good?

"I doubt it, have you ever tasted wine? Nasty stuff ... so, let's go look at the house," Pat suggested.

He showed Perry the details on the porch and the dust piles from the crumbling brick. They stood at the back corner of the house and looked at the water chute.

"So that's where the water wheel would have been," Perry said.

"Yeah, it's a real shame they still don't have one. I would love to see the mill machines in action, but I imagine they would be noisy as hell."

Perry looked at the pier. "So that's where it happened?"

"Apparently," Pat said. "So let's walk downstream, I want to show you something."

After winding in and out of the trees they reached the rope bridge. Pat grinned and nodded at the bridge.

"I crossed that, it's not as easy as it looks."

"I could do it, can we try?" Perry asked.

"Sure, over and back," Pat said, dropping his pack to the ground. "I'll go first so you can see what it takes."

He mounted the footrope and carefully placed his hand on the side ropes. The last time he had just gone for it figuring the worst that could happen was a little dunking. Now he had Perry watching and didn't want to make a fool of himself if he fell.

The ropes swayed but Pat focused on his feet like he had before and soon he was across.

"See, nothing to it," Pat yelled.

"Yeah, right," Perry replied.

He mounted the footrope and gingerly stepped out, trying to move cautiously. The hand ropes were pretty much for balance, otherwise this was like walking a tightrope. Perry shuffled along and it took him almost five minutes to inch across. He jumped down in triumph.

"That takes some practice," He said.

"Just don't lean too hard on the hand ropes and it goes fine. Ready to go back?" Pat asked.

Perry nodded. "Might as well get it over with."

He stood back up on the footrope and began to inch his way across. He was about halfway when a bird darted right out in front of him and Perry lost his balance. He grabbed the hand rope on the left and pulled himself upright, but then he let go of the right. His body arched between the left hand rope and the footrope which promptly spread apart as he dropped towards the water.

Perry yelled just as he splashed down in a graceful belly flop. The next thing he knew a pair of arms was pulling him upright and Pat was there, both of them standing in about three feet of water.

"My hero," Perry said, and then his eyes met Pat's.

They were close, as close as they had ever been, and Perry smiled. The thought came out of nowhere, lost in the confusion of wet clothes and bodies. The smile and those eyes seemed to sweep any sense of control out of Pat's mind. He leaned forward and their lips met.

It was crazy, and Pat almost pulled away before he realized Perry was kissing back and their hands were sliding around one another. It was the most passionate moment either of them had ever experienced, and that kiss seemed to last forever as their bodies came together.


On to Chapter Five

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