It was blistering hot for Seattle. As Carter watched for a break in the traffic on busy, six-lane Aurora Avenue, he had to keep pulling his pale blue polo from the small of his back. Sweat persistently glued it there.
The cars swarmed the busy roadway, once Seattle’s main thoroughfare before the construction of I-5. Carter desperately wanted to get across the street because the Galaxy Gold Motel beckoned from the other side.
He knew that in room number nine, Tony waited.
Part of the sweat coursing down his back, dotting his hairline, and pooling in his pits was, to be sure, from the close-to-90-degree temperature. It was also because of anticipating Tony, whom he knew would be lying naked in the darkened cheesy motel room, waiting for him. Carter could see him now, his ebony body, smoot
