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"I..."

He looked at me as I tried to finish my sentence. He wiped the tears flowing like a river from my tired eyes away with his black paw and he pierced my soul with his hazel eyes. He was the man I had fallen in love with that night at the bar. It wasn't just a casual one night stand, it developed into a long lasting relationship that stood through thick and thin.

*********

I could hear my press secretary screaming at me before I even picked up my cell phone.

"DUKE!"

I had to move the phone away from my ear until the ringing had stopped. My press secretary, Linda, a strong and yappy tigress, had absolutely no idea about who Max was to me, and I knew what she would think. Let me back up, approximately 30 seconds ago my boyfriend was shown bloodied on camera, a female voice was asking for a ransom, and I had no clue what to do.

Instead of answering Linda I walked briskly out of the office and to her desk. She glared at me, but I could tell she didn't know what to think.

I looked at her, trying to hide any sort of emotion on my face. I am not coming out like this. I had enough media attention as it was. When marriage equality was passed my company came under scrutiny, because we had several untouchable trust funds for anti-gay groups and conversion therapy centers. I cut the funding to them the day after my father passed, but there was still an untouchable and substantial amount in both accounts. Making those trust funds was one of the last things my father did to fuck me over before he died. I was outed to him a year prior to his death. Thinking of him just made me angry and sad. My mother had died when I was five and by the time I had gotten over that depressing matter I was hitting adolescence and figuring out I liked boys.

Linda looked at me with a bewildered look on her face and said possibly the worst thing to say when your secret boyfriend has been kidnapped.

"I never knew."

"Never knew what?" I asked, leaning on her desk and looking out the window, gazing at the city. I calculated I had two minutes before my press secretary found me.

"That you were-" She hesitated on the word, she didn't want to say it, she couldn't.

I wanted to finish her sentence. Years and years of angst gnawed at me, then I realized she was only my secretary. She didn't need to know my personal life, as much as she wanted to.

"Gay," she finished.

I stood looking out the window and ignored Linda blabbering about her fabulous gay uncle (yes she actually used that word). She didn't care about the fact that my boyfriend was being tortured, she only cared about my sexuality, which now that I think of it, the two do correlate.

A thin, rather attractive border collie sporting a blazer appeared from the elevator. He was flanked by two huskies, both male, and both rather short. The collie, whose name escapes me at the moment is of course is my press secretary and the huskies are my lawyers. Aside from my father's death I'd never seen them. Years ago I'd thought about asking the collie out, he picked up on my gaydar. The border collie, (I remember then his name is Colt), reached me first. He ushered me into my office without saying a word. Linda still bewildered took one look at the intimidating lawyers and hid herself in whatever work she was doing, her tail stiff as a board.

The huskies followed Colt in and shut the translucent door behind them.

Colt's sky blue eyes looked into mine and for a moment I saw a flicker of lust. So he was gay? I told myself. He cleared his throat and it was then I realized I had only one chair in my entire office. Rather than sit down, I leaned against the front of my desk. Just as Colt began to speak, the shock of what had just happened began to set in. I wanted to crawl under my desk and hide, to think about anything else other than Max, being held up somewhere and tortured.

What am I supposed to say?

What am I supposed to do?

My paranoia brings back the memory of my first love...

**********

"Duke, I know today is hard with..." My father trailed off.

I was sobbing, thinking about my mother. I didn't remember much, I just remember her loving touch, and possibly the faintest scent. Nobody loved me like she did, she devoted her last five years alive to me. While my dad was busy running the company and burning pride flags she was at home with me, or at least that's what I remember.

Whenever my dad would yell at me I'd retreat into my room and find a book to read, which wasn't hard, since we had a huge library full of untouched novels, by all the greats: King, Gold, Patterson, you name it. We had several maids around the house and one of their tasks was to buy the hottest and newest books on the market, as long as they didn't have any homosexuality (or faggotry as my dad liked to call it). I particularly liked Stephen King. My dad reminded me a lot of Jack Torrance, not that he was a psycho with writer's block, but that he was a jerk. I knew Torrance was of course a recovering alcoholic, but my dad acted like an alcoholic, even though I never smelled the booze on him.

I wondered often why he hated gay people so much, one of my friends, Blake, at high school was gay, at least he told me he was. My father said never to acknowledge they were what they said they were, that validates them. He wanted them to be ashamed. I thought of my dalmatian friend often. We'd had short talks about it, I never wanted to get into sexuality much. I wanted to figure it out my own, I felt repressed. I looked at women constantly with a sexual gaze.

If they bent over to pick up a dropped pencil I would sneak a casual glance at their ass or their boobs if I got lucky. I never knew if they picked up on it. I got paranoid whenever a girl I'd looked at started wearing modest clothing.

Somehow Blake and I remained good friends, and at times I wondered if it was because he liked me. I'd seen him take quick glances at me, but only at my face. I'd never even been shirtless in front of him.

My father knew I had friends in high school, but didn't ask more than that. I guessed his grief for my mother made him less interested in my life.

I managed to get a girlfriend, but all I was looking for was getting up in her skirt. She was a nice vixen, modest breasts, but a really cute muzzle and ass. She didn't complain when I moved my paw to rest on her thigh at the cinema or when my paw went many other places in my car afterword. After I dropped her off, she smiled and after giving me a kiss told me she wanted to do it all again.

I didn't know how to reply. I couldn't deny I'd felt pleasure from having sex with her, but it all felt so surreal. A question formed in my mind and I shut it down quickly. I AM NOT GAY. I parked my car in the garage and sat for a minute after switching off the ignition. Am I gay?

I pulled up the memory of about twenty minutes ago when I was climaxing, it had felt good, but it didn't feel right at the same time. I started to think then, that I was just guilty for sneaking out and having sex. My father wasn't religious, he didn't care... or did he? My father hadn't spoken to me much about sex, other than he wanted me to find a good german shepherd girl to settle down with. Would he care if I had a one (or two), night stand with a vixen I barely knew? I started to say dirty things to myself about the vixen, like what I'd like to do next time I saw her (if there was a next time). I expected my pants to get tight from the want between my legs, but nothing happened.

I decided to go to my room and try my paw. My plan failed as soon as I set paw inside. My dad jumped out of the darkness.

"Where were you Duke?"

"I went out to a movie, with a girl. I told you that." I tried to make it seem like I had lost track of time.

"You were gone longer, than..." My dad sniffed.

"Is that fox?" He asked approaching me.

He neared his black muzzle to my shoulder and sniffed again.

"I... Dad I can explain..."

"YOU ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE! SLEEPING WITH A VIXEN! GO TO YOUR ROOM!"

I could tell my dad was so flustered he hadn't thought of a punishment yet.

I started to walk towards my room, tail between my legs, ears down, and my stomach in a knot from paranoia. I got halfway up the stairs, before my dad called up after me.

"Give me your phone! I don't want you texting this girl again!" I begrudgingly stepped down the stairs, quickly taking my iPhone out of my pocket.

It took me a second to realize sleeping a vixen was the least of my problems, now that my dad had my phone, he had all my secrets.

********

"Duke, I need you to be honest with me. What are your relations with the kidnapped man?" Colt's sky blue eyes looked at me solemnly. The two huskies both had black and white markings, just like Shasta, and for the briefest second I thought of the husky I had loved years ago. When I came back to reality I was hit by a wave of guilt. Here I was in a mini-conference about my kidnapped boyfriend, thinking about my ex-boyfriend.

"I..."

Colt looked at me assuredly, he took a step closer to me.

"Look, Duke I know this is hard, but sometimes getting it off your chest will help."

I couldn't do it anymore. The pressure, the stress, and keeping Max a secret, I wanted to pour it all out to Colt, but he's just my press secretary. I put a paw over my muzzle and hid my sobs as coughs, much good that did, because I knew Colt and my lawyers could see my tears.

"Is he your boyfriend?" Colt asked.

The huskies exchanged a glance and I wondered as to whether or not they were a couple. It seemed their eyes lit up at the possibility of their boss being gay, even under these terrifying circumstances.

"Y..." I faltered.

Max wasn't my boyfriend, he was my partner. We did more than any of my previous lovers and I had done together. We ate our meals together, made love, shopped together, and all the while under the cover of friendship.

"Yes..."

"Ok," Colt put a white paw on my shoulder, his scent was laced with a very sweet perfume.

"Duke, it's going to be okay. I need to know one more thing are we going to go public with this?"