Mirage by Perry Brass

Author:Perry Brass [Brass, Perry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ancient mysteries, enkidu, gay gay fantasy gay romance gay action gay adventure fantasy mm romance glbt mel keegan, cunieform, science fiction, gay male erotica, gay sex, Fiction, washington, gay gay vampire vampire gay historical gay romance gay mystery gay murder mystery mel keegan, threesomes, space travel, gay romance mm slash humour spanking discipline domsub love, new york, gay urban fantasy, gay scifi, Gay Fiction, gay action, bear sex, ancient writing, gilgamesh, bondage fiction
ISBN: 9781892149091
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

"No Longer In Operation."

This must have helped the word get out instantly, because Holy Resurrection wasn't bothered again for its services. At least those services.

Within another week, other words got out through the neighborhood: two men were living there; they were white; and although there was no furniture in the house to speak of, they were worth looking up.

At various times attractive young men from the neighborhood rang our bell. Did we need any jobs done? At first I said no. The lawn didn't need cutting. The place was clean. But I knew the way they looked at me they weren't referring to those sort of jobs. "You sure, man?" Those smiles could melt my heart, but I didn't ask them in. But I did think about them and their dark lean bodies during the day, when Wright was away.

Immediately, Wright established himself at the Smithsonian as a Visiting Scholar in Oriental Antiquities, Specialty: Assyriology. The process was easy enough: a friendly, obviously gay man in the Dept. of Visiting Scholars, Antiquities Section, checked Wright's résumé (which we had typed the night before). They chatted and dropped names, hairpins, and hints for an hour. He knew even less about Assyria than Wright did, but was sure no one else would find out. Then Wright was given his identification badge, a letter of introduction for the research facilities at the Library of Congress, and—most importantly—an impressive little card that allowed him to eat the cafeteria food at the Smithsonian's cheap but private Dining Commons.

The badge and card were useful. They gave us entrance into back stacks at libraries, the back rooms of museums, and a position on the invitation lists to scores of cocktail parties. At these we floated around with drinks in our hands. The Smithsonian was crawling with gay men, who were all quite civilized and charming. They maneuvered through the trench wars of a great institution the way Lawrence of Arabia got through the rear lines of Turkish defenses.

To my surprise, Wright blended in beautifully at parties just as he did later in the evening at the bars. Eyes normally dove to him. He found himself becoming a magnet, a real talker. I had no idea what the old Wright was like. But I had a hunch that although attractive, Wright hadn't been the social star of the couple. Alan had been the talker. Smooth. Funny. Socially adept. Now we reversed roles. Wright became aggressive, like there had been an injection of hunter's adrenalin into him. Now, I tended to hide in the background. I was happy avoiding people I didn't know; Wright sought them out.

With a drink in his left hand, he'd extend his right: "You look interesting," he'd say, with his infectious smile and that wonderful twinkle in his blue eyes. "Let me introduce myself. Wright Smith. Visiting Scholar. And you?"

I had no real cover to hide behind. I just couldn't look straight into someone's face and say I was a composer. I knew nothing about music.

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