“Wise decision,” Lucian agrees. He tilts my face up and kisses my forehead. Reaching into his shirt pocket, he pulls something out, cupping it in ...is fist so I can’t see it. “Now for my question.”A shaft of sunlight trickles through the dwindling clouds left by the storm. It strikes his face, bathing him in a golden glow. He looks perfect, almost angelic, yet his eyes glitter with a metallic sheen, lightening almost to copper. His pupils narrow, turning into slits. He blinks and the illusion is. It was an iconic celebration by the gay community and I had, in past years, furtively scanned the web admiring the colours and the confidence of the hundreds who marched with pride.And when I said to my brother that I might pop into town to see it, he reacted in a way that amazed me at the time; he was like, "whatever," just as if me going was the most okay thing in the world.So, I caught the train and walked through town to Oxford Street, dressed in jeans and a black tee-shirt, with red floral. I had arranged to meet her in a Champagne bar in St Pancras station on the 2nd floor above the Euro-star arrivals after her activities at 3 pm. However, I had another present to offer her. I have a buddy that I have known for 10 years and who had met Sally on a couple of occasions and I knew that they had got on alright. He had always wanted to fuck Sally and had talked on many a drunken night about what he would do with her if given the chance. I thought this would be a way to push Sally to. "But!"I nodded ruefully. "I know."Indeed I did. She was working with the Jaycees (yes, they exist and even flourish in the Big Apple) on the Special Olympics, a sports competition for "special" children. "Special" meant what we unenlightened but no-less-loving folk used to call "retarded," for the most part, and frequently, physically disabled. In addition to her routine 60-hour-plus-4 a.m.-Telex weeks, June donated her enormous energies and ingenuity to things like the Special Olympics. The.