Clean Living

Clean Living, 3/?
by Scribe

Chicago

"Chase, sweetheart, it is PAST time for you to learn how to drive," said William. "You could take the money that you spend on taxis and have enough to pay a note on a decent second hand car."

"Not unless I can make a big ass downpayment," said Chase. "And I can't. My saving's account isn't quite as light as my puff pastry, but it comes close."

"I've already told you that I'd be happy to..."

"You are NOT giving me the money. I've told you once, I've told you twice--I'm not going to be a kept boy."

"It's not like that, Chase. You could pay me back. It's just that you could take your time doing it."

"M-hm. And the interest?"

"Um... Well, I wouldn't feel comfortable charging you interest."

They were lying in Chase's bed. A lot of their best discussions took place in bed, a fact that both of them knew was a bit unusual for many relationships. In fact, William didn't know of too many couples of any persuasion that could discuss both frivolous and serious matters in and out of bed. Chase snuggled up under William's arm and rested his chin on William's chest. "Look, William--I know that you wouldn't see it as buying my affections, but that's what it would look like to most of the rest of the world."

William gave him a squeeze. "Since when have you been overly concerned about what the rest of the world thinks?"

"When it comes to what you give me, I'm already behaving in a manner that makes me feel vaguely guilty. You see, hon, my Mama done told me, when I was in kneepants*, that a good boy didn't accept expensive presents from someone unless they were engaged." He rolled his eyes up thoughtfully. "Of course back then she thought I'd be dealing with girlfriends, and girls my age didn't give boys my age expensive presents."

"You've very neatly managed to once again steer the conversation away from its subject. You need to learn how to drive."

"I didn't take Driver's Ed in school," Chase protested. "I took Home Ec instead. Boy, I caught crap from the other guys about that, since there was nothing but girls in there." He smiled. "Then they realized that there was NOTHING BUT GIRLS, and they decided I was a subversive genius."

"You are--just not for the reasons they thought. You're old enough now that you don't need to have had Driver's Ed. You just have to pass the written and driving tests. Mona, Bootsie, and I can take turns tutoring you on the written one. You'd be ready in just a couple of weeks, I'm sure."

"Oh, I'm sure, too. I'm a fast study, and good at memorizing. But then we come to the actual driving. William, Chicago traffic makes me nervous enough when I'm riding in the backseat. No, I lie--it sometimes scares the crap out of me."

William chuckled. "You? Oh, come on, Chase. You're the boy who took down The Marauder.**"

"He was human--technically, anyway. He was flesh and blood, not steel and rubber, and he damn sure didn't weigh several thousand pounds. Plus he had some sort of a brain, so I had a reasonable chance of knowing how he'd act, and how to counter it."

"Chase? You---need to learn how to drive."

Chase sighed. "I know, I know. I just don't want to."

"You're really that nervous, baby?" Chase nodded. "Tell you what--if I can find you a less stressful environment to train in, and I work with you, will you agree to at least try?"

"Oh, all right."

"That's my boy. You'll be all grown up in no time. You make me proud. I have a question for you. Can you get about a week off two months from now?"

"Hm." Chase thought about it. "I might. They owe me some vacation, two months is a good amount of request time, and it won't be during one of our usual busy seasons. Why?" He batted his eyelashes at William flirtatiously. "Are you getting ready to tempt me, you naughty man?"

"I certainly hope so." He propped himself up against the headboards. This let Chase's head drop into his lap, and Chase rolled over onto his back so that he could look up at his lover. William stroked Chase's hair. The rinse had long ago faded, leaving only bright blond, and sometimes William missed the frivolous touch. "You know that there are other clubs devoted to the B/D, D/s lifestyle besides Shibari?"

"Theoretically. I haven't actually run into any."

"Well, one of the biggest is the Doms and Dommes Club. It's got chapters in every state, most of the states having multiple chapters. It's also organized in just about every country that isn't under oppressive, militant religious rule. They're yearly convention is going to be in America, and they've invited a number of other clubs to send representatives, including Shibari. In fact," he smiled, "you're looking at the elected representative for my chapter."

Chase gave a squeal and hugged him. "I'm so proud!"

"You should be, because I'm allowed to bring a date, and I'm asking you."

Chase sat up quickly, eyes huge. "Really?"

"Sure. Who else would I take?"

"You could have your pick of any dozen or so gorgeous guys, or girls, for that matter."

"Chase." William's voice was gently chiding.

"I know," said Chase quietly. "It's just that sometimes I have to remind myself that this isn't some beautiful dream that I'm going to have to wake up from."

"So, you'll come with me?"

"Of course I will."

"You don't even know where we'd be going. You ought to find out before you agree."

"All right," said Chase obligingly. "Where are we going?"

"What if I say someplace like Bumfuck, Egypt?"

"William, you're aware that I'm gay, right? Bumfuck, Egypt has an entirely differnt meaning for me than for the straight population. I know that Chicago is one of the convention capitals, but since you're talking about going somewhere I'm going to assume it isn't here. So, where are we going?"

"Guess."

"Um..." he squinted. "New York?"

"Nope."

"San Francisco?"

"Cliche."

Chase swatted him. "Okay, Boston."

"I'll admit that WOULD give it an even kinkier cache."

Chase rolled on top of him. "I'm tired of guessing. Tell me," he squirmed, "or I'll torture you with sex."

"And you can still question why I'd choose to be with you." Familiar now with Chase's sudden enthusiasms, William took hold of his hips. "Las Vegas."

*Squeal!*

It was a good thing that William had hold of Chase--otherwise he might have bounced right off the bed. "I thought you'd like that."

"Oo, oo, oo!" Chase shook his hands excitedly. "Do you think we can see Siegfried and Roy? I LOVE them! They're such a sweet couple, and they have FABULOUS fashion sense."

"You WOULD want to see them."

"Well, of course. I missed Liberace. And I want to see an Elvis impersonator, too. No--TWO Elvis impersonators--his hot young black leather version, and his Hawaiian white rhinestone jumpsuit version. And I want to go buck wild at the slot machines."

"Buck wild, huh?"

"I'll raid my savings and play the QUARTER machines."

"I may have to put you in a twelve step program when we get home. If I want to play poker or blackjack, will you stand behind my chair to bring me luck?"

"You know it, baby. I'll let you rub my pink hair for luck."

"Your...? Chase, you don't HAVE pink hair anymore." Chase smiled at him sweetly. "Oh, brother."

"Or lavender. I regret that I let Mona talk me out of putting in that blue rinse. I'm SURE I'd have gotten a lovely lilac color."

"You're just obsessed with anime."

"All good little sissy boys are. I..." he laid a hand on his chest, "qualify as a bishounen."

"You're definitely a beautiful boy."

"Oh, but you're a biseinen."

"I haven't heard that one before."

"That's a beautiful man who's older than the bishounen."

"I can live with that. So, you'll be able to get the time off?"

"Sweetie, if that butthole of a manager won't give me the time off, I'll threaten him to have GLAAD or ACT UP pull a sit in at the diner."

"Would they do that for such a personal cause?"

"No. But HE doesn't know that. Working for a politically ignorant asshole can sometimes work to your advantage."

"Great. You're letting me take you shopping before we go."

"Oh, all right." Chase gave a mock weary sigh. "I'll make the sacrifice. You know, I think that in another life i could have been a showgirl."

"Nah." William squeezed him. "You aren't tall enough."

~*~

"I'm very glad that the the court house is only a couple of blocks away," said Clive. "I would have gone anywhere to do your hair, Lynette, hon, but I'm so much more confident in my own station. What are you laughing at?"

Lynette Vittelli was chuckling. "At the very idea of you ever being less than completely confident."

"Thou art a saucy wench. I suppose that's where Trenton gets it."

Lynette was in the chair back in Clive's private station. The door to the outer salon was standing resolutely open, letting everyone know that all that was going on back here was hair styling. Clive, for once, was wearing a smock. They were going to be going directly from Attitudes to City Hall, and he didn't want to have to change clothes. Lynette had, to Trenton's mild displeasure, refused a big, pouffy wedding dress, so she was able to wear a styling poncho over it without having to worry about wrinkling or crushing anything. "I had my fairy princess wedding when I married your father, doll," she'd told Trenton gently. "I love Henderson enough that I don't need all the trappings to make it real."

A week before the wedding Clive had talked Lynette into accepting one of his deluxe dye jobs. "You're maturing gracefully, dear, so there's only a TINY bit of gray. Why not?" The color had mellowed to a beautiful, rich mink brown--exactly as Trenton had remembered it from when he was a child. After a few discussions, Clive was giving her an old fashioned 'finger wave'. "You're going to look like a 1930s movie mag cover girl, doll," Clive said, "Except I wouldn't advise quite that dark a lipstick."

Trenton, dressed in an imaculate navy blue suit and crisp white shirt, with a blood red carnation in his lapel, was leaning against the mirrored wall, watching. "You look beautiful, Mom. Of course, you always look beautiful."

"Thanks, sweetie, but you're prejudiced," said Lynette serenely.

"Well, I say..." Clive started.

"And so are you," said Lynette. "As if I'd expect an unbiased opinion from my son-in-law."

Trenton dropped his chin, studying the dark polished floor. Clive darted a glance at him, knowing that it was Lynette's use of the term 'son-in-law' that had disconcerted his young lover. They never used the terms for spouses with each other--husband. Both knew that it wasn't possible for them to be any more bound together. They were married in spirit and heart, but the world still wasn't ready for them to be married in the sight of the law. Clive knew that hurt Trenton, and it made him want to rage against the system. Now Trenton was going to see his mother get married--a step that he couldn't take himself. As happy as he was for her, it was going to ache a little.

Clive used an ess curve stroke to smooth the last waves into place. "There. You are now officially gorgeous. Allow me, m'lady. Sit forward." She did, and he unclipped the poncho, then removed it with a flourish. "Arise." She stood up, and he gestured at the mirrored wall. "Observe yourself, then tell me I lied when I said you were beautiful."

Lynette cocked her head, looking at herself in the mirror. "Well, I'll be damned," she said softly. She'd chosen to wear a simple sheath dress of oyster silk. It had a dropped neckline, no real shoulders to speak of, but long, form fitting sleeves. The slightly ruffled hem was just below her knees in front, and dropped in a scallop in back to a barely there train. The bodice had just enough cream colored lace to keep it from being too plain. "I DO look pretty good."

"You look like Trenton's..."

"Don't say I look like his sister, Clive, or I'll know you're fibbing."

"You look like his very young aunt. The one that all his friends would lust after, requiring him to threaten to kick their butts."

"I can accept that."

Clive had been taking off his smock. Under it he was wearing the same tuxedo he'd worn to Scribe's famous charity gala, complete with the braided black leather cummerbund. Clive kissed her cheek, careful not to smear her make-up. (Mrs. Havasnark had done Lynette's make-up. Trenton had been a little goggle eyed at the prospect, given that Mrs. Havasnark usually tended to do her face as if she were still in the theatrical productions she'd done as a young girl. Mrs. Havasnark had tartly told him that she knew the difference between her kind of make-up and understated. She'd been telling the truth.) "Henderson is a lucky man, pet." He offered her his elbow. "Shall we?"

~*~

The justice of the peace was slated to perform the Swallow-Vittelli wedding (and when Clive had found out that Henderson's last name was Swallow, he'd thought that it was no wonder that he preferred to be known by his first name). Justice Tobias Carruthers had another wedding to perform just before that one--the usual grouping of bride, groom, and two witnesses. He noticed, though, that the back of the courtroom was beginning to fill up with people. They were all nicely dressed--some more gaudily than others--so he assumed they must be there for the upcoming wedding. It looked like it was going to be the biggest audience he'd had in a month of Sundays, and he couldn't help but wonder who'd inspire such interest.

Attitudes and closed down, and so had Lavender's Green. Those attending were Toddy, Bettina, Tinkerbelle, Bryant, Mrs. Havasnark, Mr. Bellows, all the other beauticians, Elise and two of her sons (who'd gotten their hair done by Lynette on a regular basis, and these two looked like at least four), and an assortment of customers and friends from both establishments. Once the ceremony was over they were having the reception-party at Lavender's Green. Trenton and Elise had been cooking themselves sick, and Toddy was donating an open bar as his wedding present. It promised to be one of the events of the year.

When the first wedding was over and the participants cleared out, the waiting guests quickly filed in and took seats on either side of the aisle. Clive went down front to the justice and introduced himself. "I'll be giving away the bride."

"Really? That's a bit unusual," said the justice.

"Yes, well, we're unusual people. I don't expect you usually have anyone play a wedding march, either, but the guitarist from the Lavender's Green band volunteered, and it actually sounds very lovely on a classic twelve string guitar. All you need to do is wait here at the front and do your usual bit when the opportunity presents himself. All right?"

The man shrugged. "I have no problem. In fact, it's nice to have a change."

"So glad you approve." Clive pulled a slightly stunned looking Henderson out of the crowd and positioned him before the justice. He patted the other man's shoulder, saying, "This is your first marriage, isn't it, Henderson?" Henderson nodded. "Don't worry. Lynette knows what she's doing." He raised his voice. "Trent?" Trenton loped in from where he'd been waiting in the lobby with his mother. "Trent, you're best man--you need to be acting supportive to your future stepfather."

Trenton positioned himself beside Henderson, and gave him a grin. Henderson couldn't help responding in kind. "Don't worry," said Trenton. He patted his pocket. "I have the ring right here--and smelling salts, if you need them."

"I think I'll be all right, once I see Lynette," said Henderson. "Seeing her makes everything all right."

"Good," said Trenton firmly. "That's how it should be." A long haired young man, with a large, boxy guitar, stood near the front of the courtroom, and the crowd grew hushed. He glanced back down the aisle and Clive nodded at him before stepping back out. The muscician started strumming the guitar, his fingers moving nimbly, weaving a delicate, intricate melody. There was the melody of the traditional wedding march, but the ethereal ringing of the strings gave it an almost fairy tale quality.

After a few seconds the door to the hall opened, and Lynette and Clive stood framed in the doorway. There was a collective breath, then quiet murmurs of admiration. Lynette was carrying a bouquet of lilies and white roses, and another white rosebud had been tucked in her hair, over her ear. She was glowing. Her free hand was tucked securely in the crook of Clive's arm. The Dom looked both proud and solemn. He was taking the honor of giving her away seriously.

All eyes were fixed on the bride as they made their way down the aisle. Mr. Bellows was hugging and patting a sobbing Havasnark. Bettina and Tinkerbelle were sharing a rapidly emptying box of tissues. Trenton was grinning, but he could feel his throat tightening as he watched his mother, face shining with happiness and tender eyes fixed on Henderson, approach.

When they arrived at the front Clive took Lynette's hand, kissed it, and handed it over to Henderson. Then he bowed to the man and stepped back. Henderson's eyes were fixed on Lynette. He added his other hand, clasping hers with both of them, and whispered, "I love you so much." It shouldn't have been possible for Lynette to look any more radient, but she did. The ceremony went off without a hitch. Trenton handed over the ring without a fumble, then stepped back to stand beside Clive as Henderson and Lynette recited the wedding vows.

Clive watched the ceremony, but he was very aware of his own lover, standing at his side. Trenton's breath hitched slightly. It would have been unnoticable to anyone who didn't know Trenton as well as Clive did. Clive glanced over at Trenton. Trent's bright green eyes were brighter than normal, a little moist, but he was smiling. But the smile trembled slightly at the edges, and as Henderson slipped the ring on his mother's finger, Trenton's hand crept out and took hold of Clive's, squeezing almost fiercely as the couple before them were joined in the sight of man and God.

And Clive once again inwardly raged against the pigheaded intolerance of society at large.