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"No offence taken."

"Now I want to do something for you" Dale said. "Your choice."

Travis was thoughtful. "There are lots of possibilities. What would you like to do? You know what you prefer in food and wine, what about things you would want to do in bed? Does anything occur to you?"

"Yes. I want to have you inside me."

"I'd like that very much. Do you think you've bottomed before?"

"Since it was my first thought, most likely I have." He got out of bed and walked to the master bathroom, with Travis's appreciative gaze following the retreat of his broad, smooth back and alluring bottom.

He returned with a tube of lubricant and some condoms. "I found these when I was looking around before." He handed the lube and a condom to Travis.

Just the thought of making love to Dale had Travis almost painfully erect. He quickly pulled the condom on and slathered it with lubricant as Dale turned onto his stomach.

Travis spread Dale's cheeks and applied a liberal coating of lubricant. Then he straddled Dale's legs and, still holding the cheeks apart, he said: "Let me know if you want me to stop" before pressing the head of his rock-hard manhood against Dale's pucker. Dale bore down like an experienced bottom; he opened, and Travis slipped inside.

After advancing a short way, Travis stopped. "How are you doing?"

"It feels good."

Reassured, Travis pushed forward, and soon he felt those shapely cheeks against his belly. "I'm all the way in. Still ok?"

"Yes. I like it. I'm sure I've done this before."

Travis began slowly, accelerating just a little bit with each stroke, aiming for Dale's prostate and generating a thrilled gasp each time he hit it. Dale's penis, having risen to full hardness, was twitching under him in reaction to the stimulation.

Soon Travis was slamming in, swept by waves of pleasure as he felt the grip of Dale's tight sphincter sliding up and down his shaft, tightest on each upstroke as if the ring of muscle were trying to keep him inside.

He held out as long as he could, trying to make it last, but finally, unable to withstand the urgency, he yelled "I'm cumming!" and sent such a deluge into the condom that he overfilled the reservoir and caused some semen to push up the sides.

When his climax was over he lay down on Dale's back, panting, his penis still erect and buried in Dale's hot rectum. Slowly, the penis deflated and he pulled out. As he withdrew, the slippery semen made him slide out of the condom, leaving it in place. He rose to his knees and grinned at the sight of the collapsed latex extending from inside Dale's cleft and lying draped over one cheek. He pulled it out and settled down next to Dale.

"Well?" Dale asked, "Was I a good lay?"

"You were a glorious lay" Travis said, putting his arms around him. "But you're so much more. You're wonderful."

***********

The next morning, Travis was awakened by a kiss on the side of the head. He opened his eyes and found himself looking up into the smiling face of the man he had made love to the previous night. Dale continued just looking down at him for a few moments, and then said: "Good morning, gorgeous."

Travis pulled him down and planted a big, sloppy kiss on his mouth. "Good morning." Holding Dale, he rolled over so that he was on top, his morning erection rubbing against Dale's. Looking amorously at the man who lay under him, he said: "If I didn't have to go to work I'd ask you to spend the whole day in bed with me." And he gave him another big, sloppy kiss.

As Travis was heading for the bathroom to take a shower, he said: "By the way, you're right - it is like sleeping on a cloud."

In the shower it occurred to him that he had been so distracted by looking after Dale these past few days that he had forgotten to take a handkerchief each morning -- and being without it hadn't bothered him. For that matter, his entire daily routine had been overturned and his world had not disintegrated.

As they were eating breakfast, Travis abruptly began: "While boyhood yet was young in me, I knew of cool and silent glens wherein there grew"

"bright ferns" Dale added, taking up the recitation, "and hillsides where ... I know that poem. What is it?"

"It's by one of your countrymen, John Le Gay Brereton. It's entitled..."

"Hill and Dale! Oh my god! That was my mother's favorite poem, she said it's why they named me ... Travis, I know where I grew up. Fremantle. It's near Perth. My parents were ... were ... " His face fell. "That's all I remember."

He went into the living room and was gone for several minutes. When he returned, he said "I looked at all the pictures again. I thought that I might recognize someone. A lot of them look familiar now but I still don't know who anybody is." He sat back down, crestfallen.

Travis rose and walked in back of Dale's chair. He leaned down, wrapped Dale in his arms, and said softly into Dale's ear: "First the doormen's names, and now the poem, and the pictures that didn't look familiar before, do now. Your memories are coming back." He kissed the ear. "You should be happy about it."

"It isn't much."

"It's the beginning. I told you that something might jog your memory, and now something has. Hang in there, be patient, there'll be more."

"I hope you're right. How did you happen on the poem?"

"The fact that you kept thinking of 'hill and dale' intrigued me. Why hill and dale, why not just dale? So I did an Internet search yesterday while I was at work. It's one of the few things I know how to do on a computer. When I came across the poem and saw that it was by an Australian, I hoped you would recognize it."

"I keep having more and more to thank you for."

***********

Half an hour later, as Travis was leaving for work he said: "You know, something puzzles me: The mugger took your wallet and your cell phone but not your watch. I know watches, and that one looks like it costs about as much as a midsize car. Why didn't he take it?"

"Maybe he didn't want to risk the delay."

"How much time would it take to get it off you, maybe two seconds?"

"Yes. You're right, that is puzzling."

***********

After work, Travis stopped at his apartment to pick up his mail and the newspaper, as well as some clothes for the next day. When he got to Dale's duplex they chatted briefly and then he said: "I'm going to get us some takeout for dinner, my treat. On my way here I saw a place called 'Thai Palace'. What do you think?"

"Sure, that would be fine. It's one of my favorites judging by the credit card bills I found in my search. I think I even saw their takeout menu. I'll be right back."

He returned with the menu, they agreed on what dishes to order, and Travis phoned the restaurant. When Dale heard him say "for pickup" he whispered "They deliver."

Travis waved him away, completed his order, and hung up. "This will be a lot faster. A delivery man would have multiple stops." With that, he left the apartment, saying "Back soon."

As he was walking down the hall, two men in suits approached him. One of them flashed a badge and said in a low voice "Come along quietly unless you want us to use the handcuffs."

He was startled. "Am I being arrested?"

"You'll find out everything when we get to the precinct."

They took him out a rear entrance. Walking to the unmarked car they indicated, Travis wondered whether this was some sort of Homeland Security operation gone awry and he had been mistaken for someone else. Some wanted man, maybe a terrorist. He took out his cell phone and began to dial a friend. They took the phone away. "You can call from the precinct."

He was put in the back seat of the car, with a man who was already there. The two other men got into the front seat and he heard all the doors lock. No one spoke.

The car moved off. All at once the man sitting next to him pulled his arms behind his back, snapped on handcuffs, and yanked a hood over his head.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?" Travis yelled.

No one answered. Now he was sure he had been mistaken for a terrorist.

They drove for a while before the car turned onto what the sound of the tires told him was an unpaved road. After several minutes, it stopped and Travis was pulled out, still hooded. He was marched along, stumbling, for a few steps, then he heard a heavy door open and he was propelled ahead. His shoes made contact with a hard, unyielding floor.

After a few steps more he was spun around and pushed onto a chair. His wrists were released, his arms were pulled around the chair back, and he was handcuffed again. Then the hood was removed.

He was in a room with cinder block walls and a single, unshaded light bulb. A man he hadn't seen before was standing at a small table on which was an open laptop computer. The man looked annoyed. He closed the computer, held it aloft, and turned to Travis. Pointing to the computer, he said "Password" in a heavy Slavic accent.

Clearly, these people were not law enforcement. The badge had been fraudulent.

"Password" the man repeated.

"The password for that computer? I have no idea."

The man held the computer a little higher and repeated more loudly "Password."

Travis too raised his voice: "How the hell would I know the password? I've never seen that computer before."

The man angrily pointed to the machine and shouted. "YOUR COMPUTER! PASSWORD!"

"THAT IS NOT MY COMPUTER AND I DON'T KNOW THE PASSWORD!"

The man gestured, and Travis screamed in pain as someone behind his chair forced something sharp under a fingernail.

"PASSWORD!" the man shouted again.

"I DON'T KNOW!" Travis shouted back, trying not to break down. "THAT IS NOT MY COMPUTER!"

Another scream as a second finger was added to his pain.

After a third denial he was yanked from the chair, forced roughly down a passage, and pushed so hard through an open doorway that he fell to the cold, concrete floor. Behind him he heard the door being pulled shut and locked, followed by retreating footsteps. He was alone in a room with no furniture.

At least they had removed the handcuffs. Grimacing, he yanked a needle from under each of two fingernails, and sucked on the bleeding fingers. Even in the absence of the needles there was considerable pain.

It seemed like hours before he was taken out and handcuffed again in the chair. The man held up the computer but didn't speak. His demand was implicit.

Deciding that he had nothing to lose, Travis guessed a password at random.

The man put the computer down, opened the cover, and pushed a button. The screen came to life and a request for a password appeared. The man carefully entered the word Travis had given him.

The screen went blank; the machine had shut itself off.

The man uttered a few words in a foreign language. Travis didn't know their meaning, but from the tone he knew it was a curse.

The man picked up a large handgun, walked to the chair, and put the gun to Travis's head. "Lie again, I kill. Password."

Travis knew this was his last chance. He hazarded another guess.

That one didn't work either.

The gun was put against his head once more, and he heard the safety being released. He squeezed his eyes shut.

Just then there was a loud banging on the heavy entry door and shouts of "POLICE! Almost simultaneously, the door was slammed open under the force of a battering ram and men in riot gear swarmed in with weapons raised. The three men who had kidnapped Travis stood immobilized, but his interrogator had darted to a rear door and flung it open.

Only to find more weapons pointing at him. He slowly lowered his gun to the floor and raised his hands.

One of Travis's rescuers used a walkie-talkie to report: "Computer retrieved, suspects in custody."

An ambulance was summoned, but Travis tried to decline medical help: "I'm ok, I just want to get out of here." He was not given that choice; the handcuffs were taken off but he was kept in the chair until two paramedics arrived with a stretcher.

As he was carried from the building, drained by his ordeal, he saw Dale at the back of the reassembled entry team craning his head to get a better look. He smiled and managed a weak wave. Dale shouted "Travis!" and tried to run to him, but was held back. The next time Travis saw him was in the Emergency Room, when Dale ducked past a guard and ran to his side.

Dale stared at the bloody fingertips and the nails darkened by the blood underneath. "They tortured you. Oh Travis, this is my fault. I'm so sorry."

Travis reached out with his uninjured hand and grasped Dale's, but said nothing; he was too weak.

Meanwhile the guard had rushed in. He took Dale by the shoulders and began pulling him away.

"No" Travis croaked, summoning dregs of energy as he held tight to Dale's hand. "Best friend. Stay."

The guard looked at the attending physician, who said "Let him stay; it will help the patient." Reluctantly, the guard let go and returned to his station at the door.

Travis breathed a sigh of relief when the damaged fingers were bathed in a topical anesthetic solution and the pain lessened, but he looked away when the physician brought out a hypodermic syringe and told him that the damaged fingernails were about to be removed.

As the doctor numbed the fingers and began his work, a man in a business suit entered, showed Travis and the doctor government credentials, and asked Travis for an account of his ordeal.

Still holding tight to Dale's hand, Travis began. As he spoke, he started to tremble. Dale put his other hand comfortingly on Travis's shoulder. It stopped the trembling and Travis managed to conclude his account in spite of frequent interruptions by the government agent with requests for additional details.

When his fingers had been bandaged, he was given care instructions and lifted into a wheelchair.

Dale gasped. "My god, what did those thugs do to your legs?"

"His legs are fine" the attending physician assured Dale. "This is hospital policy."

Travis squeezed Dale's hand and managed a wan smile. "I guess they don't want patients falling on their way out and suing the hospital."

***********

During their taxi ride to Dale's apartment, Travis's trembling returned. Dale pulled him into a hug and said: "Travis, this is all my fault. I don't know how I can ever make it up to you."

"Why is it your fault? And how did the police find me?"

"I'll explain everything after I get some whiskey into you; I want to see some color back in your face. Right now you look like death warmed over ... sorry for the cliché, but it fits; you look terrible."

"You sure know how to flatter a guy" Travis said with a wink, making a feeble attempt at another smile.

In the apartment, Dale brought Travis the whiskey, which he sipped while Dale phoned for delivery from the restaurant where Travis had been headed when he was abducted. Dale was told that the kitchen was closed and their delivery man had gone home for the night, but an explanation to the manager, including a reminder of how many people he had taken to dinner at the restaurant over time, resulted in a commitment to prepare the food and make the delivery herself.

Turning down a second drink, Travis asked "Now will you tell me what's going on? Who were those men they captured? And how did you find me?"

"The key was your comment this morning about my watch. You pointed out that the mugger could have gotten it off me in a few seconds but he hadn't taken it. I thought about that after you went out for the food, and a vague recollection formed: I became sure that there was something else I had with me when I was mugged. I was still thinking about it when I noticed that you had been gone too long. I called the Thai Palace and they said you hadn't shown up. That scared me. I tried to reach you on your cell phone but you didn't answer. Now I was really scared. Maybe that was what triggered something: As I was about to go out searching for you I suddenly remembered what I had been carrying when I was attacked: It was my laptop computer."

Travis broke in: "Ah! And the watch could be sold for a lot more than the computer so you knew it was the computer the mugger was after."

"Right. And that's not all; I remembered what was in the computer and what kind of consultant I am."

"Dale, that's terrific! More and more is coming back! ... Oh ... what was in the computer?"

"A lot of information about the software and device designs I provide to the people who use my services. I'm an expert in cyber security, and I'm considered tops in the field. I'm the only one who puts firewall code in the BIOS, the boot sector, and the OS kernel. I also encrypt sensitive files using a 256-bit..." He stopped, noticing that Travis was looking at him blankly. "I'm sorry, I tend to lapse into technical jargon. Let's just say that using my software and hardware is like having a belt, suspenders, gaiters, and a chastity belt."

"Ok, I get the idea."

"Good. Anyway, everyone who has a computer network knows their sensitive information is at risk from hacking by individuals, corporations, and foreign nations. They're desperate for effective protection. If they can afford the best, I tell you without modesty, they come to me. My clients even include some agencies of our government, so anyone who gets their hands on my software and my device designs would have a huge leg up on gaining access to critical government information."

"Therefore you concluded that the computer was taken for its content."

"Exactly."

"So who took it?"

"I don't know yet. After the gang has been questioned, my contact will call me with the details."

"You have a contact at the police department? That's cool."

"The police weren't involved."

"But they shouted..."

"Yes they shouted 'Police' at the door as a quick way to identify themselves, but that was a federal SWAT team."

"You could call in a federal SWAT team? Wow, you must have connections in high places."

"In a way: When I remembered the computer, I phoned a government agency I've been working for and notified them that it had been stolen. I also told them I believed you had been kidnapped and it was probably related. Ordinarily they would have referred me to the FBI for those things, but I mentioned that the computer contains some of the agency's highly classified information. That made it a matter of national security, so they took immediate action. Their focus was on the laptop computer, and of course I was worried about that too, but you were my main concern."

Travis looked at him in surprise. "You care that much for me?"

"I care more than you know."

"I'm beginning to see that" Travis said. Then he snickered.

Dale frowned. "You think it's funny that I care more about you than I even do about national security?"

"Oh Dale, no. I laughed because I thought of the SWAT team guy's report back to headquarters. The first thing he said was that they had the computer, and the second thing was that they had the gang."

"And you were only mentioned third."

Travis slowly shook his head, smiling. "I wasn't mentioned at all. As you said, I wasn't their focus."

They sat for a moment in silence before Travis asked: "How did you find out where I was?"

"I was getting to that: Turns out that I keep good records: I was able to find the Wi-Fi address of my computer and give it to my government contact. He had his electronics team set their monitoring equipment to listen for the signal. They kept picking it up, but it kept disappearing. The guy who had the computer must have been guessing one password after another. Any time a wrong password is entered, the machine switches itself off, so the machine was on for only about half a minute at a time. But accumulating the data from those half-minute intervals, the electronics people were able to get its location more and more accurately. When they had it down precisely enough, the SWAT team went in. Civilians aren't allowed to go along, but I called in a favor. A big one. I was praying that you would be where the computer was."