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In the pre-dawn darkness Buzz rolled toward his wife, stretching out his hand to caress the muscular chest that appeared in his dream. His hand touched his wife's soft breast, disturbing his dreamscape.

His half dreaming/half awake mind struggled to put hard, flat muscles to what he touched. He slid his hand down her soft belly, dreaming of a taut hard physique. As his fingers touched her pubic hair the dream relaxed, conjuring what he next expected to touch, but when his hand reached to grasp, there was nothing there. Suddenly wide awake with his hand cupped between his wife's legs, he was horrified at what he'd had been seeking.

Awaking slightly, Claire arched into his hand. He pulled away from her and rolled onto his back, his mind frozen in horror at the fantasy playing out in his early morning reverie. She rolled against him, and dragged her hand across his chest, her nails raking through the thick curly hair. Disturbed by the sensation, he moved away from her warmth and got out of bed.

"Buzz?" Her voice was muffled in her pillow.

"Shh. Go back to sleep," he whispered.

She mumbled incoherently, then her breathing evened out as she slipped back into sleep. He stood in the dim light numbly looking down at her - the mother of his children, the woman he'd promised to love and cherish until death. As he gazed at her, angelic in her sleep, the billow of blonde hair covering her beautiful face half buried in the pillow, he longed to be madly in love with her again. He still loved her, even cherished her, and wondered why he was no longer 'in love' with her.

Slipping into his robe, he walked over to the French window, quietly opened it and stepped out into the cool early morning air. The night was paling over the hills to the east. He walked across the patio and stood at the edge of the pool staring at the star speckled sky reflected on the water's smooth surface.

The mysterious dream man still lurked on the edges of his mind. He closed his eyes trying to visualize the face attached to the hard masculine body. He could almost feel the hard muscles on the hairy chest, see glossy black short hair parted in the middle and the way it curled around each side of a wide forehead, accenting intense liquid blue eyes that pierced the depths of his soul, and lips - sensuous lips that spread into in a natural enticing smile. Where had he seen those lips before - those manly tender lips? They'd had been gliding over his nipples a few minutes ago. He still could feel them against his...

His eyes shot open. He hadn't had a dream like this in years, not since he had made the agreement with Claire. He'd successfully rid himself of those fantasies for all these seventeen years. Why were they starting again?

"Stop this madness," he uttered aloud. "My God, what is wrong with you?"

He dropped his robe and dove into chilling water.

Tim awoke to the sound of someone diving into the pool outside his bedroom. He slid out of bed went to the French window where he watched his dad swimming. At fifteen years old he'd already started growing hair on his chest and legs, he wondered if he'd eventually be as hairy as his dad.

Buzz swam the length of the pool twenty times, then leisurely paddled to the shallow end where he stood and swiped the water from his hirsute arms and chest before wading up the steps. He didn't notice his youngest son standing at his bedroom window watching as he strode back to the other end, grabbed up his robe and entered the master bath through an opaque glass door.

Stepping into the shower, he adjusted the water and relaxed under the near scalding cascade with his eyes closed. The nebulous face of his dream man floated before him. He struggled again to make out his features, but they remained out of focus. Frustrated, he finished his morning rituals and dressed.

Looking into the full length mirror, his haunted eyes stared back at him. He squinched them and turned away from the mirror, adjusting his tie by feel. Lifting his suit jacket off the hanger, he turned off the dressing room light, entered the dark bedroom and quietly walked over to the bed to look at the beautiful sleeping woman - his devoted wife. 'Stupid damned dream! How could a man desire anything more?'

He remembered a time that he couldn't get enough of her - times when he'd stand at the edge of the bed looking at her and he'd strip off his clothes, slip back into bed, and make love to her - ravish her beautiful sensuous body. As he studied her, it baffled him that he no longer lusted for her. He felt nothing except an appreciation of her beauty. There had been no change in her, she was still as beautiful as ever, but there simply was nothing about her that sparked his desire. He spent a moment wondering why things had changed, then put it out of his mind, leaned down and kissed her cheek.

Claire stretched and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her. "You're not going to work already? The sun's not even up."

"I've got lots to catch up on before the workday begins." He kissed her again and pulled away. "I'll call you later."

"Mmm." She murmured, then snuggled back into the warm covers and went back to sleep. He studied her a moment more. The cloud of blonde hair wreathing her peaceful face accented her beauty. The years had not marred her looks. She snored lightly as he turned away.

He closed the bedroom door, and leaned against the lanai wall feeling empty, at a loss to understand what had change in him, or why. With a sigh he pushed off the wall. Stopping at his youngest son's door, he quietly opened it and looked in. In the semi darkness he could see the boy's curly blonde head resting on the pillow, his face sweet and innocent. His heart swelled with pride and love, as he walked over to the boy's bed. Bending down to kiss his cheek, he whispered, "I love you, Timmy,"

Tim opened his eyes. "Dad?" His voice was croaky, a little loud in the still early morning.

"Headed to the office. Go back to sleep." Buzz ran his fingers thru the fine, curly blonde hair, brushing it from the boy's forehead.

"Love ya, Dad. You're beautiful."

"I love you, Son," he said aloud. He closed the door wondering why Tim would say that, and walked on through the dark house.

In the room next to Tim's, his dark-haired older brother Billy lay staring at the dark ceiling with tears in his eyes. His dad had never the words to him he had just uttered to his younger brother.

It wasn't even six months later that Claire had died. Buzz sat in his office moodily contemplating her photograph perched in the middle of his desk. His mind slipped back to a particular memory.

Two days before her death, George Bentley had called him. Buzz and George had been buddies through high school. Buzz had gone on to college after they had graduated and George had become a deputy. He was now the county sheriff.

"Buzz, I thought you'd like to know Jorge Lobos's in town."

"Damn," Buzz replied, "Why he is here?"

"He's directing a film being shot here on location.

When Buzz didn't comment, the sheriff asked, "Isn't he married to some young actress?"

"I haven't the least idea. I don't keep up with him or any of Hollywood's shenanigans."

"I think she's one of those big boobed blondes. Tammy something or other."

"Whatever." Buzz's voice dripped with disinterest. They visited for a minute or so more before Buzz said, "Geo, I've got to run. I have an appointment in a few minutes Thanks for telling me about Lobos."

He sat back and thought about his early college days when Jorge had been his lover. He'd been George Wolfe back then. He'd taken the Spanish translation Jorge Lobos when he started his career directing movies. Buzz grimaced at the memory, stood up and stretched, putting Jorge out of his thoughts.

It was early afternoon when he left the office. When he arrived home, Maria told him Claire had just left to go horseback riding. He changed his clothes, saddled his horse and headed toward the beach, cantering to catch up with her. When he crested a hill he could see her nearly a mile ahead of him. She rode through the coast highway and the railroad underpasses that cut though the ranch just meters apart and on toward the beach.

He followed her to the top of a cliff that overlooked the ocean. It was beautiful place, isolated and quiet. He wasn't surprised she had found it. The pounding surf at the base of the cliff and the soughing wind through the trees were the only sounds. Meandering through the oaks, he followed her - the thick mat of leaves muffled his horse's hooves.

When he reached the summit, He found her with her chin on her knees, sitting in his favorite old spot where he'd spent many hours of his young life daydreaming. He sat astride his horse and watched her for several minutes.

He thought about feeling guilty for no longer being in love with her, but couldn't find a reason to be. He argued that as long as he still loved her and stayed true to her there should be no reason for feeling guilty. But the guilt was there anyway lingering in the back of his mind.

He made a noise so she wouldn't be startled as he dismounted and approached her. He kneeled next to her. She looked up at him and gave him a wan smiled. "I saw you following me. You're supposed to be at your office. What are you doing here?"

"I needed a break. You've found my favorite hideaway."

"This is the most beautiful, peaceful place on the whole ranch. I come here often, she said looking around, then she looked up at him and asked, "Why didn't you ever bring me here?"

He wondered why she hadn't asked, "Why haven't you ever brought me here?" The finality in her phrasing indicated that she knew, He studied her face searching for the answer." I haven't been here or even thought about it in fifteen, maybe seventeen years."

She turned away from the lie she could see in his eyes, and gazed at the horizon. "Hmm. So why are you here now?"

"I followed you."

She half-smiled at his obtuse answer.

Buzz stared down at the hypnotic waves crashing against the cliff base. "Jorge Lobos is in town."

Claire nodded, having already suspected this was why he was here. "I know… he called the house." She studied the side of his face. "Maria told him not to call back."

"When was that?"

"Three days ago."

"You didn't tell me."

"I knew it would upset you."

"And Maria? She's loyal to you over me now? She used to tell me everything that goes on in my house."

"Don't be silly. She figured she had taken care of him and that you didn't need to be concerned."

He mentally shrugged. "Do you think he'll try again to see you?"

"Probably, he was my dearest friend."

"Do you want to see him, Claire?" His voice sounded resigned.

"Does it matter? I gave you my word that I wouldn't see him again. We made a deal. Remember?"

"Yes, and I've kept my end of the deal. Billy has my name. I've raised him as my own son."

"And I've keep mine. And I gave you your son and a daughter. I've not seen Jorge for nearly seventeen years."

He stared out at the gray expanse of the Pacific Ocean. "I do love you. I always will."

"I know, Buzz." She studied the side of his sad face, reached up and caressed his cheek with the back of her hand, silently thanking him for trying to take the sharp ache from her. She turned back to the gray ocean. "But you're not in love with me anymore." She noted the surprised look on his face and half smiled. "I see it in your eyes when you look at me."

Buzz sat back on his heels. He regarded her for several moments. He wanted her to lash out at him - let her anger cleanse him of his guilt. "I'm sorry, Claire," he finally uttered, staring at the ground between his boot tips. She glanced at him, noted his despondency, then stared back into grey day.

He picked up a stick and drew circles in the dirt, gathering courage before glancing up at her. "I think you have a right to know ..."

She looked back at him sharply as he paused.

"I've started having dreams again."

She knew immediately what kind of dreams he meant. "So why then would you care if I were to see Jorge?"

"You're my wife."

"And he was only my friend. Even that one time, it was as my friend. I did it. He just went along with what I wanted."

"He's Billy's father."

"Yes… that he is."

"That is reason enough."

She couldn't keep the panicky feeling suppressed and wondered if her laugh sounded like it was verging on hysteria. "I don't even know if I could be friends with him anymore. I'm sure we've both changed. We probably wouldn't even know each other."

"But you want to find out."

She succeeded in calming herself and looked him in his eyes. "I'm curious… that's all." She studied the hazy horizon trying to discern the islands. "I knew I would eventually lose you. I knew those dreams would return to haunt you. I've felt fortunate to have had you this long." She sighed and turned to look at him again. "So you have someone else now? Another man?"

"No. I wouldn't do that to you."

She was suddenly angry. "You did once. So why not now?" It would have been easier for her to accept the loss if she could be angry because of another person… but now he was telling there was no one. That made her even angrier. She stood and slapped at the leaves that clung to the seat of her riding pants. "You're no longer in love with me. I've lost your love and there is no one else to blame for stealing you away. So…" She straightened and stared at him. "Why the hell not, Buzz?" She felt out of control. Her self-confidence had abandoned her and that angered her even further. She sobbed and bit her fist to keep from sobbing again. She wanted to fling herself into his arms and beg for him to desire her, yet she could only stand there and stare at his bowed head.

"I love you, Claire. You are my wife and the mother of my children." He wanted to reach out, touch, and console her, but he remained immobile, unable to make his hand move.

She turned away from him. "But I am no longer your lover."

Like the final toll of a bell, the pronouncement hung in the air while they both stared into the grey California coastal overcast sky, lost in their individual thoughts. Claire eventually turned away and walked a few yards into the trees where she looked back at her husband. He looked as defeated and forlorn as she felt. She had an urge to go to him and tell him everything would be okay. Instead she said, "Go back to your office, Buzz. That's where you belong." Her voice flat, emotionless. She leaned against a tall rough barked oak, willing herself not to cry.

The surf below pounded the cliff's base in tempo with his heavy heart… slow and sluggish. Buzz eventually stood and turned away from the monotonous grey expanse, shoved his hands into his pockets and said, "Claire, I won't object if you do see Jorge."

She turned and stared up at him, expressionless.

He walked past her, mounted his horse and went back down the hill - defeated.

As he let his horse find its way back to the ranch house, he recalled the last time Claire had seen Jorge.

The whole mess had been caused by him letting his guard down -- letting his secret fantasies become a reality. Jeremy Oakley had quickly become a close friend and buddy when they met on the football field his first year at UCLA. Jere had been Buzz's Best Man when he married Claire the summer between their junior and senior years.

Their last football season was over and their college football careers were finished. Buzz and Jere decided to celebrate. Thoroughly inebriated, Buzz ended up inviting his buddy back to their apartment since Claire had gone to Pasadena to spend the weekend with her parents. It had been hot for several days. The apartment wasn't air conditioned, and the two men had ended up stripping down to their boxers. Buzz couldn't remember who had made the first pass, but it had been well received and they had ended up in bed.

As Buzz rode along remembering what it had been like humping against Jere's hard abdomen, he got uncomfortably hard. After several climaxes each, they'd collapsed into sleep,. They never knew Claire had come back and had seen them soundly sleeping wrapped in each other's arms.

Buzz recalled waking about dawn, slipping out of bed to relieve his bladder, then standing beside the bed admiring the still sleeping hard masculine man. He'd sat beside him and had run his hands over Jere's body until he woke.

They'd ended up servicing each other at the same time. The telephone's ringing hadn't fazed them as they approached a simultaneous climax, but when answering machine picked up, they both panicked hearing Claire's voice, edged with hysteria, say, "Buzz, I had an argument with Mother and came home early. I saw you in bed with … him. We need to talk. I'm over at Jorge's now." Claire had run to her closest friend and confidant, Jorge Lobos.

From the beginning, Jorge was an enigma to Buzz. Jorge's flashing black eyes fascinated him, his flirting turned him on. Eventually, Buzz gave in and decided to try man to man sex with him. He loved it. There was something carefree to it that he hadn't experiences with girls. Maybe it was that there were no obligatory dinners, flowers or wooing to get laid. But he didn't think deeply or long about it, he simply enjoyed it.

When Jorge introduced him to Claire, Buzz dropped Jorge and started courting her. He developed an antipathy towards Jorge that Claire didn't understand, but Buzz wasn't about to tell her why; he just let her assume that he didn't like homosexuals.

Buzz jumped on an offer to play football for the UCLA Bruins and convinced Claire to transfer with him, starting their sophomore year. Since Jorge wanted to major in film directing and Claire was no longer at UCSP, he, too, transferred to UCLA since they had the best film school in the country. Buzz married Claire the summer of their junior year.

Buzz had begged Claire's forgiveness, which she eventually gave and life for the two of them had slowly returned to being good again with Claire pregnant. Then came the day of Billy's birth. The moment that Buzz saw the black haired, dark skinned baby he was consumed with guilt for driving her into Jorge's bed, then he was filled with outrage that she'd let him beg her forgiveness.

Buzz waited until Claire was back on her feet before he accosted her. Buzz's mother Flo and Maria had gone into town. He found Claire in the nursery reading while Billy slept in her lap.

"We need to talk," he announced, startling her. She'd been dreading this moment for weeks. She laid the sleeping baby in his crib and followed Buzz into the living room. He sat down and motioned for her to do the same.

"This is the first time we've been totally alone. So, I guess that what I want …" he paused, considering how to continue. "I need to confirm that your discovery of me in bed with another man led you in to Jorge's bed."

Claire stared at him, giving him no response.

Buzz assumed her silence to be an affirmation. "Was this before or after I begged you to forgive me and promised never to be untrue to you again?" Buzz asked.

"Before."

"So you fucked Jorge in retaliation, and then let me do all the begging for forgiveness."

She was now staring at the floor.

"It looks like it backfired on you, Claire."

She looked up at him. "It did, didn't it? Do you want a divorce?"

"Claire, I love you." His voice cracked with emotion. "I just can't believe that you let me do all the begging while you never said a word."

Claire's stoicism disappeared as she broke down and cried. "I'm so sorry, Buzz. I violated your trust. Not to get back at you. No, I felt I wasn't woman enough to hold you. I had to prove to myself that I was desirable. I seduced my best friend knowing that he is gay. I forced him. I felt so guilty afterwards that I couldn't tell you."

Buzz wanted to take his petite, beautiful wife in his arms and console her - tell her everything was okay. But that wasn't true. There seemed to be very little in their lives at the moment that was okay.

"Alright, Claire, here is the deal. I have already promised you that I'll never take another man to bed, and I've given the child my name. I will raise him as my own…" He paused until she looked up at him. "if you promise never to see his father again."

"So Jorge is made to pay for my sin?"

Buzz looked at her without answering.

She sighed in resignation "Alright, I promise, although I don't understand why."

"I have no use for a person like Jorge. He is a user. He only went to bed with you to get at me, because he knows I see through him. He used you even more than he was used by you."

"I'm sorry you see him in that light."

"No matter what light … he is a user."

"Alright, Buzz, I promise. I will keep my promise."

Claire never knew who the man was she'd caught in bed with Buzz. He'd had his face buried against Buzz's chest and Buzz adamantly refused to tell. Jeremy eventually became the president of the L.A. bank that Buzz used for all his business. Buzz had dinner with him occasionally when he was in L.A., and they'd laugh about the time that Claire had caught them sleeping in each other's arms, but they never ended up in bed together again.