The Catwalk on the Prairie; Opening Night

Sam, Mars and I were sitting around his "other" living room, the one behind the door that looked like it went to a broom closet. Even from the outside, the exact proportions were impossible to see because the geometry of the construction was made to throw your eyes elsewhere. What looked like a large, thick hedge actually covered a painted camouflage wall which was the side of his private home. There was another hedge to draw your eyes to it and where you'd see a set of diving boards, the tallest being the standard ten meter. Ergo there was a pool. And there was, just not there. The whole edifice was one canard after another, almost an Escher drawing made real in architecture. The front door actually opened into a very pleasant, well furnished foyer and living room beyond which was a swimming pool. In fact, it was only a lap pool but the angle of perception gave it the effect of something larger and, of course, peripherally you may have noticed the diving boards. Pool.

Mars and his architect had slaved over the design not only because it was going to physically challenging to built but because it required so many disparate elements that simply did not figure in residential construction; Every upright that was not clearly decorative and few were, had to be able to hold as many as five thousand pounds of dead weight or, with an accompanying beam, hold a water pool ten feet deep, twenty feet long and ten feet wide, essentially a hammock filled with water. Oh, and one that could be sealed. No one had that in their homes and, apart from someone truly quirky, no one would want it. But for Mars and his guests it was perfection, so many things thought of than had never even ben dreamed about. No thought had been spared on any detail, down to the feet on the floor; They could have been the ordinary flared foot or end of a post that almost all things have but many of the feet were cast steel made to look like claws or stakes from which a steel piece of rope drooped...as if something it had recently held had  either made good an escape or had been moved for...other purposes.

It wasn't the day before the night of the opening, it was the morning of the night of the opening and, as calm as I was trying, I wasn't holding it together very well. Curled into Sam, my eyes jumped about, fingers twitched, constantly readjusted myself...Sam was being courtesy profound in  allowing all this, so unusual for me. Mars, in his roll of good, if confused host, thought of diversions...a hour on the rack with three quarter tension, two hours in a leather sleep sack suspended upside down so only cock and/or balls were available for diversion....but great ideas as these were, all I could think of was...the show. Somewhere Heck, Bob, Lannie, the two Dads all the guys were certainly more nervous than I, what did I have to do? Nothing. Show up, be there...and we'd solved that problem.

For months I'd stayed away and out of touch with my family and my lover....Heck. One disastrous day he'd decided to have a fling with our private pilot which, though demonstrating infidelity, might have gone un noticed IF he hadn't sent Will as his substitute working on the dumb theory that if he could fuck, and whatever else, Andy, I could have Will but it backfired in that Heck played too fast and loose with my emotions. For years my cousin and I had been a modeling sensation, covers of everything, chased by the press, molested by fans, running for fear of having our clothes torn for us...finally we found the ranch in the middle of nowhere, were taken in by the twin brothers who owned it, Britt my cousin, took up with Heck's brother, Clem,  and, after a long, long courtship, almost broke some cowboys hearts when they saw it coming through, I fell in love, permanently, forever, no backing out with Heck. It didn't end as well for all; My cousin and his brother finally were introduced to the whipping post Heck kept and then run off the ranch. Well, they were hauled off the ranch and sent somewhere for what Heck would only describe as training. Draw the curtain.

Meantime, I took to buckaroo life and loved it. Of course having a man to lead me into it helped, having a man, a wonderful man to sleep with certainly no distraction plus he had the pleasure of teaching me all about sex, at least the kind of sex he liked and I found I enjoyed.

I stood up and looked out one of Mar's twenty foot high windows, put my hand on it..."no heat at all."

"Nope, those were special rolled, three layers and, one more rolling and light would have had to fight its way in but they serve their purpose, keep in pleasant and shady in here, cool...." in the middle of his sentence his fact turned a mottled color, he gestured at me and Sam to follow him. Wherever we were going we each grabbed a gun that shot large pellets; We knew we were under attack by a drone and it was time to shoot the son of the bitch out of the sky but.....not before Sam mounted a counter attach.  

This was my second since we'd rolled in and, truth to tell, I was sorry there hadn't been more. When you have a home like Mars, curiosity is part of the parcel. If the construction, which included diggin a pit fifty feet deep, hadn't been noticed, the crains moving steel beams and what might or might not have been walls certainly were. Among other things, an underground tank, the sort normally used under a gas station was installed although clearly there were no pumps. Shit like that got the neighbors knickers in a twist as to what was going on, in, around....then when it was all finished, nothing unusual seemed to happen. Occasionally the sound of people swimming, a barbecue, lawn mowing  equipment, nothing to give and hints as to what the hell really went on.

And that's when the first drone came over the twelve foot adobe-over steel-wall. The first time or two, Mars took it pretty well, chose not to believe this might be having a look at his property and, when they fell as they usually do, when a frightened kid, with a slightly less frightened Dad standing back about ten paces came to the front door, it was handed back with the request that more care be taken. Friendly wave to the day, who couldn't decide whether to wave back which left his hand at liberty, two fingers waving and the rest...puzzled. In the end the Dad did a bad piece of broken field running-to hell with his children, they could fend for themselves, and all went away.

Had it ended there, or perhaps with an errant kite crashing to a tree, Mars might have ignored these incursions into his airspace. That is, he ignored them until one day while outside cleaning the pool and the pool boy, something rose up preceded by sounds that were indicative of an iron lung on full save mode and this drone appeared, cameras rolling and on a course to survey the property....Some people shouldn't have toys they don't know how to properly play with; This drone was in the hands of a rank amateur and while attempting a fly over of the pool, Mars and the pool boy, caught an up draft from the air conditioning system and did a header into the pool.

Back inside, and leaving Depth Star One in fifteen feet of chlorinated water, Mars put on some clothes, something he'd worn to an IML group actually, and waited for the knocker-large, forged steel, made in the shape of an elephants genitalia-to let him know someone was there. Possibly wanting something, something of theirs. Odd, or perhaps it wasn't, no visitors, carolers, UPS delivery guy (A close friend who made deliveries when there was nothing to deliver), scouts selling whatever, those holding religious tracts...nope, no one. Mars slid out of the minimal bit of Leather, put on an at home jock and went back to the Sala Torquemada where he'd left the pool boy and finished cleaning him.

We had discussed and to some degree rehearsed this bit of boys only activity. There was no question that what these people wanted was the full Monty, the Schlong and Pffeffernuss, the Cock and Bull Story, that sort of thing. They wanted Mars, and whomever he might be entertaining in what ever fashion, to respond to this bit of looky looky, laugh, point their cocks at it, do the half turn and split their cheeks allowing for an oh-so-deep close up and, whatever ever else. Sam and Mars took the low road and, sneaky me, I took the high road, the spiral staircase that revealed itself when one pushed aside a wall in the "Steel Cage:" room, plenty of room, no waiting. That interior bit of collection of risers led one out behind a chimney onto what, depending on the use to which it would be put, as either a pleasant sunning space or...oops...a grilling stand for those who took their sun greased, stretched then spread eagled and left until it was almost, but not quite, a level one burn. At that point the meat was turned and grilled on the reverse with steel writings placed on various parts which when removed, alerted the viewer to the ultra white against the too, too, cerise red with words like, "rump roast" or "Ready to Fuck". Also, as the melanin in the skin tried to repair itself, those words  stuck...

Today, however, we had a whole new use for this place fifty feet up. In one hand I carried a well made, eighty foot coil of rope all set for steer roping. No steer? Oh, Nice I was somewhat raised on a ranch and could stand stark naked in cow shit and throw out a rope with a 98% accuracy. Heck had been so proud. Today, from an angle impossible to see due to the elegant architecture, I had a great view of all below me, Sam was whipping Mars who was on his knees sucking his dick. Hard to do but with practice...So engrossing was this to the electric panderers they never noticed me start to widen the loop then quietly toss it out scoring a perfect catch and able to quickly pull it taut so it never fell, never damaged itself but...now became our property. Needless to say the Fellatio at the bridge stopped because, well, unless their audience had knot holes in the fence, their show had been cancelled on account of a cowboy....but I'd dealt with livestock before and too often had seen a stray try and break from the herd. And, yep, just like the script, from another angle another drone....apparently unaware of what had just happened. Always take two ropes when you're wrangling, pays dividends. As silent as a vindictive boyfriend creeping to an unguarded window, my second lariat zipped through the air and made another clean catch. Braced myself-I now had two doggies on the line and waited for Sam and Mars to get to where the machines were swinging back and forth held by my rope but not allowed to completely drop due to a roof overhang. 

Leaving uninvited company where it was hanging, we reassembled to have a discussion of...'what next?' Opinions varied, what we had strung up and, in a very real sense, ready for branding and castrating was probably...close to three or four thousand dollars worth of boys toys. No question in anyone's mind this was an intentional invasion of privacy. One thing, they had no clue as to how all this got screwed up; No one noticed a 'nekkid' cowboy on a roof swinging a rope and getting the take down. Twice. Our question was who, if anyone would show up to claim their property.
Sooner than anyone had expected, the door got itself knocked and, looking at the visual system that virtually covered the outdoors, we saw two cops from the Vegas PD, clearly from the bike patrol-their helmets, cavalry style boots, short sleeves and very tanned arms made that clear. I was good at speaking on camera so I pushed the button for communication, told the officers to get in the shade, I'd be up front directly. Used my friendliest pitch voice, the one where we KNEW the product was a stinker but I did all I could.
En route to the front door, I pulled on a polo shirt, a jock, my jeans, socks and boots ending at the door looking like a nice guy opening the front door to see what the trouble was. What the officers saw was a slab of beef with a very familiar face, smiling, encouraging them to get in out of the heat-I vamped that one, it was winter and tell me what's on their mind. What I saw was sort of the down scale version of me; Two more slabs of cop beef, their biceps almost tearing their arm holes about six sizes larger.
I introduced myself, said I was a guest, just there for an opening of a show I had an interest in which opened that evening, if they'd like, I could sure go rustle up the owner.....
"You're.....the guy from the television...all the ads." Without his helmet he revealed a head of deep brown hair close cropped, good looking face that, just then, had forgot why he was there but was in to something a lot more interesting; Me. Counting backward, it was just possible to see him as a fan from yesterday, grown up and with a profession. Happy to see me?
"Hey, I'm Click and this is my partner.....Dane." That didn't sound right. I helped. "I'm Dane, you're Click" I extended my hand to the as yet unnamed officer. "...and you're?"
"Joey, uh no, that is, my mom calls me Joey but I'm Joe. He's Click and I'm Joey." I liked this man, he was so rattled I could see him almost kick himself for the second Joey. They were almost twins, in some sad ways reminded me of Heck and Clem, but not here and not now.
"What's up?" And snickered to myself when I thought about the two drones hanging from the roof line. I watched Click, apparently the leader or the most composed...
"Uh let me look at my book, just a seck.....uh, hey, Joey, this don't make no sense, what've you got?" I wondered what he had as well as I could see both boys being entertained by Sam, Mars and me at a later date. Their muscles were up to it, but were their minds.
"Have you been out today?"
"Uhm umh, just around the house, being nervous about the show tonight..."
"The all guy show?"
"Yep, my business partner, our barber, lot a folks from our ranch and Amarillo are in it...."
"That is supposed to be some fucki...sorry, Sir."
"Don't give it one fucking thought, I live on a ranch with seventy cowboys and six thousand cows. That's not the only word I know and use regularly." Their smiles lit one of Sam's walls. "You wanted to know if I was out of the house...haven't even been off the property since I stopped by to see my Dad and Partner, round about, oh, seven, eight last evening. Home, we cooked out, turned in and..."
"This is just weird shit, makes no sense." I watched both their bodies move into the relaxed state from the cop on semi-brace state. They just got better looking and more desirable. Couldn't decide which one I wanted to work over first or which one would get the hardest watching the other one get double fucked.....After the show this evening, of course. "According to this someone in this residence has or stole or, I don't get this shit at all....seems two jerks were playing with some drones and they say they flew over the fence and just...disappeared. Must have had cameras cuz they say they were, well, the drones were, cruising around the back yard when they lost the picture and control of their drones."
"I think I'd better get our host, my head wrangler is with me for the show, it's his boss that's in it too:". In my mind I hoped and probably knew that Sam and Mars had been listening and getting prepared for their entrance. "Hold on, guys, I'll be right back." Turned and walked away hollering, "Hey, Sam, you mutha, get here and bring Mars, the guys probably need to speak to him." And rounded a corner where I was grabbed by my pair, almost speechless with laughter. They had changed clothes, well, put some on and some clever person, my money was on Mars, had styled this for the occasion. Sam had on his grubby ranch jeans, a plaid shirt with the arms torn off that nicely displayed his tats as well as his enormous bicpet and some boots. Every inch the cowhand and, only if you knew how to read ink, the former con. I could jump that one if I had to. Sam looked like a prosperous business man at home relaxing. Slacks, some suede at home shoes, a silk shirt under a cashmere sweater. He needn't have bothered. Click exploded.
"Well, son of a bitch, Mars, I didn't know this pile was yours, when'd you move out here."
He smiled, went over, shook their hands, normal, gave them a hug and kissed each of them. Not normal but...I could see we were well on the road to getting whatever we wanted and probably...guests for later on. Something in my innards suggested to me that when Click and Joey went home, it was not to mama.
"Sit, tell Daddy what's up".
We all did, the officers looking more comfortable and desirable than a few moments ago, Sam, ever my protector, sat on the arm of chair where I was, his arm casually above me on the top of the chair, Mars flopped out on a couch. Take off the cops uniforms, put them in street clothes and you had the guys having a beer before the poker party started.
"This cocksucker, we've dealt with him on too many other occasions, says he had some drone flying around and he lost it, says you stole it...." They looked disgusted which was when I decided to throw them something they could use, maybe even have fun with when, as they would have to, report back to the "cocksucker".
"Uh.....guys...Mars...uh I may have been less than...uh...candid. Uhm I was up on the sun tan deck working on a surprize for my business partner, the one who's in the show? (To sound true cowboy and Colorado/Texas Oklahoma rancher, you throw an up inflection at the end of each sentence. True Southerners make every sentence a question doing this.) Everyone looked at me.
I was working with a long rope, planned to rope him from the stage when this thing, I guess a drone, came over and wasn't lost, big mother, lenses...anyway I could hear Sam so I thought, well, sheeit, I've got electronic window peepers...had the noose all opened, was already in to the twirl so I just, kindly, dropped in over the drone, pulled it up short, and tied it off. Bet, if we look it...oh, you need to know this..how many did the dick heads say they lost?"
Click held up one finger. I shook my head while raising two fingers. "Got both of them, they're hanging some place....:"
The cops went into I'm on your side mode. "Show me."
We all traipsed out through the kitchen, around the pool then the next corner and, just as predicted, two drones, hanging there. We all stared, looked at each other then looked back.
"Hey, Mars, you got a stick or a rake, anything to reach one of them?"
He was back in ten seconds holding a rake. "Gents, this is now a crime scene. You, all of you, have been spied upon for immoral purposes. Gotta ask...is there anything that this one or that camera could have broadcast that might be of a, uh, personal nature."
Sam, never one to hang back, "I was blowing Mars, but it was just for fun....".
"So that might be something this camera could have picked up?"
"Maybe, probably so, we wasn't hidin' in the bushes, nothin' like that..."
"...and Dane, you were on the roof working an act with your ropes? "
"Yeup, just like I was at home, sitting on a fence post swinging my rope to cut a cow out for dinner..."
Joey pulled out a phone, turned it on, said something into it. Nodded at Click. Clearly we were done there as he headed back inside. "Got the crime scene people coming, it'll be awhile." He looked at Mars, nodded his head toward the pool...:"You mind?"
"Mi Casa e su casa....I'll put some towels out. Want your bikes washed and waxed?" We all laughed at that while the officers started to strip.

"Friends of yours?"
Mars smiled, "Yep, trained 'em myself. They used to hang around a club I kind of own," he winked at Sam, "sorry little puppies, didn't even know how to find each other and, well, you can look at them...before someone took one home leaving the other sad, I tied 'em together, told them to get acquainted, told the to join the Cop Shop, told them to bulk up, told them to that course...Sam? they guy who teaches motorcycle riding, everything from first day to evasion and pursuit...him." Little pressure and, you see the results. Proud and good officers of the Las Vegas PD. And my puppies to whom they are very, very grateful. Do anything for me..."
I think I raised my eyebrows. Nothing wrong, as Sam said, made for each other but then I thought about a long time ago, a pair of twins with Mahogany hair that you couldn't comb....and how one of them.....I ducked my head. Instantly, Sam slid into the chair with me, held me. Looked at Mars..."The guy in the show was his man...a twin, owns the ranch with him. Dumped him for a sky boy and I found him in a jail....I'll explain it all later." He put his arms around me. "He ain't worth it..."
"Yeah but..Sam, I love him, love you to but I'm so fucking faithful, he's the one who made me a cowboy, the ranch, got some peace, I gave him my cherry..."
"Yeup but you're a big strong man paired with another big strong man, ain't all that bad, now is it." Mars broke it.
"Well, I'll say you're both big strong men, would have much you can life frighten me?"
"Nah, we'd just use you to play catch. Dane here don't know how to play Baseball so you could be the ball...balls between the pitcher and the catcher,. we'd switch off."
"Sorry guys, won't happen again. Do I get swats for that? "And smiled at Sam.
His crooked smile came back. :"Don't know about swats but you'll get sumpin sure as shootin' ."

Click and Joey reappeared attractively clad in...nothing. It was, easy, their best look. "Uh, Mars...we got time for, you know, let those two play, look like good meat to us."
"Oh, they're prime plus." He paused to think. "How much time until the crime scene people show up? IF you can delay them, there's no body, nothing to rot, maybe even schedule it for tomorrow? They go for that?"
Joey reached for his phone which would be in his shirt pocket if he had a pocket or was wearing a shirt that had a pocket. "Sorry, I'll go find out."
Happy as a just scratched puppy, Joey reappeared saying that, since this was 'only' a crime scene with no real crime, the guys there could put it off until it was convenient for every one. Click looked even happier. He got down on the floor, put his head and his beautiful eyes in Mars lap. "Can we, Huh, whatever you want us to do....them, too, of course."
"Oh yes, they are in on this one. But I need one from you first."
They put their heads to one side, almost like a puppy waiting to the leash and the walk. "These two guys need to get into the show tonight and never be seen. I want them up high where they can see it all then get away at the end. Think you can arrange that? I'll walk in the front with the paying guests...."
They looked at each other..."Sure, no problem..."
Mars put an edge in his voice that I recognized as that of a benevolent master. "Get it done...now, gives us more play time and more for you to play with. I'm sure neither of you wants to be leashed and made to stay...now would you?" They indicated that would not be a good thing. "What's my word?" Not please or thank you, what is it, together,..."
"Woof!!" That's my good puppies now run and fix it and I'll get ready for you to have a new experience."
I don't know what he promised them but....it made a believer out of me and I didn't even know what it was.
"Hey, guys, wanta strip here or there? Just need you naked." He waited while we slipped out of what few clothes we had on. "Follow me, the pups know where to find us."

It wasn't a big room, twelve by twelve, just big enough to accommodate two substantial tables, almost surgical boards.
"Hop up, both of you face that way and I'll get you set up." We did while Mars opened drawers on each side, got ready for...whatever. We were easily flat on our backs looking up at a dark ceiling that was countersunk with dozens, maybe hundreds of what I assumed were wheat lights if turned on. "Okay, Sam, I'll start with you first. Secure your ankles with these...." And pulled out the largest, heaviest manacle I'd ever seen, one per side. The click they made sounded more like a prison door suddenly shut. I got the same treatment.
"Okay, secure your chests, cuff your wrists, stretch them over this edge and....you're about ready. Here's what will happen. The puppies will be above on their hands and knees until I get established then they'll drop, take your cocks in their mouths, you'll slurp up theirs and...its good old 69 time except, you keep sucking until I call all over. And they're gonna come like rivers cuz I'm gonna have a fist in each ass all the way down play with their P spot like it was a boxing bag. IF they take their mouths from you, say so, that gets them....a reminder not to do that. Guys this is mostly to give you a good sucking and a great feeling. Know your tastes, want some heavier bondage? Dane? Sam? Okay, we'll start here and go from there, after words, convenient that there are two of you and two of them, you will each need to punish them, I'd suggest a whip, don't worry about leaving marks, they expect them and muscles like yours, which are for work not just to be looked at, I'm betting their howling when the first strike catches their ass, will be memorable. Okay? Ready? Here come the hounds."
Click and Joey were wearing basic puppy play outfits, but very little as practically every orifice on their body would have need to be accessed.
"Okay, I've got two new trainers for you and....they're pros so don't try and lay back or...I'll let them deal with you later. Notice the steel cuffs, that's because they are strong and need that resrtrain. Okay, up!." As graceful as gazelles they hopped up and positioned themselves, one cock right above me and another, mine, pointed up, or would be.
Mars turned around holding a syringe in each hand. "Puppies, I want your trainers to be able to go until you beg so..." With that he started a series of small injections where my stalk mated with my abdomen. I didn't need to be told that this was Alprostadil, a liquid form of any of the anti-ED drugs but with much more control as, in the hands of someone who knew their sexual anatomy, a hard erection was guaranteed. After he'd finished, he leaned against a wall, enjoying our pleasure as each cock rose up, stiffened and slightly increased in girth. Felt great, only wished I could get my hands on it...
The lights in the room lowered and, as I'd suspected, the very small lights appeared in the ceiling as well as music that focused on rhythm rather than tune. My first ejaculation was immense, not as large as Sam had got from me but exquisitely satisfying. I wished I could reach out and hold his hand. The edging, because I'd shot so big, was rattling, harsh, making me fight against the restraints, make me sorry I hadn't ask for more, heavier...I wondered if Sam was where I was?
The second time lacked the volume but was more deeply intense, I could feel it coming in my abdomen, wished I had a cock up me, tried not to thrash my head but I was lost in the pain and the pleasure. After the second my body collapsed while still responding to the pressure and the demand for more milk, for more rigidity...my tide was ebbing.

Fisting is an art. Some believe it's a group activity best done with a group of guys, a hammock, men up and ready to have their asses invaded and, for them, that's great. Sam had taught me two things, some activities are more enjoyed publicly and some are more intimate, best shared with a very few people in a quiet surrounding: Mars was clearly of this later persuasion and it worked perfectly. I'd lost my sense of pleasure as it was all pleasure. Click knew how to give a suck job, how to work the corona, how to lick the head.....he knew it all. 

I felt calm hands on my head, locks were clicked, I was released, moved to a seat over which a warm shower flowed. Sam joined me, as knocked out as I was. The water was great, amazingly restorative, we just leaned against each other and closed our eyes. 

Mar's voice. "Okay guys, ready for round two, something very rare for any men. Dane, you and Sam are going to double fuck Click while I double fist Joey." He laughed, "Just now you probably think you couldn't get it up but....leave it to me. The pups are excited about this and, as you can see, they've been bound, gagged, blindfolded, they are on stationary blocks so whatever we do to them they must accept. This is only the second time for them and, if you look, they're dripping with anticipation." He slid a latch on top of the blocks that supported their bodies, forced their cock and balls into it then closed it, sealed it with some sort of goo then with a large, heavy steel cock ring, locked them down. Where they were was where they'd stay. 

Mars, somehow, got Sam and me on the platform behind Click and, just at that moment, that seemed...enough. I didn't know about our fuckee, but this fucker was bushwhacked. I heard a voice..
"Big Stick." That went in my butt and another for Sam. I could almost see Sam standing behind us, grinning, waiting for whatever he shot us up with to take hold and....slowly, gently, almost overwhelmingly, energy came back, more than energy, a rage to be at something, activity....Sam was on the same track.
"Feeling better....?" Jesus he sounded salacious. I was suddenly ready for anything, almost too much energy. Behind us, Sam was quickly binding us to each other. The huge steel manacles, each weighed ten pounds. Our torsos, side by side, attached to a bar which was half a rack now pulling us forward, making us fight the feel, the pain we knew would come....and finally Sam mounted the stand, took our cocks and drained a syringe each into our cocks which momentarily  were harder than our steel manacles.
Sam was a genius at this form of sexual BDSM. Our mammoth chests were secured and pressed down, our balls were attached to another ring which was drawn down with the racking machine at the other end. Now, so hard and in some pain, he guided each of our dicks to the slit in Click's put, inserted them then sealed them with a chain. I hoped Joey was getting the same service and pleasure we were. One last thing, two pads with electrical leads were place at the back of our now buried cocks. A switch was thrown, the lights were further dimmed and we were set up to fuck. Electrical, we were given no choice, the pads on our dicks expanded and contracted forcing us, as a team, to go deeper, fuck harder....just fuck.
Double fucking is a matter of spatial arrangement and an agreement between all participants as to how things will go. Not in this case as Mars had choreographed every thing from insertion to making sure we'd fuck-who can fight a machine."
Who knew what was happening to Joey but his pitiful cries suggested that being double fisted wasn't to his taste. 

And then that part was over. Almost. "Gotta thank you, Gentleman, got it all on video and that's about as hot as it gets. Oh, remember I mentioned you'd have to whips the pups when it was all over but....I thought it over and why shouldn't I whip you. It's something I know you like to do to each other so how much better to feel the hand of a friend, a friend who wants to hurt you...and will
He was using two bull whips, one in each hand so that each lash caught both Sam and me evenly. There weren't many, perhaps a dozen but it was, and I realized it, the absolute perfect way to end this session. Sam, and I were released, helped to a massive tub with swirling water while he went back for Joey and Click. All once afloat, we bobbled like part of us had come unstuffed. Sam, last in, just smiled and said only that we hoped he'd enjoyed our visit to his home and we'd stay on for a few days. All I could think was just now even going to the show seemed a poor idea but, obviously I had to go.
Sam and I leaned against each other, kissed not with too much emotion, but to assure each other we'd survived.

"Are you two going to be up to get us there tonight?" I felt I should lift Click's head by the hair to see if he was living. " No prob...Mars will have all of us up.." He winked. I looked Mars.
"Would an officer of the law lie? Oh yeah, we'll all be there, no trouble, my pleasure and when we get home...I'll bring someone with me whom I know and you each get a cop to train...." Jesus that man had a range of smiles.

Hours later, amazingly refreshed, we were ready to head for town and the dance hall to see the new show. Click and Joey were completely refreshed, had returned them to wherever they lived, gone home and changed. Mars, as an official guest-why I have no idea-could walk in the front door so that left Sam and me. I elected to go casual, as did he, boots, jock, jeans, long sleeve shirt-hoodie for winter and my cowboy hate. Mars had grilled Joey and Click about getting us, and in particular me, in without being noticed. All arranged, he'd talked to some of the guys who were working the show, we were to be at a certain place twenty minutes before show time and they'd get us up and out of the way where we could see and hear everything. Matter of fact, one of Mars, uh, trainees, was in the sound booth so we'd have head sets to listen to everything, could even switch around from the show on the stage to backstage, know what was going on.

Was I calm? No. After the show I'd have to appear and I sincerely hoped there would be enough distraction to make it a quick hello, hugs, and goodbye. My Dad....maybe I'd go by his hotel later but just then and with Sam's support, I could not face Heck and have the conversation we needed to have. 

Mars made a good, simple dinner then handed each of us what amounted to a lunch pail with some sandwiches and a couple of bottles of beer should we feel peckish. And then there was nothing left but to sit the few minutes and wait....
Click came in a way I wasn't aware of-Mars house was a maze of fascination and wonder no matter how well you knew and said, it was time, follow him. Outside were three identical pickups, amazingly dented, bashed in and smashed precisely alike. They were, I was told, on loan from the LVPD, compliments of the Captain, who DID understand the situation. Seems he remembered me and Britt at the Bellagio some years earlier and the chaos there. Happy to do this little favor.
I was in one pickup, Sam in another and two men who vaguely looked like us were in the third. It was a long drive downtown; I wanted Sam beside me, to take my nerves or take me...
After a puzzling drive through down town, we wound up in an alley crammed with trucks clearly there for that night only. A door opened, Sam and I were led into an almost lightless hall way then shown a staircase, of the spiral metal variety, and told to just keep going up. Okay, I can do that. Eventually we ended up on a wide, wooden set of planks, in the middle of which, and about fifty yards from us was the sound booth. Ozzie, Mar's friend was at the door and got us to a pair of chairs on the platform next to the booth. You couldn't have had better seats. See everything and, with the head phones, perfect clarity, so not one word missed. Ozzie apologized but had to get back, they were already sequencing for the preamble and then the overture.
They were comfortable chairs, let you lean back giving us nothing to do but wait.

The lights were gradually going down, the empty stage lost all light and, somewhere in the miles of electrical cabling and speakers sound. A small drum, barely perceptible but growing, joined by a woodwind, no tune just something every martial, the house lights were out, it was quiet, from where were I was I could see the scrim dropped in and, behind it, the set up, simple as it was, for the first act. More music, more compelling then on the stroke of Nine, there was a blast of music, came from every speaker, the scrim became an American Flag slowly waving and the torrent of music rushed by. It was a reworking of Morton Gould's American Salute, or his version of When Johnny Comes Marching Home but hardly the folk song it once was. You could almost hear the churning of steam train wheels, the dynamic rises and falls. It had been reworked, had about two minutes added which I had suggested but didn't know it had been done. The scrim los the flag went to camouflage and, as the music stopped so suddenly, people at the tables almost lurched forward, the stage was lit showing an icon of American art. The very simply boots, rifle and helmet of a dead soldier. At the back a man came on, puzzled, looking barely clad but with a goal. It was Lannie and I knew what he would do...just...how would it be received? Some in the audience must have wondered, based on the publicity, if they were in the right place.
Lannie, on his knees, crawling, reached the small, sad place and put a hand on it. But then his strength showed as he grabbed the rifle, jumped up and began the incredibly difficult rifle spin, so fast through most of it, you couldn't even see the rifle. His face was so fixated, the gun went so high-I'd never seen him throw it almost thirty feet in the air and still make the perfect catch...and on the last throw, it flew back in the set piece it had been in, Lannie's hand still on the stock but he lay on the stage....Lights out.
The audience wasn't exactly sitting on their hands. Roars, cheers, applause, whistles, some Marine HooRah's...If it wasn't the typical opening for a nudey cutey show, it was a helluva an opening plus backed with Gould piece...the show shot on. Next was a much lighter piece, gleaned from an old 20th Century Fox film and originally performed by Ethel Merman and Mitzi Gaynor. In their version, which was slightly burlesque, the song is about whether a sailor is a sailor until a sailor's been tattooed.
Lights up to reveal two guys wearing...almost nothing in a barracks discussing going out to get some ink. In a departure from what would be real, sailors and Marines, the two most inked services were involved until there were eight guys throwing off their clothes challenging whomever to get one there and singing along. The pay off was a guy busting through a door, stark naked but covered with so much ink you couldn't tell.
I could sense that the audience was 'with it' the few who might have been concerned about coming to "this kind of show' if not placated, were relaxing into it.....

.....Two hours later Heck, naked save his gold cowboy boots and hat, was on top of Ram who was beating the air with his hooves. And that was it. Lights out, huge wave of applause, people standing so fast there were noises of things going thud, glass breaking but above all,  the enormous success that started in a barber shop in Amarillo and moved to a Tack Room on a ranch in the middle of nowhere.

Sam had been digging for seven days, wouldn't let anyone help him, took his sleeping bag, had a well dug...and kept digging. It's easy to dig a hole in the ground but less so when there are parameters needed. This wasn't a hole, it was a rectangle ten by ten by ten with one end sloped up to the surface. He looked up and could see the wranglers working on the board walk that would lead to side of the hole, a place for people to stand respectfully and wait. The show was dark the next day so a cargo plane had been chartered and everyone from the show would be there. All the people who should be there...he stopped, looked up at the winter sun, pale, lacking interest in human affairs, not even causing the grass to bend down.
He threw the shovel into the ground, walked up the slope, got in a truck and drove away. He'd be back, they'd all be back, tomorrow.
He was screaming every word he knew, crying and screaming, he could not go back to that house to the man in it...he would stay in the truck and fuck 'em if he was dirty. That's how he was a dirty man.

They all parked at some distance then walked the catwalk until they were standing beside the hole in the ground. Silent, somber, nothing to say. There was the sound of a horse walking slowly and, if they could make themselves look, there was a horse, a black stallion moving slowly toward the slope, down it. Heck held the reins and could almost not bear the next duty. Once before he'd seen Dane over Ram's back, so tired he'd shot crimped bottle caps at him to wake him. Now his naked body, tied to Ram would never respond to Heck or Sam or his Father or all the men whom he'd loved, helped. He was dead. Sam took the body, held it in his arms while Heck led Ram, who didn't seem to want to leave, away

Heck and Sam took the body between them, laid in on the ground then they, too, walked up the slope. All the men on the catwalk shuffled away, down the thousand feet of it to where their trucks and cars were. The hole with Dane was behind them, no one looked back as he could not now look forward.