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Absolute Convergence: Alvarado Court
By John Yager
This is the second of five chapters of a new Absolute
While this story is being added to Cp Collection the existing
Absolute Convergence file, it constitutes an independent, self-contained
narrative. I've given this sequel the subtitle Alvarado Court for
reasons which will become obvious as the story unfolds. While it will be
helpful for readers to know the original Absolute Convergence series,
in which all the principal characters were introduced, this story should
Absolute Convergence made its first appearance
in January, 2002, as a series which eventually ran to a total of eighty
chapters, the last of which was posted in January, 2004. I never anticipated
the series continuing for so long and I am still amazed by the incredible
loyalty of readers who stayed with me from the beginning. I am also
sincerely appreciative for those newer readers who have contacted me from
time to time to say that they've discovered the series and ventured through
the collected chapters.
I'm always glad to receive comments, questions,
criticism and encouragement and hope to continue hearing from you. I try
to answer all messages promptly. If I'm slow at times it's only because
of the pressures of work.
Andrew continues to give me much needed proofing
and editorial help for which I am sincerely grateful.
The author holds exclusive copyright (© 2004)
to this story. It may not be reproduced in any form without the specific
written permission of the author. It is assigned to the Nifty Archive under
the terms of their submission agreement but it may not be copied or archived
on any other site without the written permission of the author.
All the stories I've posted on NIFTY can be found
by looking under my name in the NIFTY Prolific Authors lists. If you'd
like to receive e-mail notification of subsequent postings, previews of
upcoming stories, and other bits and pieces, please let me know by sending
your request to the e-mail address below.
It was eleven o'clock on Saturday
morning, August 10, 1985, and I'd been up most of the previous night. I'd
poured over the file Nita Ball had sent me on the William Desmond Taylor
murder. By 1:00 a.m. I was worn out. It was my second night of reading
and I needed sleep, yet I'd been unable to stop.
It was strange that an event that
had taken place over sixty years before, on February 1, 1922, still held
such fascination. Even the most minor points of the murder investigation
intrigued me. Perhaps it was because the case had never been solved that
I was so caught up in it. I knew it would be the basis of a writing project
and I was more and more convinced that I wanted to use it as the starting
point for a novel.
My partner, William, got home later
that day. I'd managed to get a little sleep but was still so tired that
I could hardly give him a proper welcome.
I picked William up at LAX and insisted
he drive my Porsche back to our house in Pacific Palisades. In my exhausted
state I was dangerous on the highway but I also wanted to tell him about
the files I'd been reading, and began the tale as we made our slow exit
from the busy airport.
"Do the files Nita gave you contain
copies of the police reports?" he asked.
"No, nothing that official. It's
just photocopies of newspaper pieces and some other information on Taylor."
"I'd think if you are as interested
as you say you are, Robert," William said as we stood idling in traffic,
"that you could get copies of official reports. After all these years there
are probably no rules about public disclosure."
"Yes," I agreed. It was typical
of us that William would jump to such an obvious and potentially helpful
suggestion. "There was a lot written about him at the time of the murder,
just in the press reports."
"Well, a look at the official record
might be interesting."
"Oh, yes," I agreed quickly, not
wanting him to think I was minimizing the importance of his suggestion.
"What about other sources?" William
asked as we finally began to move again.
"There are few books that have been
written in the years since the murder. So far as I can tell, they are all
straightforward nonfiction accounts. I think they all deal with the case
and were written from the point of view of one theory of the murder or
another. Everyone who's studied Taylor seems to think they know who killed
"Do the theories stand Cp Collection up?" William
asked as we made a left onto Sepulveda and headed north.
"I've just read excerpts so far,"
I said, "but from what I can tell, a couple of them must be very convincing,
but also completely contradictory."
"So what are you thinking?"
"Well, there has been so much written
about Taylor and the murder, but all of it non-fiction. I'm thinking about
a novel, based on the case, but not using the actual names of the people
involved. What I really want to deal with are the lifestyles of gay and
bisexual men in Hollywood in the 1920s."
"Hasn't that been done?"
"Yes, there are books and even a
couple of film documentaries, but they seem to be little more than exposés.
You know, the 'Who Was and Who Wasn't' sort of thing. I've not found
anything really exploring the way gay men and women were actually living
in Hollywood during that era."
"It sounds like a lot of research,"
William said, giving me a quick sideways glance.
"It will take a bit of digging, but
I can get help. And I don't intend to try to write a factual study. It
will be a novel and if I get some background wrong I can just say 'hey,
"Well, Lover," he smiled as he reached
across to stroke my thigh, "it sounds good to me, and if anyone can do
it justice, it's you."
"Thank you," I said, placing my
hand over his.
We talked about work and the comings
and goings at NSB. William caught me up on developments with the new Starmark
contracts and then described a side chair he'd found for the flat in London.
"How's Peter?" I asked.
"His usual energetic self," William
said. "I didn't see him again after you left but we talked by telephone
yesterday. He and Charlotte were leaving today for a fortnight in Switzerland."
We arrived home a little after four
o'clock. The sky had turned gray with that metallic haze which so often
blows in from the Pacific during LA summers. I carried in William's one
bag and we went on through the house to stand for a moment on the deck,
looking out over the vast sea.
"We might just as well relax and
not leave for Tahoe until tomorrow," he said as he put his arm around my
waist and drew me to him.
"That's what I was thinking," I agreed.
I was worn out and William was a bit jet lagged, even though he managed
to sleep a little on the plane.
We showered together, lovingly lathering
and washing each other's body, then, naked, we went do bed.
When you've lived with a man for
over a decade, when you've loved him and made love with him in almost every
way and in almost every circumstance in which two men can join, an ease,
a contentment, comes into your relationship which is unattainable by any
other means. Time together is the only means by which such union can be
William and I are one; one in spirit,
often one in body, the boundaries between what is him and what is me, dispelled,
dissolved. Like any couple who love deeply, our emotions and our thoughts
seem linked. Our likes and dislikes are so joined that we rarely have to
consider consciously what the other would do, or say, or think in any particular
Often in a restaurant we'd look
over the menu and, when the waiter came, one of us would order. The other
would just smile and say, "the same." Nothing would have been said verbally,
but our likes were one. There was no need to communicate such inclinations.
I woke slowly, a warm, loved feeling
spreading through my body.
Naps were not my usual style, and
long ones were even more unusual. I guess I'd really worn myself out reading
through the file on the Taylor murder. I'd certainly not gotten much sleep
over the previous two nights.
William was looking down at me,
a loving smile on his handsome face. He lay beside me in our big bed and
had propped himself up on one arm. His free hand gently stroked my chest.
I knew without looking that I was erect, fully erect.
"Hello, Lover," he whispered as
I opened my eyes.
"Hello," I whispered back.
We'd been apart for over a week
and we both had needs, urgent needs.
William rolled over onto me, letting
my body take the weight of his. It felt so good to have him with me. I
tingled in anticipation of what we'd soon be doing.
"Yes," I purred, "I want you in
"No sooner said than done," he teased
as the wet head of his cock pressed against my willing hole, then slid
down along my crack, leaving a wet trail of his sap.
He brought his lips to mine and
placed his hands on each side of my head, holding me, as if I might try
to escape. Little chance, I was a willing captive. I opened my lips to
the prodding of his tongue, willing every part of my being to be Cp Collection open,
accessible to him.
With one free hand I stroked his
back as I reached out with the other to fumble in the bed stand for lube.
I couldn't negotiate the drawer from my position, let alone reach into
William sensed my problem and rolled
slightly to his left, pushed my hand away and did what I'd been unable
Our kiss was broken and he rose
up, kneeling between my splayed legs, taking the cap off the tube and squeezing
a dollop of the clear gel onto his finger tips.
I lifted my legs to his shoulders
and moaned as he spread the cool lubricant over and around my ass. One
finger pressed in, setting my nerves ajangle.
"Ah," I groaned. "It's been too
"Seven days, fourteen hours," William
"Did you figure the difference in
time zones?" We'd last fucked in London.
"Yes, when I couldn't sleep on the
"Always my precise lover."
"When it comes to what's important,
yes," he whispered, smiling down at me.
"Important things like planting
your cock in my ass."
"Yes, or yours in mine."
"Do you know how much I love you,
"No more than I love you," he smiled
as he withdrew one finger and gently replaced it with two.
I sighed again as he twisted his
fingers, spreading the lube, gently opening me to him.
"Now, please," I moaned when I felt
my muscles relax.
"You're still tight. Let me work
in three fingers."
"No, I like it when you have to
come in by force."
"I don't want to hurt you."
"You won't, but even if it's a little
uncomfortable at first, I love feeling your cock stretching my ass."
"Okay, Tiger," he smiled, withdrawing
his fingers and moving the head of his dick to my pulsing port.
I moaned again as he gained entry.
"Yes, Will, yes."
He slid in slowly, letting me feel
every precious inch of his manhood.
"Yes," I sighed when he was fully
in me, "yes, yes." I was complete again.
He hovered over Cp Collection me, the weight of
his magnificent body pressing ever so lightly on mine, his eyes fixed on
my eyes, those little telepathic sparks passing between us as my body relaxed,
"Oh, Will," I sighed.
"Yes," he whispered. "I know."
He withdrew a little and then, ever
so gently, pressed in again. I put my arms around his torso and drew him
down, wanting his weight, all of the hard, muscular mass of his body pressing
I lifted my legs, locked them around
his buttocks, imprisoning him, making him a hostage of my love.
"Yes, yes," one of us moaned, maybe
The rhythm began, the slow, easy,
got all night cadence of our love; the steady thrusting, pulling back;
the been there many times, know the way, taking it slow, loving every step,
every mile of the journey from just being ordinary, being two to so unique,
being one; joined, fused, not in any rush; letting nature take its course;
letting the tides come in; sense the planets as they align themselves for
our pleasure; looking forward to that moment down the road, way down the
road, not in any rush to get there; loving the journey, loving every little
step, every pause; loving William, knowing he loves me.
The sky outside our bedroom window
had changed from gray to indigo. The night was clear. The lights of the
whole sweep of the city ran along the coast, sparkling like a million jewels;
no, a billion. It struck me, not for the first time, that the city stirred
the ocean with its pulsing life and was roused by the ocean in return.
The city and the sea, were they lovers, like William and me?
We lay fused in our big bed, our
happy corner of heaven, William in me, my body singing, his eyes telling
me such truths, such ways of love, telling me secrets no words convey,
the ways of lovers who know each other well.
A skeptic could say that what Will
and I experience at such moments is nothing more than a physiological response.
My body, his body, giving pleasure, eliciting predictable response, the
pressure of his cock on my prostate, making sparks. We know all that, but
this is more. It's not just our physical selves which merge. It's a meeting
of souls, the sort of bonding and renewal of bonds which only two people
who are truly in love can share.
My mind went back to others whom
I'd loved. Was it perverted to think of someone else while William and
I made love? I don't think it was. I thought of course of Rick. He was
my first love, we were just kids, still discovering ourselves, discovering
each other. I'd felt that bond with him, the bond of more than bodies,
the coming together of souls.
With William, though, the bond was
deeper, not in kind, but in magnitude. I'd loved Rick with my entire being
and a part of my heart would always be his. But Rick had taken other paths,
ones where I couldn't follow.
Now, after almost thirteen years
with William, he and I shared a richness of love which only time can engender.
We were lovers, but we were also companions and loyal friends.
"Yes," we moaned again. A minute
or an hour had passed and we were one, complete in each other, fused into
such a being, such a whole, something bigger, grander, than we could ever
But there was a secret that we shared.
It was bigger than the two of us. It was impossible to state in simple
words. It was only known in the merging of our bodies, the fusion of our
souls. It could be expressed as an equation, a simple statement of two
halves which make one whole, but the logic couldn't stand the words.
The truth is this; we become one
when our bodies join, but after the years spent together, the oneness doesn't
stop when our bodies part. The oneness survives the separation, spans space,
makes a mockery of time.
Seven days and fourteen hours were
nothing in the mathematics of our love.
I felt our climax building in our
blood, the amalgamated pulsing of our hearts, one rhythm, one pulse. One
atom at a time, our beings Cp Collection are aligned, the ultimate harmony of all we
are, the climax, the beginning and the end.
"Oh, yes, Will, yes."
To be continued.
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