Chapter Fifty-Eight
“The great thing about Asher is, he's not your typical glitzy, greasy model. He connects with people on a personal level.”
“Anybody with a dick like that would obliterate people on a personal level.”
“You say that because you're gay, Seth. Others, women, can see him in a more speculative light. Would I or wouldn't I?” Andrew worried that Seth's comment would not be helpful.
“Whatever the magic is, it worked,” the manager of Target said. “There were two remarkable things after that show. One, sales of the featured men's items were fifteen percent higher, which is about what we hoped. The second thing was sales of high-end lingerie were thirty percent higher than usual for a Thursday night.”
“That's good to hear … The margin on lingerie is good,” Andrew smiled and waited for the next comment.
“Good? It's almost criminal. So we're thinking we'd like you to do a show for us seasonally. The thing is … I say we're thinking about it, because the results seemed to hinge on the nudity and that's not something we want to be associated with. Not directly anyway. We're a family store, you see.”
“Why do you think the nudity was accidental? Give me some credit. It may have seemed accidental, but there's always nudity at my shows. Always. But it's never salacious, just a tease. It is never “part of the plan”; it just happens. It's brief. It's never blatant. The models are sexy without flaunting it. Even Asher always acts a little chagrined by his exposure. They do it without embarrassing themselves or the audience.”
“But won't the audience come to expect it? Asher is pretty memorable and after you've seen him once, you'd recognize him the second time.”
“We're an agency. We have an abundance of Ashers,” Andrew explained.
“A passel of penises,” Seth added, drawing a admonitory look from Andrew.
“A corral of cocks,” the assistant store manager chimed in, drawing a similar look from his boss.
“A bushel of balls,” an inventory clerk added.
“Marla!” The store manager was shocked by the comment from the quiet clerk.
She smiled sweetly, “Those Alvinzi brothers have very handsome balls.”
“They weren't nude in the show!”
“They were when I dressed them,” she added. “That football player was nice, too. We sold out of everything he wore. I listened to the talk in the lady's department. They were very pleased with the show.”
“What were you doing in the lady''s department?”
“Buying a bra.” Her answer draw attention to her breasts, which she always minimized with her usual choice of loose clothing. On closer inspection, she showed the promise of a very attractive figure. The assistant manager was still admiring her when the meeting broke up.
“Many happy endings,” Andrew said to Seth as they left the store.
“Andrew, you've used over-exuberant models, collapsing dressing room walls, a riot in the audience, and now an accidental TV shot of the dressing room. How are you going to keep Asher flashing the goods?”
“Hunger and imagination. Drive fast, ok? We need to be there when Lem gets out of school.”
“I signed him up for track team try-outs. We have plenty of time.”
“Well, go fast anyway. Nothing good ever happens on the 880.”
“You know what I'd like?” Seth's voice had an evil edge. “I'd like it if you got naked and jacked off for me.”
“Seth!”
“Really. I'd like to see how you do it. Show me. You're not that much smaller than Asher, you know. I want to see that thing spurt.”
“What's gotten into you?” Andrew protested as he unbuckled his belt. “You really want to watch?” He paused only briefly before sliding his pants down.
“Turn toward me. Lean back on the door. I want to see your balls bounce.”
“If I fall out ...you'll have to explain the half naked corpse.”
Seth drove in the slow lane so he could watch without killing both of them. “Nice … That's one sweet dick. I wish you were fucking me.” He mostly watched the road, but kept stealing glances.
“I feel like an idiot,” Andrew said as he stroked his cock slowly.
“You look hot. Now go faster,” Seth requested.
Andrew drew a deep breath and his eyes closed as his fist pumped.
“No, open your eyes and look at me. That's right. Think about what you're missing not fucking me much any more. I'm a good fuck, right?”
“You're a great fuck,” Andrew panted. “You know you are.”
“Slow down. I don't want you cumming yet. Slow strokes, coax some cum out.”
Andrew stroked slowly; he squeezed the swollen tube along the bottom of his cock and a generous dribble of clear cum oozed out of the tip of his cock. He smeared it in his hand and stroked some more. “Oh, shit!” he groaned feeling the slickness of nature's lube. “Mmm. MMM!”
“Stop! Don't you cum yet!” Seth grabbed Andrew's balls and tugged enough to cause pain. “Slow, I told you.”
“I'm so close ...” Andrew complained.
“No cumming.” Seth glanced over to make sure Andrew had himself under control. “Now suck on me while we cross the bridge. Make it last all the way across.”
Andrew opened Seth's jeans and worked his cock out of his underwear. He tasted the cock and complained. “You're kinda ripe.”
“Do it, Andrew. Yeah, that's right …” Seth spread his legs as much as his jeans would allow. “Finger my ass, ok? AAH! No don't stick it in, just play around.” Seth waited. “Ok, that's better. Nice … Some more.”
Andrew was getting into the blow job and doing a good job of it. Soon Seth was the one panting. “Mmmm. Yeah … Sweet … Ok, stop, I'm getting close. I said STOP!” Seth pulled Andrew's head off his cock. They grinned at each other. “Now, go back to jacking off.”
Andrew leaned back against the door and stroked his cock. It was dripping wet, wet enough that his hand made slurpy noises as it slid up and down. “Ooooh yeah, “ Andrew cooed. His cock was red and veiny, so hard, so ready.
“Don't you cum, you hear me? Don't do it! Suck me some more.”
Andrew put his head in Seth's lap and resumed sucking slowly on his cock. Seth ran his hand through Andrew's hair. Soft, thick, a little wavy, it felt good in Seth's fingers. He glanced down at the mousy blond-brown head bobbing in his lap. “Andrew, you have nice hair. Why don't you try a little lightener? Put some highlights in it.”
“Because I'd look like a drag queen in civilian clothes. I don't want to look like that. I'm swishy enough without that.”
“You're not so swishy,” Seth said as he continued playing with Andrew's hair. “Stop a second ...” He needed Andrew to wait while he maneuvered onto the 101 northbound. “Ok, back to sucking, slave.” Seth's tone was joking.
“I am your slave, Seth. You know I'd do anything for you.” Andrew resumed licking Seth's erection and then took in in his mouth.
“We need to have sex more, Andrew. I'm missing you lately. Oh! Wait! Stop!” Seth pulled Andrew off his cock again. By the time his near-orgasm retreated, the traffic got more congested. They passed through Brisbane and the sexy teasing ended.
The sex resumed the instant they got home. They had an hour at least until Lem would get there.
“Jeff, what are you doing for the holidays?”
“Going home, I guess. I don't have anything else to do.”
“You could … if you wanted, that is … you could stay here with me for a few days and still be home for Christmas.”
“I thought you wanted to end everything.”
“Jeff, you make everything so hard.” Jeff looked at his dick and Dormeyer quickly regretted his choice of words. “Not that. Well, of course, that. You do make me hard, but I mean you take me so literally. As if I know what I'm doing. I don't. I'm as confused as a teenager whenever I think about you.”
“Really? 'Get out' was what you said, I believe. How open to interpretation was that?”
“I didn't mean it. You know I didn't.” Dormeyer opened a desk drawer and withdrew a package. “Close the door,” he requested.
Jeff closed the office door and refrained from making any obvious remarks.
“Here. This is for you. Open it.”
Jeff fumbled with the ribbon and finally used shear force to pull it off, nearly breaking the box. He opened the box and saw the glint of gold. It was a bracelet, very masculine, machined gold links with a central section that spelled out his name in subtle lettering that matched the texture of the links.
“I tried to think of something to write on a card. Nothing worked. I didn't know what to write. I can't get along without you, Jeff.”
“What about the school? The gossip? I've been thinking, too. You are right to worry about it.”
Dormeyer held out his hands, palms up. “I don't know. I'm not sure I care.”
“Yes, you do,” Jeff insisted and then offered a solution. “What if we're very careful. Nobody ever sees us together. We go for walks by ourselves. Go into the city where nobody would see us.”
“When do we make love? I'm too old to do it in the woods.”
“I bet you're not.” That got no response from Dormeyer so Jeff coontinued. “Ok, so we get a sleeping bag. We get a motel room. We sneak into my dorm room. It will only be until May. Then I won't be a student any more.”
Dormeyer's longing was overpowering. He had trouble breathing evenly. “Jeff ...” His voice squeaked. “Come here.”
Jeff lay on top of him in his desk chair, tilting the chair and forcing the older man back. It was uncomfortable for both of them but neither wanted to separate. Dormeyer ran his hands over Jeff's body, tracing the familiar contours. He couldn't get enough and tugged at Jeff's clothes futilely.
Jeff got up and shucked his shirt. “I want you in me right here, right now!” He loosened his pants and let them drop to the floor. “Fuck me, Jinx.”
They grappled on the table, knocking papers and books to the floor. At last Dormeyer was in Jeff and pumping frantically. They clung to each other from a need that was part sexual and part balancing act. At that moment they needed physical release, not passion. When the moment approached, Dormeyer was getting there first.
“Do it, Jinx. Come for me,” Jeff begged. His hands pulled Dormeyer into him.
Dormeyer slowed and then paused at the sound of footsteps in the hall. “Did you lock the door?” he whispered.
Any answer would have been too late. A colleague, a professor who specialized in medieval scholasticism, opened the door and stuck his head in. “Jinx, by any chance … Oh … Oh, my ...” He closed the door quietly. They listened to his footfalls as he walked quickly away.
Dormeyer slumped in defeat. Then he withdrew his hard cock from Jeff and began organizing his clothing and the room. “Oh, my ...” he echoed his colleague. “Oh, my ...”
“Jinx, I'm sorry ...” Jeff began.
Dormeyer ignored Jeff and began a monologue. “I'll have to face up to it. I'll have to talk to him. Confess. Yes, it was A student, I'll tell him, but not my student. It wasn't MY student. Well, he was MY student last year, and he is MY student in the sense that we are lovers; but he's not taking my course at the moment. He's near graduation. It was consensual. Foolish, I suppose; but we're all foolish sometimes, don't you agree?” Dormeyer turned to Jeff. “Do you think he'll understand? Do you think he's ever known temptations? His field is so rigid, so filled with strict distinction and rigor. He will judge me harshly. And then what? What will he do? He will act. What shall I do? With my career in ruins. With my life over.”
“Jinx, don't say that. Don't think that.”
“It wasn't your fault, my beautiful Jeff. You did nothing wrong. I could not have wished for a better lover. Your were the model. I was the poor maquette. My sweet boy ...” He stroked Jeff's cheek with a finger. “You should go now. I'll conceal your identity as long as I can. How I love you, but you have to go … Here, take the bracelet ...”
“Jinx, I'll call you later, at home, after you've had a chance to think. We can work something out. No matter what happens. It's not the end of the world.”
It was, though. The end of the world for Dormeyer came later, a bit before Jeff called and after some excellent pills he kept to treat sciatica had a chance to work. He began with what remained of a bottle of single malt Scotch. It was the Macallan 18, most suitable for the occasion, although he preferred a drier Glenlivet. The muscle relaxants were calming and soothing and took effect as he sipped a second tot of the Macallan. He recalled the look of pure astonishment as his idiot colleague Lawrence slowly comprehended what he was seeing in a school office. Jinx had to laugh. What did he think we were doing? Correcting papers? He tried just two of the opiates and waited until he felt the pleasant itchiness of morphine on his nose. Such a beautiful boy, almost a man, was my Jeff. The stereotypical porn star with a heart of gold. I'm glad he's not here now. Dormeyer took the rest of the pills in a couple of handfuls and washed them down with more Scotch. Very pleasant. Just like drifting off to sleep.
Quek Kwang looked up expectantly. “I'm supposed to fuck you,” Nicky said when he returned to the cell. “On advice of counsel.” Quek Kwang just nodded. “Where is the hidden camera? I want to make sure they get a good view. They need physical evidence of my deviant, foreign ways.”
Quek Kwang rose and began disrobing.
“You don't have to be so willing,” Nicky said. He lay back on his bunk fully clothed making no moves. “In fact, you should probably try to resist my overpowering advances.” He looked at Quek Kwang closely. There was a little of Darren in the shape of his jaw. But Darren was taller, with those bright blue eyes made more startling by his dark hair. Model-slim, though, just like Darren.
“How do you want me?” Quek Kwang asked when he got down to his underwear.
“I want you in front of the camera.”
“I'm not sure where the camera is.” Quek Kwang glanced about the room while edging closer to Nicky. He sat on the bunk and groped for Nicky's cock.
Nicky folded his hands behind his head and allowed Quek Kwang to ascertain that Nicky was willing but not ready. A gentle massage did nothing to change the situation. Quek Kwang was persistent, however, and continued a rhythmic effort.
“You are too young to be so uninterested,” Quek Kwang commented. “Don't worry. I know other ways.” He unzipped Nicky's fly and inserted his hand.
“You are too young to be interesting at all,” Nicky countered.
Quek Kwang just smiled and slipped his underwear off. He knelt over Nicky, straddling his thighs and slowly began stroking his own cock, which responded promptly, growing and stiffening. The head turned a deep red, almost purple as it engorged.
“A young boy doesn't have this.” Quek Kwang bent his cock down to Nicky's lips and rubbed it from side to side. “No? Still not interested?” Quek Kwang milked his cock and drew forth a glistening droplet which he rubbed off onto Nicky's dry lips. Nicky's tongue flicked out and Quek Kwang pushed into his mouth and then withdrew. “Ah-ha! Now you're hard.” The satisfied seducer went back to his task of getting Nicky's clothes off. It wasn't difficult. He gave Nicky a preparatory blow job, getting him wet and ready and then attempted to sit on Nicky's cock.
“Come on, Nicky. You're not cooperating,” Quek Kwang complained as he attempted to cram Nicky's cock into himself.
“Shit,” Nicky muttered and overcame his reluctance. “Get on all fours,” he ordered.
“I don't know what 'on all fours' means.”
“Kneel.” Nicky entered him from the rear and let nature work out the rest. Right before he came, he said, “Smile for the camera.”
Nicky told himself that technically he had been faithful. There was no lust in what he had done, no drive, no pleasure. Well, ok, there was pleasure; even bad sex isn't so terrible. He felt a little dirty, but otherwise he felt that Darren would understand. Darren probably would have done the same thing, he thought. Darren is always a very practical person.
Their dinner came and it was surprisingly tasty, a huge improvement over what they had been eating. The cup of water wasn't water. It was some kind of sake like wine, not great, but not bad either, and it was a big cup. Very warming. Some kind of a signal, Nicky assumed. They have whatever they wanted from me, he figured. Tsien-tsien must have been right.
The next morning with no ceremony, not even a piece of paper for his trouble, he was released. Tsien-tsien waited in a car outside the doors of the building. Nicky looked back. There was nothing to identify the building, no government plaque over the door, no street number, nothing.
“I brought you some clothes,” Tsien-tsien said as they drove into a better part of town.
“Your people got what they wanted?”
“They did. Your afternoon sex scene was perfect. Uncaring, semi-brutal and detached, mechanical. Genuine fuck-him-and-forget-him style.” Tsien-tsien laughed.
“Wasn't that what you wanted?”
“Exactly,” Tsien-tsien confirmed. “But then you went and fucked him all night long. That almost got you rearrested for perversion. I had to do a lot of talking to get that overlooked.”
“Must have been the wine,” Nicky said.
“You still have an empty bedroom?” Eric asked.
“Yeah, sure. Same one you left,” his former roommate answered.
“So, Mitch, I was thinking if it's alright, I'd move back?”
His roommate shrugged. “Yeah, why not? Things didn't work out with the nurse?”
“When I'm in practice, I want to hire him to run my office. Man, talk about bossy! Nothing I did was ever right.”
“See, a straight guy wouldn't have minded that. A straight guy would have been so pussy-whipped that he'd have agreed to anything for one more night! Anything for one more fuck!” Mitch laughed his ass off and choked on his next swig of beer.
“I've still got a key. So it's ok if I just move back tonight?”
“Saturday night? You want to waste it moving?”
“Yeah, Spike's working and I won't have to annoy him while I pack.”
“Eric, you're too considerate. If I weren't straight, I think seriously about marrying you.”
“Actually, I don't want to listen to him bitch at me for another two hours.”
“Ah, now there's a real guy talking. Sit your ass down and have a beer with me.” Mitch signaled the waitress for another pitcher.
“You think there's anything to that turning straight business? Being straight has got to be easier than this,” Eric said as he poured himself a glassful.
“Are you serious?”
“About looking for something easier?”
“No, about turning straight. Because I know a psych post-doc who has theories about it. About it being a matter of rewiring your brain using stem cells.”
“Sounds like a natural lobotomy,” Eric laughed.
“He's looking for volunteers.”
“For stem cell injection? Human volunteers? How'd he ever get that protocol approved.”
“I don't think he's up to the cell work yet. He's just examining patient motivation and conditioning so far. Building up base line data.”
“It couldn't hurt, I guess. To talk to him, I mean.” Eric refilled his glass. “Man, I'm not even out of Spike's place yet and already I feel a hundred percent better.”
Must be "The windmills of your mind" or somethin' 
