Paul laughed and stood beside him.
"You're cute … Gay … Awfully cute and sweet." He looked at the milk-stained lips … sparkling blue eyes. He put his hand under the chin and kissed away the stains. "Now, come on before I get carried away … I'll show you the rest of the place."
Paul clicked on the lights as they passed a blond, flat-top table surrounded with four padded chairs onto a small but compact kitchen. Then, to a paneled den of books, pipes and leather. Gaylord looked into the brown walled bathroom.
"Paul … it's beautiful." He thought of the dingy hall and wondered about it.
"You haven't seen anything yet. Wait till you see the monstrosity that decorator put in the bedroom."
The monstrosity turned out to be an over-sized bed. It was covered with a white goat skin that touched the floor. Gaylord put his hand to his chest and uttered a sweet cry of amazement. Paul turned on a radio after he had snapped on another soft shaded lamp.
"This is something," Gaylord grinned at him. "May I sit on it?"
"Walk on it, sit on it … lay on it … do anything your little heart desires, Gay … it's all yours …"
Gaylord placed his empty glass on a nearby table and sat on the bed. Then, he lay down on the fur and stretched.
Soft music filled the room; flowed like bare arms embracing; nakedness and young mouths kissing. Gaylord listened, hearing it. Hearing the voices and jazz bands, inter-mixing, from the streets. He remembered the Negroes, bare chested and sweating, working on the lower Mississippi, the same ones he and his parents had passed. He forgot all this as Paul came close …
And now, Paul had lifted his legs onto the softness and was sitting by his side looking down at him. Gaylord stretched his arms over the fur and felt it between his fingers. He looked into the brownish face and with a deep sigh breathed … "Gee … this is wonderful."
Paul bent over him … "Tired?" he asked softly.
"A little."
"Wanta undress and go to bed?" Paul's voice trembled with the whisper.
