The Augustine Murders - Season 3, Episode 5

III.5

                   “And then, till love came round again,

                    lie and be gentled like a child

                    and feed on intimacy...”

 William Stanley MERWIN

The dancing Bears – “Fable”

March 27th, 1990 – Tuesday

  Scott woke up later than usual, staying in bed for a few hours after Phil had to go back to work at the hospital. He could spread himself under the covers and enjoy the full size of the mattress, tossing and turning to move where it was still warm, soft and musky... Then the smells coming from the kitchen slowly reached him, as they filled the air, so he got up with a broad smile on his face. Of course, Phil had cooked another tasty, rich and remarkably large breakfast for him.

  As he walked out of the bedroom naked and yawning, rubbing his belly, Scott considered how the kitchen table and worktops almost disappeared under all the plates and salad bowls, baskets of muffins and chocolate cupcakes, boxes full of doughnuts, pies and pastries, big jugs of milk or freshly squeezed orange juice, tall towers of pancakes topped with butter and maple syrup looking over mounds of scrambled eggs, sausages and bacon... There was more food in that small space than the Paddington Hotel put on display for their breakfast buffet.

  And it was meant for him to enjoy – everything, only for him... No one would get in the way to dispute one bite of food. Scott wouldn't have to snarl or cast a dark look at anyone. No one was there to comment on it either. There was no rush, no need for him to hurry up and fight over the last cup of strawberries and whipped cream. He could enjoy every scoop. That was reassuring. Against all odds, staying with Phil proved to be so much better for him than staying at the hotel.

  Sitting down next to the table, Scott immediately started devouring everything – and he only paused when he had to move away from the table to reach all the food still waiting for him on one kitchen worktop, then the other. When he was finally done, gulping down his orange juice to the last drop, he let out a contented sigh that quickly turned into one proud belch.

– “...UUUUURRRRP... Ooof! I feel so much better, now.”

  Scott patted his full stomach, feeling the weight and size of his belly as it rested in his lap like a ball of dough, then he lazily scratched around his bellybutton. He felt full, and more than full. Scott felt fat. He was fat. Weighing in around 240lbs didn't mean anything to him, although it took him back to the heaviest he had ever weighed, back in the dark old days when he had to give up on Football. He was over it. The way he felt right now had nothing to do with such sad memories. He leaned back against the table and he enjoyed himself so much, as he grabbed thick handfuls of his own flesh. The apartment was so quiet, it was a moment of pure bliss. Nothing else could possibly matter to him, at the moment.

  His belly felt round and warm, so generously well-fed. Scott tried to rub his sides so softly as Phil had done pretty much all night, but he couldn't mimic such perfect lusty moves – so subtle, so devilishly arousing with almost surgical precision, but always so passionately instinctive... For one thing, he couldn't find himself at both ends of that cuddly game, and he lacked that gentle touch. It was an impossible challenge. Thinking of his blonde teddy bear and his big paws, Scott found himself both turned on to the point of moaning and frustrated because he was alone in the kitchen... He had to get dressed and meet him at the hospital.

  They had work to do.

■ ■ ■

  When he saw himself in the wall mirror, Scott lingered for a moment in the hall. He had his hair recently cut, bleached and spiky just the way he liked, back home. He would have to find a decent hairdresser in Biberton now, and show him how it should look... Then he considered the curve of his belly, jutting out of his opened leather jacket and encased so tight his his designer shirt, giving it a few appreciative pats.

– “I'm really getting fat...” He whispered, proudly.

  Scott saw the three nurses standing together by the desk and talking about hospital gossip, while taking their coffee break. Clearly, they were having some sort of argument over Phil's appointment as security officer at Saint Augustine Bells to replace Rick.

  Since that was pretty much a done deal, nurse Vickers and nurse Rockwell were taking their frustration on the rest of their medical team. Doctor Lipton was doing a full check-up on his younger colleague in his office, at the moment.

  They welcomed Scott half-heartedly. He provided little distraction, but he didn't feel out of place in their conversation – and they had chocolate cupcakes with their tea.

  Nurse Vickers was still leading the debate.

– “A young physician shouldn't let himself go. At the very least, this new job will be an opportunity for all of us to remind Phil that he needs to get back in shape, and get it straight.”

– “Well...” Scott smirked. “Good luck with that.”

  All heads turned to him, in the lobby... Scott wasn't much concerned with his friend's weight or physical condition. According to him, Phil was in great shape. He only chuckled at the impossible challenge it would be to try and “turn him straight”. 

  Nurse Vickers considered that he had already caught on.

– “Have you also noticed it?”

– “You mean...” 

  Scott didn't quite know what to say. He chose to keep it vague.

– “About Phil?”

– “Exactly.”

– “Oh... Huh, yeah.”

– “Phil's not that big...” Nurse Brinell saved him right on time.

– “He is beefy and he is thick!” Nurse Vickers insisted on it. “He's always been a bit too sturdy, in my opinion. A bit too stocky... Now that he's put on weight, he is downright hefty!”

  She could go on like this forever. Scott was fascinated as he listened to her describing his own, secret teddy bear so vividly.

– “It wasn't so bad when he started working with us...” Nurse Brinell kept defending the young doctor.

– “That's true...” Nurse Rockwell agreed. “Of course, he was still very much a soldier back then. Fresh out of the Army, honorably discharged... You could expect him to be strong, but lean and sinewy.”

– “So he was.”

– “How quickly you two forget.” Nurse Vickers broke in on them. “He was a mess. You could see right through him. At least I could...”

– “What was wrong with him, then?” Scott asked.

– “I don't know exactly, but he behaved like a stray dog who's just been adopted by a family. You have to make sure that he is safe to handle and work with, then you have to train him for basic manners and habits.”

  Scott found her approach a bit harsh – but interesting.

– “So you've been his family...”

– “You can say that again. We are his only family.”

  At least the nurses could agree on that.

– “What's wrong with him now?”

– “According to doctor Lipton, he is no longer the physician, the surgeon or the assistant he used to be.”

– “Because... he's too fat?” Scott suggested, cutting her to the chase.

– “Exactly. Because he is too fat.”

  She was dead serious about this. Scott could shrug it off, but it worked better for him if he played along.

– “Now that he will have to work as a security officer in that special Prep School for the underserved and overly privileged...” Nurse Vickers didn't show too much emotional empathy for the six chubby, overfed students placed under their care. “Doctor Lipton has to put him on a strict diet!”

– “Very strict.”

– “Very...

  They all nodded over their mugs of tea.

– “You can have the last cupcake, young man.”

  Scott didn't know how he was supposed to accept it – as he did.

  Was it okay for him to eat such a tasty but rich cupcake, or was it the easiest for them to prevent Phil from having one? Did they consider him “lean”, so he could afford to eat some more? Was he already too fat to be put on a slimming diet again? Or did Nurse Vickers just not care about his weight, and he could eat all the chocolate pastries he could get his hands on?

  For some reason, that cupcake didn't taste so good.

  Phil's cupcakes always felt thick and moist like fluffy clouds of chocolate topped with sweet frosting as if they were touched by a gentle breeze. Scott often wished for him to bake pastries the size of large pillows so he could rest his cheeks against them as he stuffed his face... Truly meant as “comfort food”, it felt like the pastries cared for Scott and wished for him to be happy, well-fed and warm, as they swiftly filled his stomach to become part of his growing body...

  That dumb blonde bear really had a knack.

■ ■ ■

  Everyone got back to work. Scott didn't have to wait for long by the door. Phil was coming out of doctor Lipton's office. He looked a bit pale, and bewildered. Scott noticed how his hand rested on his flat stomach, then brushed his work shirt down. He must have been scolded for some time about his weight and size, his appetite, his attitude towards food in general – maybe even his cooking skills...

  When he saw Scott, Phil only nodded and beckoned him to follow him down the hall. They knew what they had to do, right away.

– “How's Rick?” Scott asked.

– “I've moved him to your bedroom.”

  Scott agreed. Sleeping in a room at the end of that part of the building, next to the parking lot, it would be easier to let Rick get out and escape. They only needed wheels. Phil had found a way to borrow a truck that wouldn't look conspicuous.

– “When do we smuggle him out, then?”

– “Tonight.”

– “Already?”

– “Tomorrow may be too late, if we want to save Rick. He's really...” Phil hesitated only for a second. “He was very much stuffed when he woke up, this morning.”

– “Again?”

– “More than ever... Worse than ever before.”

– “Are you afraid that he may burst?”

– “No...” Phil frowned. “People don't burst, Scott. A man's stomach never really bursts, but it can get so badly bruised that you pass out from the pain... I'm a lot more worried about Rick's liver. For some reason, it feels like he's been drinking a gallon of beer during the night...”

– “It doesn't make sense!”

– “I can only make a diagnosis, based on what I observe. I have no idea how food or beer keeps finding its way to him during his sleep. His door was locked. There is no other way to enter his room.”

– “And he's on the second floor.”

– “He was on the fifth floor, before. It didn't make a difference.”

– “That's true...”

– “At this rate, I'm afraid that he may fall into liver failure.”

  Scott nodded.

– “How about the boys?”

– “They're stuffed too, but only because they keep stuffing themselves.”

– “And how about you?”

  Phil stopped as he was about to open the door to his office.

– “What about me?”

– “The nurses kept talking about you, and...”

– “Yes, that...” Phil blushed.

– “Are you really going on a diet?”

– “It's not like they give me much of a choice.”

– “How bad is it?”

– “Honestly, pretty bad...”

– “How much weight do you have to drop? Ten pounds? Fifteen?”

– “More like... thirty pounds.”

  Scott gave a whistle of surprise.

– “They really want you lean, lean, lean...”

– “Yes.” Phil looked down.

– “Lean and mean.”

– “Doctor Lipton wants me to stay around 200lbs, possibly go below that line too... He has already planned weekly weigh-ins and check-ups.”

  Phil let out a sigh.

– “I'm not sure if I can do it.”

– “Come on.” Scott teased him to comfort him. “You've helped me lose weight like a pro. I turned out okay.”

– “Rightly so...” Phil smiled and leaned forward to kiss him.

– “Remember our agreement. For every pound you drop, I will gain two.”

– “Sounds good to me...”

– “Then you will have plenty of cooking and baking to do.”

– “Of course.”

  That was enough to bring Phil back to his senses – and he was by far the most sensual man Scott had ever met. His train of thought was like a train wreck but he had the infallible instincts and reflexes of a wild beast, which made him quicker to act and respond than any man with a brain.

– “So we do this tonight.”

– “You and I will do a lot more than this.”

– “How so?”

– “We're going away for a few days. Doctor Lipton has just allowed me to take a few days off, before I take over where Rick left off... He made me promise that I would exercise and start a new work-out program, get plenty of fresh air...”

– “And stay away from food!”

– “That too...” Phil teased Scott back with his lips and tongue. “We also need an alibi, you and me. We help Rick escape tonight, when everyone thinks that we're already out of town. Away from all this.”

– “Far away...”

– “I've already packed what we need to sleep and spend time there. You can ask your new boss, sheriff Maxwell. Check if he's okay with this.”

– “As long as I assure him that I'll be well-fed, we have no problem...”

– “Then we're all set. Come back in an hour. We will leave at once.”

■ ■ ■

  There were only a few cars in the parking lot. Maybe Scott expected a farmer's truck on the parking lot? He didn't notice the truck until Phil came out of the driver's seat. Scott almost chortled. It was Biberton's ice cream truck, painted in garish shades of red, white and blue – the kind of truck their community service parked next to a lemonade stand at the county fair. 

– “Is this your idea of a discrete vehicle?”

– “Of course. It's a truck we use every week on different locations, all around town. People are so used to seeing it, they no longer notice. These colors are so gaudy that the whole truck is invisible.”

– “Okay, so your batmobile comes with an ice-cream machine, a hot dog maker and all the supplies for pop corn and cotton candy...”

– “Why not?” Phil shrugged, with a boyish smile.

  Scott smiled in return. It was Phil, after all – always so gung ho, but keeping in mind that his friend may be hungry for something sweet or savory. Following him was an adventure of its own kind...

– “There's also quite a large and enclosed space, in the back. Rick won't be seen by anyone, as we drive through and out of town.”

– “Right... And he needs that kind of space.” Scott considered the back of the truck with its trailer, solid doors and tailgate.

  They were already on their way. Phil made sure to follow the usual route, just as he kept driving at an easy speed. No one waved or even turned their heads as they passed by. Once they were on the interstate, he headed straight to the Fat Trout trailer park... It was a little over one hundred miles away, up in the mountains.

  Scott had not ventured out of town yet. The landscapes around Biberton were impressive for a city boy like him. After miles and miles of corn fields and other croplands, with a farm sometimes peaking out in the distance, against an immensely wide and low horizon, the road went up and through a dense forest, pointing to their destination surrounded with snow-capped mountains.

  The owner of the Fat Trout trailer park welcomed Phil with open arms. He had to know him well enough for them to be allowed short time camping on one of their best spots, by the lake – and on such short notice. Phil followed the instructions and parked the truck. There were only two other trucks to be seen, a few yards away.

  Scott agreed that they needed to meet those people and mingle, so there would be more witnesses from the beginning of their stay. Their best option was to go swimming or at least hanging by the lake, so they changed and came out of the truck wearing swimsuits. Phil kept the keys attached to his wristband, as he carried a beach ball and towels, with plenty of food in an icebox.

  They couldn't find anyone in the open field, and Scott didn't feel like going all the way to knock on their door. 

– “Maybe they've gone hiking...”

– “Let's sit down. We can still be there when they come back.”

  Phil agreed. He was already laying the towel on the grass.

– “Would you check the water for me?”

– “Okay.”

  Scott enjoyed watching his friend go, dipping both feet in the stream on his way down to the lake. The water had to be quite cold, but he went for a dive as soon as he found it was deep enough... He made quite a splash. Phil had to swim swiftly and actively, breathing deeply and toning his muscles so he wouldn't freeze.

  When he came back to Scott, dripping wet, he was chilled to the bone.

  They were alone, and Phil looked so pale after such a swim that he was almost like the marble statue of an ancient god – except for the fact that his dirty, sandy blonde hair was all messed up, his chest hair was too abundant and he was too beefy, according to the artistic canons of body proportions. Scott knew only too well that the boy was too generously thick and meaty...

– “Cold, right?”

– “So cold... But so good. Would you join me?”

– “No way. I don't think you should go back right now, or you'll go stiff.”

– “What would you want to do?”

  A gentle and temperate breeze was caressing their bodies. Scott could lick his lips as he lay his eyes on his friend's body. He kept thinking that Phil shouldn't be allowed to wear any kind of clothes.

– “We have all the time in the World to play ball...”

  Phil understood what his friend meant – and wanted.

– “You must be hungry for something more than ice-cream sandwiches.”

– “You bet...”

– “Let's go back to the truck. It doesn't look like anyone will come to us any time soon... I'll get you something warm to eat.”

– “Hot dog!” Scott gushed.

– “Okay, let's get the ball rolling.”

  They spent the better part of the afternoon in their trailer. The constant creaking from the suspension and the loose, rocking motion of the back of their truck were the only signs to indicate their presence for a long while, if anyone happened to drive or walk by their spot – leaving little room to the imagination.

– “Admit it, this is not what you had in mind...” Scott laughed, munching on his sixth hot dog.

– “Not quite.” Phil smiled sheepishly. “We have only met the owner, and we will go back to the hospital tonight. I was counting on this camping spot to be far enough, but anyone who would question our whereabouts can figure out that we could go back and forth, at this point.”

– “Definitely...”

  Scott couldn't argue with the fact that these campgrounds were both a cold spot to chill out in the open air and the hottest of hot spots on Earth at the moment – not to forget the massive cloud of cotton candy he was going through.

  Phil ran his fingers through his hair, catching his breath.

– “Okay. We need a plan B.”

■ ■ ■

  They hit the road again.

– “Where are we going?”

– “We need to spend the evening in some place where we can be seen, without attracting too much attention.”

– “Road house diner?”

– “That would do, but there are no diners on our way to Biberton...” Phil was considering their options. “Unless...”

– “Unless?”

– “I know where we can go.”

  Phil stepped on the gas.

– “Okay, what kind of a place is it?”

– “I'm taking you to the B4C.”

– “What's the B4C?”

– “The B4 Club, or the Before Club. It's a bowling alley.”

– “Why is it called a Club?”

– “It's also a clubhouse.”

– “Okay...”

– “It belongs to a friend of mine, Bjorn.”

– “So it's Bjorn's Club?”

– “His full name is actually Bjørn Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson.”

– “No shit...”

– “No kidding. No one knows if the fourth B stands for bowling, or beer... Bjorn claims that both are equally appropriate.”

– “He should have named it The Hive, seriously, because... Man! that's a lot of bees.”

■ ■ ■

  The B4 Club didn't look like much of a clubhouse. There were only half a dozen bowling lanes, four pool tables and darts games with a large bar counter in the back, going wall to wall. The place was crowded, after working hours. They would have to wait and watch other people play.

  Phil introduced Scott to the owner of the club. Bjørn was a 6'8 tall man in his mid-forties, with broad shoulders and a thick, bushy mahogany beard – the classic Paul Bunyan type of giant, dressed in a lumberjack's plaid shirt with two buttons opened to show off his densely hairy chest.

  Scott was amazed by the man's size and looks – and handshake... He was also taken aback with the way Bjørn welcomed Phil, hugging him so tight and tousling his hair even more, as if he was going to wrestle him like a bear. For a moment, they almost looked like frat boys...

  Bjørn responded with a broad smile when he saw how confused Scott was. Even Phil didn't look so embarrassed, being handled so roughly.

– “This man has saved my life, you know.”

– “You did?”

  Phil only nodded, still teased by Bjørn like a big brother.

– “He sure did... Good cabbage for a cad.”

– “Cabbage?”

– “CABG. That's a coronary artery bypass graft.” Bjørn explained with a roaring laughter. “I was suffering from coronary artery disease, or CAD. I had to go for a surgical operation, two years ago... And this blonde bear showed up right on time. I was your first serious patient, right?”

– “Yup.”

  Again, Phil only nodded and laughed along with him... It was hard to imagine that such an impressive, strong beast of a man could suffer from a heart condition that would require surgery. Right now, it felt a lot more likely that the third button in his shirt would pop out like a bullet.

– “You boys must be thirsty. First round's on me.”

  Scott followed them to the counter... For some reason, Bjørn looked positively thrilled that Phil and he had come over to his club. Turning to them with a large beer mug in each hand, he kept saying that he “didn't expect Phil to show up”. It sounded a bit puzzling.

– “Did you expect him to be here tonight, in the first place?”

– “Not really... That's why I'm so pleased that you're here with us, and with a friend too. You know Gunnar will be thrilled!”

– “Who's Gunnar?” Scott asked, in an aside.

– “Bjørn's nephew.” Phil explained. “Where is Gunnar?”

– “Downstairs, of course.” Bjørn took an inquisitive look at Phil. “Wait a second... Did you not receive word about tonight?”

– “What about tonight?”

– “Don't tell me you forgot.”

– “Honestly? I don't know what you're talking about. Did you send me one of your cards at the hospital? I think nurse Vickers has tightened her screening process lately.”

– “Oh...” Bjørn looked genuinely sorry. That didn't last long. “Who cares? You're here now. Tell me you're staying for the night.”

– “Of course!” Scott stepped in immediately.

– “Good.” Bjørn smiled broadly and poked Phil's chest. “Then you are in.”

  Scott turned to ask Phil.  

– “What's so special about tonight? Some kind of bowling tournament?”

  Bjørn chuckled, then he leaned over and lowered his voice.

– “Phil knows what I'm talking about... The bowling club closes around 11PM, then we move the party downstairs.”

– “Okay... What's downstairs?”

– “The club part of this bowling club. And tonight's a special invitations only. Like the card you should have received.”

– “You mean... An underground gay night club?”

  Phil was blushing, confused that he may have received his invitation... He had no problem being invited to a gay bar like this. Scott saw the two men in a different light, suddenly.

– “Don't get any funny ideas.” Phil threw him a sideways glance that felt hotter than a branding iron. “Bjorn isn't gay. He's not even bi. He's “gay-friendly”, if you really want to put a label on it... His club hosts all kinds of parties, for all kinds of people. I guess tonight is open mic night, too?”

– “Of course! But that's not even the best part.”

– “What is?”

  Bjørn could have hugged him again, smiling as he was.

– “Tonight's Bear dance night.”

– “...Bear dance night?” Scott repeated, puzzled.

– “That's right! Bear dance. Night of the dancing bears... Phil! You have to take part in it. Gunnar will never forgive you, or me, if you don't!”

  Phil felt the weight of the two men's gaze. He nodded, with a sigh.

– “You know I'm terrible at this. It will be embarrassing for everyone.”

– “Have you done this before?” Scott's curiosity was peaked.

– “Three or four times. I always come out last...”

  Bjørn certainly didn't disagree.

– “Come on! I want to see you dance.” Scott insisted.

– “Okay, then...”

– “Good! I'm glad to see you getting on board with this...” Bjørn was beaming, as he presented them with a large ledger. “You can both add your names to the list and sign.”

  Scott and Phil shared a look of understanding. This would constitute a good proof that they were out of town for the entire night. They couldn't hope for a better piece of evidence, if anyone should ask them later.

– “That will be 100$ for the two of you.” Bjørn concluded.

– “Oh...”

  Phil shared a very different kind of look with Scott. He clearly didn't have that much money on him, tonight. 

– “How much is in your wallet?”

– “About twenty dollars. I rarely have more on a regular day...”

– “Why didn't you bring any more cash?”

– “I could hardly bring money I don't have.”

  Scott had even less cash on him. He was used to having Phil pay for what he ate or drank, but this cost a lot more than the usual few brews they could kick back at a local bar... Bjørn saw how deeply uneasy Phil felt, and he spared them the embarrassment.

– “You boys are really rugged and adventurous after my own heart.” He said, putting the ledger back in his counter's drawer. “But you...”

  He grabbed Phil by the neck and pulled him into another tight hug.

– “You are a bear after my own heart, true blue...” He whispered into his ear. “I want to see you dance like a bear tonight, with the others, and be a good sport... We both know you'll get squashed and trampled, but who cares? If you do this for us, you boys can go downstairs for free and I won't tell anyone.”

■ ■ ■

  Late bowlers and nine-darters were slowly leaving. Sitting by the bar, Scott could finally enjoy a moment of conversation with Phil – except he was helping Bjørn with the preparations for tonight's party and the “bear dance” they had planned.

  Even that incessant going back and forth was interrupted when a young man literally pounced on him and hugged him like a teddy bear.

  Scott immediately learned that this was Bjørn's nephew, Gunnar. There was no doubt that this member of the Bjørnson family was gay, at least.

  Gunnar stood a little under six feet tall but he had something of his uncle's good looks, and he was flamboyant in every possible way – from his walk to his talk, and from his extravagant manners to his lush red hair and thick beard that looked like shiny scraps of copper all meshed together in a bundle... His freckles made him look even younger than he was – and he could hardly be much over twenty-one years old.

  Scott couldn't deny that the boy was a gorgeous redhead, and he was also welcomed with a big, enthusiastic bear hug... Deep down, he only wished that this bear cub didn't hold on to Phil so closely as he did.

– “This man has saved my life!” He poked and patted the doctor's chest.

– “What, you too? You couldn't possibly need heart surgery...”

– “Heart surgery?” Gunnar burst out laughing. “No! Nothing like that... Phil didn't have to cut my heart open. He wouldn't even break my heart.”

  He finally let the two of them together. Obviously, Bjørn didn't want his nephew to cause a scene... The boy had work to do, and he should know better than to chit-chat with their customers like this.

  As for Scott, he was holding back as best he could, so he wouldn't tell him to get his hands off his teddy bear...

  The club scene had to be ready, downstairs. Bjørn poured a coffee for Phil, as he sat back with Scott.

– “So... What's their story?”

– “What story?”

– “How did you get to save Gunnar's life? And why did you have to save him, for starters?”

  Phil took a deep breath.

– “A few months ago, Gunnar came out to his parents. It was a difficult and brave thing for him to do. That's when Bjorn took him in to live with him, as they do now.”

– “I see... Did Gunnar's parents kick him out of home?”

– “They did, but only because he managed to get away before it was too late. His father and his brothers were ready to kill him. If they had not already thrown him out on their driveway... They may have not stopped beating him and bashing his head against the ground until...”

  Scott didn't say a word. Phil had tears in his eyes.

– “Fortunately, Gunnar's mother was already horrified at that scene. She called her brother over the phone, and Bjorn came in the nick of time to defend the boy... He was in a truly terrible state, unconscious with so many bruises and a concussion to his head. He stayed in a coma for three days. When he woke up, it was a relief that he had suffered no brain damage... Then he had to rest and sleep for a few more days, and he couldn't be left alone. We had a number of long talks with Bjorn. Not the kind of talk a doctor usually has with a patient's relatives... Gunnar needed help. Bjorn couldn't provide it alone. It required a lot more than good parenting. I couldn't help him either, not openly at least...”

  Phil had already wiped his tears, but his voice almost broke then. Scott understood that he was feeling guilty, somehow.

– “You can't let too many people know that you're gay.”

  The blonde doctor nodded, looking bereft and helpless.

  Scott covered his friend's hands with his own, warming him up a bit.

– “It's okay... You were right. You can't win every fight. You couldn't win this battle alone. You were there for him when he needed you, at least.”

– “When Gunnar was out of harm's way, Bjørn invited him to stay and work with him. Then they started running this place together. After some time, Gunnar felt ready to get on with his life and not be haunted by all this. I don't know who suggested it, but that's how they started devoting one night every other month for the local gays and lesbians in his club. It caught on quickly... People come from all over the county for these underground events. Some even cross state lines to join such parties. It's kept very much under the radar... That's why you only get personal invitations, with the possibility of slowly spreading the word with a friend you may bring along.”

– “Friends like me?”

– “Friends like you.” 

  Phil smiled, and his smile was all the more irresistible for the way his green eyes sparkled through recent tears. He leaned forward and kissed Scott. The bar was deserted, after the last customers had just left.

– “What time is it?” Scott asked.

– “Party time...” Phil whispered, hardly breaking their kiss as he moved closer to hold Scott in his arms delicately, before the two of them got up and followed Bjørn downstairs.

■ ■ ■

  The basements of the B4 Club were not meant to host large parties, when Bjørn had started opening it to a selected number of guests. He must have carved out large caves in all directions, with smaller niches on the sides... As a result, the disposition of the dance floor, the scene for eventual musicians and the sitting arrangement in comfortable leather booths around each table was highly original.

  There was a complete set of drums and percussion instruments on the stage, against the wall. A young man in a worn jeans jacket was already sitting there, tuning his guitar.

  Since they were among the first to attend Bear dance night, Bjørn invited Scott to sit down in one of the booths in the middle, overlooking the fact that they were only two and that Phil would have to participate as one of the “dancing bears”.

  After a few minutes, the musicians began to play to set the mood and get themselves ready for a long night. They were only three on stage, the guitar and two drummers, next to an empty stool for open mic. All lights were set in sconces that pointed at the dance floor.

  Soon, the lights got dimmed and turned to such a shade of red that it was almost dark. Scott could still see the groups of men and women who came down. There were people of pretty much all ages and styles, big bikers in leather jackets or lumberjacks like Bjørn, lesbian coming single or in couples dressed in bright uniforms like lion tamers at the circus...

  Scott enjoyed that parade even more, when he noticed how many of them wore leather gear like horse riding boots, harnesses, jockstraps, collars and leashes. He only wished that he had brought his own, but Phil wasn't even sitting next to him right now.

  Gunnar joined him in his booth, almost jumping to the cushions. He was wearing very cool leather pants – and nothing else. In context, this party outfit looked quite acceptable, almost coy but not shy... Scott had to admit that the young man was a natural charmer. He made everyone he met feel like they were the most awesome person in the world, and he pulled it off without ever openly flirting. He had to be everyone's little heartthrob, around here... Scott had already forgotten how close he was to Phil. No one could possibly hold a grudge against him. In any case, any man foolish enough to hurt him would have to face punishment from a certain giant lumberjack bear who could probably wield lightning just so easily as an ax!

– “Is this booth comfortable enough for you? We have more pillows you can throw around you...”

– “I couldn't complain. It's quite a club you are running here.”

– “Yes, my uncle Bjorn is the best. And I didn't want to run anymore. Now... If you want to get really comfortable, and not stand out in the middle of the crowd, you should really take off your shirt.”

  Gunnar was right, even as he watched Scott strip down.

– “So... Scott, is it?”

– “Yeah.”

– “You and Phil... Are you an item? Like, boyfriends or...”

– “What? No!” Scott blushed deeply, caught by surprise. “No, no, no... Nuh huh. Not boyfriends. Nothing like that... No way.”

– “I'll take that as a “No”. But you came down here together...”

– “Yeah.”

– “So... Forgive me for asking, but I know Phil. What's your deal?”

– “We're more like... partners in crime. That's about it.”

– “Partners, huh...”

  The boy tilted his head and took a closer look at Scott, quizzically.

– “I can imagine what kind of criminal activities you two are involved in.”

– “The best kind, you bet. I mean... You boy don't want to know...” Scott sipped more beer, so he wouldn't have to talk too much.

– “I feel like I didn't even had to ask... But no “B word” between you.”

– “In my book...” Scott huffed. “The “B word” is Bullshit.”

– “I get it.” Gunnar didn't sound too convinced. “You're not the type to settle down. No argument from this corner. You're probably right. And, in your book, Phil is not exactly “boyfriend material”... Am I right?”

– “Something like that.”

– “You know he's...”

  Just as Gunnar was getting closer, there was a big announcement that the bear dance was about to start, if anyone wanted to join the group. Much to Scott's surprise, not even the bigger men in the room rose to that challenge... Bjørn opened a door and eight men entered, all wearing tight shorts of stretchy black denim.

  Phil was among them, as expected, but Scott was still shocked to see him like this. As they scattered, barefoot, to join their friends and get some encouragement before the dance, their hairy bodies couldn't be more exposed for everyone to behold. Phil was the shortest and clearly the least imposing member of that team... All the other men had to be a bit taller than Scott – and weigh at least 300lbs.

  As Phil leaned down to gently cup his face and kiss him lightly on the lips, Scott felt that there was something different about his friend.

– “Wait a second... Did they put make-up on you?”

– “It's only a little eyeliner.” Gunnar commented, obviously smitten.

– “I'm ridiculous, I know...”

  As he stood up straight and looked at the two young men sitting in that booth, there was hardly anything to laugh about in his looks or attitude. 

  In that dark red light, they could only guess that he was blushing with shame, very much intimidated as the bass drum started to beat heavily. His heart was racing and pounding in his chest.

  Phil let out a sigh and whispered, like a soldier's prayer.

          “They have tied me to a stake. I cannot fly,

           But bear-like I must fight the course...”

  Scott didn't understand.

– “What's that?”

  Phil was already joining the group, as they were about to form a scrum.

– “What did he say to us?”

– “You don't know? It's from the Sottish play...”

– “What Scottish play?”

  Gunnar chuckled. He couldn't help himself.

– “I rest my case. Your name is Scott, you are Phil's... partner in crime, as you said, and you don't know the Scottish play? The best crime drama of all time...”

– “And you know it?”

– “Don't get me wrong. I only read it because Phil gave me his own copy of the book, when I was bored out of my mind at the hospital. You're not supposed to say it out loud... They say it brings bad luck.” Gunnar came close to whisper into Scott's ear, always so sensually. “It's an old play, called Macbeth... Phil could play it by heart for you.”

– “You think I should ask him sometimes?”

– “Then you'll be in for quite a show!”

  The bass drum held a steady, slow beat as it was quickly joined by all the other drums... Bjørn and other guys placed around the dance floor also played a part in that very primitive concert.

  Scott turned to Gunnar one last time.

– “What were you about to tell me, before?”

– “I don't remember.”

– “Something about Phil and me.”

– “Oh, that? Well...”

  Gunnar got up and rested a hand on Scott's shoulder.

– “You should know... Phil's the best.”

  As the Bear dance was beginning to gain momentum and speed, with the eight men stomping the floor with their feet, clapping their hands together and slapping their thighs or their chests with little coordination, Gunnar turned to watch.

– “Okay, so he's really not good at this... But he's the best.”

  According to Scott, none of them were any good... Phil was doing his best, with two or three others, although the result was mediocre at best. That impression faded a bit as the beat got faster and faster. Soon, they were all dancing and turning around in a circle limited to the dance floor, with the drummers urging them to keep going.

  It was extremely instinctive, primal and tribal. Far from shuffling across the floor, at this point, they had to keep on swinging and turning on their feet, moving their bulk – faster and faster, faster and faster...

  They were all covered with a sheen of sweat. Bjørn shouted something, and the topless waitresses next to the drummers started throwing full pitchers of ice-cold water on the dancers.

  Once again, Phil was dripping wet today...

  It was impossible to tell if any of them noticed water being thrown to their faces. They kept dancing, if one could call it dancing, only following the fast beat of the drums.

  Phil wasn't doing so bad. That kind of exercise was enough to break a man down, so he must have already switched to autopilot in order to keep going... This meant that there was no one left but the soldier inside him – hard-working, hard-hearted and well trained for this. If anything, he was the most disciplined on the dance floor.

  Unfortunately for him, the bears who danced around him were much taller, much bigger and much heavier... This caused him to be slapped a number of times, and bounce against one fat bear after another.

  That awkward group dance didn't last too much longer... Scott didn't understand why all the men and women around started shouting too. It felt like they were attending some strange sort of wrestling game.

  Scott wasn't wrong. Bjørn initiated a new, quick-paced rhythm that felt more like an ominous military march, then six bears formed a circle around the other two. The crowd kept shouting “Fight! Fight! Fight!” and waitresses gave something to each dancer... It looked like a short and shiny blade.

  Before he could open his mouth and cry out for fear, Scott understood what it was the dancers were holding in their hand, already atrociously red and glowing under the spotlights. 

  It was lipstick.

  The drums got louder and louder, as each bear dancer had to engage in a one-on-one fight with the others. Scott couldn't tell if there were rules to this game... Even so, the men trapped in that circle were already too exhausted to follow any other rule than their survival instincts.

  While this meant that Phil was probably the only one in the bunch still aware of his surroundings and what he was doing, this was one of the battles he couldn't win... Dancers were meant to move quickly and mark their opponent somewhere with lipstick, leaving long traces of red or deep pink on the other guy's shoulders, his chest or his face. Each fight had to keep going until one of them fell to the floor, then they had to get up to their feet and keep it up – faster and faster...

  Clearly, Phil was the underdog in that tournament. It was only too easy for the others to fall on him when he tried to grab them by the waist of their shorts or push them to the edge of the circle. They would tumble down together, but Phil got squashed all over the floor, again and again. In the end, there was no contest. He had lost all the fights, and the dance kept going faster and faster – so much that all the men collapsed in one big heap and he was buried under that sweaty mass...

  There was a long round of applause from the whole room. The dancers, dazed and dizzy, were pretty much lifted off the floor. Scott was afraid that Phil would be booed off the scene but people only commented on how clumsy the poor guy was, or they nudged him and teased him a bit as he walked back to Scott. Bjørn and Gunnar had to help him stand up.

  Phil was covered with traces of lipstick, like gashes of all shades of red.

  Bjørn covered the poor guy with no less than two large towels to get him cleaned up and dry before he would catch a cold... Scott saw his blonde friend as he had never seen him before – bruised and marked, and badly beaten, rough and rugged, so exhausted and out of breath he couldn't say a word... Calling him a fallen soldier would be an insult.

  There was something about him, then – something Scott had always dreamed of, hoping against all hopes... There, standing before him, was the wildest and most masculine beast he could ever wish for.

  And it was his catch. And own. And do everything he wanted to do with him... Did Phil see right through him, as he looked so deeply into his eyes? He was such a mess, still struggling to get rid of the lipstick on his cheeks, and he was sweating so much that he looked positively fiery.

  It was Scott's turn to blush. Phil's look was so intense, he didn't expect him to smile – but there was nothing innocent about it... The blonde boy still had his own little tube of lipstick in his clenched fist. He opened it and carefully applied a dark shade of red on his lips. Then he sat down in Scott's lap, facing him and leaning over to give him a long kiss on the lips before he let his tongue come into play.

– “Now you are marked too...” He whispered into his ear, before standing back up and wiping it off with his towel.

  This beast was too arousing for words. Scott didn't know what to say, when Bjørn kept trying to get his nephew to look away... There was no need for Phil to apologize for the way he behaved. Not after he had been shaken so brutally on the dance floor.

  Bjørn patted his shoulder, like a bigger brother.

– “You've done all right.”

– “I'm done, all right...” Phil sat down heavily, next to Scott.

– “I'll come back to you scamps, in a moment.”

  The drummers were also tired, and they were taking a break. The air was thick and almost foggy with sweat and the smoke from cigars. A few older men were smoking in a distant corner. There was only the guitar player left on stage to keep everyone in the mood.

  Phil turned to Scott, caressing the back of his neck as both his arms were extended over the edge of their leather booth.

– “I couldn't look more ridiculous, right?”

– “I wouldn't say that...”

– “I bet I still have lipstick all over my face.”

– “It's only make-up.”

– “I know, it will wear off.” Phil took a deep breath. “It's the rest of me that won't wear off... And I don't want it to wear off.”

– “What do you mean?”

  Moving slowly, like a tiger, Phil came to hold Scott in a soft embrace.

– “Take a good look, Scott. This is who I am... This is what I am.”

– “Okay... This is you, I know.”

– “Listen to me. What you see now is what you should expect. I may not be much of a bear, but... I'm a bear. Deep down, this is how I feel.”

– “It's not buried so deep. You're not so deep that I couldn't tell...”

– “Do I still have eyeliner on my eyelids or is that gone too?”

– “It's still there, but I don't mind.”

– “Okay, then... I wish I didn't have to hide it. I wish I didn't have to get my hair cut. I've had more than my share of that buzz cut when I was in the Army... I wish I didn't have to shave my chest... And I wish I didn't have to shave my face.”

– “Who said you had to?”

– “Are you serious, Scott? Do you know why I have a goatee like this?”

– “Because... it looks good on you?”

– “Because it's the most facial hair I could get people to accept, where I work. It was one hard-won victory too, but... If it was up to me, I would grow a real man's beard...”

– “Like Bjorn's?”

– “I don't know... His beard is truly magnificent but I would rather grow my own full beard.”

– “I understand.”

– “Why do we have to keep pretending to be what we're not? It's okay for a young man like Gunnar to have doubts and look for a model, so he can grow up as he truly wants but you and I, Scott... We're all adults here. And we're only having harmless fun.”

– “I agree.”

  Scott understood how emotional Phil could get, right now. He was still catching his breath and he may feel a bit humiliated after that “bear dance”, even when no one came over to rub it in.

– “You know what?” Scott suggested. “I like it when I tousle your hair... And I can so easily picture you with a full, sexy beard.”

– “You do?” Phil smiled, a little less flustered.

– “You're one rugged, cuddly bear. And you know it.”

  Proving his point, Phil hugged him tight.

– “No buzz cut... No close shave...”

– “And no diet.”

– “Fuck! no...”

  Scott was startled. Phil never used the “F” word.

– “I'm sorry, but... Demanding that I lose thirty pounds to work as a security guard, that's not even a diet. It's the kind of forceful, heavy-duty training that makes prizefighters and wrestlers go crazy.”

  He couldn't stand to think about it but that thought kept coming back to haunt him, obviously... That was enough to explain why he was still breathing so nervously, as if he was pacing around their booth – like a caged tiger.

  Bjørn startled him as he was coming back to see how they were doing.

– “Aren't you boys hungry?”

  Phil also turned to ask Scott.

– “Are you hungry?”

– “Not so much. I mean... It's getting late, and...”

  Right on cue, Scott's stomach growled so loudly Bjørn chuckled.

– “Since when do you let your friends go hungry like this?”

  Scott looked at Phil. Bjørn's comment had just hit a bull's eye. All the dread he could feel about going on a diet was suddenly gone. It was nothing compared to this... The very idea that Scott could be hungry and there was no food within his reach was unacceptable for a guy like Phil. He had to do something.

– “We can't afford a meal at your club, tonight... It was already too kind of you to let us come to your party.”

– “Come on... You've really earned that ticket, and more.”

– “If you say so...” Phil muttered, shaking his head. 

– “How about this? You do something else for us tonight and your friend here can eat for free. Fair deal, no need to thank me. I'm not calling any favors here.”

– “I can't possibly go for another dance.”

– “No... I wouldn't ask the others to go back for another round either. How about this?”

  Bjørn wrapped his well-muscled arm around Phil's neck, and told him about his request so softly that no one could hear him over the music.

  No matter what he was offering and asking in return, his blonde friend didn't look comfortable about it.

– “I don't know if I can do this...”

– “Why? Because you've been squashed flat by the whole team? When you've got that far into the shame game, what do you have to lose?”

  Phil didn't know how to respond.

– “I have to think about it...”

– “No, no... I know you, Phil. You're not much of a thinker. Go for it.”

– “Okay, I'll do it.”

  Scott saw Bjørn raise his arms, fists closed, ready to shout “Hurrah”.

– “I'll do it, but...” Phil still hesitated. “No dice. We order food after it's done. If I make a fool of myself, all bets are off. And I get to choose how I go for it, first. Deal?”

– “Deal.”

  The two men shook hands. Bjørn was so pleased that he insisted on having another round of beers served to their table. Scott could go for another large mug of beer, and Phil had to be thirsty as well.

  Sitting back in their booth, the blonde bear looked like he was about to hit rock bottom... He kept his head buried in his hands. When he looked up to answer Scott, he was on the verge of tears.

– “What's wrong? What did he ask you to do?”

– “Not much, I have to be honest. At least, not much... for anyone else. I really need to pull myself together.”

  Phil drank his beer down to the last drop, almost in one long gulp. He needed it that bad, but it wasn't the best move for him at the moment.

– “Are you feeling okay?”

– “No...” Phil sounded tipsy. “And it's only going to get worse.” 

– “What do you have to do?”

– “Tonight's open mic night. Bjorn asked me to get on stage and sing.”

– “Sing for the crowd?”

– “I mean... sing? Bjorn knows I'm well over twenty percent deaf...”

– “Wait a second. You're deaf?”

– “I thought I had told you about... that.”

– “Oh, yes. The Army. That accident. I forgot...”

  There was a moment of uneasy silence between them.

– “He wants me to go for two songs in a row. Start with something slow and wistful, so his guests stay in the mood and keep kicking them back down, then I should move on to something more upbeat as an invitation for others to take their turn on stage.”

– “Two songs, then?”

– “Yeah...”

– “It's not like you don't know any song.” Scott remembered. “I've often caught you humming a number of little tunes and folk songs I had never even heard of before.”

– “Well, yeah...” Phil mumbled, feeling woozy.

– “You have to know a song or two, that will make these big boys happy. It will be just like karaoke.”

– “This is not karaoke, Scott. There's no prompter or anything...”

– “So what? As long as you know the tune, you'll be okay.”

– “I guess you're right...” Phil let out a desperate sigh. “It's better to sing along with someone playing the guitar or beating the drums. I really couldn't follow the machines that run a karaoke.”

– “Then it's settled.”

– “Okay...”

  He had to take another deep breath. Taking a look at the crowd around their booth, Scott saw Bjørn and his nephew talking to the musicians... They were about to clear the stage a bit and start open mic.

– “They don't expect you to be any good, anyway...”

  Phil kept his head buried in his hands for a while, once again. He didn't want to move away from the table, out of their booth. Then Scott saw him shake it off, as if he had been covered with a heavy, invisible cloak.

– “You know what? I'm going for it...” 

– “Yes?”

  As he got up, Phil couldn't stand straight but he looked determined.

– “Bjorn's right. You're right... What do I even have to lose?”

– “Exactly.”

– “No matter what happens between us tonight, and all the good people in this club, we have to go back to work in a few days. We have to wake up tomorrow, no doubt with a hangover... But tonight? Tonight is ours, just as we belong to the night.”

  That last sentence brought back such vivid and strange memories to Scott that he only looked up to his friend in astonishment.

– “Scott? Hello?”

– “What is it?”

– “Do I still have much make-up on me?”

– “Only red on your lips. And black around your eyes.”

– “Okay then.”

  For some reason, Phil smiled in a most naughty and alluring way.

– “Eternity was in our lips and eyes...”

– “What's that?”

– “Shakespeare.”

  Scott burst out laughing.

– “You don't know shit, but you know Shakespeare.”

– “You can't know everything. You can't ignore everything...”

  Bjørn was standing on stage, in front of the crowd. Phil had to join him as he was called. He shook hands with the musicians and they took a moment to talk about the songs they would play to accompany him. 

– “Okay... Good evening to you all?” Phil tried his best not to blink as all the spotlights in the room were now turned on him. “I'm Phil. Those who know me will tell you that I'm about twenty-five percent deaf... And those who don't know me already guessed that I'm seventy-five percent dumb. So, bear with me...”

  The guitar player struck a chord, tuning his instrument up a bit while Phil was sitting down on his high stool.

– “What key?”

  Phil didn't understand the question.

– “From the way you talk, you sound like a pretty solid low baritone...” The guy offered a perfect chord so he could get in tune. “I'd say B flat is good for you. Just don't be too flat on the notes... right, bucko? We have an audience to entertain.”

  The guitar started playing, softly, not too fast, allowing Phil to start singing just as if he was about to start a conversation with everyone who stood in the dark, around him.

          “We both lie silently still 

           in the dead of the night...”

  As he started singing with better and clearer pitch, he slowly closed his eyes and straightened up, then leaned a bit forward. Scott was puzzled, watching him from their booth. Holding still, Phil kept the mic close to his mouth... He was definitely not shouting, but his deep voice made everyone shut up and listen in a matter of seconds. With his free hand, he covered his left ear so he wouldn't get distracted, trying desperately to dampen his heartbeat or his heavy breathing. He focused on the bass notes emanating deep from within his chest, and he listened closely to the fine harmonics that soon filled the air like some sort of electricity.

          “Although we both lie close together, 

           we feel miles apart inside. 

           Was it something I said or something I did? 

           Did my words not come out right?”

  Phil's discrete but natural Southern accent was perfect for this song. He actually sounded like a down-and-dirty, forlorn cowboy who would wake up after a full night of steamy, passionate sex – Scott had to admit that anyone who would make that assumption really didn't fall far off...

          “Though I tried not to hurt you, 

           Though I tried, but I guess that’s why they say...”

  When Phil sang the chorus, Scott felt his hair rise like bristles on the back of his neck and his heart stood still... The atmosphere in the club could only be compared to a Summer's scorching hot evening with heavy weather – the quiet before the storm.

  There was no quiver in Phil's voice as he brought more emotions to the fore. The musicians had to listen to him and follow, but they seemed to play better and better as they came along. 

          “Every rose has its thorn, 

           just like every night has its dawn,

           just like every cowboy sings his sad, sad song. 

           Every rose has its thorn...”

  The song went on but when Phil's voice died away and the guitar struck the last note, Scott couldn't tell if the silence that followed made him cry out of the blue, or if tears weren't already rolling down his cheeks... His friend had gone for it one hundred percent. It felt like a free fall with no parachute... There was nothing but darkness around them, like infinite skies and no stars to point at. It was amazing to see him like this.

  Phil had to take a second to catch his breath. His heart was clearly pounding like a battering ram against his rib cage, and his hairy chest was glistening with beads of sweat under the harsh lights. There was no applause. Everyone was sitting or standing in stunned silence... Scott saw all the bears and the “tough guys” in the room gaping or quietly weeping just as he was, too moved to move.

  It didn't last more than a few seconds – but that moment captured enough joy and sadness to last a lifetime. The guitar moved on to the second song, followed by the rhythm section and Phil, warmed up and eager to make a good impression before leaving the stage, rose from his stool and began to sing. Eyes still closed, he was almost jumping up and down, following the faster pace of the drums.

          “I don't know what it is that makes me love you so. 

           I only know I never want to let you go...”

           

  Scott was stunned all over again. For one thing, he didn't expect Dusty Springfield right after a Poison power ballad... Such contrast almost felt like a slap in the face, but in a good way. It also felt like a breath of fresh air, in that densely sweaty and smoked up basement, boosting and bursting with positive energy. 

          “'cause you started something, oh! can't you see 

           that ever since we met you've had a hold on me?”

  When Phil finally opened his eyes, he flashed the crowd with the most radiant boyish smile ever, turned to face Scott still sitting in his booth and pointed his finger at him to finish the chorus:

          “It happens to be true. I only want to be with you...”

  It felt so natural and so provocative at the same time, Scott blushed deeper than ever. Phil didn't ask to stand on that stage. That kind of attention was not for him... Even now, he was nervous, fidgeting with his mic, but spontaneous like a puppy – or a genuinely wild beast – and the way he wore his heart on his sleeve was just too hard to resist... He had a right to play such a trick on the guys who had backed him in a corner or squashed him on the dance floor.

          “It doesn't matter where you go or what you do, 

           I want to spend each moment of the day with you...”

  More unexpected than anything, the drummers and a few waitresses starting singing “oh” and “ah” like backing vocalists... Phil immediately caught on and he hummed the melody before the second verse, keeping their little group together as they all felt raptured and drawn to Heaven.

          “Well, look what has happened with just one kiss. 

           I never knew that I could be in love like this. 

           It's crazy but it's true, I only want to be with you...”

  The song ended suddenly, but on such a high note that the response from the audience was immediate, unbidden and loud – with thunderous applause surging from every corner of the club and echoing everywhere. All the topless waitresses shouted “Woo!” several times, at the top of their lungs... Beer mugs and glasses were clanked on the tables, and all the fat guys made the floor vibrate as they kept stamping with their feet in a frenzy.

  Phil didn't bow to them so much that he almost collapsed on stage. He had to be exhausted after such a raw and kick-ass row... Thankfully, the musicians were there to hold him standing up, and help him stumble without falling back to ground level. It was an opportunity for them to take a well-deserved break.

– “Well done, sandy blonde Sandy.” They tapped his shoulders or slapped his back as a way to congratulate him.

  As he walked back to sit next to his friend, Phil was doused again with beer and water, even sparkling water, with every step he made... There were so many ice cubes thrown at him, he couldn't help shivering. Dazed and disoriented, he was also hugged or tackled by a number of guys who happened to stand in the way. A few vigorous pats on his back had to be enough to let him go, Scott thought, then he saw Gunnar pounce on him like a tiger cub.

– “Phil!” The young man cried out, and closed his arms around his chest in such a tight embrace that would make any other guy pass out. “You hard rock climbing bear... Moonlight of my Life!”

  Phil had to feel dizzy, at this point. There was really no need for Gunnar to keep rubbing his back and chest like that, pressing his face against his pecs so hard he was obviously dying to kiss him or bite his nipples.

  Naturally, Bjørn wasn't far behind to hold up his end of their bargain.

– “You've been hiding this from us all this time. Bad boy...”

  The two men made their peace with a bear hug.

– “Scott will have the Texan T-bone special.” Phil told his friend. “Medium well-done. Pepper and barbecue sauces. Cheese sticks, onion rings, and a saddlebag of fries the size of a true stallion's saddle... You only get to guess that there's a table where my friend's dinner is served. He wants it covered with mounds of red meat and fried food.”

  That was so alpha of him, so unexpected after all this – Scott could groan and moan. He was so horny for his blonde sing-and-dance bear...

  Bjørn did not back down on this.

– “How about desserts?”

  Scott noticed that he kept asking Phil. This was a game between them. He was there to swipe the stake – which, in this case, meant steak and cake. Phil looked grateful that he would take him at his word.

– “Chocolate ice-cream sundae. Butterscotch sauce. Fudge and brownies on top, with chopped hazelnuts. Whipped cream, in a can. Cherry pie on the side, and fresh strawberries “à la Bjorn”. Scott is feeling hungry and playful tonight...”

  Bjørn smiled as he took that order. A deal was a deal. That was a pretty fair deal, and he was a man of his word.

  A few minutes later, Scott found himself facing a real feast of red meat with large baskets of fries, onion rings and cheese sticks. Phil was there to cut his T-bone steak in fine slices and sometimes feed them straight to his mouth, when Scott wasn't already stuffing himself.

  Open mic night was over sooner than expected. Was his blonde friend such a tough act to follow, or were they not so interested in singing than in passing judgement on the people on stage? He couldn't tell, as he was only focusing on that delicious, thick, juicy and abundant steak he was devouring now...

  Topless waitresses kept coming and going, taking the empty baskets of fries away and sometimes bringing more back to their table. It was not lost on Scott that they were all coming on to Phil, who looked sleepy and a bit tipsy after his second beer.

  All the lights in the club turned to a dark shade of electric blue. It was late enough for some slow dances on the dance floor.

  Always so quick on his feet, Gunnar threw himself at Phil and asked to dance with him for a few songs. He knew his blonde friend wouldn't turn him down, no matter how tired he may be. Scott didn't mind. The young man was careful enough to take off his shoes and socks, so he wouldn't risk hurting his dancing partner. Phil was still barefoot, after all.

  As they were walking away together, arm in arm, Bjørn joined Scott to check how he was doing... There wasn't much left on the table, and he was only grazing on fries and cheese sticks with a few last cocktail olives and peanuts. A waitress was on her way with two large mugs of beer.

– “You have quite an appetite. I guess it's time for desserts?”

– “Sure. Bring them on.”

  Scott's ice-cream sundae cup was even bigger than expected... Bjørn was certainly not cheap with the portions of food and the liquor when he treated his “special guests”.

– “What are strawberries à la Bjorn?”

– “Ha ha! You've heard that... It's fresh strawberries, cut in half and dipped in vodka for a whole night in your freezer. You serve them in a bowl with long sticks, marshmallows and a small saucepan full of hot, melted black chocolate. The strawberries have to be almost frozen, and keep a lingering aftertaste of vodka.”

– “Nice... Do you drink vodka to wash them down too?”

– “Sometimes.” Bjørn chuckled.

  A good number of couples were dancing slowly in the electric blue dark. He turned his head to make sure that his nephew was still in good hands. Gunnar was holding on to Phil so closely against his chest that he could fall asleep right there, eyes closed, with a broad smile on his face.

– “Would you like a glass of vodka with your strawberries?”

– “I don't know...” Scott mumbled, his mouth still full of ice-cream. “This is already so generous of you.”

– “Forget about it. You look like a man who can hold his liquor.”

– “Yeah.”

  There was a moment of pause, but the dancers seemed to ignore when one song was over and a new one began. Bjørn smiled.

– “Not like our good, dumb blonde friend... Right? Phil can't have more than three brews, then he's drunk like a skunk.”

– “Oh... Yeah. I don't know.”

– “With his husky frame and his husky eyes, and his musky masculine scent... Underneath all that, Truth be told, he's actually a light weight.”

– “I guess...”

  Bjørn came closer to him and lowered his voice.

– “You know he's the Devil, right?”

  Scott had to stop guzzling his beer.

– “What?”

– “Look at him dance with the other bears. I mean, look at them... Then take a good look at him.”

– “What about them? What about him?”

– “Most of those guys, including some of the big, fat bears you've seen dancing earlier, they're actually family men. They're married. They have kids. They have jobs, and homes, and cars, and life insurance policies... They have money in the bank. They live a few blocks away from their parents. I could go on...”

– “So?”

– “Phil doesn't have any of those things.”

– “Well... I knew that.”

– “For my regular customers, this kind of night is a truly special event. It's some sort of adventure... They may be cheating on their wives, or these women may be cheating on their husbands. It's an opportunity for them to be what they want to be, look the way they want people to look at them and feel no shame about it.”

– “How's Phil any different from those guys?”

– “This is not an adventure for him. It's life outside he has to struggle with, everyday life. This club is not a place for him to escape or evade from the mundane... It's a place that could almost feel like Home for a bear like him.”

– “So you're saying that he's like a real bear, trapped in a man's body?”

– “It doesn't feel far off... I'm actually not quite sure about him. He is by far the most helpful, kind and dependable man I know but... Deep down, I keep hearing a growling wild beast, yearning to be set free.”

  Bjørn grabbed a strawberry. Scott looked really full from all that ice-cream, the brownies and the fudge... There was a whole cherry pie left for him to demolish.

– “So, you're saying...”

– “You can't trust him.”

– “Come on. He's just a friend... He's your friend.”

– “He really is... Don't get me wrong. I love my nephew, but he always behaves like this when he's around Phil. No flirting or anything, but he's like a six-year old on Christmas, with a mountain of shiny new toys and boxes to unwrap... He can't help himself.”

– “Are you saying that Phil has such an effect on him?”

– “Definitely.”

  Scott didn't know what to say. He had just met Gunnar, so he wouldn't know... Did Phil have such an influence on him, since he had come to Biberton? Maybe there was more to Phil than even he had laid eyes on. 

– “I said he was helpful. That doesn't cut it... I couldn't possibly imagine that someone would go arm-wrestling with Death and win that fight to save your life. Or dive into the deepest circles of Hell and bring you back to safety...”

– “Right.”

– “Phil has pulled it off for Gunnar, just as he was there for me.”

– “I get it, but... Wouldn't that make him more like an angel?”

  Bjørn almost spit his drink, laughing.

– “No, no, no... Phil is definitely no angel.”

– “Fallen angel, if you insist...” Scott shrugged.

– “Then you agree. Lucifer was a fallen angel. Or was it Satan? Or both? I'm not much into that biblical stuff. Just saying... You should be careful.”

– “What could Phil possibly do to me, really?”

  Scott was rubbing his round, smooth belly, wiping off melted ice-cream and some of the barbecue sauce he had spilled all over his chest with his juicy steak. Bjørn flashed him a very broad grin.

– “He could so easily turn you into a Behemoth, for starters.”

– “I guess...” Scott smiled contentedly. “This has nothing to do with him. I am a greedy boy... You said so yourself. It's not like I can hide it now. Phil is always there to keep me comfortable and well-fed, that's all.”

– “And I bet he's doing his best so you can enjoy yourself to the fullest.”

  There was a soft round of applause. The musicians were leaving.

  Bjørn didn't insist, but the smile on his face was enough for Scott to understand that this giant lumberjack didn't mind him eating and eating and eating like a prized hog...

– “For a city boy, you look like you've found yourself a new home.”

– “Biberton has been pretty good to me, so far.”

– “Then maybe you could do something for your blonde friend.”

– “What's that?”

– “Some people will tell you that he doesn't belong here, because he's a little too much “Southern Comfort” for their own delicate palate... That's bull. Phil shouldn't go away. He can't go away, he's needed here.”

– “In your basement?”

– “In our town. Biberton... Big. Bear. Town. It's right there in the name!”

– “I thought it stood for Beaver, not Bear.”

– “If you ask my wife, maybe it does... Seriously, take a look at the guys around us tonight and tell me that you believe they could possibly use too much teeth on hard wood.”

  Gunnar was there to help Phil as he was staggering back to Scott, in their booth. They both looked spent, worn out but relaxed – still arm in arm, after their pause on the dance floor. Phil placed both hands on top of his fat friend's belly, with a goofy smile.

  Bjørn and his nephew left them alone to enjoy each other's company.

– “No food left, Scott? You must feel... so... full...”

– “No kidding.. I'm stuffed! I couldn't possibly eat another strawberry.”

– “Did you enjoy those?”

– “Oh! Yeah...” Scott nodded. “But I was thinking... Of all the places we could go to, on our way back to Biberton, you had to take a stop at this club. The B4 Club... A gay bar right up your bowling alley? Seriously, did you bring me down here to show me what a sexy bear you can be, or...”

  Just as if he wanted to prove him right, Phil slowly poured one last full pitcher of ice water all over his head, shoulders and chest – still towering over Scott, sitting in his friend's lap with his tight jeans shorts stretched out and pressing against his swollen underbelly. He straightened up and shook himself off swiftly, spraying shiny water drops all over his face and body... In the dark blue light, Phil's green eyes were sparkling bright like distant fireworks.

– “Oh! I don't know...” He rubbed and scratched his chest hair with both hands, so enticingly Scott felt ready to come in his pants. “Would it be so bad if I did?”

■ ■ ■

March 29th, 1990 – Thursday

  Phil needed some sort of energy drink to stay awake behind the wheel. Black coffee would have to do... They were in a hurry, as they left the B4 Club with one last, long hug from Bjørn and Gunnar around 3AM.

  Rick was waiting for them, so patiently as he could.

  He needed their help to get out of his room, and the hospital, as they opened the door before him. The poor guy had to weigh almost 500lbs... His belly was so round that his extra large hospital nighties couldn't quite cover him entirely, stretched to their limit as they were. With each slow and ponderous step, Rick looked like he was about to give up and go back to bed – but he was determined to leave town.

– “There you go, Rick... Baby steps.”

  When Rick was safely sitting inside the trailer, Phil closed the truck's back doors and jogged around to the driver's seat. Scott was staying with the fatter man as he was about to say goodbye.

– “Talk about a Behemoth!” Scott mumbled to himself, considering Rick's enormous belly, next to him.

  They felt the truck moving around and turning at street corners.

  Phil was careful to drive below the speed limit. The last thing they wanted now was to get pulled to the side of the road by a cop.

  Alone with Scott in the trailer, Rick looked grumpy. They were on their way to save him from some mysterious but lethal threat to his life, and he still didn't behave like he was grateful to either of them.

– “Scott...”

– “Yeah?”

– “I have to tell you something. Before I leave town.”

– “Okay.”

– “You should be more careful... More careful than I was, at least.”

– “Okay...”

– “Don't trust the guys who keep setting the rules at school. They didn't get to kick you out, and they're furious about it. Serves them right. But it's not like them to give up so easily. They will try to get rid of you, one way or another...”

– “I'll keep that in mind.”

– “There's something else...”

– “Yes?”

– “Well... Someone else.”

– “Who?”

  Rick lowered his voice.

– “Your dumb blonde friend, our driver right now...”

– “Phil?”

– “Yes... You can't trust him.”

– “Come on. I can't trust anyone in this godforsaken town?”

– “Okay, no... I didn't mean it that way. It's not the same.”

  Scott really didn't need to be reminded how Phil was the only guy who showed up to save him, when he was poisoned. That was their first night together – and Rick didn't have to know about any of it.

– “What's wrong about him?”

– “You must have heard rumors, and I bet that someone in Augustine Bells was eager to warn you against getting too close with our students' blonde bear mascot.”

– “Why's that?”

– “Because...” Rick shrugged. “He really is their secret mascot.”

– “What, like a secret heartthrob?”

– “Something like that, but that would imply that they have a heart. On the other hand, it's no secret in this town that our young medical doctor has a soft spot for boys... Fat boys. The fatter, the better...”

  Rick winked at Scott, who didn't like his tone any more than the wicked glitter in his gaze as he went on to suggest something which he openly disapproved – but which fascinated him at the same time.

  Scott had met people like Rick before in his “career” as a journalist, in the course of interviews. He was the kind of guy whose ultimate dream in life was to be appointed as member of the jury for a long murder trial involving sexual assault, abuse and rape on an underage girl...

– “It didn't strike me that Phil would get anywhere close to them.”

– “Take a look sometimes. A lot can happen in an examination room.”

  That brought a discrete smile to Scott's face. “Oh! sure... Been there, done that. Done him, too.” He thought.

– “Everyone I've met looks down on him, at school. Even the students at the hospital seem to resent him. I would understand if they flirted with him as a means for them to gain access to drugs... Right?”

  Rick scratched his pudgy, thick and unshaven double chin.

– “Nah... Phil doesn’t do drugs, and he doesn’t sell drugs. I would have caught him... But, of course, he understands these fucking kids better than we do.”

– “Why's that?”

– “I think he was a nasty piece of work when he was their age.”

– “Huh...” Scott wasn't convinced. “I thought he was dirt poor. All those students are filthy rich!”

– “Oh yes. He was nothing like them, for that matter. That makes it a lot worse... I've never been able to make Phil talk about his teenage years, but I can’t be wrong about this. He was a seriously messed up, resilient and violent kid.”

– “You would never guess when you see him now.”

– “Nuh huh. You can totally get that vibe if you know how to look at him, more closely. Most people act nicely and politely because they were taught to act that way... As they grow up in a healthy, wealthy and comfortable environment, they find out that the can get away with some level of misdemeanor, like stealing little things of no particular value but so shiny... Lying to your parents about what you've done... Bullying someone younger because he's weak and you can outrun his bigger brother... In any case, you learn how to misbehave and get away with it. You get creative with your excuses, and see how far you can go. You've seen our students, at Augustine Bells. They can never be so bloated as they are entitled... That's how our modern society works, and doesn't work. Anyone who feels that he can make the rules bend to his wishes grows a taste for disorder. Since everything they do is accepted in the end, they have to keep pushing those boundaries. “Order eventually falls in love with Chaos”, old Porkenham told me once. Of course, those who burn their wings as they soared too high fall down and get sent to us...”

– “And in Phil’s case?”

– “It's the complete opposite. He follows the rules because he needs to know that there are rules in this world. Discipline is not an attitude for a soldier like him. I've seen a few veterans like him, only one step away from nervous breakdown, who would collapse if their set of rules was shaken or even questioned. The guy's a mess. He has to take everything one step at a time. That's why he keeps looking so fucking dumb. Sure, he's doing his best to hide it but it's not like he can fool anyone...”

  As much as Scott hated to admit it, Rick had a point.

– “Phil is like... I'd say, a drug addict in rehab. He knows how fierce and brutal he can get, but he doesn’t want to be rough or even rude to anyone. As former delinquents get to pull it off sometimes, he can be quite the gentleman. What needs to be hidden, he keeps it in the dark... He knows how to respond like the perfect soldier, because he can read you at first sight while you have no clue about that green-eyed blonde beast... That's the urban jungle cat in him. Modesty and Southern good manners couldn’t explain his behavior.”

– “What did you make of it, then?”

– “I've figured it out recently. Phil can’t afford to be antagonistic to anyone. He's been living check to check his whole life. Scanty paychecks too... I bet he barely scrapes by. Many people depend on him in this town, not just at school or the hospital. Important people too, but what matters is that he is working for them. Down and below them. He can do pretty much everything, but he never gets to decide on anything. That's how it works around here... Simple, stupid, silent. More secure and more reassuring for everyone.”

– “I see.”

– “If you start shaking things up around Phil, if you unleash the beast that is growling inside him, I’m not sure that he would be able to stop it before this whole town is on fire! Make no mistakes, because there's no such thing as a quiet place when it's built on top of a volcano and things could get violent, like... physical. Real violence, no holds barred. Nothing like the pranks and shenanigans those rich brats in Augustine Bells keep boasting about.”

– “You mean... bloodshed?”

– “I mean bloodbath...”

■ ■ ■

  Back at the Fat Trout trailer park and camping before dawn, Scott and Phil took things easy... They had to catch up on some sleep before they could even put their thoughts in order. It was late in the afternoon when they woke up.

  Phil got up first and came out of the trailer of their truck, yawning and scratching his tummy like a big, hungry bear coming out of hibernation.

– “You must be hungry...” He turned to Scott, who was still sprawled out on the blankets and large, fluffy throw pillows on the floor of the trailer.

– “Yeah... How's the weather outside?”

– “It's okay. Not too cold, but windy. It may be raining tonight...”

– “I'm not going anywhere if it's going to rain.”

– “More hot dogs?”

– “And pop corn!” Scott was quick to answer.

  He also reminded Phil that he would eat no such food. Scott wasn't too concerned that his friend had to go on a slimming diet, but he wanted all that comfort food for himself.

  As usual, Phil had made sure that they would be fully packed, with enough food supplies for a large families. Scott allowed him to eat all the orange juice he wanted, and most of the milk. He could have some lean chicken, fresh salad, carrots and apples, but candied apples were meant for him. Naturally, sweets were out of question.

– “Face it, big guy. You need to cut down on all those carbs in your diet, really cut down your food intake like you've never cut down before! And no more beer or alcohol.”

– “Wow...” Phil's voice dropped. “Cold turkey, then.” 

– “Certainly no Thanksgiving turkey for you... Your body is clearly too susceptible to sweets and carbs. And you already can't hold your liquor, so it's only going to get worse!”

  Scott spent the whole evening teasing his friend, while he kept going from one hot dog to the next, with fried chicken, yams and pop corn, followed by Phil's homemade chocolate chess pie and banana pudding with wafers, washed down with jugs of beer straight from the keg...

  Early in the morning, Phil went down to swim in the lake again then he started making waffles and cotton candy for Scott. The weather was still cloudy and threatening to rain on their day out, as he was manning the barbecue for lunch.

  Sitting on a towel and backed up with pillows and the icebox, Scott devoured more burgers than he could count with tick, rich beef patties and plenty of sauce, sausages, ham and taters.

– “BUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRP...”

  Phil chuckled, still watching over the barbecue with his tongs.

– “Easy there, big boy. If you keep this up, you'll really pack on pounds faster than I can ever manage to lose the half of it...”

  Scott ignored him, grabbing another burger with both hands.

– “It's not my fault if everyone thinks you're too fat for your new job.”

– “I know...”

– “You must have gone on a diet before.”

– “Not that I really had to put my mind to it...”

– “Of course. That would require thinking about it.”

– “When I was in the Army, I was reasonably lean. Going home, I had a hard time landing on my feet so I didn't really have that much money to buy food... I lost a few pounds, and that really didn't feel good.”

– “You've had it a lot better here, in Biberton.”

– “I should think so...”

  Phil was a hard-working young man, but with such a laid-back attitude that he didn't even notice as he naturally slimmed down before Summer, or as he put on a little weight in the Fall or during the Holidays season.

  When he suggested that they could go hiking in the afternoon, while it was still sunny, Scott frowned and shook his head in disapproval. He didn't want to move from their spot, where they had such a great view over the lake – and he could get his hands on more grilled sausages for hot dogs with Phil's special hot sauce.

– “Have you ever been hiking?”

– “I have.”

– “I doubt you can read mountain weather properly.” Scott grumbled.

– “We don't have to go too far into the woods.”

– “Yeah... I imagine we'd get lost. What then?”

  Phil let out a sigh, but he was smiling.

– “What's that?”

– “You can be so funny sometimes, Scott...”

– “Funny...”

  Scott had never felt so lazy in his life, but there was nothing funny about it. Phil offered him another plate of burgers, but they were clearly running out of food. He paused and whispered lovingly to his friend.

– “The woods are ruthless, dreadful, deaf and dull...”

– “Huh? Is that... Shakespeare too?”

– “You bet it is...” Phil turned to Scott with an impish smile. “We should pull ourselves together and move on.”

– “One last hot dog?”

– “We're out of buns for today.”

  Phil helped him get up, holding him in his arms.

– “Oh yeah?” Scott slapped his friend's tight ass. “How about yours?”

– “You must be really hungry...”

– “Hungry for bear meat.” He growled, teasing Phil more than ever.

– “Careful far you're hungry for. You know what they say... Don't sell a bear's skin before you've killed the beast.”

  Then he hugged Scott so tight and kissed him so passionately that the fat boy felt his eyes rolling back in his head all over again.

– “You're killing me, you beast.”

– “Okay, let's get this ball rolling...” Phil smiled and kissed him again as he grabbed the fat boy's waist with both hands, causing his budding love handles to jiggle.

■ ■ ■

  Phil could spend hours outside and not say a word as he was busy cooking more waffles for Scott's breakfast, swimming and skinny dipping in the lake, prowling like a beast in the morning mist, watching the sun rise over the mountains and tidying up what little space they had in the trailer for their sleeping pad.

  Sleeping on the floor like this wasn't the best. Besides, it was only reasonable to assume that the truck's suspension would give anytime soon or the whole trailer would fall apart if they spent another night like this. At least it didn't reek of crude oil, gas cans and spare tires like the back of most trucks. Scott could take in the smells of pop corn, caramel, hot cocoa and marshmallows, which made his mouth water already...

  When he came out of the truck, he found Phil standing on the pier by the lake, next to few boats, with a hand over his eyes like a visor.

– “There's a small island in the middle of this lake.”

– “Oh yeah? I didn't notice...”

– “And there's a house, or a shelter. We should go over and take a look.”

– “Why?”

– “It's definitely going to rain tonight. Nothing like a gentle drizzle... I mean, you can already feel it in the air. There's a storm gathering up, and you don't want to spend the night in the back of a metal truck...”

– “What makes you think we'll be safe in that lonely hut, on an island?”

– “Let's find out.”

  With an oar in each hand, Phil sat down in the next boat. It was only tied to the pier. Scott hesitantly joined him and settled so comfortably as he could in front of him.

  Phil was a strong and excellent rower, at the stern. No surprise there... He must have spent hours and hours on that kind of machine, at the gym. Scott considered how still and dark the water was, around their little boat. That lake was deeper than he thought, in some places.

  The islet in question was shaped like a short pyramid with a small wood house on top, surrounded with a few big rocks, grassy slopes and thin, tall trees swinging their branches in the wind.

  Scott slouched and dragged his feet, hands in his pockets, as he was followed his friend to the hut. Phil turned the handle and pulled the door open immediately.

– “You really have no problem, breaking and entering like this?”

– “Who's breaking anything here? The door was closed, but there is no lock. We can come in.”

– “Oh, well... It's a shanty. It's a shack...”

– “So it is.” Phil took a look inside. “Come in and shack up with me?”

  This bad boy could be too irresistible for words, sometimes – especially when he switched to full-on “bad boy” mode. Scott didn't comment on it, but he was actually impressed... He didn't expect Phil to be so devil-may-care or adventurous, when they only needed a safe place to spend the night. They could always find a motel somewhere.

  Scott couldn't deny that exploring this shelter together was a lot more daring than checking in to end up in a cheap hotel room... It made him consider just how much of a romantic his friend could be.

  The place had to be a hunting hut. The entire building was pretty much one vast living room with sturdy furniture and a large stone fireplace. As he was going around it, looking for smaller adjacent rooms, Scott found the kitchen corner. There were empty shelves and a sink, but no faucet and no plumbing anywhere – no electricity either.

  Phil looked satisfied with what they had.

– “We should be fine. There's a good mattress on that bed. There's dry wood next to the fireplace. The chimney flue looks okay to me...”

– “Come on, the place is cold and damp. This mattress is almost wet.”

– “We have time to make it dry and toasty.”

– “Toasty... Now that you mention it, how about dinner?”

– “I'll bring in all the food we have in the truck, and our blankets, and our pillows. Once there is a good fire burning in this room, it will feel just like a bear's den.”

  For a guy like Phil, these had to be magic words. Scott wasn't quite convinced yet, but he had no better solution to offer.

– “You'd better hurry up. It looks like you were right about that storm.”

  Phil had to go back and forth six or seven times between the hut and their truck but he managed to carry everything they needed, park their vehicle somewhere safe and pull the boat up the dirt track before the wind started blowing more ominously...

– “Can you start a fire in this place without burning down the house?”

– “These logs are all dry and splintered. They will catch on fire easily.”

  A few minutes later, a crackling fire was burning in the grate.

  Phil had to move most of the furniture around the room. He brought the bed in front of the fireplace and spent some time warming up the mattress, almost ironing with his frying pan full of cooking oil after he had made grits for Scott. When he found it warm and dry, he spread a comforter, drapes and bed covers so it was almost fluffy and more than inviting by that light.

  With all the plates and glasses on display on a low table by the bed for dinner, the only thing that Scott could possibly find missing would be a champagne ice bucket with two glasses. They had a full keg of beer left. That would work just the same.

  Phil was done with his friend's desserts. Cooking by the fire made him sweat more than usual, especially after he had carried armchairs, tables and a whole bed with a heavy wood frame and post.

– “Dinner's ready. Right on time, too. It's going to be a rough night...”

  Scott caught him by surprise, hugging him from behind with some kind of cloak in his hands.

– “Look what I've found!”

– “What is it?”

– “It's a bear skin. This place really is a hunter hut...”

  Phil took it in his hands and caressed the furry pelt slowly. This was the genuine hide of an adult brown bear. It made him look sad, somehow. Phil was no hunter, and it felt like he was sorry for the animal who had been shot to provide such a large piece of interior decoration.

  The storm was getting closer by the minute, and lightning caused the windows to suddenly flash with bursts of white light.

– “Are you hungry for dinner?”

– “More like... dinner and a show.”

– “What do you mean?”

  Scott grabbed the collar of his friend's jeans vest and looked deep into his green eyes, then the bear skin, then back to him.

– “Put it on.”

– “It's not a coat, Scott... It's a rug.”

– “Then put it on, you rugged beast of a man!”

  Phil didn't know what to say.

– “Come on, you big lug. Take off your vest, your shirts and pants. Get naked for me and put on this bear skin... Okay?”

– “Okay...”

  Still somewhat unsure, Phil slowly took off his shoes, then his vest and his plaid shirt, pulled off his T-shirt, his socks and his worn-out jeans, leaving them scattered on the floor. Once he was standing in his tight boxers, he looked at Scott a bit more defiantly.

– “What do you want me to do?”

– “Take this.” Scott threw the bear skin to his face. “Put it on and dance for me. Like a bear...”

– “You've already seen me dance like this. You know how silly I look.”

– “No, no... This is different. You're not dancing to entertain anyone at a local gay bar. You're doing this alone, and on your own. Just for me.”

  Scott could tell, from the wild glitter that sparked in his friend's eyes, that he was already on board with this. As he was facing the grate, it could always pass as a reflection of the fire, but he knew better. Phil's hairy chest couldn't look more tanned or more sensually blonde, under that glowing and shifting light.

– “No rhythm? No beat?”

– “Beat this...” Scott laughed, as the thunder was rolling across the sky.

– “Well, okay.”

– “It could be worse... You won't get shoved or pushed or roughed up by anyone, or bounce against a tall, fat man's sweaty belly as you go.”

– “How about you?” Phil answered with a mischievous smile.

– “Oh? Yeah... If you dance well for me, and behave, you can bump into this when you're done.” Scott grinned as he rubbed his round, soft belly.

  Phil didn't hesitate – as if there was any doubt about him not responding to his friend's demands. Naked and with both fists clenched to wear that large bear skin like a mantle, he started slowly stomping the wood floor with his feet, finding a beat that felt like a match with the storm and the long rolls of thunder roaring outside.

  He spent some time focusing on his legs and lower body, for starters. When the rumors of that growing thunderstorm became more precise, closer and more threatening around their little hut, Phil was already following nicely with his hips and his chest, then he started waving his arms up in the air – and he suddenly broke into quite an accurate bear dance, something so spontaneous and primitive as a rain dance.

  There was nothing silly or ridiculous about it. Scott was fascinated.

  The lower frequencies of such a storm worked better for a guy like him, who suffered from minor hear loss – he was moving along with every roll of thunder, and he followed the more subtle outbursts of the rain on the windows like some sort of cosmic movement...

  As he started dancing with faster, more sudden and affirmative moves, Scott couldn't help thinking that Phil kept playing with that bear skin just as he had seen guys do with the rainbow flag on top of parade buses during Pride. There was a major difference. They were prancing, showing off their guns and torsos, wearing leather gear and having fun together. Phil was alone, facing the fire in a dark and stormy night. It looked like he was celebrating the sheer, indomitable and overwhelmingly masculine forces of nature that were almost at his fingertips as he kept going...

  He wasn't alone. Fire, lightning and thunder were dancing with him.

  The wind was howling in the chimney, and the casement windows were rattling with every sudden clash of thunder. When it felt like the storm couldn't get worse, it kept growing louder and the walls shivered more than ever... It didn't take long for Scott to feel quite scared and cower, huddling up in the covers. Phil wasn't just ignoring this, he embraced it completely. Jumping up and down, moving his whole body with wild and almost ecstatic energy, he looked like he could almost growl.

  Scott couldn't tell how it happened. It looked as if Phil was no longer following the long, fierce rhythms of the storm, but he was commanding the elements as he stretched out his arms, moved his hands all over his chest and almost drew electricity from his bear skin. Was he taunting the wind and the rain, or were they acting as his devoted servants, bursting with joy as he set them free to roam over the Earth, just as his dance had to be driving them wild and eager to set the whole night sky on fire?

  Phil was surprisingly limber and light on his feet, moving his bulk in such a quick and graceful way... He was dripping with sweat, his blonde hair sprinkling when he shook his head. The storm was so close, so loud and so constant that he could afford to pause and wave his hands slowly, carefully – as if he was holding Nature itself at arms length. He could so easily take off all the veils that were covering her, reveal the Darkness that was his true realm and dominion...

  It was the strangest and the most arousing thing Scott had ever seen. Both men were fully erect, and throbbing, but he was also terrified in a totally unexpected way. Phil was still dancing, huffing and puffing like a beast... With his mouth half-open, he finally looked straight at Scott and almost groaned as he licked his perky red lips.

  Something snapped inside Scott's head. Laying over the bed with a fire purring behind him, he felt like the last little pig in the tale standing before the big bad wolf – although he was probably meatier and more appetizing than the celebrated three little piglets, and Phil wasn't a “big bad wolf” but a mighty beefy bear who appeared to bestride an electric thunderstorm like most surfers only dream to ride a wave...

  Phil saw it and understood at once, somehow. The bear skin fell to the floor and he joined his friend in bed, holding him in a gentle bear hug.

– “What's wrong? Are you feeling a draft?”

– “No, no... I'm good. I was just...”

– “What?”

– “It's silly, really...”

– “Told you. I can't sing and I can't dance.”

– “No, that's not it... Honestly, you can sing pretty well, and you dance like the trees in the forest should follow your moves. No, that was... Huh, that was really something.”

– “What's wrong, then?”

– “It's just that... You looked so fierce and fiery, just now... I thought you were about to devour me like the big bad wolf feasts on the innocent little piglet.”

  Scott had no sooner told his friend that they both burst into laughs.

– “You know what makes me feel silly about this, Scott? You haven't even touched your dinner. There's plenty for you to eat and drink.”

– “At least it didn't grow cold, next to the fire.”

– “Go for it, then. Innocent little piglet?”

– “I know...” Scott laughed in return. “As if there was anything innocent about this. Or me. Or you...”

  Phil went to his duffel bag to grab a towel and wipe off the sweat. Scott was already stuffing his mouth full of scrambled eggs with bacon, grits and more. Guzzling beer from his jug, he welcomed Phil back to bed with a loud and proud belch.

– “It looks like watching this little dance has really whet your appetite.”

– “You bet...” Scott mumbled with his mouth full. “And this is my dinner. My food! You can have one of the apples from your basket.”

  With a sigh, Phil reached for a fresh and juicy apple... Then, as he was about to grab a bite, he moved closer to Scott and playfully pressed it against his lips until the fat boy kept it placed in his mouth for a second.

– “Do I really look like a pig to you?”

– “Not quite, but you can eat so much like a pig, sometimes...”

– “Yeah? So I can eat more than this tonight.” Scott shrugged. “And you won't get any of this... You're on a diet.”

  Phil moved on to sit next to him, wrapped his brawny arms around his shoulders and slowly cupped his face to kiss his greedy friend on the lips. Scott felt all tingly again, but he couldn't be more turned on when Phil whispered into his ear like the perfect bad boy he was at heart.

– “Who said I'm not going to devour you?”

■ ■ ■

  It was still raining outside... Phil kept the fire going in the hunting hut, and Scott kept him going for round after round of the wildest and most athletic sex these woods had ever hosted. Phil was so much more than the classic hunky blonde surfer dude type of guy – young, dumb and full of cum, for sure. Overflowing more than full.

  Scott had definitely given up on keeping count... Phil always kept him panting, on the edge of ecstasy, and made him come so hard that they both passed out and collapsed on top of each other in bed.

  There was no need to challenge him, as Scott was used to tease and taunt his partners to keep raising the bar. Unprecedented as it was for him, he was pretty sure that he wouldn't win at such a game against Phil... This sexy teddy bear put his partner's pleasure and comfort above his own – rough and cuddly to better rumble and tumble... One could say that his top priority was his bottom's satisfaction and happiness.

  After years of priding himself as a most accomplished power bottom, Scott found himself so completely lazy, pampered and spoiled so much he could hardly keep up... He didn't want it to stop anytime soon. He already wanted more, and he was so impatient for it knowing that he would get exactly what he wanted – more and more...

  As a result, they spent the day in bed, nestled in each other's arms.

– “Are you feeling okay?”

– “I'm good and I'm stuffed... Did you bring more doughnuts?”

  Phil was quick to respond, and naughty, as he kissed and licked Scott's lips when there was a bit of frosting left for him to taste.

– “Hey! Watch it, you greedy bear. You're on a diet.”

– “I know... I'm so hungry...”

– “A diet is a diet.”

– “I can't live on carrots and apples only. I'm not a horse.”

– “Well... Okay.”

  Scott didn't comment on it. When Phil pounded ass in the dark, or as he was standing naked in front of him now, he felt and looked hung very much like a stallion. Feeling and looking hungry was different, and it was his problem.

– “You're not going to lose thirty pounds if you eat leftover doughnuts.”

– “Have you ever left a doughnut in your plate?”

– “Not the ones you bake, for sure. They're so... tasty.” Scott teased.

– “I can live without pastries, or sweets. That won't make me lose much weight. I have to hit the gym, hard, and I don't know how I can find the spare time to do it...”

  He drank his glass of milk and sighed listlessly.

– “Tell me something I don't know.”

  Phil looked at Scott then at the blue, cloudy sky by the window.

          “Sometime we see a cloud that's dragonish,

           a vapour sometime like a bear or lion,

           a towered citadel, a pendent rock,

           a forkèd mountain, or blue promontory

           with trees upon't that nod unto the world

           and mock our eyes with air...”

  Then he sat by the bed, leaned over again and took his sweet time to kiss his friend playfully and passionately with his lips and tongue.

– “That was awesome...” Scott whispered. “What was it?”

– “Shakespeare. Antony and Cleopatra, somewhere in act four, I think.”

– “And you can play it by heart, like this?”

– “I just know it by heart. I couldn't act on a stage...”

– “Okay... Tell me more.”

– “More Shakespeare?”

– “Sure. Why not?”

– “You really are insatiable...” Phil smiled and kissed him again.

  As he kept holding him nestled against his chest, the blonde bear whispered in the most mesmerizing soft tone – punctuating his speech with kisses, which kept Scott captivated and helpless like a prey put in some hypnotic trance:

                                           “My story being done,

           she gave me for my pains a world of sighs.

           She swore in faith 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange,

           'twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful.

           She wished she had not heard it, yet she wished

           that Heaven had made her such a man. She thanked me

           and bade me, if I had a friend that loved her,

           I should but teach him how to tell my story,

           and that would woo her...”

– “Woo...” Scott repeated, moaning and shivering.

  He suddenly turned to face Phil and kissed him with all the passion, excitement and lust he felt surging and soaring again in his previously numb and limp body.

– “Was that also Antony?”

– “No...” Phil kissed him back deeply, as he fondled his chest and belly more passionately. “That's Othello.”

  He could go on, quoting more Shakespearean stuff from A Midsummer Night's Dream or some other play as he kept whispering to him so softly.

– “God, Phil...” Scott was already totally aroused and quivering under his touch. “No one talks dirty like you do...”

 

■ ■ ■

March 31st, 1990 – Saturday

  They had to leave the hut, drive the ice-cream truck out of the trailer park and go back to Biberton.

  It was still pouring. Phil had taken the opportunity to “shower” a few times, as he went out on the lawn with a small bar of soap. The rain was so thick that he couldn't see the pier or the banks of the lake. Coming back to dry himself with a towel, the wild blonde bear was shaking and shivering from the cold.

  Scott watched him tidy up the place and pack all their things in his bags and duffel bag. He didn't want to go back. He didn't even want to get out of bed. The only reason why he agreed to move was that he had eaten all the food left in the hut...

– “I don't want to get dressed.” Scott sighed. “And I don't want you to get dressed either... You should stay like this.”

– “Seriously? I don't like wearing clothes any more than the next guy, but I would get beaten to a pulp if I walked down the streets naked...”

– “I don't care about the next guy. And you're a beast.”

  Phil didn't want to insist, as he was putting on his tight, white T-shirt.

  He didn't want to coerce Scott into getting dressed or anything. When he was almost done, still barefoot but ready to leave, he took his friend's hands in his big paws with an indulgent smile.

          “I think he be transformed into a beast,

           For I can nowhere find him like a man...”

– “Don't tell me. That's Shakespeare again.”

– “It is... As you like it.”

– “Yeah, I kinda liked that. Okay, new rule! When you quote a line from Shakespeare like this, we go for another round.”

– “Deal.”

  Scott needed some help getting out of bed. Phil held him up in his arms, like the caring big brother and cuddly teddy bear he was with everyone. Scott had seen him embrace Gunnar like this, at the club. This was different, of course. Phil couldn't help getting closer and wrap his friend in some sort of invisible, fluffy blanket with his hands.

– “Tell you what, Scott... I'm not so sure that I am the beast, right now. You have showed me some new side to your character, something dark and passionate about you I had not seen before...”

– “Really? How?”

  After the days and nights they had spent together in that hunter hut, Scott was under the impression that he had found new depths in his friend's character – not the other way around...

– “You've been so... insatiable.”

– “Oh? That...”

– “I'm sorry that I didn't bring enough food. Or pillows and covers.” Phil apologized. “But I wonder if you know how much food you can put away, or how much your belly can hold...”

– “I get it. I'm a pig.”

– “No, Scott...” Phil teased him with a kiss. “You've told me so yourself. You're no innocent little piglet. You're like... a wild boar.”

– “Hey! Watch it.”

– “I will feed you as much as you want.”

  Scott felt his mind drift and fade to white, just as his legs turned to jelly once again, considering what this devilish bad boy was offering him.

– “Is that a promise?”

– “I'll do my best, and that's a promise.”

– “I'm going to get so fat!”

– “You're going to grow fatter... and fatter... and fatter...” Phil nuzzled him with a warm, heartful smile. “And I will be there to make sure that you are fat and happy.”

– “I want you to feed me like this.”

– “Okay.”

– “More!”

– “Okay...”

– “Does that make me a beast?”

– “Maybe... Let's find out.” Phil made his friend lose it completely with another passionate kiss. “In any case, you know how much I am into the belly of the beast...”

  He had a point. Maybe Scott was the one who shouldn't be trusted.

(To be continued...)