They'd been at this for over an hour, taking turns making him fuck or suck them. He'd had the distinct displeasure of having to suck off Jessie after he'd fucked him. Bastard hadn't even bothered to clean himself off and the taste was still so strong in Mitch's mouth that he knew he was going to vomit later. At least he'd managed to school his gag reflexes enough to stave off throwing up until everyone had finished.

Mickey kept Mitch's head down over his limp cock while Tanner positioned himself behind Mitch, entering his slicked and stretched entrance with ease. "Oh, Richard, I do love this kid. Every one of us can take him a dozen times and he's still tight."

The words didn't mean anything to Mitch anymore. He didn't even know how many times he'd heard them. Tanner wrapped his fingers in Mitch's hair and used it to pull him off Mickey's cock and drive him back to meet the vicious thrusts. It didn't hurt as much as it used to, but that was almost worse.

Louis leaned over and kissed Mickey on the mouth, sweeping his tongue over his brother's lips before turning his attention to Mitch. It was sick, debased and wrong and, worse yet, it no longer fazed Mitch in the least. Louis and Mickey were brothers and they had incestuous sex, but that wasn't any worse than anything else that went on here.

Richard chuckled from where he was sitting at his desk and idly played with himself. It was surreal. In the past week, Mitch hadn't been awake longer than it took to have sex, eat food, or take a shower before Richard shoved more drugs in him that knocked him back out for an indeterminable amount of time. If it wasn't for the calendar that Richard marked off on the wall, he wouldn't have known it had been a week.

Louis pulled on his nipple ring sharply, catching him off guard and he squeaked involuntarily. Each of them had their own habits and Mitch had learned them like the good little whore he was, because if he did, he could make some of them end quicker and others be less violent.

Mickey liked to force people to give him pleasure, instead of just take it. On most occasions, he'd prefer to have Mitch ride him, or suck him off without touching him, which was just fine with Mitch. No matter how humiliated with it he had been before, he'd learned that when he controlled the sex, it was much less painful.

Louis liked to make his partners cum, especially when it was obvious they didn't want it. This was a little harder for Mitch to handle, but as long as he was pliant and willing to show at least some kind of reserved pleasure, Louis would be gentle with him and that was always preferable to when Louis got mad and fucked him without preparation or thought.

At first, Mitch had thought that Tanner liked to dominate people, but that hadn't been it at all and Mitch had figured that out the first time Tanner had come to one of Richard's parties covered in bruises and welts. Tanner just liked violence. He didn't care if he was inflicting it on someone, or if it was being inflicted on him, he just liked it. If Mitch at least tensed up, or gave some sign that he was unwilling, then Tanner got off quicker.

The thing about Tanner that confused Mitch was that Tanner appeared to like Paul and he'd do anything, even be gentle, if it were Paul he was fucking. The history between the two of them wasn't entirely clear, but he knew that Tanner's obsession ran very deep and that half of the control Richard had over Tanner, was his ability to control Paul. Sometimes, if Paul was around during sex, Tanner took it easy on him, but that also meant it lasted longer.

Jessie liked to dominate and he liked to make people hurt. When it really came down to it, Jessie didn't care if he resisted, cried, or screamed, just so long as Mitch did what he was told. He particularly liked to make Mitch beg him to stop, but he liked it more when Mitch begged him to keep doing it, which Mitch did often enough, because the sooner Jessie got what he wanted, the sooner it was over.

Richard got off on control. It didn't matter if Mitch scratched and bit and bled, or if he lay on the bed like a corpse, as long as Richard was in control of him. Unfortunately, that particular kink was what had caused Mitch so much pain lately, because Richard apparently felt so out of control in his life - what with the waitress getting pregnant and Paul storming off and refusing to participate in the parties - that he had taken it out on Mitch. There was a myriad of hand shaped bruises on his arms and legs in varying shades of yellow and green.

Tanner yanked his hair harder as he came and Mitch bit his lip as a few strands of hair were pulled from his scalp. When Tanner pulled out, Louis pushed him back so that he was leaning against Tanner and took his half hard cock into his mouth, gently sucking it. Slowly, Mitch felt his cock engorge and he moaned, letting Louis expertly suck him off.

Coming had become harder and harder to deal with. He knew that it was a physical reaction to the stimulation. He knew it had little to do with what he wanted and that it didn't mean he liked it, but that didn't make it easier, especially when it was oral sex. At least with anal, there was pain behind it. His only consolation was that this meant they were almost finished with him.

Tanner pulled his hair again and he arched into Louis mouth. Almost there. Almost there and then it would be over for tonight. With a muffled cry, he came in Louis's mouth, closing his eyes against the humiliation as he moaned while his cock was milked.

Mitch dropped to the bed as Louis moved away and Tanner let go of him. His body felt week, but at least they were finished. Crawling up, he stumbled into the bathroom, ignoring Richard who patted him on the arse as he passed. He shut the door behind him and slid to the floor, cradling his head in his hands. It was over, it was over, it was over.

A wave of nausea ripped through him and he hurled himself across the bathroom and to the toilet just in time to miss throwing up on the floor. When the only thing left was dry heaves, he laid on his back and took deep breathes. Hm, the taste of the vomit was actual preferable to the taste that Jessie's cock had left in his mouth.

Slowly, he sat up and looked at the tub. If he took a bath, the blood would just cloud the water and then he'd be soaking in it, but his legs were so weak, he was afraid he wouldn't be able to stand long enough to take a shower. Screw it, he didn't have to stand the whole time, just long enough to get in there and turn on the water.

He turned the water hot enough to scald his skin bright red and sat down heavily under the spray. The door opened and Richard slipped through, shutting it behind him. Mitch looked at him, waiting. He must have had something to say, because he'd never made it a habit of staring at Mitch in the shower. When Richard didn't say anything after a few minutes, Mitch couldn't take the silence anymore. "What?"

"Nothing, I was just... considering something. Take your pill when you're done and go to bed."

He nodded and Richard shut the door, laughing at something Tanner said to him, but Mitch couldn't make it out and he didn't care to.

Less than a month. Less than a month and he'd be able to go home.

*****

Paul stared at the door to Richard's flat. He'd dropped Richard off at the airport at two that morning and been informed that it was up to him to tell Mitch what was going on. Pulling out a third cigarette, he lit it with a shaky hand. Richard had promised that as soon as he got back, he'd take care of Mitch, but that was potentially another month away and, to be honest, Paul knew how these things went. If they didn't get behind schedule by at least a week, he'd stop smoking for good.

The other thing that worried him was the way he had said that he'd take care of Mitch and the way he'd kissed Paul and winked at him when Paul had tried to question it. Of course, that was just like him. When Richard didn't want to talk about something, he wasn't going to talk about it, but what was there about taking Mitch home that he didn't want to talk about? Was it the threats? Was he planning to beat the kid before dropping him on his doorstep? Or was it that he wasn't planning to drop him on his doorstep at all? With the other boys, he taken them back where he had gotten them, but Paul had already told him several times that he wasn't going to let Richard drop Mitch off at Humps - the poor kid had been through enough already without having to deal with horny, doped up men tying to grope him in public.

Sucking the smoke, he rolled it around his mouth before breathing in and sighing. This really wasn't getting him anywhere. Richard had said the drugs would have started to wear off by the time Paul got there and that meant Mitch was probably sitting in there, disoriented and confused.

He stomach twisted as he thought about Richard's instructions to keep the kid drugged over the next few weeks, especially if he went out. Paul had never questioned Richard's instructions when it came to his boys, but... but Mitch was different. Mitch wasn't some Uni-brat that had had this coming, he was fifteen and Paul would be damned before he saw a grade-schooler addicted to sleeping pills.

He threw the cigarette on the ground and stomped it determinedly. Richard was gone and now Mitch was Paul's responsibility and he'd bloody well see to it that Mitch wasn't drugged, raped, or marked in any way.

"Someone looks pissed."

He spun around, letting go of the door handle to the flat like it had burned him. "Millie! Oh... god, you scared me."

She smiled up at him from the bottom of the stairs. "Sorry about that.  It's just that I've been watching you from my window and you've been standing here scowling for the past ten minutes. I thought you'd given up smoking?"

"I did, but your brother could drive just about anyone to bad habits."

"Oh. So, where is my brother?"

Damnit, this was exactly what Richard had been talking about. Paul couldn't think of a single other occasion when she'd bothered to come out here, let alone ask where Richard was. Usually, she was just happy that he was gone, so was she curious, or was she on to them, and if she was on to them, what exactly was she on to? Had she seen more than just random boys going in?

"He's filming a movie in America."

"Hm." She looked behind her for a moment, before smiling up at him again and he suddenly realized it wasn't a pleasant smile. It was more like the way a tiger might smile at a gazelle before attacking. "So, what are you doing here?"

Shite. What was she, taking journalism classes or something? "What's gotten into you, Millie?"

"Nothing." She threw her arms out, palms up. "Richard's always so secretive and I've recently found myself curious, is all. I mean, if you guys are life partners or whatever, why does he go out to clubs still and why does he bring people back?"

"Millie..."

Her eyes hardened, but her smile didn't waver. "And what about those other friends of his? I've watched before and you all go in at like four in the afternoon and don't come out until two or three in the morning and you're all bloody well hammered. Not to mention the fact that you come out at all. If you're Richard's boyfriend, why don't you stay the night more often?"

He opened his mouth again, but she shrugged and cut him off. "Not that it matters, or anything, I'm just... curious. What did you say you were doing here?"

His mind worked desperately for a plausible excuse. "Packing. You know, for the move."

"Right, I'll leave you to it, then."

She turned around and practically sauntered away. Bloody hell. This was not going to be easy. He watched her leave, waiting until she was well out of sight before he opened the door. The smell of sex hit him like a bat upside the head. God, had they been at it all night? He looked around and saw the unmistakable signs that he was right. Two empty boxes of pizza on the floor, video game controllers strewn out in front of the tellie, cans of beer everywhere, and, of course, Mitch, curled up in the smallest possible ball, crammed into the corner of the bed and sleeping peacefully. In fact, he was sleeping too peacefully.

Stepping forward, Paul put a hand to the boy's forehead and was relieved to feel warm skin under his palm. He was even more relieved when Mitch moaned and tried to pull away from the contact. Large eyes fluttered open and Mitch stared at Paul, his face void of expression as he worked his way through the drugged sleep.

"Paul?"

"Yeah, it's me." The dubious tone of Mitch's voice sparked more unwanted guilt. He should have come to the party, but he just hadn't been able to stomach it. Even the thought of going in there and staying sober, watching Mitch go through that, had made him almost physically ill, so he'd stayed away. Now, he didn't think that had been such a good idea.

"What'r you doin' ‘ere."

Paul couldn't help smiling at the childish slur. "Never mind that, how are you feeling?"

Mitch closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them again. "M'tired, but m'not."

"That's the drugs wearing off. How about we get you into a shower and see how you feel then?"

Twenty minutes later and Paul was watching a ravenous Mitch, wide awake and pawing through a bag of crisps. "Hungry, are you?" Mitch shrugged and then looked over, smiling brightly, but didn't say anything. Not that he needed to. Chances were, Richard hadn't bothered to wake him up for very many meals. If that were the case... "Stay put, okay?"

Locking the door behind him, he raced across the back yard, past the fruit trees, and through the back door of the house. The sound of Celtic Christmas music filled the living room over the intercom speakers. "Mrs. Guider?!"

After a moment, the music stopped and Richard's mother came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. She beamed when she saw Paul and rushed over to hug him. "Paul, dear, Millie told me you were over. How's the packing coming?"

"I didn't realize Richard had that much stuff in that little room." She chuckled and motioned for him to follow her back through the swinging door and into the kitchen. "I know it's early, but I was wondering if maybe you had some left overs? I didn't get a chance to eat dinner last night, so..."

She winked at him before going over to the fridge, "I'll bet you didn't. When was Richard's plane supposed to land in America?"

"Around noon or one, I think."

Mrs. Guider handed Paul a container filled with roast chicken and another small one with a thick, dark sauce in it. "I don't know why I worry so much. He always calls me when he goes on these things."

Paul shrugged and rummaged through the silverware drawer for a fork and a spoon. A small bag of rolls was placed in front of him, as well as another container, this one filled with green beans. "Thanks, Mrs. Guider, you're the best."

"Don't thank me, you're practically skin and bones. I'd be lax in my duty if I let me son's... husband?" Paul laughed, but didn't correct her, mostly because he wasn't sure what to call himself, either. "Anyway, it's my duty to make sure you're well fed while he's away. Besides, I'll hardly see you once you move."

He kissed her on the cheek and picked everything up, "Thanks again."

She held the door for him and he hurried across the yard, fumbling with his key in the lock and barely managing to hold everything. Mitch was still sitting on the floor with the television on. The bag lay next to him, empty. Paul sat down everything down in front of Mitch and went to the fridge, pulling out a soda.

"Eat up."

Mitch opened the container of chicken and his mouth fell open. "Oh my."

Paul chuckled, "You can heat it up if you want."

Mitch shook his head and took out a piece, devouring it in two bites. For the past two and a half months he'd lived off of pizza and hamburgers and crisps, marked with the occasional take out fish and chips or Chinese food. The chicken was like heaven to his taste buds and he closed his eyes, reveling in the texture and the herbal flavor.

"Is it good?"

He nodded and Paul pushed over the rest of the containers. Mitch smiled sublimely at the green beans and rolls. He hated green beans, but it had been so long since he'd eaten vegetables, that he would have welcomed zucchini at this point. Swallowing thickly, he turned to Paul and felt his face flush slightly, "Thanks."

Part of Mitch felt abandoned by Paul. The last few weeks had been horrible, Richard had been more abusive than ever, and he'd been more inclined to let Jessie have a go whenever he felt like it. The other part of him was surprisingly thankful. There were so many things he had done without putting up any kind of fight and somehow the idea of Paul seeing him submitting to Richard and the others was more humiliating than anything else. Still, it was nice to have Paul there, to be alone with him again. When it was just him and Paul, he didn't have to worry about being hit or raped, he could relax.

He watched Paul fish through the blankets on the bed and then under the bed until he came up with the remote for television. "Let's watch something and relax, then you can play around and I'll clean, okay?"

Mitch nodded emphatically and bit into another piece of chicken... which went immediately dry in his mouth as the television came on to a picture of a Christmas tree. That's right, it was only a week and a half till Christmas. He'd hoped he'd be home in time for it, even if he'd known that the odds were slim.

"Paul?" Paul looked at him and Mitch could see the strain in the man's face. "Do you think... will I be home in time for it, do you think? It's almost been three months, do you think Richard would let me?"

There was a lengthy silence and Paul paused the television. "Mitch, I don't really know how to tell you this, but, well it's a case of good news, bad news, really."

"What do you mean?"

"Richard got a part in a movie, they start pre-production soon. He went to America to film it and he won't be back for three to four weeks." Mitch could see Paul physically bracing for an attack, but he didn't much feel like attacking, he just felt... numb.

"Oh."

He saw Paul cringe out of the corner of his eye, "I'm... god, I'm sorry, Mitch." Paul looked down and picked at the carpet. "He'll have to take you home as soon as pre-production is over, okay? I mean, filming'll start soon after and that can go on for months, so..."

Months? A sob came out of Mitch's throat before he could stop it, because he had long ago realized beyond a shadow of a doubt that he knew Richard Carter far better than Paul ever had. If Richard were going to let the filming of a movie force him to take Mitch home, he would have done it already. Months. He'd miss his mum's birthday. He'd miss his cousin Alley's graduation. Would he be home in time to take his finals? Not that he'd be able to take finals, because...

Paul wrapped his arms around him and Mitch noticed that hot tears were flowing freely down his face and he was whimpering. He hadn't even realized he was crying. Without thinking about it, he threw his arms around Paul and let himself cry. He was vividly reminded of a time, early on in his captivity, when he'd sought this kind of comfort and it had come from Richard. He hadn't cared who held him then, but he cared now. He cared that it was Paul, because when it was Richard, he had felt vaguely sick, now he only felt relieved and comforted.

He wasn't sure how long it took him to run out of tears, but when he did, he was aware of Paul rocking him, stroking his hair and mumbling. "Shh, it'll be okay, I promise. Shh, shh, please. It'll be better. Richard's gone, so no parties, okay? No more of the others. It's just you and me for the next few weeks. We'll play games and watch movies and I'll... I'll bring you home-cooked meals."

"Will you cook them yourself?"

Paul chuckled a little, but his hand didn't stop stroking Mitch's hair. "I would, but I'm a horrible cook. How about I ask my mother to make something tomorrow and I'll bring you the left overs. She always makes twice as much as we can eat, anyway."

Mitch sighed and relaxed into Paul's chest. It was like having a broad, firm pillow under his head, only it smelled masculine in a way that was distinctly Paul. "I'd like soup."

"She makes a spectacular tomato basil."

"That sounds nice."

There really wasn't anything left to be said, but Mitch didn't want to let go of Paul just yet. It was nice, having someone to hold him, someone he trusted. Paul had said no parties, he'd said none of Richard's other friends would come over. Besides, Mitch hadn't really expected to get home by Christmas, it had just been some silly hope. He wasn't even sure he was going to get home at all, there was so much about Richard that terrified him and made him think that this wasn't all he was capable of.

He turned his head to bury it in Paul's chest and breathed deep. At this point, he'd take what he could get and be happy with it, especially if that something included Paul.

*****

Paul listening to Mitch's deep, even breathing next to him. In the three days since Richard had left, Mitch had thrived, becoming happier, more talkative, eating full meals. He'd even managed to put a few pounds on him, which was a relief, because while the other boys had lost considerable weight as well, it somehow looked worse on Mitch. Maybe it was because Mitch had been so small to begin with.

Before, he'd had no comparison to how Mitch had behaved in the past and it was easier to imagine that his reluctance to talk and glum attitude were normal. Having talked to Cynthia and watching Mitch over the past few days, it was becoming painfully obvious that he had never before been the sullen type. In fact, according to Cynthia, he'd always been the kind of person that stood out in crowds and made people notice him. It worried him that Mitch could become so different in such a short time.

He wrapped his arm more firmly around the boy cuddled up next to him. Mrs. Guider had fixed baked salmon and rice pilaf, which Mitch had happily inhaled, then they'd settled down to watch a movie and the kid had quickly fallen asleep. Paul wasn't watching the movie either anymore, but he was afraid that if he moved, he'd wake up Mitch and it was better to let him sleep for now.

That was another thing that disturbed him, the amount of time Mitch spent sleeping. Not that there was anything else to do, but Cynthia had said Mitch was active and Paul almost wished that he could see that. Almost, because as soon as Mitch left, Paul was going to stay the hell away from him. What the kid needed was a normal life, free from any reminders of what he had been through.

"So, this makes us friends, right?"

Paul froze for a moment as the sound of Cynthia's voice filled the room.

"So, this makes us friends, right?"

Shite! Mitch stirred while Paul struggled to get his phone out of his back pocket without waking him.

"So, this makes us friends, right?"

Mitch lifted his head and blinked his eyes open. "Cyn?"

Bloody fuck! Finally, Paul gave up trying to be discrete and just stood up, dumping a confused Mitch on the bed as he ran for the door.

"So, this makes u..."

"Hello?" He shut the door behind him and closed his eyes, hoping the kid wouldn't rush it.

"Hey, Paul, it's Cynthia."

There was no sound of movement from inside the room and he relaxed against the door. "Hey, how are you doing?"

"Good, only I just saw something on the news that has me a little... confused."

"What?" Did the police have clues? Was Richard or himself a suspect?

"I just saw a segment where they said that Richard Carter had come out of the closet and that his life partner was... well, you."

Oh, that. Richard hadn't told him when he was planning on telling the media, but apparently, he'd already done so. Damnit, it would have been nice of him to let Paul know. "Yeah, um, that's... that's right. I am Richard Carter's life partner."

"Oh," she paused, "because you told me that you weren't gay and we did... well, let's just say I wouldn't expect a gay man to be able to perform, I guess."

So, they had had sex. "Look, I'm really, really sorry. I'd had a fight with Richard that night and I was damned and determined to get drunk and, as per usual, I have now made an arse of myself." She didn't say anything for a moment and he sighed, "I'm sorry."

"Can we go out tonight and, I don't know, talk?"

She wanted to go out? "Why?"

Cynthia chuckled and even though it sounded strained, it was a comfort. "I like you and if we can't be anything else, I'd like us to be friends. Besides, at least I know it's not me, it's my vagina."

He couldn't help but laugh, mostly in relief. "Yeah, we can go out. I'll be there in an hour."

"Thanks."

She hung up the phone and he looked at it for a moment. So, she wanted to be friends. He'd never managed to be friends with a girl before, either they wanted something else, or he'd fucked it up from the start. With a shake of his head, he stepped back inside the room. Mitch was still sitting on the bed, much in the same disheveled position he'd left him in.

"Was that Cyn?"

Paul considered lying, but he wanted Mitch to trust him, "Yes."

Mitch sat back a little and pulled his knees up, wrapping his arms around them. "She has your number?"

"Remember, the night me and Richard fought over that waitress?" He waited for Mitch to nod before continuing, "I went out drinking at a club and she was there. Honestly, I think she came here looking for you, but she hasn't said as much."

For several seconds, he thought Mitch was going to cry, but then the kid nodded and put his chin on his knees. It was impossible to read what was going on behind those eyes, but he could guess that it was a combination of confusion and concern. Paul sat on the bed and wrapped an arm around Mitch's shoulder before he could pull away. "I don't want to be mean, Mitch, but... well, she isn't going to find you. She's guessed that it was Richard you were seen dancing with, but she assumes you left alone or with someone else."

Mitch nodded and to Paul's surprise, no tears sprang to his eyes at the thought that his chance to be rescued was cut off. Instead, he seemed more determined. "I don't..." he bit his tongue ring, pulling it between his teeth, "I don't want her to get hurt."

Paul hugged Mitch tighter, "She won't. Richard doesn't know who she is or that she has any connection with you and I'm not telling him." Why wasn't he telling Richard? His entire life he'd always run to Richard with problems, he'd always told him everything. Why was it that he didn't trust Richard with this? "I'm not going to drag her into this, okay? Now you get some sleep."

"Where are you going?"

"Out, I'll be back in a few hours, okay?" He turned around and walked out without a second glance.

*****

"So this is called what, again?"

"A Buttery Nipple."

She giggled and swiped at his arm, but took a deep breath and downing it, shuddering at the taste of the alcohol.

Paul chuckled as she looked at the little shot glass between her fingers. "Good?"

"It's... kind of sweet."

"Like you." He winked at her before taking a large gulp of his beer.

She blushed, but nodded, "Like me."

Paul tilted his head sideways and took her in, flushed face and all. He had pulled up to her apartment to find her waiting for him outside, wearing lowride jeans and a brown, sparkly shirt that made the blue in her hair too bright. She was wearing thick snow boots and had very little makeup on, and her hair was down, hanging around her face and making her look so incredibly young. In fact, if it wasn't for the fact that he had already slept with her, he would have refused to buy her alcohol.

Still, she was nice and she seemed to brush off his verbal blunders without holding them against him. "You know, I'm really glad you still want to be friends. Most of the time I make an arse of myself in front of girls and they never want to see me again."

"I would have thought that was on purpose, so you wouldn't have to commit." For a moment, he wasn't sure what she was talking about. "I mean, what with you being with Richard and everything I assumed that all that public dating was nothing more than a stunt to throw the media off your trail."

Shite. "Yeah, well, they were, it's just... the other girls never really wanted to be friends or anything." God, he was making an arse of himself again, no wonder Richard didn't like him getting drunk when he was out on his own. "You know how they always show gay men on television surrounded by girls? That's not me, I've always wondered why."

Cynthia nudged him with her shoulder. "Probably because if they asked you whether their butt looked big you'd say yes. You are a very honest man, Paul Zalinsky, I like that about you."

If he hadn't been acting for years, his smile would have tightened. "Paul Gerring, actually. Zalinksy was my grandmother's maiden name."

Cynthia played with the rim of her shot glass and Paul watched her long finger nails in fascination. They were painted orange and the polish had chipped on several of them, but somehow that made it look... cuter. "Bartender, can you get the lady a Sex on the Beach and I think I need a martini."

The bartender looked dubiously at her, as he had the last three times Paul ordered her a drink, but made it and put it in front of her, fixing Paul's next. Cynthia looked at it for a moment, "So, what's in this?"

"I've no idea, but I like it."

With a laugh, she tipped it towards him and then took a large drink, her face puckering greatly. "Oh, my god, that is awful!"

Paul took a sip of his martini and then pushed it towards her, trying not to laugh. "I think we're going to need a Sprite after this."

Cynthia nodded, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "So, Paul, how long have you known Richard?"

"Why?" His heart had jumped into his throat. He'd been dodging Millie's questions for days and he'd just drunk two beers and was starting on a martini. Of course, she'd had three shots of hard liquor, but that didn't mean she couldn't think corners around him.

"Well, last time we talked, I told you all about me. I guess I just wanted to know a little bit about you. Besides, it's not every day you get to talk with a tabloid headline." Thanking the bartender, she sipped her Sprite.

Paul considered telling her he didn't want to talk about Richard, but the truth was, he did. His entire life there hadn't been a single person he could talk to about Richard. He hadn't had many other friends and the ones he did have were Richard's friends as well, and considering the kinds of things he wanted to talk about, his parents were right out of the question. Cynthia smiled at him and he hunched over in his seat, melting at the chance to get some of it off his shoulders.

"Richard and I met in grade school, much like you and Mitch. I was always getting bullied around and Richard swooped in and saved me. He's always been there for me, my whole life, you know? If I was worried about a test, he would stop whatever he was doing - he'd cancel a date, or he'd skip out on going places with his parents - just so that he could help me. If I got in trouble, he was always there to get my out of it, because he was always very good at that. I... I love him, I do, but..."

She listened quietly and waited patiently while Paul tried to gather his thoughts. There was so much that he wanted to tell her and so much that he couldn't, if only for her own safety. He'd told Mitch he wasn't going to get her involved in this and he had meant it.

"Sometimes he does things, things I can't even begin to understand."

"Like what?" Glancing at her, he didn't see anything devious in her sincere gaze.

"Like Tanner. Tanner's this friend of Richard's and I don't really like him. See, he kind of gets off on hurting people or having them hurt him and I'm not into that, especially not when it comes to sex, but Tanner's got this crush on me, has since grade school." He set down his martini and tapped on the bar, motioning for the bartender to get him another. "So, Richard throws these parties and he keeps making me and Tanner have sex, like he gets off on it or something, and I don't know why I go along with it. No, you know what, I do, it's because of the drugs. That's another thing."

He nodded his thanks to the bartender and took a large gulp. "Richard does these crazy drugs, I don't even know what they're called or what they do, but they make... they make me want to have sex. It's like my skin is crawling for it and when I get like that, it doesn't matter that it's Tanner. God, this is so messed up."

She hadn't said anything and there was no recrimination or disgust that he could see in her face, only concern and curiosity. Paul had always had a low tolerance for alcohol, at least, lower than the others, and he should have stopped after one beer, but it was nice to have someone to listen to him and an excuse to say things he'd wanted to say.

Cynthia wasn't sure where this was going, but she got the feeling that it was going somewhere she wanted to be. When they'd broken off a week ago, she'd known there was more to Paul than he was saying. She hadn't been lying about him being honest, but, more importantly, he was a horrible liar. God only knew how he managed to act, but there was something in the way he shifted from one foot to the other and kept looking to the side, as if checking for who might be listening, that told her he did remember the night Mitch disappeared and there was something he wasn't telling her.

"Then there's Richard's boys."

Bingo. "Boy's?"

"Well, not boys, young men, really. He picks them up at bars and takes them back to his place and they... live with him a few months before he sends them home."

His feet were propped up on the bottom of the stool, but she could see him moving them and he'd looked up to make sure the bartender wasn't near them. Of course, it could just be that Richard was a celebrity and he was nervous about anyone getting gossip on him. "It must really bother you."

"Huh?"

"He's been your boyfriend, or, well, life partner for years. It must bother you that Richard thinks he needs someone other than you."

There was a pause that lasted just half a second too long. "Yeah, it does."