hairy chest and cried. He didn't want to, but he could no longer restrain himself.
Blake's arms encircled him, held him tenderly and pulled him closer. Their wet bodies rubbed against each other and the fragrance, water-born, scented the air. It felt comforting to be in Blake's embrace.
"Don't cry, Gay." His fingers moved across the forehead, smoothed the curled hair, mussed there, brushed them back. "They're not worth one single tear … don't cry … please don't …"
"Oh … I can't help it … I'm such a baby," Gaylord sobbed. "No wonder they pick on me … no wonder they … why am I so … so … I wish I were like them …"
"Now you know you wouldn't want to be like them …" Blake raised the dripping head with both hands. "I like you just as you are … what's wrong with you … there's nothing wrong with you … Gay."
Oh yes there is, Gaylord wanted to shout … I'm a sissy … that's why they make fun of me. I like to wear girls' clothes … powder … rouge … perfume … I don't want to like it, but I do … I'm a sissy and I can't change … I want to be a girl … was taken for a girl last night … I wish I were a girl so I could love you … I'd love you so much. He stood there in Blake's arms, crying softly. His breath caught occasionally in his throat and made him gasp. He looked up into Blake's eyes and hugged him tight, clung there voiceless …
"You know, Gay," Blake breathed softly, "you … you do remind me of a … of Venus."
He kissed the upturned lips and the spraying water formed a glass curtain of protection around them …
