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Chapters 16 - 24.

At least the ordeal was about over, I thought. I'd take him to the visiting residence facility now and try to forget him.

"I'd like to see more of Georgetown," Christophe said as he pulled on his briefs. "I understand that it was a town before the capital grew up around it. I feel like having a drink now. I've heard of a place up on P Street that I'd like to try. Do you have time to join me . . . and help guide me how to P Street? I'll buy."

"Sure, I'd be happy to," I responded. Oh, shit, I thought. When will the agony of this temptation end?

* * * *

I was surprised as we moved into Georgetown and Christophe told me what bar he was looking for. But I didn't know how to tell him about the bar and why Christophe might not want to go there after all. So, in my weakness and cowardice I said nothing and led Christophe into the bar, which was just down the street from the clinic and homeless shelter where I did volunteer work.

Still, when the bartender hailed me with a "Hi, Father Redmond. Haven't seen you around for a while," I felt his cheeks begin to burn and ready to shrivel up into a ball. I hastily ushered Christophe to a table near the back. It's true I hadn't been in here for more than a month. I only came in here when I was looking for someone who hadn't made his appointment for counseling at the clinic and I could be fairly certain the man would be in here.

"What made you pick this bar?" I asked as we settled at a downstairs table at The Fireplace on P Street.

"Monsignor Baum told me you volunteered time at a clinic in this neighborhood. I had hoped that your showing me around would include that-maybe it would be something I could help with too. I studied to be a doctor before entering the priesthood. I have a nursing degree. From the States even-Colombia in New York."

"Ah, I wondered by your English was impeccable," I said. "Did the monsignor tell you what sort of clinic it is?"

"Yes, of course," Christophe answered. "Does it embarrass you for it to be known that you work with gay men?"

"No, I suppose not. They need the support and succor of the church as anyone else," I answered. Did Christophe know, though, that the bar he had sought out was also gay friendly? I could have told that by looking around at who was in here. But Christophe wasn't looking around much. He was devoting his attention to me-almost to an embarrassing degree.

"Well, I'm relieved to hear that," he said, as he looked up and smiled at the bartender who had brought mugs of beer over to them. The bartender grinned back, which made me cringe a bit. Donny, the barman, was obviously gay and on the make. And we obviously were on friendly terms. Even the priests collars wasn't seen as a barrier to him if the man looked macho. And Christophe quite definitely looked macho. "I'm relieved to hear that because I don't want there to be any discomfort between us," Christophe said as he turned his attention back to me.

"Discomfort?" I asked, taking a big swig of my beer, setting up a barrier between me and any serious conversation with this man who was driving me wild in an arena that I was fighting mightily to stay out of.

"Yes, I want to fit in here at the university-and I want to fit in with you, in particular."

"Oh, well," I said, at a loss for words. I took another gulp of my beer. But I knew this wasn't a good idea either. It wouldn't be good to lose control to the booze. I'd let that happen before, with tragic results-although it certainly didn't seem that way as long as that ride lasted. I looked up into Christophe's face. He was taking a long draw on his beer too, but his eyes were boring into me from above the rim of the mug.

"Yes, I'm heartened that you work with the gays of the community and accept them. Acceptance is important with me-especially when it has to live in a world of secret where it suppresses and puts a man in isolation. I understand you are a counselor at this clinic of yours. You must counsel men who have this problem."

"Yes, of course," I answered.

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