I didn’t sleep that night. City noises kept me awake: taxi drivers blowing horns; sexy hustlers whistling; drunken queers walking home from one-night stands with pretty boys. The thought of Marcos inside my apartment also kept me awake. I didn’t fear his presence. Instead, I longed for him to be near me, desiring his attention. I wasn’t desperate for his skin to align with my own, although I wanted it to. I was a handsome man who was physically fit, intelligent, and monetarily established. I could have had any man I really wanted because of my good looks. Truth was I only desired Marcos and his sinister ways. My mind raced with unquenchable thoughts regarding the spy. I longed for his touch, lips, and nose against my chest. Each time I thought of the man I grew somewhat dazed and confused,
