Eric's Story

[EasyRory]

Part Twenty-three

Andrew, of course, wrecked our plans. “Ok,” he said, “No sex of any kind til the shoot is over. Tonight nothing; tomorrow nothing. Is that clear? I need you guys at full penis power tomorrow.”

“Andrew, you're making this sound like porn again.” Z sounded disgusted and gave the finger to the phone speaker.

It's not porn. It's just suggestive and maybe a little brutal.”

“Brutal? What the fuck?”

“Not brutal, exactly,” Andrew backpedaled. “Raw, that's what they're going for – and I need two bulging jocks. Clear? I'll see you at the plane.”

“You're coming? I'll need a fluffer, if you're watching.” Z clicked off the phone and looked at me.

“You might actually piss him off one of these days, Z.”

“The last shoot, for Fog? He said to me, 'Sorry I don't have any pills for your problem. I'll give you a blow job instead.' Pissed me off when he actually groped me.”

Z wasn't working that day, but left early for school. After he left I felt like a thief taking out the box of cash. C G A G F E D C, and it opened again. The money looked the same and it sure looked real. I counted it. One hundred hundred's to the stack and twenty-five stacks. A quarter of a million. There was a note at the bottom, that read 'Maintenance Fund' with a happy face hand drawn underneath. Again, I closed the box and put it away. It was unnerving having that much cash around.

I called Luke and then went to his apartment. With no preamble, I asked Mark what somebody does with a large amount of cash.

“Well, any cash transaction greater than ten thousand has to be reported to the government; any 'suspicious' transaction over five thousand has to be reported; and any transaction that appears to be part of a larger structure may be reported, depending on how scrupulous the receiver is.”

“Wow!”

“Come on, Eric. I took commercial law. I may look stupid; ok, let's say sometimes I act stupid; but I know this stuff.”

“The best thing to do would be to set up a front business that deals with a lot of cash, they're exempt from the rules; that's why a lot of the gangs operate real businesses – to launder their money. You'd be surprised how incredibly profitable some of these laundries can be. Are we talking a lot of money?”

“I think so.”

“For example ...” Mark probed.

“Two hundred and fifty thousand.”

“Is that all? Not as hard as I made it sound. It could be arranged. It would take a couple of months to do a good job. I might be able to handle it myself.” He eyed me, all but begging me to ask questions.

“Things are looking up?”

“You're probably looking at the next manager of the Oakland Cooperative Bank, Dingbat being the nominal CEO; can't have an Anglo in that job. The Mexicans are onboard with the deal. The blacks are chewing on the details.”

“Does he mind being called Dingbat?”

“Thinks it's funny.” Mark was not to be diverted. “What I could probably do is arrange for you to own some of the bank, with a reverse repo agreement.”

I shrugged. “Ok, I'll let you know.”

“Meanwhile, I did the Girls Night Out thing. And they offered to let me do some more. I need some cash to invest and the Chinese don't give a shit about the pictures. They don't believe anybody will pay for them.” Mark laughed at what he was sure was Chinese foolishness.

“What's the other stuff?”

“Gay porn. It's not such a big deal after all.”

“How do you know?”

Luke got up and walked to his bedroom at this point and Mark pointed at him. “He's a great guy and I owe it all to you,” he said. “I would have done it with you, but you kept putting me off. Besides you would only agree to a blow job.”

“Mark! I never agreed ...”

“Gotcha! Anyway, I now know I can handle the gay stuff. And Luke, he's so cool about it. He really helped me get over that initial hump, so to speak. It turns out all sex is good sex. The world didn't end because Luke and I have been messing around.”

“Messing around a lot?”

“I am living here, Eric. What do you think? Yes, a lot. Every way we can think up. We're both ok with things.”

Going back to my house I thought if gay Spike can be happy with Julie, maybe straight Mark could be happy with Luke? Love overcomes labels? Now and then, maybe, but probably not in any reliable way.

At the house Laurie, Cal, and Z were having pizza. More accurately Laurie and Z were watching Cal have a couple pizzas to celebrate being asked to more try-outs.

Z winked and said “I'm gonna be so lean and hard tomorrow, Andrew will want to grope me again.” Cal choked on his pizza when he heard that and tried to blame the pepperoni. “Quit looking so cute or I'll kiss you goodnight,” Z said to Cal. Instead he kissed me.

“You guys are …?” Cal let the rest trail off.

“Fucking? As soon as our agent lets us.” That was Z's parting shot and he went up to his room.

Cal wasn't disturbed, just surprised. “Nooooo shit. You look so normal.”

“Cal!” Laurie cautioned, “they are normal and I couldn't want better roommates. Plus they both know better than you how to please a woman.”

“Sis, stop. I don't want to know.” Cal looked at my crotch and then at the ceiling and then at the pizza. “How would you know how good I am anyway?”

Laurie looked at him and drummed her fingers on the table. “Remember Cheryl? The Mouth of Modesto? She even told people your sperm count. She said your dick ...”

“Jeez!” Cal was beet red. “How did this get to be about me?”

I said goodnight and went to my room. The box was still there in my drawer; so were its contents.

We met Andrew at the Oakland airport, flew to Burbank, and took a cab to a studio annex that had once been part of Disney. The sets were ready, the clothes were clean, and everybody was on time.

It was fun seeing Maddie and Tanyeli again. Although Z and I weren't anywhere near as important, we had got almost to the point of being able to discuss or should I say gossip about the industry. According to the girls, Andrew was a very benign version of the barracudas in the business. “All he did was grope you?” Tanyeli asked. “Once I had to go through with fucking a guy.”

“What did you do?” Z asked.

“I did it, but I did it badly. I squeezed him out just as he was coming. Now I have a rep as a lousy lay, but it keeps the creeps away.”

I laughed but confided to Maddie that I didn't know how much of that to believe and felt better when she said, “Not much.”

Z and I were fairly well dressed in this shoot. The set was a dark club scene; we were supposed to stand around looking sexy and sipping tequila from tall shot glasses. For the second half of the shoot we were in an expensive looking version of 'the shorts' and made up to look rougher, with beard stubble and smudgy makeup. The idea was that we would first look like normal girls' dates at a club and then our images would morph in the girls' view into the hotter version.

The only difficult part was the debate over how big our bulges should look. Lots of poking and prodding of the goods went on. One thought was that we should look pretty explicit, semi-erect, and barely obscured by transparent gauze; the other idea was our bulges should be apparent but suggestive rather than detailed. So naturally, both versions were shot.

It took all day and we were going to be lucky to catch a late flight back north. With less than two hours to plane time, the director said we were done and thanked me for my work. “Z could you stay another day? There are some other things we'd like to try.”

He looked at me plaintively but agreed to stay.

Oh well, I thought, I'll see him tomorrow. I had a miserable flight back to Oakland with a fat lady on the aisle and Andrew in the middle seat using her as an excuse to lean all over me. I tried to keep my generous pay in mind, but hissed at Andrew, “If you touch my cock, I'll break your hand.”

“Eric, you're so dramatic,” he said and squeezed my thigh. “Listen, you want to go out for a drink after we land?”

“I want to stay in and sleep; I have school and work tomorrow.”

“You are doing well with us. Why don't you quit that stuff? If you promoted yourself more, you could do really well.”

“Promoted myself. Like how?”

“Let me get you on some local talk shows; we'll see how the public responds.”

“Ok, but you have to work around my class schedule.”

I slept badly and the next day dragged. Work was dull for change, another quiet night. We did lots of work on the ambulances and finally a practice drive to pick up some pizza for the rest of the crew. Finally I got home to an empty house. Laurie and Cal had planned to go to Stockton when his second try-out was over.

I was nervously about to see if the box was still where I had left it when the phone rang. It was Z. “Where are you?”

“I'm on a plane about to land in New York. The job has kind of ballooned.” He explained that the director had sold another client on making Z the signature model for a line of casual clothes. “I'm just going for an interview. I'll probably be on my way home tomorrow.”

I adjusted to another night's delay, but the following night, he told me it would be a week or ten days. I asked him what he would do about school and he said he sent them a withdrawal notice earlier in the day. That was a drastic step, it seemed to me. I wondered what kind of advice Z was getting.

The maintenance estimate on Mrs. Peralta's house came. There were some major expenses, like a new roof and rewiring, but they were a few years away. It looked as if I could have a good deal for at least a year or two. I asked Laurie if she was interested in moving and she was noncommittal; it seemed introducing Cal to her friend and been a successful move.

The next day at work I talked to Luke about it and he couldn't think of a downside. “If everything turns to shit, what did it cost you? Mostly the aggravation of moving and finding another place. There are always vacancies at the Tiki.”

We were sent to the Tiki later that night. The dispatcher called it 'The Night of the Endless Fuck.'

The ingenious couple in 103S had attempted to combine the best features of a penis and a dildo According to the participants, who were locked together like dogs fucking, the penis in active use had an inflatable bulb attached by duct tape that was hooked to a manual air compressor by a very small hose. The idea was that the fucker would enjoy the sex more or less in the usual way while the fuckee would enjoy, those were the couple's words, would enjoy a much larger event going on near his prostate. So far the fuckee had come twice, but the fucker was in pain from the duct tape, some chemical reaction maybe or just loss of blood supply, and in his attempts to escape had pulled the hose out of the bulb, making it impossible to deflate.

I still think we could have just pulled them apart without too much pain; but Luke had lessons in mind. We loaded them both on the gurney, glad it was a ground floor apartment and rolled them to the ambulance. Luke kept up a stream of chatter. “I wonder how they'll do this. Maybe go in through the mouth. Or they could just cut his rectum open, but that's often so damaging. It would never close right again. Risks damage to the penis also; but that is almost always repairable if size isn't real important. It might be possible to inject solvents to dissolve the adhesive, but that would probably dissolve everything else, too. Well, many choices; up you go,” Luke said cheerily as we loaded the gurney.

I had to ride in the back with the couple and listen to the regrets and the bickering. Finally I kicked the frame of the gurney and told them to shut up. It wasn't my best day. I was horny and unfairly blaming Z for his absence.

Spike showed up at break time and said, “Tomorrow's the big day. Man, I hope I'm doing the right thing.”

“Straight guys worry about that, too. Don't put any special burdens on yourself.”

Spike felt a bit of reassurance. “Thanks, Eric. You know I still think of what we did, the three of us. If my memory of that night runs low, you think you could charge it up now and then?”

“Sure, Spike. Think of me as a gas station.”

He couldn't tell if I was joking and decided I wasn't. “Sorry.” I patted his shoulder, congratulated him on his wedding, and left.

At the end of my shift, I started home and walked past Mrs. Peralta's house. It was a nice old Victorian, not one of the big ones, but two full stories with a big-windowed basement that was only half in the ground. The front porch swing made me want to stop and sit. It had been vacant and looked a little neglected, but it sure was close to work, although a little farther from school. I decided to take it.

 

[DonQuixote]

Rory,
They're taking Z away from us?
He's withdrawn from school?

Bummer. I mean, he might do GREAT at being the Poster Boy for a major campaign, but school is still important, an so are healthy relationships.

A reverse Repo situation for partial ownership in a bank.

This is sounding like a multi-cultural lending ? institution.

There are always bank safety deposit boxes that Eric could stash the cash in, quietly, with the banks not knowing what the contents are - that might give him a little more ease in sleeping at night and being away during the day.
(I know, but that also might be too boring for the story line, lol.)


Hey, if I may, a minor call out for another new author here - mainstream literature with a bit of a sci-fi overtone. In case you, or any of your readers are interested.

http://www.justusboys.com/forum/showthread.php?t=308938

Thanks, again, Rory, for continuing your efforts for us.

 

[EasyRory]

Part Twenty-Four


I didn't know how to contact Z so I asked Andrew to pass on the news that I was planning to move to the house on San Antonio and that I'd move his stuff, too. In return Andrew conveyed the news that he had me booked on a talk show for local celebrities.

“I'm a celebrity?”

“No, but the shorts are. Google the show and checkout the trailer for your episode. It'll air on Thursday and shoot on Wednesday morning.”

I checked and the episode title was 'New Faces', and the splash screen was one of the stills from Lenny's first shoot. It started with a screen-filling shot of 'the shorts' followed by a slow pan up my body ending in a head shot. They listed Eric Malone, Anna Gale, and Trevor Jakes as guests.

At the taping the announcer was good enough I guess. Andrew told me to be ready to tell him about attending school and my various jobs. On the set we chatted for a while and mostly he asked me about the shorts. “So ladies,” he said to the audience, “You want to see Eric wearing the shorts?” The audience screamed and clapped so I changed into some shorts they gave me and came back on stage to more applause. Then a buzzer went off and I became part of a lottery gimmick, still wearing just the shorts. I was supposed to pull marbles out of a fish bowl and if I got two blues in a row I'd win a car.

“Actually, ladies, nobody ever wins this; it's just an excuse to keep Eric around in his shorts.” More screaming came from the audience.

“If, Eric, I say, if … you pull out two blue marbles in a row you will win a Mazda Miata.” After milking more screams from the audience, he broke for an insert of ads. I stood waiting stupidly during the brief break while the host had his makeup adjusted and drank some water. We resumed. “All right. In this bowl are twenty-two marbles. Eight of them are blue. Can you do it, Eric?” He held the bowl up so I had to stretch, emphasizing my minimally clad body. There was a drum roll and I pulled out a blue marble. “Wow, folks, can he do it again?”

Well it turned out that I could and did. “You're watching history! It's never happened before on this show. What is the chance of that?” screamed the host.

“About 12 percent.”

“What?” The host was off balance.

“About 12 percent. That is the probability of pulling two blue marbles out of the bowl.”

“How do you know?”

“I'm taking statistics at the College of Alameda.”

“Well, that Miata is gonna look great on campus!”

“Could I maybe have a Ford instead? A Miata won't last overnight in my neighborhood.”

The audience howled and we took another break.

“Great for ratings, kid, but Mazda is gonna be pissed,” the host told me.

While the young actress Anna Gale took her turn guesting I changed back into my clothes and prepared to leave. A producer asked me to wait and rejoin the show for the last segment. So while the baseball player Trevor Jakes was being interviewed, Anna and I sat on a sofa next to him. Trevor's big thing was complaining about his inability to get dates. The host turned to Anna and me and said, “Any suggestions?”

I piped up, “Trevor, you just need a little confidence. Every time you look at Anna, every muscle in your body is telling her 'I'm just here to make you happy'. What woman is going to say no to that? Right, Anna?” Screams from the audience.

Anna was flustered and blushed almost sweetly. “Why, yes.”

The host did a practiced mug at the camera and asked, “Who's running this show?”

“Ask her out right now, Trevor,” I pushed.

“Do you want to go to a team party with me tonight?”

The audience screamed “Yes! Yes!”

Anna nodded her head and said “Yes.” The audience cheered.

After another break the host explained to the audience that a Ford official had called and offered to replace the Miata with a Mustang. He put the guy on a speaker phone and he presented me with the car.

“How about a Focus Wagon instead?” I bargained.

“Er... we don't make those anymore.”

“A used one would be ok.” I countered. Again the audience cheered and the show ended.

A producer told me they wanted to rebook me in about two weeks. I nodded and said, “Sounds good. Talk to my agent, ok?”

The Bart ride to Oakland and the bus to Alameda put my feet back on the ground. Although the scale wage for the tv show was a little over seven hundred, it didn't inspire me to take a taxi and wasn't as satisfying as being an EMT for much less.

Laurie was back at the house and said things were looking good for her brother, who was put under option to the Sabercats but lousy for the team itself. Attendance sucked and the tv revenues were about what I made in my one morning. The team was losing tons of money. I agreed when she asked me if I wanted to work a luncheon job on Friday.

“Thanks Eric. I don't know who else to ask with Z gone. How's he doing? Any word?”

“Nothing. Just that he'd be back in a week or so. That was a week ago.”

The phone rang and it was Andrew saying the tv producer had called and wanted me to come back so they could give me an old Ford. “What's that about?”

“Watch tomorrow's show. All will be explained. Have you heard from Z? Did you give him my message?”

“Um.. He's hard to keep track of. I think he's in Milan. I haven't been able to give him your message. When are you moving anyway?”

“In a couple weeks. I'll let you know.”

Friday I went to work with Laurie. It was a PTA luncheon for Amelia Earhart School at the Harbor Bay Club. An hour's drinks, mostly gin and tonics were served and then there was wine. Things were loosening up while the attendees picked out seats for the food. The maitre d' signaled go and we started asking our tables for their main course choices. Everything was going fine until one woman at another table shouted and pointed, “Weren't you on Bay Area Banter yesterday? I watched the rerun at midnight just to have another look at those shorts.”

Bay Area Banter is a popular show among women with nothing else to do. Lots of the PTA had seen me and came up for a closer look. They surged forward. There was some shoving and a large tray was knocked out of another waiter's hands. Luncheon for eight landed on a table for twelve and several dishes of crab ceviche were launched in retaliation. Errant throws involved another table that had only the bread baskets to throw. My shirt was ripped. The woman really wasn't trying to tear it off, she was just trying to stay on her feet. I barely heard her say, “I'm sorry,” before she and half my shirt were lost in the mob.

Those women were fast and feisty. Every time the maitre d' thought he had it under control, things blew up again. It was only playful but by the time the cops arrived they had my pants down around my knees. I'll say they had the decency not to mess with my underwear; these were mothers, after all.

Since the invention of phones with cameras, nothing can ever be hushed up. Some pictures made the six o'clock news; more were shown at eleven, and, according to Andrew, the next day's Bay Area Banter showed a lengthy sequence featuring my clothes coming off.

Andrew and the agency were delighted. The head of the agency issued a pompous statement decrying the molestation of one of its models; they never mentioned me but got their own name in several times. To tell the truth I thought it was pretty funny, especially after the Club and the PTA gave me a sizable spiff on top of my regular pay.

Monday at school I was sought by a few reporters, but compared to the Harbor Bay women, they were polite and easily satisfied. A couple of comments and a couple of pictures made everybody happy.

A couple of people tried to interview me at the hospital but Luke fended them off, saying I was with a patient. Then we were called out to a car crash and reporters followed, which annoyed the police. After they complained, the hospital put me on special assignment, which meant working out of sight and waiting for the attention to die out.

This uproar took my mind off Z's absence, but it didn't keep me company at night.
I went back on the tv show where I had to listen to some girls propose marriage to me and then tell them how to do it better. Then they showed pictures of me in the food fight. Finally Ford gave me a used Focus, totally stock except for a great sound system. I had wheels for the first time since I'd left home.

This was fun except at night I was lying in bed alone, missing Z and horny. For all the lewd offers and preposterous propositions I was getting from my fans, I was getting zero actual sex.

 

[DonQuixote]

Rory,
I guess Eric's 15 minutes of local fame is getting a bit longer, while Z is Lord knows where - Milan?!

He may become a supermodel. Here's hoping he isn't encouraged to party too hearty, and winds up hooked on crack. Those limelights can be pretty seductive, as can the professionals in the biz . . .

 

[EasyRory]

Part Twenty-five


In the morning I stopped at Andrew's apartment after the Bay Banter taping to review the results of the LA shoot. The day-two shots of Z were unlike any I'd seen before. They emphasized his dark coloring and made him look more sleek and professional. I thought the makeup was a little heavy, but Andrew said it would be adjusted in the final prints.

“You seem pretty interested in Z,” Andrew said. “You guys have something going on, huh, Eric.” It was a statement; he wasn't asking questions.

“Nothing to worry about,” I tried to brush him off.

Andrew closed the shades, making the room very dark and said, “I have something to show you. Lean back on the sofa and watch the show.”

A projection system began showing various shots of Z and myself. The shots were often in monochrome, but not always black and white, sometimes it was a blue wash, sometimes red. The shots started showing us nude in various poses. Then one showed Z touching himself. It alternated with a red shot of Z grinning and licking his lips. Each flip showed Z's cock growing increasingly hard. Finally he was holding his erection out to the camera and pouting. I looked over at Andrew and he had taken off his shirt and pants.

“What the fuck, Andrew?” He was rubbing his cock through his tight briefs and staring at Z. He came and sat next to me, “Why don't you take these off for me, Eric?” He put my hand on the bulging cloth.

I pulled away. “Quit it Andrew. You said you'd get rid of these.”

“You told me to keep 'em, remember. And I added to the collection. You like the ones of Z?” He pulled the briefs down and hooked the waistband under his balls, stroking his cock. I noticed an odd dark spot on it. He was much bigger than I remembered from the time I accidentally caught him jacking off. He was leaning against me. I could feel his breath on my neck. “I've done a lot for you. Time to give me a little help, Eric.”

Shit. His cock was mesmerizing, shining in the light and glowing different colors as it reflected the slideshow. I couldn't look away. The dark spot was a large black mole shaped like a football on the underside and his tip glistened with moisture. “Let's start with a lick.” He pulled me by the back of my neck toward his cock. I resisted. “No? Not yet? Maybe you'd like to see more of the picture show.”

The next picture showed Z sucking Andrew's cock. “No, I don't believe that.”

“Believe it now, Eric?” More variations of the picture flashed on the wall. Some made it look like Z was forced and unwilling; others made him look eager and wanting more.

“Oh, there's more Eric.” And there was; it hurt seeing Z on his back with his legs in the air, stroking and squirming. “And it's gonna get better when I see him next week. I figure I'll pop him a little ecstasy and Z will be my bitch. You know how he gets. You don't want that to happen, do you?”

“Bet your ass I don't.” I started to get up.

“Well it doesn't have to happen. You can stop it. You know what you have to do.” He paused and, wagging his cock, said, “Time for a little help, Eric. Suck it.” He bent his straining erection out to me. I hesitated. The red gnarled mass of his penis moved closer; a drop of precum fell from the tip.

“Come on, you want to save Z, don't you? Can't have old Andrew fucking his brains out. Better get busy, Eric. Save your lover the pain, the humiliation of me fucking his ass. You know I can get him to take the E. Start by getting naked.”

I took off my shirt and sat down. Andrew stood in front of me; he hit me in the face with his cock and twisted my nipples. “More.” I removed my jeans and sat in my underwear. “Good. Open wide, bitch.” He pushed himself into my mouth. I gagged. It tasted like he hadn't washed in days. He pushed farther into my throat and I gagged again. “Take it, fucker. And don't let me feel a tooth,” Andrew snarled.

I wanted to get up and run, but my arms and legs felt like cement; I was locked in place. “More,” Andrew ordered. “Get me nice and wet.” I complied. “You know what's next, don't you?” Andrew's teeth looked menacing. “It's fuck time. Pull your knees up to your chest.” I refused.

“Either you get fucked or Z does. Make up your mind, Eric.”

I slid my underwear down and was about to take them off completely, but he said, “Leave 'em around your ankles. Nothing romantic about this. All I want is your ass. Show me that pucker. I'm gonna own you.”

He plunged into me. The pain tore through me. I felt tears splashing down my face. His thrusts were deep, as far as he could go. He pumping me hard and then he suddenly pulled out. His cock looked huge.

“What's on my cock? A little blood? You know what, Eric. You and Z have been so shitty to me, I think I'll fuck you both.”

The real horror was that I came as he entered me again, spewing my come all over my chest. “I'll fuck you both!” He continued thrusting. “How are you gonna like that Eric … Eric … Eric ...”

“Eric! ERIC!! You're having a nightmare.” Laurie shook my arm. I struggled, unable to rise, my arms and torso were trapped by the blanket that was wrapped around me. Gradually the scene of Andrew faded and Laurie's face appeared.

“Oh, it's you. My God!” I guess I looked saner than I felt; she backed away and asked if I was alright. “Yes, I'm ok; just a dream.”

Laurie left and I untangled myself from the blanket. The sheet and my abdomen were still wet with my sperm. I felt the sweaty panic of unwanted sex and a revulsion at the thought of Andrew. Telling myself it wasn't really Andrew didn't help.

I was rattled by the nightmare all day at school and that night at work told Luke most of the details. Together we figured out how the incidents in the dream were just a twisted version of real incidents in my life. Luked asked when I had sex last and I told him before the LA trip. “Well, no wonder you're having nightmares. You miss Z and you're super horny. Forget the dream and consider committing a little infidelity,” Luke advised. But it wasn't that easy; the dream seemed more realistic than my life lately. And my ass physically ached, but Luke dismissed that as psychosomatic.

The next morning Andrew called and said there was a shoot with Maddie at dawn day after tomorrow. I agreed. It was hard to talk to Andrew, even after a day had passed; but I had to ask him, “Andrew, this is going to sound strange, but do you have a mole shaped like a football on your penis?”

“Have you and my penis been going out without telling me? Yes. It's not a mole, exactly, just a discoloration. How did you know?”

“I have no idea.”

“Well, Eric, if you ever get any ideas, let me know.” He said it as a joke, but I couldn't banter with him. I punched off and stared at the phone, seeing the specter of his birthmarked cock looming in my mind.

Then I got an unexpected phone call. “Eric, it's Trevor Jakes. I wanted to thank you for your getting me that date with Anna.”

It took a minute for my caller to register. “Right. It was nothing. You did it all, Trevor. I just pushed a little.”

“Call me Hammer. I hate that 'Trevor' stuff. You want to come to a game day after tomorrow? As my guest? I'm sitting out a day and Anna and I have the use of a skybox. Bring somebody if you want. There will be a lunch and drinks and stuff. Come early around noon for the food. Yes? Great! They'll have your name at window 1 of the box office.” Hammer's slight Southern accent was soothing compared to my dream version of Andrew's rasp.

Immediately I called Maddie and asked if her schedule would permit a baseball game after the shoot. “My brother played baseball. I'd love to. I can get a late flight home,” she said. “Have you heard about Tanyeli and Z? I think they're almost engaged.” I asked her how she knew and she said to Google their names.

The photos were at a website for Forum Limited. They were amazing and heartbreaking and unreal. Amazing for their beauty, heartbreaking because the couple looked lost in love with each other, and unbelievable because I barely recognized Z. He was slimmer and sleeker with longer, greasy hair, dark, almost black eyes, and a fucking tramp stamp on his ass. The tattoo was a vine that wrapped around his waist with one branch circling a nipple. There also was a hardness to his expression that made him look more like a statue than a person. The nude shots of the couple convinced me that Maddie was right. I had to get out of the house.

Walking to the shore, my cell phone rang. I figured it was Andrew again. He was the only one who knew the number. It was Z, but the connection was intermittent and noisy. All I heard was his promise to try again. I found myself at Luke's door. Mark let me in.

“Did you bring the money?” he wanted to know. He was morphing into a banker almost before my eyes. “I can take a minimum of a hundred thousand or all of it if you want. We're going to capitalize at ten million, but I'll get you an early subscriber bonus.” HE continued his sales pitch for investing in the bank and then stopped. “What's the matter, Eric?”

“You know I like Z, right?”

“Duh.”

“Look at this.” I punched up the Forum website on Luke's laptop and showed it to Mark.

“Wow. Z has changed. That sure doesn't look like him.”

“Does it look like somebody who is going to come home anytime soon?”

Mark didn't answer; he just gave me a sympathetic look. “Luke should be home in a few minutes. Do you want a beer or something?”

“Do you still have any of that 'or something' hidden around the house?”

“No; but, Eric? I can get you anything you want.”

“No you can't, Mark.” I sat while he walked around my chair and began massaging my neck and shoulders; he was good at the massage.

The phone in my pocket buzzed. I ignored it.

 

[DonQuixote]

Rory,
Damn. It looks like Eric is feeling dumped, once again.
Looks can be deceiving, though.

Image, as they say, is everything.
A tat that wraps his whole body?
Permanent, or a long term temp for the shoot?
I can't picture a company wanting a model to have a permanent tat like that but, who knows.

I know, I think too much. I guess too much.
You keep me that way with your story.
While gut wrenching at times, that's a good thing in an author's talents!

 

[EasyRory]

Part Twenty-six

Luke was, of course, putting up with none of my pity party. “For fuck sake, Eric, you only know one damn thing for sure. Z is trying to call you. Answer your damn phone.” So I waited the rest of the day for it to ring again; but of course it didn't.

The dawn shoot with Maddie went like clockwork. It was in the Presidio and the visuals were great, combining an almost raw forest scene with an urban backdrop. We were dressed conventionally for a mail order clothing catalog. It was the same pose in a lot of different clothes, over and over. Then when the mandatory stuff was done, the photography got playful with some very strenuous action shots of us running, me carrying Maddie, a little kissing. It was fun and I was getting paid for it. They said we could take any of the clothes we wanted, so I put some stuff into the Ford and Maddie changed into a pretty blue and white dress that looked perfect for the ball game if you happened to be a super model. She color-coordinated me into dark trousers, a dark blazer, and a blue t-shirt, complimenting her own clothes. I have to say, we made a pretty hot couple. Even the skybox attendant was impressed.

Anna and Hammer welcomed us and introduced us to a few other people. Maddie, as usual, was a huge hit. Two were players wives who knew her face and one was … well I didn't know what he was and no one said exactly. He was handsomely Hispanic in looks with just the trace of an accent. Finally I asked Maddie how she thought Hector fit in. “Some player's boy friend, I guess. He looks sort of professional.”

Hammer had to leave us. Despite having the day off, he had to ride the pine as he called it. Not as splintery as it sounds, he had to sit on the bench in uniform, just in case the manager needed him.

So the three of us sat together and were joined by Hector, who, in addition to looking dark and expensive, knew quite a lot about the game and even more about the players. Hector was a fund of batting averages, era's, sexual preferences, and cock sizes. His baseball data was numerical to the third decimal place, but the amorous references were funny and just wild speculation, I assumed.

“Esteve Cabrera, right fielder, batting .287. The name means lady goatherd and his girlfriend says his sporting equipment matches the name.” It got old; but it filled lulls in the chatter.

“Eric, quick. Look at me and tell me a joke,” Maddie said. She looked into my eyes, smiled, laughed, and then kissed me. “Now watch the jumbotron.” A moment later the giant screen showed Maddie and me in rapt conversation, her smile, her laugh, her kiss, and my delight. “That'll get us another job, Eric.” She winked. “You are soooo good for me.”

“You're the genius,” I told her. “I'm not tuned into any of this stuff.”

“But you effortlessly manage to look great while remaining clueless. The rest of us have to work at that, Eric,” Anna said.

“Sounds like Eric's batting a thousand with the ladies,” added Hector.

“Ok, the cameras are on us. We'll have to look good for the rest of the game. Now it's work,” Anna said.

“No, they know me. They won't want to show too much of a rent boy.”

“We're just a foursome looking like a great ad for baseball. Viewers won't know any more than that.” Maddie looked at all of us and said, “Permanent smile time.”

That was my lesson in working at looking good. It was harder than it sounds. “The only break is a bathroom break,” Anna said. So I headed for the men's room.

I was standing at the urinal when Hector came up and took a good look. “Nice dick, Eric,” he winked.

“Thanks. It's what got me started in this.”

“You're a hustler, too?” Hector sounded amazed.

“Not exactly.” I told him about 'the shorts' and how a lucky couple of pictures turned into string of small modeling jobs.

“No shit. Wait. Wait. You're the food fight guy! On national TV! Man, your dick is famous!! If I had your exposure, I wouldn't need some washed up third baseman who is about to dump me.”

He was a calculating sort, but I kind of liked him. At least he was honest.

We went back to the box and it was the girls turn for a time out. By the time they returned it was the top of the ninth with the Giants leading. Three quick outs and the game was over. Maddie's people met her at the gate and she was whisked away. I waited with Anna for Hammer to come out of the locker room. In the distance I could see Hector getting his ass chewed by the third baseman.

Hammer came out and picked up Anna, apologizing for missing most of our day. Anna said Maddie and I got her lots of air time and maybe a few broadcast mentions. Hammer told me I was good mojo; I think he really meant it.

I was heading out to the parking lot when I saw the third baseman slug Hector in the face and leave. I ran up to him, “Hector! Are you alright?”

The air crackled with a string of Spanish expletives while Hector checked his teeth and decided they were all there. I convinced Hector to come with me for medical help. “Fuck it, Eric. I'll be ok; I don't have the best medical plan.”

“Screw the money. I've got connections.”

We went to Luke's where Hector got a thorough checkup. “Drop your drawers,” Luke said.

“What? He hit me in the face,” Hector protested.

“I want to make sure Eric doesn't catch anything from you when he takes you home tonight.”

“Oh, in that case ...” Hector dropped trou on the spot and pulled his shirt up.

Mark still wasn't completely comfortable with gay guys, so he practically ran out of the room. I just looked the other way. “Luke, he can stay at my house but nobody said anything about ...”

“Nothing obvious is wrong, as far as I can tell. Eric, be careful when you kiss him. The skin is bruised and it's gonna hurt around his cheekbone. Now get out of here. Would you try these condoms and let me know what you think? They're supposed to be super-sensitive. Take the night off, Eric. That's an order.” Luke walked us to the door and patted our butts on the way out.

It was only about five o'clock when we pulled up to my house. “Not too impressive, huh?”

“It's exactly like my old neighborhood,” Hector said.

Inside I said, “Hector, don't feel like you owe me anything. You can stay here for a few days or longer if you want.”

I showed him Z's bed and he kissed me. “Guys say I'm pretty good at this. A professional, in fact. Let me show you how good I can be.”

He kissed me again and never let go until I had finished fucking him the first time. I have no idea what he said to me, but Spanish never sounded so good. Instinctively he knew what I wanted and how to love me. Then he welcomed my need to please him and made me work at it. I got my reward, though. He made me believe I was the best man he had ever known; and if his words didn't convince me, his orgasm did. It wasn't grunts and groans that convinced me; it was sheer heat. He was hot under the touch of my hands and responded completely to my urgings. There was a lot of cum and no way to fake that. The second fuck was harder and rougher; he was demanding but never overwhelming. He came when I did as I squeezed and jerked his cock. We broke for dinner at a Mexican place where he got them to make food like I had never seen before. We walked back to the house and although I had hoped for more sex, it had been a long day and I fell asleep under Hector's touch.

I woke about one in the morning listening to Hector talking urgently in Spanish. It sounded as if relations with the third baseman were improving. I offer to give him a ride, but he insisted on taking a cab back to the city.

Before I got back to sleep my phone rang. It was Z. “Eric, I hoped you be there. Did I get the time right? It's right after the end of your shift?”

“Time's fine Z. Maddie told me where to find your pictures. You're looking great.”

“Eric, I'm sorry to just take off, but the company doesn't have a lot in the way of actual money, so I'm working for room, board, and part ownership. It's fun, but I don't know when I'll get back exactly. It shouldn't be too long, though. We're working on the second season. How are you doing?”

“Google Alameda food fight. I'm staying alive. I tried to get word to you through Andrew that I got another house starting at the end of next week. You'll like it, if I ever see you again.”

“Nothing has changed. You'll see me again. I just don't know exactly when.” The connection was broken.

In the morning I decided to take two hundred thousand to Mark and keep fifty for the house. Luke was out which was a good thing; he thought the money was a mistake of some kind. I felt like a burden was lifted off me when I turned the cash over to Mark.

“The stock should be registered and listed over the counter in about six months. This will give you two and a half percent ownership, assuming we sell ten million shares. Maybe we should put you on the board of directors.”

“I don't know about the board; but I could do ads, if you think skimpy shorts and flying food would help business.”

“Would you really? Do ads, I mean?”

“Sure I will. What's wrong?”

“I'm still getting used to how much you and Luke are willing to help people like me.”

“All we have are each other, Mark.”

It looked like Mark choking up; but he got himself together and said, “I hope Hector was great last night.”

“Jeez, Hector was fabulous. It wasn't love, but it was the next best thing.” I changed the subject. “Mark, now that you're no longer a marked man, are you going to want to come back to the house?”

“Luke likes the way things are.”

“But what about you?”

“I like what Luke likes.”

 

[ThreeCrows]

I am so caught up in this story - I hope you keep going!

 

[EasyRory]

Part Twenty-seven


I wasn't sure how Mark would handle the cash I'd given him, but he was the expert and I wasn't going to think about it. I walked past the house once more in the daylight and began looking at it proprietarily. The windows needed a little paint, but I could do that and the color white should be easy enough to find. Some of the old Victorians had four and five colors of paint; fortunately Mrs. Peralta's taste had been simple. The house was a greyish-green with white windows and trim. The exterior looked intact and well maintained. As I counted the windows that needed painting, my mysterious lawyer came out the front door.

“Mr. Malone, how are you? Was that you at the Giants game yesterday?”

“Great day, Mr. Levenson. Yes, I was a guest at the game.”

“Gorgeous girl you were with. I'd show my age if I called her a real 'dish'.”

“We have worked together a few times. She's just as nice as she looks.”

“I went through the house to verify the inventory of contents. Here are two copies for you and a set of keys. If you agree with the inventory, mail me one signed copy. The court has agreed to the settlement so it's all yours.”

“I was just planning to touch up the paint on the window frames. I won't change the color.”

“That's up to you. Our agreement specifies condition, not color. I'm available if you need me.”

I couldn't resist going in. The house was fully furnished but showed its signs of having been unoccupied since Mrs. Peralta's death. It wasn't actually much bigger than the house I shared, but the quality of everything was much better. The doorknobs didn't threaten to come off in your hand; even the doors themselves were much heavier. Closing a door here had a note of finality.

I picked the back bedroom for myself and wondered if I was going to be alone here. It seemed too big for just me. My world was expanding; it wouldn't fit into two backpacks anymore.

I drove home still getting used to the utility of my new old Ford and parked in front of the house. Laurie was about to leave for work.

“Hi Eric. It seems like I'm only here to change clothes lately and I think the new living arrangements will be permanent.” She showed me an engagement ring. A quick congrats and hug were all she had time for. “Oh, wait. Cal sent you six tickets to a Sabercats game. I think you could have had a hundred. The team sucks and the seats are empty.” She handed me the tickets from her purse and left.

The house was still and empty. Thoughts of Tony, Mark, Z, Laurie, and some of the friendlier cops played in my head. I packed up some of my stuff and put it in the car.

School seemed draggy. Reston said he had seen my probability calculation on a you tube clip of Bay Area Banter.

“Do you think pure math might be your field? You have insights that other people never get.” His question seemed purely professorial. “If so, Cal might be a better choice than UCSF.”

“Realistically, I could never get into Cal.”

“Not as a regular student, maybe, but my company sponsors a couple of internships there. The interns are special students; they are usually post-grads, but not always.” He said he'd talk to my calc professor to see what she thought.

I drove into the employee lot at the hospital and Spike saw me. “Man, you could have had a cool car. I'll never get you, Eric.”

“Speaking of cool things, when's the baby due, Spike?”

“I worry about that.”

“Why? Having them's easy. Raising them's hard.”

“Exactly. Man, you nailed it. Me a father.” He rolled his eyes.


I got to the locker room and Luke greeted me. “You look normal again. I hope Hector is hanging around for a while.”

“Nope, he left for a middle-of-the-night reconciliation with Slugger. But the first half of the night was great. I had no idea professionals were so … er, professional.”

“Hector is a major league player.”

We were walking to the ER when a waiting room television caught my eye. “Local boy makes good, eh, Martha?” said the distinguished gray-haired news clone. They showed a series of pictures of Z. “Indeed, Joe. Young Zachary, who hails from Orinda, is marrying super-model Tanyeli. The only thing this mega-couple lacks is a last name. They are currently being featured in a campaign for Forum Limited, a pricey new brand of club wear being introduced this weekend. Back to you, Joe.” The redheaded news clone winked and her flashing smile faded to a Clorox ad.

“Eric, I'm so sorry; I guess you were right.”

“Did you ever read 'As I Lay Dying', Luke? It took me forever to get through that book and suddenly it makes sense.”

“Isn't that a little dramatic, Eric?”

“Oh, don't worry, I'm not dying. A household - a kind of family is. Z and myself, we're part of it, but it includes the memory of Tony, the excitement that living with Mark used to be, and sweet, generous Laurie, who loved us all. It's a difficult and diminishing process.”

Luke shoved me into a janitor's closet and hugged me. “You are so different from the young man I found two years ago.” Rather formally he kissed me on both cheeks. “I wish I could have a son like you.”

At this point we were sent to the Tiki for the misdiagnosis of appendicitis and my story is almost up to date. We shouldn't have laughed that night, as Devon bounced down the stairs; and we shouldn't have laughed at airborne Steve; but the bizarre world of the Tiki conformed to such a twisted form of logic that laughter wasn't the best medicine, it was the only medicine.

That was also the night I met Rory. In the midst of mayhem, Rory seemed like the orphan in the storm I had been once, resigned to being without a life jacket on the sinking lifeboat of some lost liner. Plus he looked like Z. I had to take him home with me.

That turned out to be a mistake, a pleasant one, but a mistake nonetheless. Things started out with the simple act of getting him out of the Tiki that night before the body count rose any higher. The two injured roommates and the murderous computer-flinging couple convinced me to offer him a bed at my new house.

I put him in the front room and showed him where the hall bathroom was. From some angles his resemblance to Z was amazing. So, despite that displaced yearning, I went to bed, listening to the sounds of a new house and a new neighborhood. There seemed to be more traffic on San Antonio, but it was calmer, slower, and quieter. The cars had better mufflers in this part of town.

“Eric?” It was Rory at my open door.

“I'm awake. What do you need?”

“I can't find a towel.”

“Do you believe I just moved in here today? I don't know if there are any towels.”

I got up and joined Rory in the search. There were towels in my bathroom, but Mrs. Peralta had lived alone. Maybe she never kept any in the other bathroom. I could feel the presence of Rory next to me, a breath now and then, the heat of his body. Ah-ha, there was a hall linen closet. Bingo. I handed Rory a towel and washcloth and our hands touched.

He leaned forward and kissed me. “I'm here if you want me.” He let his hand linger on my cheek.

I pulled him against me and felt his erection press into me. “I want you, but not tonight, ok?”

“WOOAH!” He turned to go to his room and slipped on a throw rug. His feet went out from under him and he fell backwards.

“Ooof,” I gasped and, damn, that hurt. His elbow punched into my gut, but I caught him. “Come on, use my bathroom.” I lay on the bed waiting for him to finish. When he came out, I held out my hand. He dropped his boxers and joined me in my bed. I turned out the bedside light and pulled him into my arms. “Rory, have you ever had a quiet night of sex, where the only excitement was orgasmic?”

“I haven't really had that much sex.”

“That means no, huh?”

“I don't think of it that way. I figure if it's meant to happen it will.”

“How many people have you tried it with? And how many were meant to happen.”

“If we count Uncle Alan, I've gotten together with eight people. Twice we both came.”

“Why wouldn't we count Uncle Alan?”

“He died.”

What??”

“He was already sick and he wasn't even my uncle. I just called him that.”

“Do I want to know the details?”

“He put whipped cream on me, tried to suck it me off, choked and became apoplectic, they said. Died of a brain hemorrhage the next day.”

“Did they know about the whipped cream?”

“Yes, but they didn't know I was the shortcake.”

“How old were you when this happened?”

“Um ...”

“I just wondered if the murders began when you were a child or if it is something more recent.” I kissed his nipple and then giggled.

“I'm glad you're laughing. It's not like I plan these things.” He rested his head on my shoulder and we slept.

I slept very soundly, in fact, until about eight in the morning. I'm going to assume Rory did, too; he was still sleeping when I got up. It occurred to me that there wasn't any food in the house, so I went a couple of blocks to Boogie Woogie Bagel Boy and took home a basic breakfast.

Rory was just getting out of my shower. I spread the purchases out on a table in my room. “Breakfast in bed?” I called to him.

Essentially Rory ate the bagels and I ate him. And then fucked him. Except for the choking fit, nothing bad happened, and even then he never lost consciousness. The lesson is to quit eating while you're getting fucked. Another lesson is to get fucked by someone trained in the Heimlich maneuver. I tried to explain this to him but couldn't stop laughing.

Rory unquestionably had a hot body which he was willing to share. He was amiable, clean, handsome in a very regular way, employed, and legal. I tried to think of a downside. Ah, yes, he was boring.

We went back to the Tiki to check on his apartment and my car. On the way in we noticed that a computer console was sticking out of somebody else's car windshield. My car had escaped damage. A stray cat had moved into Rory's apartment, but otherwise the apartment appeared to have been untouched.

Rory said he needed to change for work and when he got undressed I noticed again what a fine body he had. We decided to delay his departure. He loved being held and kissed; and his nipples were almost as sensitive as Shoe's had been. Wondering whether Shoe's wife had figured this out was completely distracting and I felt my erection lose firmness. I forced my attention back to Rory. As I was thinking to myself that I could change the elevation of his legs by dialing in different settings on his nipples, I decided that Rory was never going to be more than an occasional diversion.

He dressed and thanked me for the night. I told him he could stay at my house longer while he decided whether to leave the Tiki, but he declined. “This place can't be as bad as you say.”

“Oh, yes, it can. Next Wednesday is my night off. Let's have dinner and I will tell you about the Tiki.”

He brightened and move into my arms. Rory wanted somebody to love and encouraging the idea of me would be unfair.

 

[DonQuixote]

Rory,
Talking to Rory about "Rory", who has just joined the story as a "boring" but amicable guy. This feels more than a bit awkward, lol.

I have a sense of finality in this chapter that I'm not sure I like.
Too many of the "family" ties are dissolving as people go their different ways, leaving our poor Eric essentially alone.

There's a lot of good going on in his life, but we still yearn for him to be happy.

Boring isn't bad. But, I get it. You want/feel the need for the RUSH of excitement early in the relationship. After the settling in and getting to know everything there is to know about each other, and adjusting your puzzle pieces to match theirs, THEN it's OK for the "glow" to arrive from the Bonfire, but you really want the bonfire to start things off.

I hope there's more to the story. I'm not bored with Eric's life. I don't know if all of the characters except the hospital crew are gone for good. And I don't know if his finishing his Associates up and maybe getting an Internship to Cal will change his venue or not.

Thanks for sharing all of your time and talents with us.

 

[EasyRory]

Rory,


I hope there's more to the story. I'm not bored with Eric's life.

Really? You want it to go on like a soap opera?

I wondered what people thought of the nightmare device. I was flipping a coin over whether to post it.

I guess I could try the five-word chapter. Faulkner did it in As I Lay Dying.

 

[DonQuixote]

You have a nice, clean, comfortable writing style, with a fair amount of diversity. It's not just hop in the sack, or even mainly. There may be a lot of thinking about it, but that's your typical male, regardless of orientation, lol.

Let me know if you decide to write another.

 

[EasyRory]

Part Twenty-eight

By the time Wednesday rolled around I had settled into the Peralta house. Most of the little old lady stuff I boxed up and stored in the basement. I had invited Laurie and Andrew to join my dinner with Rory also, Laurie to say goodbye, and Andrew out of curiosity.

Andrew was inordinately pleased by the invitation and made no snide comments about having to travel to unfashionable Eastbay. He was the first to arrive and ordered a Margarita. I asked him how things were going.

“Professionally or personally? Well, professionally, you're quite a hit with the company. You are getting regular work and causing minor sensation without much expense on the company's part and we have bumped your price up a bit, so that makes me look good, thank you very much. I know it's mostly your doing, but the company credits me. Plus you are the most undemanding client I've ever dealt with; you make my job easy.”

“Remind me to abuse you more often. What about personally?”

“Nice of you to ask. You don't want to hear that.”

“Sure I do. Give me the easy stuff. Where is home? Where did you go to school?”

“Northridge, in the San Fernando Valley, that's the Eastbay of Los Angeles without the funk. I went to Cal State Northridge for two years and then UCLA for media studies. I got deflowered by one of my professors. Then I got sappy over him and, to get rid of me, he put me up for the job with Stein and Stein four hundred miles away. I've been working like a dog ever since. Beyond that, I survive in the reflected glory of my clients.”

“Lots of clients?”

“Exactly twenty-two, half of whom are unemployable but won't admit it.”

“What do you mean by unemployable?”

“Well, they're not like a one-legged tap dancer; most of the problems relate to age. It's people who used to get hired but are now too old. Depending on your looks and, worse, on your youth is a tough business.”

“Unrealistic expectations. It happens everywhere.”

“It's one thing or another. Sometimes they just leave. Like Z. He isn't mine anymore. Some European agency bought out his contract.” I tried to hide my shock; that piece of news hurt.

At that point Laurie arrived and introductions were made. “I'm so glad to meet you. I always wanted to know who Z and Eric were yelling at. I don't see any horns or tail.”

Andrew rose and helped seat Laurie. “Ah, the burden of being the bad guy. The tail is tucked in and the horns are detachable.” He was being quite charming.

Laurie mentioned that her boy friend was a yacht broker and Andrew was interested, since the agency often rented boats for shoots and entertaining. Laurie seemed pleased at being able to find a possible customer for her friend.

Then Rory appeared at the entrance to the restaurant looking around for us. Andrew's practiced eye had been subtly scanning the room and came to rest on Rory. “Wow,” he said, “That guy may not be Stein and Stein material; but he sure is Andrew material.” He watched as Rory approached the table.

Rory explained that he worked for a company that mainly did custom programming but had a few products of their own that dealt with inventories and archiving. Andrew hung on his every word.

After we ordered, I started telling my Tiki stories, to great effect. Laurie had heard enough of them that she could verify that they were true; Rory was horrified, but in a detached way; and Andrew loved them. He concluded, “I want to live there. My building is mostly people who wish they were in New York.”

“I actually do live there. That's how I met Eric,” Rory said.

I didn't tell the tale of how we met, although I don't think Rory would have minded. He raised the subject after all. Discussing the details of his involvement with Devon and Steve wouldn't have bothered him more than briefly. Maybe it was his computer background that made him see a binary world. Things were on or off, positive or negative for him; the possibility of shame wasn't significant.

When the meal was over, Andrew left with Rory for a tour of the Tiki and I drove Laurie to her boyfriend's place, which was in Harbor Bay.

“It's very different here,” she said. “All the comforts, but a little starchy. I thought I would mind, but I don't. Everybody is superficially conventional, but they all have something lurking in their past that would open your eyes. And, Eric, your food fight at the Club is still being talked about. ”

I followed Laurie's directions to her house and she invited me in to meet her friend. He was a bit older than I expected and didn't seem like a yacht broker; but he was friendly enough. I wondered what was in his past; I would bet you it wasn't the Trans-Pacific Sailing Race.

The next morning Andrew called and asked if he could stop at my house. He arrived so quickly I assumed, correctly, that he had spent the night at the Tiki.

“Eric, I'm in love,” he gushed. “Rory is incredible. And cute, isn't he? It's not just the sex, either. Well, yes, it is the sex, especially the fucking part. But he's a whole person. Can I take a shower by the way? He sees things with such beautiful simplicity. No drama. That's the trouble with my life. Everything is grand opera. Not Rory. Where is the shower anyway? Oh, thanks. You know he can come twice? Be out in a sec.”

He came out wearing the towel and still talking. “Such a sweet personality and he makes more than you'd think. Lives alone and ...”

“Andrew, this is going to sound weird, but could I see the dark spot on your penis?”

“What? Are you crazy?” He saw that I was serious, pulled the towel from around his waist, and held his penis up. He looked up at the ceiling while I inspected. “It's on the bottom - that oval shape. Why do you care?”

“Birthmarks fascinate me.” I was relieved to see that Andrew's reality in no way resembled the dick-of-death in my dream.

“It gets bigger.” There was an offer in his tone.

“I think they all do. Stop in the kitchen for some coffee.”

By the time he was dressed I had made some coffee, which Andrew hurried to drink. The drama was already creeping back into his life. “I wonder how long it takes to get to the city from here.”

“Well, you're about to find out. Getting to Stein and Stein should take about a half hour if there's no tie-up on the bridge. There is a ferry boat, but it is slower and leaves from another part of town.”

Offhandedly Andrew asked, “You live alone now Eric? No more roommates?”

“Well, Z's stuff is here if he ever comes back for it. Mark is welcome if he wants to live here, but I don't think he does. Tony's dead. And Laurie is getting married. So no roommates.”

“Z was a big thing?”

I nodded.

“I wasn't sure. Sorry. Well, your career and twenty-one others are calling. Thanks for the pit stop and the dinner.” It dawned on Andrew. He paused and looked at me calculatingly. “You fixed me up with Rory, didn't you?”

“I just put you at the same table. Never suggested anything to either of you.”

“Well, that was a spectacular success. I owe you.”

I spent the next couple of hours painting window frames, which was more time-consuming than I had expected. An old woman came out of the house next door and said hello.

“Are you the new owner?”

“No, I'm a tenant. The ownership of the house is undetermined. I'm Eric Malone.”

“I'm Carolyn Albers. It's nice to see young people in the neighborhood, Mr. Malone. I'll give you a hint about these old houses. They cost a fortune to heat it in the winter. These houses were built with fireplaces for heat and Ann Peralta used to say the furnace was an expensive nightmare.” She picked up a newspaper and went back inside.

Well, I thought, if it's just me living here I could close off some of the rooms for the couple of cold months we get and try to ignore all the cold mornings we get.

The time had passed quickly. Thinking I was getting lazy, I drove to school and was back home in two hours. It's amazing how quickly the car had become an essential part of my schedule. I grabbed the mail and went inside. There were a bunch of ads and a small plain box addressed to Occupant. The return address was smudged and unreadable. It contained a anonymous CD without any label or identification. I put it in my computer and a song began to play; it was something old and upbeat.

“Knock three times on the ceiling if you want me. Twice on the pipes if the answer is no-oh-oh-oh.”

Luke looked up as I entered the locker room singing to myself. “Listening to the oldies station again?”

“I can't get it out of my head - one of those bubblegum songs.”

My cell phone buzzed. “Eric, sorry to call you at work but this is spectacular. Disney wants to talk to you. Can you sing by the way? No? Doesn't matter. They can fix that. They are looking for a new, slightly older, slightly sexier personality and they liked your dick, I mean your underwear – from that food fight video clip. When can you go to LA?”

“I have exams on Tuesday and Wednesday. So next Thursday, I guess.”

“Your answer was supposed to be 'tomorrow, Andrew.' Thursday. Fuck. I'll see if they will wait that long.”

I muttered 'damn' to the telephone as I closed it. Luke looked up. “My agent. He wants me to drop everything and fly to LA tomorrow,” I told him. “But if I miss exams that's four months down the drain.”

“Exams can be rescheduled.”

“I don't want to do that. I'm ready for them and I don't want Disney being a distraction.”

“Disney?” Luke's mouth fell open.

“Sounds stupid, doesn't it? I can't sing, can't dance, can't act; plus I'm ten years too old for Disney.”

“They're not idiots. If they have seen you, they know preteen girls aren't your audience.”

After a routine choking, our second call was to a fire at the Tiki. There were no reports of injury but it was a major fire. First we could smell the smoke then we could see it drifting inland. Arson was Luke's assumption. “I bet the owners can't wait to replace it with something new and flashy and triple the rents. For all its weirdness, the place was priced right.”

We pulled into the lot a little after ten and the scene leader said to stand-by. There were no known injuries, but with all the smoke there still might be. Despite all our calls at the Tiki, Rory was the only resident I recognized.

“Are you surviving ok?” I asked him.

Oh, Eric, hi. I guess. My place is full of smoke, but the fire never got that far. It's mostly in the apartments closest to the Bay.”

“You need a place for the night?”

“Maybe. I called Andrew; we were going to go out. He's on his way.”

“I'm working until eleven thirty. If he isn't here by then, you can wait at my house.”

“Thanks.” He stood looking forlorn as Luke and I went to offer oxygen to some older residents.

The event produced a lot of smoke but not much fire. One fireman told me it started in a storeroom full of old furniture. He wasn't sure of the cause but he said if it's arson, there were much better ways to do it. He said his name was Larry and he was at the Bay Farm station. He asked me if I was the guy who caused the riot at the Harbor Bay Club. When I told him yes, he seemed a little awestruck; but his smile was cute even with the soot on his cheeks.

 

[DonQuixote]

Rory,
I finally got a chance to read your new chapter. Life, does indeed, go on.
Lots of developments going on.
And, Andrew is starting to become a little more three dimensional.

It was nice/perceptive of Eric to put he and (you! lol) together.

Disney - Maybe their Touchstone Division? It does PG-13, and maybe even R rated pics.

Eric is right to keep to his guns, though. He has a life. He pretty much likes it - if he finds the right one and he's an actual keeper who stays put.

Thanks for the new post.

 

[EasyRory]

Part Twenty-nine

Andrew arrived at the fire and offered to take Rory to his house but Rory needed to work in the morning. So they both agreed to stay with me. Rory was hungry and we debated among some pretty bad local choices. Larry the fireman overheard this and suggested Nick's. Rory knew of Nick's, which was open all night and popular with programmers but to make sure he asked Larry if he meant the one off Halcyon in San Leandro.

“Yeah, that's the one. Nick's or Dick's, that's the choice,” Larry said. Dick's was another all-nighter in San Leandro, not known for the quality of its food.

Andrew was about to make a joke about choosing “Dick's”; but I frowned him into silence. Larry left to help pack up his truck's hoses.

Andrew then spoke. “Eric, where do you find these people? Larry is seriously hot. There's nobody like him in the whole Castro.”

“Lots of guys are seriously hot. You two go eat and I'll meet you in about forty-five minutes.”

When they had left, Larry returned and asked me if I'd ever been to Nick's before and volunteered to take me, saying it was a little hard to find.

Nick's was a comfortable place, a step or two up from greasy spoon land. Larry said hello to some firemen he knew; and Rory greeted some programmers. The waitresses knew a lot of their customers and the service was prompt. It was a good place to know about.

After omelets, we all walked out to the parking lot. As Rory and Andrew got into Andrew's car, I asked Larry if he wanted to come, too. He didn't answer right away and held out his hand. I shook it. “Eric, I would really like to do that.” He wouldn't let go of my hand. “But I can't.” I said that was ok and suggested another time. He said, “Sure,” and walked away; I hoped he meant it.

Inviting Rory and Andrew to spend the night wasn't so good for my sleeping. Even with them in the front bedroom and me in the back, the sound traveled. I had to listen to them fuck, apparently in a variety of ways, for about an hour; I thought it might be a chance to study my school notes, but the live sex show was too distracting. My growing certainty that they were sexually very compatible was abruptly disrupted by a crash and accompanying cries.

I found them wedged between the wall and the bed still in the missionary position. Rory's ass and Andrew's feet were the most identifiable parts showing. Fortunately, there didn't seem to be a repeat of Devon's injury, but the mostly hidden Andrew was gasping, “OH! Oh my God. Oh.”

As I tried to untangle things I noted that Rory's arms were pinned by the bed rail and the wall securely under Andrew and Rory's weight further immobilized them both. I couldn't move the heavy oak bed even an inch and no immediate solution came to mind. I took a practiced approach to these things and laughed my ass off.

Andrew continued, “Oh, man. Woo, baby! I've never cum like that before. Ha-ha! Woo. Yes. Mmmm.” And then, “Ok, this is getting a little uncomfortable.”

I tried pulling on Rory's legs but that just brought complains from Rory, “Eric, I'm still hard and it doesn't want to bend that way.” Then I tried gripping him around the waist and the ticklish Rory dissolved in giggles. I'm not sure I had ever heard him laugh before.

“OK! Enough!” Now Andrew was getting impatient.

“Here. If I put my foot between all these legs, I think I can get enough leverage to ...”

“JESUS!”

“Sorry. I thought you were Jewish, Andrew.”

“Jewish? Really?” asked Rory. “My mother always wanted to be Jewish.”

“Will you two stop! Get me out of here.”

I pulled Rory's legs out from between Andrew's and that action took enough pressure off other parts that they could separate. Rory stood up with his erection still bobbing in front of him. Andrew raised himself to a sitting position and said, “Look at him, still hard. Could you go again?”

“If you want to,” said Rory.

After a shower for Andrew and Rory, quiet descended on the household and I slept. I don't know what the other two did.

For the next few days I worked, slept, studied, and painted windows; the exams ended and I felt good about how I had done. Andrew called and asked me if I wanted him to go with me to Disney. I decided to brave it alone.

The next day I was sitting in a waiting room in Burbank with a bunch of young kids; there were tap dancers, overly made-up baton twirlers, musicians, and myself. Another young guy close to my age came in and sat near me.

“Hi,” he said, “You hear for an audition, too?”

“I'm not sure what I'm here for; but I'm feeling really old.”

“I'm reading for the grandfather part,” he said and we did our best to laugh at his joke.

After several of the kids had been ushered in and out, my name was called and I went into a different room. It was a big room with two people sitting at a table near one end. “Hi, Mr. Malone, I'm Katey Charles and this is Erik-with-a-K Engel. Thanks for coming to see us. We're looking for somebody who could play a twenty-something role model for one of our teen actors. This role would combine cool with responsible, the Paul Rudd part in Clueless, if you have seen that movie.”

“I'm not sure why you called me. I have no experience acting and not a whole lot more modeling.”

“The role wouldn't call for much of either. You are a student and also a part-time EMT?”

I'm a full-time EMT and a part-time student. I'm also an occasional waiter.”

“Waiter, yes, we saw that part. Ok, could you stand, walk to the end of the room, and run back.”

“Good. Now read this please. Don't try to act. We just want to get your voice patterns.”

The gave me a newspaper account of a traffic accident. When I finished reading I couldn't help embellishing, “I think I actually worked on extracting the victim in this case. Is the article about Tony Peralta's death?”

“I don't know. It was chosen to show off your pronunciation and accent. One last thing. Could you please remove your shirt?”

I did and they watched. “Now your pants? And puh-lease be wearing underwear.” they watched some more. “Great, thanks.”

“That's it? I get paid for this?” I asked as I dressed.

“Yes and yes. Just your expenses, though. Will you be available in the morning?”

“I hadn't planned on it, but I could be. I need to be back home by my shift late tomorrow afternoon.”

“Please come at eight. You'll be done by ten, plenty of time for a plane.”

Back in the waiting room I called Maddie, hoping she might be free tonight. “Hi, Maddie. It's Eric. I got no warning and I'm in town overnight. Are you free tonight by any chance? Oh. Sorry. I'll try to give you more warning next time. Jeez, you saw the food fight clip, too? I'll never live that down. OK, bye.”

“That's who you are!” the other guy said. “The food fight guy in his underwear. I thought you looked familiar.”

“How can I be so famous for a clip that's only ten seconds long?

“You mean you haven't seen the extended version? If you can wait a couple minutes, I've got a laptop in my car; I'll show you.”

The receptionist gave my new friend an envelope and we left for the parking lot. “Here, this car. I'm Colin Turner, but the way.”

We sat in his car with smoked windows keeping out the sun and he fired up the computer. He logged into some website and found the clip. “Here. Watch.”

It was the food fight run at various speeds showing women looking at me and then the screen would dissolve to one of the ad shots of 'the shorts'. The clip went back and forth showing women and then various shots of 'the shorts'. Finally it showed me moving around with my pants down and underwear exposed; then it repeated that shot in slow motion, emphasizing my bouncing bulge and a woman fainting, the clip closed showing a thighs-down view of some random guy who was supposed to be me, sliding off his underwear and a woman posed in front of the Harbor Bay Club saying, “Come back, Eric, please come back.”

I was speechless.

“Half the guys in Hollywood wish they were you,” Colin said. “It's an amazing clip; it's not actual porn and yet it kind of is and it really shows you off. The expression on your face is perfect, part surprise and part laughing. You look like a regular guy not taking himself too seriously.”

Still I said nothing.

“You want to do something tonight? Let me take you to Foxtail. You'll be the talk of the town.”

Um, my agent said never to go to bars that … I don't want to insult you; but no gay bars.”

“Foxtail is hopelessly straight. We'll get dates.”

“In that case, I probably can't afford it.”

“Dude, this is Hollywood. You're the hit. They'll pay you.”

He said he'd pick me up later and I checked into a motel named for an old b-movie actress on Vineland. It was a respectable place, not far from Disney and the Burbank airport. I could walk to both places if I timed it right. Colin said ten PM was way to early to go out, but I told him I wanted to be asleep by midnight.

He and two girls picked me up on time and we went to Foxtail. There was nothing like Foxtail in Alameda. It wasn't huge, but it was a bar, restaurant, and dance floor spread over two stories, very glitzy and not crowded at such an early hour.

Colin drove up and turned his Acura over to a valet who sneered at it. Then as we approached the door he pointed to me and said to some guys, “Eric Malone, the food fight guy.” We were instantly surrounded by paparazzi. Colin and the girls were posing and handing out cards with their names. I realized I was being used, but no harm done so far. We were ushered in and given a welcome drink on the house. More photos were taken and after a while I said it was fun, but I had an early day ahead. Colin became less friendly and tried to get me to stay. I ended up walking back to my motel, getting in about the time I had hoped.

The next morning I met Katey and she took me for more pictures in several different outfits, regular clothes and sports uniforms. They tried a couple kinds of makeup on me and said that was it. My agent would hear from them.

A studio shuttle took me to the motel and then to the airport and I was back in Oakland by early afternoon. I went home to get ready for work and got two calls. The first was from Reston; I got the internship at Cal. The second was from Andrew; I got the part at Disney.

 

[DonQuixote]

Rory,
I'm really enjoying where you're taking us - Eric is having some nice successes - we HOPE! after a rough early life.

He's had some hits and misses with the interpersonal relationships - kismet, it seems. I hope Z does well - working for part ownership and no money doesn't sound like it pays the bills.

Colin is a piece of work - it was OK to use Eric for free entry and drink, paparazzi shots, but he really was a prick when Eric said he had to call it a night. Couldn't get our boy to change his commitment.

I can understand Disney wanting him as an older Role Model - he's living the role - FT Paramedic going to school PT, trying to do the right things, working his ass off on multiple fronts to stay afloat and get ahead.

Now, the Internship AND Disney - well, Disney knows school is important, and they are local, unless the need to shoot someplace far away on location.

But, then again, they can also afford to get him tutors to continue his studies a la distance learning if necessary.

This is all about Eric's life, but you have so many other things happening around him, too.

Thanks again.
Could be a blockbuster hit, lol.

 

[EasyRory]

Part Thirty

When I told Luke the news he was happy for me but a little reserved. “Mark would like to talk; he's tried calling your house, but you're never there. He'll be up when the shift is over, if you want to call then.”

“Couldn't I just stop at your place?”

“Well, sure, if you have time.”

“Luke, I will always have time for you.” He smiled briefly and went to the ER.

We were called to a rescue. One of the abandoned houses on the north end had probably been a crack house and was falling apart while awaiting a promised restoration. Some squatters had been using it; one fell through the staircase and two others were trapped on the second floor. It must have been a slow night, two fire units responded.

I got a chance to say hello to Larry. “Hey, Larry, isn't this the wrong end of town for you Bay Farm guys?”

“Nothing's happening. We came for training on the structure. There are some of these old wrecks at our end of town, too.” It seemed as if he wanted to say something else, but ended with, “Good to see you.”

We got the fall victim wrapped up and into the ambulance. Luke commented, “The good thing about the druggies is they're usually light weight. Easy on the X-ray techs.” To the victim he asked, “What are you on? Meth? H?” He got no answer.

Luke and I walked to his place when the shift ended. He told Mark my news and then took a shower while I talked to Mark. The bank was up and running and Mark wanted to deliver my shares to me. I asked what I was supposed to do with them.

“Well, you could stuff them under your mattress, I guess. Or you could rent a safety deposit box and keep them there. They are replaceable if you lose them, but it's a pain-in-the-ass process. Rent a box.”

“I love no-bullshit bankers.” Mark smiled in acknowledsgement. “Things are going well?”

“Things are going great, Eric. The city knows the bank has a kind of shady background, but we are open and honest and do things that Oakland likes. We even have some political protection, especially in the south end of town.”

“You and Luke? That's ok?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Are you out and proud these days, Mark? That seems like a huge leap.”

“Eric, I don't know what the fuck I am. I think I'm as straight as ever basically, but Luke is so amazing. He's one of a kind. We've done everything it's possible for two men to do; and I like it. I want to do it with Luke; but I wouldn't do it with anybody else. Not even you, Mr. Movie Star.”

The next day I called Andrew for details about Disney. He said they wanted to make a TV movie that would also be a pilot for a series or alternatively a TV series that would spawn a movie. It depended on financing. If I agreed, Disney would essentially take over my public professional life.

“That hard part for me is I won't be your agent anymore; we'll sell your contract to somebody in LA. But the good part is that I'll be your neighbor. I'm buying a house about a block and a half away from you.”

“Congrats on the house. Will I have to live in LA?”

“No, but you'll be spending a lot of time there during filming. Ok, Movie Star, details to follow.”

I called the number at Cal that Reston had given me and spoke to a professor who would be my adviser. She invited me to a meet with her at two in the afternoon. I called Reston, just to thank him and he asked me for a celebratory drink. I put him off a day because I was already afraid the Cal meeting would interfere with work.

Katey's assistant Duke called from Disney and took a lot of personal information over the phone. “You're taking so much time, Duke. Couldn't I email you all this?

“You could, Mr. Malone, but I don't want to put you to any trouble.”

“Skip the Mr. Malone. It wouldn't be any trouble.”

“Ok, to tell you the truth, we don't trust the actors to do it. It's easier if I get it all done when I have the chance. Do you have your new agent yet? Do you want a recommendation?”

He gave me a name and I called Andrew to see if he knew the name. He said no, but he'd ask around and get back.

“I don't know Andrew. I'd rather trust your Uncle Charlie.”

“You know, I actually have an Uncle Charlie, but he's not an agent; he's a lawyer. One clue, Eric, everybody is going to want a piece of you and they are never going to put your interest first, not even Uncle Charlie. Hollywood is vicious. Most of those vampire movies are based on fact.”

I headed off to Berkeley and met Dr. Clare Simmons. We talked about my record and my interests. I told her I didn't think I could prove Fermat's Last Theorem and she said, “Neither could I, but that's an old puzzle; we're interested in newer matters and the new stuff comes from young brains.” I told her I had worked through the epsilon conjecture and admired the proof; and she said, “Oh, Ken Ribet works just down the hall. I'll tell him he has a new fan.”

She laid out the courses she thought would support the goals of the internship and possible directions I could take later. I was amazed she would spend so much time with me. The other professors I had known didn't always bother to learn my name.

“There is one thing.” I was almost afraid to raise the quibble. “I have an offer to be in a Disney movie that would shoot through August. Will it be possible to do that?”

“Oh ... You're THAT Eric Malone.” A smile crossed her face. “Wait 'til I tell my daughter. The course work can begin in September. Do you want readings for the meanwhile?” I agreed to that without a question; she gave me a reading list and some printouts.

I stopped in a men's room on my way out and obviously disturbed two guys in a stall. There was a scramble and then silence except for heavy breathing. I took care of my business and left. I'm not into public bathroom sex but it made me horny.

It was good I had put Reston's drink off; I barely got to work on time as it was. I found myself singing “Knock Three Times” again as I entered the locker room. I knocked three times on Luke's locker and he said “Means to meet me in the hallway,” as he left. I met him on the way to the ER and he said “You're all smiles today.” I told him about my visit to Dr. Simmons.

We were sent almost immediately to the Tiki. Another fire had broken out. It was already an abandoned buildoing; but we were there just in case. As it turned out one fireman was burned by a collapsing deck and two were overcome by smoke. After I wiped his face off, I saw that one victim was Larry. I put the mask on him and started the oxygen flow.

“You're going to be alright, Larry.” I told him as I checked for burns. His jacket seemed intact, but there were some cuts in his trousers. He groaned when I touched his left leg.

Luke and I dropped off Larry at the hospital and returned to the Tiki. An hour later everything was over without any more cases for us. Back in the ER a nurse said Larry's leg was oddly bruised in a way that couldn't have been caused by the fire. I went to see Larry; he was groggy but managed a hello. I asked him if I could look at his leg and with a goofy grin he told me I could look at anything. I lifted the blanket and saw black and blue contusions on both thighs, worse on his left side. He was catheterized, which made his cock look oddly rigid. I covered him again. He was high as a kite on drugs so I ignored his comment that he wanted to take me to Nick's again.

Luke guessed that he had been in some kind of accident prior to tonight. I was no expert, but the aged color of the bruises made me think they were there before I had met him.

I was glad to get home. The injuries we saw were easier to dismiss when the victims were unknown. Rory and Andrew were there apparently enjoying a post-orgasmic afterglow; they promised to be quiet. Andrew said his house purchase would need some work before they could move in but that he had sublet an apartment temporarily while the work went on. I asked him what was wrong with the house.

“Well, the bathroom is too small and the kitchen needs more light.”

Rory shifted position in his chair and his bathrobe fell open. He quickly closed it, but I saw again why Andrew was so happy these days. Ouch. I went to bed needing a friend. Rory and Andrew were pretty quiet and the subtle sounds of more fucking didn't keep me awake.

They were both gone when I got up. The painting was done so I looked over the house to see what else might need doing. The landscaping wasn't much, a couple of overgrown bushes and patchy remnants of a lawn that got little sun since the trees had grown up years ago. Nothing demanded attention. The side planking of the porch was showing a little deterioration, but it could wait, too. I decided. My neighbor came out and said hello and I replied with a “Hi, Mrs. Albers.”

“It's Miss Albers, Eric. Carolyn, if you want. The new paint looks good.”

“I'm scouting around to see what else might need doing. I wonder how the roof is.”

“Oh, don't worry about that. Ann had tons of work done on it last year. I swear they replaced the whole attic.”

“I didn't even know there was an attic. There's no way to get to it that I have found.”

“These houses are similar. My attic is just unfinished storage space, but I believe yours is bigger and finished. There used to be pull-down stairs in the hall near the back bedroom. Um, Eric? Are you the young man who caused the commotion at the Harbor Bay Club?”

“Carolyn, I don't know if I'm ever going to live that down.”

“From what I've heard, your only mistake was looking so cute. Those old broads should lay off the booze at lunch, if you'll pardon my French.” She winked at me and went back inside. Carolyn reminded me why I'm fond of little old ladies.

I went upstairs and looked at the hall ceiling. There was the barely noticeable framed outline of a trap door, but it had been painted over to match the rest of the ceiling. I couldn't see any way to open it. I got a chair out of my room and stood on it for a closer look. I felt around the frame and found nothing, although a knock produced a hollow sound. What the hell, I thought, and I knocked three times on the ceiling. I heard machinery start up and I had to move quickly to get out of the way of the panel as it swung down and a ladder extended.

I climbed the ladder and found a large room containing a single bed, a desk and chair, and an easy chair. There was a closet and a small bathroom to the rear of the house. On the table was a large envelope address to Eric Malone.

The note asked me to keep the contents of the envelope until my tenancy ended. If I received no directions by the time I moved out, the contents were mine. I looked at the contents, which were documents that looked like currency, but were on very large sheets of heavy paper and in Spanish.

I called Luke's to talk to Mark. Luke gave me another number to call.

“Mark, does this mean anything to you? Banco Central de Nicaragua Titulos al Portador.”

“Sweet! Where did you hear of those? They're some of the last bearer bonds in the world. Very popular among certain individuals.”

“I saw a reference to them in a paper at Berkeley. Just curious.”

“Ok, say, Eric. Were you serious about advertising for my bank?

“Absolutely. Please tell me I don't have to wear those damn shorts.”

“We'll do something else; but we do want to identify you as the food fight guy, ok? Just give us an hour this afternoon?”

Andrew said my Disney contract wasn't effective yet so I could do anything that wouldn't bring discredit on Disney or damage my reputation. It turned out Mark's people ad agency wanted to photograph me wearing a barrel – with naked arms and legs. The lesson of the ad was the safety of keeping your ASSets in a bank. The ad would be in Spanish and Mandarin, not English.

I called my contact Duke at Disney and told him about the barrel. He laughed and said, “We'll have you more exposed than that. Go ahead and do it. See you next week.”

“Next week?”

“Yeah, we want to shoot a few background scenes. Principal photography won't start for a while. Some scenes of you in sports action with … let's see, Colin Turner. He plays your best friend on a team. You guys are friends, huh? There were some pix of you guys at Foxtail in the Hollywood Reporter.”

“Yeah, I know him.”

“Eric, no more random paparazzi shots, ok? We'll set up those. Those chicks were pretty skanky.”

The ads for Mark were an easy shoot in an Oakland photography studio. The photographer was in his mid-thirties, I guess, nice looking, and put me at ease. I just wore a barrel and tried to look “helpless and adorable” as the photographer requested.

“We need you to be actually naked in the barrel. It will show on your face.” I removed my underwear and he helped adjust the barrel straps on me. He took some shots. “Would you feel more comfortable if I was naked too?” the photographer asked. “If we can work up a sensual atmosphere, it'll show in the pictures.”

“Knock yourself out,” I told him. That was before I fucked him. His need was as great as mine and we suited each other. He was eager and willing, but not abandoned.

“You're holding back,” I whispered as I watched his expression.

“So are you,” he replied. His kisses were warm but gentle; there was no urgency.

When we were pleasantly spent, he took some more shots. “The exhausted look works too, sometimes.”

 

[DonQuixote]

Rory,
“The exhausted look works too, sometimes.” lol.
I loved that line.

Eric's life is humming along.
I life his adviser - she's a REAL adviser, helping him select the appropriate courses, getting him some background.

Bearer bonds from the bank of Nicaragua? Que denominacion?
His friend is definitely trying to help him - I suspect that if no heirs are found, our boy Eric will be able to buy the house from the city.

Colin - "Yeah, I know him" PUTZ, extraordinaire.
HE's bad news, if I'm remembering rightly.

And the banging boys, lol.

Then, again, Eric and the photog seem to have helped each other out just fine, too.

Thanks, again, for all your hard work.

 

[EasyRory]

Bearer bonds from the bank of Nicaragua? Que denominacion?

Dos cientos mil dolares de los Estados Unidos de America

These are real bonds paying 8.5% if you're interested.

 

[EasyRory]

Part Thirty-One


I went to work early and looked for Larry. He had been released. The nurse said that basically there was nothing wrong, although the bruises on his legs were unexplained. “He didn't want to talk, and they weren't disabling. So we released him.”

Puzzled I went to see the shift supervisor. “I need next week off if that's possible. Actually I need it off, period.”

“You planning to start another riot?” she asked.

“No, I'm shooting some scenes for Disney. I'll be in Burbank at this number.” I gave her the motel's switchboard.

“Really? You planning to quit?”

“Why? I like it here. They want me for one week now and maybe four weeks later, if I keep the part. I'll give you all the notice I can, and I don't want to quit.”

She agreed to the week off; a movie star would be even better publicity for the hospital than a local celebrity.

I told Luke when I saw him. “Why do you look sad? Isn't it a good chance for me?”

“Sure it is. It's a terrible for the rest of us. We'll never see you again.”

“Why would I leave here? I like it here.”

“Because a Disney success will force you to change your life, probably in ways incompatible with living in Alameda. Where would you put your entourage?”

“Entourage … who would that be? Andrew and Mark?”

My cell rang and it was Andrew. He said the suggested agent in LA seemed to be a good choice and added that I should take a passport to Burbank next week. Part of the shoot would be in Mexico.

Luke and I suited up and waited for a call. “Pity about the Tiki,” Luke lamented. “So much fun is gone.”

We got a call to the Islander Motel. A prostitute had been shot. She was unconscious from loss of blood when we first saw her. We had her in the ER within twelve minutes of entering the room.

“So young,” Luke shook his head. “Well, at least she'll survive this one.”

Next was a car wreck. A car turned into the path of a large truck on Dolittle. The truck driver was fine but the driver of the car was raving.

“He's drunk,” Luke said. “If he passes out, roll him onto his stomach so he doesn't drown in his own vomit.”

“But, doc ...” a policeman complained.

“He's not a medical emergency. Lock him up.” Luke had zero tolerance for drunks.

While on break, I picked up a sports magazine and saw Z advertising something called action underwear. 'Forum … always' was the company's new slogan. The waistband of the underwear read '4um … always'. I took it back to the ER and showed Luke.

“Well! Z's looking good.”

“Time to give up and move on I guess.” I tossed the magazine onto a waiting room chair.

“Why would you say that?”

“He's successful, he's engaged, and I haven't heard a word from him.”

“What does the waistband say? Describe it in detail, please,” Luke requested.

“Numeral four, letters u and m, three dots, and always.”

“I see numeral four, the letters e, m, and m, and always,” Luke said.

“Yeah, kinda, I guess it could be that. So what?”

“What are your initials, Eric Morgan Malone? The logo says for you always.”

“You think?”

“Sometimes you are so dense, Eric.”

I got home still wondering about Luke's conjecture. I checked for Andrew and Rory. They were out. Three knocks and I was in the attic. I counted the bonds; there were fifty of them and even I could figure out 'dos cientos mil dolares de los Estados Unidos de America' on each one. Ten million US dollars in bearer bonds. I went back down to the kitchen and stood at the counter drinking some grapefruit juice. My mouth was suddenly dry.

Rory came in alone. “Hi, Eric. Just me. Andrew needed to do something. Thank you for letting me stay here. I don't know where I'd be without you. We're moving into the temporary place tomorrow.” Rory wasn't drunk but he was definitely feeling good. “I'm so grateful.”

He embraced me and gave me a kiss. It was way more than brotherly. “Andrew is terrific, but then so are you. I'm glad we had that night together. Just one more hug, ok.”

Rory held me for a nine-count and I could feel the compact strength of his body and the searching touch of his hands. He was so like Z physically. I was tempted to turn his goodbye into something more when he broke away. “You're a peach,” he said as he turned and went to his room.

The doorbell rang. It was late for callers. I opened the door and saw Andrew. “I told you I owed you; so here's a little surprise.” He stood aside and I saw Z.

He moved into my arms and he was nothing like Rory. He moved differently; he kissed differently; and he held me with a feel of possession. Andrew must have snuck away; I realized we were alone. All I could do was say his name and try to wipe the tears off my cheeks. “Why am I crying? I'm so happy to hold you.”

“I was afraid you wouldn't wait for me. I didn't expect to be back yet. And then Andrew paid for my ticket.”

I kissed him a zillion times and then asked if he wanted something to eat or drink.

“I want you to fuck me. Right here. Right now.”

“Right on my nice horsehair sofa?”

“Ok, the floor, then; but I've been waiting too long. Don't make it longer.”

“No, if I'm doing the fucking, I'm doing it right.” I picked him up and carried him to my room. Z wasn't much smaller than me. I had to ask him, “Have you lost weight?”

“Yeah, the agency in Italy likes the dark, gaunt look.”

I undressed him and made love to every part of him. Our first fuck was a little hurried, a little awkward. I saw pain in his face. “Z, I hurt you!”

“Just a little. I like it when you hurt me a little.” He pulled me close for a kiss. “Give it to me now; I want all of you. Cum in me, Eric.” And I did. “Good, so good,” he sighed, “Now we're back together.”

When we moved to the bath, I was the one who got fucked. We couldn't keep our hands off each other, and the soapy slipping, sliding, and stroking had us hard again. I don't think he actually planned on topping, but we ended up lying in the tub in a tangle and we fit perfectly together. He pumped his cock against my thigh and I watched his foreskin slide back more and more, revealing the redness of his glans. A slight change of angle and he pressed against my asshole; a slight change of pressure and he slid into me. I spread my legs wider. “Fuck me, Z. Fuck me, baby.”

When it was over, I looked at the tub and saw dark blue streaks. “My God, what happened?”

Z said, “I think you washed my tattoo off. I'm going to be an extra hour prepping on Monday.”

“What are you doing on Monday?”

We washed off the soap suds and dried ourselves off as Z explained. “Andrew arranged a Forum shoot here for me. He worked it out so we have two weekends with your LA stuff and my Forum shoot in the middle. Disney! Wow!”

I filled him in on what details I knew. We relaxed in each others arms in bed, with the light off and the windows open. We shared our warmth and a blanket as chill from the bay filled the room. “I feel like I never left,” Z said.

“Oh, you left, all right. I was so afraid you'd never come back.”

He stroked my face and kissed me. “I'm going to have to leave again, after next weekend; but it won't be for long.”

In the morning we walked to the kitchen almost tripping on the stairs because we couldn't let go of each other.

“Animals. Fucking animals! Moaning... groaning... I thought I'd never get to sleep last night,” Andrew bitched to no one in particular.

“You were out in five minutes. You said the sound of fucking was so peaceful it put you right to sleep,” Rory reminded him.

“Don't they sound just like a married couple?” I asked Z.

The new almost-neighbors left and Z said he wanted to take an hour and see his parents. I gave him the Ford and decided to go see Larry. He was resting in his apartment and surprised to see me. He said his breathing was fine and he didn't want to talk about the bruises on his legs.

I pushed, “Mysterious bruises always make the doctors wonder. If you can't give them the truth, you need to give them something believable. How about you were working on your can and the hood fell on you?”

Larry smiled, “You don't want to leave it alone, do you?”

“You're too good a guy to leave alone and I want to help; but if you really want me to shut up, say so.”

“It's complicated, as they say.”

I put a bright smile on and proposed, “Kinky? I love kinky.”

“Oh, what the hell. The answer is I have a boy friend who likes to hurt me. It's getting to be more than I can handle and I don't know what to do about it.”

“I know what to do. Never see the son of a bitch again. Move to my house today - right now. I have two empty rooms. It's no sweat.”

“It's not that easy. I'll get fired.”

“Aren't you guys in a union? That's what they're for. Sic the union on him.”

“Eric, he's the union local president, not the fire chief.” Larry laughed at the thought of the fire chief being involved. “The fire chief can't even stand up to the mayor, let alone the union.”

“I'm not giving up on this, Larry. We'll figure something out. Are you safe tonight?”

“Yeah, I'm fine. He's all full of regrets and treating me perfectly right now. That will be good for a month or so. It's a pressure that builds in him.”

“I'm going to be out of town next week, but this is not over.”

From Larry's I went to see Reston. Noon was a little early for a drink, nevertheless Reston had started without me. I wondered if Luke knew about the tequila shots before noon. Reston was congenial and sounded happy that Dr. Simmons was happy that I was happy. After we finished talking about my plans for Cal, I asked if there was something I could do for him.

“Fuck me maybe?”

“Wh.. uh..?” I sputtered.

“I'm sorry. I'm not hitting on you. I'm just lonesome; and you or someone like you would be just right. Ignore me. I'll find somebody.”

He ordered his third shot and I finished my iced tea. “Reston, I will find you someone. What would you think about a great-looking thirty-something photographer?”

“Mmmmmmmmmm … no. But, nice try.”

I got home and Z was in the kitchen making a salad. I came up behind him, put my arms around him, and nuzzled his neck. “How are your parents?” I kissed his exposed skin while waiting for his answer.

“Busy fucking up my little brother, who seems to be taking it well.”

I felt the inviting swell of his butt pressing into my groin and humped him a little.

“Damn you feel nice.” He pressed back againt me.

My hands were all over him and I pulled his shorts down enough to expose his ass, squeezing and kneading his cheeks. I said to him, “I'm trying to make love to you and you just keep on quietly slicing the tomatoes?”

“It's good this fucking knife is dull or I'd be missing fingers by now.”

I unzipped my jeans and let them drop. “Z, I have a little friend here who feels lonesome.” Pulling my underwear down, I lay my cock in his asscrack.

Z half-turned and kissed me. “Let's make your friend happy.”

“What about you?”

“Everything you do makes me happy.”

“Fuck! I don't have any lube.” I was ready to run upstairs, but Z held my arms around him.

Z nodded at a bottle of olive oil. “The Italians use it.”

“Let's toss this salad.”