Wild Passions

by A Storm Moon Press Anthology

  Daddy Frank put both hands on the dash, like I'd seen him do a thousand times. Now I knew why. He sat quietly, almost as if listening.

  "You love Joseph, don't you, Daddy Frank?" I asked very soft. "Like you love Mama. Like I love Gordon."

  He nodded but didn't turn his face to me. "Yes, and I'm still trying to keep him alive."

  "Does Mama know?" That was the one question I wasn't sure I wanted to know the answer to.

  "She does," he said softly, "and I try to not rub it in her face. She gets along with him most of the time. Sometimes they quarrel."

  "That's when Joseph won't run, and you have to get someone else to work on him," I guessed.

  Daddy Frank laughed. "Exactly so. He particularly objects to her changing the oil. Says it isn't suitable for a woman to do." The truck sputtered as if in agreement.

  "Maybe it's time she taught me how so I can do it." I gave Gordon a quick squeeze.

  "You'll need a vardo of your own, I think," Daddy Frank said. "Joseph and I can help you build it." He stiffened and looked down the road. "Drive faster. Joseph says he can take it and the road is good." I moved up to seventy miles an hour, nearly flying low. "Gordon's getting sick. He's going to be very sick for a while. I watched the men after the war come off the opium."

  "You watched?"

  "I lost my sight in one of the experiments, after the war. I was testing a new night scope for a machine gun. It gave tremendous range, I could see for miles. And that was the last thing I saw. I woke up in the experimental medical unit with the same doctor that had saved Joseph whispering that the others said I would never see but he would make sure I did."

  "And he would show them all, the fools!" I let out with a wild laugh, such as I imagined a crazed scientist would give.

  Georgia rolled away, with Daddy Frank telling me stories about the war that he deemed suitable. I told him of my dreams, of working with Gordon and traveling with the shows. "I don't want to leave you and Mama, though. I know you need me."

  "Nothing says you have to, son." He turned his face to me and laid a gentle hand on Gordon's forehead. "Have you considered he might not want to stay with you after he's well? He won't want to think about the past, and he may feel too dirty from it to be with you."

  "He loves me, Daddy Frank. We talked about it while you got directions."

  "Good boys."

  The short December day got old and faded into darkness. I was getting hungry and a little tired, but knew we needed to keep driving. Daddy Frank guessed we had about another day before Gordon really got sick from the medicine. His smell was getting sicker and his sleep was more disturbed as night fell. I turned on the headlights.

  "Pull over here." Daddy Frank pointed to a roadhouse up ahead. I parked Joseph in the back of the lot, away from the other cars, his headlights pointed at the building. "I'm hungry and you have to be, too. I know this place. You boys take a leak if you need one. I'll be back with food in a few minutes."

  I stirred Gordon from his sleep. He stretched and yawned, and kissed me before he opened his eyes. "Hello, handsome," he purred.

  Daddy Frank hopped down, smiling. "Do you take onions on your burger, Gordon?"

  "Yes, please, and extra mustard." He nestled up under my chin.

  "Back soon." Daddy Frank headed across the lot, tapping only a little with his cane. Joseph must be guiding him, which I had planned.

  I helped Gordon out, trying not to worry about how unsteady he was on his feet. My own shoulders ached from holding the wheel all day. I was going to drive on if I could, though. We had to get home, back to Mama.

  We beat our way through knee-high weeds that smelled strongly of urine, making our way to the backhouse behind the roadhouse. It was a dank, smelly place, but cleaner than I expected. The crowd apparently seldom made it this far in their quest for relief.

  Gordon managed alone, though I stood close ready if he needed help. I didn't like the way he wobbled. After my turn, I found a spigot out back, and we washed fast before getting back in the truck. I stretched well before I got back in. Daddy Frank came out of the roadhouse carrying a couple of bags that smelled wonderful even at this distance.

  The smell of hamburgers filled the truck. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had fresh burgers. Even Gordon perked up at the smell of his extra mustard and onions. We ate quietly, the food hitting the spot beautifully. I balled up the waxed paper and threw all the trash away.

  "We're going to press on," I said.

  Daddy Frank nodded and popped the bottle-cap on a coke. "You'll need this, then. I bought a whole carton."

  I took the cola and drank it, hating the way the fizz got in my nose and made me want to sneeze. It was too sweet and thick-tasting. I handed back the empty glass bottle and started the truck.

  "Ready, Joseph?" I asked, patting the wheel. "Take us home to Mama."

  We rolled through the night, the cola keeping me awake as Gordon slept again, smelling of onions and mustard and the sickness that was growing stronger. Daddy Frank dozed against the window. I crossed the line into Florida as the sun started coming up. I needed to pee, and I needed more cola or some coffee. I caught myself yawning hugely, and the truck sputtered as if sensing my tiredness.

  I pulled over at a general store and slipped out back to their facilities before the town could wake up. I came back to find Daddy Frank and Gordon stretching awake.

  "Daddy, if I'm driving more, I need food and another cola."

  "Son, don't push yourself. It's still about a hundred miles home."

  I held my tongue, knowing he couldn't smell the sickness that was settling in even deeper. I might make it the hundred miles before Gordon went completely bad, if we left now. "I'll get us there. And Joseph's thirsty, too." I smiled at how quickly I'd taken to the idea that the truck was someone.

  Daddy Frank nodded. "I'll buy some gasoline and breakfast. You boys sit tight. Gordon, you still all right, son?"

  "I'm feeling really sick. I don't want any breakfast, please." He wiped away a fine sheen of sweat that had collected in his fur.

  "Will you make it home or should I see about finding a campsite?"

  Gordon looked up and down the road, as if afraid of being found. "Home, please, sir. I want to go home."

  I held him close, nuzzling him, while Daddy took care of things. He held onto me like I was the last real thing in the world.

  "I've never had a home," he whispered. "I was in the lab's pen, and then I was with the hoochie palace. Then I was sold around. I want a home."

  "You have one." I squeezed him gently. "Right here. I'm home. We're married, remember? Old Matt and the wheel that one summer. You kissed me clear around the wheel."

  He nodded. "It seemed like just kids fooling around. But I remembered it. I held onto it, hoping someone would love me again, like you did."

  "Do, not did. I never stopped."

  He rested his head under my chin as he loved to do. "I know that now. Arthur, I can feel this coming. It's going to be awful, isn't it? I love you. No matter what, I love you."

  I kissed him, tasting the sick flavor all in his mouth. I didn't care. I had my Gordon, and he loved me. I held him and kissed him, there on the dawn-pink street, our breath clouding the windshield of the truck, until Daddy Frank came back.

  The store man filled the truck, and Daddy Frank handed in a basket of food. "That's the end of the money. Think we can get home on that?" The man stared at us. Guess he didn't see many constructs out here in little old Jasper.

  "I think so." I popped the cap on another cola. It tasted better than the last two and washed the sick taste out of my mouth.

  The road home was a long nightmare. A hundred, two hundred endless miles of my eyeballs afire with the need for sleep, my body aching, drowsiness staved off by bits of food stuffed in my mouth as I drove. And Gordon, always Gordon beside me, getting sicker and sicker. He cuddled one moment and snarled at me the next. He watched the mirrors
obsessively, terrified we were being followed, although we had left no one alive to do so.

  I pushed Joseph past the usual forty, up to fifty and even sixty. He rode like a dream, never slowing or balking at a turn. We could get used to each other, I decided.

  The winter camp came into sight in late mid-morning. Sarah's trim little house, cream with navy blue shutters and windowboxes, was one of the prettiest sights I'd ever seen. But even better was our own yellow cottage, with its bright green door a mile down the lane.

  "We'll build you boys a bedroom this winter," Daddy Frank promised as I helped Gordon out of the truck. "Leave him here and go get your mama."

  I hesitated, torn between seeing Mama, and not wanting to leave Gordon. Gordon broke free of my arms and ran for the nearby woods, one paw clamped over his mouth, the other shoving at his pants. I followed and listened and smelled. We had made it just in time. The sickness swallowed him whole.

  It swallowed him and then chewed us up and spat us out for the next week. We moved into the vardo after I stripped it of everything that couldn't be easily washed. He slept a lot, emptied himself out both ends and shook with pain. I fed him aspirin and water, trying to help him. The best I could do was help him stay warm and clean. He cried and howled, and on the fourth night he begged for more opium, for me to kill him if I couldn't get the drug. I paused with my teeth near his throat, my instinct to aid my mate strong enough to frighten us both.

  "We'll make it through this," I promised, holding him close. "I love you."

  "I hate you," he snarled between jaw-cracking yawns. "I could be sleeping the night away in a cloud of dreams instead of puking my guts out."

  I knew he didn't mean it. It was the pain and drugs talking.

  We moved into the house on Christmas Eve. I'd heard the hammering and seen people coming and going around when I managed to get out of the vardo. It wasn't often, but Mama had come out and told me what was going on. Gordon walked along, weak but smiling. It had been hard work, but he was finally well. He'd been eating solid food for three days, and I would have to be careful that he didn't overdo it tonight.

  He looked a lot better too, now that his mane was coming back in. His clothes hung on him, because he'd lost so much weight. I cuddled him close to my side, supporting him along.

  "Merry Christmas, boys," Mama said as we came to the door. She hugged me tightly and kissed me. Then she hugged Gordon more gently. "Welcome home, son."

  "Hi, Miss Ursula," he said softly and smiled.

  The little cottage was full that evening. Sarah had brushed out her beard and braided it with green and red ribbons and jingle bells. Jesse the Alligator Boy and his wife Elizabeth the Half-girl had come up from their place down on the creek. Old Matt, who had retired down the road, and Steve, the Tilt-a-Whirl operator, were already into Daddy Frank's whiskey. Everyone had brought something, and there was more food than I'd seen in a month.

  Gordon curled close into my side and looked shy. Some of them remembered him and clapped him on the shoulder, asking how he was doing and whether he'd be joining our group next summer. I handed him a cup of eggnog to settle him.

  As he realized he was among friends, safe people, his old charm started coming back. He smiled more and words flowed more freely. I watched what he ate, making sure it was light and easy to digest. I reckoned on lots and lots of oatmeal in the coming weeks.

  Gordon started looking tired pretty quickly, so I took him to Mama's big chair by the fire. The remains of her latest knitting project were tucked into the hassock beside him. I stashed the trailing edge of the yarn and joined him, smiling. She'd doubtless been trying to make us something. Mama loved knitting but her paws frustrated her every time.

  "You going to be all right?" I asked, stroking his mane. His tail, draped over the arm of the chair, flicked along my arm. I smiled.

  "I'm just tired. I'll be in better shape by summer and ready to work."

  "Yeah, I was afraid this might be too exciting."

  We sat quietly by the fire, me holding his paws in mine, and watched my parents' friends. We didn't talk much. Finally, everyone came in, and Mama lit the candles on the little Christmas tree.

  "It's been a hard year. Nothing has gone well. For a while, it looked as if the country might get back on its feet, but like the Hindenburg, it is burning again." Daddy Frank said. Everyone nodded and murmured agreement. "But we have come through it together. And the good times will come back. We will see them in, together."

  Everyone raised their cups to that promise, even Gordon and me, although we were empty. His tail brushed my arm again and my own stumpy one wiggled with happiness.

  There were a few gifts. A bag of candy, a sack of nuts, some fish for the next night, scarves and mittens, and someone had gotten Sarah a silver hairbrush. She protested she couldn't accept it, but Matt insisted, saying it had come to him and he had no use for it. I realized I had been selfish all year, thinking only of saving as much as I could to go find Gordon. We had nothing to give anyone. I gave him a squeeze and he smiled at me. He was here, beside me and that still boggled me.

  The grown-ups finished up and each had another cup. Mama patted us as she went past, not pouring out the little noggin of whiskey for either of us.

  "What did Arthur give you this year, Ursula?" Jesse asked, his rough skin casting odd shadows in the firelight.

  "A second son," she said, and gestured to Gordon. Old Matt toasted us silently with a wink.

  We sat quietly until the last of the visitors left. Daddy Frank settled in his arm chair across from Mama's. Mama cleaned up what little mess was left.

  "I'm sorry," I blurted, feeling almost ready to cry. I didn't want to. I'd cried a lot over the last weeks, mostly while Gordon slept.

  "For what, Arthur?" Daddy Frank must have heard it because he seldom called me by name.

  "For being so selfish and not having anything for you and Mama, when you two have given me two terrific presents."

  Mama came in and put her paws on my shoulders. "Arthur, it's all right. We're all alive and well. All four of us. That's what really matters."

  I did cry then, turning my face into her apron. She held me and let me, while Gordon stroked my back.

  "I think we're both really tired, Miss Ursula," Gordon said.

  "Then let's light the lamp in your room and you two can have a look." I could hear her smile and sat up, trying not to be a big baby. I was a grown man, after all, and married too.

  She opened the door on our very own bedroom. It was small, but big enough for a double bed and a chest of drawers. After two weeks in the vardo, it looked like a palace. Mama had made us a quilt to go on the bed. I hugged her again.

  "Don't worry about the lamp. It's beautiful. Thank you." I turned and hugged Daddy Frank. "Thank you."

  Gordon looked at me, his own eyes teary. "Home."

  We stepped in, and Mama closed the door on the rest of the house so we could have our privacy. The light of the half moon came in through the one window. Our room was cold, but I knew the bed would be warm enough.

  Gordon came into my arms, and we held each other in the spill of moonlight, almost not daring to believe we were really together and alone and well at last.

  I kissed him, his short, frizzy mane just starting to come back, thick and red with black tips, his ears, his muzzle and mouth. His pawpads were velvet on my fur as he stroked my back and arms and chest.

  We got out of our clothes and climbed into bed, snuggling down under the covers. We cuddled close for warmth, nuzzling each other. His whiskers tickled my nose, and I whuffed with laughter. He shushed me, and we both giggled.

  "A long-delayed wedding night," Gordon whispered.

  "I was so scared you wouldn't want me after all that time. And I'm afraid of hurting you."

  "Arthur, shut up." Gordon kissed me hard, filling my mouth with his tongue until I quit trying to talk. Then he let me up for air. "This, I know how to do. It doesn't h
urt at all."

  He kneaded at my chest with his paws. I felt the barest hint of claw snagging at fur and skin, but not enough to hurt. His rough tongue ran up the side of my face and then down over my shoulder.

  "What are we doing, kitten?" I asked.

  He just laughed and kissed my belly. It hung empty and loose, like it was already spring. I should have been round and tight to sleep away the winter. He kept kissing and moving lower. I knew what he was going to do an instant before he licked my cock.

  I shuddered to my hind claws. The touch of his tongue rolled over my whole body, and I groaned from it. He just chuckled. It was good to hear him laugh. Then he licked me again, and I couldn't think.

  His mouth closed over my cock, his sharp teeth threatening as his claws had. His tongue curled around and around my cock until I shouted his name. The warm breath across my balls as he chuckled again pushed me right over the edge and I climaxed.

  "I'm sorry," I said. I had meant to warn him.

  He just swallowed and smiled, then licked his chops as if he'd enjoyed a special treat. "Don't be. You taste terrific."

  I blinked a little at that. "It tastes good?"

  He slid up my body, almost as graceful as he'd been when dancing, and kissed me. I tasted Gordon, all sweet desert and spice, and something heavier, like a dark forest rising from the desert, all pine trees and ground under layers of duff and furtive things hiding in the shadows. I rolled my tongue around in his mouth, tasting all of it.

  We parted and I smiled at my imagination. A little salty, a little sharp, some musk and sweetness and all Gordon on top of it, that was all I had tasted. I kissed him again, because I could. Because it was Christmas, and he was in my bed for the first time, and I had a bed for the first time. And just because.

  "I love you," he whispered. I felt his cock against my thigh, hard and hot, so I wrapped my paw around it, careful to keep my claws away from the tender skin.

  "Yes, please."

  I just held it, feeling the soft skin, the hardness under that and the slow pulse that surged through it with his heartbeat. "What do I do?" I kissed his neck, nuzzling in his mane. "What do you want?"