I went and fetched him a damp wash cloth. He took it; wiped himself; and handed it back to me without a word. His concern for being viewed as a 'man'... and not a 'fag', was all important to his sense of self, and I understood that. To have thanked me, in his way of viewing things, would have placed him inside the 'faggot' category, and that was something he would never accept. So I thanked HIM, instead; even though he didn't acknowledge the reason for it.As he zipped up his jeans and redid his. She had her "don't mess with me" robe on. It started at her ankles and went up to her neck with buttons all the way. She looked kind of stiff. She had slippers with little bunny heads on them, but I wasn't about to make any jokes about her foot ware. She was looking right at me with absolutely no emotion on her face.It seemed that we looked at each other for hours before she spoke. "What do you want, Wesley?"Uh oh. I can't remember her ever calling me Wesley. I took a deep breath and somehow. More

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