Justin peered out the window. Corn. What states have corn? Nebraska, Kansas, Oklahoma, maybe. No, no, he was pretty sure it wasn't one of those.

"Where the fuck are we? Iowa?"

"Illinois. It's east of the Mississippi." Chris could be really condescending sometimes.

"Looks like Iowa to me. I thought Illinois had Chicago or something."

Joey snorted. "There's more state than just Chicago. Though there might as well not be." Joey mused as he glanced at the passing scenery. Telephone pole, telephone pole, cow, corn, telephone pole, and so forth. Yep, looks a lot like Iowa. And Indiana. Justin gazed out the window some more. It was really hypnotic. JC was asleep, and Lance was supposedly doing work, but he was staring out the window, too, the same as the rest of them. Justin was the first to voice it.

"I'm bored."

No response.

He tried again.

"I'm bored." This time he poked Chris in the ribs with his foot and rubbed JC's back with his hand. He didn't get much more response.

"Wow, Justin, if you're that bored, why don't you do something with your friends? Gee, Justin, I don't know, maybe it's because this goddamn corn speeding past has sucked all the life out of them." Talking to himself got a response.

Lance shook his head as he spoke, "Fuck, he's having a breakdown. Put in a movie or something. I have to find something else to look at."

JC rolled over and snuggled into Justin's side. JC mumbled, "But we've seen all the movies."

Justin thought for a minute. "So, we'll have a theme. Movies set in Chicago? That's where we're headed."

Everyone mumbled approval. Chris was about to put the first tape in when Joey and Lance spoke firmly.

"Not On The Line."

Justin on Risky Business: "How did they get the Porsche out of Lake Michigan?"

Chris and Lance on The Fugitive: "You know they dye the river green for St. Patrick's Day?" "Huh, I thought it looked green all the time."

JC on Ferris Bueller's Day Off: "You know, I don't think it's humanly possible to do that all in one day. Unless time moves differently in Chicago."

But, it was The Blues Brothers that started it all. Chris noted that the film seemed to offer a pretty through tour of the Windy City, and that there must be tons of things they'd never seen there.

"Maybe we should do some sight-seeing. We have some time," Justin was talking to himself again.

Joey thought about the time involved in sightseeing with his friends. Then he thought about the stack of scripts he had to read. Then he thought about the relaxation he wouldn't get racing around the city with his four favorite people. He needed to beg off without pissing off his friends. How could he get them to go have fun without him?

Joey suddenly had a brilliant idea.

"How about a contest. Two teams, one city, lots of landmarks in which to engage in sexual activity. I'll keep score."

Chris and Lance glanced at each other while Justin rubbed JC's shoulder. Joey was pretty sure he had them, and his day of peace and quiet.

Chris had to ask, "So, how do we keep score, you know, when Lance and I win?"

JC was perched on Justin's back, rubbing the soreness out of his shoulders.

"We should get going. Sitting around in the hotel isn't going to win this bet."

"Hmmm? Yeah, right there. . . Isn't the Palmer House famous? We can get going right here."

JC leaned down and licked up the back of Justin's neck. "Ok. I think Lance and Chris only headed over to the Congress Hotel, anyway." His hands kneaded the curves of Justin's ass. "Don't worry, baby, we won't let them win."

They didn't leave their hotel room for a while.

Joey stretched as he looked out the window. He was looking forward to the day. A whole day to himself. He loved his friends, but occasionally, he needed some alone time. Every now and then, he needed a few minutes away from the insanely happy, gay couples.

He should have thought of a sex challenge weeks ago.

"Chris, where are we going?"

"Um, the west side. To see Mrs. O'Leary's barn."

Lance didn't understand his boyfriend sometimes. "Why do you want to see a barn?"

"The barn isn't there. It burned down. When the cow kicked over the lantern. Then the city burned down. Tragic, really." Chris hummed as he thumbed through his guidebook.

"What are you talking about?"

Chris pulled Lance's head down and sang quietly in Lance's ear, "One dark night, when we were all in bed. Old Lady Leary lit a candle in the shed. And when the cow kicked it over, he winked his eye and said, 'It's gonna be a hot time in the old town tonight.'"

Chris licked Lance's neck and yelled, "FIRE FIRE FIRE!"

Navy Pier was making JC a little nervous. He was on sensory overload, here. Too many things happening, yelling, flashing and whirring. And it was still broad daylight. But, just then, Justin tugged on his hand and pointed at the Ferris wheel.

"Oooooo, it's huge! Can we do that, JC?" How could he deny that wheedling tone?

So, they waited for the next car to come down and sat down. As they rose higher and higher, JC stared at the blue stretching into oblivion. He'd thought only oceans could be that massive, but he was wrong. He was studying the shining skyline on the other side when he felt a hand slip under his shirt and slide up his back. Justin nuzzled his ear and murmured, "We're here to fool around, not to admire the scenery."

JC turned around and the two of them got down to business.

"God, Maria, that feels good." Joey hadn't felt this relaxed in weeks. "Oh, right there, no a little, yes, oh, much better."

Joey really loved a good massage.

Chris and Lance ran down the stairs. They barely managed to squeeze through the doors as they closed. The voice of the subway very politely informed them that the next stop was North and Clybourn, and the doors would be opening on the right at North and Clybourn. Lance looked around the car. There was only a homeless man in the corner, apparently asleep.

"Hey! We're going underground!" Chris exclaimed. "You know what this reminds me of?"

"Please don't say On the Line."

"No, we're on a subway, doofus. It's like that one scene in Risky Business." Chris leaned across and ran his fingers through Lance's hair. He kissed Lance deeply. "Come on, I'll be the jaded prostitute who is saved by the purity of a young virgin."

Lance smiled. "I'm not a virgin."

Chris pushed him against the back of the seat. He ran his hands roughly up Lance's body. He occupied his mouth with Lance's earlobe. He licked a path down the curve of Lance's neck, nipping where he knew Lance was most sensitive. One hand slipped under Lance's shirt to caress his neck, the other slid down the back of Lance's pants to caress his ass.

Lance grabbed the rail above his head. His hand gripped the back of Chris' head, sifting through the dark hair and applying pressure occasionally. He bucked his pelvis suddenly.

"Did Jup teach you that one, Bass?"

Lance rotated his hips slowly. "Yup. Strictly as a dance move. Nothing hands on."

They kissed. Lance growled low in his throat, he sounded like sex. Chris pulled at their pants and rubbed their erections together. The familiar touch sent a shock up Lance's spine. His head jerked back and he hit it on the wall of the car.

Chris put his hand around the back of Lance's head. "Oh! I'm sorry. Are you ok? Should I-"

"No! Don't. . . just." Lance felt Chris' hand slide lower on his ass. He felt a cool, slick finger tease him. He leaned back against the wall. He felt lips and a tongue smooth over his jaw, soothing and exciting. Two hands were under him, pushing him up slightly, just enough. He stretched while teeth bit lightly on his earlobe, shifting and rocking slowly, following where his jaded prostitute led.

Lance tossed his head until he found Chris' mouth. They licked and kissed and fucked. When they were both lax, slumped against the wall, they noticed the homeless man again. He looked much less asleep. The recorded voice informed them they were pulling into Chicago, "and the doors open on the right at Chicago."

Entering the Green Mill was like stepping back in time. The marquee was missing some bulbs; only the "ill" was lit. The dim, smoky room was lined in dark wood. The mirrored wall behind the bar was lined with bottles. People sat around, sipping their drinks, tapping their toes to the music. It had history. JC could feel the gangsters, gun molls and jazz singers who had inhabited the old speakeasy. He slid into the plush, velvet booth the waitress while the waitress told them it had been Al Capone's personal booth. Justin ordered some drinks, but JC was entranced by the smoky blues sound coming from the stage. He was in the oldest jazz club in the country, sitting where the once powerful gangster had, listening to a woman sing about a man who done her wrong. JC was in heaven.

Their drinks arrived, and Justin picked his up with one hand. The other one dropped down to JC's lap, smoothed over his thigh. JC didn't appear to notice. He was still gazing at the singer. Justin rubbed across JC's pants until he found the fly. He carefully lowered the zipper and slid his hand around JC's cock. JC squeaked. The bartender looked sternly at them, and then pointed at the sign.

"Please be quiet and respectful during the performance."

Justin chuckled. "Yeah, JC, be quiet. You don't want to be rude."

JC glared at him. Justin put down his drink and slid under the table. He eased his hands under JC's waistband and tugged them down.

"Justin!" JC hissed.

"Shhhhhhhhhhhh. Quiet." Justin smiled as his tongue snaked out to the tip of JC's cock. He knew JC had a hard time staying quiet. Justin slid his tongue down, drew his mouth around, engulfing. JC gripped the edge of the plush booth, scratching the soft velvet. Justin's hands smoothed over JC's hips, massaging and holding them down all at once. Justin started to hum along with the singer. He heard a breathy sigh. He saw JC bite his lip, close his eyes, throw his head back. The veins stood out on his neck. The singer brought it home, and so did Justin.

The day was almost over. JC and Justin were dragging back towards the Palmer House, Justin mentally tabulating their score when JC sprinted towards some puzzley looking thing in front of a very shiny building.

"C! What the fuck?!"

JC's eyes were sparkling. "It's DuBuffet's Monument with Standing Beast. I love his work." He ducked his head and stepped inside. "Hey! What are you guys doing here?"

Lance and Chris were leaning against the white interior, wrapped around each other. Chris glared at JC, "Scram, we were here first."

The four yelled at each other until Chris squealed, "Gah! Put that light away!"

"What seems to be the trouble, gentlemen?" The words were spoken by a rather formidable-looking member of the Chicago Police Department. The quartet filed out of the sculpture.

Lance spoke, "I can explain, Officer. . ."

"Hey, you guys look familiar! I think my daughters listen to your music. You're O-Town, right?"

Chris' nostrils flared. Lance slapped a hand over his boyfriend's mouth. "No, sir, not O-Town."

The officer thought for a moment. "Right, there are only four of you. I know! 98 Degrees! Can you sign an autograph? My daughters would really love it. They think you're just great."

Chris was seething.

Justin pasted on his best polite-yet-earnest smile. "Of course, Officer. I'm Nick." He shook the cop's hand. "What can we sign for you?"

Chris kept the same brittle smile on his face as he signed the ticket as Drew Lachey. JC couldn't seem to stop giggling. And Lance was just glad they didn't get a citation for disturbing the peace. How would he explain that one?

Joey strolled back into the hotel suite. His bandmates were all slumped together in front of the TV.

"Rough day, guys? I had a wonderful one. Managed to get a great massage, you have to try this masseuse, J, she shows no mercy. Oh, and the risotto at the Italian Village is amazing. Lance, the tickets your assistant arranged were perfect. I love Mamet. God, it was like 'Death of a Fucking Salesman,' that play is just brilliant. The boss kind of reminds me of you, Lance. It was a great little neighborh-"

Someone flung the remote at Joey. It sailed by his head.

"Did you guys want something?"

Two hands shot in the air, holding pieces of paper. They had carefully detailed their sexual exploits in the Windy City. Lance appeared to have drawn diagrams.

Joey scanned them. "It's a tie. Good night. We're heading to Columbus tomorrow. I'm wiped."

Joey closed the door to his bedroom. The room was silent.

Justin piped up, "Are we going to pass more corn on the way to Columbus?"