T.R. Deason was proud of his two young sons. His love bubbled up as he watched them playing, giving him a lump in his throat. He glanced at his wife sitting in the metal rocker he'd bought for her when Tommy was born. That was eight years ago. The old Elm tree shaded her and his youngest son, his third son, who was nearly a year old. He was a sickly child.

They'd named him Henry after his wife's brother. And of course he'd immediately been called 'little Hank'. Hank was a loving child who was always wanting to be held. T.R. loved the way the child clung to him when he held him.

When he was born the umbilical cord had been wrapped around his neck. He came out blue from lack of oxygen. The midwife had quickly cut the cord and blew air into his lungs. He'd started breathing right away, but it took a while for the blueness to leave his skin. Even then he'd never been red like his two older brothers. No, he'd always been pale. T.R. wondered if he would be retarded. But other than being smaller and more delicate than his brothers, there seemed to be nothing wrong with the boy

He turned back to watch the two older boys. Tommy was such a great kid. He loved his younger brothers. Always ready to give them his full attention; never shunning them like other kids did their siblings. Joey was only two years old and Tommy was already teaching him how to ride a stick horse and shoot his toy pistol.

T.R. leaned against the barn door and recalled how he'd fought his father when he'd insisted that he get married and live on this ranch. He'd been a playboy growing up in Austin. Through high school and college he'd played the field and never been serious about any one girl he'd dated. He'd been popular with all the girls with his tall, towheaded handsomeness, his broad shoulders and slim hips.

As he watched his boys, his heart was filled with love and pride. He was glad his father had won.

"Hi, Uncle Jace? This is Judd," the voice on the phone said. My mind went into active overdrive. The baritone voice on the phone didn't fit the little boy image in my head. I took too long to answer. He added more information. "I'm Tom and Betty's oldest son."

"I know who you are, Judd, your voice just doesn't match up with what you looked like the last time I saw you," I said as I visualized the beautiful little towheaded boy that I remembered crying the morning I left the Pecos ranch.

"I'm twenty-two Uncle Jace," he chuckled. "You haven't seen me since I was thirteen. I've grown up."

'No shit,' I thought to myself. "So, to what do I owe this call, Judd?" I asked.

"Dad told me to call you. He thought you might be willing to put me up for a bit."

What the hell was Tom thinking? He knows I am gay. That's why I live in L.A. and not somewhere in Texas near the rest of my family.

I was 19 when I had exiled myself, after getting caught in the barn playing around with a hired hand. My father fired the man and tried to whip me with a rawhide rope - not for interfering with the hired help's work - but for being queer. He said he was going to whip the queerness out of me. He laid that doubled rawhide across my bared back one time before I wrenched the stiff braided rope out of his hand and yelled, "This is so much bullshit." I stuck my face in his, and hissed at him, "You lay your hate-filled hands on me again and I'll beat the living shit out of you, Ol' Man."

Then I decked him. He sat spraddle-legged in the dirt with a surprised look on his face. I squatted in front of him... got right down in his face. "I don't know what I ever did to lose your love, Daddy. But know this... if I am a queer it's because you bred it into me. It's in your blood, Daddy." I stood up looking at him in disgust. I threw the rope into his lap and walked into the house.

I still have the scars across my back from that rope, but the emotional scars are even more vivid. I'd been the apple of the ol' man's eye. I think he loved me more than any of my brothers. He took me everywhere with him when I was little. And then as I grew into puberty he seemed to distance himself from me, giving me a cold shoulder.

I was four years younger than Hank. He and Joe were almost like twins. There was only eleven months difference in their age. I don't suppose that they ever experienced our father's love like I had. I wondered if Tom had; he was nearly six years older than Joe. I knew there had always been an animosity between our father and Tom; I still wondered why.

As Mom doctored my back, she scolded, "That was mighty disrespectful, Jace, striking your father and talking to him that way." I realized that she had watched and hadn't intervened in my behalf. That hurt more than the stinging welts on my back.

"Mom, I may have chosen the wrong time to be playing around. I should have been punished for that, not for being what I am. I didn't choose to be liking men instead of girls, I was born this way. When Dad caught Joe and Hank playing around with each other last year all he did was tell them to be more discreet."

"I've always hoped that you'd come around like Tom did. He never paid a speck of attention to girls until his best friend, Jim Brady, got married. Then he up and married Betty Jean. Just like that.... He and that Jim Brady still see a lot of each other, going off hunting and camping all the time. Still.... he and Betty Jean are happy together with their brood of kids."

Dinner that evening was strange. After I'd decked Dad and stormed into the house, he'd jumped into his pickup and left in a trail of dust. Hank, Joe, Mom and me quietly ate our dinner... conscious of Dad missing from the head of the table.

Hank came into my room after everybody had gone to bed. I was packing my clothes and a few books. He stood in the doorway watching me for several minutes before he spoke.

"I guess it is best that you get away from here, Jace. Dad always seemed to like you the best... expected more from you... so his hate will probably be stronger than it is for Tom. Go make something of yourself - but I sure am going to miss you, Little Brother." He hugged me and went back to his room. I stood staring at the empty space where he'd been standing in the doorway wondering what he knew that I didn't.

After breakfast, before my brothers went out to work, Joe shook my hand, gave me a hug and said he'd see me sometime. He never had a lot to say. Hank gave me a hug and just turned and walked out the door with Joe. Tom had stopped in for breakfast; I guess to keep the peace.... Mom had probably called him. He'd been very pensive all through breakfast, staring at me most of the time. If he wasn't looking at me, he was staring balefully at Dad. When Tom got up from the table he nodded at me, glared at Dad and walked out. Tom never said anything to me before I left. Betty Jean, Tom's wife, stopped over later. She hugged me, kissed my cheek, wished me the best of luck and then walked back across the yard to her own house.

When I left later that morning, only Mom and little Judd were there to say goodbye. Judd cried and clung to my waist for a moment before he fled into the house, letting the screen door slam behind him. That was the last time I had seen him.

I talk to all three of my brothers two or three times a year. And my mom, well, I talk to her every month or so, but I haven't seen her since that day I left the ranch. I still resent that she had passively condoned the ol' man using a rawhide rope on me. My two middle brothers, Joe and Hank, have come out to visit. They are both still bachelors. I suspect there's something between them, but they have never said anything to me about it. I haven't asked because it's really none of my business. But my oldest brother Tom and his family have never come out to visit. I've often mused over my childhood and wondered if Tom's marriage was really a cover-up for the 'friendship' between him and Jim Brady, Betty Jean's brother, who ran the ranch just north of ours.

Now Tom wants me to take his oldest boy in. There's something fishy going on here. But, hey... the kid is family. I can't turn away family, so I said, "Well, sure, Judd, but there's one thing, I live in a loft. I've only got one bed. You'll have to sleep on a sofa or bring a bedroll and sleep on the floor."

"That's no problem, Uncle Jace."

I couldn't think of any other reasonable objections, so I said, "Okay, come on out."

It was set that he would fly into LAX Thursday morning. That was only two days away. Shit, that meant that my privacy was going to be nonexistent for at least a week or more. I had lived by myself for the last five years. I was accustomed to not being disturbed for hours on end as I worked at my word processor.

I was feeling a little guilty telling Judd he had to sleep on the floor. My brothers always stayed at a motel near Disneyland when they came out. After I thought about it, I decided to go shopping for an old fold-up cot at the Army surplus store. I could keep it in my storage space out by the elevator after he leaves.

Thursday morning I was working at my word processor and had paused for a slug of my fourth cup of sludge. That's what I call the extra strong coffee I drink mixed with Ovaltine and dry milk... mocha ala Jace. I realized that I had no idea what Judd looked like and I'm quite sure he didn't know what I looked like either. Eleven years can bring a lot of changes, especially to a thirteen year old kid. I got a piece of foam board and printed his name in bold black letters... JUDD DEASON.

At 10:15 I was standing across the room from the gate that he soon would be coming through. I watched his plane taxi up to the building and in a couple of minutes passengers were pouring out. I held the sign above my head looking for recognition of the name. A few seconds after the last passenger walked through the gate, a little elderly woman was brought out in a wheel chair. Her family gathered around her and whisked her away.

I waited a couple of minutes and no one else came out. I'd just started toward the attendant behind the check-in desk, when a short male flight attendant came staggering through the gate carrying a canvas covered bedroll just like a real cowboy carries on the back of his saddle. Behind him came a tall lanky young blonde fellow who could be no other than my nephew. He looked just like his dad and uncles. My heart stuck in my throat as I looked at him. Damn, he was good looking. I had always had this weakness for long, lanky towheaded cowboys.

He looked like he'd just come in off the range. He wore scuffed up old boots. His Levi's, worn low on his near nonexistent hips, were held up by the ubiquitous wide tooled leather belt, fastened by a big silver and turquoise buckle. The striped western shirt, unbuttoned halfway down to his navel, exposed a furry chest. His shirt sleeves were rolled up above his elbows, the material stretched to the max by his biceps. He looked like a real Texas cowboy. He was as tall as I am, but probably fifty pounds lighter.

He saw me and there was instant recognition in his slate-blue eyes. How not, I looked just like his dad. He grinned and pushed his wide brimmed hat to the back of his head, letting his white blonde hair fall over his forehead. Leaving the little flight attendant to struggle with the bedroll, he headed toward me carrying two small bags. He dropped them and wrapped me in a hug.

There was a big 'whump' next to us as the bedroll was dropped to the floor. Judd turned and gave the little guy a one-armed hug. "Thanks, Danny, I don't know how I could have managed without you," he said.

The flight attendant looked like he had just received a special dispensation from the Pope. He adoringly smiled up at Judd; there was gratitude in his eyes. "My pleasure, totally," he replied, then turned to wander back toward the gate.

Judd reached down and took both bags in one hand and grasped the tie-rope on the bedroll with his other and slung it up onto his shoulder with ease. I raised an eyebrow at him and he blushed and grinned. Damn, he was cute when he did that. "He insisted, so I let him," he explained with a shrug.

I left him at the luggage carousel and went to get my Cherokee. When I pulled up to the curb, Judd was waiting with two large suitcases plus the bedroll and the two bags he had carried off the plane. He was shaking a man's hand, apparently another volunteer helper.

"Looks like you're planning on staying awhile," I said, as I opened up the rear of my Jeep.

He looked at his luggage, blushed and shrugged. "Mom." Just the one word of blame was his explanation.

I merged with the traffic on the 105 heading east. As I relaxed in the center lane, I looked over at Judd. I should have known what he would look like; hell, he's a Deason. He's tall, slender-hipped, with wide shoulders, and he's sexy as all get out, too. I studied him with quick glances as he watched the heavy traffic speeding 70 miles an hour down the wide freeway. He was a wide-eyed country boy getting his first view of L.A. "Okay, Judd, what has pushed you out of West Texas? And why come to L.A., other than to see your favorite, hither-to ignored, Uncle?" I asked, breaking the silence.

He looked at me for a bit before he answered. "A couple of reasons. One, you've worked in the movie industry and I thought you could maybe help me," he said.

I laughed. "Hey, you're a damn good-looking kid, but this town is full of good-looking wannabe actors."

"I don't want to be an actor. Hell, I couldn't act my way out of a burlap bag. No, I want to be a writer like you, Uncle Jace."

Well, that really threw me for a loop. I'd been sure he would have dreams of being a movie star. "Can you write?" I asked.

"Well, I've won a couple of short story contests. And I took what classes were offered at UTEP (University of Texas at El Paso). My advisor suggested I check out the programs offered at UCLA, especially script writing."

I turned north onto the San Pedro Freeway. It's funny how I never refer to it by its number. Hell, I don't even know its number. It's just the San Pedro Freeway. "Yeah, UCLA has a great writing department. That's where I went to school." I paused. "It's a very competitive field. Few make a big success of it," I said.

"You've done pretty well. I've seen your name on several TV shows."

"I've yet to do a film," I replied.

"You've got two successful books in print. I've read them both."

"You've read my novels?" I asked.

"Sure."

He didn't volunteer what he thought about them and I was afraid to ask if he liked them. But then, I don't know that I cared whether he did or not. To me, writing is a very personal thing. "Those books represent four years of labor. Not much money in return," I said.

He was quiet as I turned east on the 10 and exited on Central. I drove the few blocks to my alley, turned left and then a sharp right thru the two security gates and into the parking garage inside the old factory that had been turned into condos. My condo is half of the top floor facing North so I look out over the downtown area with the mountains as a backdrop. It's a mighty impressive view.

We unloaded and carried his luggage into the old freight lift. I pulled the cage door down and we headed for the fourth floor. I unlocked the heavy metal sliding door and rolled it aside. Judd stepped in and caught his breath; my studio condo was not what he was expecting. He walked directly to one of the big plate glass windows across the room. He gazed out over the I-10 freeway at downtown L.A. and the magnificent San Gabriel Mountains. He turned back to me.

"I was wondering why you would live in an old factory in this run down area. The view is fantastic. And so is this place," he said, pivoting to take in the whole room. "It is huge."

"Over thirty seven hundred square feet. It's big all right, seventy-five by fifty. The original owner of the building had planned on splitting this place. I got to see it before the wall was put in and bought the whole space."

At that moment, Gretchen and Liz decided to make an appearance. Both cats are blue ribbon Ruddy Abyssinians, even though they couldn't be less similar in appearance. Liz is long and lanky with a sleek coat, almost reptilian. Gretch is small and compact. Her coat is almost coarse in feel. Gretch came straight to me wanting to be picked up. Her most favorite spot in the world is on my shoulders. I squatted; she jumped up and settled on my right shoulder with her tail wrapped around my face. I pulled it down under my chin as I stood up. She rubbed her face against mine.

Liz had to check out the stranger in her domain. Judd stood transfixed as she sniffed his boots and then his pant legs. He sat down on the floor, cross-legged. Liz, who is usually rather standoffish with most people, stepped up into his lap, placed her front paws on his chest, sniffed him and then nuzzled his chin. That told me volumes about what kind of person Judd is. If my cats don't like you or at least abide your presence, then I have no use for you. And if you don't like cats, you must be subhuman.

"What kind of cats are these Uncle Jace?" He was stroking Liz's back, hand over hand, and kissing her on top of her head.

"Abbies. Abyssinians."

"Never heard of 'em. They look like miniature mountain lions, don't they? And her purr sounds like one. I think she likes me."

"She is an excellent judge of character. So you must be a good guy."

Just as I started to tell him not to pick her up because she goes kind of schizy, he stood up with her in his arms. She was completely relaxed. I had never seen her do that. Judd petted her a bit, then walked over to the bed and set her down on it. She was disgruntled that he didn't continue to pay attention to her.

"Damn, Unk, this is the biggest bed I've ever seen."

"It's a California King," I said. He turned and looked at me.

"With a bed this big, you're going to make me sleep on the floor?" I ignored his question and envisioned him lying naked on that bed. I quickly thought about boiled turnips and turned to the big French Moderne armoire. I opened the side that I had emptied for his clothes. I bought this place after Ken had walked out of my life. I had furnished it for one person.... ME. "You can hang your clothes in here. And that chest of drawers is all yours. Why don't you get settled in while I fix us some lunch?"

"Sure, Uncle Jace."

The room is divided into living areas with movable screens standing here and there to break the view. I walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. I had already prepared the makings for sandwiches and salad. I tossed a bowl of salad greens with made-from-scratch vinaigrette, set the platter of meats and cheese along with a plate of sliced tomatoes on the table and got out two place mats, plates and flatware. I filled two glasses with ice and set a pitcher of sweetened tea and a bottle of Coke on the table. Lunch was ready.

Meanwhile, Judd had opened one of the big suitcases on the end of the bed and had emptied its contents into the chest of drawers. As he closed it, I told him to just set it over by the door, later we could lock it in the cage out by the lift.

"Thanks, Uncle Jace," he said as he carried it to the door. He carried the other large suitcase over to the door, too, and set it beside the emptied one.

"Judd, drop the 'Uncle' bit. I'm only six years older than you. We're both adults. Call me Jace."

He looked at me with mischief in his eyes. "Six years? That makes you sooo old. I think I'd better continue calling you Unk."

He had turned to his other bags and didn't see me as I tackled him with a headlock. I noogied his scalp with my knuckles. He yelped and tried to throw me off. I had weight on my side. He didn't succeed. "Yell uncle and I'll let you go," I said.

"Okay, Uncle Jace," he giggled.

"Smart Ass." I tightened my grip and gave him another noogy.

"Uncle, uncle, uncle," he yelled. I let go and stepped back. As he rubbed his scalp and smoothed his hair, he looked at me like he was trying to figure out whether he should be angry or not. I noticed that the physical contact had excited him. I grinned.

"Come on, let's have some lunch."

That decided it for him. He couldn't be angry and eat too. He made himself a 'Dagwood' and filled his glass with Coke. I made myself a regular sandwich and had iced tea. We ate in silence for a couple of minutes. I remembered that he had said that he had a couple of reasons for coming out here and he had only given me one. "What is the other reason, Judd?" I asked.

"Reason for what?"

"You said you had a couple of reasons for coming to L.A. What is the other one?"

He ducked his head and laid his half eaten sandwich down."There's no other reason." He suddenly looked like he had lost his best friend.

"You react like that and expect me to believe you? Did you get into trouble back home?"

"No, but I probably would have if I had stayed. Please, Jace, I don't want to talk about it right now."

"Okay, you don't have to. Finish your sandwich."

"Thanks, but I've had enough." He scooted his chair back and left the table. He went back to his unpacking, doing it in slow motion. It appeared that he was doing some serious thinking. The joy of life he had been so full of minutes ago, seemed to have gone out of him. His skin was splotchy, his eyes were red-rimmed and his mouth was turned down in a grimace. We Texas tow-heads splotch when we get upset.

I sat at the table and watched for several minutes, wondering what his problem could be. It was obvious that it was something quite serious. I started adding up all the facts that I had. There weren't that many, but they all led to only one conclusion.

I got up and walked over to Judd. I stood in his way as he turned to take more stuff out of his bags. He attempted to sidestep around me. I turned with him and grabbed his arm. He dropped the batch of socks he had in his hands and burst into tears as he wrapped his arms around my neck, laid his head on my shoulder and sobbed. Damn, I hate to see a grown man cry, although I've done enough of it myself. Still, we should be able to contain our emotions. I hugged him, rubbed a hand up and down his back and made soothing sounds. He eventually calmed down and pulled away from me.

I watched him walk over to one of the windows and stare out for a couple of minutes. Then he turned and looked at me. I walked over and took him back in my arms. "Just let it all go, Judd. You'll feel a lot better."

He relaxed and melded against me. "I'm gay, Jace," he muttered.

"It's okay, Judd, I'd already figured that out, it's okay."

He didn't seem to hear me as he went on releasing his frustration. "Everyone back home was walking around on eggshells after I came out to Dad and Mom. Hell, I think they have known it my whole life, but as long as I didn't right out admit it, they weren't going to deal with it. I know they love me, but they just really don't understand that I didn't choose this. Who in their right mind would?"

We stood there holding each other for several minutes. I think he felt better having admitted it to me. His head still rested on my shoulder, his mouth next to my ear. In between hiccups, barely above a whisper, he said, "I've dreamed about this for years. The real thing is so much better than dreaming about it."

"What are you talking about?"

"You. You holding me in your arms like this. When I was thirteen, soon after you left, I overheard Dad telling Mom that you are gay. I already had a huge crush on you. I was just figuring out that I like men, too, and when I heard that, I decided I definitely wanted to be your lover."

He didn't seem to notice that my posture stiffened.

"I didn't tell them I am gay until a couple of weeks ago. They both seemed to know it already. When Dad suggested that I come visit you, I had already applied to UCLA and when I received an acceptance letter last Monday, I called you. I've dreamed about being here with you for so long. Now I am."

He whispered that all in my ear as I continued to stiffly hold him. I was shocked. I had figured out that he was gay, but to be the object of his attraction..... I was suddenly aware of his hardness pressing against my hip. I lost all the control I had - I responded. Judd became aware of my excitement and pressed against me harder. I loved the feel of this big young man in my arms.

"I love you, Jace. I've loved you since I was a little kid. I want to give you my virginity," he whispered.

I pushed away from him. I was stunned. He is twenty-two and he has saved his cherry for me? Damn, I lost mine when I was fourteen out behind the barn with one of the hired hands. I kind of just assumed that he had, too.

"Judd, I-"

"I'm serious, I have saved myself for you. You do want me... don't you, Jace?"

"What do you think?" I asked as I fled across the room. If I had stayed near him a second longer I would have thrown him to the floor and had my way with him. He looked at me like I had rejected him.

"I'm sorry," he muttered as he scurried across the room, grabbed the empty suitcase and laid it open on the bed. "I'll leave. I should have known better. It was presumptuous of me. Forgive me, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to offend you." He started emptying the drawer back into the suitcase. Tears were coursing down his cheeks.

My mind was doing spin-outs on the slippery road of these revelations. "Stop. Judd, stop. Come over here and sit down. And for Christ's sake, shut up. I'm not offended. There is nothing to forgive. And there's nothing to be sorry about. I've never been so complimented." He meekly sat on the edge of the sofa facing me. "My God, I am deeply honored that you want me to take your cherry." I knelt in front of him. "But let's take it slow, get to know each other. Maybe first find love in our infatuation and lust. What you are offering me is something precious, something to be cherished. What if you don't like me after you get to know me? Will you regret losing your cherry to someone you don't really care for?" I asked.

Strange, I'd never thought anything about incest, or such. I didn't see that two related men having sex with each other was really an issue, especially since there would be none. I was guessing that Tom felt the same way.... otherwise, why would he send Judd to me?

"You're a good man, Jace. And I already love you."

"Judd, it's not going to be difficult to love you. Just give me a little time to get to know you, okay?" I said as I stood up and pulled him up into my arms. For the last four years I had been celibate. I had found a way to be happy, no, not happy-- content. Content without another person in my life. After Ken left, I tried dating. It didn't work. I was sure everyone was out to get close to me so they could rip my heart out like he did. Now, this beautiful young man was wanting me to take his cherry because he loved me. I could feel myself falling. I closed my mind to what Ken had done to me and hoped Judd was the one I could let get close. "You scare the holy shit out of me, Judd. I think I may fall really hard. I can only hope you know what you're doing."

Not replying, he hugged me close, let go and went back to unpacking while I cleaned up the lunch mess. I wrapped the remains of his huge sandwich in Saran wrap and set it on the end of the counter with a freshened Coke. I walked over to my desk on the east side of the room and sat down at my word processor. I turned on the screen and started scrolling what I had written last night. When the lines of words stopped moving, I realized I hadn't retained a word since the first sentence, twenty-six pages back.

I looked up at the object of my distraction. He had finished putting all of his clothes away and was sitting on a stool at the counter eating the rest of his sandwich. He saw me watching him and raised the last bite toward me.

"Thanks, Jace," he mumbled around the mouthful. I propped my chin on my knuckles and smiled. He was so unaware of his effect on me. So pleasant to look at. He downed the last of the Coke and put the dishes in the washer.

"Would you like to take me on a tour of the city, Unk?"

"Call me Unk again and I'll give you a tour back to Pecos. Yes, I'd love to give you a tour. What do you want to see first?"

"Well, I'd like to spend a whole day in the old library downtown, so let's put that off for another day. The Griffith Observatory, Hollywood, Beverly Hills."

"That's a full afternoon. Let's go do it."

When we entered the garage Judd walked over to the passenger side of the Cherokee. I walked on past it. He looked at me with a slight frown as I lifted the cover on the car behind him and started folding it.

"Let's go in this." I said, as my little red 1952 MG was exposed. I unlatched the top from the windshield and laid it back.

"Wow, would I love to drive this beauty." He caressed the door.

"I may let you eventually, but today sit back and enjoy the ride, and the sights." I slid behind the wheel and started her up. She purred a little louder than Liz. Judd hurried around to the other side and scooted in beside me.

"Damn, it's a good thing it's not any smaller, we wouldn't fit."

"I think most men were smaller than us when they built this car."

We sped up Central to Wilshire and turned west toward Hollywood. I drove him through downtown Hollywood and then up Santa Monica Blvd., through ‘boy's town', and into Beverly Hills, down Rodeo Drive and then a tour through some of the residential streets.

As I drove, we talked, telling each other about our lives. I pointed out palatial houses that had once belonged to famous people. We went up Coldwater Canyon to Mulholland Drive which runs along the crest of the hills. We stopped a couple of times so he could look out at the San Fernando Valley and the Los Angeles Basin. The day was so clear we could see Catalina Island across the channel.

"Oh wow, this is the first time I've seen the ocean. Can we go out there some time?" He sounded like a kid in a candy store, eager, wanting it all....and I wanted him to have it all.

We dropped down to Franklin and then up Western to Los Feliz and on to Fern Dell. We drove through the wilderness of Western Canyon Rd. to Observatory Drive. When we parked at the observatory Judd was all eyes. We were high above the city at one of the few remaining examples of fine Art Deco Architecture in Los Angeles.

"Jace, I've studied pictures of this place for years. I love this kind of architecture. It's just so neat." He raised his camera and snapped a shot.

We walked around the grounds. When we reached the back of the structure there were a couple of Japanese fellows taking pictures. Judd handed one of them his camera and asked him to take our picture. We rested our arms on the high wall, chins resting on our arms looking out over the expanse that is L.A. Judd put his arm around my shoulder and just as the fellow snapped the photo he turned and kissed my cheek. I turned and looked at him. "Thanks Jace," he said.

I kissed him back. I heard a camera snap another shot just as I did. I moved away before they got carried away. Judd thanked them and of course they wanted photos of themselves, too. Since they were too short to pose as we had, they jumped up and sat arm in arm on the wall.

I thought it rather strange that Judd gave them our address. They spoke little English and we spoke no Japanese. A couple of weeks later I received an envelope from Japan. It contained photos the other fellow had also taken of us.

As we strolled back to the car I noticed that we really turned heads as we walked past people. I suppose they thought we were brothers. Judd rested his hand on the back of my neck. I looked at him and smiled.

"I just have to touch you, Jace. It's hard to be near you and not touch you."

I grinned and brought my arm up and rested my hand on his shoulder. I enjoyed his touch, and loved touching him.

The sun was beginning to set. It was one of those rare days that there were high clouds in the sky as well as the low coastal ones that seem to always be present around this part of the coast. It was a perfect sunset. We sat in the grass on the edge of the hill, our bodies touching until it started fading. We climbed back into the car and coasted down the hill.

"I'm going to take you to one of my favorite restaurants for dinner. It's a casual place so we can go as we are." I drove back through West Hollywood, down Robertson and turned left onto Third. We parked, got out and walked a block to the Barefoot. It was Thursday so the crowd was light; we were seated immediately.

I looked around the room. I saw a couple of people I had worked with in the past and waved to them. And then I saw Netta on the far side of the room with a large group. Netta is a true JAP (Jewish American Princess) and she is the first to admit it. Born in wealth, she denies herself nothing. She is a social gadfly. We connected at UCLA and became best of friends. I was a big handsome man that she didn't have to worry about fighting off sexually, and she was a beautiful woman who loved to be seen on my arm when I needed a date. I excused myself to Judd and started toward her. She saw me at about the same moment and stood up smiling.

"Jace, it's so wonderful to see you." Her voice projected like a stage actress'. I think she tries to emulate Tallulah Bankhead. We hugged and smooched each other. We had the attention of everyone in the room. She glanced over toward our table.

"Who is that beautiful young man with you?" Everyone turned and looked at Judd. He realized that he was suddenly the center of attention and blushed. His pale blonde hair made his reddening skin more noticeable.

"Come meet him," I said, escorting her back over to the table. Judd stood up as we approached.

"Netta this is my nephew, Judd Deason. Judd, Antoinette Schwartz. She's a dear friend. We went to school together."

"I wouldn't believe you for a minute, Jace, if he didn't look just like you. You both have eyes that Paul Newman would be envious of. Welcome to L.A., Judd."

Judd grinned. She took his head in both hands, pulled him down to her and kissed him on each cheek. He turned a darker shade of red.

"It's nice to meet you, Ma'am," he said.

"Call me Ma'am again and you won't think so....I'm Netta." She smiled at him, and turned back to me. "Jace, we must get together soon. I've seen so little of you lately. I must get back to my people. Call me. It is nice to meet you, Judd."

She went back to her table. It seemed that most of the eyes in the room stayed on us. We sat back down and buried our faces in the menus. After we ordered our dinner, Judd was obviously preoccupied about something. I watched him for a couple of minutes. "Okay, I think you know you can ask me anything. If it's not too personal, I'll answer as candidly as possible," I told him.

He studied me a moment and then looked down. "You say that you don't make a lot of money writing. Are you telling me that I shouldn't become a writer?" he asked.

"Judd either you are a writer, a wannabe, or you're not a writer at all. If you're a writer, you're going to write no matter what. If you're a wannabe, you probably never will be a writer. If you are a writer, then you need to learn the basics and hopefully you'll be able to at least make a living at it. No, I would never tell you not to be, if you are. But if you're a wannabe, I'd suggest you rethink it. You have to know yourself which you are."

He thought a minute and then grinned. "I'm a writer Uncle Jace. I've always been. That large heavy suitcase that I didn't unpack is full of notebooks. Hundreds of stories and vignettes. I've always written down every idea."

I grinned back at him. "Sounds to me like you're definitely a writer."

"So, if your not really that successful, how do you live so well?" he asked.

I thought the question over and decided that it was a fair question. There were obviously things his dad hadn't revealed to him yet. "I'm a Deason. I'm over twenty-five."

"Yeah?"

"I assume that your dad hasn't told you about the Deason fortune. Well, you're out on your own now, so I suppose it wouldn't hurt to tell you." I paused to gather my thoughts.

"Tell me what? I've never heard about any fortune."

"My grandfather, your great grandfather, amassed a huge fortune early in his life. He married a young Yankee socialite when he was in his mid-forties. She gave him a son soon after they were married, and then refused to let him near her again. He learned to despise his wife after a few years of marriage, made a large settlement with her and sent her back to her family. His son always resented being deprived of his mother even though she didn't want him. He and my grandfather never did like each other. Granddad lived to make money, and Dad, quite the playboy, spent money like it ran from a fountain.

"When Granddad set up his will, he did it in a way that Dad could never touch any large sum of money. It was stipulated that he had to marry, have children, and live and work on the ranch to be eligible for his annual stipend, which was quite large. Granddad's will gave each of his four grandsons ownership of the ranch, held jointly, to be passed on to their sons.

"Your granddad has always hated having to live on the ranch. But your dad has always loved it. The ranch itself doesn't bring in a lot of money, but the oil wells, of course, do. The granddaughters each get a large trust when they marry. They won't know about it until after they are married and have a child.

"Also the four of us were given a large amount of wealth with strict stipulations on how it was to be invested, and that we could only live off of the interest of those investments. So I get around $350,000.00 annually. What I don't use, I reinvest at the end of each year. That part that I reinvest, I can get use of any time I need it. My brothers are set the same. As a Deason you will come into such an inheritance at the age of twenty-five, too."

"Cool. But I'll still have to get a part time job to get through the next three years of school. Dad said he would pay all my school expenses, but my pocket money I'll have to work for. I sold my pickup before I left, and I want to buy another one before school starts."

We had a delicious meal and managed not to make a spectacle of ourselves, seeing that everyone was curious about the two towheaded Texans in their midst. We ignored the cruising... straight and gay. After an espresso, we headed back home. "Where should I spread my bedroll?" Judd asked when we entered the loft.

"Well, I thought maybe you could set up a cubby here in this corner." I indicated the corner by the wall that separates the bath area from the rest of the loft.

"I bought an army cot for you to sleep on until we get something else. And I placed a screen to give you some privacy."

"Damn Jace, the way I roll, I'd fall off a cot. And I have four younger brothers; I don't know what privacy is."

"Then spread your bedroll wherever you wish...no problem."

He spread it under the big plate glass window between the two sofas. He stripped down to his skivvies and lay down on top of it. I stood frozen, watching him. I managed to break my trance, went to the bar and poured myself a stiff drink of scotch. I downed it quickly, trying to ignore the near naked young man lying in my living room.

I knew he was watching as I disrobed. I turned my back to him, removed my boxers and crawled under the sheet. Both cats jumped up on the bed. Liz claimed the foot and Gretch claimed the pillow next to my head. I turned to the light control box on my bedside table and turned all the lights off except for a small lamp on a table against the bathroom wall.

I tried to compose my mind for sleep, but the image of Judd lying on top of his bedroll kept popping into my mind. Of course the scotch did its thing to me too. It kept me awake. Towards dawn I think I finally fell into a fitful slumber.

The sun rose without me to greet it. And when I finally opened an eye, I was lying naked on the bed. A madman was beating the hell out of a tympani drum inside my head. I hadn't stopped to consider the fact that I am alcohol intolerant. I get drunk super easily and have the worst damned hang over the next day, and sometimes the day after that. I reached down to find the sheet and pull it up. It wasn't there.

I sat up, groggy with the lack of restful sleep. The mad drummer doubled the beat in my head. I saw the sheet in a knot on the far side of the bed. There was a foot sticking out of it. My eyes traveled from the foot, over the bunched sheet that covered most of the leg up to two beautiful pink buns, they looked almost fluffy with the coat of pale blond hair covering them. They were attached to a strong muscular back on top of which was a pale blonde head of hair. I blinked several times, but the image persisted. I got off the bed as smoothly as possible and walked around it.

There was an arm and foot dangling off the edge of the bed. I squatted and looked at the face. I thought it kind of looked like me, except it was too young to be me and besides that, I was squatting on the floor looking at it, so it couldn't be me. I was being really astute considering my stupid state of hangover.

I stood up and forced my brain to think. Yesterday...oh yeah..... I went to the airport and picked up Judd. This is Judd lying naked in my bed. So what was he doing in my bed? Did I do something with him that I couldn't remember? Oh God, tell me I didn't. I crawled into a pair of shorts and stumbled into the kitchen, ridden with guilt over the possibility that I may have had sex with my nephew and didn't even remember it.

With several false starts, I finally managed to get the coffee making. I opened the fridge, took out the bottle of Coke, took a long swig of it and carried it over to the counter. I propped my chin in my palms with my elbows on the edge of the counter and stared at the naked body lying on my bed. I could feel the sugar begin to course through my veins. As my mind started waking up, so did George. He raised right up and was demanding attention. Yeah, that sweet young ass over on the bed was what he was wanting. I looked down at George. "Please tell me we didn't take that sweet cherry and don't even remember it." He just ignored me and pushed against the zipper, wanting me to release him. No way.

"G'morning."

I looked up. Judd had rolled onto his back and had pulled the sheet up to his waist. Damn, even in this painful haze he is beautiful.

"The floor got awfully hard, and the sofas are too soft. Your bed is just right. I hope you don't mind," he said, stretching like a cat.

"As long as you didn't eat all my porridge, too." I retorted. 'Damn, I must be coming around to be able to be that witty this early in the morning,' I thought, but Judd didn't respond. "What happened to your skivvies?" I asked.

His hand slid under the sheet and came back out with them in a wad. He blushed.

"I kind of messed them. I couldn't get to sleep. It helps relax me."

"Messing your undies helps you sleep?"

"No, getting my rocks off. It works for you, too, doesn't it?"

"Sometimes." I was feeling relieved, I apparently hadn't been involved with him getting his jollies. "Want some coffee?"

"I'd love some. Black, please."

He leaped off the bed and detoured to the toilet. George and I listened to the waterfall. It was kind of musical. He came back out....still naked. He walked up behind me and gave me a hug.

"Put some clothes on, Fluffy, before you get raped." I growled.

"You can't rape me, Jace, I'm too willing," he murmured as he kissed me on the back of my neck. "What's with the fluffy bit?"

"It would be rape on my part. At least put some shorts on. Cover those fluffy buns before George goes on a rampage."

"Who's George?" he asked over his shoulder, seductively rubbing his hands over his hairy glutes as he went to get some shorts.

"You may meet him eventually, but not this morning."

He came back wearing a tee shirt, too.

"That's better," I said as I handed him a big mug. I turned back and started mixing the usual Ovaltine and dry milk into my coffee.

He watched. "Ugh. You drink that?"

"You may taste it before you make any more disparaging remarks. Meanwhile, you are blocking my path to the nearest chair," I growled at him.

"Are you always this grouchy in the morning?" He stepped out of my way.

"What's with the twenty questions? No, I am not always this grouchy. I have a damned stupid hangover. All right?" I collapsed into the chair.

"Damn, you only had one drink. Or did you drink more after I zonked?"

"It only takes one. And I'm too stupid to remember that."

"You need some sugar in your system." He said, and picked up the bottle of Coke, took the cup of coffee out of my hand and replaced it with the Coke. "Drink up." He then went to the fridge and started rummaging through its contents. "A high protein breakfast is what you need next. It'll help keep your blood sugar level up. Have you been checked out for diabetes?" He started chopping onion.

"Yes. And, no, I don't have diabetes. I am hypoglycemic and alcohol intolerant, and I'm stupid enough to forget what it does to me."

He sauteed the chopped onion with some ground round. I watched him shake several bottles over the meat...probably adding some garlic powder and herbs. "I think you're trying to punish yourself for having randy thoughts about your nephew," he chuckled.

He had hit on the truth. "So now you're not only my mother fixing me breakfast, you're my psychiatrist, too?" I asked.

He was whisking eggs now. He looked at me and grinned. "You figured it out, huh? I'm going to take care of you, Jace." He poured the eggs into the skillet and started stirring.

"What makes you think I need someone to take care of me?" I thought I should be feeling resentful, even though the idea was appealing. I noticed my headache was receding. The madman was now only doing an occasional roll on snare drums.

"You need me, Jace. You need me bad."

Damn, I wished he would shut up and stop grinning at me. I watched him salt and pepper the mixture and then add a couple of shots of Tabasco. I heard the toast pop up. I had no idea when he had put it in. He slathered butter on it.

"Come on, old grouch, breakfast is ready."

He had even set the table without me noticing. I sat down and looked at my plate. "What is this glop?" Actually it looked very tasty. He had placed tomato and avocado slices on the side.

"Didn't you say something about disparaging remarks awhile ago? Taste it."

I did...it was delicious. I cleaned my plate and would have eaten more if there had been more.

"Nasty wasn't it?"

"Yeah, really awful," I agreed. I wanted to wipe that grin off his face...using my lips to do it.

He handed me my mug of sludge. I took a big mouthful and set it down. I usually drink it cold. He sat there staring at me, an amused smile on his face.

"What?" I frowned at him.

"You like my fluffy buns, huh?"

"George likes them. I think they are too fuzzy."

"Well, you tell George to keep his hands off of them, they belong to you."

I stared at him over my mug as I drained the last of the sludge out of it. He just stared back with a Mona Lisa like smile, then asked, "Finished with your coffee?" as he stood and lifted me out of my chair by my armpits. He aimed me towards the bathroom. "Okay, now to the shower with you."

"Hey, this is something I do by myself. I'm not going to have your luscious body rubbing around on me in the shower."

He was ignoring me, as he unbuttoned my shorts and pushed them down my legs.

"Did you hear me, Judd?" I snapped at him.

His hands fell away, his head dropped down in defeat. "I heard you," he said in a small voice. He sat back on the floor where he had been kneeling in front of me.

I stood there looking at him for a moment, then sighed.. "Stand up." He stood, his chin still on his chest. "You do make this difficult," I told him. I took his face in both hands and made him look at me. I kissed him on the lips, hard. He reached out to hug me. I held him back with my elbows. "Not yet....but when the time is right, I will make it worth your wait, Judd... I promise."

He stared at me. His perpetual smile slowly coming back to light up his handsome face.