PART 2: "It always comes too quickly."

Oh, my love, my darling, I've hungered for your touch a long, lonely time.

And time goes by so slowly and time can do so much.

Are you still mine?

I need your love. I need your love. Godspeed your love to me.

Lonely rivers flow to the sea, to the sea,

to the open arms of the sea.

Lonely rivers sigh, "Wait for me, wait for me.

I'll be coming home, wait for me."

Oh, my love, my darling, I've hungered for your touch a long, lonely time.

Time goes by so slowly and time can do so much.

Are you still mine?

I need your love. I need your love. Godspeed your love to me.

[UNCHAINED MELODY
Words and Music by North and Zaret,
As performed by The Righteous Brothers
Used without permission. No copyright infringement intended.]

Chapter 1

Swirling and whirling around him, the lights pulsed and flashed in time to the pounding music. The disco craze was back! The dance craze that started way back in the early 1970's had survived in one form or another to rise up and completely take over the music industry here in 2105. The best part of the whole thing for Michael Forrest was that he was at the center of it.

In this retro-disco craze, like the original disco craze, the DJ, or disc jockey, was at the center of all the action. He or she was the one who was in charge of the night, leading an entire club down the path of his own choosing. By mixing the right songs and programming the lights just so, the DJ molded the emotions of those who came to dance to the music he created. The DJ formed his own perceptions, and the crowd followed him, surrendered to him, and sometimes let him change their lives. Being a DJ was a dream come true for Michael Forrest, and he was a damn good DJ.

The capacity crowd gyrated in time to the music Michael was spinning. Things didn't change too much. 20th century or 22nd century, the best disco clubs were still the all-male gay discos, and Michael's club, Erasure, was the best of the best.

As the song that was playing got to a certain point, Michael put the headphones to one ear, preparing to mix the next song in, glancing up to gauge the mood of the crowd. They were in a great mood, but how could they not be? Michael was playing the twanging early 1980's sound of The Pet Shop Boys' "West End Girls." The song pulsed around him with the flashing lights and the furiously dancing club patrons.

What Michael did not know, however, is that the DJ carried with him a certain mystique, and some DJs just looked the part better than others, and Michael was perfect in the part. Besides the ease with which he worked the double turntables, the mixer and two sets of headphones, Michael had dark, spiky hair, intense dark blue eyes and a somber face. When in the middle of his work, Michael's eyes were intense, completely focused on whatever he was doing: looking for the next record, watching the lights and dials on the mixing board, checking out the crowd to measure the impact of his music.

Tall and skinny, Michael was dressed in the style of the early 1990's: baggy khakis with a T-shirt and over the T-shirt, an unbuttoned, short-sleeved cotton shirt that swung around him when he moved.

Together with the clothes, his intense expression and complete focus on the music, Michael had to be the center of attention. Although many of the men in the disco would have deemed him a very attractive young man, even without the music.

Quickly switching records, Michael moved from "West End Girls" to the 1970's mega-hit "You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real)" by Sylvester.

As the husky, dulcet tones of the large, black transvestite wailed through the club's giant sound system, Michael threw back his head and laughed out loud. His intense focus lifted and his somber face was unexpectedly transformed. His sudden, wide smile was carefree as his eyes lit up, his expression filling with joy and childlike wonder. The flashing, colored lights alternately illuminated his joyful face then threw it into shadow, and the whole time, he was dancing behind his tables, moving with the music, shaking his head and his hips, swinging his arms above his head in time to the "Make me feel--mighty real. Make me feel--mighty real. You make me feel--mighty real."

Michael was not the only one getting into the music. Shirts were flying off left and right as the dance floor filled with sweaty, half-naked men. There was an exception, however.

Coming toward him, there was one man who seemed unaffected by the music, who seemed to have eyes only for the DJ. As Michael watched the tall, blond man make his way across the floor, he wondered if tonight this would be the night Robert Brown finally made his move.

Robert was a friend of Michael's. They had known each other for years and traveled in the same circle, but lately, Michael was beginning to realize that Robert was feeling more for Michael than friendship. Michael was not sure how he felt, but Robert was such an interesting person, Michael wouldn't mind pursuing something with him.

A real estate broker, Robert was tall, 6'3", with clear blue eyes and smooth skin that had a rosy glow, giving him a youthful look. He smiled a lot, emphasizing his cupid's bow lips. He was dressed all in black, again--black boots, black jeans and a black button-down shirt with the collar up in the traditional mid-1980's style. The most arresting thing about Robert was his wavy, shining blond hair. It glinted under the strobing lights, catching all the colors in its shimmering depths as the lights flashed red, yellow, blue, green.

No, Michael wouldn't mind pursing something at all. He was vain enough to know that as two tall men, he and Robert would be quite a handsome couple. With Michael's skinny, dark, tousled look and Robert's hip, robust, and handsome look, they would certainly cut a fine figure.

For some weeks now, Robert had taken to showing up at Erasurealmost every night that Michael worked, and he watched Michael constantly. Whenever Michael looked up from the tables, there was Robert, glowing in the lights, staring at him.

And here he was again, tonight, at the wall of the DJ booth, his easy smile shining all over his face and through his eyes. Michael smiled back.

Robert beckoned to Michael.

"I'd like to make a request," Robert shouted into Michael's ear.

Michael nodded.

"'I Feel Love.'"

Michael pulled back and their eyes met for a long moment. Then Michael grinned. "Sure." Oh, yeah. Robert was definitely going to make his move tonight.

When the hugely popular "I Feel Love" by Donna Summer blared out of the speakers, the crowd roared and thronged onto the dance floor. "Ohhhh, it's so good, it's so good, it's sooo good. Ohhhh, I'm in love, I'm in love, I'm in love, I'm in love. Ohhhh, I feel love, I feel love, I feel love, Oh, yeah, I feel love," Donna sang, and Michael smiled out over the dancing hoardes. He was in charge here, and he watched Robert, dancing alone, only to him.

Michael dove into the crates to find a record to mix into "I Feel Love." As he stood, he was surprised to find that there was someone else where Robert had stood, looking at him over the short wall of the DJ booth. Michael had never seen him before and couldn't imagine where he had come from. Almost as tall as Robert, the stranger was slender with short-cropped dark hair, prominent cheekbones and a large, stately Roman nose. Staring into the hard hazel eyes of the man with the pale, sharp-featured face, Michael felt the music recede. He felt as if his ears were suddenly stuffed with cotton and that no matter how loud the music was, there was no way it was going to reach his consciousness. He felt lightheaded and his ears buzzed. It was as if the world, his world, had moved aside, leaving him alone in a vacuum, and the only thing he was aware of was the man in front of him. Along with the music, all the other men he had known receded as well, leaving only this one. Within a heartbeat, this man had taken the place of every other man in his life. With no effort, he made the handsome, robust Robert pale to a flickering, insubstantial shadow. Michael's world was gone. Only the man was left.

The pale slender man with the sharp features beckoned to him. Filled with a growing sense of unreality, Michael leaned his dark head down.

"Play a long one," the stranger yelled into his ear, surprising Michael with a foreign accent he couldn't place. "I'd like to dance with you."

Michael pulled back a bit and stared at the man, leveling his intense gaze at him. Dark blue eyes stared into hazel, trying to fathom what, if anything, was behind the request. Michael knew that he should just shake his head with a gentle laugh and give his usual answer: "Thanks, but I gotta work." DJs made the magic, they didn't participate in it.

The stranger just waited, eyes wide, lips slightly parted. It was a clear invitation and Michael found he couldn't say no. The man compelled acceptance. He wanted to dance with the DJ, so he would dance with the DJ. Besides, Michael wanted to, so he nodded.

The hazel eyes lit with joyous surprise, and for some bizarre reason, the delight in those eyes melted Michael's heart.

Michael went into a crate and pulled a 12-inch single out. Putting a headphone to his ear, Michael replaced the record that was already waiting on the turntable and mixed the new song into "I Feel Love."

It was a favorite of Michael's, one he rarely played and one he hadn't danced to in years. It was "MacArthur Park," also by Donna Summer. It was slower than a lot of dance tunes, and it was long. A slow smile wreathed the stranger's face as he nodded. Michael left the booth and went to the man, their eyes locked together. A buzz of conversation was heard under the music as the patrons realized that a highly unusual occurrence was taking place--the DJ was dancing! Let 'em gossip, was Michael's only thought. I have to find out who this man is.

Of their own volition, their hands reached out to each other and their arms intertwined. As the man came into his arms, Michael saw Robert over the stranger's shoulder. The blond had such a sad look on his face it almost stopped Michael. Then the words started and Michael forgot all about the sorrow on Robert's face. As the man held him in a gently firm embrace, Michael closed his eyes and started to sing.

"Michael. Yours?"

"Jesse."

Michael pulled back a bit and looked at him. "Great name."

Jesse smiled. Donna started singing again, so the man pulled Michael close again. "Sing some more," he murmured in Michael's ear.

They separated as the next part of the song came on. Michael didn't sing this part, but he held Jesse close and, even though this part was faster, they danced slowly, very slowly.

"I know. When do you get off?"

Michael pulled back to look at him, feeling so many emotions, all of them conflicting. He wanted this man but he was afraid. He'd never been so quickly and so easily affected by a man before and his better judgment told him to run screaming into the night away from him. So Michael shook his head, smiled, and said, "Why don't we just leave it as it is, eh?"

"Sure," Jesse said, lightly. "Are you working tomorrow night?"

Michael paused a moment, then nodded.

Jesse smiled and pulled him close to finish the dance.

As he danced behind the tables, Michael knew that Jesse was watching him, but Michael was used to being watched, so he tried to ignore it. No matter how much he danced, however, swinging his arms above his head as he danced, his eyes closed, head back, he couldn't forget the kiss they had shared. It was all he could think about. As he set up a new record for the mix, Michael wondered if he would ever see Jesse again.

Michael watched the slender stranger named Jesse make his way across the club, beer in hand. He was avoiding the dancers, skirting the dance floor on his way over to the booth. Michael took a long pull from his water bottle as he watched. Several men tried to stop the mysterious stranger as he made his way through, but Jesse would have none of it. Michael swallowed convulsively. This man wanted him, and was not going to let anyone get in his way. Michael was not sure how he felt about that, except he knew that when Jesse kissed him, he had felt it down to his toes. It had been incredible and he couldn't wait--hold on here, what the heck was he thinking? He knew nothing about this guy. Time to slow things down.

Picking up his headphones, he got the next record to the spot where he could mix it into the song that was playing. A glance at the crowd told him that they were getting bored with the Latin music he had been playing for the last 30 minutes or so. Time to get back to the oldies.

His brief glance also told him that Robert was here again. Robert had not said anything else to him the night before, and he wondered what would have happened if Jesse had not shown up when he had.

Michael still didn't know why he said yes to Jesse. DJs just didn't dance with anyone. They were the gods, the great manipulators of the dance floor and didn't step down to take part in the magic.

This stranger, though, was different somehow. When he looked up over the partition at Michael, there was something about his eyes, the way the flashing lights picked up the gold and green flecks in them, and the obvious invitation in them. He couldn't say no to those eyes, or their invitation.

Michael didn't know what to think about Robert not getting his opportunity to make a play for him. It certainly was a great ego boost to have two men after him, but although Robert seemed like a nice guy--and cute!--this Jesse fellow was magnetic and attractive in a way Michael could not explain.

Jesse finally got to the booth. Michael was quite busy with the music, but the stranger didn't say anything to him. He simply turned his back and lounged against the booth. He looked comfortable, but Michael had the oddest feeling that Jesse was guarding the booth and that no one was going to get past him. From the mirrors that lined the club, Michael could see Jesse. His face was expressionless, but somehow he had a forbidding aura that shouted, "Don't even try it!" Michael sighed as he turned to his crate of 12-inch singles. He'll deal with this after work.

The song Michael played next was Erasure's "A Little Respect." At the first few bars, Jesse turned and looked up at him and lifted his beer bottle in salute to the song. Michael smiled at him, but a look at the crowd told him that Jesse was one of the few people in the club who were enjoying the pulsing techno sound of the two-man group that was so popular in the late 1980's. He looked back at Jesse who was also scanning the crowd. Their eyes met briefly and Jesse shrugged and smiled. That sudden smile stopped Michael's heart. It completely wreathed that sharp-featured face, softening it, suddenly making Jesse seem eminently approachable.

Michael's heart started beating again and he turned back to the tables with a deep breath. He had no idea what, if anything, was going to happen with this man, but he knew that if anything did, it would not be boring or ordinary.

Michael moved on to songs that the majority of the club patrons would enjoy, and the crowd was pleased until closing time.

After Michael finished his set and the bright lights of the club came on, chasing the patrons out the doors and allowing the cleaning crew to start their work, Jesse approached Michael.

"You need help getting your stuff together?"

Michael gave him an odd look. "This is not my stuff. It belongs to the club."

Jesse shook his head. "That's right, I forgot. There's no way you could own this stuff. It's way too expensive."

"Nobody could ever afford this stuff, especially those vinyl records. Most of them don't exist anymore, they had to be recreated."

"There was a time, long ago, when DJs had all their own stuff," Jesse told him. "They had their own tables, mixing board and, most important, records. Clubs sometimes had the equipment, but a DJ always had his own music. Any DJ worth his salt, that is."

"Well, you must be a lot older than you look, because I don't remember a time like that."

"I don't really remember that," Jesse replied quickly. "I read it somewhere. I've just started going to these clubs, so I don't really know."

"Well," Michael said, "now you judge a club by whether it's got good music, and if it's got enough vinyl to spin. You judge the DJ by how well he can mix the music and handle the equipment."

"Well, at least that hasn't changed. Listen, you hungry?" Jesse asked, hooking his long raincoat over his shoulder. "How about a bite?"

Michael thought a coat, even a raincoat, on such a warm night was odd, but it took all kinds. He looked around the club. Sure enough, Robert was waiting for him by the door looking quite determined. He looked back at Jesse, who was waiting calmly, but there seemed to be a watchful look in his eye.

"There's a friend waiting for me," Michael said, pointing Robert out. "Can he come?"

"Sure," Jesse answered without hesitation. "If he wants to."

Jesse and Michael regarded each other steadily for a moment, thinking about what was unspoken. Michael did not miss the hard edge in Jesse's voice, but he also couldn't ignore Robert, a friend who had been around a while.

The two men walked over to the door. Robert watched them, and the closer they got, the more obvious was the defeat in Robert's eyes.

"Hey, Robert!"

"Hey, Michael," he answered quietly.

"Robert, I'd like you to meet Jesse--Jesse--" Michael turned to Jesse with a question in his eyes.

"Jesse Williams," Jesse supplied.

"Jesse Williams, meet Robert Brown."

"Nice to meet you, Jesse." Robert put a hand out. Jesse's hesitation before taking Robert's hand was so brief, Michael was not sure he'd even seen it.

"The pleasure is mine," Jesse responded.

Robert's head tilted to the side. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"No."

Michael and Robert waited for more, but when nothing seemed forthcoming, Michael turned back to Robert.

"We're going out for a bite, Robert. Wanna join us?"

Robert's answer came quickly. "No, thanks, Michael. I don't think I should."

"Oh, come on. It'll be fun."

Robert shook his head with a slight smile. "You go ahead. Maybe some other time."

Now it was Michael who hesitated. "You sure?" he asked, leaning toward Robert, trying to see into Robert's thoughts.

Robert stared into Michael's dark blue eyes and almost changed his mind, but instead said. "I'm sure. I'll see you around." Then he turned and left the club.

"Don't you think that was odd?" Michael asked, watching Robert walk away. "He's wanted to ask me out for a while."

"He was too late, Michael," Jesse said, also watching Robert leave, "and he knew it. You can't fault a man for knowing when to quit."

Michael looked at Jesse and their eyes met. Michael forgot about Robert, he forgot about the bright tawdry club that they were still standing in, he forgot everything except for the man in front of him.

"Where do you suggest we go?" Jesse asked quietly.

"My place," Michael answered slowly.

Jesse's raised eyebrow brought Michael crashing back to the reality of what he had just said.

"I mean! I mean my favorite place!"

Jesse grinned, highly amused at the slip and the clumsy save. He stored it away for a later time, saying only, "Fine, let's go to your favorite place."

Over the breakfast that they both ordered, Michael got to ask Jesse about himself. It turned out that Jesse Williams was a researcher for a large book publisher. He traveled a lot for business and could be in a city from as little as a few days to several months when he was investigating something for his publisher. He had recently arrived in Pittsburgh and was slated to be there for a while, maybe a year or two. He was in a hotel right now, but was looking for a boarding house or a small rental while he was here.

Jesse seemed impressed when he learned that Michael Forrest made his living as a DJ. "Isn't it difficult to line up the gigs to make enough money to live on?"

"It was, in the beginning, but I've been doing this for more than four years now, and I'm pretty good at it--"

"Well, that I could vouch for."

"Thank you. I love it. Sometimes I think I was born for it. I'm just grateful it came back when it did and I have the opportunity to make my living with it."

Jesse asked about Pittsburgh and Michael offered to help him look for a place to stay. Except for learning about the backgrounds of each other, this was the only thing of import that they said through the entire meal. They spent most of the time hemming and hawing and dancing around the fact that they were not where either of them wanted to be. They both wanted to be in Michael's place, not in his favorite eating-place.

So it was a quick meal, and they ended up in Michael's place after all.

It was a comfy place, and it looked like it would be bright in the day, since there were so many windows. There was only the one bedroom, but it had a large living room and a good-sized kitchen.

Michael watched Jesse hang his coat on a hook near the door then gestured to the couch.

"Wine?"

"That'll be fine, thanks."

Jesse made himself comfortable at one end of the couch until Michael came back with the wine. The DJ handed a glass to Jesse and sat down next to him. They were quiet a long moment, sipping the wine. They had talked quite a bit at breakfast and there didn't seem to be anything to say. Michael sipped quickly at his wine, suddenly very nervous and not quite sure why. It was not a new situation for him, but this man was so different. There seemed to be so much to him that it intimidated Michael and he found that he could barely look at the quiet, slender man next to him.

Michael was sitting forward on the couch, elbows on his knees, as he took another sip of wine. He was staring at the wall, at the floor between his feet, at his glass, trying to come up with something to say when felt a touch on his arm. He turned toward Jesse and was met with an incredibly gentle expression on Jesse's sharp-planed face. The expression was so gentle that Michael suddenly couldn't understand why he was so nervous.

Jesse reached out and took Michael's glass from him, then cupped Michael's face in his hand. Michael closed his eyes against the onrushing emotions, which turned to a cascading roar in his ears when he felt Jesse's lips on his. He opened his eyes as Jesse broke the gentle kiss. They looked at each other, only inches away. Jesse's eyes were no longer hazel. They had darkened somehow to another, indefinable color. They stared intensely at each other for another moment, then Jesse kissed him again. This time it was deep and full and passionate. Michael moaned against Jesse's mouth and wrapped his arms around the slender man. Jesse moved very close to Michael, leaning Michael back until he was lying on the couch and he was on top of the DJ, still kissing him. Michael's mind whirled with sensations as Jesse let a hand loose under his T-shirt and ran it up and over Michael's skinny chest.

"Yes," Michael whispered. "Oh, yes!"

Michael screwed his eyes tightly shut as Jesse's hands found his nipples. He gasped, his back arching under the waves of pleasure. It was almost unbearable! He wanted to get his own hands on this man who was so easily manipulating him.

Holding Jesse tightly, Michael suddenly whipped him around until Jesse was on the couch and Michael was on top of him. He raised himself up on his hands and was delighted to see the surprise in Jesse's darkened eyes. People often thought that Michael being so skinny meant that he wasn't very strong. They were always surprised to find out just how wrong they were, delightfully surprised in Jesse's case.

Michael leaned back down to kiss Jesse again, pressing his body all along that of Jesse's. He took liberties with Jesse, running his own hands over Jesse's chest. The man had a smooth, hairless chest, well-sculpted and firm under his grasping fingers. He ran his hands down Jesse's side, over the rippling abdominal muscles to the lean waist. He could feel just how aroused Jesse was, and he was sure Jesse could feel him as well. He suddenly tried to get up but he didn't get very far because Jesse was holding onto him.

"Where are you going?" Jesse asked hoarsely.

"This couch isn't working. We've gotta have more room. Come on."

He tugged at Jesse, who didn't respond; he just followed Michael off the couch and into the bedroom.

Just inside the bedroom, Michael stopped to put some music on. There was no vinyl here, no great surprise. Michael looked at the disc he was holding between his thumb and forefinger.

"Perfect," he murmured.

"What is it?" Jesse asked, coming up behind Michael. Wrapping his arms around Michael's waist, he started nibbling on the back of his neck.

Michael's head went back and his eyes closed. "Wait--wait," he whispered. Then he put the disc in the player, and turning in Jesse's arms, he kissed him again as they moved toward the bed.

When the music started coming from the speakers, Jesse stopped and stared at Michael with amazement. "How the hell do you even know about this group, let alone able to find their music?"

Michael grinned, Jesse's eyes melting at the sight. Michael was delighted at Jesse's reaction. It seemed that he had found a musical soulmate.

"Hold on, I'll set it up to play a couple of times."

"Three or four," Jesse suggested.

Michael grinned again and set up the player to play the song four times. He had barely turned back to Jesse when he felt the other man's hands on him, pushing his shirt back off his shoulders and pulling the T-shirt over his head. He finally allowed his own hands free rein over Jesse's body, moving his hands under Jesse's shirt, feeling the muscles rippling over the slender body. He pulled Jesse's shirt off and the two men came together, bare chest to bare chest, as the music flowed over them, a haunting rhythm that pulsed and pounded, that drew them closer to the bed and to each other. They pulled off the remainder of each other's clothes before tumbling into bed. They found each other's mouths again and immediately were intertwined. They made love as the hunting melody of Duran Duran's "Save a Prayer 'Til the Morning After" played over and over and over again.

Michael awoke to sunlight streaming through the blinds on the bedroom window. He looked at the man next to him and it all came flooding back: the club, breakfast, and incredibly intense lovemaking as "Save a prayer" played over and over.

Suddenly, Jesse's eyes opened and met Michael's. Jesse's eyes were hazel again, but still very much unreadable.

"Who the hell are you?" Michael whispered to the strange man.

Jesse reached up and gently stroked Michael's cheek, his face growing somber. "I'm your worst nightmare," he said in a voice so deep it chased shivers down Michael's back.

Michael could only shake his head. "Huh! You sure are."

Jesse smiled. It wreathed his face and lit up his eyes. "And you," he replied softly, "are an amazing man."

Running his fingers into Michael's spiky hair, he pulled the DJ down for a kiss. Michael was lost in the kiss, as he had been so many times last night. Jesse's kisses had a way of reaching deep into him to places where nobody had ever managed to reach before.

I'd best be careful, Michael thought to himself. I can't afford to fall in love with this man. It's way too dangerous. But the thought was vague and unfocused, and only seconds later, he stopped thinking entirely.