Everything on this page is fiction. Any resemblance or reference to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Fandom: Houston Knights
Series: Other Authors: Glo: Rawlings Street AU
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Joe/Levon
Archive: Starwinder's
Title: Dancing the Knight Away
Author: Glo
e-mail: gentlerainfall@yahoo.com
Standard Disclaimer: Houston Knights belongs to Jay Bernstein and Michael Butler and Columbia Pictures. No copyright infringement is intended. This is fan fiction, written out of love for the shows. I am making no money off this. I have no money so please don't sue me. Any original characters that may appear in these stories are the property of the author.

Dancing the Knight Away...
By Glo

He stared into the dressing room mirror. All around him, men were similarly occupied, only they were very matter of fact about their tasks. Applying base and color, to newly shaved jaws, they chatted about normal guy things. Football, basketball. Several had moved away from the makeup areas and were pressing weights against one wall. One was admiring his body, naked except for a g-string, in front of a full-length mirror. He was flexing biceps, twisting his torso to see himself better. Another was using shoe polish to banish a few stray gray hairs.

Each one had a fluid, muscular dancer's body, muscle groups well defined but not to the point of a body-builder's. Light on their feet, they seemed to bounce as they walked. They'd made room for him easily, all caught up in their own preparations for the stage. He'd stared at the tiny g-string that Sue Gormon had handed him as she led him down the hall to the dressing rooms earlier. Now he had to put the damn thing on. She'd told him that he would be using the Phantom's costume tonight.

The Phantom. Well, that was to be expected. Two dancers had died so far - both had dressed out as the Phantom on the nights of their deaths.

Ignoring the men around him, he slid the narrow elastic strips up his legs and between them, the tiny bit of fabric looked woefully inadequate. He drew the straps up over his hipbones. He could feel the y-connect at the back settle into his crease, the single strap that fed from there pressed against him immodestly. With delicacy and trembling fingers, he gathered himself up in one hand and carefully eased the stretchy black fabric up around himself, cupping his balls close and holding his half-erect penis flush with his mons. The two top ends of the panel were the other ends of the straps. He released himself and looked down. The bulge of black fabric at his groin was obscene as far as he was concerned, but he didn't have a choice here.

Wonder where Levon is right now? Probably tying one on at Chicken's. He had not been happy that Joe'd been tagged for this assignment. Joe LaFiamma hadn't been too happy either. He slowly stood, seeing his body differently now as he looked at himself in the mirror. Meat. On the hoof. Another shudder ran through him. Wished Levon was here. Knew it wasn't allowed. Only dancers back here. Out front, only women. Hepplewhites.

Marty, one of the dancers, who shared space at the mirrors with LaFiamma, looked over. "Joe, you're going to have to move faster or you won't be ready for your cue." He handed LaFiamma a bottle of lotion. "Here, just smear this all over. It will keep your skin moist under the hot lights, make you gleam. The ladies like their men to shine." He grinned. He didn't know that LaFiamma was an undercover cop, none of the dancers knew. They'd all been told that Joe was simply a new replacement dancer, that it was his first night as a Hepplewhites dancer. None had protested giving him the solo spot as the Phantom - by now it was considered jinxed.

Swallowing hard, Joe accepted the squeeze bottle. He poured some of the cream into one hand, began to smear himself, suddenly flashing back to last night and Levon smearing him with his cum, then lapping it off with slow deliberate wipes of his tongue. He imagined that the hand rubbing cream in now was Levon's instead of his own. He could feel his skin begin to heat up, tingle, his cock begin to swell, lengthen. He slid one square hand down the inside of his thigh, smoothing the lotion over the sensitive skin there, the feel of the rough palm teasing him. Further arousing him. His eyes were half-closed now as he trailed his oily hands up the fronts of his thighs and over his flat stomach, onto the washboard abs. He let his hands cross over and cup, rub his nipples to erectness. He nearly groaned, imagining the feel of Levon's lips on a tit, sucking it in, then lapping it with a rough, wet tongue. His elbows rose as his hands continued their journey up the collarbone, uncrossing and moving back, back behind his neck to knead his stressed neck muscles. A second set of hands joined his and moved down his back, wiping more lotion into the areas he couldn't reach. "Le-?"

"Naw, just me, Marty. Didn't mean to surprise you. We usually do each other in our 'blind' spots. You wanna get my back now?"

Embarrassed in his fantasy, Joe opened his eyes and saw the other man standing back to him, waiting. The man could have passed for a Greek statue, tight buttock cheeks, long curved spine. He put some more lotion on his hands and carefully smoothed it on. "No need to be so gentle, it has to be smeared in well or it won't work under the lights. Just press hard. Yeah, like that." Marty leaned in to the competent hands.

Over their heads a soft gong sounded and a green light flashed. An intercom crackled static for a second, then Sue's voice came on. "Carob, Kew, Bob, and Ted, you're up next. Get to the wings."

"Oh, freak it! I'm up after them!" Marty swung away curls of black hair streaming behind him, leaving Joe standing there with hands still raised. Flicking a quick look back, the other man said, "You better hurry, you're on after me!" He was already pulling on a gold lame' body suit, with lots of tassels and silver piping. Joe realized it was supposed to represent a fancy 'cowboy' outfit. Marty was bent over, closing the Velcro fastenings of the tear-away suit, where it seamed up the outsides of his legs.

Sue had explained how the costumes worked earlier, showing Joe the one he was going to have to wear - and take off. Lots of Velcro. The dark Italian swore under his breath as he fastened his own pair of black silk pants together, the gray silk shirt was Tom Jones style, with billowing sleeves, tight cuffs. Black satin booties, he felt the bottoms, was relieved to feel some rubber tread, least I won't slip. White silk cravat, large stickpin, enormous fake ruby on the head of it. The white papier-mâché mask, now well known as the mask of the Phantom of the Opera.

He brushed his longish dark hair back, slipped on the mask, then the hat, a slouchy affair, also adopted from the musical. The cape swirled in wonderful, liquid ripples, puddling at his feet, then lifting off the ground as he moved. It was so sheer he decided it must be black dyed parachute silk. Beneath it was as second layered cape that would come free separately, in wine red. Lastly he pulled on the gloves, thin black leather, cheap from the looks of them, up close anyway. He remembered Sue saying that it was normal practice to have to restock almost all wardrobes completely every night. Seems the customers, the ladies, liked souvenirs.

Somewhere along the way, Marty had disappeared, other men had reappeared in only their g-strings, carrying whatever parts of their costumes had not been snatched by the women. They were talking quietly, clearly tired, plucking paper money from where it had been tucked around their g-string straps. Counting it. With another look at Marty's empty chair, LaFiamma swallowed, his throat dry. I'm next.

*************

When Levon Lundy dropped Joe off at the stage door to the Hepplewhite's Club earlier that afternoon, he'd not said anything about hiz intentions. Iffn it didn't work out, Joe'd be more than a mite disappointed. He'd jest kissed Joe thoroughly and warned him to be careful, watch hiz back. They both knew that several HPD cops would be there to act as back up for Joe, all women. Good women, who could do the job, for shore. BUT - not Joe's pardner, not him, not Levon. And by damn, Levon decided, he was gonna be there too.

Neither of them had been thrilled to find out that Joe's mug shot had been picked out by Sue Gorman, the owner of Houston's Hepplewhites Club, as the only cop among the MCU detectives who would be able to 'pass' as one of her stable of dancers. She'd been given a sheaf of personnel folder covers - with the stock head shots of the employees. Once she'd picked out Joe - and Nate Holiday as a second possible - she'd been brought in to the bullpen by the police liaison person for the homicide and vice task force working the case that sucked Joe in. Seeing Holiday and LaFiamma in person, without warning them of what was happening, Sue Gorman had been definite - LaFiamma or no one.

Joe was called in to Lieutenant Beaumont's office within the hour and told of the new assignment. Joann Beaumont had had Levon in with him, they were partners, he was entitled to know what was going to happen, even though he'd not be part of it. Both men had hit the roof.

"Joann, you got to be kiddin'!" Lundy's pale blonde complexion was turning firey red with outrage. "That's just a male stripper joint for crowds of women."

"I ain't gonna do it." Joe had been definite, stepping so close to Levon that he was nearly leaning on him. He had that stubborn look of defiance that surfaced occasionally when he got angry with his partner. Beaumont had seldom seen it directed at her.

"LaFiamma, Lundy, there is no choice here. Orders come from way up the line. This is interdepartmental cooperation. It's out of my hands." She softened her voice, "I'm sorry Joe, I know you don't like the idea. I don't either."

Lundy put his knuckled fists down on her desk and leaned down on them thrusting his chin toward her. "Jest what's so important they got to take one'a ours and put him in cold?"

Before Beaumont could answer, Joe LaFiamma, who'd been watching her, reading her face and body language, put a hand on Lundy's shoulder and pulled him back. "Easy, Levon, let's hear her out."

Somehow, when Lundy got angry, LaFiamma always seemed to lose his own anger and become the buffer for his partner. It was the strangest thing, but Beaumont had noticed it more and more with the passing of time for the team. It was almost as if the emotionally reacting Italian expected the cooler, more self-contained Texan to be his anchor and when that same Texan lost it in a storm of anger himself, the Italian's anger dissipated as his focus became support for his partner. LaFiamma became protective of Lundy.

So, Beaumont had weathered the storm, then explained the circumstances - two dead dancers already and a trail of cocaine sales leading back to them. Naturally no one knew anything. The other departments, homicide and vice, had combined when they'd found their cases overlapping. Neither was ready to hand it over to MCU quite yet, however neither had anyone who Gorman felt could infiltrate successfully. And that was the key, being convincing. Only trouble was, far as Lundy was concerned, that Joe would be a walking target and out there without him to cover his back.

Both murders had been during performances - somehow the men had been overdosed though not even the doctors could tell for certain how the drug had been introduced into their systems - there'd been no sign of puncture wounds and no sign of tampered food or drink. Not that the dancers ate before performing, or had much beyond water either. So someone needed to go in undercover.

*********

The night before Joe's debut, the partners decided to stay at their downtown apartment in the Rawlings Street District. Mitch, their landlord, and their sometimes-cat, Carson, greeted them enthusiastically, and then Mitch left them to their private evening, under the watchful eye of Carson, the Maine Coon who'd adopted them some time back. A final night together before they began the assignment gave them both a measure of comfort, and staying in town meant they didn't have to leave their bed too soon in the morning.

Crawling into bed, Joe slipped his arms around his lover, snuggling close to Levon's blonde warmth. He started to lick across the back of Levon's shoulders as his hands traveled slowing, teasingly up and down the wiry frame. One fingertip lingered over a hard nipple, gently flicking it even harder.

Levon moaned and arched his spine, sliding his head back up and tight against Joe's closest shoulder. He turned his head to kiss the jawline beside him, lapping at it with a hungry tongue. Gawd, Ah miss you already, boy, he thought, straining to tighten himself against his sweet friend.

Joe shivered and settled one hand lovingly over Levon's growing member, soothing the hot, thickening dick and letting a finger or two slip in and out of the curling pubic hairs. "My cowboy," Joe purred softly, "I love you so much."

He dipped his fingers in and tou of the nest of wiry blonde hairs. Levon grunted urgently, pushing up against the cupping hand and Joe flattened his other hand to hold Levon across his chest, keeping his squirming lover contained and hot. Levon cried out and hissed, "Jooooooooeeeeeeyyyyyyyy." He felt as if he was steamin'.

Joe's smoldering eyes slanted down with amusement and lust, black with the deep love that they shared. Levon's long, sinewy arms were resting on top of his partner's, echoing, shadowing Joe's movements. His hands tightened on top of Joe's, the long fingers weaving through the Italian's shorter, squarer ones. Levon pressed the paired hands down against hiz own body, thrusting up urgently against the pressures and the feeling of Joe's warmth surrounding him. He could feel Joe's own erection sliding safely into position, lodged against his crack, a long hard full feeling of contact. Feels so good, perfect.

Joe tipped his pelvic cradle back and up, capturing Levon's small, tight ass against his own lap, letting his own needy cock fit between Levon's ass cheeks, slide up and down, lubricating itself with leaking pre-cum fluids now. Home, I'm home. It felt like his heart might burst with the ache of love he felt for this man who was his life now. He moistened his lips in anticipation. He began to rock their joined bodies, holding Levon's heavy throbbing dick so that he could slide the foreskin up and down, feeling the cowboy's desperate hands clutching at his. He moved rhythmically, his own member now fully engorged and flaming at the slick stroking in Levon's furrow. He bent his head forward over Le's shoulder, fixing his open mouth on the collarbone and sucking hard.

Levon gasped and rubbed his body frantically in counterpoint to Joe's rocking, thrusting motions, his heat rising to a red haze. He tossed his damp blonde curls restlessly back against the brunette's shoulder. When Joe's mouth clamped down on hiz collarbone, Levon cried out inarticulately, a long keening sound, cuming, cuming...his eruption spurring on Joe's.

Joe groaned against the bone and skin that he had been sucking on as he, too, came with an earth-shattering force. He could feel the ejaculate warm and wet and sticky between them, more dampness on his hand where he was slowly, gently releasing Levon. Ignoring the mess they'd made, Joe helped Levon to roll over into his arms and close, face to face now, with the smaller blonde's body held comfortingly close in Joe's loving embrace. Passion spent, both sunk into the deep, dreamless sleep of post-coital exhaustion. Joe held Levon possessively, even in his sleep, a small smile on his lips, closed eyes almost bruised with fatigue.

Levon, too, lay quietly, breathing deeply of Joe's natural musky scent intermingled with hiz own. Sleep claimed him briefly, but within a few minutes, it threw him back as his intense worry for Joe's safety resurfaced. He sighed and softly rubbed his bristly chin against Joe's smooth chest. Safe for now, safe with him. But, tomorrow?

In the early hours of the morning, Levon was suddenly struck by an idea. A way to be in on the case, not rock the boat, but stay close to or even with Joe. Meant he'd need to arrange a visit with a friend of theirs. He hadn't thought of 'Vonnie' in a while and of Cory, their relatively new friend, who could conjure 'Vonnie' up out of thin air as far as Levon was concerned.

Cory had been a stranger when he and Joe had been assigned to investigate some brutal homicides among the transvestites in Rawlings Street district. The manager of the Double-M had recommended him. With the help of Cory's expertise, Levon had been transformed into 'Vonnie,' a very convincing female. So convincing that both he and Joe had been tempted to have 'Vonnie' pay another visit to their lives but had never acted on the whim. Now it might turn out to be Levon's access to Hepplewhites.

*********

Levon called Cory as soon as he could, about mid-morning, while Joe was shaving. The younger man had readily agreed once Levon explained why he needed the help. So, now, with Joe at the Club, getting ready for the evening's entertainment, Levon was at Cory's, getting ready as well.

He'd been greeted by the irrepressible Cory already dressed in his usual cross-dressing style, looking like a young fresh co-ed, in knee-high socks and short pleated skirt, a simple pull-over sweater of some soft fuzzy knit, pale pink. In this outfit, Cory became a she and fit herself perfectly into the part. 'She' was very convincing - which had been what convinced Levon and Joe to trust her the first time they'd gone to her.

"Le-vawn, darlin' - come on in, sweetness!" Cory's gushes always seemed so natural.

"Nice to see you, Cory," Levon stepped into the small parlor and looked around. Nothing really had changed since his last visit, with Joe. "Ah hope you got somethin' that will work for tonight?"

"Sweetie, I always have the perfect wardrobe for every occasion!" She smiled up at the taller Texan and wound an arm under one of his, saying, "Now just come on back with Cory and I'll fix you right up. Don't want to keep your Joe waiting!"

In her bedroom, Levon stripped without modesty. He'd learned to trust Cory. She'd already prepared the fake pasties that simulated breasts and now she helped Levon adhere them to his chest. Lundy had gone ahead and done the close shave on face, arms and legs before arriving - he knew the drill. Cory had been told what Levon would face - basically a roomful of women who would be much more interested in the male dancers than other members of the female audience. They would, however, probably object strenuously to any male attempting to crash the party in drag, so Levon had to be convincing enough to pass the ladies' inspections.

Pulling on sheer nylon pantyhose, the blonde watched as Cory went into her walk-in closet and pulled out a rather subdued dinner dress - brown gabardine with a slight sheen to it, like warm cinnamon. It was flicked with black specks of satin thread embroidery. The style was quite restrained, a shirt dress with plunging neckline to show off Vonnie's 'cleavage' - but not so deep that it became inappropriate for an evening of all female company. She helped him slip it on. The same-fabric belt cinched in to Levon's narrow waist and then the a-line skirt flared out suggesting hips that weren't in fact there.

"Nice, very nice, love, you look good enough for Joe to eat - but won't rile the ladies."

Levon's hands, now complete with glue-on rose-colored nails, smoothed down the surface of the skirt, wriggling hips slightly to see how it all worked. The hemline was a modest three inches above the knee. Levon put on the shoes he'd brought. He'd came armed with low heels in dark brown, as Cory had instructed in on the phone. He turned around, letting the skirt swing out slightly. Yep, looked good.

Once Cory finished giving Levon a quick shampoo, set and dry, she'd brushed out Levon's blonde curls into a soft bob around his face. Make-up for evening, again restrained though heavier than daytime make-up, was applied, Levon doing most of it by himself, with Cory hovering and providing coaching tips. Ah'm gettin' pretty good at this, Levon thought to himself, wonder iffn Ah should worry about thet.

When the two looked in the mirror in Cory's bedroom, standing side-by-side, both grinned. Two very all-American looking young women grinned back at them.

"Cory, you done saved mah life here. Don't think Ah could have stood by and let Joe go in alone." Lundy gave Cory a hug of thanks.

"You just be real careful, La-Vawn, and bring back your Joe safe and sound." Cory looked down for a moment, then up again. "Almost wish I was going along."

Levon frowned. "Miss Cory, this could end up being right dangerous."

She sighed, "Oh, I know, maybe another time." She rumaged through a drawer and pulled out a small purse. "Here, you'll need this."

When Levon headed out, his badge and peashooter were installed in the brown velvet evening bag that Cory had loaned him. He hugged her briefly in gratitude.

Joann was NOT gonna like it, but he was NOT gonna let Joe go in there tonight, er eny night, without him. That was all there was to it.

**********

Joe stood at the wings of the stage, watching Marty gyrate to some jungle beat, already down to his trousers and undershirt. In the next few moments, as he bounced and twisted close to the front row, the shirt slid up and off and disappeared into the crowd. Joe swallowed hard, he'd just spotted his HPD back up - three of the Major Crimes Unit female detectives. Lieutenant Joanne Beaumont, Annie Hartung, and Carol O'Brien all crowded at a tiny round table in the front row.

In casual evening wear, the three women looked great and were all moving to the music, Carol looking the loosest. Annie, in her wheelchair, was clapping her hands in obvious enjoyment, Beaumont looked least comfortable with the whole thing. She was sitting there with eyes wide and shoulders stiff, even if her fingers were tapping time to the music's beat. That's my lieutenant, Joe thought fondly, she's too much the 'boss' to relax when one of her men or women was under the gun. LaFiamma had felt a strong respect for her since the day he'd met her. Even at her lowest ebb, when a juvie shooting had come back to haunt her and he thought she might not be able to handle the job anymore, even then, she'd been on top of things. Ended up saving his life.

Yeah, glad she's out there. Carol, too. O'Brien had saved his and Lundy's bacon a couple of times herself. Legs is a tough cop. She may joke around a bit, but she's there when things get tough. Tough lady herself.

Annie, well, Annie was like a mother hen, he sometimes thought, which was kind of nice since most all his real family, 'ceptin' Levon of course, were back up in Chicago. But, when she needed to be strong, she was iron. He'd seen that, too. Yep, three tough, strong HPD cops - good back up.

But, he still missed his partner. Oh, Levon, damn, it feels cold out here on my own, without you here to back me up. Letting the curtain drop back in place, Joe leaned against the side wall of the stage wing and closed his eyes, taking deep centering breaths. Don't think. Don't think about all the eyes that are gonna be on you out there, he told himself. Don't think about the hands. Just do it. AND keep your eyes open, someone was out to get the Phantom dancers...had already done in two. Just...just do your job.

He opened his eyes as Marty brushed by him, panting and sweating despite being naked down to his g-string. Damn. LaFiamma heard Sue's throaty voice announcing Joe's act and then the opening chords of his Phantom music, the heavy beat already so strong it seemed to shake the floor beneath his feet. He picked up the long stem red rose that Sue had sent back for him to use as a prop. He swallowed hard and pushed away from the wall, then pivoted and walked out on the stage, the walk changing from his usual loping stride to a more sensuously suggestive glide as his body seemed to automatically pick up the beat of the music. The lights were very bright, nearly blinding him after the dim lighting in the wings. His habitual actions of checking cuffs and collar became dance movements as women's voices began to ping in the background, cheering and catcalls vying for his attention.

He struck a pose blindly, then let the beat of the music vibrate through his body, allowing his body to respond, to tremble and then shift, then he was moving. He let himself flow with the sounds, like his dance classes back at college. He tried not to think about his fellow officers watching him. All those other women, strangers watching him, his body.

Women's voices were calling for him to take it off, take it all off. He put the rose in his teeth, let his body sway and writhe to the music as he began to undue the cravat, letting the ends of soft white silk flow down the front of the dark gray shirt, rippling with his movements, just as the double capes swirled and rose in billows when he leapt to the side.

His eyes were beginning to adjust to the bright lights. He raked them across the front row, checking on the positions of his fellow cops at the front row table. Then he froze. Absolutely still. Just past Carol, who was now coming into focus, in a chair pulled up to the next table but facing directly toward the stage, toward him, was...Vonnie. Oh, my god, LEVON! Joe just couldn't move. The music continued to pound in the background, but as he continued to stand there, half-crouched as he'd been coming out of a wide slashing sweep, the voices died down to silence for him. Then it was just the music and Levon...Vonnie...sitting there with his - her eyes locked with his.

Joe swore he could hear his own heart's beat, louder than the music. It seemed like forever. Then she blinked those gorgeous brown eyes of hers and gave a tiny toss of her soft golden curls and he was lost again, falling in love all over again. Damn. The world shrank to him and Vonnie. Her long legs did a high, slow kick as she crossed them, the lights reflecting on the nylons. This was Slow Texas Flirting. Levon had teased Joe once in the privacy of their bedroom with such tantalizing touch-me-not posturings, heating his blood to boil, then relenting and laughingly hugging Joe, turning them both around the room in easy, liquid dance moves whilst whispering of this southern women's way of charming a fellow into their beds.

Joe recognized her movements, the siren call in the slow, provocative almost stylized shifts of her body. And he was moving toward her. She was doing this on purpose. He knew it and didn't care. He stopped at the edge of the low stage, directly in front of her. Ignoring the crowd that no longer intimidated him. He took the rose from his mouth and brought the only partially opened blood red bloom to his lips. He kissed it and, holding it by the bottom end of the long stem, deliberately tossed it to her. She had no trouble catching it. The whole exchange seemed to take place in slow motion, other hands that grabbed for the flying bloom hadn't a chance - it was destined for his Vonnie and she caught it easily, bringing it up to her face to sniff delicately, then hold against her pursed lips, a small smile playing there as she half closed her eyes, tipping her head down and watching him.

Joe rose up and began to sway again, letting the capes flow one way, then the other, gradually drifting across the stage in one direction, then back in the other, almost pacing. Ending up centered in front of his Vonnie again. His eyes never leaving her for long. It was so easy now, he was making love to her with his body, dancing to her his love. She was responding, too, arching her back and letting her shoulders toss to the music, to his moves. She was trailing the soft red rose bud's petalled form down her throat and letting it glide up and down the swell of one sweet mound, then the other, her cleavage so real he felt the need to lay his head down there and lose himself in her.

It took all his willpower to back up on the stage and shift to one side. He pulled the cravat's white silk free and let it trail behind him momentarily, then dangle in front of another table of eager women, two tables down. Several grabbed for the scarf, one, a redhead, snatching it with a triumphant crow.

But Joe was already yards away, letting the black cape come free now and drag behind him until a dishwater blonde near that wing of the stage half crawled up on the boards to claw it away from him. He flashed his LaFiamma smile in a wide spin, as a series of audible gasps of appreciation rang out in the crowd. He had them now. Though, the only one he really wanted was his Vonnie, sitting there so saucy and sexy and hot.

The red under cape was like a cloud floating behind his shoulders as he raced across the stage and leaped to a sliding crouch, slanting a look from the edge of his eyes to catch sight of her again. He pulled the red cape around, wrapping himself in secrecy, his white mask making him indeed look like a vision from another world. Then he spun free of this cape too, and it floated out high over the audience, settling down to be speared by someone in the third row back.

Women were on their feet now. He could vaguely hear them clapping to the beat, chanting something. He flew to Vonnie's eyes, his body an arrow to fall at her feet, then slide back until he was arching up on heels of feet and hands, pelvis toward the ceiling. Someone screamed and several other screams followed, not of fear, but of passion. He flexed his pectorals and the flimsy shirt popped open, buttons flying. He sank to his ass, grinding it into the stage floor, splaying his legs wantonly. He let the shirt sag free of his shoulders, the slouch hat dropping to the stage floor behind him. He shook his chestnut hair free, his rebellious wing of dark hair dropping familiarly down over the front of the stark white mask transforming it into a living face of eerie soulless pain. The Phantom lived at that moment, the shirt trailing from his upper arms, his bare shoulders rising from the nest of dark fabric, his chest slick with sweat and the body lotion.

The electricity connecting him to Vonnie was so real to him that he felt plugged in, energized with hot, throbbing blood-fused sex. She sat there, head back now, sweet full neck exposed, waiting for his tongue. He flicked it out through the opening of the mask. Women screamed again. He ignored all but his lover. Only she mattered. The rest were but shadows. Flickering and unreal.

He rolled forward to his feet in a single fluid motion, leaving the shirt in a puddle on the floor behind him. Kicking one leg straight out he went down in a squat and threw himself into a spin, hooking shirt and hat with the point of his extended leg and foot, then letting them fly free into the crowd of seething women surrounding the stage. He let the leg touch down, ending in a full split for one eye-opening moment, then swung his legs together with a hip thrusting action that caused two women to drop down panting on the stage, arms out to reach for his elusive, pulsing body.

He rolled in the opposite direction, but like a magnetic compass, his body returned to point at his Vonnie. She was standing now, gripping the chair she'd been in, holding it like a shield. He used his toes to push off the thin boots and flip them to other women in another direction and then he was on his feet, wearing only the tight black satin pants and the white mask, the rest of his body slick and shining under the strobe-ing lights.

He stretched up letting his muscles play against each other, twisting his torso to show her his body was hers. As he completed the twist, dipping and turning and facing her once more, she had moved her hands to her hips and was sliding them downward, slowing and deliberately. He echoed her movements from the stage, moving with her as if they were one. Suddenly she drew the chair back around and sat again, hands going to the sides of the seat, wrists caging her thighs.

And Joe went wild, fingers clawing, locking onto the slippery black fabric and wrenching it free of his hips, pulling forward with violence as if he could throw himself with it. The tear-away pants gave with a loud ripping sound, parting at both side seams and pulling free of him. He let his hands complete the forward movement and the thin heap of cloth landed within inches of Vonnie's pointed brown shoes, her long, shapely legs fine in the reflected stage lights. A woman seated near her grabbed the fabric and then another, and they both faded back into a tugging war in the dark oblivion of the crowd.

Joe stood rocking on his feet, wearing the white mask and his g-string, arms spread wide, looking crucified on the stage in the narrowing spotlight. Slowly he brought one hand up to the mask and hooked fingers under it. Then he ripped it free and threw it wide where it soared toward the table next to the HPD women. A short, brown-haired woman reached up, almost without thought, and caught it as her friends cried, "MARIE! You got it!" She flashed them a grin and then the lights shifted and Joe was strutting to the music, his barely covered genitals thrust forward as he took a turn along the edge of the stage, women surging up now, shoving paper money into the g-string. He let them, dipping and weaving his way as if an acrobat on a high wire that traced the stage's rim.

His eyes didn't leave Vonnie, until he was past her and had to finish the sweep to the far side of the stage. Even without looking, he knew her eyes were on him, keeping him safe, sane through this grim ritualized offering of his body to the masses. She was letting him do this without losing his private and most cherished love for her and hers for him. When he'd crossed the full width of the stage, he looked back to her, to where she now stood with the others, but without calling out, without gestures, just stood, sending her whole being to him, arming him with her love. Her deep brown eyes held him safe and he fled from the stage, knowing she would be waiting for him. And it was over. For tonight.

***********

The minute LaFiamma disappeared behind the curtain, the music changed and a set of new male dancers emerged, ready to give the women new thrills. In the front row of the audience, the three HPD women police officers had dismissed the action on the stage in favor of a confrontation with the 'woman' standing next to them. She was tall and blonde and striking...and they all recognized who 'she' was though neither Beaumont nor O'Brien had seen her in some time, and Hartung had never seen her, only heard about her.

"Vonnie!" Beaumont's voice was low but carrying. "What are you doing here?"

Brown eyes flashed with pride and passion as the tall 'woman' faced them, gripping tightly to her shoulder slung evening bag. "Where my pardner goes, I go," she stated firmly in a low, husky contralto. She began to turn away, but Beaumont reached out a hand and grabbed her wrist.

"I think we need to have a private talk, Vonnie." She sounded angry.

"Not now, Joann," the blonde yanked her wrist free and backed away slightly, bumping into one of the many women crowding close to the footlights of the stage beside them. "Joe's still back there, he ain't home safe yet."

With a sigh of defeat, Beaumont nodded and motioned for O'Brien to go with the blonde who had already started for the side exit closest to the outside stage door. She turned to Annie Hartung who'd watched the exchange with wide eyes. "Was that...?"

"Yes." In no mood for a discussion that couldn't happen here anyway, Beaumont assisted the redhead, pushing the wheelchair in a tiny circle so that they could exit back out through the crowd.

*********

Levon pushed his way through the crowd of women, all with eyes fixed on the stage, toward the exit, aware of Carol "Legs" O'Brien following in hiz wake. Got to get to Joey. Make shore he's alright. Worried and intent, he fought his way through the crowds. Reached the side emergency exit door and slipped out into the night. He held the door for Carol, who squeezed out after him. They shut the door together.

Standing in the alley, Carol looked Vonnie up and down. Damn hard to believe she was really Levon. Legs had never seen anything like the transformation that Lundy managed. She'd met him as "Vonnie" when he'd reported in to the station while undercover on a case a few weeks earlier. It had been incredible then, but she'd not had a chance to see up close and personal - like now. Even knowing, standing there beside him, she realized she couldn't tell that this was a man. Then Levon spoke.

"Legs, I want to git up into the back. They ain't gonna want any females back there, Ah may need you to run interference for me."

Hearing Levon's usual tenor come out of Vonnie was surreal. Carol nodded. "Let's do it."

They made their way back down the alley to the stage door, up the stairs, little better than a high grade fire escape. Levon dragged the door open, finding no one standing guard. Perhaps gate crashers weren't a big problem after all. Moving into the better lit areas ahead, the two found men in street clothes heading their way, each man toting a gym bag. No sign of Joe LaFiamma among them.

Coming to a halt near the entrance to the large dressing room for the dancers, both stopped to look around. It was nearing the finale now on stage, only a few dancers lingered in the wings awaiting their turns in the spotlights. The heavy rock music now playing permeated the entire backstage area, throbbing with a bass that seemed to control one's pulse. Coming around a corner they nearly walked into three men huddled together. Two were dressed in normal street clothes, for working at the shipping docks or rail terminal. The third, at first stare naked, was Joe. Still only clad in his g-string, he was pinned to the wall by the other two. Carol and Levon ducked back and waited listening as one of the heavies spoke threateningly.

"The last shipment was short, buddy, way short. You think Mr. Kline wouldn't notice you helped yourself to some of his nose-candy?" There was a dull, smacking sound and Joe grunted but didn't speak. Levon lurched toward the corner, restrained by Carol.

A new voice spoke now. "We want to know where you hid the rest of the shipment, dance boy, or you're gonna need a new career 'cause none of the ladies want to see some crippled scarred feller dancin' around up there on stage."

Joe's voice sounded bubbly, hoarse. "You got the wrong man. I'm new, this is my first night dancing here. I don't know what you're talking about."

The first voice returned, angry now. "You're the Phantom, ain't you? Then you're our guy."

The second one voice chimed in, "Mr. Kline is givin' you until tomorrow noon. Call him or we'll be callin' on you." Both Carol and Levon heard the thuds and a light cough from LaFiamma. Then the two men they'd seen strode around the corner and past them unknowingly, heading to the exit.

Carol spoke quickly and quietly, "Levon, I'll follow them, you better check on Joe." She disappeared in a swirl of skirt and competence, slipping out the exit just beats after the two thugs.

Levon didn't wait for more encouragement. He was around the corner in moments. Joe was there, on his knees, arms wrapped around his middle, head down, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. He was having trouble breathing, hunched over coughing up more blood.

"Joe!" Levon was down beside hiz pardner instantly, putting an arm around the curled shoulders. "Easy, boy, easy. Can you stand?"

LaFiamma looked up in relief at the sound of Levon's voice. Seeing 'Vonnie,' he smiled and spoke haltingly. "Yeah. Just - got - the wind - knocked - outta me." He paused and panted as the breathing evened out. "Glad you were here t'night, Levon. I was scared out there. Don't think I could have done it without you." He slowly straightened, let Lundy slide an arm under one of his and around his back, helping him to stand up.

Levon touched the flecks of red blood from the corner of Joe's mouth. "They hurt you, Joe. We need to get you looked at."

The brunette smiled, licking away the blood as he limped closer to Vonnie's solid form. He put his hands around her tiny waist and tugged her up against him. "I'll be okay, Vonnie, just roughed up a bit." He nuzzled her neck and spoke with head still lowered. "Did you hear them?"

Levon shook back his hair and shivered at the familiar touch on his neck. "Yeah. I heard. Sounds like it could be a problem for the case. Kline's a big time drug lord. But for some reason, he don't know that the first AND the second Phantom are history."

Joe breathed in deeply, more easily now. He put a kiss on the wide forehead presented. "And if he don't know, then we have two different crimes, two different sets of criminals - the drug traffickers and the murderers."

"And part of a missing shipment that coulda been the motive for one of the murders."

"But unlikely to be the motive for both."

************

"Joe?" Marty's voice was husky in the background. "Didn't you know that women aren't allowed back here?"

Joe and Levon pushed apart in startled guilt. Levon stepped back into Joe's shadow just as LaFiamma moved toward Marty and slightly in front of Levon's 'Vonnie.' "Marty? What business is it of yours?" Joe could sound very aggressive when he wanted to, darkly dangerous, his voice was smoky.

The other dancer, already in street clothes, stiffened and backed up a few steps. Clearly, being nearly naked did not intimidate the newest dancer to Hepplewhites. "None, none," he stuttered quickly, voice going squeaky for a second. Blushing furiously, Marty made his way past the two undercover cops, turning to fire a parting shot at the stage door. "But you may find yourself out of a job, if Sue sees your little trick there." With that, Marty dove out the door, his tight jeans and tee shirt a smear of black disappearing into the night.

Levon put a hand on Joe's shoulder, coaxing him to turn back around. "Joe, he's right. Now's I know that you're alright, I'll wait outside for you."

LaFiamma growled, angry eyes slipping toward the door that Marty had just fled through. "I want you here where I can see you. It's not safe out there for a lady."

'Vonnie' broke into a wide sweet smile. "Joey, Carol is already out there shadowing those to heavies from Kline. Half o'Houston's female population is millin' around out there, waitin' for a glimpse of the dancers leaving. I'll be fine." S/he gave Joe another swift kiss and backed away, making shooing gestures. "You jest get yourself decent and come on out. I'll be waitin' for you."

Out on the street, Marty had slowed to a stop, resentful and hurt. Another Phantom, another cheat. Couldn't he tell that Marty was his destiny? Playing up to some chippy, he should know he was better'n that. The dancer tossed his long curly black hair back, hissing his fury. Now he'd have to die like the other Phantoms. Marty had no choice.

**********

Back at their ranch, both men relaxed in front of the fire, each changed into comfortable jeans and tee shirts. 'Vonnie' and the Phantom could wait for a few days. It was late, very late on Sunday night. Hepplewhites offered shows Thursday through Sunday evenings, so they had a few days off from Joe's undercover job now. By tacit agreement, they knew that Vonnie would be at each of Joe's performances from now on, until this case was closed. Joe raised his arm across the back of the couch where they rested and Levon tucked his own shoulder in, his head coming to rest on Joe's heart as the brunette's arm lowered to encircle Levon's shoulders.

Levon had already decided to 'inadvertently' let the other dancers know that he and Joe were an 'item' so's he could slip backstage in his regular clothes to see Joe before the performances. Help him dress, keep him calm and focused - act as his undeclared body guard. Ah'm not gonna lose Joe to catch a murderer, there had to be other ways to do that. Blowing his other 'cover' was a small price to pay. May never get called on it, neither. No reason for outsiders to know that he and Joe weren't play-acting when they showed up as a couple at the hall.

Since the original plan had called for only Joe on the case, none of the men at Hepplewhites knew of Levon, as himself or as Vonnie - except that the one called Marty had seen 'Vonnie' with Joe that first night. Sue Gorman had met only Joe. She knew he was undercover as a cop to try to bait the murderer and track the drug trafficking. She didn't know about Levon...or Vonnie. Both men decided it was best to tell no one except Beaumont about their change of plans that would now include Joe's partner. Joe placed a kiss on Levon's blonde head and whispered softly, "Glad we're gonna be back together as partners on this one."

Levon blinked lazily, the heat of the fire, the warm body next to him. He was feeling drowsy and content. Soon enough to deal with tomorrow and the days that would follow. He shifted closer to Joe. "Yep."

********

Monday morning found them confronting Joanne Beaumont, their boss, in the privacy of her office. "Levon, I just don't think it's wise that you continue to show up there. You may scare off the murderer - which means he or she will simply wait it out, or you may blow our case on the drugs."

Levon looked angry as he opened his mouth to answer, but Joe swiftly spoke up from his position standing behind his partner. "Lieutenant, no one will know he's a cop. Only Sue knows that I'm one and we won't even tell HER about Lundy. She'll just think I couldn't resist bringing my 'honey' on the job."

"Your what?" Levon's anger had turned to shock at Joe's word. He'd twisted his face around to look up at his usually shy friend, shy at least when it came to their relationship.

Joe grinned down at him good-naturedly. "Lundy, whether you show up in drag as Vonnie or in street clothes as a cowboy, they are ALL gonna assume we're lovers."

Beaumont leaned back in her chair studying her men. They'd lost track of where they were and were ignoring her. Of course, she'd known that they had become more than partners, had become lovers in fact, sometime ago. They'd been together 'that way' now for well over a year. It had not interfered with their work at all, if anything, it had enhanced it. The case that had resulted in the invention of 'Vonnie' was a good example. If they hadn't been lovers as well as partners, she wasn't sure if either of them would have survived. Granted, she'd been shocked when she'd seen 'Vonnie' turn up again last night, but when she thought about it, she really wasn't surprised. And Levon hadn't blown Joe's cover. He'd actually learned more about the drug angle on the case, when the thugs attacking Joe had revealed Kline's involvement. Her thoughts jumped rapidly as she watched LaFiamma's and Lundy's moment of silent communion.

Clearing her throat, she spoke again. "Lundy, LaFiamma. Ok, Lundy can go in, act as a boyfriend and protect him. But you're not likely to have much need for that before Thursday night's show, meanwhile you have the connection to Kline to follow." It was rather sweet how both men blushed when she'd said boyfriend.

Joe LaFiamma nodded his gratitude at her but added, "Well, no show until Thursday, but I was told we had to report in on Wednesday afternoon for rehearsals and choreography coaching."

Beaumont thought for a moment. "That might be a good time for the others to meet Levon, see him hanging around with you. Then there's less likely to be any questions on a show night, when we don't want the murderer to be alerted to anything."

Levon sat forward, feeling Joe's hands come to rest on his back, knuckles lightly rubbing his shoulders. "Ah got some ideas about Gerry Kline. He ain't been keeping too close tabs on the Phantom iffn he thinks it's still the same man. And he wants Joe to call'im today."

"What do you have in mind?" Beaumont respected Lundy, he was a very smart cop, despite his laid back style. Levon Lundy had solved a lot of crime before LaFiamma arrived on the scene, and since their partnership, he still often took the lead in connecting clues, getting them to the answer - and the perpetrators.

"Joe calls, sets up a meet, he goes in." Levon's voice was tight with tension. "Ah go in as back up, but not visible." He paused, clearly orchestrating a number of thoughts. "We'll need another MCU team and some uniforms. We go for entrapment, then push for confession."

"Sounds almost too easy," Joe remarked.

"It might work. Do it." Beaumont stood. "But be careful, Kline's been a known trafficker for years and we've never been able to pin anything on him - never even been able catch him with his hands dirty." She frowned. "Joey, I think you'll need to wear a wire for this one. Levon, how about Joe-Bill and Esteban as backup?"

"Sounds good, Joanne, and thanks." Lundy stood, hat in hand, feeling Joe's hands drop away. Always felt a bit of a chill when Joe wasn't touching him, want to go to him now but this ain't the place nor time.

She nodded to them and watched as the two men turned and left, Joe trailing Levon by one pace. They were her secret weapon, had been for years. A tough case? She just had to point them at it to guarantee it got solved. Hope this one doesn't burn them, it's going awfully close to home for them.

********

In the end, Joe's conversation on the telephone was brief, Kline wanted to see him face to face which was exactly what the Houston detectives had been hoping for. The meeting was set for that afternoon, for a small bar in the 4th Ward.

Holding his button-down shirt open, Joe waited patiently as Esteban used adhesive tape to attach the wires to his chest. Levon had gone to get a couple of bullet proof vests from armament. Kline was very dangerous and everyone was making sure that all precautions were taken. Joe-Bill set up the monitor on a desk and nodded to his partner. Gutierrez tested the tiny microphone right at Joe's clavicle. After a moment, Joe-Bill nodded, clicking off the monitor. "Works fine."

"Okay, Joe, you can close the shirt, it's done." Esteban backed up to give LaFiamma room. "You be very careful, my friend, these are bad men."

LaFiamma's lips quirked into a small smile. "That's why I got a -"

"- pardner," Levon finished stepping up behind him and handing him one of the protective vests, lowering his own over his shoulders.

Joe grinned back at Lundy and accepting the vest. He reopened his shirt, dropping it to a chair and put the vest on. As he was fastening the side Velcro closures, Levon said, "Esteban, whyn't you boys test that wire again now he's got the vest on."

Gutierrez nodded to McCandless who flicked the monitor back on while his partner spoke briefly into the microphone. After a moment, they both turned to face the other team as Joe-Bill once again turned off the monitor. "Works fine," McCandless said casually, trying to sound reassuring. He knew his friends were tense about this one.

Final arrangements were quickly made, Lundy producing a small black canvas bag and putting LaFiamma's twin holstered guns in it. "I'll have it along, in case you need to get armed in a hurry."

Joe could hear the worry in Levon's voice. He tugged up one of his trouser legs, revealing his hideaway derringer. "I'm never completely unarmed, Lundy, don't you worry about that."

"Good." The blonde stood tall. Looked at the others, then at his watch. "Let's go."

********

Mr. Gerry Kline sat alone in a back booth at the quiet mid-afternoon bar. The shadowed corner hid his eyes. The two thugs who'd rousted Joe both stood at the bar counter, though neither had a drink in front of him. The bartender, a slender black man, stood well back in the corner farthest from his customers, nervously polishing glassware.

Lundy had gone in first. They'd decided it would be better if it didn't look like he was following Joe. He laid his Stetson on the bar top and asked for a short glass of Bourbon. He could feel them watching him, then one of the men there shifted slightly, he could see out of the corner of his eye as the man looked to the dark corner, then shrugged and settled back down at the bar. Musta got some signal to let it be. Levon put both elbows on the bar and slumped forward, the disconsolate afternoon drunk to perfection.

It was a good five minutes later that Joe slipped into the bar, managing to look nervous and tentative. Lundy almost snorted into his drink. The day LaFiamma was nervous... He settled for raising his head slightly so's he could watch in the mirror behind the bar.

Joe came into the bar quietly, trying to appear non-threatening, maybe even a little scared. After all, he was the innocent here. He just had to convince Kline of that, string him along, maybe get him to say something incriminating. He took in the sight of his partner slumped at the bar, Levon's hat to the side, a black bag looking forlorn at his feet. Then there were those two clowns who'd tried to shake him down at the stage door to Hepplewhite's. Joe paused.

Both of the thugs had turned at his arrival and now stood at the bar, their elbows resting on the counter behind them. The taller of two, geesh - they were both huge, motioned to the back of the bar with his chin. Message clear.

Joe returned the look, ignoring Lundy, and walked back to the dark booth where he could make out the form of a seated man. He stood at the booth and waited.

"You are the dancer?" The voice was cultured, but curt.

"Yeah."

"Sit down." A hand ventured out of the dark and waved to the bench on the other side of the booth.

Without hesitation, Joe slid into the booth.

Levon swallowed, feeling a tingle of nerves. Damn, wish this was over. I don't like this at all, no matter all the back up in the world outside the door, they were in here alone. A lot could happen before help could get inside. He could see that both men beside him now had their attention on the back of the room, he'd obviously been dismissed as part of the scenery. Coming in first had definitely been a good idea.

Lundy shifted slowly, until his body was facing the men beside him. He made no attempt to reach his gun. Too soon. Gotta give LaFiamma time to hook the fish. Wish I coulda had a'earjack on that conversation, but someone might have noticed the wire from his ear, they couldn't afford to make the waiting men nervous or suspicious. So Levon stood there reading the body language and expressions on the two bodyguards, enforcers, unable to tell much about what was happening with his partner in the back. This made him very uncomfortable.

"Dancer, my men tell me you claim to be new to your job. That you don't know about my property." It was a statement and a question.

Joe had his hands on the table in front of him, out in plain sight, and he twisted them now, trying to look convincingly nervous when all he wanted to really do was haul that bad ass out of the booth and body slam him against a wall, beat the truth out of him. Not gonna happen. He ducked his head, answering, "That was my first night at Hep's. I ain't been in town long. The other dancers told me that a couple of them had died, ones using the costume I was told to wear."

"The Phantom."

"Yeah."

"Someone over there has a great deal of my property, dancer, and I want it back. I was using the Phantom dancer as the go-between."

"I really am sorry, but no one told me nothing about any of this." Joe tried to make himself sound sincere. "What's this property you're talking about? I can look around, maybe see for myself where it is - help you get it back?"

"No." The low voice was sounding controlled and angry. "Who hired you?"

"The manager, Sue Gorman."

"Ah, Ms. Gorman, hum?" Silence, then, "Perhaps that's who..."

There was a pause, so far Joe couldn't see that he had anything that would help them take down Kline. The man was very clever, reserved. "Just tell me what to look for."

Kline leaned forward across the table separating them. One ruby-ringed hand shot out and snagged Joe's shirt collar, yanking him half across the table. "My property is MY business, punk. Now, did Ms. Gorman, or anyone else make a suggestion to you about accepting merchandise or distributing it?"

"M-m-merchandise?" Joe thought the stutter was rather artistic. "I don't know what you mean."

"Coke, dammit, cocaine!" The hand holding LaFiamma's collar shook him. "Somewhere, most probably still there, is a half-kilo of shit. MY shit."

"Man, I don't do that stuff!" Joe tried to pull back.

It was a mistake. His shirt ripped open when Kline refused to let go. Enough of the listening device was visible, and the vest, to give him away. "Jesus! Wired!" Kline flung LaFiamma away from him and scrambled out of his seat.

His sudden exodus alerted his men who started forward. "It's a cop!" The cry wasn't necessary, Lundy had already figured out that LaFiamma's cover had been blown. His hand dropped to his still sheathed Colt and he pulled it free of his jacket.

"Hold it right there! Houston PD!" Levon shouted as the two heavies had started back toward where Joe was diving out of the booth now, heading for the floor. Kline had a gun out and fired, the shot going wild as he spun for the rear exit.

Joe fired back, his satisfaction at seeing the drug lord jerk with the bullet was short-lived as he heard Levon's shout followed by more shots behind him. He twisted in time to see Lundy falter against the bar, the two men turning with drawn weapons at his shout and firing instantly.

Both bullets hit Levon squarely on the chest. Joe knew the vest would protect him but it still would hurt like hell. He surged to his feet, "Weapons down, now!"

He only had his little derringer that held one more bullet in the chamber. Clearly he was not impressing these guys. They stared at him, then one fired, missing as LaFiamma rolled toward the wall. There were two more loud shots from Lundy's Colt, Joe could always recognize that big boom. He looked up. Both of the thugs were on the floor, dead or unconscious. Lundy was leaning heavily against the bar, his Colt sagging from his hand.

"Lundy!" Joe was up and running. He skidded to a stop in front of his partner. "You ok?"

Levon nodded slowly. "Feel like Ah been kicked by a Brahma bull," he commented before passing out into his pardner's waiting arms, his gun dropping to the ground.

Esteban appeared at the end of the back hall, near Kline's body, just as Joe-Bill and what seemed like an unending crowd of uniforms appeared at the front door. The cowering bartender stood now, hands in the air, looking scared and lost.

Joe had his hands full of Lundy at that moment, the cowboy slipping toward the floor. He stooped enough to catch Levon under the legs and swing him up into his arms, then turned toward McCandless who was checking on the two thugs' bodies. "Call an ambulance!"

Gutierrez, having finished looking over Kline's corpse, stood and answered, holstering his own weapon. "Already on the way, LaFiamma. We called it in as soon as we heard shots fired."

McCandless stood now too. "You boys are good shots. 'course now we don't have no one left to question."

LaFiamma, who was lowering Lundy's inert form to a table, said, "Don't worry. Kline said plenty and it all went in the wire."

**********

Sitting in the recovery room, off the main ER at the downtown hospital, Joe watched Levon stiffly rebutton the front of his shirt. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Ah been bunged up worse'n this..."

"I know, I know, 'kicked by a Brahma bull,'" Joe finished for him, shaking his head.

Lundy grinned as he slid off the high examination table and on to his feet, trying to snap shut the cuffs of his shirt. "That's right."

Joe stood, pushing aside Levon's fumbling fingers to fix the cuff closures himself. He took up the two long fingered hands in his and brought them to his mouth, kissing them gently. In a harsh whisper, he said, "Levon, you could have been killed."

Lundy pulled his hands free to grasp LaFiamma by the shoulders and squeeze hard. "Ah wasn't. Ah'm here and Ah'm fine."

"That's not the word the doc used."

"Ah've lived with cracked ribs afore. Ain't gonna slow me down none."

"Maybe you should stay here at the hospital, overnight at least?" Joe sounded doubtful.

"That what you want?" Levon leaned forward to whisper throatily in one close ear.

Joe shivered and shook his head. "No. I want you home with me."

"Well, then." Levon turned and lifted his holstered Colt from where it lay on the table beside him. Moving slowly, he began to unfold the leather straps. Joe made an impatient sound and took it from him.

"Here." With quick practiced ease, he slid the gear up and onto Levon's back helping him adjust the harness.

Sweeping his hat up and onto his head, Lundy smiled at his pardner. It hurt but he'd been truthful. It'd hurt that bad or worse after a toss at the rodeo. 'Course that had been years ago and he wasn't a spring chicken no more. But, he wasn't gonna let Joe finish this case alone. The coke was still out there somewheres and so was a murderer. Nope, he was gonna stick closer than a burr to a saddle blanket. "Let's get outta here, Joe."

His pardner sighed and nodded, his own guns once more strapped on, he picked up the empty black bag they'd been in and led the way out of the hospital.

***********

Tuesday passed with reports to do on the meet with Kline and the shootings. Then they worked on background checks again on all the dancers at Hepplewhite's and, at Joe's suggestion, began doing one on Sue Gorman. Suddenly lights started going on and bells ringing for both of them.

Gorman, a.k.a. Susan McKenzie, a.k.a. Sarah Dodge, had been around. They were both amazed that she'd had the guts to 'work' with the police on the undercover case. Looked like she might be part of the case herself. A con man of long standing, she'd a long Federal rap sheet and several outstanding warrants.

They took their findings in to Beaumont. "Appears she's our target after all, Joanne," Levon said after spreading out the printouts and outlining their conclusions.

Beaumont held one of the longer reports from Maryland, studying it for a moment. "Yeah, I see what you mean. She nearly got away with it too. She must have been using the Phantom dancer, probably the first one, as her courier to Kline. She's been mixed up in drugs before according to this, but only as a minor player."

"Guess she wants to make the big leagues," Joe put in.

Beaumont dropped the report to her desk and sat back in her chair, looking at each of her two men in turn. "Ok, how do you want to handle this?"

The men looked at each other. As always, Joanne could almost see the messages passing silently between them. She waited.

Lundy spoke, he usually did as senior member of the team, "She's got that coke there probably. Iffn she was smart, she'd a dumped it by now, but Ah don't think she's that smart."

Joe chimed in, "She might have figured that with the Phantom murders, she better lay low for a while, keep the stuff and wait it out."

"Mebbe." Levon stretched his arms over his head, easing the pressure on his chest where the strapping of bandages supported his ribs tightly. "And, Ah don't think she had anything to do with killing those dancers. The first one was probably her ticket into those big leagues Joe was speaking about."

LaFiamma had noticed the faint look of pain on Lundy's face as he'd stretched, put a hand on the middle of his friend's back and began to rub firmly. He kept his face turned toward the lieutenant, however. "I gotta go back in tomorrow."

Reluctantly, Lundy nodded his agreement. "Yep. Only way. Joe's just gonna have to be looking out for Gorman as well as the killer." He stared at Beaumont with resolve. "Ah'm gonna be there with him, Joanne. She don't know Ah'm a cop. Ah'll just play up the 'honey' angle and nose around."

Joe burst out laughing and even Beaumont smiled despite the danger her men were about to face. "The 'honey' angle?" Joe sputtered.

Levon flashed him a look of irritation which melted into a smile as he realized just how ridiculous that sounded. "Yeah, Joe - ah, 'honey.'"

LaFiamma grinned, his laughter subsiding, and hunched over Lundy, forcing the smaller man down in his seat. Ignoring Beaumont, he breathed into Levon's face, murmuring, "You just be real careful, 'honey.'" Then kissed him, a quick wet peck on the lips, and ducked back up to face Beaumont with an amazingly innocent expression on his face.

"Joe!" Levon blinked in surprise at his pardner's move here in their workplace.

"Joe!" Beaumont's voice sounded rebuking, but her eyes twinkled. She continued, "You know better - save that for your home and off duty hours - and for this case."

"Oh," Joe said, wide eyes going to his partner, "I was just practicing."

**********
By Wednesday mid-morning, both LaFiamma and Lundy were feeling rested and ready. Lundy's ribs were still bothering him but it was a minor problem, and a long hot soak in their Jacuzzi at the Rawlings' apartment, followed by some hot loving had eased the muscles.

Dressed out in a pink scoop necked tee-shirt borrowed from Mitch, together with one of LaFiamma's fancy jackets, the sleeves rolled back, Levon slouched into their living room. Joe caught his breath at the sight of his lover looking so provocatively sexy. The blonde had added a couple of clip-on gold rings to one ear and was sporting a few of Joe's fine gold chains at his neck. He was wearing a pair of his good dress jeans, nary a hole or worn spot in sight. His ostrich-skin boot tips peaked out from under the stove-pipe jeans. The blonde hair, newly washed, had been blown dry to give it extra bounce and it curled mutinously around his head.

LaFiamma, who'd been doing some stretches in the clear space by their bay window in the living room, halted to stare. "Levon, 'honey', you better not go making eyes at any of the other dancers today." To Lundy's surprise, Joe's voice sounded serious, dangerous, full of - jealousy.

Shaking his head, he dropped down on their sofa. Carson, their Maine Coon, leapt up into his lap to sniff at him. Clearly, the cat didn't think this was Levon either. After a few quick, curious pokes, though, Carson evidently decided it was still Levon under all that and jumped back down to wander over by Joe. LaFiamma was standing there, still staring at Lundy bemusedly, his arms crossed. "Joe. It's just a cover."

Finally, LaFiamma relaxed and came over to sit beside his friend. "You do a good job on your covers, Levon."

"So Ah pass muster, huh?"

"I'd like to pass your - "

"JOE!" Levon wiggled out of LaFiamma's sudden two-armed grab, slipping up to stand over his pardner. "We got work to do. You're due at the hall in half an hour."

LaFiamma sighed theatrically. "Ok, ok." He reached out a hand. "Help me up?"

Levon took the hand, then thought to himself, 'fool, Joe don't need no help!' as Joey yanked him down into his lap. 'Course the boy can get himself up outta this sofa, Ah must be going slow in my head. Joe was cuddling him up now, lavishing kisses at Lundy's long neck. Levon struggled for a moment, then caved in, kissing back at whatever he could reach.

Their actions slowed and Joe just held Levon tightly, as if he'd never let him go. Then with a soft sound, he gently pushed his lover out of his lap. Levon staggered to his feet and looked down at the warm blue-gray eyes that stared back at him. "You ready now?"

"Yeah." Joe stood and kissed Levon's shoulder briefly, closing his eyes. "You are going to be careful."

"You too, Joe."

"Yeah."

********

"Oooo, tah, Joey, you got yourself a right sweet lookin' treat there, luv," cooed Kew, leaning over LaFiamma in the dressing room, ostensibly to grab a towel, but rubbing his body's heat against Joe's.

Joe ignored the blatant move, obviously once the other dancers saw Levon, they'd connected the dots and decided the two were lovers. That meant Joe was gay, which, in their hectic and often short-lived world, meant he was fair game. Lundy or no Lundy. The small English dancer stepped away with disappointment, the big brunette was clearly uninterested. Oh, well, back to his current 'friend,' Carob who was standing a few feet away, shooting daggers at LaFiamma with his eyes. The Brit grinned shamefacedly at the dark islander and walked over to drape himself around his lover, muttering apologies in one ear. Carob evidently found those acceptable because he hugged him back and they disappeared with giggles into the shadows of the large dressing room.

Levon, who'd been ready to kill Kew, relaxed back onto his heels. Joe watched him from the corner of one eye as he tied on the dance slippers he'd been handed for the rehearsal. "'Von, I ain't shopping, so relax." They'd agreed to use that name since some might have heard him call Levon 'Vonnie' on the Texan's other visit backstage. Even though he'd been in drag then, the dancers were used to seeing beneath each other's makeup so it was wise to plan for that.

The blonde had one hip up against the edge of the long makeup counter, where Joe was sitting on a stool. So far, Kew was the only one who'd tried to make a move. Marty, the dancer who sat at the next stool was studiously ignoring both men. He must still be put out at the way Joe had talked to him Sunday night, when he saw us in a clench backstage. He shrugged, the guy would survive, right now they had bigger fish to fry.

Gary, the choreographer for the Hep' dancers, had a meeting with the whole troupe on stage to start them with warm up exercises and a brief discussion of moves each dancer was using. The dance designer had seen Joe's premiere performance Sunday night and gave him some praise, but also asked him to stay after for some suggestions. For each of the others, he delivered brief critiques and comments - for Ted, he directed the tall lean man to try a few more mid-level moves, he tended to work only in the high and low ranges. Ted folded his arms, absorbing the ideas, nodding thoughtfully.

Joe had already figured out who among the dancers was gay from their reactions to Levon's quiet presence. Some just shrugged it off, clearly not interested. But others - like Kew, like Marty, reacted more directly, sending messages that let him know they swung that way, too. Levon had been circumspect, but Gorman had come in and seen him. She'd come over right away and asked Joe about his companion.

"Joe? Is this your partner?"

LaFiamma had looked directly into the woman's eyes and lied. "Uh, not like I think you mean, Sue. Von is just my - very - good friend." The euphemism was said with a soft affectionate tone of voice that Joe didn't have to fake.

"He's not with the -?" She was still eyeing Levon with a sharp look. He tried to look confused and kinda limp-wristed all at once, raising one hand to gracefully touch the tip of his index finger to Joe's shoulder, run it along the strong muscles while he let his tongue stick out and lick his lips pinkly.

"No, god, no. If they ever found out -" Joe left the rest unsaid, capturing Levon's errant hand and tugging him closer, planting a kiss on the inside of the swaying blonde's wrist. Levon murmured something indistinct into Joe's dark hair.

Gorman's tension eased and she smiled at them. Her mind was clicking now. 'They' would be the police, LaFiamma's boss and fellow cops. So, they didn't know that Joe was gay and had a cute blonde cowboy for a boyfriend? That could be useful information if things didn't go as she planned. "Ok, he can stay back here as long as he stays out of the way." She walked off, pretending not to notice the other men around her who were climbing into their sweats and tank tops for the rehearsal.

Now, Joe waited with the other dancers, doing simple stretches and calisthenics to warm up and be ready for Gary's practice moves that he drilled all the dancers with. Each move was designed to project the erotic images that the customers came to see. The dancers each had their own routine, but these moves were expected to be incorporated into those routines. After about two hours of drill and one new move that Gary taught all of them, he dismissed most, wanting to spend a few extra minutes with Ted. He had already told Joe to wait. The new dancer had shown some talent going in cold on Sunday night, but needed a bit of polish.

Levon had finally climbed down the stairs at the side of the stage, near the wings, to sit in a seat down in the audience. He could see Joe there and was out of the way. The dancers were really using the stage completely, not leaving any room for someone to just stand to the side. He noticed that when the other dancers left, most picking up towels from where they'd been dropped by the back curtain and wiping at their faces, arms, that one dancer remained leaning against a pillar at stage left. Marty? Yeah, that's the name. He sits next to LaFiamma in the dressing room. Levon studied the man who seemed to have eyes only for Joe. He was beautifully proportioned, dressed all in black, skin-tight leotards over a cup, skimpy tank that dipped down to his nipples at the front. His skin was glistening with sweat and his damp black curls hung to his shoulders, pulled out of his face with a blood red sweatband at his forehead. Man was eating Joe alive with his eyes. Levon felt a strange chill on his neck as the hairs there began to rise. No, Ah do not think Ah like you, Mister Marty.

Joe was finishing now, he'd been cooperative and interested as Gary showed him some moves and made suggestions to add to the dance he'd performed on Sunday night. Joe didn't tell him that he remembered very little of what he'd done - which had really just been to make love to Levon, to Vonnie, with his body set to music. Tomorrow night, with Levon in the wings, Joe would do a much more mechanical dance, but he'd use the moves he was learning from Gary and it would be alright, not passionate, but serviceable. He didn't say anything about what was passing in his mind, by next week's rehearsal, with luck, the case would be tied up, and Joe would not be here to have to listen to Gary pick apart his dancing again.

He tried to catch Levon's eye. The cowboy was slumped bonelessly in a chair in the front row below the stage, looking delicious. How he does that, I'll never know. Just gets comfortable anywhere, let's that wiry body of his go limp and fit to the place he's taken. Joe felt himself getting warm inside at his thoughts. He waved again, gesturing widely because Levon didn't seem to notice at first. The Texan stood up and strolled over to the stairs, coming up to follow Joe back into the dressing room.

"I've got to shower before we leave, 'Von, otherwise I won't be fit company," Joe tossed over his shoulder as he left Lundy by the stool Joe used at the long dressing table.

"Ah'll be here." Levon watched as his partner, large wet sweat streaks dampening his clothes in patches, walked off toward the shower room looking tired. That had been some workout. Never think a dancer ain't an athlete again, Levon thought.

The shower room was full, men under nearly every one of the shower heads, steam from the hot water raising a moist white cloud to shroud the scene and make it difficult to see. "Joe? There's room over here." That was Marty's voice. Then a hand snaked out and caught his wrist lightly, pulling.

Joe let himself be guided to where Marty stood, soaping himself under a wide spray. There was no free showerhead here, but the other man stood to the side making it clear they could share the water stream. Joe mentally shrugged and reached for the soap hanging from a rope. He rubbed himself vigorously with the bar, foaming up the lather and enjoying the feel of the hot water sluice him clean. Then hands were scrubbing his back, the place he could never reach, the place that Levon usually did for him. The touch was wrong though, that was NOT Levon's touch.

Joe spun around abruptly, only to find himself facing a surprised Marty, hands still in the air where he'd been scrubbing at the brunette only seconds before. "Joe?" This time it was faltering.

"Marty. It's ok, you just shoulda warned me first." Joe wasn't really surprised, Marty had already volunteered to help put on lotion on Sunday, hell, he'd put some on Marty. Just seemed to be part of the casual way the men all seemed to treat each other's bodies.

"No problem. You want to do my back now?" Marty turned and offered himself. Joe took up the soap and smoothed it on, his manner business-like and neutral. The other man began to get frustrated. Here he was offering himself, his beautiful body, to Joey and the man didn't even notice him. Oh, yes, this Phantom dancer had a lot to answer for, he was no innocent. He'd pay - he'd pay tomorrow night, Marty decided.

***********

Lundy decreed that they were goin' to their apartment so Joe could take a nap. When LaFiamma protested that he was fine, Lundy had simply stared at him. After a few baffling moments of silence, Joe essayed a small smile and allowed that he might be just a little tired from the three plus hours of workout on the dance floor. Levon gave a short nod and had driven the Jimmy to the Rawlings Street District.

Knowing that Joe really needed to just straight out sleep, Levon left him in their bed once Joe's breathing evened out. Their apartment cat, Carson, had curled up against Joe's side and was purring loudly, eyes shut. Levon knew that Carson was as good as any guard dog when it came to his pardner. He lightly ruffled the cat's soft fur, hearing a rumbling reply, then walked quietly out of the room.

He propped a note on the kitchen table saying he'd be downstairs at Mitch's cocktail hour. Whenever they were in town overnight, they would join their landlord's evening circle of friends. Among the men who attended were Jeff and Louie, their downstairs neighbors, and other interesting, even powerful, men of the gay community of Houston.

Tonight, when Levon wandered through the open downstairs, Mitchell Voder's own apartment on the ground floor, Chaz Destiny, the owner of the Tamerind Bar, and Marion Flagg, who owned Il Belle Bosco Ristorante, were sitting close, heads together discussing something. Jack Riley, who owned Riley's, a western dance hall complete with mechanical riding bull, was standing in the background. He raised his whiskey in salute when he spotted Levon walk out onto the terraced yard where Mitch was holding court. Mitch was flirting with someone Levon didn't know, a willowing looking older man in tweeds.

"Hey, Levon." Jack's voice alerted the others who all greeted the cowboy warmly.

Mitch deserted his guest to rush up and give the blonde a quick, friendly hug. "Levon! So good to see you!" He peered past the lanky cowboy, "But, where's Joe?" With an anxious look he studied Lundy's face. "You haven't lost him again have you?"

The silence that greeted that plaintative cry told Lundy that everyone had stopped and was waiting to hear his answer. His mind flew back to the case of the serial killer here in the Rawlings district, not even a year ago now. Schiezer. These men had helped him track down the killer who'd kidnapped Joe and was holding him in some forgotten cellars beneath the city. He blinked away the memories, stuff of nightmares, and shook his head. "No, Joe's just upstairs napping."

There was a collective sigh of relief, then Marion, who would never cease to flirt with everyone, looked up to say, "Napping? That hunk? What in the world does he need to nap for?"

Levon trusted these men with his life, with Joe's life. They knew that he and his pardner were cops. It was safe to speak here. "Case we're on. He's undercover as a dancer while we flush out a killer, some drug shipments gone lost."

"A dancer!" That was Chaz, who uncurled his tall form, lowering his eyes lazily. Levon knew that Chaz would go for Joe like a shot if he weren't there, but that the man respected their 'married' state and left Joe alone, mostly. "Where is he dancing? I'd like to see that."

Levon was shaking his head, "Even if we'd let you near us on a case, you couldn't get in the door on this one, Chaz." He smiled almost secretly as he accepted a Bourbon straight up from Mitch, took a warming sip. Watching the suspicious look from the dark man, Lundy's smile widened slightly. "The door to Hepplewhite's."

Mitch shrieked, "Oh, my god!" Quickly flushing and putting his hands to his mouth in embarrassment. "Sorry, sorry - but Levon - Hepplewhite's? He's stripping for women?" The astonishment was clear in his tone.

Lundy took another sip of his drink to hide his smile. "Yeah."

"Oh, my..." Marion sighed dramatically, "I would - dearly - like to see that."

"Only way you're gonna get in there, my dear, is if you go in like Babs - in drag," Chaz drawled not unkindly.

Marion shot Chaz a speaking look and turned his shoulder to the taller man, facing Lundy again. "Levon, how about you? Are you dancing too?"

"No, ma'am - uh, sir," he chuckled, "I'm jest the 'boyfriend' hanging around backstage. Watchin' Joe's back."

Raising his eyebrows, Chaz strolled closer. "His back? Or his - ?"

"Chaz!" That was Mitch sounding scandalized. He put a hand on Lundy's arm. "Levon, is it that dangerous?"

"There's two dead dancers so far, and Joe'n'me took out three drug dealers yesterday. The dancers both used the same costume, the Phantom. Now Joe's using it."

"Excuse me?" A new voice intruded. The stranger in tweeds. Damn! Levon had forgotten that tonight there was someone he didn't know here. God, had he just blown Joey's cover?

He looked the man over. "Yeah?"

"Sorry, I'm Doug Frazier, a friend of Kevin's from the University." The man held out one well-groomed hand. "I'm a professor there, too. In forensic medicine."

Levon stared. Now that was a coincidence. But the man hadn't finished. "I've heard about the dancer murders. The coroner is a friend of mine. He told me about the mystery of how they died on stage without a sign of what killed them. Both overdosing but no sign of drugs nor any puncture marks on the bodies."

Lundy nodded now, if the man knew that, he was on the inside circle 'cause that hadn't made the papers. "That's right, Doug. I'm Levon Lundy by the way." He offered his hand and the shook briefly.

"Well, Levon, I'm always fascinated by a good puzzle in my field. I've given a lot of thought to these two deaths. I'm wondering if it could have been some kind of topical poison or drug."

"Topical?" Marion asked from the sidelines.

Doug nodded his eyes not leaving Levon's. "Yes, administered by putting it on exposed skin so that it could soak into the skin through the pores. Such poisons can be fast acting and, if enough surface is affected, deadly in a short time. For the dancers, if that's what happened, it would have been accelerated by their activity - the heat, raised heart rate, increased breathing, it would all work to facilitate the poison's work. They would have dropped in their tracks before they even finished their dances. Even if the poison had been administered hours earlier."

Lundy's eyes were wide. "Thanks, Doug. Iffn that's what killed them, Ah'll know what to be on the lookout for while Ah'm watchin' Joe."

Frazier smiled shyly. "Good luck."

Later that evening, when Levon went back upstairs he found Joe in the kitchen making dinner. LaFiamma pulled him in for a deep kiss and began lavishing smaller ones all over his neck and face. Levon reciprocated and the conversation downstairs was forgotten for the moment.

*************

Lundy and LaFiamma spent the next morning at Reisner. They already done all the paperwork they could on the case to date, so they were researching Susan Gorman's past known associates, trying to find a link, a clue, something. It seemed a sure bet that she was behind the drug shipments from Kline. They guessed that she had helped herself to whatever was left of the last shipment when the first Phantom was killed. Probably thought it was Kline that had done it and that she was safe. Then the second Phantom had been murdered. Police were sniffing around. She was forced to act cooperatively in the murder investigation. Lundy thought she most likely still had the cocaine under wraps somewhere. LaFiamma suggested that Lundy might want to check around the hall during the evening while Joe was performing.

"No way, LaFiamma! I ain't leaving you for one minute! We're going there to solve the crimes, not to make you the next victim!"

Levon was so clearly upset at the notion that Joe dropped it. Once they'd caught the killer, they could go after Gorman. Beaumont was already arranging for a search warrant based upon the statements that Kline had made to Joe and that had been recorded, via the wire Joe wore, for posterity. Good thing, too, since Kline was now dead, Joe thought with satisfaction.

The day moved slowly. About mid-afternoon, Joe stood and stretched. "We need to go home, get changed for tonight."

Lundy nodded and rose, Joe watching him for signs of discomfort. He was still wrapped tight with cracked ribs but seemed to move without pain. They had simply slept together without any activity last night, Joe protective of Levon's ribs despite the blonde's insistence that he really was fine.

**********

Sue Gorman nervously snapped her gum, then chewed frantically as she sorted through the papers in her office above Hepplewhite's. If they saw her take out the package of dope she would be in over her head. She thought she'd figured out a way out of the mess she was in. One of the other dancers, Marty, had been asking if he could help her. He'd been hanging around, seemed eager to do anything to catch the one who'd done in the Phantom dancers. She hadn't told him anything yet, but maybe if she pretended that the package needed to be delivered in order to catch the murderer? She weighed package in her hand, it wasn't too heavy, little more than a pound, but worth? A lot more than she'd made on her last scam. She'd talk to Marty tonight. Before or after the show would largely depend on timing.

Marty put his gym bag up on the dressing counter, unzipping it and removing a bottle of body lotion in one swift movement. Through the semiclear plastic, you could see the sparkles suspended in the lubricant. It was a favorite brand of the dancers - made them seem to glow under the lights and it had no oils so it didn't inhibit their sweat. He was reaching over for Joe's bottle when the man was suddenly at his shoulder.

"No, man, I think I got enough left, you save that for yourself," Joe said smiling as he lifted the partly used bottle that Marty had given him on Sunday.

The black-haired man was about to make a comment when he realized that Joe wasn't alone. His friend Von was with him again. Marty grit his teeth and smiled back. "Let me know if you run out."

But LaFiamma had already turned his back to the other dancer to share some low comment with his special 'friend.' Tonight, the blonde with him was looking vibrant in a lavender silk shirt that hung over his slim frame in graceful draping. Open at the neck, Marty could see the man had several gold chains on. Gold on an ear. Buffed up nails, skin tight Levi's. Marty strained to hear what Joe was saying.

"...and I'll be back out as soon as I can, honey." There was breathiness to the speech that made Marty grind his teeth angrily. Damn the man. Damn him. Oh, yes. He would.
By now, both dancers were stripped down to the buff. Marty slipped into his G-string without difficulty but Joe once again did it more slowly, carefully. His friend seemed to be supervising the activity.

Levon watched Joe slip up the tiny covering with amusement. Since he'd had to wear a similar thing as Vonnie, he knew what Joe was feeling and sympathized. He leaned close to whisper advice on how to get in on more easily, letting one hand roam freely up and down Joe's nearest arm. Ah'm supposed to look like his boyfriend, Levon thought smugly, might as well enjoy the moment.

Joe's eyes gleamed in answering amusement and he spoke, knowing he'd probably be overheard in the close quarters of the group dressing room. "You keep your hands to yourself and I'll be back out as soon as I can, honey."

"Don't want to touch no one else." Levon murmured in reply, seeing that their immediate neighbor, the black haired dancer named Marty seemed very interested in their conversation. "What else you got to put on?"

Joe was already slathering the lotion on his legs as he bent over. "Well, first I grease up - so I 'shine' better under the lights for the ladies -"

"- for ME."

Joe agreed with equanimity, "For you. Then, I put the tearaways on."

Levon looked puzzled. "Tearaways?"

Joe nodded toward the folded pile of clothing waiting for him on the counter, a white face mask on top. "It's all Velcroed so it'll rip off when I jerk at it. The ladies don't like to wait." He squirted the last of the stuff into his hands, rubbing it on to his arms and chest. Damn, not enough for his back. Marty had been right.

Levon picked up the mask and put it to one side to lift up the first item of the costume, a strange lookin' pair of pants, the sides open all the way up, not even the waistband intact. Joe glanced over at Marty. "Say, Marty, looks like you were right. Can I have some of that lotion you brought in tonight? I just ran out."

Marty smiled. "Sure, Joe. Just put out your hand and I'll - "

Joe stopped him with another shy smile. "Well, you see I ran out just when I needed to get my back done. Could you - ?"

As Marty stared blankly at him, Levon spoke sharply. "Just put it in my hand, Marty, I'll do Joe's back." The dancer gulped. Of course, he thought maliciously as he nodded without speaking and squirted a large handful of the cream into the blonde's extended hand. Enjoy, he thought savagely. You may not get enough to join the Phantom where he's going, but you will definitely feel this.

Levon smeared the cream on both his palms and held it there briefly to warm it. Then he motioned to Joe who turned around for him, presenting that gracefully muscled back. Levon smoothed on the cream admiring the way the sparkles coated Joe's back while the lotion vanished into the skin. He took a small towel and wiped his hands to get rid of the residue. Then watched with interest as Joe hooked the tearaway pants around his waist and between his legs. As soon as he realized what happened next, he helped close up the side seams with the Velcro overlay.

Within a few minutes, Joe was dressed, all but the mask which dangled from one hand. He and Levon waited as the intercom would call off dancers' names and various men would leave, the music changing though the deep penetrating bass continued to throb through it all.

Marty was called away, glittering in a pale yellow cowboy suit that Levon figured was supposed to look like buckskin. He sighed in relief, really didn't like that fellow. No reason, just didn't like him, makes the hairs on my neck stand up...and my hands tingle.

In a time so short that Joe started, the intercom was warning him to be in the wings, he was up next. Levon walked with him to the area off stage and found a place to wait and be able to see most of the stage out front. He'd not budge from there until the show was over.

Joe was feeling the flush of nerves. It's alright. I'll just pretend Levon's out front again. Carol and Joanne are gonna be out there again tonight as back up. They've already seen me. He felt light-headed, must be the nerves. His mouth was dry, he licked his lips and mentally crossed his fingers. Levon leaned in and gave him a kiss, not caring who saw. Joe steadied.

Then Marty was coming off stage, panting and red-faced with exertion and the heat of the bright stage lights. Sue Gorman was waiting in the wings for him and followed him back into the dressing room. She'd decided the best time to talk with him was while that cop was on stage dancing. She had the small package of dope in her hands.

With a flash of lights and a deep crescendo of noise, "Ladieeeees, Hepplewhite's presents The Phantom...of your dreams!" A drum roll and Joe dove out onto the stage, rolling to his feet and twirling his cape.

Levon stood there watching as LaFiamma moved into the steps that Gary had practiced with him the afternoon before. They were much easier than the wild erotic poetry of motion that Joe had done for him alone on Sunday night. His hands tingled again, this time almost itchy. He glanced down and saw the sparkles on his skin glitter back at him.

Lundy looked up at the stage and saw that the lights were getting brighter. Almost swallowing Joe's body, making it blur...wobble. Wobble? Joe don't wobble. Alarmed, Levon squinted, he was definitely having trouble seeing now. And Joe was twirling around and tossing off his second cape, then staggering to a stop, swaying on unsteady legs. That ain't right. Joe's one of the most graceful, cat-like critters Ah know. Levon shook his head, trying to clear it. Saw Joe grabbing at his shirt, ripping it away and tossing it to the crowd. He half fell forward toward the edge of the stage, then put both hands to his back as if to soothe it, scratch it. Must itch. Itch? Levon looked back down as his own hands. Oh, no. NO!

Then he was screaming it, "No!" He ran on to the stage, heedless of the music, lights, audience. "Joe!" He grabbed at his pardner, nearly missed as Joe staggered again. "Come'on!" He began to drag the man off the stage. He spared a glance down at the women in the front. Carol and Joanne were there somewheres. "He's been poisoned! Call an ambulance! The dancer named Marty! Get him!"
By then, Levon had dragged the brunette to the wings. With a quick twist, he faced his pardner and thrust his shoulder into Joe's stomach, swinging the taller man up over his back, grabbing his legs. Then he ran. Oh, god, let me be in time! Ran like his heart might break. To the showers.

Levon skidded into the shower room and shoved the nearest man out of the way. Dancers who were finished were already in there washing up. He dropped Joe down onto his feet and facing the shower wall. "STAY THERE!" He yelled into LaFiamma's ear, snatching up a bar of soap and scrubbing fiercely at Joe's back, letting the soap remove any lotion left on his own hands at the same time. He stopped to drag off his sopping shirt and use it as a scrub rag to cleanse the skin deeper. With a snarl of impatience, he hooked his hand into Joe's waistband and jerked the tearaway pants free. Then he continued his scrubbing down the spine and rump. Everwhere that damn stuff had been put on, it had to come off. He was nearly weeping now, HE had put it on. He couldn't believe he'd actually done that, been that stupid. Oh, please god, please. He kept scrubbing.

Joe didn't understand why he couldn't keep his balance. He understood the nervousness but this was strange. The lights were turning new colors too, ones he didn't remember from last time. He was definitely feeling like he'd had too much too drink now, only, only he hadn't had anything to drink...had he? When Levon charged out at him, yelling, he'd really not understood what was wrong, then Levon was bellowing something to Carol and the lieutenant about Marty. Why? He was being dragged off the stage, but I didn't finish yet. Did I? With a cough, he sagged over Levon's shoulder when the man hit him with it. Now what the hell? Everything was beginning to spin and fade, and he was suddenly all wet. Really wet. He was underwater and Levon was still yelling something and rubbing him, scrubbing his back, damn near scraping his skin off. He sagged against the wall that he'd been leaned against. The chill and dizziness were receding now. But he still felt weird. "Lundy?" It came out choked, only half a word.

"Joe." Levon was panting like he'd run a mile. "Hold on, pardner, ambulance is on the way."

"Ambulance?" The confusion in the brunette's voice made Lundy want to laugh, only he was too strung out. At least his hands didn't tingle anymore. That had to be a good sign - for him and for Joe.

**********

Two days later....

"Lundy. I. Want. Out." Joe's voice was deadly serious and quiet. He was so ready to climb walls and here his partner was, agreeing with everything the doctors said, keeping him trapped here in this hospital bed for observation.

Levon stood up stiffly and drew back his shoulders, putting his hands to the crick in his back. "Joe, doc'll be here shortly. Less I'm mistaken, I think you're gonna get your walking papers so just calm down."

Fuming, LaFiamma folded his arms over his chest and subsided back onto the bedding and pillows. He shot a dark look at his friend. "I just don't understand why they didn't keep you here too."

"Did. For twenty-four hours." As it was clear that Joe was about to erupt again, Levon held up a hand to stay his outburst, "But I didn't get near that amount of stuff on me. I even wiped it off some with a towel...after I put it on your back." The last was said with a lowered voice, the regret and guilt carrying to Joe's sensitive ear.

"Levon! It was not your fault! NOT!" Joe lost interest in himself as he grabbed at the blonde's nearest arm and yanked the stubborn man toward him. Face to face, he said again, "Not your fault." He paused, then, "You saved my life."

Levon colored up and looked at the floor. "Only wish -"

"- 'if wishes were horses, beggars would ride', Lundy." Joe smiled gently now and pulled his friend close for a kiss.

Breaking apart, Joe ran his hand down the side of Levon's face, hesitating for a moment as his fingers rested on that stubborn chin. Change the subject. "You want to tell me what happened to Marty? Gorman?"

Levon relaxed and settled a hip on the edge of the bed, happy to talk about something else. "Carol and Joanne called for back up and ran back stage. They caught him as he was leaving the building, innocent as you please. Only the half-kilo of dope was in his gym bag, along with the doctored bottle of body lotion, the poison."

Joe shook his head, idly rubbing at Levon's arms. The cowboy continued. "He told them right away that Gorman had given him the package, so we reeled her in too. Then he just plain went certifiably nutso."

"Nutso?" Joey grinned at Lundy.

"Yep," defiantly Levon added, "Certifiably!"

"Well, that oughta take care of him for a while."

"Yep. They've already got him in a loony bin. The coroner's office confirmed that the stuff had killed the first two dancers...nearly killed you."

"Levon -" Joe started threateningly.

"Ok, ok. Ah know it weren't my fault, but - "

"Levon -"

"Aw, hell, Joey." Levon grabbed the brunette and pulled him into a tight hug, ignoring his own mostly healed ribs that creaked slightly. "I was really scared this time." He confessed in a whisper.

"It's alright, now, Levon." Joe hugged back firmly, kissing Levon's hair. "I'm alright. It's over."

Levon sighed and nodded against Joey's neck. Very quietly he agreed, "Yep," then added, "until next time."

---------finis----------

Everything on this page is fiction. Any resemblance or reference to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.