What could I do? My heart felt like a fireplace outside in a winter storm. "Buster! For gods sake!" Stan snapped.

"What? You and "Babe" have been rolling in bed for 10 or so years on screen. No one in broad daylight here will think anything of it..." Keaton replied sheepishly.

"Buster please... Let me talk to Babe about this."

"So you two are... "Close"... Keaton summarized.

"We've become close, yes, Buster, but not in the way you or everyone with a overactive imagination thinks! You can be close to a bloke, care and not do "things' wit' the fella! I'm with Ruth." Buster leaned toward me with his chin resting on his closed fist. His face looked like a cat that sneaked into a cream factory. "What do you see in Him, Stan? I'm a bit younger, definitely more spry."

"Buster... Look!" Stan interrupted quietly.

"I suppose he is a cute pillow. Not my type, but, cute." Keaton mocked. Suddenly Buster leaned closer to me as if he was to kiss me. I was already frozen to the bone, however my soul went to shock, as if a deer in headlights. Stan then yanked buster by the arm away from me, turning him halfway towards him.

"You hypercritical fence door...! You said-" Buster started to answer.

"I told you... I-will-speak-to-him!" Stan Interrupted. Keaton pulled his arm away from Stan, Stood up, adjusting his jacket, staring daggers at the pale blue-eyed man, then turned his head toward me so fast I thought he was going to fall from shock. "Don't trust him with your heart, Oliver. You know how he is, you have seen the legions of women, party people he is around, or locked in his office, editing, writing and stewing." Buster leaned over me, putting one hand on the back of the chair I was sitting in and the other on the table. His face was close to mine I could count the pours on it. Stan stood up, adjusted his vest and jacket and then pulled at Keaton again. Buster stayed firm over me, snapping away from Stan's grip. In a low voice, Buster told me that him and Stan were lovers when Stan temporarily went back to stage shows and started in some silent movies. Buster came from a strict religious family that valued traditions. He said he never liked women "in that way" and said some distasteful things about them that I shalt write here in his explanation to me. The two bonded over the trouble with women, however he knew Stan couldn't resist a "comforting" pretty face, male or female.

Stan was more careful and supposedly "broke it off" between the two of them because his Australian common law wife was very clingy and the studio had plans for Stan. Buster was upset and heart broken but the two stayed friends, without benefits and promised that he would be the only man that he would ever wish to be with that way Now seeing us together, close and comfortable with one another, burnt him. "As a human being to another, as a man with emotions to another, all Stan wants is a cool pillow, Baby, trust-me! As soon as you get too warm and is used to you, he throws you on the floor, switches to the next cushion, you know it." Buster pushed off my chair and started to walk away till Stan got ahold of his wrist. The two locked eyes and stood there. I got up quietly as possible and waved at the two. Stan let go and went after me, stopping me.

"Babe, listen, I can explain everything." Stan started.

"Look, the two of you obviously need to do some catching up. I do not wish to get in between whatever you fellas got or had going on. I will see you on set, tomorrow, no... we finished the last scene." I replied.

"I will talk to Buster, later, however I cannot bear it if you walked away now without understanding my side of things... Please, Babe... Please."

"Stan, I dont want any trouble." I said softly, and then patted his hand." Stan let go of me quickly, went to Keaton and said something in a low tone. Buster looked at me, then Stan and then walked away. I felt terrible because I honestly wanted the two to speak. Later that night, Stan took me to the same trailer that we stayed in when the downpour of rain happened all those years ago. It was almost the same situation, except there was no rain. The night seemed thick, the door was locked, drapes pulled back. I knew this feeling. I was scared, excited and nervous. My bones became like a vice, turning stiff against liquid muscles, flowing yet chunky blood and short breathes. Scraping at the back of my shoed foot with the other, I looked down, fidgeting, lacing my fingers. My gulps felt like swallowing particles of dry gravel. Stan sitting on the bed made me grow three hearts and lose five at the same time. He explained that what Buster said was true, but he disagreed that he discarded the fella's feelings. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, Babe. Not that it was not important, nor that Buster's feelings aren't legitimate, he never let me know that was the way he felt. Buster and I had a space in time that I look back on as not toxic, but not very healthy. Fast paced, yet stuck in mud."

"I didnt think I would want to be close to a guy like this. I still care about Myrtle-"

"Goodness knows why." Stan quipped as he lit a cigarette hanging off his lips. I sat up, blinked a few times and looked on at him with widened eyes. "She is my wife, Stan. My friend, lover, confidant... At least... That is the way I wish it was. I'm more of a friend to her than she is to herself, and within that process she is not a friend to me." I automatically started to weep, lifting my hands to my face, turning them into a fountain. "All I wanted to do was be the man I was expected to be. Play around on the course and be bad at the track..." I wiped away the tears on my shirt, breathed in and looked up. "Now these feelings. I have been told my entire life it is wrong, and I still love women, but why... Why am I here, with you... Like this?" I turned on the side table light so I could see more of him. My hands floated to his face, taking in his lips with mine. I caressed his shoulders, forearms, chest taking off his shirt in the process. Synchronized, with me in the lead, we went into the bed, on top of the covers. I wanted to see all of him, have all of him and not let anything else, even the thin blanket take that away from me. Stan became the foundation I was going to penetrate. I felt he was what I needed and wanted, the attention I was not getting from home, society and a piece I did and did not realize was missing. Catching myself, I stopped realizing we were both completely nude, me on top of him and about to do something that could never be taken back. I pushed my hands to the side of his forearms, looked down at his body and then rested my eyes on his face. "Babe..."

"Stan, I... I dont know what came over me... Well actually... Stan, I do not want to use you for my emptiness. I care about you too much to physically and... whatever I was going to do, use you as emotional medicine." I put my hand on his cheek and looked down at him. Stan took my hand within both of his, moved it to his lips and kissed my inner palm. His eyes then started to fill with tears, then mine filled with tears. "Besides, I dont want to... hurt... you." Then Stan quipped, "Not from what I have seen, hon." I was put to pause then fell on top of him in shared, loud laughter. We then wrapped our arms around one another. Nose to nose there was silence, then kissing and caressing.

Stan pulled my head to his neck as I continued to feel and travel with my hands between his hips and forehead. I became lost within this passionate freedom, not realizing I was inside of him until a few seemingly pleasurable straining, moans were released from Stan's turned away face. His eyes closed, concentrating on the moment. I was terrified and looked down on him positioning myself on my palms, still over and within him, Stan pulled me down to his warming heat and aura, kissing my neck and the entire side of my face. His arms were my surrender, as he breathed out for me to continue.