"I want these unpacked and inventoried by tomorrow morning, Sandburg."

"What!? You can't be serious, man!"

"Deadly." Peter Wilson shot his hapless colleague a smirk, turned on his heel and strolled out of the warehouse. "I'll enjoy the party enough for both of us," floated back to Blair's ear just before the slam of the heavy door. Tonight wasn't just any party at Rainier it was the Annual Anthropology Gender Role Debate and All-Night Kegger.

"Shit!" Blair Sandburg surveyed the wooden crates with a critical eyes. "I am so dead," he muttered under his breath. "You just had to piss off the Dean's son, didn't you? Was it really any of your business what he was doing with that gerbil? Coulda been some kind of science experiment. Stupid, stupid stupid." Still berating himself, Sandburg resigned himself to an evening of splinters. If he hustled he might still be able to get to the party before the Porter Twins, Jenny and Jeremy, did their famous whipped cream lap dance with a twist. The very thought of that made his head spin so it was slightly dizzy that Sandburg set to work. He had at least twenty crates of varying sizes to unpack and if that wasn't enough, he would have to identify, label, photograph and log in each artifact. He started with the smallest. "Some kinda vase," he guessed, tossing it into the pile of objet d'crap he'd uncovered so far. It was like going through a really bad garage sale, one Rainier had spent a fortune on just because some old guy whose father and grandfather had roamed the world plundering treasure troves couldn't sell the shit on eBay. Well, this must have been the dregs of it all, Blair guessed, cause so far all he'd seen was worthless junk. Rainier had squandered god knew how much hard earned tuition money and the billions they got from student loans and grants on this. Sandburg shook his head in disgust. Sure, it would make some crusty old professor look good, and Rainier would probably get a good mention in the next Travel Washington book, but come on! He was missing the kegger!! .

"Oh god," Blair groaned, "another Victorian diorama. Will the wonders never cease?" He carefully cataloged it, old, musty box-like thing and took a blurry Poloroid before turning his attention to the largest crate. It was well after sunset, the moon had risen and moonlight streamed in from the rows of overhead skylight. A silvery pool had formed around the big crate, casting eerie shadows on the floor, shadows that seemed to shift and change. Blair sat on one of the empty boxes, wiping his sweat from his face and sipping water as he studied the crate. That was one big fucking box! Ten feet tall if it was an inch, five feet wide, man, if it was a stinking stuffed water buffalo he was outta there! The hair on the back of his neck tingled as if a static charge thrummed in the air while every cell in his body seemed to vibrate to some sub-audible hum. Blair shook his head to clear it and found himself standing at the foot of the crate, crowbar clutched in his white knuckled fist. Whatever was in that crate beckoned with an intensity he could not fight. Images of the Ark of the Covenant shot through his brain and he flinched back, only to be drawn close again. "This can't be good," he whispered.

The first nails came free with a banshee shriek that echoed off the far walls and hurtled back at him like arrows in an old western. Blair faltered, chest heaving and heart skipping several beats, then set back to work on the nails. It was hard work and sweat dripped in a steady stream from his chin by the time he removed the outside wooden box. The large object inside had been wrapped in thick blankets to protect it, these had been secured with rope. Sandburg reached in his pocket and drew out the Swiss Army knife he always carried. With trembling hands he cut through the ropes, unwinding them until a frayed pile littered the floor.

Sometime during his labors the moon had passed into clouds but when his hand touched the rough blankets and drew them away the moon broke free of her bonds. Milky light washed over the statue. Blair's breath caught, held captive by the alabaster beauty revealed before him. "Holy shit!" he gasped, unable to tear his gaze from the work of art before him. Naked, the embodiment of perfection, the statue towered over him on its pedestal. Ivory marble, so pale it glowed in the moonlight, had somehow taken on the form of a male body, rendered with a skill Blair had never seen before. He reached out, his hand caressing the smooth, cool surface of a calf, trailing down to trace the strong ankle and beautiful foot. "Ohmygod," he whispered. Blair could not take his eyes from the figure; it defied all concepts he'd ever held about such things. Michelangelo's David paled in comparison to this mesmerizing work of art, this was amazing, unlike anything Blait had ever seen before. His eyes traveled up and down the torso, cataloging every aspect of the statue, measuring its wank against his own. "Damn, must be compensation for something," he muttered. He saw how the narrow waist was slightly turned allowing the artist to depict the elegant muscles of the man's back, how the thighs and hips flexed as if he had been frozen in the act of taking a step.

Blair moved slowly around the figure, watching the play of moonlight over it, enthralled when the changing shadows seemed to impart life to the man. Moonlight painted across the broad chest, highlighting the swell of shoulders and the long, powerful arms. Blair touched one hand, surprised by the warmth he could feel in the slender fingers when an instant before it had felt cold. The surface of the statue looked different too, not the silvery white of marble now, but golden hued stone. He took a deep breath and let his eyes travel up to the face, knowing in his heart this too would be perfect. It was. The artist had gifted his work with strong, classic features, the square jaw and high cheekbones one would expect a master of his craft to leave behind. Each strand of short hair appeared perfect, the ears delicate, the nose sensual, and the eyes- the eyes were closed. Blair almost groaned, he sucked in another shuddering breath. He knew those eyes would be blue, not the dark blue of jewels but a cornflower blue, a sky blue. And when they looked at him it would be with love.

"Oh, man," he wailed, "gotta be some creepy Twilight Zone thing goin' on here." His voice sounded alien to his own ears and Blair raised one trembling hand to cover his mouth. He stepped back and when he did, his leg bumped the empty packing crate. The sudden wild urge, to drag it near, to climb up there and make sure the statue's eyes were not blue, were not open, struck him. He did it, dragged it up close and climbed onto top. It wobbled, throwing him back and forth until he fell against the stature. It felt different, not as hard as stone should be, firm but not immovable. Blair clung to the figure not seeing any harm in exploring all its charms. His hands fit its butt exactly, each cheek just the right size, he flexed his fingers, terrified yet elated when the marble beneath seemed to give just a little. "This can't be happening," he whispered but it was. With a last fleeting wave to sanity he rose onto tiptoe, shifting his hands until the perfect face was held between them then leaned in, brushing the cool marble lips with his own.

Bathed in moonlight, the mouth tasted like dew on the grass, like sunflowers in the wind. Blair deepened the kiss, moaning when marble melted into satin. Arms that moments ago could have crushed him, caught him in a hard embrace, holding him gently, the broad chest beneath his rose and fell with life and when he broke the kiss, Blair looked up into eyes the color of sky. "You're real," he said softly, too amazed to say more.

"I - I am," the figure replied. His voice sounded hoarse, cracking from disuse. He smiled, a gentle curving of the perfect mouth, "you re-leased me." The strong hands which had been locked on around his back fell away and the gorgeous man knelt with difficulty before Blair. "You must be - a powerful wi-zard," he said haltingly.

"Wizard? Whoa, hey, get up," Blair pulled at the man until he rose then jumped down from the pedestal. "Come on," he urged and the man slowly lowered himself to the floor. "Oh, hey, are you alright?"

"I will be," the man said, "my body does not remember the last time it moved so freely."

"Uh, yeah," Blair watched the other man, some parts of him moved more freely than others and damn, they were fine parts. The gorgeous hunk, formerly of marble now just a hunk, kept his eyes down, head slightly bowed and his arms limp at his side. "Can you explain what just happened?" Blair asked nervously. He had images of Peter Wilson waltzing back in and finding him with a naked man and there was no way in hell he was sharing.

"Yes, my lord, of course."

"Wait a minute," Blair snapped. He shoved his hair out of his eyes, pacing in short steps back and forth. "I'm not a lord or anything, okay? I'm a student." The man flinched at Blair's tone, his head dipping lower.

"I'm sorry, m - I'm sorry," he said in a whisper.

"Look, just, sit down and tell me what's going on, okay?" The man nodded and Blair laid out his jacket so he could sit on the crate. Splinters in the butt might be cute in some bad movie, but Blair knew from personal experience that having to make a trip to the ER for their removal was not only humiliating but downright expensive.

"My name is James E'Leson. My father was a rich merchant but he earned the curse of a gypsy and I as his sole heir fell under her hex as well. It was because of her son, the shepherd boy. My father was crossing the moor when he heard a distressed cry, being a good man he rushed to offer his aid. There was some slight confusion, my father never got around to explaining it to me properly but I'm sure he did not harm the sheep in any way. However, the shepherd boy told his mother who happened to be a Gypsy witch. My father spent the rest of his life with woolly - uh, nether regions and I got turned into a statue."

"Huh? What?" Blair roused himself from his stupor, "Sorry. I think you lost me somewhere after "My name is James......" He shrugged apologetically. "Listen, you wanna come home with me? I mean it's going to be kind of hard to explain to people how you got here." He waved a hand around the messing warehouse. In truth it wouldn't be hard to explain at all to people how a naked, well endowed man turned there - it was a university after all and they were used to that kind of thing but Blair thought the idea of a naked, well endowed man hanging around his apartment might be more fun.

"Yes, my - Blair," James said with a wistful sigh.

And so the pair left the warehouse, James wearing a kilt made from Blair's flannel shirt and went to the small efficiency apartment where Blair lived. For several days Blair found living with James to be a exciting and rewarding experience. He woke to the sight of the former statue curled up on the couch each morning and since James had grown use to being naked, he just naturally ran around the apartment in that state. He also cooked and cleaned and although Blair appreciated both he didn't like the little apron James wore when he cooked because it obstructed his view of James' endowment. But after a week or so, Blair began to notice a peculiar thing, other than the fact James had never suggested having sex together as way of paying rent, he noticed that James would sometimes freeze up. The first time it happened, it took a couple of minutes for Sandburg to realize that the hook on which he had just hung his coat was rather low for a hook.

"Sorry, buddy," he began, then stopped and stared into James' immobile face. He waved his hand in front of the glassy eyes. "James? James can you hear me?" It seemed like a long time but eventually James blinked and took a deep, shuddering breath. "What the hell was that?" Blair asked.

Jim, with a small sigh, said, "Nothing. I'm fine, Blair." He smiled, but it was a sad smile, one which quickly turned to a puzzled frown. "What's this coat doing here?"

"Oops, sorry."

And so another week passed and the periods of blankness rapidly increased. Blair's concern grew and came to a head the night of his 30th birthday. The day started well, he and James ate breakfast and then for a walk. They steered clear of Bayside Park because of James' unnatural fear of pigeons, and merely strolled the streets of Cascade window shopping. After the fourth window they were forced by the police to return to their apartment, store owners did not respond kindly to James' ringing accusations that they were exploiting poor, unfortunate curse victims.

"They aren't real," Blair insisted as he dragged James into the apartment and slammed the door in the nice police officer's face.

"I'm sorry," James said quietly. "I thought they were like me."

"It's not all about you, buddy," Blair said unjustified harshness. "It's isn't James' World and we're just livin' here, you know? " James nodded, though his frown said he had no idea what Blair was talking about. Blair busied himself with setting out munchies for the friends he had invited over to help him celebrate his birthday and so it wasn't until the doorbell rang that he realized James had again slipped into one of those strange fugues. There was no time to do anything about it. He rushed to the door and greeted his guests. They brought presents and laughter into the apartment but Blair found himself wishing they would all leave so he could tend to James. He was worried about James and not just because of all the coats, hats and scarves hanging all over him, he was worried because James did not seem happy there with him.

Eventually the party broke up - when Patti Miller started doing lewd things to Blair's new coat stand to the amusement of everyone but Blair. He kicked them all out and hurriedly wiped James down before reviving him. "Oh, no," James moaned when Blair told him what had happened. Well, not the part about Patti but the other part. And, not the part about being used as a coat stand, either. Okay, he didn't really tell James anything, he just let the man moan on his shoulder. "It happened again, didn't it?" James asked.

"Uh, well, yeah," Blair said, hoping James meant the zoneout not the Patti thing, because it had never happened before because it would be wrong to do things to a naked and well endowed man when he was not aware of anything that might be being done to him and besides Blair had destroyed all the photos so no one could prove anything. "Do you know what it is?" Blair asked. "I mean, I've been watching you and I think it might be your senses. I think you might have hyperactive senses and when you concentrate on one sensation, like touch," he ran his hand down James' corded forearm, "I think you're overwhelmed by the feeling." He shifted around, staring into James' eyes. "Or sight, you could drown in my eyes, the dark indigo might just draw you in and you could get lost in there in the depths. Or scent," he pulled the neck of his jacket, shirt, t-shirt, and undershirt away from his skin. "Maybe the musky, masculine scent of my warm flesh might trigger an animal arousal that would lock you into a prison of your own making. Or -"

"What the hell are you talking about?" James demanded. "I keep zoning out because the curse hasn't been broken, you dim-bulb!"

Hurt, but struggling manfully with it, Blair smacked him on the back of the head. "Look who's calling who a dim-bulb! I'm laying out some groundbreaking theories here and your spouting fairy tales."

"It's not a fairy tale," James said softly. "It's the truth. I will turn back into stone before the night is over."

Blair stared at him wild-eyed. "What? James, you can't!"

"I will unless the curse if broken."

"How? Tell me how!" Blair shouted. James flinched, covering his ears and glaring.

"I must have sex with my true love once in a blue moon." He sighed, shoulders slumping dramatically.

Blair stared at him, not so wild-eyed anymore, more like tame-eyed but with a little disbelief and some exasperation thrown in for good measure. "That's it? It doesn't involve a sheep?"

Now it was James' turn to glare and he did it quite well. "I'm allergic to wool."

"So, you just gotta have sex once in a blue moon?"

"Not just sex," James snapped. "I have to have sex with my true love." He shot Blair a quick, sidelong glance. "Know anyone who might fit the bill?"

Sandburg crawled onto the couch beside him, straddling James' thighs. "Yeah, I think I do." He kissed James, running his tongue around the man's lips and down his chin until he could nibble at the bobbing Adam's apple. James' hands came up, cupping Blair's ass and kneading the muscles. "Mmm," Blair whispered, "that hurts a little, James. James?" James raised his head, neck creaking. A look of horror seemed frozen on his face. "Ohmygod!" James was turning to stone right before his eyes. "Hurry!" Blair slipped off his lap and tried tugging James to his feet.

"Too - late," James said. His words were barely recognizable, his mouth had begun to harden. "No - blue - moon."

"No! Look!" Blair rushed to the balcony doors and flung them wide. There framed within them was a huge, silvery moon. "The second full moon of the month! A blue moon, James." James' eyes lit up, a faint smile managed to furl his lips. Blair wiped everything from the coffee table with a desperate arm and shoved James down. "Thank god some parts have hardened," he cried and went to work on softening James up.

And so they lived Happily Every After.

But James stopped running around the apartment naked and the police kept a close watch on their balcony whenever the moon was full.

The end.

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Author's Acknowledgement: Thanks to Patt for the cover.