Billy Anders arrived without a notice at my doorstep two nights later. The boy who had once sexually teased the man I loved was no longer a boy. Instead, Bill, as he liked to be called, was a strong looking man with bright white hair, a muscular chest, handsome topaz blue eyes, blond scruff on his chin and cheeks, and sported thick thighs. The quiet boy that I had once known was now a Colt model with as much s*x appeal as a Hollywood actor.
“Just as I remembered you, Tom.”
“You’ve changed,” I said, eyeing him from head to toe.
I welcomed him inside my apartment, noticing the leather portfolio in his right arm. He gave me a hug, a kiss on my cheek, and he asked, “Did you receive my letter and the photograph of Seth?”
“I did. Thank you.”
A drink was necessary; something strong and numbi
