Deck reclined in a lime green cabana chair with just his toes in the water. Paradise Island in the Bahamas was so aptly named. He had two non-English speaking escorts on either side. One might be 18, but he didn't ask for ID. All he knew was that when he chased the Red Stripe Beer with the JTSBrown, it gave him a warm glow. About as warm as the feel of his hand on Biranca's g-stringed bottom. The girls were named Biranca and Consuela. He could remember their names by thinking of breasts for Biranca and. . . well, something else for Consuela, the younger of the two consenting adults.

All he needed now was a cell phone in his pocket and the CD in his hotel suite. This would keep him shitting in high cotton for the rest of his normal life. Well, assuming his life had ever been normal.

Thinking it all over, Deck could only wonder if Kim Li was having as much fun back in the joint as he was here in Paradise. Perhaps the little Oriental boy had always had a hankering for a sweaty, beefed-up, black American gangster to bend him over a table and just fuck him. Maybe that was what all this had been about in the first place. Hell, the boy had been acting sort of coy in their one face-to-face meeting, oh-so-many words ago.

But as Deck took one last drag on an overused Lucky, he looked up at the sky, with the sun just going down over the most pristine horizon on earth, the golds and the slight purples tapering off to shades of orange and deep magentas. He surveyed the brilliant blue of the water before him, watching the ripples lap on the manicured beach. He could even see the outline of the full moon just over his right shoulder. The slight form of that perfect orb made him reflect on all that had happened, and he looked right in the eyes of Biranca (the older of the two consenting adults) and spoke his heartfelt words of love prior to calling it an evening.

Spanish is a loving tongue, but this was the only portion of the Language of Love which Deck had bothered to learn:

Esta noche, voy a necesitar el lubricante especial.

Back One . . . / . . . The Beginning

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