Quinton was in love. His hands wouldn't obey. They lifted Willie off the bed. Willie didn't struggle. He hung limp in Quinton's grasp, looking at him, questioning.

Quinton hugged Willie to him, kissing him lightly. His eyes were open searching Willie's face for a response, revulsion, passion, something, anything. Willie was a rag doll in his arms, his face blank.

Quinton turned loose. Willie stood staring at him, a look of utter astonishment on his face.

"Quinton, you devil," came the soft Southern drawl.

Quinton blushed. He dropped his eyes, couldn't look Willie in the eye. He turned. Dragging his feet he left the bedroom and started down the hall.

"Quinton." The sound was a whisper but it carried to Quinton's ear. He stopped and looked back.

Willie was standing framed in the bedroom doorway.

"You get back here, right now, and explain yourself!" Willie was serious, but smiling.

Quinton wanted to keep going, leave, never see Willie again. But, he couldn't. He walked back toward the bedroom. He was trembling. He stood in front of Willie and wrapped his arms around him once again.