virtual darkness. A half-moon cast some light, but not much. "We may as well go to sleep," Connor suggested.
They lay down, entwined in each other's arms. Although Paul would not have sex with Connor till he'd officially broken up with Patrick, he had no such reticence about cuddling. They kissed and stroked each other, and since both men professed not to be sleepy yet, they exchanged still more interesting stories from their respective pasts. It was while Connor was telling Paul about the time when he'd gone to Washington, D.C., on a class tour in his senior year of high school that he realized Paul had begun to softly snore. "You're asleep, aren't you?" he asked softly and got no answer in return. Tightening his grip on Paul, he lay there till he, too, fell into slumber.
When Connor woke up, it was daylight and once again foggy. His arm was cramped in a position under Paul's head, and much as he didn't want to disturb his sleeping companion, he just had to move that arm. Connor tried to be gentle about it, but as soon as he tried to move, Paul stirred and opened his eyes. He looked at Connor and smiled.
"Good morning," he said sleepily, through a yawn.
"Good morning to you," Connor replied, brushing Paul's cheek with a soft kiss. "What time is it?"
Paul peered at his watch, then reached into his shirt pocket for his reading glasses, which had survived the dunking. Putting them on, he again looked at the watch and said, "A little after seven."
"I hear the island is serving berries for breakfast," Connor commented jocularly, thinking fondly of his abandoned pizza dog. He had long since removed the squooshed foil wrapper from his pocket and left it, still wrapped, in the bushes.
"Berries sound good, but I need to pee first," was Paul's reply.
"Me too."
When their bladders were empty, they went after their fill of berries and then returned to the thin strip of beach. It was way too foggy to see any vessel that was not right up against the island, but they took up the vigil, knowing the fog would clear by mid-morning.
"I feel grungy," Paul said. "I think I'll take off my clothes and dunk in the water."
"Don't go far," cautioned Connor.
"Do you think I'm a nincompoop?" asked Paul affably. "I certainly don't want to get lost in the fog. Are you coming in?"
"I've had enough of the water to last me awhile," Connor answered with a laugh. "I'll wait here."
Paul removed his clothing and walked cautiously into the water. Although he was only a little way out, he kept disappearing from Connor's sight in the thick fog, then reappearing again. He made quick work of his impromptu bath and came back up onto the island, although he left his clothes off and sat on his shirt.
"That's the idea," encouraged Connor. "Don't get your wet butt all sandy."
"Do you suppose a boat will come for us today?" Paul asked in a plaintive voice.
"They're bound to be out looking for us," Connor answered with all the optimism he could muster.
"How can we signal a passing boat?" Paul mused.
"Let's gather some wood," Connor said.
"What are you planning?" Paul asked him.
"When the sun comes out we'll aim it through your glasses at the wood and see if we can make the wood smolder. If we start a fire, maybe any passing boat will see it."
"Wow! That's a clever thought!" said Paul admiringly. They foraged into the center of the island looking for broken twigs and branches, dead leaves, anything that was likely to catch fire relatively easily. Then they piled everything up in a bonfire configuration and waited for the sun to come out.
Predictably, by mid-morning the fog began to thin out and the sun to make an appearance. Connor waited till the fog had fully burned off and the sun was strong before asking Paul, "Now let me have your glasses." Paul complied gladly, reaching into his shirt pocket and passing the eyeglasses over to Connor.
As he did, he spotted another vessel off in the distance. "Hurry!" he said. "There's a boat of some kind out
They lay down, entwined in each other's arms. Although Paul would not have sex with Connor till he'd officially broken up with Patrick, he had no such reticence about cuddling. They kissed and stroked each other, and since both men professed not to be sleepy yet, they exchanged still more interesting stories from their respective pasts. It was while Connor was telling Paul about the time when he'd gone to Washington, D.C., on a class tour in his senior year of high school that he realized Paul had begun to softly snore. "You're asleep, aren't you?" he asked softly and got no answer in return. Tightening his grip on Paul, he lay there till he, too, fell into slumber.
When Connor woke up, it was daylight and once again foggy. His arm was cramped in a position under Paul's head, and much as he didn't want to disturb his sleeping companion, he just had to move that arm. Connor tried to be gentle about it, but as soon as he tried to move, Paul stirred and opened his eyes. He looked at Connor and smiled.
"Good morning," he said sleepily, through a yawn.
"Good morning to you," Connor replied, brushing Paul's cheek with a soft kiss. "What time is it?"
Paul peered at his watch, then reached into his shirt pocket for his reading glasses, which had survived the dunking. Putting them on, he again looked at the watch and said, "A little after seven."
"I hear the island is serving berries for breakfast," Connor commented jocularly, thinking fondly of his abandoned pizza dog. He had long since removed the squooshed foil wrapper from his pocket and left it, still wrapped, in the bushes.
"Berries sound good, but I need to pee first," was Paul's reply.
"Me too."
When their bladders were empty, they went after their fill of berries and then returned to the thin strip of beach. It was way too foggy to see any vessel that was not right up against the island, but they took up the vigil, knowing the fog would clear by mid-morning.
"I feel grungy," Paul said. "I think I'll take off my clothes and dunk in the water."
"Don't go far," cautioned Connor.
"Do you think I'm a nincompoop?" asked Paul affably. "I certainly don't want to get lost in the fog. Are you coming in?"
"I've had enough of the water to last me awhile," Connor answered with a laugh. "I'll wait here."
Paul removed his clothing and walked cautiously into the water. Although he was only a little way out, he kept disappearing from Connor's sight in the thick fog, then reappearing again. He made quick work of his impromptu bath and came back up onto the island, although he left his clothes off and sat on his shirt.
"That's the idea," encouraged Connor. "Don't get your wet butt all sandy."
"Do you suppose a boat will come for us today?" Paul asked in a plaintive voice.
"They're bound to be out looking for us," Connor answered with all the optimism he could muster.
"How can we signal a passing boat?" Paul mused.
"Let's gather some wood," Connor said.
"What are you planning?" Paul asked him.
"When the sun comes out we'll aim it through your glasses at the wood and see if we can make the wood smolder. If we start a fire, maybe any passing boat will see it."
"Wow! That's a clever thought!" said Paul admiringly. They foraged into the center of the island looking for broken twigs and branches, dead leaves, anything that was likely to catch fire relatively easily. Then they piled everything up in a bonfire configuration and waited for the sun to come out.
Predictably, by mid-morning the fog began to thin out and the sun to make an appearance. Connor waited till the fog had fully burned off and the sun was strong before asking Paul, "Now let me have your glasses." Paul complied gladly, reaching into his shirt pocket and passing the eyeglasses over to Connor.
As he did, he spotted another vessel off in the distance. "Hurry!" he said. "There's a boat of some kind out
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