The DJ at Xanadu wore a red beehive hairdo, false eyelashes, press-on fingernails and a big, fluffy boa draped around ‘her’ neck. 'She' had always fancied Larry Sanderson but he had never been interested. It was Saturday and she spotted him at the bar.

"Larry, Honey, where have you been lately?" she gushed.

"Working, Sydney. Just working. Nothing more exotic," said Larry.

"You know what they say about that, honey. All work and no play makes Larry a dull boy. Just let me know when you want to play. I can promise you a good time."

"Sydney, love, thanks. I think I just want to be alone tonight."

"Honey, you don't know what you're missing," said Sydney in a huff as she glided back to play some more selections before the show began.

Xanadu was an upscale gay entertainment place with a bar, restaurant and club. Larry Sanderson seldom went there. It was a bit too yuppie for him. But he enjoyed the shows. Larry managed to keep his private and public personas apart. No one at the NSC knew he was gay. If they thought about him at all, they'd probably conclude that he was asexual, just like his computers. That suited Sanderson. The NSC was a macho heterosexual place. Coming out of the closet could only lead to trouble. There was still lingering resentment over the President's 'gays in the military' policy.

Most people were dancing. The floor was packed and there was a party atmosphere in the place. As Larry watched, spotlights shone on the three circular tables in the center of the floor, illuminating the table dancers, the stars of the evening. They were all good-looking, well-built young men wearing only the skimpiest of red silk underwear. The choreography was professional, their dancing excellent: always provocative but never lewd. Larry had seen the trio before but he never tired watching them. As he sipped his gin and tonic he couldn't help noticing the fair-haired young man looking at him intently from the other side of the bar. When he caught his eye the young man smiled. Larry looked away again. He wasn't out to pick up or be picked up.

Tonight, the bartender seemed to be auditioning. Between serving his customers he was dancing on the bar and tucking his tips suggestively down his pants. On one of his gyrations around the bar he deposited another gin and tonic in front of Larry and whispered in his ear:

"Sweetheart, this one's on Joseph," pointing to the fair-haired young man on the other side of the bar, who smiled and lifted his glass in a toast to Larry.

It must have been the numerous gin and tonics, thought Larry as he fumbled to get the key into the lock on the door of his apartment. Joseph had insisted on helping him home after he had slipped off the stool at the bar in Xanadu and dazed himself when he cracked his head against the brass footrail. Now Joseph gently took the key from him and turned it in the lock. Inside Larry groped for the light switch. Again Joseph helped, and as the lights came on he guided Larry over to the couch in the living room and propped him up on it with pillows.

It seemed ages later but Larry imagined he heard the door opening again, imagined he heard voices and thought he must be dreaming. He was sure he wasn't asleep but he knew he wasn't awake either. He dreamed that hands were lifting him up in the air and carrying him. Funny how the mind can make dreams and imaginings seem so real, he thought.

He wanted to scratch the tickle on his nose but his right hand wouldn't move. He tried his left hand and it wouldn't move either. He felt panic, and his struggle, as well as the smelling salts he'd just been administered, awakened him. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he could see that he was lying on his back on the bed and his wrists and ankles were tied to the bedposts. He was naked.

"Wake up, sweetheart. Are you ready for some fun?" He knew it was Joseph. His eyes focused on the voice and he could see him standing at the foot of the bed. But there were two of him. He must be seeing double. He closed and opened his eyes but the double image didn't go away. There were two of them.

"This is my best friend, dear Larry. He wants to join in. You don't mind, do you? Two's fun but three's an orgy. Isn't that right, sweetheart?"

Larry's panic increased. He could feel his heart thumping loudly in his chest.

"Joseph, please stop. I'm not into bondage and pain. Don't do this. Let me up," he pleaded. But that just aroused chuckles in Joseph and his best friend, who had now emerged from the shadows with a lighted cigarillo between the fingers of his right hand.

"But my best friend here is into bondage and pain in a big way. Especially pain. He just loves to give it, don't you, darling?"

Best friend said nothing. Instead he blew on the end of his cigarillo till it glowed red and then, without any warning, he stuck it into the sole of Sanderson's right foot. Sanderson's body bucked in agony on the bed, but the ties held. He started to scream, but Joseph stuck a facecloth in his mouth and gagged him. Best friend pulled away the cigarillo from Sanderson's foot and his body stopped fighting. Gradually Joseph removed the gag and Larry could smell his own burnt flesh.

"That's just an appetizer, sweetheart. Are you ready for the main course?"

" What do you want from me?" Larry wheezed. His throat hurt from the screams that were never heard.

"I'll tell you what we want, sweetheart. We want you to tell us what you're working on. We want to know what programs you're running for General Shields."

Sanderson felt as though the fire from his foot had suddenly hit his brain. They knew. Somebody had found out what he was working on. Or found out enough and had leaked it. Just as quickly he suddenly felt cold, as he realized that Joseph and the other man were terrorists. Maybe even the people that MacDara was looking for.

"That's not a secret. I'm working on the next version of our simulator on anti-terrorism. Everybody knows General Shields’s special job in the NSC," said Larry in as controlled a voice as he could muster, still trying to talk his way out of this.

"Wrong answer, sweetheart! Best friend doesn't like wrong answers, do you, darling?"

Knowing what was about to happen didn't help. It only made it worse. Joseph gagged him again and best friend stuck the glowing end of his cigarillo into Sanderson's left foot. He seemed to do it twice as long this time, and when Joseph removed the gag it looked as though Sanderson was semi-conscious. Joseph stuck the smelling salts under his nose and slapped him on the cheeks till he was satisfied that Sanderson was fully alert again.

Larry Sanderson had never thought of himself as a brave person. But he'd never been tested. Until now. Now he knew he wasn't brave. He didn't want to be tortured any more. He broke down and pleaded to be set free, promised them anything if they'd spare his life. Joseph gave him some water and Larry Sanderson talked. Told them everything. Everything that he knew. About the AI system, about Shields, about MacDara, about the Circle of Sodom. He couldn't tell them about General Walker or Tony Thackeray because he didn't know about them. But he did tell them about the investigation into Colonel McNab and the Millennium Covenant. Joseph knew when Larry had finished that he had told them everything. He could recognize a broken man.

"Sweetheart, you did good. You should get a prize. Don't you think so, best friend? Sweetheart deserves a prize, doesn't he?"

Before Sanderson knew what was happening, Joseph had gagged him again and best friend moved towards him from the foot of the bed. He could see the light glinting on the blade and he knew he was going to die. Somehow he didn't fight it. In those split seconds a serene calm descended on him. When his jugular was sliced open he didn't feel it. He only felt the burning in the soles of his feet. And the wetness that gushed from his throat, warming his cold naked body.