"He's attached to the Bureau of Investigation of that which you call U.F.O's. Isn't he, Brad?"

"He might be ... I don't know."

Frank advances on Brad, crop brandished menacingly.

"Now, now, let's not quibble, Brad," he purrs darkly. Fearfully, Brad scrambles backwards, hits the wall, and struggles to stand. Frank shoves him down with his free hand, beginning to smile dangerously.

"Have a seat, Brad!" he says. His voice drops to a whisper as he adds, "I love seeing you on the floor ..."

Brad shudders.

"Oh, don't be like that," Frank murmurs, kissing down his neck. "I thought ... we'd gotten ... past all those ... pesky inhibitions ...."

Brad's robe is coming down over his shoulders. He arches his back against the floor as Frank slides against him, nipping and sucking at his skin.