Some Guys had been recommended to Sam by a couple of friends who thought he'd be put off by a regular resort. Since Sam and Harry had often hosted nude parties around their pool, they knew the clothing-optional feature would also appeal to him-not to mention the willing and eager men who frequented the place. They were right.

The day was bright and sunny, and Sam, once checked in, spent the rest of the afternoon lying in the sun by the pool. At five o'clock he joined the other guests for complimentary wine and cheese provided by the management. It was a great way to meet the other guys.

By late afternoon it had grown cool, and Sam had put on a pair of shorts and a tee shirt. Two other guests whom he'd met earlier in the day, a couple named Jack and Pete, asked if he was cold.

"Yeah," Sam answered. "This afternoon was wonderful, but it's gotten a little cool now."

"Cool?" asked Jack who, along with Pete was still naked from the afternoon. "We think it's downright balmy! Of course if you were from Minnesota like we are, you'd probably find it the same way."

Sam laughed. "Probably true. But I'm from Los Angeles where I'd be wearing a sweater or a jacket about now. But even here, I need of something to keep me warm...."

Pete looked at him and smiled. "Well, if you need something to keep you warm..." He didn't finish the sentence, but his meaning was clear.

Sam grinned. "What say we go to dinner together and see what develops?"

It seemed a good idea, so they consulted with Bob, one of the owners of the place, who recommended a couple of restaurants. They ended up at El Mirasol, a Mexican place with Margaritas which Jack pronounced Fantastic!

After dinner they went back to the resort where something did, in fact, develop, and Sam spent several blissful hours being kept warm by Jack and Pete..

Sam was up early the next morning and found Bob out on the patio, putting out muffins and donuts to go with the coffee that he'd made.

"So what brings you out at this early hour?" Bob asked, pouring two cups of coffee.

"I don't know. Just had enough sleep, I guess." He accepted a cup of coffee from Bob but shook his head when Bob gestured at the baked goods. "I think I'll wait and go find me a proper breakfast. Then I'm going to out to see my house."

They sat at one of the small umbrella tables. "You have a house here?"

"Yeah, but I've never seen it. I inherited it last year."

"So you're going to leave us and move into it?"

Sam laughed. "Someday, I guess. But the place has been vacant for a few years and I don't have any idea what sort of shape it's in. But if it's like I think it'll be, I imagine I'll be here with you guys for a while."

Bob stretched in the early morning sun. "I'm sure we can squeeze you in somewhere, for as long as you need." He smiled as a handsome man came up and kissed him. "Mornin', sleepyhead," he said.

The new arrival leaned across the table and shook Sam's hand. "I'm Roger," he said, "the other naked innkeeper. I think I checked you in yesterday, didn't I?"

Bob grinned at him. "You are getting senile, forgetting you checked in a handsome man like Sam."

"Oh, yeah. Sam Davis, room 27, open-ended stay, right?"

Sam nodded. "If you can find me a bed."

Roger laughed. "Oh, I'm sure a handsome guy like you will be able to find a lot of available beds. Now sleeping in them, that may be a different matter."

"Not to worry. I've been told that I'm very cuddly, and that often leads to sleep. Eventually."

Both Roger and Bob laughed. Bob turned to Roger and said in a little-boy voice, "Can we keep him, Daddy? He's just so cute; we can't send him away."

"If you want him to stay, he may stay," Roger said, looking at Sam, "for as long as he likes." He poured himself a cup of coffee and selected a donut from the box on the bar. "You know, Bob, you really shouldn't buy these things. They're not good for you."

"Me? They're not good for me? I'm not the one scarffing them down! Besides, I didn't buy them. Harry and Sam did."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Harry and Sam?"

Roger turned, glad for the change of subject. "I guess you haven't met them yet. Sam is our son, Bob's and mine, and Harry is his partner. They live just over there," he said, indicating the wall behind them. "Sam's offices are there, and their cottage is next to it. They like to help out around the place."

"You'll come to dinner some night and meet them," Bob said. "You'll like them. Now, tell us about this house."

Sam told them what little he knew about the place. By the time he finished, he'd also told them a little about Harry and their relationship. Later Bob would tell Roger that what Sam needed was to find a man he could settle down with and make a life. And Some Guys probably wasn't the ideal place to do that.

Sam headed for his house with high hopes, which, when he found the place, crumbled just like the wall around it. Sam got out of his car and took stock: block wall with very little stucco left on it, badly rusted front gate, driveway gate secured with a newer chain and large padlock, dead vegetation everywhere he could see. He thought about scaling the wall but when he stood on tiptoes and ran his hand along the top he found it embedded with sharp rocks and, perhaps, glass.

"Excuse me. May I help you?"

Sam hadn't seen anyone approach and jumped at the sound of the man's voice. "Uh, it's okay. I own the place."

The man, who evidently had been walking the huge dog standing beside him, stuck out his hand. "Oh, well then-"

Sam went to take the hand but jumped back when the dog began sniffing him, starting with his crotch.

The man laughed. "He won't hurt you; he's gentle as a lamb. He just wants to see if you have a dog."

"Well, I don't know about the gentle part," Sam said, tentatively reaching out to let the dog sniff his hand, "but he's sure big as a lamb. What is he, anyway?"

"Great Dane," the man said. "Biggest, smartest and gentlest dog in the world." He took the hand the dog was sniffing and shook it. "I'm Tom. Tom Whacker. Live there, next door." He gave Sam a long look. "Don't know how you could have bought the place though. Hasn't been on the market for years."

"Oh, uh, well, I guess I inherited it."

Tom narrowed his eyes. "Who died?"

Sam's first thought was to tell the man that it was none of his business, but then thought better of it. "A man named McKibben, Harry McKibben."

Tom thought for a few moments while the dog went back to vacuuming Sam's clothes. He smiled, "Then you must be The Hunk."

"The hunk?"

"McKibben's boyfriend. Heard all about you from Jack and Larry-you know, the guys who used to own the place." He stepped back and looked Sam up and down. "They weren't kidding, either."

Sam blushed a little and looked off into the distance, trying to remember. Finally it came to him. "Oh, yeah, tall guys, both of them, one bald, the other with a beard. Nice guys. Stayed with us a couple of times."

"They're the ones. After they lost all that money in the futures market, your Harry bought the place from them, let them live in it free. I always thought he'd sell the place after Jack and Larry died."

Sam laughed. "I think he forgot about it."

Tom's face fell. "I guess if you inherited the place that must mean that Harry McKibben is dead. I'm sorry to hear that. It must be pretty hard on you, after all these years."

"I'm learning to live with it-one day at a time."

Tom brightened up. "Well, I suppose you'll be wanting to see the place. Come on next door. I think we have a key to the lock on the big gates." He turned to the dog. "Come on, Tige, lets go home."

"Tige? That's the dog's name? "

Tom smiled. "Yeah, it's kind of a joke. Before your time, I imagine. Back in my day there was this shoe company called Brown. They had a cartoon kid named Buster, and Buster had a cartoon dog. There was a jingle: My name's Buster Brown; I live in a shoe. That's my dog Tige; he lives there, too."

"Don't you think he's a little big to live in a shoe?"

Tom grinned. "Big shoe. Remember, the kid lived in it, too."

Tom led Sam through a gate that opened onto a walkway that led across the lawn to Tom's house. "Is my house anything like this?" he asked.

"Not really. This one is more Spanish/Moorish in character while yours is more what they now call Mid-Century Modern. Or was. Jack and Larry made a lot of changes to it; in my opinion, not all of them for the good. Come on in and meet Dan"

Dan Godges was the exact opposite of Tom Whacker. Where Tom was tall and had salt-and-pepper hair, Dan was less so and had no hair at all. Where Tom was outgoing and talkative, Dan was quiet, almost shy. They played well against each other.

After introductions, Dan went to find the key to the lock on the driveway. In the meantime Tom took Sam on a tour of the house. Sam found it all beautiful, but the heavy, dark Spanish furniture was more than he thought he would be comfortable living with. But it all fit with the Spanish/Moorish theme, and the windows opening out on the garden brought in a lot of light, which minimized the effect of the dark, carved wood and heavy fabrics.

Dan found them in the kitchen and handed a key to Tom, who, in turn, handed it to Sam. "We put the chain on the gates after someone tried to break into the place. The alarm company said they only got notified if someone went into the house, not just onto the grounds. They have a key, too, just in case."

Leaving Tige to have a nap, the three went next door. The key fit the lock, and, to Sam's surprise, the key that Alistair had given him actually unlocked the front door.

Inside, everything was covered with a thick layer of dust and fine sand, and the air smelled of mold and dry-rot. One of the windows in the living room had cracked in several places, and part of it was missing; a pipe had broken in the master bathroom, and all the little tiles on the floor were loose. The toilet was cracked and came crashing apart when Sam touched it. The kitchen was...well... Sam tried not to think about the kitchen. The place was, in short, a disaster.

There was an odd assortment of furniture scattered around the house, and Sam asked Tom and Dan what had happened to all the other stuff.

"Well," Tom said, "Jack and Larry left instructions to let their friends come in and take what they wanted. So we held a sort of open house one Saturday, and they came and took stuff away. This is what's left. Not much, is it?"

Sam shook his head. "I wouldn't have wanted any of their things anyway. This," he waved his arm taking in the entire house, "will all go to the dump. Unless there's anything you guys want."

"Well, if you wouldn't mind..." Dan said, holding out a framed photograph. It was of Sam, when he was about twenty-six or seven, standing on the diving board of the Beverly Hills pool. He was naked.

"I'm flattered," Sam said, rubbing at the tarnish with his thumb. "Of course. Anything you want." As he handed the photograph back to Dan, there was a sudden, very loud ringing sound. "What the hell's that?"

"Phone. They were both a bit deaf toward the end," Tom said as he crossed the room and picked up the handset on what Sam had thought was simply an interesting antique. Tom listened for a moment and held it out to Sam. "Alarm company. They want to talk to you."

While he was talking to the company supervisor, a security guard in a rather well-fitting uniform walked in, his right hand resting on the gun in the holster on his belt. He looked at Sam and growled, "What're you doing?"

Sam grinned. "Talking to your supervisor. Here." He held out the phone.

The guard shook his head. "What's his name?"

"Her name is Cynthia." He listened for a moment. "And the word for the day is wombat." He tried to choke back his laughter but didn't quite make it. "Wombat?"

The guard took the phone from Sam.

It took a while but they finally got it all sorted out, and the security guard showed Sam how to arm and disarm the alarm.