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Herb went to Baltimore's Mount Vernon Stable and Saloon on North Charles Street several blocks up from the inner harbor fairly often for lunch. He didn't go there for the food, although it was good. He went there, first, because he didn't want to see any of his coworkers at Dunstan and Dunstan outside of the nearby office at Franklin and West Liberty and the Mount Vernon S and S was just edgy enough that none of the stuffed shirts in Dunstan and Dunstan were likely to come in here. And second, he came here for lunch exactly for its edginess. This was a gay- and lesbian-friendly establishment, but it was also popular enough with straights that you wouldn't be categorized if you were seen eating lunch here.

And Herb Dunstan didn't want to be categorized—at least in that way. And he'd been very careful not to reveal that he had preferences in that direction. He lived the perfect advertising firm vice president life (with every hope of being president when his father kicked off): a trophy wife; two glowing, bright children—the requisite older boy and younger girl; a big house in the planned community of Colombia, located half way between Baltimore and the nation's capital; a Lexus SUV for her and Mercedes sedan for him; a floppy dog of indeterminate breeding; and one and a half cats. (No one was really sure that their family could lay full claim to the roving tom, Luther.)

But Luther wasn't the only roving tom in the Dunstan family. Herb was a cruiser, and he had done most of his cruising while out of town on ...

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