Your Cave or Mine?

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Starsky threw wide a paneled door. “After you,” he invited courteously.

Hutch surveyed their new territory. Rocks and boulders seemed to constitute its dominant features, casting shadows on the rough, uneven stone surfaces of walls and ceiling…

Starsky hugged him closer, propelling him further into their cave and closing the door. Hutch hugged back… “Isn’t a cave going to be cold?” he suggested.

“Not this cave. Not when I’m right here with you…”

 

This story first appeared in the zine No Pants, No Badge, No Gun. Art is by TACS.

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Within the past ten minutes the December sky had darkened to deepest blue, the color that heralded night. Standing at the kitchen window, Hutch thought of Starsky’s eyes.

The mood dissolved as Starsky himself crossed the threshold of the shadowy room and paused to snap on the overhead light. Hutch turned around from the small jungle of plants along the sill, scattering drops from the watering-can in a large gesture toward the forest of geraniums. “They’ve really done well since we brought them indoors,” he announced with satisfaction.

“We? Seem to remember that was all your own work. Thought they’d be wintering in the greenhouse.” Starsky perched on the edge of the table, noticed for the first time the half-full mug of coffee and reached absently for it. “Or the garage,” he added around the first gulp. “You sure this place is going to be big enough for them and us?”

“Trust me–” Hutch began.

“Hey–that’s my line,” Starsky objected, as Hutch stepped back from the window and set down the watering-can. He detached the coffee mug from Starsky’s hold. “And give me that…” Resignedly, he surveyed the depleted contents.

Starsky forestalled the predictable irritation, initiating his own reproaches. “See what you just did? You lost him in all those leaves,” he complained. “Drowning him like that…” His hand reappeared from the depths of the dripping greenery. “Probably evaporated by now–your fault. Look–”

The rampant lion, nestled in Starsky’s palm, had lost some of its original glory, its former cat-tongue pink now several shades paler, yet still a special souvenir of past soapy scenes. Starsky ran a fingertip down the creature’s spine, reminiscent gaze fixed on Hutch.

“Yeah… well…” How long since they had brought home the miniature lion? “Soap doesn’t last forever, Starsk,” he pointed out.

“So maybe it’s time for a replay.” With sudden decision, Starsky flipped open the telephone book, found the place and punched out the number. The one-sided conversation seemed to take a while. Hutch remembered other times… Starsky taking charge, arranging matters with single-minded dedication… how about the call which had preceded that milk-train flight from the Caribbean, whose discomforts it would have taken more than a Godzilla movie to alleviate. Was this about to be revealed as another such scheme? Gloomily, he watched his partner, engrossed in the on-going animated exchanges.

With a triumphant air, Starsky finally replaced the receiver and turned back to him. “Gonna be okay,” he announced. “I wouldn’t settle for anything less than–”

“What?”

“Wanted you to have the cave room this time around.”

“Cave?”

“Cave. You know people stand in line for the cave?”

“Doesn’t sound too comfortable.”

Starsky looked complacent. “Wait ’til I get you there.”

“Where?”

“You know where. Booked us in weekend after the next one… should both have a little off-duty time then.”

“Why?”

“I have to tell you? We just agreed. Have to collect another lion. Could think of other reasons, too.”

Silently, they recalled some of the other reasons. “Why not have the room we had the last time? With that king-size bath tub. Bet a cave doesn’t even come with a bathroom.”

Picking up Hutch’s plant-marker pen, Starsky encircled a date more than a week ahead on the calendar. He winked at the pink lion as he returned it to the shade of the geranium leaves. “Think positive,” he reassured. “You’re gonna love this.”

*****

Canned caroling sounded and the parking-lot glittered under the candy-pink light bulbs as they headed for the motel entrance, past pink reindeer with silvery tinsel entwined around their antlers. “It’s Christmas,” Starsky reminded in defensive explanation. The foyer featured more seasonal decoration. They steered a trail through a plantation of rosy, plastic fir trees to pick up the key from the desk.

“Don’t ya like it?” Starsky asked.

Hutch removed an intrusive pink twig from his ear. “It’s very colorful, Starsk.”

“Yeah.” Starsky smiled happily. “Colorful is nice.”

Sighing heavily, Hutch followed him up the side staircase and along the hall.

Starsky threw wide a paneled door. “After you,” he invited courteously.

His worst presentiments confirmed, Hutch surveyed their new territory. Rocks and boulders seemed to constitute its dominant features, casting shadows on the rough, uneven stone surfaces of walls and ceiling. Fang-like teeth, bared in a ferocious snarl below gleaming yellow eyes prompted his involuntary step back, and he felt Starsky’s arms around his waist before Starsky reached to pat the grizzled muzzle of the wolf head resting on the rocky ledge.

“It’s just the decor,” he soothed.

Hutch shivered ostentatiously and Starsky hugged him closer, propelling him further into their cave and closing the door. Hutch hugged back. Over Starsky’s shoulder, he let his glance travel upward along the branches of some vast tree, which appeared to be growing out of the floor and through the roof.

“Isn’t a cave going to be cold?” he suggested.

“Not this cave. Not when I’m right here with you. Don’t you know that?”

“Where do we sleep? Under a stone? Hang from a branch?” He indicated the tree trunk.

“You like indoor plants,” Starsky reminded.

“Indoor plants are great–this is ridiculous… and where’s the bathroom?”

Starsky maneuvered him past the stone pillar just inside the door. “Around. Show you… Remember, I did check out this place last time we were here.” He led the way over to the glowing hearth and the welcome warmth of the open fire, with the fur rugs piled comfortably near.

“Just like camping,” Starsky said. “You love camping. Isn’t this something?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Knew you’d love it.”

The room was quiet save for the occasional crackle from the burning logs. Firelight threw warm flame shadows upon rocky walls. Light shone softly from crevices in the stone and from the hearth where Starsky was now kneeling, gazing into the flames.

Hutch found his misgivings in retreat… maybe a cave did have some amenities… not counting Starsky.

“Scores over Pine Lake,” Hutch approved, crossing to join him. “Not a snake in sight.”

“Plus–there’s this.” Starsky poured the wine, which a thoughtful room service provided, and raised the ruby glass in salutation. It was good to sit there together, savoring the warmth and the firelight and the wine, with the sense of–for once–having all the time in the world. Starsky set down their glasses and reached to capture Hutch’s hands and to draw him down to the soft, silky comfort of the skin rugs. They took in the expanse of black and white furry covers, sleek, shining and striped.

Hutch frowned… “Lot more than three of them there–”

“Don’t be dumb.” Starsky’s gaze followed his. “It’s not real zebra. They call it fun fur.”

A speculative look focused on him. “Figures,” Hutch conceded. “So–let’s try a little fun, huh?” The kiss went on… and on… satisfying… enriching.

“See?” Starsky took time out for breathing. “Told you… really getting into your part now… ”

Hutch felt Starsky’s fingers caressing the back of his neck, sliding lower beneath the collar of the cotton shirt. Under the circling pressure, he purred with pleasure. “Don’t need all this stuff,” he murmured. “Enough heat around here already…”

“Told you it wouldn’t be cold.” The rapid teamwork paid off and clothes joined the heaped-up furs as they clung close. “So–you like my cave?”

“Testing, testing…” Hutch said softly, his hands in their turn stroking, exploring, caressing. “Just browsing, babe… ” His mouth duplicated the paths his hands were taking.

“You see that?” Starsky was watching the black and white stripes as they blurred and rippled. “You’re blowin’ my cover…”

“More than just your cover…”

“I noticed… first time we ever made out on a black and white…”

“Still prefer you on blue,” Hutch appraised, “but you do something for the fur, too.”

He watched the flamelight barring in gold and amber the bronzed body beneath him, relaxed against the ebony and ivory backdrop. Starsky reached up to draw him nearer.

“Yeah? So–c’mere. Guess I’ve got the best of both worlds–cave room plus my personal, golden lion… ”

*****

“Let’s go check out the bathroom…” The drowsy suggestion came a while later as the flames were sinking into an orange glow. Starsky stirred and stretched, kissed again the shoulder where his mouth rested. “Has to be that way… over there… you bring the wine.” He gathered up glasses and made for the archway across the room. They stood surveying the rocky enclave, clearly designed to complement the rest of the apartment.

“I’m not trying to be difficult,” Hutch said after a minute. “But if this is the bathroom, where’s the shower? And could I just ask–where’s the tub?”

“Would you settle for a rock pool?” Starsky offered finally. He looked more closely, investigating. “And this rock pool could be one genuine Jacuzzi–” He pressed various metal knobs set into the stone and watched the gush of water with approval. “How about that? Can’t pass up all that.” Installed in a happy state, he extended the routine invitation. “Wanna share?”

Hutch entered into the spirit of the occasion, reservations abandoned. The image of some cold, comfortless cavern belonged to some other universe.

“I read about these,” he announced as he joined Starsky in the bubbly depths. “They’re said to be really–uh–invigorating after a heavy day.”

“Right… all these jets… and these sprays… catch this. Could be fun.”

“Health-giving investment.”

“That, too.”

Starsky refilled the glasses from the tub-side bottle. They leaned back, enjoying one more new kind of sharing.

“Time to move on?” Starsky suggested later. “This bottle’s out.”

Hutch got to his feet, steadied himself with one hand on a small outcrop of rock. The result was unexpected as a sparkling waterfall cascaded from a crevice less than a yard away.

“Hey–you found the shower,” Starsky discovered, scrambling out to join him under the spray.

“It’s like Niagara, “Hutch gasped. “Think they overdid the mountain spring effect.”

“We’ll find the controls next time.” Starsky shivered and ducked out of the spray.

Picking up one of the voluminous, simulated tiger-skin towels, Hutch draped it around his lover in artistic, creative folds.

“Nice,” he decided, “but I still prefer that unadorned look. More you, babe… like you said–no pants, no badge, no gun…”

Back in the bedroom, Starsky gestured towards the wide, low bed which filled the nearby alcove. “So–if it’s wildlife you’re into–care to give a demonstration?”

Twin pink lions stood side by side beneath a trailing fern. Starsky’s sweet-talking act had produced from reception not only soap but also a vast haul of motel memorabilia. Brochures, maps, guides, candy, matchbooks and postcards were scattered over the kitchen table. Hutch began leafing through a handful of postcard color-prints depicting in kitschy detail all the imaginative opulence of the past twenty-four hours.

“Place has hundreds of rooms,” Starsky commented in brooding awe.

“So many rooms, so little time. We’ll just have to work our way through.” Hutch considered the card he held. “How does this grab you?” He indicated a scarlet, circular bed which appeared to use up the entire floor space and Starsky raised an indulgent eyebrow.

“Whatever. Your turn… pick a card.”

Hutch held up another Technicolor print. “This one.” His tone was decisive. “This one matches your eyes.”

Starsky grinned back. “Classy,” he agreed. “Acceptable. So, all set for Groundhog Day, huh?”