“I bought a camcorder,” said Hutch, as soon as Starsky opened his door.

 

“That’s nice,” said Starsky, who had no idea why Hutch needed a camcorder.  Or for that matter, why he felt he had to bring it over to Starsky’s house.  Cutting edge technology wasn’t usually Hutch’s bag.

 

Hutch hoisted the large box in his arms a little higher.  “You told me we’d have to get film from the Super 8 camera professionally developed.  That’s why we couldn’t put anything pornographic on it,” he said.  “So I went out and bought us the latest Panasonic camcorder.  It’s capable to taping up to nine hours on a standard VHS tape.  When we’re done, all we do is pop it out and stick it in the VCR.”

 

On the other hand, sex definitely was Hutch’s bag.  And he’d been very put out when Starsky had explained the impracticality of filming the two of them together for real.

 

“I can’t play that format,” said Starsky.  “I’ve got a Beta, remember?”  Not to mention, Hutch was also very much into the concept of creative revenge.  After what Starsky had done to him the last time they’d gotten together, he was probably well within his rights to demand some.

 

“I bought a new VCR, too,” said Hutch, gesturing over his shoulder with his chin.  “Why don’t you get it out of the car while I bring this stuff in?”

 

Starsky didn’t move.  “The whole filming us thing was a joke, Hutch.  I didn’t mean we should really make a tape of us, uh...”  He stopped, overwhelmed by a vision of Hutch in a scrolling filmstrip of pornographic positions.

 

Hutch sighed.  “Sony Corp. v. Universal City Studios, 1984.  Home videotaping is legal in the United States.”

 

“But this ain’t a birthday party you’re planning to record.”  If anyone else ever saw it, they could both lose their jobs.  This whole plan was ridiculously dangerous.

 

Dangerous.  Starsky felt his groin tighten at the thought.  He shifted position uncomfortably.  God dammit, this was what always got him in trouble at work.  The minute things got exciting, his dick would stand at attention.

 

“This box is heavy and my arms are getting sore,” said Hutch, who was clearly tired of waiting on Starsky’s front step.  “Go get the VCR!”  Hutch stomped inside, using his shoulder to push Starsky out of his way.

 

All the way out to the car, Starsky’s mind raced.  He’d anticipated there’d be retribution after he’d tied Hutch to his bed last week, but this was far more elaborate than he’d expected.  Hutch was spending real money on this project.

 

Starsky pulled the brown cardboard box containing the VCR out of the back seat of Hutch’s car.  “Maybe,” he mused aloud, “he really is secretly rich.”

 

He shut the car door.  It swung open again.  Starsky tried again, this time using his foot to kick it closed.  “Or maybe,” he said, “he just saves a bucket load of money on car repairs.”

 

In any case, where Hutch had found the money for a camcorder and VCR wasn’t important.  Not compared to the very pressing question of what exactly Hutch planned to do with them.  Starsky imagined tying Hutch to the bed again and going down on him with the camcorder recording everything.  Kinky, but... intriguing.  And definitely dangerous.  His cock twitched again.

 

By the time Starsky got back up the stairs to the house, he was hard with anticipation.  He found Hutch sitting in the middle of the living room floor in front of the open camcorder box.  He put the VCR down on the floor next to Hutch.

 

Hutch glanced up just in time to catch Starsky with his hand down the front of his pants, adjusting himself.

 

“You’re a sex maniac.”  Hutch went back to reading the instruction booklet included with the camcorder.

 

Starsky didn’t try to deny it.  Stepping over the Styrofoam inserts scattered over his carpet, he picked up the camcorder.  It looked like a slightly smaller version of the cameras that newsmen carried.  He turned it on its side and popped open the cassette holder.

 

“This looks pretty straight forward,” said Starsky, as he examined the camcorder.  “Battery pack goes in here, tape goes in there, press the on button –.”  The camcorder began to hum loudly and he almost dropped it.  “Whoops!”

 

Hutch grimaced.  “Look, why don’t you go set that up in the bedroom.  I’ll get your new VCR hooked up to the TV.”

 

Starsky put the camcorder on his shoulder and pointed it at Hutch.  “Say, hi!”

 

“Hi,” said Hutch, waving distractedly.  He opened the VCR box.  “Where’s the instructions?”

 

Starsky tried a few of the knobs on the camcorder.  It wasn’t that different from his camera.  Within a minute, he’d found the focus wheel.  He tried zooming in on Hutch’s nose, but Hutch swatted him away.

 

“Starsk, I’m trying to concentrate!”  Hutch sounded exasperated.  He had found a folded insert and was squinting at the small print.

 

Starsky peered over his shoulder.  The diagram looked as if it was labeled in Japanese.

 

When Hutch got up onto his knees to dig right down into the bottom of the VCR box, Starsky scooted around behind him and got a good close up of his ass.  “You know, if you took off all your clothes, we could play hot lonely guy meets sexy repairman.”

 

“Get out of here,” bellowed Hutch.

 

Starsky sighed, switched off the camcorder and took it back to the bedroom.  He propped it up on the dresser, pointed it at the bed, and adjusted the focus.  Then he stepped back to admire his work.

 

It was a nice toy, decided Starsky.  Hutch had gone all out in purchasing a top of the line model.  They could really have some fun with this whole home movie trip.  Commercial pornos were nice, but to actually be able to watch himself screwing Hutch right through the bed...

 

Yeah, that wouldn’t be half bad.

 

Starsky peeked out into the living room, but Hutch was still bent over the VCR, muttering to himself.  He didn’t look like he wanted to be interrupted.

 

Having nothing else to do, Starsky adjusted the camcorder half an inch to the right.  He wondered what they’d do first.  Blowjobs were always fun, but having the camcorder on hand made him want to try something more inventive.

 

He took another look, absently fondling himself through his jeans.  Hutch was now surrounded by colored wires, cursing.

 

Starsky decided to get undressed.  As he unbuckled his belt, the dark lens of the camcorder caught his eye.  He paused, staring back at it.  “I wonder which is my best side?”

 

Quickly shucking his clothes off, he tried a few poses in front of the long mirror behind the bedroom door.  He sucked in his stomach and thrust out his chest, and decided his left side was his best. He flexed his biceps, and told himself he was in pretty good shape for a forty three year old guy.  Even the scars weren’t so bad, now that they had faded to silver gray.  They gave him an air of distinction. 

 

And there was his cock, standing stiffly to attention.  Starsky glanced down and grinned as a new idea occurred to him.  Grabbing the camcorder, Starsky sat down on the bed.  He stuck the camcorder between his legs, leaning over to make sure his cock was in focus.

 

“It’s the Mr. Happy show!” said Starsky in his best announcer’s voice.  “Hello, Mr. Happy, are you happy today?”

 

Sliding his forefinger and thumb up his shaft, he gently squeezed the very tip of his penis, folding it into a crease that – with a lot of imagination – resembled a mouth.  “Well,” he squeaked, making Mr. Happy’s mouth move.  “I’d be a lot happier if I had my extra special bestest friend with me.”

 

“Starsky, what the hell are you doing?” shouted Hutch from the living room.

 

“I’m playing with myself!” Starsky called back.  He waited a moment to see if Hutch would respond.

 

He didn’t.

 

Starsky stretched the crease on the head of his penis a little.  Now it looked sad.  “Poor Mr. Happy is turning into Mr. Lonely.  He’ll just have to make his own fun.”  He hummed a few bars of ‘Here We Go Around the Mulberry Bush’ and bobbed his penis from side to side as if it was dancing a little jig.  Then in an especially jolly voice, he said, “Guess what, kids, it’s Storytime!”

 

If Hutch would rather mess around with a VCR than properly entertain him, then Starsky could damn well make up his own fun.  After all, he’d been best friends with Mr. Happy for many more years than he’d been best friends with Hutch.

 

Starsky grabbed a Kleenex from the box beside the bed and folded it over the head of his penis, tying the ends back.  In a thickly accented voice, he said, “Hey, kids, I am Al Sheik-sky, sexy desert prince!  My story today is one of intrigue and danger.”

 

The sound of a throat clearing interrupted his narration.  Starsky looked up to see Hutch standing in the doorway with his arms crossed.

 

“And that!” said Starsky, still in character, “is my harem.  Everyone say hi to the harem!”

 

“You’re creating perverted children’s programming?”

 

Starsky chuckled as he pulled off Al Sheik-sky’s turban and crumpled it into a ball.  “Are you here to molest me, Mr. Hutchinson?”

 

Hutch picked up the camcorder and put it back on the dresser.  “I’m having second thoughts about the legality of it all.”  He sounded so serious, for a moment Starsky almost believed him.  But then Hutch said, “Because, you perverted delinquent, I don’t believe you’re old enough to consent.”

 

“You need to get those clothes off,” said Starsky, his mouth already watering at the thought of a naked Hutch.  He glanced at the camcorder.  “You should sit on that corner of the bed, kind of angled toward the middle.  I want to get both of us into the shot.”

 

“Forget it,” said Hutch.  “I’m running the show tonight.”

 

“Huh?”  Starsky tore his eyes away from the camcorder to stare at Hutch.

 

“Sit.”  Hutch pointed at the bed.

 

Starsky sat.  He’s going to tie me to the bed, he thought.  And I’ve got it coming because I did it to him first.

 

That was another important thing to remember about Hutch.  He might talk like a bleeding heart liberal, but he was big into the whole ‘eye for an eye’ concept.

 

Still fully clothed, Hutch walked to the end of the bed and looked down at Starsky, silently.

 

Starsky waited for him to speak.  Hutch had his poker face on and it was making Starsky increasingly nervous.  Tiring of craning his neck to look up, Starsky let his gaze travel down the length of Hutch’s lean body.  Never a bad sight, and today Hutch was definitely packing.  Starsky grinned at the bulge in Hutch’s pants.

 

Hutch still didn’t speak.

 

“Uh, Hutch?” asked Starsky, finally.  “What’s up?”  Besides you.

 

Now Hutch reached into his back pocket.  He pulled out his handcuffs and dangled them in front of Starsky’s eyes.

 

“Oh, no, no!” said Starsky, horrified.  “You can’t cuff me!”

 

Hutch swung the cuffs up and caught them in one hand.  “I won’t,” he said.  “Not without your permission.  But just think about it.  You’ll have to be very careful not to pull, no matter what I do, or you’ll just hurt your wrists.”

 

“No matter what you do?”  Starsky blinked.  “What are going to do?”

 

“That’s for me to know, and for you to find out.”  Hutch threaded his fingers through the cuffs.  “Well?”

 

Starsky shivered, suddenly cold.  He’d been tied up and cuffed several times before in his life, and it had never been a good experience.

 

I don’t want this, thought Starsky.  I don’t get off on bondage games.  They’re too dangerous.

 

Starsky opened his mouth to say no...

 

And what came out instead was, “Okay.”

 

“Really?”  asked Hutch.  “I can cuff you to the bed?”

 

No, thought Starsky.  “Yes,” said his traitorous mouth.  His cock stiffened, sending a pulse of pleasure right up through his chest.  Dangerous.

 

Hutch gave him a delighted smile.  Pushing him back down on the bed, he kissed Starsky, his lips claiming him with authority.

 

Starsky felt the last of his objections crumble as Hutch’s weight settled on top of him.  Sure, he thought, tie me up.  It only meant that Hutch would have to do all the work for a change.

 

“Move up,” murmured Hutch into his ear.

 

Starsky shivered and pushed against the end of the bed, trying to slide up toward the headboard.  He felt the head of his cock bump up against Hutch’s belly, and he groaned at the sensation.

 

Hutch lifted himself up onto his arms, moving with Starsky.  He was hard, too, his cock nudging into Starsky’s belly.  This shouldn’t take long, thought Starsky.  Hutch would cuff him, he’d shoot his wad, and then he’d uncuff him.  And then they could move on to making some real movies, preferably ones in which Starsky took Hutch up the ass.

 

When Starsky’s head hit the pillows he stopped and wrapped his legs around Hutch, pushing up against him.  They’d done this, too, before.  Just moved together, grinding to completion.  He pushed his cock into the crease between Hutch’s leg and groin, sliding on sweat-slickened skin.

 

Hutch grabbed his wrist and a sudden metallic snick brought Starsky out of his erotic haze.  He arched his back, trying to look at his wrist.

 

Hutch grabbed his shoulder.  “Roll over!”

 

Starsky was too surprised by his commanding tone to resist.  He landed awkwardly on his belly, his cock crushed beneath his stomach.  “Oh, God!”

 

Hutch straddled him, and pulled Starsky’s other arm up over his head.  In a second, Starsky was lying on his face with both his arms over his head, cuffed to the headboard.  Hutch’s weight pressed his cock into the sheets in a shockingly pleasant way.

 

“I don’t know about this,” said Starsky, nervously.  “What if you lose the key?”  Little sparks of pleasure were shooting along his nervous system, even as he clung to the last shreds of rationality.

 

Hutch’s lips tickled the back of Starsky’s neck, a series of feather light touches.  “Don’t you have the key?”

 

He was joking.  He had to be joking.  “C’mon Hutch, just tell me you’ve got the key!”  Starsky bucked and felt the cuffs dig into his wrists.

 

Teeth nibbled precisely at the top of his spine, working down his back, and making him squirm.  “Maybe I’ve lost it.”

 

“Hutch!”

 

Hutch swapped teeth for tongue and traced a cool path down to the small of his back, the heat of his breath making Starsky shiver.  Starsky felt each touch as if it was directly connected to his cock.  He squirmed helplessly, and tried to lift himself up onto his knees.  Hutch was almost at the cleft of his ass, and he couldn’t stand it any longer.

 

“Pah,” said Hutch, pulling back.

 

“What, what?” demanded Starsky.

 

“Got your hair on my tongue,” said Hutch, fastidiously.  “I think you’re shedding.”

 

“Not from my back!”  Starsky was proud of the fact that despite a reasonably thick pelt elsewhere, he did not have a hairy back.

 

“You’ve got a nice little patch, right here,” said Hutch.  His fingers stroked the small of Starsky’s back, each light touch making him shiver.

 

“Oh geez!”  Starsky began to hump the bed, grinding himself into the sheets.  It felt good, but it wasn’t enough.  “Just get me off, Hutch.  Please?  I love this whole bondage thing, really.”

 

“Patience.”

 

Starsky felt him move away and a moment later he heard the drawer open.  Twisting around to look, he saw Hutch pull out the jar of lube.  “Yeah, that’ll do it!”  Starsky pulled his knees up under himself once more, lifting himself off the bed.

 

Normally, when things were moving slower than Starsky thought they should, he would use his hands and his mouth on Hutch.  It didn’t take much to turn Hutch into a malleable pile of mush.

 

This time, however, he couldn’t do anything to Hutch, except talk to him.  “Get those pants off, and take me up the ass, you sexy beast!”

 

Hutch gave him an annoyed look.  “You’re crude.”

 

“Aw, c’mon Hutch!  You know you want to.”  Starsky could hardly feel his wrists anymore.  His cock was running the show.  “Just look at that hard-on you got for me.  You know all you want to do is stick that big old dick in there and start hammering me right through the mattress and into the floor.”  He wiggled his ass encouragingly and sniggered.  He sounded exactly like an actor in a real porno.  Probably looked like one, too, with the camcorder focused on his ass.

 

“Oh, big boy,” said Starsky, dramatically.  “Take me, take me now.  Impale me on your man meat!”  Yeah, he thought, that should make for some good film.

 

Hutch’s face turned several different shades of red.

 

Thrilled by the reaction he was getting, Starsky tried to remember other lines from the movies he’d seen.  “Stick it to me, baby.  Give me your, er... seven and a quarter inch python of love!  Give, umph, mmm –.”  Starsky suddenly found his mouth full of Hutch’s sock.

 

“That’s nine inches,” said Hutch, scowling.  He pulled off his sweatshirt.

 

Starsky pushed the sock out with his tongue.  It didn’t taste half as bad as it should have.  “Are you sure about that?  Because –.”

 

Hutch jammed the sock back in place and, to his horror, Starsky realized he was serious about gagging him.  Before he could spit the sock out again, Hutch seized his chin, holding it firmly in his hand.  Reaching for his sweatshirt, he wrapped it around Starsky’s face and tied the arms behind his head.  Starsky fought furiously, rubbing his cheeks against the sheets.  When he couldn’t loosen the gag, he kicked sideways at Hutch.

 

He made contact with Hutch’s hip and heard a satisfying grunt.  Hutch grabbed his ankle in a firm grip and Starsky found himself immobilized.

 

“Mmmph!” said Starsky, angrily.  Okay, maybe he’d run off at the mouth a bit, but gagging him was going too far.

 

Hutch yanked, and Starsky fell down onto his chest.  Pulling his belt out of his pants, Hutch tightened it around Starsky’s left ankle.  “I know exactly how long I am,” he said, as he tied the other end of the belt to the bottom left leg of the bed.  “And you’ll be getting all nine inches up your ass...”

 

Starsky groaned, caught between arousal and fury. 

 

“...when I am good and ready,” finished Hutch.  He leaned over and fixed the gag, positioning it well below Starsky’s nose, which he then kissed affectionately.  Standing up, he slid his pants down over his hips and stepped out, leaving them on the floor.

 

Tied at an angle across his bed, utterly immobilized and unable to say a word, Starsky thought that Hutch might actually be right about the nine inches.  Certainly his cock did look bigger than he’d ever seen it look before.  It was red and flush, and there was a tiny drop of liquid right at the tip.

 

Starsky grumbled, wordlessly. With Hutch’s sock in his mouth and his shirt wrapped around his chin, all he could smell, all he could taste was Hutch.  His cock was throbbing and his balls felt like they were twisting into knots.

 

Touch me.  You got your way.  You showed me who’s boss.  Now please, just get me off!

 

But Hutch was unbuttoning his shirt in a leisurely manner, pausing every now and then to rub his own chest.  He seemed completely unaware of Starsky’s desperate gaze.  When his shirt was completely undone, Hutch licked his fingertips and then touched his chest again, tracing circles around his hardening nipples.

 

Starsky forgot his anger, mesmerized by the sight of Hutch worked his way down his own body.  He didn’t think he’d ever seen Hutch look so breathtakingly gorgeous in his life.  He was toned and sleek, and even the flecks of gray twisted in among the blond only served to refine his beauty.

 

Finally, the last sock came off, and Hutch looked right at him, the corners of his eyes creased with amusement.  “Okay, I – ,” he started to say.

 

The phone rang.

 

Starsky howled incoherently through his gag.  Don’t answer it, don’t answer it, don’t –!

 

“Damn,” said Hutch, snatching up the phone beside the bed.  “Yes?”

 

Starsky waited, feeling terror crawl along his nerves.  Please don’t let it be work.  Please, please don’t let it be work.

 

“No, there’s no Alphonse here!” snapped Hutch.  “You’ve got the wrong number!”  He slammed the phone down.

 

Now, thought Starsky.  Now, now.  Oh God, now!  He felt the bed bounce as Hutch climbed onto it.  The hands that touched his hips were shaking and Hutch’s breathing was ragged.

 

Starsky bent his free leg up, trying to make access easier.  He heard Hutch open the jar of Vaseline and then cold fingers dipped in between his ass cheeks.

 

That’s more like it, thought Starsky.  He rotated his hips as much as his limited range of movement would allow, grinding himself back onto Hutch’s hand.  He felt fingers brush lightly over his prostate, and sparks went off in his head.  He squeezed his eyes shut, letting everything go as the electric sensations pulsed through his entire body.  He was so close.

 

The blunt head of Hutch’s cock pushed at his anus, and Starsky pushed back, wanting more, needing more.  His arms ached, and still it wasn’t enough.  He felt the fullness and the burn, and something more as well.  He whined, deep in his throat.

 

Then Hutch slid in all the way, and his hips began to move against Starsky’s.  With each push, Starsky’s cock was ground down into the bed.  His head buzzed and his body hummed tight with tension, and he felt himself teetering on the very edge.

 

He moaned helplessly through his gag, desperately wanting to ask Hutch to touch him.  Just one touch would be enough to bring him off.  But Hutch’s hands seemed to be glued to his hips.

 

Then suddenly Hutch made a sharp deep noise and pushed hard against Starsky’s ass, his fingers tightening painfully.  One spasmodic jerk of his body, and that was it.  Hutch had come and Starsky was stuck lying on the erection to end all erections.  He buried his face in the sheets, despairing.

 

He felt Hutch slide out, and a large warm hand caressed his back.  Starsky refused to look up.  He’d always thought blue balls were a myth, but now he knew they were real.  And they were killing him.

 

“I love you,” said Hutch.

 

No you don’t, thought Starsky, resentfully.  If you loved me, you’d have jerked me off by now.

 

Hutch’s hand slid down his leg, brushing over the back of his knee.  The light touch made Starsky twitch, shivers running up to his groin.  He groaned.

 

“You’re gorgeous,” said Hutch and there was a tone of wonder in his voice.  He unbuckled the belt, freeing Starsky’s leg.  Then he undid the cuff on his right wrist.  “Turn over.”

 

Starsky flopped over onto his back, his arms outstretched.  For just the briefest of moments the thought crossed his mind that he could jump Hutch’s bones and take control back.  But he was distracted by urgent messages from his crotch, and by the time he’d figured out what he wanted to do, Hutch had cuffed him back up to the head of the bed.  Starsky stretched up and wrapped his hands around the post, taking some of the pressure off his abused wrists.

 

“What do you want me to do now?” asked Hutch, his hand on Starsky’s stomach.

 

Starsky looked first down at his cock, which jutted angrily up toward his chin, and then he looked as significantly as he could up at Hutch.  Please.  Please, please do something about this.

 

Hutch patted him.  “Don’t move, okay?” he said.  “I really don’t want to have to explain to everyone tomorrow why your wrists are all chewed up.”

 

Too late, thought Starsky, now aware of a stinging burn centered around his wrists.  And anyway, whose fault is it?

 

Hutch crawled over him and positioned himself between Starsky’s legs.  His head lowered, and Starsky felt the first light touch of Hutch’s tongue, circling his nipples.  “Sometimes I think I’m the luckiest guy in the world,” said Hutch, his words sending vibrations through Starsky’s skin.

 

Starsky arched his back, trying to bring his cock closer to Hutch’s face but succeeding only in bumping it into his stomach.  Bastard, he thought.  Goddamn, stinking bastard.  Wait until I get him tied to my bed again.  We’ll show him who’s the luckiest guy in the world.

 

Hutch lifted his head and grimaced.  “Hair,” he said, pulling a curling dark chest hair out of his mouth.  Then he was down again, and this time his tongue dipped into Starsky’s belly button, rimming it around and around.

 

Starsky twisted helplessly, gripping Hutch’s body with his knees, his heels digging into the sheets.  He could feel sweat running down the back of his thighs.

 

Hutch sat up again and pulled another couple of hairs out of his mouth.  “God damn, Starsky.  Have you ever considered shaving?”

 

Starsky shook his head frantically.

 

Hutch smiled.  “I’ve made you wait long enough, haven’t I?”

 

Starsky nodded.

 

“Okay.”  Hutch placed a hand on each of Starsky’s knees and spread them apart.  Starsky pushed his hips up as Hutch bent down over his crotch.

 

Waves of pleasure chased each other up the length of Starsky’s body as Hutch’s lips closed over the sensitive head of his cock.  He shouted incoherently through his gag as Hutch wrapped his hand around his shaft.

 

Then Hutch squeezed and Starsky saw black dots in front of his eyes.  He arched his back. Hutch’s mouth was a soothing balm and an excruciating fire all at the same time.

 

Hutch pulled him in deeper, his tongue pressing Starsky’s cock against the roof of his mouth.  Starsky moved with him, gripping the head of the bed with both hands and pulling himself up.  Hutch began to stroke his shaft, tightening his grip as he moved his hand down toward Starsky’s groin.

 

Starsky jolted in his grip, feeling his balls contract more with each stroke.  One more thrust up off the bed, and he was falling over, convulsing helplessly as he came into Hutch’s mouth.

 

For a moment he couldn’t see anything at all, then the darkness retreated and he was desperately fighting to pull in enough air through his nose.

 

Hutch quickly crawled up his body and loosened the gag, pulling it off and throwing it on the floor.

 

Starsky gasped, his chest heaving.

 

“Are you okay?” asked Hutch, worriedly.

 

“Oh, man.”  Starsky’s head was spinning and he couldn’t feel his arms.  “Hutch?”

 

“I got you,” said Hutch.

 

Through watering eyes, Starsky saw Hutch lean over him, reaching for the head of the bed.  A metallic click, and a second later Starsky’s hands were free.

 

As Hutch rolled off to lie beside him, Starsky slowly lowered brought his hands down to rest on his stomach.  He was sweating all over, the hair on his arms plastered to the gleaming wet skin beneath.  His wrists weren’t as badly abraded as he’d imagined.  Just a little red.  He was definitely sore, though.  Every muscle felt as if it had been stretched to the limit.

 

“Well,” said Hutch, after a moment.  There was both bravado and nervousness in his voice.  “How was it for you?”

 

Starsky looked at the camcorder still humming across the room.  “First I want to see the tape.”

 

“And then?” asked Hutch, sounding worried.

 

“And then I want to think about my revenge.”

 

“Uh... revenge?”

 

Starsky smiled.

 

 

~end~