It didn't take long to get back to the Martins. In fact, Blair wondered why they didn't just walk to the other kids' houses. Lisa was waiting for them in their kitchen - a normal suburban kitchen, nothing like the Glass's.

But it wasn't like the Lesters or Thompsons, either. There was something he couldn't put a finger on - something warmer.

He shrugged. "How are you doing, Lisa?"

"I'm a nervous wreck. Look! I made enough cakes to feed your entire division!"

She pointed to a line of cake layers on her counter. "That's how you can tell I'm nervous. I cook."

"Can't blame you, darling. And they smell *divine*. We can use them for the party when we get TJ back."

"Do you think we can?"

She looked at him with eyes full of hope.

"Sweetheart, I just need to make a couple of phone calls, and I'm *sure* we'll have him safe and sound. I just need to make a couple of phone calls to be *absolutely* certain."

"You got all that from the Glass kid's description?" Timothy sounded amazed.

"Timothy, is there *some* place where I can make those calls in *private*? Can't give away *all* our secrets."

"Oh, sure. I gotta study just this way." Timothy led the way to a sunny room off the living room. Blair didn't know what he expected, but this wasn't it. There was a large TV, but it was off in the corner, and what would be a nice sound system except it was in pieces. There were some very decent original oils on the walls and some small sculptures scattered on the book cases, which were filled with neatly arranged and well-thumbed magazines.

Timothy left them alone with every sign of reluctance. Jim called up the station and asked if a Melvin Forster had a lavender Beetle registered to him. "Yes, darling. I said *lavender Beetle*. Yes, of course I'll hold, honey." He sighed and motioned to Blair. "Come keep me company, sweetcheeks."

Blair put the motorcycle magazine he'd been leafing through carefully back where he'd found it and sauntered over to Jim, who pulled him into his lap. "Jim, be careful! We don't want...mmmm...mmmm...you are soooo....mmmm"

Blair succumbed to his talented mouth. "Wha...ohh..."

As he did, he noticed that while one hand was quite happily roaming Blair's body, the other was holding the phone (issuing tinny Muzak - since when did they do that to "Dust in the Wind"?) firmly to his ear. Blair let his own hands explore, discovering that Jim was still quite firm even after their interruption of the morning. He took a moment to stroke him to hardness just to hear his breathing change. Blair grinned. He didn't want to go too far, not here and not now, but his lover was *so* much fun to play with.

"Wha..." Jim broke free. "You are a complete *doll*, darling. Do you have a current address on him? Oh, that is wonderful! Yes...yes, I got it. Oh, *Miss Melly*...What? No, not you, honey. Thank you again."

He clicked off his phone and put it in his pocket. "We have to go, Sandburg."

Blair sighed dramatically, which got him an amused grin, and stood up. "You know where we're going?"

"Yeah. I just can't figure out *why*...it was her voice. Miss Melly, Miss Melly, Miss Melly."

Jim shook his head.

"Jim?"

"I just...I'll call Simon and then we'll head out. Tell the Martins."

Miri was there holding Lisa's hand while Timothy paced. "Guys? We may have good news. Jim thinks he knows who the kidnappers are. Actually...Jim thinks he *knows* the kidnappers themselves."

"So he knows where they are?" Timothy's face just lit up.

"He seems to. We'll be out of here as soon as he finishes talking to our captain."

"I want to go with you." Both husband and wife spoke in unison.

"I...there isn't much room in the truck and it could get dangerous."

"Blair, you told me you're a civilian. You're going."

"That's...that's different. I'm...I'm Jim's partner. And I've...and...Jim!"

"What is it, Sandburg?"

"They want to come along with us."

Jim shrugged. "Good idea. TJ will be happy to see his parents. Timothy, here's the address. Give us a few minutes lead time, okay?"

Blair stood numb with shock as Jim handed over a card without a word of protest, and then led him out of the house.

They were halfway there before Blair was calm enough to even ask why he let the Martins go with them.

Jim smiled and said nothing.

***********

The oatmeal had been funny...chewy and tasted like nuts. Freddie had cooked it in a pan, not in a bowl in the microwave. But it was okay and the two funny men were very happy he ate it all.

And then they let him talk to his daddy. Daddy was upset...TJ could tell. And he couldn't talk to Mommy. But Uncle Melvin smiled and said that he'd be safe at home very soon.

"What is your daddy like, TJ?"

TJ shrugged. "He's daddy. I think he wants me to play outside more, but everyone is always busy, and there is no one to play with. I'm not good at sports or dancing like they are."

Freddie gave him a big glass of juice. "What are you good at? Do you like music?"

"I like to read. I read fast. The other kids think it's funny, except for Zacky G, and he's busy with his dancing and art stuff. Do you think it's funny to read a lot?"

"Oh, my, *no*. Auntie Freddie and I read all the time. What sort of books do *you* like to read?"

TJ didn't understand why Uncle Melvin said "Auntie" when Freddie was a man, but grownups were funny and these two were funnier. So he ignored it. "I like to read lots of stuff. Stuff about bugs and birds and the stars - science books. And books about real people. And space books, with monsters and dragons and space battles. I like those the best."

"Why? Drink your juice." Freddie sat down across from him.

He shrugged. "They're fun. And I can imagine myself different places all over the universe. When I get big, I'm going to go all sorts of places. My daddy used to drive a truck before he won the lottery, and he went all over the country, and brought very neat stuff back."

"What sort of places do you want to go?" The big man looked actually interested. So TJ described all the places of his dreams to him, and how he wanted to have an RV and how he wanted to go around the Earth and all the fun stuff he wanted to do. And when he was finished, instead of saying something about how "nice" that was, Auntie Freddie went into another room and came back with a *huge* book full of maps, all painted in fancy colors and gold, and showed him how to find all those good places.

***********

The address was a condominium complex just off of Stonewall Street.

Jim flashed his badge at the doorman.

"Cascade PD, sweetheart. Are Miss Melly and Freddie home?"

The doorman blinked. "I should guessed the cops around here would be like *them*. Yeah, they're home. At least, I've seen Forster come and go at least once already."

Jim shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Oh, darlings, you are *sooo*..."

The doorman looked at him askance. "My partner and I are going up. Be a love and don't tell them, kay?"

"Uhh...sure, umm, detective."

Blair just shrugged as he followed his partner to the elevator banks. "You don't seem worried at all, Jim."

"I'd be more worried if TJ was held by Zacky Glass."

Blair let that percolate in his head during the elevator ride and the stroll...yes, stroll...down the hallway.

Jim knocked on the door. "Miss Melly, I know you're there, darling. Let me in."

"Who is it?"

"It's Jimmy Ellison. Who did you *think*? Now let us in, darling or we'll have to do things the ugly way."

Even Blair could hear that sigh. The door was opened, and there was a man about Jim's height, in a double breasted coat and tan pant, and a purple paisley ascot. His hair was combed precisely over his bald spot and his lips were just not a natural red.

"I should have *known* you'd find us, Jimmy. I heard you were out and about again. And that you had the most beautiful boy...oooh, if this is *him*, you are a lucky girl, Jimmy."

"*You* are a *bad* girl, Miss Melly. Can we please come in?"

He sighed. "Of course you may. FredDIE! Oh, FredDIE! Put some coffee up." He ushered them in to an exquisitely decorated apartment, filled with beautiful works of art all arranged *just* so.

"Where's the boy, Mr. Forster?"

"He's just fine, handsome." Forster fluttered his eyes at him.

"Hands off, Miss Melly. What *would* Freddie say?"

"I can *look*. He's down the hall in the guest bedroom. And he's been a *perfect* angel."

Sure enough, there was a seven-year-old boy sitting in the ornate room, looking at what had to be an antique atlas almost as tall as he was.

"TJ?"

The little boy looked up. "Who are you?"

"I'm Blair, and this is Jim. Jim's a cop. We're going to take you home to your parents."

"Are they okay? Mom didn't make too many cakes, did she?"

"Just five or six." Blair grinned.

"I *told* them Mom and Dad would worry. I *told* them."

"Are *you* okay, honey?" Jim sat down on the bed next to him.

"I'm fine. Uncle Melvin and Uncle Freddie have been very nice to me. They got me this cool book to read."

"Did they hurt you at all?"

He shook his head. "They kept asking me if they did. They need the money, they said. And since Daddy won the lottery and all...They felt bad."

"They did?"

TJ nodded. "They kept saying they didn't want to do this and it was a mistake and they needed the money *sooo* bad, and making me nice things. Uncle Melvin even went out to get me ice cream."

"You want to come say good bye to them?"

"Am I going home now?" TJ brightened.

"Yep, guy. Your folks are probably downstairs already. Let's go."

The three of them and the atlas went back to the kitchen. Blair grinned when he thought of all the kitchens he'd been in that day...his own clean but cluttered workstation, the cold suburban splendor of the Lesters and the Thompsons, the chocolate smelling hominess of the Martins, the beauty of the Glass kitchen...and now this one, immaculate and perfectly decorated but definitely used.

Forster was on intercom phone when they got there. "Yes, Tony, send them up now." He hung up. He turned to them. "Angel, your parents are on their way." TJ nodded, grinning.

A large man fussing by an espresso machine turned at those words. There were tears in his eyes that he wiped with a pink apron. "Oh, sweet boy. I'm going to miss you *so* much! Say you'll miss Auntie Freddie, please."

"I'll...miss you. But..."

"I'm sorry...you know we are."

There was a knock on the door. Jim nodded at Blair, who opened it.

"Blair, is Teege...Teege! You're okay!"

The little boy ran straight to his parents. "Mommy! Daddy! I missed you! You're here!"

At this outburst, both Freddie and Melly started to bawl in earnest, and collapsed in each other's arms.

"Be strong, Freddie my love."

"WE must, Melly."

They let go and, bracing themselves, held out their hands. "Take us away, Jimmy. We deserve to be punished."

Blair had a hard time holding in his laughter.

Jim just shook his head. "Girls, girls, girls. First, tell me *why*. I've been *simply* dying to find out since I recognized Miss Melly's voice."

"Yeah, Forster, why'd you take my kid?"

"Well, if Jimmy *isn't* going to drag us off to the hoosegow as we deserve, I suppose we'd better come clean."

"Well...let me read your rights, ladies. We don't want any of this to be illegal, now, do we?"

When all was properly taken care of, Freddie served espresso and homemade biscotti to the adults and milk and Oreos to TJ as they settled around yet another kitchen table.

"Okay, Forster. Why my kid?"

"Quite bluntly, Mr. Martin, we needed the cash. We're about to lose our business."

"Why not a loan, then?"

"This apartment is mortgaged to the hilt, as is the gallery. All our money is gone, and the banks will *not* give us more."

"You run a gallery, Mr. Forster?" Lisa stopped gazing at TJ for a moment.

"Yes, Mrs. Martin. We run the *finest* gallery on Stonewall Street. People *clamor* to have shows there."

"If it's so popular, how come you need money so badly?"

"That's a good question, Miss Melly. When *I* was here, you were certainly pulling a profit. You *bought* the building before I left. What *happened*?"

Freddie and Melly looked at each other. "You *left*, girlfriend. That's what happened. The current crop doesn't give a damn about 'fags'. We've been robbed several times. Our insurance is through the *roof*, and it wasn't exactly *bargain basement* before, and the police don't do a *thing*. And *now* someone is trying to get *protection* out of us. Protection *here*! Did you *ever*!"

Freddie's face was red by the time he finished.

Jim's, on the other hand, was white.

"I have been out again for *six* months. I've been at Purple at *least* once a week. And nobody says *anything*? I *thought*..."

"So did we, Jimmy. But how do we know you're *not* going to ditch that beautiful boy and do the straight thing again? And we *know* how tight cops are."

Jim pursed his lips, and ran a hand through his hair, while the Martins kept looking from him to Blair and back again. Blair shook his head.

"I *will* get to the bottom of this, girls. You can count on this. And Blair and I...I used to be *so* jealous of the two of you, and now I got what you have. I'm *not* tossing that away." He squeezed Blair's hand.

Timothy leaned towards Blair. "You and Ellison are..."

Blair nodded.

"Wow. You fooled *me*."

"Sorry, Timothy."

"It's all right. You got my boy back. Now...Mr. Forster...can we take a look at this gallery of yours? Since you didn't hurt my Teege and he likes you so much?"

"Of course, Mr. Martin..."

"You understand I'm still taking you ladies in?"

The two men nodded.

The gallery was in a lovely space in the middle of the district. Blair found himself captivated by some of the artwork displayed. A lot of it was new and different, and all of it was beautiful in it's own way.

"This stuff is great, you guys. Lookit the lines on that sculpture, Lees...doesn't it just make you feel something?" Timothy was everywhere, touching gently, standing back from a painting, moving close to a sculpture, listening carefully to a set of works designed to be heard...

"This is the most incredible stuff. Hey, isn't that Meer's?" He pointed to a small collection of carved rock.

"*That* belongs to Miriam Glass, Mr. Martin."

"Yeah, I know. She's a neighbor. I didn't know you did regular people, Forster."

Melly smirked. "We do *not* discriminate on the basis of sexual preference."

"Good for you, guy!"

"You have an excellent eye, Mr. Martin. Did you...study this?"

"Nah. Folks had no money, so I drove a truck instead. And all I can do is take things apart and put'em back together, but I like stuff that makes me *think*."

"Indeed?"

"Even before we got that money, Timothy was always bringing home these things that looked like nothing else. Took a some time, but after a while I noticed that there was always *somethin* about'em. Still have some around the house."

Lisa looked at him with pride.

"Mr. Martin...Timothy...tell me about this over here." Forster led him to the corner, where something incomprehensible stood.

Blair couldn't hear a word, but he could see Forster nodding as Timothy gestured and spoke. Then Forster's eyes grew wide as Timothy's stance changed.

The two men walked back to the rest.

"Ellison, you gotta take these guys in, right?"

"Of course, hon."

"Okay...and since kidnapping is a federal offense and all, they're gonna get some jailtime?"

Jim shrugged.

"Well, they're gonna need someone to watch the place while they're away, right?"

"Not if they lose it." Blair hated bringing in more reality.

"Well, that's the thing...I got all this money. And this place could make money if the police did their jobs. And I got nothing but time. Melly here just said he thinks I could do it...and Lees used to do the books for the truck company..."

"Timothy...they *just* kidnapped your *son*. How *could* you *think* of helping them?"

"Cause they're nice guys and it would be a crime to let a place like this close down. What do you think, Lees?"

Lisa looked around. "Yes. I'm bored silly at home and this place...this place has class. Jim, you bring the...the girls in, and we'll get the lawyers working on all of this, right, Timothy?"

"Yep, Lees. Now then...it's time for lunch, isn't it?"

Jim and Blair looked at each other. They'd been fed at all those kitchen tables. "We'll pass, guy. Let's bring two in and let you folks have the rest of your Saturday."

"Melly, Freddie, mind if we stay here for a while?"

"Enjoy yourselves."

"And take care of that *angel*, Mrs. Martin."

"I will, Freddie."

"Come on, ladies. We'll take you in."

"Ooh, handcuffs! You cops are *so* lucky to get your toys for *free*."

Blair just shook his head as he followed them.

****************

"Jim, what the...are you wearing?"

"You don't like blue satin?" Jim pouted, then grinned as he modeled his new pajamas.

"Where did you get them?" Blair shook his head. Of all the things that had changed about his lover, one thing had remained steady - his perfect taste in everything.

"There's shop right next to the gallery...and these just felt so *good*...come, touch."

Blair looked at him...the blue exactly matched his eyes and made them seem to glow. He moved closer and touched them. Oh, yeah...smooth and silky and cool, and they were gliding over Jim's muscles as if...

"Jim..."

"Oh, loverboy...yess..." Blair drew Jim down for a kiss.

"I've been waiting for this all day...." Blair knew he was purring, and didn't care. "We were interrupted, after all..."

He took off his own sweats and slipped down to his knees, gliding down the satin. He gave Jim a grin and then pulled him into his so-hungry mouth. He felt Jim grow inside of him as he moved his tongue around the soft velvet skin.

Jim's hands tangled in his hair and he moaned softly. Blair smiled internally and used his own hands to stimulate the length that escaped his lips until Jim screamed his pleasure.

He swallowed all he could, careful to keep it away from the silk surrounding him. Then he smiled at Jim, who had fallen backwards onto the bed, boneless and happy, and swarmed up his body.

When he got high enough, he took Jim's mouth again. He knew Jim could taste himself, and that thought drove his arousal further, rendering him rock hard with anticipation. He groaned and rubbed himself on the soft material.

"Take it off, Jim." Blair could not speak above a whisper, but he knew Jim would obey. He pulled himself off to watch. Jim unbuttoned the top slowly, stroking his nipples as he removed it. Blair drank in that sight. He loved to watch Jim pleasure himself, and Jim knew it.

Finally, his nipples were fully erect and the top was off, fluttering to the floor unheeded. Then Jim got to work on his satin covered legs, rubbing himself through the material, touching himself directly though the opening. Blair licked his lips, remembering, savoring, the taste.

And then Jim was splendidly naked, all smooth skin and muscles and slowly hardening again at his own touch. Blair stroked his penis as he watched Jim, as Jim watched him.

"Lay down, Jim. Open yourself to me."

Once again, Jim complied with the whispered command, spreading his legs and displaying himself joyfully.

Blair found the condoms and the lube and got himself ready, his hands trembling from need and desire.

He could barely prepare him, stretching him as quickly as he could without pain...never pain, and covering himself with lube. Then...hard, fast, driving, he plunged into his lover with the urgency both felt.

Oh, God, he'd been waiting for this all day, ever since that phone call far too early in the morning. Even that interlude in the breakroom didn't help. But he was here now, and Jim was pushing against him, shouting in pleasure, calling his name to the heavens and he moved faster.

Jim's legs were wrapped around him now and pushing him, making him find the right angle to make Jim gasp in pleasure and it was going to be soon and soon and Blair reached forward and found Jim's arousal again and pumped it hard and Jim exploded and Blair shot inside of him, and then collapsed, exhausted and sated, on top of him.

He wanted to stay there forever, but he could feel Jim's legs trembling around him, so he slowly slipped out and let him relax before cleaning them both up.

Then he slipped back into his lover's arms beneath the covers.

"I love you, Jim, so much."

"Love you, too, Blair...but...next time we go dancing..."

"Please dip me."

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