EasyRory
JUB Addict
Trust me: you wouldn't have been happy with what I had written. I sure wasn't.
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Rory's Stories
- Thread starter EasyRory
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seanystarr
Slut
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- Sep 22, 2006
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only teasing Rory of course, we only want to see the chapters you are 100% happy with
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Sounds like a typical author - perfectionist.
Happy New Year, Rory.
Happy New Year, Rory.
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Session Fifty-Nine
Bradley Vroman was pissed. It was obvious. “How can you tell? ” the senior asked his Freshmen charge.
“Duh ...” Alex answered. “You're just going through a dry spell. Things will change.”
“I was doing so well and then I ran out of sopranos and I swear those altos are all Lesbians.”
Bradley's fetish for singing girls had led him to an acquaintance with several members of a girl's choral group. That and his yen for outdoor sex at twilight had made him semi-famous at Stanford. Members of the girl's choir, which had recently performed a Scottish program, began referring to a tumble with Bradley as Vroman in the Gloamin'.
“I have a possible date with an alto but it's dependent on getting tickets to a concert. The Indigo Girls and k.d.lang.”
“And you think this alto is straight? Why?” Alex teased.
“The term is grateful. She's known for being very grateful. Cheryl gives a great blow job.”
“Concert tickets for a possible b j? That's a high risk investment, I'd say,” Alex counseled his counselor. He wondered if this Cheryl was Daegan's Cheryl.
“Plus I have no money, at least not enough for $200 concert tickets. Maybe I need a complete change. Maybe the girl's field hockey team.”
“You have no money and you need a change. Have you considered doing porn?”
Bradley tousled his charge's hair. “Pretty ambitious for a Freshmen. That would definitely be a non-credit course.”
“Very profitable, though. I got $500 an hour and you couldn't even tell the pictures were me.”
Bradley's attention shifted to Alex. “Details?” he requested. After Alex provided a limited explanation, the upperclassman commented, “No shit. A thousand just for showing your ass.” He couldn't believe it. “A thousand? ... Just for showing your ass?”
“And tomorrow I'm modeling clothes. Not as much money, but it's so easy,” Alex explained about the show at Zara's.
“I told him how easy it was. I think he's actually interested,” Alex later told Daegan.
“Who wouldn't be? You make porn sound like a day trip to the zoo.”
“I wasn't sure whether Cheryl was the same, but it's a good joke anyway.”
“Probably is the same. I've heard stories … So ...” Daegan said, handing Alex a bottle of Guiness. “Confusion to the enemy!” he toasted. “Maybe Bradley will come to the show with us.”
Nicky called Darren to tell him he and Morrie were in town for the show. That was Nicky's way of issuing a summons to the hotel and Darren was prompt.
“Darren, mi fratello! Ciao! Come Stai?” The Italian allowed Nicky a two-cheek kiss and a hug.
Nicky's warm greeting felt genuine and cheered Darren as it was meant to do. As a result Darren then cheered up Morrie considerably. Once again, Darren was the top. “That was sweet, Darren. Did you miss me?” Morrie asked in response to Darren's performance.
“As a matter of fact … yes. You are so different from my other boss.” Darren left whether that was good or bad to Morrie's imagination.
“Now you make me sorry I'm going to miss your show. I've gotta spend tomorrow night with some real estate people with political connections.”
Darren stayed with Morrie for the night, although there wasn't any more sex, just talk. Morrie seemed honestly interested in how the Stanford job was going and gave Darren some ideas on how to sell the Center on taking up the contract options. Morrie was affectionate and encouraging as they talked and sometimes kissed; Darren almost forgot the real reason he was in Morrie's bed.
“He can be that way,” Nicky said the next morning. “There's really no bullshit about Morrie. You know right away whether he likes you or not; and he is fascinating to be around. It's never dull, believe me … So, remember your promise? Morrie's given me the day off. Can we go to Santa Cruz?”
“We could … “ Darren said, “...if you want to freeze to death. If you want something warmer, without cows, we could go to the Oakland Hills.”
“Anywhere you want.”
“Ok, but I need to do an hour's work this morning. You want to come? You can meet my boss … my other boss.” Nicky agreed. “You'll like him. Plus he's hot looking,” Darren joked.
Tim and Neil had Josh picked up and brought to the station house for questioning. The trip allowed a sense of dread and worry to develop in the suspect. Neil didn't make things any easier. “You have the right to remain silent, punk. You have the right to an attorney, asshole. Anything you say can be used to burn your ass.”
“Neil, easy,” Tim cautioned, keeping a straight face. Tim gave Josh a gentler reminder of what was left of his Miranda rights and then asked a few simple questions that Josh had no difficult answering. “I forgot, do we have your permission to continue questioning?” Josh assented and the climate changed.
“You went to a football camp as a member of the Acalanes High team conducted at the University of California field in Berkeley, is that right?”
“Yes, two summers.”
“And you met Ted Dorrance at that camp, correct?”
“Yes. I met Ted the second summer, before senior year.”
“Did you become friends?”
“We ...” Josh hesitated.
“Did you become sexually intimate with him?” Tim made it a simple question, nothing accusatory .
“He fucked you, right?” Neil followed up more bluntly.
“Yes,” Josh admitted. “I had never done anything like that before.” Neil left the room, leaving Tim in charge.
“That must have been hard for you. Was Dorrance decent about it?” Tim prodded gently.
“Oh, yes. It was all new to him, too. He was very ...” Josh had no word for the relationship.
“You were infatuated?”
“Yes, he totally changed my life.”
“And you stayed in touch after the camp ended?”
“The camp was only a month in July and then regular school practice started in August. Yes, we met - once or twice a week I guess.”
“And the sex continued?”
“Yes. It was legal. We were both old enough.”
“Did you ever discuss your teams' prospects with him?” Tim continued and Josh became wary.
“Uh … in general, I guess.”
“Did you ever pass Dorrance's opinions on to anyone else?”
“Uh … uh … I think I want a lawyer.”
“Josh, we pretty much have it figured out, what the two of you were up to. As long as you didn't kill Dorrance, and I don't think you did, I'll leave you out of things as far as prosecution goes. If ...” Tim paused. “If you give us a little help with the football business. If you don't … well, we can pretty much nail you for the killing. Your prints in the car. Blood evidence in the trunk. It's all there.”
Neil, who had been observing, returned to the room. “Mancini told us lots to save his skin. You can do the same. Or that skin will look pretty choice in San Quentin.” Neil's off-hand manner displayed complete callousness and indifference.
“It doesn't have to be that way, Josh,” Tim soothed; he put his hand comfortingly on Josh's wrist. “That's only if you don't cooperate.”
Josh spilled his guts and signed his voluntary statement before noon. Tim and Neil didn't have a murderer yet; but they had a football gambling ring fully described, implicating the coaching staffs of two high schools. There had to be more. As Tim was about to arrange a ride back to Berkeley, Josh motioned to him. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Tim returned to the witness room and gave Josh a fresh warning about testimony.
“I just want to explain about Dorrance. He wasn't always a dick. We hit it off as friends; did everything together that first month. Then in a sauna room .. it just happened. We were sitting on the same bench. His towel came open. Or maybe he opened it. I don't know. Then I couldn't take my eyes off him. He touched himself a little and his dick started to harden. He lay back and let me watch. Then he opened my towel. I was paralyzed. He put his hand on me. And left it there. I got hard as he held me.”
Tim gulped, “You don't have to tell me this stuff. It isn't relevant to the crime.”
“I need to tell somebody, ok? I have to. From the minute he touched me I knew exactly what I wanted to do. We went back to our rooms and waited for my roommate to go home for the weekend. Then we spent the next two days … doing … you know ... we did everything two guys can possibly do together. And it was great. He never used the word, but he treated me with ...” Josh caught his breath; he nearly sobbed. “We switched rooms and spent the rest of camp together. He was so nice, so perfect. We made love every night and he didn't hold back anything. We kept it up after camp ended and then right before Thanksgiving, he told me to get lost. No warning. This guy I learned everything from, who I thought loved me, said 'I don't want to do this any more.' Just like that – he dumped me and started drugs. It got worse and every time I tried to talk he was a mess. I don't know how he made it through that year of school. I know I barely did.” Josh came close to tears but held them back.
“I'll take you home,” Tim said.
In the car Josh thanked Tim for listening and shocked Tim. “I knew I could tell you. You're gay so you understand how I felt when the first guy I ever loved, the guy I thought loved me told me to fuck off.”
Tim made no immediate comment. First he was astonished and then he felt panicky that his homosexuality was known. “How did you know that I'm gay?”
“Little signs. The way you look at guys, mostly. Plus you listened to my story without being disgusted.” Josh sat quietly for a minute and then began again. “There's more to the story. I might as well tell you. It can't make things any worse.”
“Should I record this?” Tim asked. He fished out his pocket voice recorder.
“Yeah, record it. I was there when Ted was murdered. I'll tell you what I know but there isn't any proof for any of it.”
Tim parked the car and activated the recorder with a statement of time, place, and persons present. “Go ahead. Tell me what you know.”
“Ted called me early on Christmas Eve and invited me to meet him. He said he wanted to explain some things. I used Mancini's car to meet him in Alameda and we parked near Washington Park. We sat in the car but he didn't explain anything. He told me he needed money. I had about forty dollars and gave it to him. He wasn't satisfied. He wanted more. 'Let's go to an ATM' he demanded. I told him no and asked him to get out of the car. He threatened to tell everything he knew about me to my boss. Mancini wouldn't care personally; but he'd have to deal with something that public. It would be messy. I'd get fired. So I got him another hundred from an ATM on Webster and he said ok but he'd want more. He had me drive him to Crab Cove. On the way he snorted something and mellowed a bit, started talking about football camp. We parked on the street and he tried to kiss me. I backed away. He looked like shit and his breath stank. He got out of the car when he saw some guy. He said wait and went to the guy to buy some drugs. The guy took the money and demanded more. Then he shot Ted repeatedly.”
“Do you know how many shots were fired?” Tim interrupted.
“Three? I think three. Ted tried to fight and then ran back to me in the car. He collapsed at the door and the other guy grabbed me. I thought he was going to kill me. He ordered me to put Dorrance in the trunk. I don't think he was dead yet. I think he died in the trunk and then we dumped him on Shoreline. The guy figured with Christmas Eve partying he'd get run over enough to hide what happened. I don't know who the guy was and I don't think I could identify him, except he had a T-shaped scar on both hands. That's all I know.” Still Josh didn't break down, but there were tears on his cheeks.
“We better go back to the station house,” Tim turned the car back toward Alameda.
Darren introduced Nicky to the office and then briefed Rory on progress at Stanford. Nicky stood out like a palm tree in Alaska. He looked handsome in a very expensive way, not at all like a programmer; his clothes were too coordinated. Although no one mentioned it, Darren knew he was in for a grilling the next day.
Nicky was complimentary. “Great bunch, Darren, and Rory seems like a dream-boss.”
“He is. He's unbelievable. At first I had a little crush on him; everybody does sooner or later.”
They headed east and as they moved through Oakland up into the hills everything got clean, orderly, and suburban. They stopped to pick up some food in Montclair and then drove to Redwood Park; they stopped near the Chabot Space and Science Center.
“Are we going here? I love science exhibits.” Nicky made it sound as if he really did.
“We can if you want. Later, though. First we have to see some things.”
They walked southeast and higher into the hills. The air was crisp and smelled of redwood and pine. Nicky stopped to pick up a pine cone. “Darren, look. This thing is beautiful. It's like a wooden flower. It's perfect.”
“Come on over here,” Darren called. At a break in the trees the vista opened suddenly and gave them a view to the east. “That's Mount Diablo. And right below us is Moraga, where my brother's friend Eric is from. And there to the north – it's a little hazy – is Orinda, where I'm from. And down there – you can barely see it - is Livermore, where they make atomic bombs, I think.”
Nicky laughed at the idea of atomic bombs coming from such a peaceful setting. He looked at Darren, who continued cheerfully pointing out other sights that must have been important to him in younger days. “I wish I had known you then,” he said.
“When?” Darren asked.
“When you lived in this valley. When you were a kid. When you were learning all this stuff. If you want to be precise, when you were eleven years old and fascinated with everything in the world.”
“That's about the nicest thing anybody ever said to me.” Darren wondered why Nicky had said it. A noisy group of school kids went crashing along the trail and the mood was broken. “Come on over here. See what a difference fifty feet makes.”
From the other side of the ridge San Francisco Bay spread out before them. “You can see the city, of course, and the Golden Gate. Which actually looks a little brown today. And the island right below us is Alameda where I live now. Over there is Marin County. That's Mount Tamalpais, on the road we took back from Point Reyes. And down this way, you can't see it, is San Jose. Right about there ...” Darren pointed to a smudge to the southwest. “... is Stanford where I'm working. And...”
Nicky took Darren's face in his hands. “Stop being so irresistible.” Nicky smiled; and Darren smiled back. “What about lunch? What did you buy in ...where? Montclair?”
“I got us some sandwiches.” Darren sat on the ground and opened a bag. He handed Nicky a paper bundle.
“This thing looks like a salad on bread.” Vegetation was falling out two sides of the sandwich onto Nicky's lap.
“There's tofu in there somewhere. Z recommended the sandwich place. If it's bad, you can tell him about it tonight.”
They hiked for miles along the ridge, enjoying the day and the view. By the time they got back to the Space and Science Center, it was too late to visit. “There you go,” Darren said. “Put the Chabot Center on your list. Another reason to come back.”
“All you have to do is ask.”
They drove back into the city in an amazingly short time and then once they got off the freeway things ground to a halt. They inched their way through the rush hour traffic and arrived at the hotel with little time to spare.
Morrie was effusive. “And what have my two handsome boys been up to while I worked like a dog to keep us all employed, hmmm?”
“We walked along the hills on the east side of the bay.”
Morrie didn't really listen to the answer; but, once he finished tying his tie, he kissed them both with unexpected passion and left for his business dinner. While Darren showered, Nicky packed all the bags and had them sent to the airport. He and Morrie had a red-eye east at ten-fifty. The show was planned to end at nine, the store closing time; so Nicky's timing would be close.
The show began at seven but the early crowd was modest. Andrew was fretting over the so-so turnout making Alex nervous for his first job. “Did you bring some Stanford guys up for the show?” Andrew asked.
“I told a couple guys about it, but that''s all.” Alex peeked out from the changing area. Heiko, Daegan, and Bradley Vroman, of all people, were sitting in the front row. Heiko was wearing a Stanford sweatshirt.
“Well at least your people showed up. Where the hell is Hugo?”
“I'm on the phone with him now. He's tits up with the flu,” Seth said, talking into the phone and to Andrew at once. “We'll have to go with three models.”
“We can't; there's not enough time to change with three. Alex, how big are you?”
“Five ten, a hundred fifty-five.”
“That would make Hugo about six feet and a hundred eighty. Do any of your friends fit those measurements? Well don't just stand there, go ask them?”
Alex returned with Bradley. “What do I do?” asked a willing but ignorant Brad.
“You're going out fourth. Watch the first three guys and do what they do.”
So Bradley made a few rounds of the cat walk before the crowd got big. By eight, the room was crowded and sales were moving swiftly. He hesitated when Andrew handed him a pair of board shorts and nothing else, but Andrew looked impatient. Bradley meekly headed out the curtain wearing the shorts. The shorts clung and the crowd got a nicer preview than Bradley realized of how well he was built. Then Alex went out wearing just a pair of gray boxer briefs and the crowd was quiet.
Half way around the circuit, the buy buttons began lighting up and, as Andrew had predicted, that model of underwear sold out. Alex paused in the last spotlight while the announcer spoke. “Alex, we sold every pair, including the ones you're wearing.” Alex stepped out of the spot, took the underwear off and threw it to the crowd. With a quick flash of the world's most perfect ass, he disappeared behind the curtain. Z modeled some conventional boxers in gay pride rainbow stripes, but they didn't sell well. Darren wore briefs in camouflage greens and they sold out before he was half way around the circuit. Again, at the final spotlight, his pair went to the crowd.
Bradley blanched when Seth handed him the thong. “You're shittin' me.”
“No guts, big upperclassman?” Alex taunted.
Bradley took the challenge but at the last minute needed a little push onto the walk. For the first quarter of the walk, he was tentative. Then his swagger took over. I can do this, he thought. At the halfway mark, the thong sold out, but Bradley didn't wait for the spotlight tease. He took the thong off and finished the last half of the walk naked. Photo flashes went off, a lot of photo flashes.
Backstage Andrew was chuckling and the Zara execs huddled in worried, urgent discussion. “Nice work,” Alex said. “I told you this stuff was easy. Want to bet you're on You Tube before we get back to Palo Alto?”
Bradley was wired from the adrenaline rush and was jumping up and down. “Whoa! How was that? What a feeling!”
Even Z was laughing. It was complete nudity; but it was like a jock goofing off in a locker room, not at all like porn. He handed Bradley a robe. “Before you get us all arrested.”
As soon as he was dressed, Darren drove Nicky to the airport. As they walked into the terminal Darren said, “You know, I think Morrie is getting tired of me. What am I supposed to do now, Nicky?”
Nicky looked him right in the eye and answered, “You could fall in love with me. I'm tired of being in this affair alone.”
Before Darren could react, Nicky mirrored Darren's open mouth surprise. Then he laughed, winked, and walked into the security line.
Bradley Vroman was pissed. It was obvious. “How can you tell? ” the senior asked his Freshmen charge.
“Duh ...” Alex answered. “You're just going through a dry spell. Things will change.”
“I was doing so well and then I ran out of sopranos and I swear those altos are all Lesbians.”
Bradley's fetish for singing girls had led him to an acquaintance with several members of a girl's choral group. That and his yen for outdoor sex at twilight had made him semi-famous at Stanford. Members of the girl's choir, which had recently performed a Scottish program, began referring to a tumble with Bradley as Vroman in the Gloamin'.
“I have a possible date with an alto but it's dependent on getting tickets to a concert. The Indigo Girls and k.d.lang.”
“And you think this alto is straight? Why?” Alex teased.
“The term is grateful. She's known for being very grateful. Cheryl gives a great blow job.”
“Concert tickets for a possible b j? That's a high risk investment, I'd say,” Alex counseled his counselor. He wondered if this Cheryl was Daegan's Cheryl.
“Plus I have no money, at least not enough for $200 concert tickets. Maybe I need a complete change. Maybe the girl's field hockey team.”
“You have no money and you need a change. Have you considered doing porn?”
Bradley tousled his charge's hair. “Pretty ambitious for a Freshmen. That would definitely be a non-credit course.”
“Very profitable, though. I got $500 an hour and you couldn't even tell the pictures were me.”
Bradley's attention shifted to Alex. “Details?” he requested. After Alex provided a limited explanation, the upperclassman commented, “No shit. A thousand just for showing your ass.” He couldn't believe it. “A thousand? ... Just for showing your ass?”
“And tomorrow I'm modeling clothes. Not as much money, but it's so easy,” Alex explained about the show at Zara's.
“I told him how easy it was. I think he's actually interested,” Alex later told Daegan.
“Who wouldn't be? You make porn sound like a day trip to the zoo.”
“I wasn't sure whether Cheryl was the same, but it's a good joke anyway.”
“Probably is the same. I've heard stories … So ...” Daegan said, handing Alex a bottle of Guiness. “Confusion to the enemy!” he toasted. “Maybe Bradley will come to the show with us.”
Nicky called Darren to tell him he and Morrie were in town for the show. That was Nicky's way of issuing a summons to the hotel and Darren was prompt.
“Darren, mi fratello! Ciao! Come Stai?” The Italian allowed Nicky a two-cheek kiss and a hug.
Nicky's warm greeting felt genuine and cheered Darren as it was meant to do. As a result Darren then cheered up Morrie considerably. Once again, Darren was the top. “That was sweet, Darren. Did you miss me?” Morrie asked in response to Darren's performance.
“As a matter of fact … yes. You are so different from my other boss.” Darren left whether that was good or bad to Morrie's imagination.
“Now you make me sorry I'm going to miss your show. I've gotta spend tomorrow night with some real estate people with political connections.”
Darren stayed with Morrie for the night, although there wasn't any more sex, just talk. Morrie seemed honestly interested in how the Stanford job was going and gave Darren some ideas on how to sell the Center on taking up the contract options. Morrie was affectionate and encouraging as they talked and sometimes kissed; Darren almost forgot the real reason he was in Morrie's bed.
“He can be that way,” Nicky said the next morning. “There's really no bullshit about Morrie. You know right away whether he likes you or not; and he is fascinating to be around. It's never dull, believe me … So, remember your promise? Morrie's given me the day off. Can we go to Santa Cruz?”
“We could … “ Darren said, “...if you want to freeze to death. If you want something warmer, without cows, we could go to the Oakland Hills.”
“Anywhere you want.”
“Ok, but I need to do an hour's work this morning. You want to come? You can meet my boss … my other boss.” Nicky agreed. “You'll like him. Plus he's hot looking,” Darren joked.
Tim and Neil had Josh picked up and brought to the station house for questioning. The trip allowed a sense of dread and worry to develop in the suspect. Neil didn't make things any easier. “You have the right to remain silent, punk. You have the right to an attorney, asshole. Anything you say can be used to burn your ass.”
“Neil, easy,” Tim cautioned, keeping a straight face. Tim gave Josh a gentler reminder of what was left of his Miranda rights and then asked a few simple questions that Josh had no difficult answering. “I forgot, do we have your permission to continue questioning?” Josh assented and the climate changed.
“You went to a football camp as a member of the Acalanes High team conducted at the University of California field in Berkeley, is that right?”
“Yes, two summers.”
“And you met Ted Dorrance at that camp, correct?”
“Yes. I met Ted the second summer, before senior year.”
“Did you become friends?”
“We ...” Josh hesitated.
“Did you become sexually intimate with him?” Tim made it a simple question, nothing accusatory .
“He fucked you, right?” Neil followed up more bluntly.
“Yes,” Josh admitted. “I had never done anything like that before.” Neil left the room, leaving Tim in charge.
“That must have been hard for you. Was Dorrance decent about it?” Tim prodded gently.
“Oh, yes. It was all new to him, too. He was very ...” Josh had no word for the relationship.
“You were infatuated?”
“Yes, he totally changed my life.”
“And you stayed in touch after the camp ended?”
“The camp was only a month in July and then regular school practice started in August. Yes, we met - once or twice a week I guess.”
“And the sex continued?”
“Yes. It was legal. We were both old enough.”
“Did you ever discuss your teams' prospects with him?” Tim continued and Josh became wary.
“Uh … in general, I guess.”
“Did you ever pass Dorrance's opinions on to anyone else?”
“Uh … uh … I think I want a lawyer.”
“Josh, we pretty much have it figured out, what the two of you were up to. As long as you didn't kill Dorrance, and I don't think you did, I'll leave you out of things as far as prosecution goes. If ...” Tim paused. “If you give us a little help with the football business. If you don't … well, we can pretty much nail you for the killing. Your prints in the car. Blood evidence in the trunk. It's all there.”
Neil, who had been observing, returned to the room. “Mancini told us lots to save his skin. You can do the same. Or that skin will look pretty choice in San Quentin.” Neil's off-hand manner displayed complete callousness and indifference.
“It doesn't have to be that way, Josh,” Tim soothed; he put his hand comfortingly on Josh's wrist. “That's only if you don't cooperate.”
Josh spilled his guts and signed his voluntary statement before noon. Tim and Neil didn't have a murderer yet; but they had a football gambling ring fully described, implicating the coaching staffs of two high schools. There had to be more. As Tim was about to arrange a ride back to Berkeley, Josh motioned to him. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Tim returned to the witness room and gave Josh a fresh warning about testimony.
“I just want to explain about Dorrance. He wasn't always a dick. We hit it off as friends; did everything together that first month. Then in a sauna room .. it just happened. We were sitting on the same bench. His towel came open. Or maybe he opened it. I don't know. Then I couldn't take my eyes off him. He touched himself a little and his dick started to harden. He lay back and let me watch. Then he opened my towel. I was paralyzed. He put his hand on me. And left it there. I got hard as he held me.”
Tim gulped, “You don't have to tell me this stuff. It isn't relevant to the crime.”
“I need to tell somebody, ok? I have to. From the minute he touched me I knew exactly what I wanted to do. We went back to our rooms and waited for my roommate to go home for the weekend. Then we spent the next two days … doing … you know ... we did everything two guys can possibly do together. And it was great. He never used the word, but he treated me with ...” Josh caught his breath; he nearly sobbed. “We switched rooms and spent the rest of camp together. He was so nice, so perfect. We made love every night and he didn't hold back anything. We kept it up after camp ended and then right before Thanksgiving, he told me to get lost. No warning. This guy I learned everything from, who I thought loved me, said 'I don't want to do this any more.' Just like that – he dumped me and started drugs. It got worse and every time I tried to talk he was a mess. I don't know how he made it through that year of school. I know I barely did.” Josh came close to tears but held them back.
“I'll take you home,” Tim said.
In the car Josh thanked Tim for listening and shocked Tim. “I knew I could tell you. You're gay so you understand how I felt when the first guy I ever loved, the guy I thought loved me told me to fuck off.”
Tim made no immediate comment. First he was astonished and then he felt panicky that his homosexuality was known. “How did you know that I'm gay?”
“Little signs. The way you look at guys, mostly. Plus you listened to my story without being disgusted.” Josh sat quietly for a minute and then began again. “There's more to the story. I might as well tell you. It can't make things any worse.”
“Should I record this?” Tim asked. He fished out his pocket voice recorder.
“Yeah, record it. I was there when Ted was murdered. I'll tell you what I know but there isn't any proof for any of it.”
Tim parked the car and activated the recorder with a statement of time, place, and persons present. “Go ahead. Tell me what you know.”
“Ted called me early on Christmas Eve and invited me to meet him. He said he wanted to explain some things. I used Mancini's car to meet him in Alameda and we parked near Washington Park. We sat in the car but he didn't explain anything. He told me he needed money. I had about forty dollars and gave it to him. He wasn't satisfied. He wanted more. 'Let's go to an ATM' he demanded. I told him no and asked him to get out of the car. He threatened to tell everything he knew about me to my boss. Mancini wouldn't care personally; but he'd have to deal with something that public. It would be messy. I'd get fired. So I got him another hundred from an ATM on Webster and he said ok but he'd want more. He had me drive him to Crab Cove. On the way he snorted something and mellowed a bit, started talking about football camp. We parked on the street and he tried to kiss me. I backed away. He looked like shit and his breath stank. He got out of the car when he saw some guy. He said wait and went to the guy to buy some drugs. The guy took the money and demanded more. Then he shot Ted repeatedly.”
“Do you know how many shots were fired?” Tim interrupted.
“Three? I think three. Ted tried to fight and then ran back to me in the car. He collapsed at the door and the other guy grabbed me. I thought he was going to kill me. He ordered me to put Dorrance in the trunk. I don't think he was dead yet. I think he died in the trunk and then we dumped him on Shoreline. The guy figured with Christmas Eve partying he'd get run over enough to hide what happened. I don't know who the guy was and I don't think I could identify him, except he had a T-shaped scar on both hands. That's all I know.” Still Josh didn't break down, but there were tears on his cheeks.
“We better go back to the station house,” Tim turned the car back toward Alameda.
Darren introduced Nicky to the office and then briefed Rory on progress at Stanford. Nicky stood out like a palm tree in Alaska. He looked handsome in a very expensive way, not at all like a programmer; his clothes were too coordinated. Although no one mentioned it, Darren knew he was in for a grilling the next day.
Nicky was complimentary. “Great bunch, Darren, and Rory seems like a dream-boss.”
“He is. He's unbelievable. At first I had a little crush on him; everybody does sooner or later.”
They headed east and as they moved through Oakland up into the hills everything got clean, orderly, and suburban. They stopped to pick up some food in Montclair and then drove to Redwood Park; they stopped near the Chabot Space and Science Center.
“Are we going here? I love science exhibits.” Nicky made it sound as if he really did.
“We can if you want. Later, though. First we have to see some things.”
They walked southeast and higher into the hills. The air was crisp and smelled of redwood and pine. Nicky stopped to pick up a pine cone. “Darren, look. This thing is beautiful. It's like a wooden flower. It's perfect.”
“Come on over here,” Darren called. At a break in the trees the vista opened suddenly and gave them a view to the east. “That's Mount Diablo. And right below us is Moraga, where my brother's friend Eric is from. And there to the north – it's a little hazy – is Orinda, where I'm from. And down there – you can barely see it - is Livermore, where they make atomic bombs, I think.”
Nicky laughed at the idea of atomic bombs coming from such a peaceful setting. He looked at Darren, who continued cheerfully pointing out other sights that must have been important to him in younger days. “I wish I had known you then,” he said.
“When?” Darren asked.
“When you lived in this valley. When you were a kid. When you were learning all this stuff. If you want to be precise, when you were eleven years old and fascinated with everything in the world.”
“That's about the nicest thing anybody ever said to me.” Darren wondered why Nicky had said it. A noisy group of school kids went crashing along the trail and the mood was broken. “Come on over here. See what a difference fifty feet makes.”
From the other side of the ridge San Francisco Bay spread out before them. “You can see the city, of course, and the Golden Gate. Which actually looks a little brown today. And the island right below us is Alameda where I live now. Over there is Marin County. That's Mount Tamalpais, on the road we took back from Point Reyes. And down this way, you can't see it, is San Jose. Right about there ...” Darren pointed to a smudge to the southwest. “... is Stanford where I'm working. And...”
Nicky took Darren's face in his hands. “Stop being so irresistible.” Nicky smiled; and Darren smiled back. “What about lunch? What did you buy in ...where? Montclair?”
“I got us some sandwiches.” Darren sat on the ground and opened a bag. He handed Nicky a paper bundle.
“This thing looks like a salad on bread.” Vegetation was falling out two sides of the sandwich onto Nicky's lap.
“There's tofu in there somewhere. Z recommended the sandwich place. If it's bad, you can tell him about it tonight.”
They hiked for miles along the ridge, enjoying the day and the view. By the time they got back to the Space and Science Center, it was too late to visit. “There you go,” Darren said. “Put the Chabot Center on your list. Another reason to come back.”
“All you have to do is ask.”
They drove back into the city in an amazingly short time and then once they got off the freeway things ground to a halt. They inched their way through the rush hour traffic and arrived at the hotel with little time to spare.
Morrie was effusive. “And what have my two handsome boys been up to while I worked like a dog to keep us all employed, hmmm?”
“We walked along the hills on the east side of the bay.”
Morrie didn't really listen to the answer; but, once he finished tying his tie, he kissed them both with unexpected passion and left for his business dinner. While Darren showered, Nicky packed all the bags and had them sent to the airport. He and Morrie had a red-eye east at ten-fifty. The show was planned to end at nine, the store closing time; so Nicky's timing would be close.
The show began at seven but the early crowd was modest. Andrew was fretting over the so-so turnout making Alex nervous for his first job. “Did you bring some Stanford guys up for the show?” Andrew asked.
“I told a couple guys about it, but that''s all.” Alex peeked out from the changing area. Heiko, Daegan, and Bradley Vroman, of all people, were sitting in the front row. Heiko was wearing a Stanford sweatshirt.
“Well at least your people showed up. Where the hell is Hugo?”
“I'm on the phone with him now. He's tits up with the flu,” Seth said, talking into the phone and to Andrew at once. “We'll have to go with three models.”
“We can't; there's not enough time to change with three. Alex, how big are you?”
“Five ten, a hundred fifty-five.”
“That would make Hugo about six feet and a hundred eighty. Do any of your friends fit those measurements? Well don't just stand there, go ask them?”
Alex returned with Bradley. “What do I do?” asked a willing but ignorant Brad.
“You're going out fourth. Watch the first three guys and do what they do.”
So Bradley made a few rounds of the cat walk before the crowd got big. By eight, the room was crowded and sales were moving swiftly. He hesitated when Andrew handed him a pair of board shorts and nothing else, but Andrew looked impatient. Bradley meekly headed out the curtain wearing the shorts. The shorts clung and the crowd got a nicer preview than Bradley realized of how well he was built. Then Alex went out wearing just a pair of gray boxer briefs and the crowd was quiet.
Half way around the circuit, the buy buttons began lighting up and, as Andrew had predicted, that model of underwear sold out. Alex paused in the last spotlight while the announcer spoke. “Alex, we sold every pair, including the ones you're wearing.” Alex stepped out of the spot, took the underwear off and threw it to the crowd. With a quick flash of the world's most perfect ass, he disappeared behind the curtain. Z modeled some conventional boxers in gay pride rainbow stripes, but they didn't sell well. Darren wore briefs in camouflage greens and they sold out before he was half way around the circuit. Again, at the final spotlight, his pair went to the crowd.
Bradley blanched when Seth handed him the thong. “You're shittin' me.”
“No guts, big upperclassman?” Alex taunted.
Bradley took the challenge but at the last minute needed a little push onto the walk. For the first quarter of the walk, he was tentative. Then his swagger took over. I can do this, he thought. At the halfway mark, the thong sold out, but Bradley didn't wait for the spotlight tease. He took the thong off and finished the last half of the walk naked. Photo flashes went off, a lot of photo flashes.
Backstage Andrew was chuckling and the Zara execs huddled in worried, urgent discussion. “Nice work,” Alex said. “I told you this stuff was easy. Want to bet you're on You Tube before we get back to Palo Alto?”
Bradley was wired from the adrenaline rush and was jumping up and down. “Whoa! How was that? What a feeling!”
Even Z was laughing. It was complete nudity; but it was like a jock goofing off in a locker room, not at all like porn. He handed Bradley a robe. “Before you get us all arrested.”
As soon as he was dressed, Darren drove Nicky to the airport. As they walked into the terminal Darren said, “You know, I think Morrie is getting tired of me. What am I supposed to do now, Nicky?”
Nicky looked him right in the eye and answered, “You could fall in love with me. I'm tired of being in this affair alone.”
Before Darren could react, Nicky mirrored Darren's open mouth surprise. Then he laughed, winked, and walked into the security line.
seanystarr
Slut
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a totally perfect chapter to start 2011 - thanks rory
im liking bradley already
im liking bradley already
Rory,
seannystar has summed it up well.
An interesting interview re: Ted's death,
a wonderful afternoon up in the hills,
and a HOT modeling job with an impromptu addition
to cover - what's the YouTube link?!
lol.
seannystar has summed it up well.
An interesting interview re: Ted's death,
a wonderful afternoon up in the hills,
and a HOT modeling job with an impromptu addition
to cover - what's the YouTube link?!
lol.
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Oops ... messed up this cut and paste.
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Session Sixty
“Amazing! And you get paid, too!” Daegan said, patting Alex on the butt when the show was over.
“Hands off the world's best ass!” Andrew cried out from twenty feet away. Little escaped his notice. He came up and put a protective arm around Alex. “Why don't all you guys work for me? Good pay, although the retirement plan sucks. Or is it the boss who sucks? I can never remember. You should check it out.”
“You're kidding, right?” Heiko challenged.
“Maybe, depends what you'd be willing to do.” Andrew raised the stakes but Heiko and Daegan ignored him.
Heiko and Daegan were ready to go back to school but Alex said he was going to hang around the store and see how the numbers were for the night. “I'll get a ride from somebody.”
“They brushed me off,” Andrew commented, always mystified by anyone who could refuse his blandishments, even when they weren't serious.
“They don't need money.”
“I'm guessing you don't either, Alex,” Andrew said.
“Can we see how the numbers went?” Alex changed to subject to one he was interested in.
The Zara guys ran the numbers and ranked the models on sales. Darren led, followed by Z. “But they're experienced pros,” Andrew observed. “They should do better.”
“Well, they did a lot better except for the underwear. We sold the most underwear when Alex modeled and we sold the fastest when the new guy got naked. I'm not sure where the lesson is in that. We can't have everybody naked; we're trying to sell clothes. The underwear margins are great, but the big dollars are in the higher ticket stuff.”
“What did I tell you, Señor Zarathustra? Alex can move the goods.” Andrew beamed at his model.
“What's interesting is the average ticket tonight was higher than it is for regular store sales. Maybe we should skew the show selection to higher ticket items,” the Zara guy said, missing Andrew's flattering Zarathustra reference.
“Does that mean I can work more shows?” Alex quietly asked Seth.
“Sounds good, Alex. Sounds good for you, too, Bradley – if you're interested.”
Alex looked at Bradley expectantly for his answer. “Sure. It was fun. Senior learns from Freshmen again,” he added for Alex's benefit.
With the numbers known, the models left. Darren had already left to take Nicky to the airport and Z left with Seth for Alameda. Bradley and Alex faced a long trip on public transportation back to school.
“You can stay at my place and go in the morning, if you want,” Andrew offered. There's some paperwork you need to fill out anyway, Bradley. It will save you a trip.
“Uh … yeah, but ...” Bradley temporized.
“If you want to get paid. Don't worry. I'm not going to molest that cute body.”
“Really, Bradley, you can trust Andrew. He's going to be your agent.” Alex's endorsement swayed Bradley and they were at Andrew's office in a half hour.
Once there, Andrew spend a half hour explaining paperwork for Bradley to complete and then they walked to a nearby bar for a late dinner. Alex was too young to drink but Bradley and Andrew had a couple of beers with their plate of barbecue.
Back at Andrew's, Bradley and Andrew had another beer and then Andrew said he was going to bed. “Make yourselves at home, guys.”
“Let's check You Tube,” Alex proposed. Sure enough several blurry and shaky versions of Bradley's nude half circuit were already posted. There was also very hot video of Alex's circuit, culminating in the baby spotlight on his ass.
“Well, that's not too outrageous. You can tell it's me, but there's not much in the way of details. I guess the parents will go along with the joke if they see it. But you! You looked amazing, Alex. Professional. Better than Abercrombie and Fitch.”
Bradley climbed into one of the twin beds and Alex decided on a quick shower. He came back into the room and was aware of Bradley staring. “Never seen a dick before?”
“Dicks, yeah; foreskins, no. I mean never up close.”
Alex skinned it back. “This better?” he asked. Bradley watched in amazement as Alex got into the other twin bed.
“Sorry for staring.”
“I'm a model. I'm used to people staring.” Alex turned out the light and lay back.
“I never knew the skin just slid back like that. That's all. I don't know what I thought. You always sleep nude?”
“No, but I didn't want to put used underwear back on. Also I use Crest toothpaste. Any more personal questions?” Alex's question treated Bradley's questions both as a joke and as intrusive.
“No, sorry. Night.” Once more the upperclassman who thought he was experienced was made to feel like a kid by the Freshmen. Damn, thought Bradley, I think his dick is bigger than mine, too, especially if you include the foreskin. I'd never have guessed. He looks like a kid in clothes.
“La Estancia Peralta is pleased to present you with a certificate for 100 kilos of prime beef, redeemable through any of the following stores ...” Z read from the letter Eric handed him when he got home. “Hand-written it says, 'Sorry this payment can't be cash yet. T.' Tony will come through eventually, Eric; and beef is better than nothing. There's a store in Milpitas.”
“Great, Z. Can you make a hundred pound roast beef? Will that junker of yours make it back from Milpitas with a hundred pounds in the back?”
“My mother has a freezer. We could put the beef in Orinda and visit it on Sundays.” Z looked through the rest of the mail. “Here's a letter for you.”
“Hmmm. It's from Tony's old lawyer, the one who turned the house over to me. Maybe he wants it back.” Eric opened the letter and began reading. His brows screwed up as he continued. “Fuckin' Luke is making jokes from the afterlife. In his will, he left me tuition for medical school – says I should be a doctor. But if I don't use it for that, I don't get it.”
“Luke never doubted you could do more. And now he's willing to pay you to take his advice. He was a wonderful friend, best in the world.”
“Really? A practical friend might have left me some cash,” Eric said. With the loan they made to Tony Peralta and diminished income from other sources, their finances were more pinched than they had been since that first modeling fee came in a few years back.
“Eric, we're doing ok. What's the problem? You never used to care about money.”
“That was when we had some. It's easy not to care about money when you're up to your ass in it.” He took Z in his arms. “I wanted to get you a new stove for Christmas.”
“I don't need a new stove. You're hot enough now, Doctor.”
“Z, don't start. Medical school is out of the question.”
“What if I start with these buttons? I always liked you in 501's.” Eric's Levi's came open very easily in Z's practiced hands, earning Z a kiss from his lover.
Larry's bedroom door was open; he couldn't help but overhear the discussion of his friends' financial concerns. He waited until he saw them close the door to their bedroom and then went downstairs. I don't know why they won't take more money from me, he thought. They make me feel like a parasite. He tucked all the cash he had into Z's change jar in the kitchen and then tiptoed back to his room. His phone buzzed and it was Cal calling.
“Cal, it must be the middle of the night in Cleveland. It's midnight here.”
“It is. I can't sleep for missing you, Larry. I'm not doing this again. We need to be together.”
“I hate your being miserable, but I'm glad it's because of me.”
“Christmas was so great. I want you in my bed. I want you next to me every night.”
“Salt Lake City in a week, Cal. Then I'm going to Minneapolis in two weeks. I can add a few days in Cleveland to that trip, ok? And then where do you go? Boise?”
“It's not good enough, Lar. It's not every night. I get in bed and I hurt 'cause you're not here.”
“I know. I'm half hard just listening to you.”
“What if I was there? What would you want me to do?”
“Hmmm. I'd like it if you would … just lie there for a minute and let me kiss your neck. You know that soft spot on the side? Yeah, right there. And then lay my head on your chest. I love the feel of your chest hair on my cheek. Then I could suck on your nipples. That's always fun, the way they tighten up and stick out. You'd start breathing heavier. Make me want to kiss you all over.”
“Oh, baby, I'm so hard for you. I couldn't just lie there. You know how I get when you do that.”
“Bet your ass I know. Why do you think I do it? 'Cause my Cal likes to fuck, huh? Then I'd offer you top or bottom; but I'd be hoping you'd pick top. Cause I love it when you force your knee slowly between my thighs, spread my legs apart, and make me wait dying to feel you cock in me. You know how much I want you? Want to feel you in me? Then I'd think about the way your cock swells a little bit more when you're ready to come. I love that part. You're fucking me and then you pause and I can feel you swell that little extra and then you pump ...”
“Shit, Lar. I just blew all over the bed. Wait a second....” Larry smiled and waited. He could hear the sounds of Cal wiping up and rearranging the bed. “Ok, I'm back... Wow! ... That's exactly what we're going to to in a week. Just what you said.” Cal sighed and then had another thought, “Unless you want to do something else, Larry. You know I like everything we do. I just want to see you smile.”
“Think you can sleep now?”
“Mmm. I love you, Larry. I can't wait 'til next week.”
As Larry shut down his phone for the night, he heard Darren park in front of the house. I hope he likes his new roommate, Larry thought.
Carolyn and a stranger greeted Darren when he came in. “I'm Monica Townsend, Eric Malone's mother,” the no-longer strange woman said. “Your new roommate.”
“Darren Alva.” Darren extended his hand. “Do you need any help moving in?”
“I'm settled, thanks. You look so much like your brother. That's lame. You must hear that all the time.”
“I do hear it now and then. Z and I were working together tonight.” Darren saw that Carolyn was knocking back her usual brandy, but Monica appeared to be drinking tea. “We worked until nine and then I drove somebody to SFO. I don't want to be rude, but it's been a day. Do you mind if I go to bed?
Darren was glad that the women cheerfully shooed him off to bed. It had been a long day. He got into bed ready for sleep and then tossed and turned thinking of Nicky. I could fall in love with him; that's what he suggested. Was he serious? What would Morrie say? Could I actually fall in love with him? … We always have fun together. He is cute. No, wait, he's more than cute. He's hot .... He up and tells me I should fall in love with him. He's tired of being in this affair alone. What affair? Could I fall in love with him? … I like it when he kisses me even though it's almost always on the cheek; I can still feel his lips on me after it's over. Like I can still feel his hand in mine after he greets me .... He is hot … Very hot ... Was he implying that he loves me? I'm not all tingly from thinking about him, but maybe everything doesn't have to start out all tingly.
Darren yawned, getting no where with his thinking.
Let's go at this another way, he told himself. If I just met him – no Morrie, no job connection - would I have sex with him? Oh, yeah, I would; he IS hot. Nice body ... And he wants me to love him. Wants me to or just thinks I could, for the hell of it? ... I've slept in the same bed with him and don't really know much more than his name. He can't be much older than I am. And he looks much younger when he's not wearing a suit. Like today. He looked really good today … Rory and Tom and Bernice liked his looks – that was obvious.
Another yawn.
But I can never figure out what Cyril's thinking. It would definitely piss off Morrie. Would he fire Nicky? Darren closed his eyes and he remembered the feel of Nicky's arm on his shoulders. He is hot ... Love's messy ... It would surprise the hell out of Morrie … Darren fell asleep with a smile on his face.
Josh lay down on a hard bed in the Alameda jail, alone in his cell. He was glad he had confessed. He needed to dump the burden of Ted Dorrance. I would have loved him, if he'd just given it a chance. Tim said he could post bail the next day and be out by noon. He waited for peace.
Then he learned there isn't much peace in a jail. A drunk began screaming his innocence at the police. A crazy began screaming curses at the moon. Two guys began screaming at each other over a botched robbery. Josh thought he could learn to live with that. And then the door slid open and his roommate arrived.
“You're in my bed,” the huge mass of illegible tattoos bellowed. “What are you in for?”
“Murder. You want to be next?” Josh decided to fight it out right at the start.
“Amazing! And you get paid, too!” Daegan said, patting Alex on the butt when the show was over.
“Hands off the world's best ass!” Andrew cried out from twenty feet away. Little escaped his notice. He came up and put a protective arm around Alex. “Why don't all you guys work for me? Good pay, although the retirement plan sucks. Or is it the boss who sucks? I can never remember. You should check it out.”
“You're kidding, right?” Heiko challenged.
“Maybe, depends what you'd be willing to do.” Andrew raised the stakes but Heiko and Daegan ignored him.
Heiko and Daegan were ready to go back to school but Alex said he was going to hang around the store and see how the numbers were for the night. “I'll get a ride from somebody.”
“They brushed me off,” Andrew commented, always mystified by anyone who could refuse his blandishments, even when they weren't serious.
“They don't need money.”
“I'm guessing you don't either, Alex,” Andrew said.
“Can we see how the numbers went?” Alex changed to subject to one he was interested in.
The Zara guys ran the numbers and ranked the models on sales. Darren led, followed by Z. “But they're experienced pros,” Andrew observed. “They should do better.”
“Well, they did a lot better except for the underwear. We sold the most underwear when Alex modeled and we sold the fastest when the new guy got naked. I'm not sure where the lesson is in that. We can't have everybody naked; we're trying to sell clothes. The underwear margins are great, but the big dollars are in the higher ticket stuff.”
“What did I tell you, Señor Zarathustra? Alex can move the goods.” Andrew beamed at his model.
“What's interesting is the average ticket tonight was higher than it is for regular store sales. Maybe we should skew the show selection to higher ticket items,” the Zara guy said, missing Andrew's flattering Zarathustra reference.
“Does that mean I can work more shows?” Alex quietly asked Seth.
“Sounds good, Alex. Sounds good for you, too, Bradley – if you're interested.”
Alex looked at Bradley expectantly for his answer. “Sure. It was fun. Senior learns from Freshmen again,” he added for Alex's benefit.
With the numbers known, the models left. Darren had already left to take Nicky to the airport and Z left with Seth for Alameda. Bradley and Alex faced a long trip on public transportation back to school.
“You can stay at my place and go in the morning, if you want,” Andrew offered. There's some paperwork you need to fill out anyway, Bradley. It will save you a trip.
“Uh … yeah, but ...” Bradley temporized.
“If you want to get paid. Don't worry. I'm not going to molest that cute body.”
“Really, Bradley, you can trust Andrew. He's going to be your agent.” Alex's endorsement swayed Bradley and they were at Andrew's office in a half hour.
Once there, Andrew spend a half hour explaining paperwork for Bradley to complete and then they walked to a nearby bar for a late dinner. Alex was too young to drink but Bradley and Andrew had a couple of beers with their plate of barbecue.
Back at Andrew's, Bradley and Andrew had another beer and then Andrew said he was going to bed. “Make yourselves at home, guys.”
“Let's check You Tube,” Alex proposed. Sure enough several blurry and shaky versions of Bradley's nude half circuit were already posted. There was also very hot video of Alex's circuit, culminating in the baby spotlight on his ass.
“Well, that's not too outrageous. You can tell it's me, but there's not much in the way of details. I guess the parents will go along with the joke if they see it. But you! You looked amazing, Alex. Professional. Better than Abercrombie and Fitch.”
Bradley climbed into one of the twin beds and Alex decided on a quick shower. He came back into the room and was aware of Bradley staring. “Never seen a dick before?”
“Dicks, yeah; foreskins, no. I mean never up close.”
Alex skinned it back. “This better?” he asked. Bradley watched in amazement as Alex got into the other twin bed.
“Sorry for staring.”
“I'm a model. I'm used to people staring.” Alex turned out the light and lay back.
“I never knew the skin just slid back like that. That's all. I don't know what I thought. You always sleep nude?”
“No, but I didn't want to put used underwear back on. Also I use Crest toothpaste. Any more personal questions?” Alex's question treated Bradley's questions both as a joke and as intrusive.
“No, sorry. Night.” Once more the upperclassman who thought he was experienced was made to feel like a kid by the Freshmen. Damn, thought Bradley, I think his dick is bigger than mine, too, especially if you include the foreskin. I'd never have guessed. He looks like a kid in clothes.
“La Estancia Peralta is pleased to present you with a certificate for 100 kilos of prime beef, redeemable through any of the following stores ...” Z read from the letter Eric handed him when he got home. “Hand-written it says, 'Sorry this payment can't be cash yet. T.' Tony will come through eventually, Eric; and beef is better than nothing. There's a store in Milpitas.”
“Great, Z. Can you make a hundred pound roast beef? Will that junker of yours make it back from Milpitas with a hundred pounds in the back?”
“My mother has a freezer. We could put the beef in Orinda and visit it on Sundays.” Z looked through the rest of the mail. “Here's a letter for you.”
“Hmmm. It's from Tony's old lawyer, the one who turned the house over to me. Maybe he wants it back.” Eric opened the letter and began reading. His brows screwed up as he continued. “Fuckin' Luke is making jokes from the afterlife. In his will, he left me tuition for medical school – says I should be a doctor. But if I don't use it for that, I don't get it.”
“Luke never doubted you could do more. And now he's willing to pay you to take his advice. He was a wonderful friend, best in the world.”
“Really? A practical friend might have left me some cash,” Eric said. With the loan they made to Tony Peralta and diminished income from other sources, their finances were more pinched than they had been since that first modeling fee came in a few years back.
“Eric, we're doing ok. What's the problem? You never used to care about money.”
“That was when we had some. It's easy not to care about money when you're up to your ass in it.” He took Z in his arms. “I wanted to get you a new stove for Christmas.”
“I don't need a new stove. You're hot enough now, Doctor.”
“Z, don't start. Medical school is out of the question.”
“What if I start with these buttons? I always liked you in 501's.” Eric's Levi's came open very easily in Z's practiced hands, earning Z a kiss from his lover.
Larry's bedroom door was open; he couldn't help but overhear the discussion of his friends' financial concerns. He waited until he saw them close the door to their bedroom and then went downstairs. I don't know why they won't take more money from me, he thought. They make me feel like a parasite. He tucked all the cash he had into Z's change jar in the kitchen and then tiptoed back to his room. His phone buzzed and it was Cal calling.
“Cal, it must be the middle of the night in Cleveland. It's midnight here.”
“It is. I can't sleep for missing you, Larry. I'm not doing this again. We need to be together.”
“I hate your being miserable, but I'm glad it's because of me.”
“Christmas was so great. I want you in my bed. I want you next to me every night.”
“Salt Lake City in a week, Cal. Then I'm going to Minneapolis in two weeks. I can add a few days in Cleveland to that trip, ok? And then where do you go? Boise?”
“It's not good enough, Lar. It's not every night. I get in bed and I hurt 'cause you're not here.”
“I know. I'm half hard just listening to you.”
“What if I was there? What would you want me to do?”
“Hmmm. I'd like it if you would … just lie there for a minute and let me kiss your neck. You know that soft spot on the side? Yeah, right there. And then lay my head on your chest. I love the feel of your chest hair on my cheek. Then I could suck on your nipples. That's always fun, the way they tighten up and stick out. You'd start breathing heavier. Make me want to kiss you all over.”
“Oh, baby, I'm so hard for you. I couldn't just lie there. You know how I get when you do that.”
“Bet your ass I know. Why do you think I do it? 'Cause my Cal likes to fuck, huh? Then I'd offer you top or bottom; but I'd be hoping you'd pick top. Cause I love it when you force your knee slowly between my thighs, spread my legs apart, and make me wait dying to feel you cock in me. You know how much I want you? Want to feel you in me? Then I'd think about the way your cock swells a little bit more when you're ready to come. I love that part. You're fucking me and then you pause and I can feel you swell that little extra and then you pump ...”
“Shit, Lar. I just blew all over the bed. Wait a second....” Larry smiled and waited. He could hear the sounds of Cal wiping up and rearranging the bed. “Ok, I'm back... Wow! ... That's exactly what we're going to to in a week. Just what you said.” Cal sighed and then had another thought, “Unless you want to do something else, Larry. You know I like everything we do. I just want to see you smile.”
“Think you can sleep now?”
“Mmm. I love you, Larry. I can't wait 'til next week.”
As Larry shut down his phone for the night, he heard Darren park in front of the house. I hope he likes his new roommate, Larry thought.
Carolyn and a stranger greeted Darren when he came in. “I'm Monica Townsend, Eric Malone's mother,” the no-longer strange woman said. “Your new roommate.”
“Darren Alva.” Darren extended his hand. “Do you need any help moving in?”
“I'm settled, thanks. You look so much like your brother. That's lame. You must hear that all the time.”
“I do hear it now and then. Z and I were working together tonight.” Darren saw that Carolyn was knocking back her usual brandy, but Monica appeared to be drinking tea. “We worked until nine and then I drove somebody to SFO. I don't want to be rude, but it's been a day. Do you mind if I go to bed?
Darren was glad that the women cheerfully shooed him off to bed. It had been a long day. He got into bed ready for sleep and then tossed and turned thinking of Nicky. I could fall in love with him; that's what he suggested. Was he serious? What would Morrie say? Could I actually fall in love with him? … We always have fun together. He is cute. No, wait, he's more than cute. He's hot .... He up and tells me I should fall in love with him. He's tired of being in this affair alone. What affair? Could I fall in love with him? … I like it when he kisses me even though it's almost always on the cheek; I can still feel his lips on me after it's over. Like I can still feel his hand in mine after he greets me .... He is hot … Very hot ... Was he implying that he loves me? I'm not all tingly from thinking about him, but maybe everything doesn't have to start out all tingly.
Darren yawned, getting no where with his thinking.
Let's go at this another way, he told himself. If I just met him – no Morrie, no job connection - would I have sex with him? Oh, yeah, I would; he IS hot. Nice body ... And he wants me to love him. Wants me to or just thinks I could, for the hell of it? ... I've slept in the same bed with him and don't really know much more than his name. He can't be much older than I am. And he looks much younger when he's not wearing a suit. Like today. He looked really good today … Rory and Tom and Bernice liked his looks – that was obvious.
Another yawn.
But I can never figure out what Cyril's thinking. It would definitely piss off Morrie. Would he fire Nicky? Darren closed his eyes and he remembered the feel of Nicky's arm on his shoulders. He is hot ... Love's messy ... It would surprise the hell out of Morrie … Darren fell asleep with a smile on his face.
Josh lay down on a hard bed in the Alameda jail, alone in his cell. He was glad he had confessed. He needed to dump the burden of Ted Dorrance. I would have loved him, if he'd just given it a chance. Tim said he could post bail the next day and be out by noon. He waited for peace.
Then he learned there isn't much peace in a jail. A drunk began screaming his innocence at the police. A crazy began screaming curses at the moon. Two guys began screaming at each other over a botched robbery. Josh thought he could learn to live with that. And then the door slid open and his roommate arrived.
“You're in my bed,” the huge mass of illegible tattoos bellowed. “What are you in for?”
“Murder. You want to be next?” Josh decided to fight it out right at the start.
Rory,
I feel like I just finished reading a chapter - oh, I did! lol
The after sale results tally - with the Spanish contingent happy at the results, and looking to upscale the offerings even more.
A few youtube vid's - suitably out of focus, but great for reminding people of the hot town in the old town tonight.
Everyone seems tuckered out tonight - except Cal and Larry, lol.
And, what a wonderful way to bring Luke back into the story for us. Will Eric take the plunge and start in med school? Can he go part time? Luke, wonderful Luke, but now he's not around to be able to gently steer Eric the right direction, so he has to dangle the carrot very firmly. Just DO It, Eric.
And, Eric's mama is officially next door to her baby boy. Here's hoping she can get well and thoroughly over herself and her Country Club needs, so she and Eric & Z! can (re-)build their relationships with each other.
Thanks for the installments, Rory.
I feel like I just finished reading a chapter - oh, I did! lol
The after sale results tally - with the Spanish contingent happy at the results, and looking to upscale the offerings even more.
A few youtube vid's - suitably out of focus, but great for reminding people of the hot town in the old town tonight.
Everyone seems tuckered out tonight - except Cal and Larry, lol.
And, what a wonderful way to bring Luke back into the story for us. Will Eric take the plunge and start in med school? Can he go part time? Luke, wonderful Luke, but now he's not around to be able to gently steer Eric the right direction, so he has to dangle the carrot very firmly. Just DO It, Eric.
And, Eric's mama is officially next door to her baby boy. Here's hoping she can get well and thoroughly over herself and her Country Club needs, so she and Eric & Z! can (re-)build their relationships with each other.
Thanks for the installments, Rory.
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Session Sixty-One
Andrew had a little spread set up for breakfast, juice, pastry, toast, and tea. “My roommates like coffee, but tea is so easy,” he said. “Help yourselves.” Alex and Bradley both dove in.
“Um, Alex … Chris needs some extra shots to fill in. He tried to shrink the scale and lost too much detail. I know it's out of the way, but I'll give you a ride back to school. Can you do that today?”
“What about Bradley? How's he supposed to get back to school?”
“You want to come along, Bradley? It shouldn't take more than an hour or two.” Andrew made it sound very off-hand.
Forty five minutes later they were in Chris's studio. Chris showed Alex the problem shots and Alex shrugged and stripped. He put a robe on while Chris set up.
“Bradley, I was just looking at the skin tones around your eyes. You have amazing color, it would be fun to shoot. I could make your face completely different just with a diffuser, I bet. Ok, Alex, drop the robe and face to the right looking at the window.”
“Do you want me gone?” Bradley asked.
“I don't care. Alex? Any problem?” Chris asked and continued to shoot after Alex shrugged. After several shots Chris said, “Brad, wrap that black drape around your shoulders and stand by the chair, would you? Look directly into the camera. Alex stand about six feet behind him and give me a left profile. Ok, framing … good. Alex move about four feet closer and look over Brad's shoulder at the green spot on the floor. Pensive. Good. Now with sound ...” There was a sharp bang and Bradley jumped. “Got it.”
“What was that about?”
“I needed you to look astonished. Ok, you up for doing some more?” Bradley nodded and Chris continued, “Good. The contrast is going look dramatic. Take your clothes off please.”
Bradley looked very uncertain. “Am I getting paid for this?”
“Did you sign the contract with Andrew? Then you're getting paid.”
Andrew came in with some bottles of flavored water. “Hey, good. I wondered if you'd want to get into this. Break time, Chris.” Andrew distributed the water. “Some of the poses may be unnerving Bradley, but Chris edits the shots. They don't come out looking like what you think. Here's Alex's folio.” Andrew paged through the folio which displayed Alex in a variety of clothing and poses. The nudes were very tasteful and minimally revealing.”
Chris, why did you want me erect for this shot if you weren't going to show it,” Alex asked.
“For the expression on your face. You knew you were hard and it showed in your expression. I couldn't get that look any other way. This other shot where Gareth is watching you, almost stalking you, you wouldn't have looked so vulnerable if you weren't hard. Nothing shows except this shadow. No skin. See what I'm trying for? Do you see it Bradley?”
“I … I guess. It makes sense. Am I going to have to get hard?”
“I don't think so. Not today. Ok, done with the water? Piss call anybody?” Chris went back to the camera. “Ok, let's resume.”
Chris was critical of Bradley poses. Nothing was right. “You're rigid. Loosen up. Stand closer to Alex. He's not going to bite.” Finally the artist threw up his hands. “I tell Andrew no more amateur models and what do I get. “Alex, remember the talk Gareth gave you about relaxing? Can you try it on Brad?”
Alex took Bradley into the auto-camera room and they sat on the turntable.. “Ok, this worked for me. Maybe it'll work for you. Finish your water and drop the robe. Ok … Now hug me.”
“Dude, we're naked! Whoa!” Bradley about jumped off the ground when Alex pulled him into a bear hug. Alex told Bradley to keep hugging til the embarrassment was over. He didn't listen to any complaints. “I know your dick is against my leg. I can feel it. So what. Just get over it. Ok, keep breathing, you're gonna pass out if you hold your breath. Feel it. Feel me breathe. Feel my hands on you and yours on me. It's not personal. It's just skin.”
Bradley gasped and then gradually his breathing steadied. “Now I'm feeling a little dizzy. Good, though. I'm taking deep breaths … relaxing. What's this?”
Alex giggled, “My dick. What did you think?”
“Oh my God, I touched you. I'm sorry. I didn't mean ...”
“Bradley, it doesn't matter. We need to be able to touch each other without making a big deal out of it every time.”
“What if I get hard?”
“What if you do? It happens; we deal with it. If you have a real problem Andrew claims he has a dick killer that will eliminate the problem.”
“Dick killer! I'm outta here.”
“Easy. Put your hands around my waist. It just keeps you from getting an erection for an hour or so. It wears off, he says. That's right. Feel around. Get to know my body. Ha-ha, see no harm.” Alex laughed when Bradley squeezed his butt and he squeezed him back.
“Alex, I'm feeling seriously dizzy. I want to sit down.”
Alex pulled back. “Open your eyes.” He smiled and Bradley smiled back. “Blue eyes. Dark blue. I never noticed before. You still want to sit down?”
“I'm feeling steadier with my eyes open. How did you get so good about this stuff?” Bradley's hold was becoming much more relaxed and comfortable.
“I went through it all myself. I know exactly what you're feeling. Learning to have confidence in whoever I'm working with. All about helping each other. Just the way we are now. Ok, put your arms around my neck and I'll shift to your waist. See it's getting easy.”
“I'm still a little up tight about some of this. But you're right. You're right about a lot of things. Pretty amazing.” Bradley looked steadily at Alex, taking him in as a person. “If I'm doing porn, I'm glad it's with you.”
Alex thought for a minute that Bradley was going to kiss him. That would shred the comfort zone. Instead he just hugged Alex a little tighter and whispered, “It's starting to feel good.”
“Ok, now for the body survey. If your body wasn't near perfect, Andrew wouldn't have hired you, so don't worry about any flaws. You look great … turn around … I think my ass has some competition.”
“I … I'm still not used to your foreskin.” Bradley looked at Alex's dick like he was a snake charmer; he was fascinated.
“Ok, relax. Here, finish the water.” they sat side by side and drained the last of the bottles.
Andrew stuck his head in to see how they were doing. “Good, you're getting along. I put just a little MDMA into the water to kind of break the ice for you.”
“Now you tell us,” Alex groaned.
At work that morning Bernice was the first to bring it up. “That was a seriously fabulous guy, Darren. Very professional looking.”
“He's my other boss's assistant.”
“One of those personal assistants that's like a slave?” Cyril asked.
“No, more professional than that. Nicky manages the boss's schedule, travel, living arrangements, hotels, meals, luggage. They travel almost constantly. I guess he does errands, but he's much more capable.”
“Wish I had one of those.” Rory was making a pot of coffee.
“I'm the new guy; I guess I should make the coffee; but you Cyril and Bernice are the ones who drink it all,” Jerry said.
“We have a flat organization here. Everybody does everything. Tom, Darren, you ready to go see the professor? We'll meet Heiko at the Center. He's done lots of the work, make sure he gets lots of the credit.”
On the drive to Stanford, Rory went over the demo they were going to present to the curators. Everything seemed ready, but there were always surprises. “The Q&A session will always be the hardest part. It's unpredictable,” Rory warned. And true to predictions, it was.
The demo work flawlessly, impressive in its accuracy, speed, and tolerance of minor query errors. The Q&A started just as well. Then when von Allmen asked what happened if the query produced an empty set. VonAllmen borrowed Gabriel Kristen's laptop and handed it to Tom. “Use Gabriel's data base, it's probably full of errors.” Amid general laughter, Gabriel wasn't laughing.
Tom stepped onto a little platform and plugged the laptop into the digital projector and entered 'Sculptural masterpiece, Swiss, 1900 or later'. That produced the response 'Nothing in collection', which was the expected answer but there was a box marked 'Preferred acquisitions'. Tom explained, “If the curator wants to create a wish list to prioritize future accessions it is possible. Wouldn't a Giacometti be nice?” Tom joked. “But we haven't loaded any data.”
He clicked the box expecting an empty template. Instead he got a picture of Heiko, with some personal statistics listed. “7 and thick” was the data element that most people remembered, when the incident was discussed later. In the initial picture, Heiko was conventionally handsome, looking at the camera with a teasing smile. It was after Tom tried to clear the screen that the semi-nudes appeared of Heiko in athletic clothes, in board shorts, and adjusting the contents of his jock. The pictures weren't explicit; but the nature of the photographer's interest in Heiko was unmistakeable.
Heiko's face reddened, but otherwise he sat waiting for Tom to get the pictures off the screen. Gabriel, however, leapt to his feet and attempted to push Tom out of the way to unplug the laptop. Tom, protective of his equipment, held onto the projector and sidestepped the rushing Gabriel, who tripped on the lip of the platform and grabbed at empty space as he fell.
Gabriel got himself up and attempted to apologize to Heiko, which only made things worse. Heiko decked him with a right to the jaw. Von Allmen had an assistant get Gabriel out of the room and then, flustered, offered his own apologies to “Herr Wittelsbach.”
A member of the Cantor family which had endowed the Center was heard to remark to a professor named Kahn, “Good for von Allmen. Historically, in times like this, you don't want a lot of angry Germans.”
“We're screwed,” Rory told the team afterwards. “It's not your fault, Heiko; but we're screwed.”
Alex and Bradley slept for the whole two and a half hour drive back to Palo Alto. Andrew stopped on El Camino Real and woke them. They got out of the car a little unsteadily. Andrew promised a check would be in the mail.
For a while they walked in silence. “Alex...” Bradley said stalling. “Alex, I sucked your dick,” he stated as they walked onto the campus.
“Don't make a big deal out of it, Bradley. It was just the Ecstasy.”
“Dude, it is a big deal. Dicksucking is a huge deal.”
“I remember. I was there.”
“Do you remember everything we did?”
“It was the drug. Don't think about it. My fault. I shouldn't have let you do it.”
“But … the thing is ...”
“It was the drug, Bradley. You wouldn't have done it otherwise.”
“Did you like it?”
“Are you serious? Why are you asking that?”
“Because I liked it. You taste amazing. Did you like it?” Bradley persisted.
“I guess, I shot a load.”
“In my mouth.”
“I'm really sorry about that. I didn't feel myself coming until it was too late.” Alex looked at Bradley to see how he was taking things; he seemed actually ok with their morning session. “You were good.”
“Good at what? Are you afraid of the C-word? Cocksucker. Three syllables … ten letters. And then there was the other stuff.”
“The other stuff wasn't real. We were just posing for pictures. No sex. All fake.”
“The kisses were real. The erections were real.”
“I'm sorry I got you into this. You have to distance yourself from some of the porn aspects.”
“I can distance myself from the porn, Alex. That's the easy part. How am I supposed to distance myself from you?”
“I don't get what you mean.”
“My head's full of you. I liked what we did. I think I love you.”
“That's impossible. It's just the drug. Wait 'til tomorrow; you'll forget all about it.”
“Forget? I sucked your dick. I spent about an hour kissing you. I came rubbing my cock on yours. And I loved it. I was sorry we faked the fuck. I would have let it happen.”
“We both need sleep. We can work this out tomorrow.”
They got to Bradley's apartment cluster. “Come in a second. I'll give you your philosophy paper back.” One they were inside, Bradley asked, “Did you feel anything? Are you really sorry it happened?”
“Of course, I felt something. I've always liked you ... you know ... admired you, I guess I should say.”
“Maybe you're right. Maybe it was just the drugs. Let's just try it. Kiss me one more time.”
“No point to it, Bradley.”
“Stay with me, Alex? I have a single room.”
“Tomorrow, Bradley. Tomorrow, we'll figure this out.” Alex took his marked up paper and left.
Josh woke in the lower bunk and waited for breakfast. He cellmate's name was Marvin and after he fucked him he had to listen to Marvin's story.
Everything in Marvin's life was a mess and, according to Marvin, it was totally somebody else's fault. He never intended to rob the liquor store, the idiot who was running it left the cash drawer open. He never intended to shoot him, the idiot dropped his gun and shot himself. He never meant to resist arrest, the accelerator stuck on his truck. He never planned to violate parole, his girl friend forced him to. The other arrest, he was framed. Before that he didn't much remember, but his mother was always giving him trouble over every little thing.
“I'm not gay, you know. I'm not gay,” Marvin assured Josh. “But go along and get along, that's my motto. Prison's for a long time.” Marvin paused. “I appreciate it that you didn't want any more than a fuck. I can't do cocksuckin' for shit. That was how I got this tattoo.” He held his upper lip back. It said “Sucks.” Then he pulled his lower lip down and it said “In a bad way.”
“I'm hoping to get Mule Creek. It's nice there. For a prison. You, though … murderers get San Quentin.”
Breakfast shut Marvin up for a while. Then Josh was escorted to an interrogation room. He brightened when he saw Tim waiting for him. And then got the bad news. “There's going to be a delay in your bail...”
Andrew had a little spread set up for breakfast, juice, pastry, toast, and tea. “My roommates like coffee, but tea is so easy,” he said. “Help yourselves.” Alex and Bradley both dove in.
“Um, Alex … Chris needs some extra shots to fill in. He tried to shrink the scale and lost too much detail. I know it's out of the way, but I'll give you a ride back to school. Can you do that today?”
“What about Bradley? How's he supposed to get back to school?”
“You want to come along, Bradley? It shouldn't take more than an hour or two.” Andrew made it sound very off-hand.
Forty five minutes later they were in Chris's studio. Chris showed Alex the problem shots and Alex shrugged and stripped. He put a robe on while Chris set up.
“Bradley, I was just looking at the skin tones around your eyes. You have amazing color, it would be fun to shoot. I could make your face completely different just with a diffuser, I bet. Ok, Alex, drop the robe and face to the right looking at the window.”
“Do you want me gone?” Bradley asked.
“I don't care. Alex? Any problem?” Chris asked and continued to shoot after Alex shrugged. After several shots Chris said, “Brad, wrap that black drape around your shoulders and stand by the chair, would you? Look directly into the camera. Alex stand about six feet behind him and give me a left profile. Ok, framing … good. Alex move about four feet closer and look over Brad's shoulder at the green spot on the floor. Pensive. Good. Now with sound ...” There was a sharp bang and Bradley jumped. “Got it.”
“What was that about?”
“I needed you to look astonished. Ok, you up for doing some more?” Bradley nodded and Chris continued, “Good. The contrast is going look dramatic. Take your clothes off please.”
Bradley looked very uncertain. “Am I getting paid for this?”
“Did you sign the contract with Andrew? Then you're getting paid.”
Andrew came in with some bottles of flavored water. “Hey, good. I wondered if you'd want to get into this. Break time, Chris.” Andrew distributed the water. “Some of the poses may be unnerving Bradley, but Chris edits the shots. They don't come out looking like what you think. Here's Alex's folio.” Andrew paged through the folio which displayed Alex in a variety of clothing and poses. The nudes were very tasteful and minimally revealing.”
Chris, why did you want me erect for this shot if you weren't going to show it,” Alex asked.
“For the expression on your face. You knew you were hard and it showed in your expression. I couldn't get that look any other way. This other shot where Gareth is watching you, almost stalking you, you wouldn't have looked so vulnerable if you weren't hard. Nothing shows except this shadow. No skin. See what I'm trying for? Do you see it Bradley?”
“I … I guess. It makes sense. Am I going to have to get hard?”
“I don't think so. Not today. Ok, done with the water? Piss call anybody?” Chris went back to the camera. “Ok, let's resume.”
Chris was critical of Bradley poses. Nothing was right. “You're rigid. Loosen up. Stand closer to Alex. He's not going to bite.” Finally the artist threw up his hands. “I tell Andrew no more amateur models and what do I get. “Alex, remember the talk Gareth gave you about relaxing? Can you try it on Brad?”
Alex took Bradley into the auto-camera room and they sat on the turntable.. “Ok, this worked for me. Maybe it'll work for you. Finish your water and drop the robe. Ok … Now hug me.”
“Dude, we're naked! Whoa!” Bradley about jumped off the ground when Alex pulled him into a bear hug. Alex told Bradley to keep hugging til the embarrassment was over. He didn't listen to any complaints. “I know your dick is against my leg. I can feel it. So what. Just get over it. Ok, keep breathing, you're gonna pass out if you hold your breath. Feel it. Feel me breathe. Feel my hands on you and yours on me. It's not personal. It's just skin.”
Bradley gasped and then gradually his breathing steadied. “Now I'm feeling a little dizzy. Good, though. I'm taking deep breaths … relaxing. What's this?”
Alex giggled, “My dick. What did you think?”
“Oh my God, I touched you. I'm sorry. I didn't mean ...”
“Bradley, it doesn't matter. We need to be able to touch each other without making a big deal out of it every time.”
“What if I get hard?”
“What if you do? It happens; we deal with it. If you have a real problem Andrew claims he has a dick killer that will eliminate the problem.”
“Dick killer! I'm outta here.”
“Easy. Put your hands around my waist. It just keeps you from getting an erection for an hour or so. It wears off, he says. That's right. Feel around. Get to know my body. Ha-ha, see no harm.” Alex laughed when Bradley squeezed his butt and he squeezed him back.
“Alex, I'm feeling seriously dizzy. I want to sit down.”
Alex pulled back. “Open your eyes.” He smiled and Bradley smiled back. “Blue eyes. Dark blue. I never noticed before. You still want to sit down?”
“I'm feeling steadier with my eyes open. How did you get so good about this stuff?” Bradley's hold was becoming much more relaxed and comfortable.
“I went through it all myself. I know exactly what you're feeling. Learning to have confidence in whoever I'm working with. All about helping each other. Just the way we are now. Ok, put your arms around my neck and I'll shift to your waist. See it's getting easy.”
“I'm still a little up tight about some of this. But you're right. You're right about a lot of things. Pretty amazing.” Bradley looked steadily at Alex, taking him in as a person. “If I'm doing porn, I'm glad it's with you.”
Alex thought for a minute that Bradley was going to kiss him. That would shred the comfort zone. Instead he just hugged Alex a little tighter and whispered, “It's starting to feel good.”
“Ok, now for the body survey. If your body wasn't near perfect, Andrew wouldn't have hired you, so don't worry about any flaws. You look great … turn around … I think my ass has some competition.”
“I … I'm still not used to your foreskin.” Bradley looked at Alex's dick like he was a snake charmer; he was fascinated.
“Ok, relax. Here, finish the water.” they sat side by side and drained the last of the bottles.
Andrew stuck his head in to see how they were doing. “Good, you're getting along. I put just a little MDMA into the water to kind of break the ice for you.”
“Now you tell us,” Alex groaned.
At work that morning Bernice was the first to bring it up. “That was a seriously fabulous guy, Darren. Very professional looking.”
“He's my other boss's assistant.”
“One of those personal assistants that's like a slave?” Cyril asked.
“No, more professional than that. Nicky manages the boss's schedule, travel, living arrangements, hotels, meals, luggage. They travel almost constantly. I guess he does errands, but he's much more capable.”
“Wish I had one of those.” Rory was making a pot of coffee.
“I'm the new guy; I guess I should make the coffee; but you Cyril and Bernice are the ones who drink it all,” Jerry said.
“We have a flat organization here. Everybody does everything. Tom, Darren, you ready to go see the professor? We'll meet Heiko at the Center. He's done lots of the work, make sure he gets lots of the credit.”
On the drive to Stanford, Rory went over the demo they were going to present to the curators. Everything seemed ready, but there were always surprises. “The Q&A session will always be the hardest part. It's unpredictable,” Rory warned. And true to predictions, it was.
The demo work flawlessly, impressive in its accuracy, speed, and tolerance of minor query errors. The Q&A started just as well. Then when von Allmen asked what happened if the query produced an empty set. VonAllmen borrowed Gabriel Kristen's laptop and handed it to Tom. “Use Gabriel's data base, it's probably full of errors.” Amid general laughter, Gabriel wasn't laughing.
Tom stepped onto a little platform and plugged the laptop into the digital projector and entered 'Sculptural masterpiece, Swiss, 1900 or later'. That produced the response 'Nothing in collection', which was the expected answer but there was a box marked 'Preferred acquisitions'. Tom explained, “If the curator wants to create a wish list to prioritize future accessions it is possible. Wouldn't a Giacometti be nice?” Tom joked. “But we haven't loaded any data.”
He clicked the box expecting an empty template. Instead he got a picture of Heiko, with some personal statistics listed. “7 and thick” was the data element that most people remembered, when the incident was discussed later. In the initial picture, Heiko was conventionally handsome, looking at the camera with a teasing smile. It was after Tom tried to clear the screen that the semi-nudes appeared of Heiko in athletic clothes, in board shorts, and adjusting the contents of his jock. The pictures weren't explicit; but the nature of the photographer's interest in Heiko was unmistakeable.
Heiko's face reddened, but otherwise he sat waiting for Tom to get the pictures off the screen. Gabriel, however, leapt to his feet and attempted to push Tom out of the way to unplug the laptop. Tom, protective of his equipment, held onto the projector and sidestepped the rushing Gabriel, who tripped on the lip of the platform and grabbed at empty space as he fell.
Gabriel got himself up and attempted to apologize to Heiko, which only made things worse. Heiko decked him with a right to the jaw. Von Allmen had an assistant get Gabriel out of the room and then, flustered, offered his own apologies to “Herr Wittelsbach.”
A member of the Cantor family which had endowed the Center was heard to remark to a professor named Kahn, “Good for von Allmen. Historically, in times like this, you don't want a lot of angry Germans.”
“We're screwed,” Rory told the team afterwards. “It's not your fault, Heiko; but we're screwed.”
Alex and Bradley slept for the whole two and a half hour drive back to Palo Alto. Andrew stopped on El Camino Real and woke them. They got out of the car a little unsteadily. Andrew promised a check would be in the mail.
For a while they walked in silence. “Alex...” Bradley said stalling. “Alex, I sucked your dick,” he stated as they walked onto the campus.
“Don't make a big deal out of it, Bradley. It was just the Ecstasy.”
“Dude, it is a big deal. Dicksucking is a huge deal.”
“I remember. I was there.”
“Do you remember everything we did?”
“It was the drug. Don't think about it. My fault. I shouldn't have let you do it.”
“But … the thing is ...”
“It was the drug, Bradley. You wouldn't have done it otherwise.”
“Did you like it?”
“Are you serious? Why are you asking that?”
“Because I liked it. You taste amazing. Did you like it?” Bradley persisted.
“I guess, I shot a load.”
“In my mouth.”
“I'm really sorry about that. I didn't feel myself coming until it was too late.” Alex looked at Bradley to see how he was taking things; he seemed actually ok with their morning session. “You were good.”
“Good at what? Are you afraid of the C-word? Cocksucker. Three syllables … ten letters. And then there was the other stuff.”
“The other stuff wasn't real. We were just posing for pictures. No sex. All fake.”
“The kisses were real. The erections were real.”
“I'm sorry I got you into this. You have to distance yourself from some of the porn aspects.”
“I can distance myself from the porn, Alex. That's the easy part. How am I supposed to distance myself from you?”
“I don't get what you mean.”
“My head's full of you. I liked what we did. I think I love you.”
“That's impossible. It's just the drug. Wait 'til tomorrow; you'll forget all about it.”
“Forget? I sucked your dick. I spent about an hour kissing you. I came rubbing my cock on yours. And I loved it. I was sorry we faked the fuck. I would have let it happen.”
“We both need sleep. We can work this out tomorrow.”
They got to Bradley's apartment cluster. “Come in a second. I'll give you your philosophy paper back.” One they were inside, Bradley asked, “Did you feel anything? Are you really sorry it happened?”
“Of course, I felt something. I've always liked you ... you know ... admired you, I guess I should say.”
“Maybe you're right. Maybe it was just the drugs. Let's just try it. Kiss me one more time.”
“No point to it, Bradley.”
“Stay with me, Alex? I have a single room.”
“Tomorrow, Bradley. Tomorrow, we'll figure this out.” Alex took his marked up paper and left.
Josh woke in the lower bunk and waited for breakfast. He cellmate's name was Marvin and after he fucked him he had to listen to Marvin's story.
Everything in Marvin's life was a mess and, according to Marvin, it was totally somebody else's fault. He never intended to rob the liquor store, the idiot who was running it left the cash drawer open. He never intended to shoot him, the idiot dropped his gun and shot himself. He never meant to resist arrest, the accelerator stuck on his truck. He never planned to violate parole, his girl friend forced him to. The other arrest, he was framed. Before that he didn't much remember, but his mother was always giving him trouble over every little thing.
“I'm not gay, you know. I'm not gay,” Marvin assured Josh. “But go along and get along, that's my motto. Prison's for a long time.” Marvin paused. “I appreciate it that you didn't want any more than a fuck. I can't do cocksuckin' for shit. That was how I got this tattoo.” He held his upper lip back. It said “Sucks.” Then he pulled his lower lip down and it said “In a bad way.”
“I'm hoping to get Mule Creek. It's nice there. For a prison. You, though … murderers get San Quentin.”
Breakfast shut Marvin up for a while. Then Josh was escorted to an interrogation room. He brightened when he saw Tim waiting for him. And then got the bad news. “There's going to be a delay in your bail...”
Rory,
Two plus.
Poor, Josh. “There's going to be a delay in your parole ...” How much was he really involved/responsible for re: Ted's death? He got to be the top last night, now how much is going to be rammed up HIS ass?
Speaking of getting fucked . . . Is the team and the project at Stanford really fucked, or perhaps the grossly inappropriate actions of the Stanford junior staff, coupled with the offended noblesse noblige affiliated with the team and the project, will net them no argument and humble acceptance of their fine product.
And, speaking of FINE product(s) - sounds like we had a very nice "shoot" today.
A little ecstasy to take the edge off the newbie to the portraiture team?
I sucked your cock . . . and I liked it! You tasted great. Did you like it? I think I love you . . . Stay with me . . . .
Alex got his pipes cleaned, but is staying very clinical. I guess that's because he has eyes only for Gary aka Gareth. The rest is just the job.
You make the scenes, no matter how intimate, embarrassing, comical, or over the top, absolutely believable.
In the jail cell overnight, got a cellmate, fuck him and empty your load.
Unreal. I guess that's why the Red Cross/FDA donation guidelines has a 72 hours in lockup disqualifier question. The FDA figures that if you've been in that long, you're tainted goods.
Two plus.
Poor, Josh. “There's going to be a delay in your parole ...” How much was he really involved/responsible for re: Ted's death? He got to be the top last night, now how much is going to be rammed up HIS ass?
Speaking of getting fucked . . . Is the team and the project at Stanford really fucked, or perhaps the grossly inappropriate actions of the Stanford junior staff, coupled with the offended noblesse noblige affiliated with the team and the project, will net them no argument and humble acceptance of their fine product.
And, speaking of FINE product(s) - sounds like we had a very nice "shoot" today.
A little ecstasy to take the edge off the newbie to the portraiture team?
I sucked your cock . . . and I liked it! You tasted great. Did you like it? I think I love you . . . Stay with me . . . .
Alex got his pipes cleaned, but is staying very clinical. I guess that's because he has eyes only for Gary aka Gareth. The rest is just the job.
You make the scenes, no matter how intimate, embarrassing, comical, or over the top, absolutely believable.
In the jail cell overnight, got a cellmate, fuck him and empty your load.
Unreal. I guess that's why the Red Cross/FDA donation guidelines has a 72 hours in lockup disqualifier question. The FDA figures that if you've been in that long, you're tainted goods.
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Ok, there are the three chapters reworked to eliminate some blind alleys and completely inconceivable situations. Those only slightly inconceivable have been left alone.
I'm thinking about another spin-off for the Stanford people, but real students generally lead such boring lives ... I guess it could include a lot of faculty and administration people; they are a good source of absurdity
You sound an expert on the topic, lol.
You could build around the Smithsonian, too - just think of all the places and people in and around the museum complex - and the whole city. No material there at all.
You could build around the Smithsonian, too - just think of all the places and people in and around the museum complex - and the whole city. No material there at all.
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Session Sixty-Two
“There's going to be a delay in your bail ...” Tim told Josh. “The prosecutor has convinced the judge you're a flight risk. We can only hold you locally for another day and then we'll have to transfer you to a county facility.”
“Can I get a lawyer?”
“Of course. Do you have one? Can you afford one?”
“No. I don't even know any. Afford? How much do they cost.”
“It depends. Getting you out on bail … probably $750 or so,” Tim advised.
“Personally, I think you're getting hosed,” Neil commented. “There's no reason you're more of a flight risk that a hundred other guys.”
“I thought you'd want to see me get death,” Josh said looking at his tough questioner.
“Why? You're not guilty. It's obvious.” Neil's comment caused Josh to search his face for a hint of compassion and then, he couldn't help it, he looked at his crotch. Neil's pants were getting a little snug and a bulge was apparent in some detail. The whole world could tell that Neil had been circumcised.
Josh was taken to a small room where he could telephone a lawyer. There were ads for bail bondsmen and varieties of legal assistance on the wall. He picked one named L. L. Pritzker. After his phone call and meeting arrangements were concluded, he was returned to his cell where Marvin sucked his dick. Marvin said he needed the practice.
“It's been a while, but it's like riding a bicycle I guess. Was I good enough, Josh?”
“You're the best thing I've seen since I got to this jail, Marvin. You want me to do anything for you?”
“Dude, never make that kind of offer in San Quentin. Sounds like you're falling in love or something. Even when guys do fall for each other, they never talk about it. Bad mojo,” Marvin counseled.
“Why am I always the one?” Neil complained to Tim. “Did you see him check me out?”
“What do you think women have been complaining about for the past thirty years? It's just a reflex; ignore it.”
“See, that's where a real friend like Jerry comes in. Somebody you can trust. He has never, I repeat, never even glanced below my chin. Why can't everybody be like him?”
Tim checked out Neil's ass as he walked away and said, “Gain a few more pounds and your problem will be over.”
“Are you saying I'm fat?”
“The pants are getting a little tight, Neil.”
Deep gloom hung in the air of Rory's office. Rory had hoped the cash flow from continuing Stanford work would finance the bid preparation for the Smithsonian project. Rory didn't want to ask the chief financial officer for a marketing grant.
“Poor Heiko,” Tom said, shaking his head sadly..
“He's not poor, Tom. I think his family is pretty well off.”
“You know what I mean, Darren. It wasn't his fault.”
“Have we got any more to do for von Allmen's job?” Rory wanted to know.
“I'll call on him and see if they need a backup. It was on Gabriel's computer. We can offer to give everything a final check.”
“Good idea, Darren; but don't commit to any new work. There's no budget for it.”
An hour and a half later Darren and Z's black suit, both looking very professional, entered the Cantor Center. A new face was at the reception desk. He stared, mumbling. “Oh my God, I saw you at the Zara show.”
“Hi, I'm Darren Alva here to see Dr. von Allmen. He's expecting me.”
Von Allmen hurried to the desk to greet Darren very graciously. He apologized again for the unfortunate Gabriel Kristen. Darren said he wanted to ensure their project was completed to the curator's satisfaction and that all promised software was delivered. He quickly assured himself that it was and delivered a TS1120 backup tape for the University mainframe.
“Give this tape to the IT guys and they'll take care of the rest. If we can do anything more for you, we'd be honored. It's been a pleasure and an education seeing your operation and working with your people.”
“Again, Darren, I'm sorry about Gabriel.”
“Except for the last ten minutes, Gabriel was great to work with. His cooperation was really crucial to the result.”
“Mr. Alva?” the receptionist asked, as Darren was leaving. “Do you have a minute to talk to one of the trustees?”
“Sure, please call me Darren.”
“I'm Lee. Mr. Huntington is right over here.”
“Mr. Alva, pleased to meet you formally. I'm Harris Huntington. Morrie Chlomsky sent me to see the Zara show.”
“Oh,” Darren laughed. “Our first meeting must have been much less formal. Did we meet? I'm sorry I don't remember all the people from that night.”
“No, I could never get through the crowd around you. Morrie told me you were working here and I wanted to say hello. I'm sorry about that business at your presentation. Totally our fault.”
“We were sorry too. We were hoping for the chance to install the system for your other curators.”
“Everybody liked it. I didn't realize the installation wasn't going to be expanded.”
“It could be; there are options in the contract. But my boss assumed that we lost our chance over the Kristen business.”
“I don't see why it should be lost. Could you give me a demo?” Huntington's eyes lingered on Darren; the look was one of interest and admiration, the same scrutiny you would give to a classic sculpture.
Darren placed his laptop in front of Huntington and then with the smallest hint of seduction took off his jacket. As long as I'm a whore anyway, he told himself, I might as well make the most of it.
Huntington looked but never touched and was quick to understand the system. He was an early software pioneer in South Bay and had cashed out of his company twenty years earlier but still had enough current knowledge to appreciate a modern 4GL database. Darren's pelvis was right at his eye level and was a distraction, but the man was fully capable of multi-tasking, watching both the screen and, more discretely, Darren.
They spent an hour together. Huntington enjoyed the chance to spend some time with an attractive and attentive young man as well as the opportunity to relive some of his own early sales successes.
“Can I be honest?” Huntington asked out of politeness not concern. “I am delighted to see you're as good at your day job as you are with the other work.”
“Now can I be honest? Modeling is my day job, it pays all the bills. This is my fantasy job. I love making these programs work.”
“Twenty years ago … ” Huntington began and then thought better of it. “But never mind that. You'll get your contract options if you promise to update me on progress now and then.”
“Monthly?” suggested Darren.
“How about every other week?” countered Huntington. “I have an office at Santa Clara University, in the Comp Sci Department. It's a small department, but we're helping it along,” he said, handing Darren his card. “You should have a contract by the time you get back to your office.”
Darren walked back to his car and sent Rory a simple text. It read, “ c u asap !!! $$$ !!! ”
Alex slept the clock around and woke about eleven. He remembered with vivid clarity the events of the day before. I should have stopped Bradley, he thought, but I haven't been with anybody that hot – no, I flat haven't been with anybody at all since Gareth took off. I have to admit, Bradley turned out to be an amazing cocksucker. He walked over to his mentor's apartment and knocked.
“Oh, man, am I glad to see you! You were totally right, as usual. I had no idea what that drug could do,” Bradley sheepishly confessed. “I can't believe all the stuff I did.”
Alex felt a sense of relief. Maybe they could treat the whole thing as a boy-was-I-blitzed episode and go back to their mentor relationship.
“We don't have to tell anybody about this, right?”
“There are videos, Bradley. They will be sold to anybody who wants one.”
“Well, jeez, Alex, you said we'd be hardly recognizable. And nobody's gonna see that stuff anyway. I mean nobody we know, right?”
“Assume that everybody's going to see it. Assume your grandmother is going to see it, Bradley. That's what I was told by somebody in the business.”
“Really?” Suddenly Bradley lost his confidence.
“Just guts it out. Gay for pay. A youthful mistake, a one-time deal. You can get away with one mistake. Make a joke out of it.”
“I sucked your dick.”
“That is going to look like a minor event. The video is going to make it look like I fucked you.”
“But you didn't! Not really!”
“Doesn't matter. It's going to look that way.”
“Then I'm ...” Bradley looked anguished in a tentative way; but he was pretty certain when he said, “My whole life is fucked.”
“Guts it out. If Bill Clinton survived, anybody can.”
Bradley looked at the floor, thought that over, and decided it was worth a try. He had nothing to lose. “You know, I didn't hate doing it. But that's just for you to hear.” He looked up. “I've decided to start over with the sopranos. I'm seeing that Spanish one – Darle Buenacabeza – tonight. She could straighten out a cork screw with just her tongue.”
“Here's my outline for history. You want to take a look at it?”
“Sure.” Bradley gave Alex a clumsy hug; they bumped foreheads. “Thanks, Alex, for not being a dick about this.”
Darren got back to the Alameda office and relayed the events of his trip south. Rory confirmed that the Center had picked up two options for two more curatorial sections. “How come I'm the vice president here? Why don't we just let Darren run the place?” Rory asked the rest of the office.
“Suits me,” Cyril said thinking the questions were serious. Bernice glared at him.
The best boss always makes his staff look good and vice versa. Engine's First Law of Interpersonal Relations,” Tom said.
“Chevy's is on me, everybody,” Rory offered and people started getting ready to leave for the waterfront bar.
“Rory?” Jerry asked tentatively. “You have a second?”
When the others had left Jerry began. “Thanks for your advice about Neil and the nurses. I traded in my first nurse for one I like a lot better and it's much more like we're two couples now. Oh, and about your other question, I did a check Neil out without feeling creepy. Neil's dick is probably six and a half with a slight downward curve. His public hair is darker than the rest. He has an appendix scar – you can still see the stitch holes – and he needs to lose about fifteen pounds. When did he start packing it on?”
Rory laughed and said, “Holidays. We all need more lacrosse time.”
Eric waited until Z went out and then called Dr. Claire Simmons his old math adviser at Berkeley. “Do you think I'd have a shot at getting in medical school? UC Davis, UCSF, and Stanford are local. Any of those?”
“I've been expecting your call. Get together all your course work, from here and Alameda, and let's review. We need to invent a bachelor's degree for you first, don't we?”
“That, too, I guess. I'll get the stuff together. Thanks for your help.”
“Eric, you had a great friend in Luke. He swore that one way or another he'd get you off your rusty-dusty. Forgive my use of the medical term.”
“You knew Luke?”
“My, yes. He introduced himself when you first started courses here. He stayed in touch … kept me up to date on what you were doing.”
Eric felt constriction in his chest and the heat of tears coming to his eyes. “Thanks, Doctor. I'll see you tomorrow with my records.”
“There's going to be a delay in your bail ...” Tim told Josh. “The prosecutor has convinced the judge you're a flight risk. We can only hold you locally for another day and then we'll have to transfer you to a county facility.”
“Can I get a lawyer?”
“Of course. Do you have one? Can you afford one?”
“No. I don't even know any. Afford? How much do they cost.”
“It depends. Getting you out on bail … probably $750 or so,” Tim advised.
“Personally, I think you're getting hosed,” Neil commented. “There's no reason you're more of a flight risk that a hundred other guys.”
“I thought you'd want to see me get death,” Josh said looking at his tough questioner.
“Why? You're not guilty. It's obvious.” Neil's comment caused Josh to search his face for a hint of compassion and then, he couldn't help it, he looked at his crotch. Neil's pants were getting a little snug and a bulge was apparent in some detail. The whole world could tell that Neil had been circumcised.
Josh was taken to a small room where he could telephone a lawyer. There were ads for bail bondsmen and varieties of legal assistance on the wall. He picked one named L. L. Pritzker. After his phone call and meeting arrangements were concluded, he was returned to his cell where Marvin sucked his dick. Marvin said he needed the practice.
“It's been a while, but it's like riding a bicycle I guess. Was I good enough, Josh?”
“You're the best thing I've seen since I got to this jail, Marvin. You want me to do anything for you?”
“Dude, never make that kind of offer in San Quentin. Sounds like you're falling in love or something. Even when guys do fall for each other, they never talk about it. Bad mojo,” Marvin counseled.
“Why am I always the one?” Neil complained to Tim. “Did you see him check me out?”
“What do you think women have been complaining about for the past thirty years? It's just a reflex; ignore it.”
“See, that's where a real friend like Jerry comes in. Somebody you can trust. He has never, I repeat, never even glanced below my chin. Why can't everybody be like him?”
Tim checked out Neil's ass as he walked away and said, “Gain a few more pounds and your problem will be over.”
“Are you saying I'm fat?”
“The pants are getting a little tight, Neil.”
Deep gloom hung in the air of Rory's office. Rory had hoped the cash flow from continuing Stanford work would finance the bid preparation for the Smithsonian project. Rory didn't want to ask the chief financial officer for a marketing grant.
“Poor Heiko,” Tom said, shaking his head sadly..
“He's not poor, Tom. I think his family is pretty well off.”
“You know what I mean, Darren. It wasn't his fault.”
“Have we got any more to do for von Allmen's job?” Rory wanted to know.
“I'll call on him and see if they need a backup. It was on Gabriel's computer. We can offer to give everything a final check.”
“Good idea, Darren; but don't commit to any new work. There's no budget for it.”
An hour and a half later Darren and Z's black suit, both looking very professional, entered the Cantor Center. A new face was at the reception desk. He stared, mumbling. “Oh my God, I saw you at the Zara show.”
“Hi, I'm Darren Alva here to see Dr. von Allmen. He's expecting me.”
Von Allmen hurried to the desk to greet Darren very graciously. He apologized again for the unfortunate Gabriel Kristen. Darren said he wanted to ensure their project was completed to the curator's satisfaction and that all promised software was delivered. He quickly assured himself that it was and delivered a TS1120 backup tape for the University mainframe.
“Give this tape to the IT guys and they'll take care of the rest. If we can do anything more for you, we'd be honored. It's been a pleasure and an education seeing your operation and working with your people.”
“Again, Darren, I'm sorry about Gabriel.”
“Except for the last ten minutes, Gabriel was great to work with. His cooperation was really crucial to the result.”
“Mr. Alva?” the receptionist asked, as Darren was leaving. “Do you have a minute to talk to one of the trustees?”
“Sure, please call me Darren.”
“I'm Lee. Mr. Huntington is right over here.”
“Mr. Alva, pleased to meet you formally. I'm Harris Huntington. Morrie Chlomsky sent me to see the Zara show.”
“Oh,” Darren laughed. “Our first meeting must have been much less formal. Did we meet? I'm sorry I don't remember all the people from that night.”
“No, I could never get through the crowd around you. Morrie told me you were working here and I wanted to say hello. I'm sorry about that business at your presentation. Totally our fault.”
“We were sorry too. We were hoping for the chance to install the system for your other curators.”
“Everybody liked it. I didn't realize the installation wasn't going to be expanded.”
“It could be; there are options in the contract. But my boss assumed that we lost our chance over the Kristen business.”
“I don't see why it should be lost. Could you give me a demo?” Huntington's eyes lingered on Darren; the look was one of interest and admiration, the same scrutiny you would give to a classic sculpture.
Darren placed his laptop in front of Huntington and then with the smallest hint of seduction took off his jacket. As long as I'm a whore anyway, he told himself, I might as well make the most of it.
Huntington looked but never touched and was quick to understand the system. He was an early software pioneer in South Bay and had cashed out of his company twenty years earlier but still had enough current knowledge to appreciate a modern 4GL database. Darren's pelvis was right at his eye level and was a distraction, but the man was fully capable of multi-tasking, watching both the screen and, more discretely, Darren.
They spent an hour together. Huntington enjoyed the chance to spend some time with an attractive and attentive young man as well as the opportunity to relive some of his own early sales successes.
“Can I be honest?” Huntington asked out of politeness not concern. “I am delighted to see you're as good at your day job as you are with the other work.”
“Now can I be honest? Modeling is my day job, it pays all the bills. This is my fantasy job. I love making these programs work.”
“Twenty years ago … ” Huntington began and then thought better of it. “But never mind that. You'll get your contract options if you promise to update me on progress now and then.”
“Monthly?” suggested Darren.
“How about every other week?” countered Huntington. “I have an office at Santa Clara University, in the Comp Sci Department. It's a small department, but we're helping it along,” he said, handing Darren his card. “You should have a contract by the time you get back to your office.”
Darren walked back to his car and sent Rory a simple text. It read, “ c u asap !!! $$$ !!! ”
Alex slept the clock around and woke about eleven. He remembered with vivid clarity the events of the day before. I should have stopped Bradley, he thought, but I haven't been with anybody that hot – no, I flat haven't been with anybody at all since Gareth took off. I have to admit, Bradley turned out to be an amazing cocksucker. He walked over to his mentor's apartment and knocked.
“Oh, man, am I glad to see you! You were totally right, as usual. I had no idea what that drug could do,” Bradley sheepishly confessed. “I can't believe all the stuff I did.”
Alex felt a sense of relief. Maybe they could treat the whole thing as a boy-was-I-blitzed episode and go back to their mentor relationship.
“We don't have to tell anybody about this, right?”
“There are videos, Bradley. They will be sold to anybody who wants one.”
“Well, jeez, Alex, you said we'd be hardly recognizable. And nobody's gonna see that stuff anyway. I mean nobody we know, right?”
“Assume that everybody's going to see it. Assume your grandmother is going to see it, Bradley. That's what I was told by somebody in the business.”
“Really?” Suddenly Bradley lost his confidence.
“Just guts it out. Gay for pay. A youthful mistake, a one-time deal. You can get away with one mistake. Make a joke out of it.”
“I sucked your dick.”
“That is going to look like a minor event. The video is going to make it look like I fucked you.”
“But you didn't! Not really!”
“Doesn't matter. It's going to look that way.”
“Then I'm ...” Bradley looked anguished in a tentative way; but he was pretty certain when he said, “My whole life is fucked.”
“Guts it out. If Bill Clinton survived, anybody can.”
Bradley looked at the floor, thought that over, and decided it was worth a try. He had nothing to lose. “You know, I didn't hate doing it. But that's just for you to hear.” He looked up. “I've decided to start over with the sopranos. I'm seeing that Spanish one – Darle Buenacabeza – tonight. She could straighten out a cork screw with just her tongue.”
“Here's my outline for history. You want to take a look at it?”
“Sure.” Bradley gave Alex a clumsy hug; they bumped foreheads. “Thanks, Alex, for not being a dick about this.”
Darren got back to the Alameda office and relayed the events of his trip south. Rory confirmed that the Center had picked up two options for two more curatorial sections. “How come I'm the vice president here? Why don't we just let Darren run the place?” Rory asked the rest of the office.
“Suits me,” Cyril said thinking the questions were serious. Bernice glared at him.
The best boss always makes his staff look good and vice versa. Engine's First Law of Interpersonal Relations,” Tom said.
“Chevy's is on me, everybody,” Rory offered and people started getting ready to leave for the waterfront bar.
“Rory?” Jerry asked tentatively. “You have a second?”
When the others had left Jerry began. “Thanks for your advice about Neil and the nurses. I traded in my first nurse for one I like a lot better and it's much more like we're two couples now. Oh, and about your other question, I did a check Neil out without feeling creepy. Neil's dick is probably six and a half with a slight downward curve. His public hair is darker than the rest. He has an appendix scar – you can still see the stitch holes – and he needs to lose about fifteen pounds. When did he start packing it on?”
Rory laughed and said, “Holidays. We all need more lacrosse time.”
Eric waited until Z went out and then called Dr. Claire Simmons his old math adviser at Berkeley. “Do you think I'd have a shot at getting in medical school? UC Davis, UCSF, and Stanford are local. Any of those?”
“I've been expecting your call. Get together all your course work, from here and Alameda, and let's review. We need to invent a bachelor's degree for you first, don't we?”
“That, too, I guess. I'll get the stuff together. Thanks for your help.”
“Eric, you had a great friend in Luke. He swore that one way or another he'd get you off your rusty-dusty. Forgive my use of the medical term.”
“You knew Luke?”
“My, yes. He introduced himself when you first started courses here. He stayed in touch … kept me up to date on what you were doing.”
Eric felt constriction in his chest and the heat of tears coming to his eyes. “Thanks, Doctor. I'll see you tomorrow with my records.”
Rory,
I love it when justice triumphs. One job contact touches another, smooths over an unfortunate circumstance, and they get the contract.
Darren gets to update the Board Director every other week - hmmm, what kind of update, given his frame of reference?!
Eric - our loving, friendly, gregarious Eric, and Luke's legacy.
What a mentor Luke truly was and still is from the great beyond.
Bradley and Alex face off the morning after, with Bradley awfully sheepish, but I wonder if that's the end of it or not.
An early AM treat.
Thanks!
I love it when justice triumphs. One job contact touches another, smooths over an unfortunate circumstance, and they get the contract.
Darren gets to update the Board Director every other week - hmmm, what kind of update, given his frame of reference?!
Eric - our loving, friendly, gregarious Eric, and Luke's legacy.
What a mentor Luke truly was and still is from the great beyond.
Bradley and Alex face off the morning after, with Bradley awfully sheepish, but I wonder if that's the end of it or not.
An early AM treat.
Thanks!
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Session Sixty-Three
Rory asked, but Bernice couldn't go. She claimed her nesting instinct had taken over although, at three months, there were no apparent signs of the baby. So two weeks after securing the additional Stanford work, Rory, Tom, and Darren were back in Washington, showing that Stanford system to Brent Michaels, who was favorably impressed, but he was more interested in some gossip he had heard.
“You know by now that the curatorial world is a small place. I heard about your presentation to Stanford. Who had the presence of mind to save the projector?” Tom raised his hand and Michaels applauded. “Do you know how famous you have become for doing that? There's a video that shows your hands snatching the projector out of harm's way just as that poor fellow leaps into oblivion grabbing for it. It's priceless. Do you mind if I tell people I've met you?”
Tom grinned proudly. “Feel free. Nobody messes with my equipment. Does everybody also talk about the fact Stanford gave us a follow-on work order?”
“Afraid not, but I'll mention that to people. I don't suppose that Stanford student would be part of your inventory team, would he?”
“He's a full-time student and I don't think he'd be available for out of town work. I'll ask him if he'd be interested during a school break. I thought we'd use local part-timers, maybe students from the Corcoran, to keep costs down.”
“Just a flight of fancy. You're right, of course. Could you present me with a level-of-effort proposal for inventorying approximately 38,000 items over six months with the work ordered up in monthly increments? That way the project will look like prudent management and I won't need an Act of Congress to get things moving.”
Rory readily agreed and the deal was sealed with a hand shake. “It's too bad you're a few weeks early for the cherry blossoms. Spring can be quite pleasant here.”
“Rory's letting me stay an extra day to see the rest of the Smithsonian; I'm looking forward to it,” Tom said.
“Can you all stay? I'll arrange a special tour for you,” Michaels offered.
“Sorry,” Darren said. “I'm due in New York tomorrow on another job.”
“And I need to wrap up the contract preps back in Alameda. But that's a wonderful offer and I'll definitely make plans to add a day's vacation to my next trip.”
“Well, if you're spending the night, Tom, here's where some museum people hang out at night.” Michael's scribbled down an address and handed it to Tom.
Alex followed Gareth's instructions about getting a follow-up HIV test. He waited out an average incubation period and then returned to the walk-in clinic for another test. He filled out the forms and sat waiting his turn. One face looked familiar.
“Aren't you Gareth's friend?” the familiar face asked.
“Yes, did I meet you here before Christmas?” Alex asked.
“You did. Very flattering of you to remember. I'm Barrelah Chardonnay, professionally. Mike Linoch in real life. I'm a drag queen in North Beach.”
They talked a bit and Alex mentioned he didn't know exactly where Gareth was but was planning to look for him during Spring Break. “I think he's in a town in Iowa on the Mississippi.”
“I thought he lived in Illinois, sort of across the river from St. Louis,” Barrelah said. “I got a card from him that showed that arch they have in St. Louis.”
Alex confessed that all he had was an email talking about his mother's junk shop in Iowa.
“Oh, sweetie, none of that is true. His mother's dead and his father sells used cars.”
“Why would he tell me that?” Alex was numb.
“If I had to guess, I'd say he doesn't want you to find him, honey. He's protecting you.”
“I don't need protecting. I just want to see him.”
“Dear boy, he said you were the best and you are. It broke his heart to leave you.”
“Can you tell me any more? I'm going to find him.”
“It was just a post card. I told you all that it said.” Barrelah didn't mention the phone calls, one as recently as last week from Belleville, Illinois. “Sweetie, he doesn't want you to find him.”
“I can look anyway.”
“That's a long river, the Mississippi. A very long river, even if you look only in Iowa and Illinois.”
The only good news was that Alex remained negative. The long bus ride back to Palo Alto gave Alex the chance to contemplate how long the Mississippi is and how slim his chances were of finding love. He got off the bus and noticed another student appraising his looks. “You a looker or a buyer?” he asked and the student quickly walked away.
Darren got off the train at Penn Station and was lost in the claustrophobic gloom of the place; the building was oppressive even where the ceilings were high. He took the wrong escalator up from the track level and missed meeting Nicky. He got in a taxi and soon felt his phone buzz. He answered “where are you? N.” with “taxi to Morrie's office.”
A visitor's first impression of New York usually isn't good. It's best to arrive at night when the dirt isn't so visible and the lights are bright. If you don't look too closely, you won't notice all the burned out bulbs. The burned out people are another matter. Just keep moving and don't scrutinize. After a couple of days, or maybe a couple of years if you're the sensitive type, you won't even notice.
Darren arrived at three in the afternoon on a cold, windy, slate gray March day. The lobby of Zara's offices was a welcoming glitzy cocoon, with warm lighting designed to brighten and exhilarate. Nicky's arrival a minute later was an even better tonic than the polished metal and indirect lights.
They got out of the elevator and into a cocktail party. “At three in the afternoon?” Darren questioned.
“Cocktails are always offered. No one drinks,” Nicky explained as they watched one young man down two of something brown.
“Morrie just fired me,” was the quick comment to Nicky.
“I warned you,” Nicky answered. “Call me for a recommendation.” The young man weaved toward the elevators. “He was accepting spiffs from the vendors.”
“Spiff?”
“A personal bonus or you could call it a bribe for giving them some business. Morrie is never happy about those. Here, leave your stuff in my office and we'll meet the press.”
Tanyeli was there and Darren was polite but a little cool when they met. “Forget the camera, Darren. This is business,” Nicky whispered.
Darren pasted a smile on his face and posed for pictures with Tanyeli. “Are we spending tonight together,” he asked her.
“We can if you want,” she answered. “I'd like that. I'm at the Four Seasons. Where are you staying?” Tanyeli's willingness to spend another night with him seemed genuine.
“I … uh, I don't know. Nicky's office, I think.”
Tanyeli's face lit up with laughter and she hugged Darren's arm. If it was an act, it was a very good one; despite his earlier lesson Darren was won over easily.
“Z told me you are becoming a genius computer salesman.” She interlaced her fingers with his and smiled expectantly.
“When did he tell you that?”
“Yesterday. I called him when I found out you would be here. You know he doesn't know your cell number?”
“Yes, he does. I put it on his speed dial myself. Actually, now that you mention it, maybe he doesn't. I think I had to install all his speed numbers. He's better with analog, things like stoves.”
“I remember he's a good in the kitchen. He was always pestering our cook in Italy to let him help her.”
Morrie cut off their conversation with a formal introduction to the fashion press. “I present the signature of Zara. Young, modern, stylish, with an eye for a quality bargain. Tanyeli and Darren will be featured in all our ads.”
“What about the live, in-store shows, Morrie?” shouted out one reporter.
“That will only be for a few cities. We're experimenting with a different branding idea that we're not ready to announce yet. Let your imaginations run wild,” Morrie teased. “I'll have more to say in time for the fall line roll out.”
During a brief lull Darren asked where he was going to stay and Nicky smiled. He seemed suddenly shy. “Darren, I was kind of hoping you'd like to ...”
Morrie cut him off with an order. “Come on Darren. We're going to the Four Seasons for a vendors' party. You and T will be the feature.” Morrie physically moved Darren and Tanyeli along all the way to the limo door.
“I'll bring your stuff,” Nicky called after them.
And so Darren ended up in Tanyeli's suite again with Morrie wishing them good night at the door. “At least he didn't tuck us in,” Darren sighed.
“You want a jacuzzi?” Tanyeli asked. “I'm beat.”
They sipped some exotic water whose price Darren was afraid to ask and relaxed in the bubbles. Tanyeli wanted to know more about Darren's sales job. “That's impressive,” she noted. “I've got nothing to fall back on. My face and body are all I have. One mistake and ...” She left her fate hanging.
“Alright. You almost had me feeling sorry for you.”
Tanyeli giggled and pressed her breasts against Darren. “You see through everything.”
“I wish I could see through these walls to see where the cameras are.”
“No cameras tonight.” She held his cock in her hand and and kissed him. “Just us. No cameras. No strings.”
The sex was gentle and langorous. Darren was a long time coming, which suited Tanyeli. She was slow to warm up but eventually Darren felt her pussy engorging and gripping him more tightly. At last, he thought. She came in a series of pulses and sighs; he felt her wetness and her heat and erupted as he pushed as deeply as he could.
They slept in a big bed, sometimes close to each other, sometimes apart. This time when he woke she was there, still sleeping, looking not quite flawless, but much more human. A few freckles, he noticed, and decided they were cute, giving her a different appeal from the dusky, sleek look of her professional appearance. Turkish, with a hint of girl next door, if you happened to live next door to a harem.
Josh was transferred to the county jail in Santa Rita. The processing was more efficient than he expected and he was soon in a new cell. Two beds, a toilet, and a sink. There were a couple of built-in shelves at the head of the bed. No way to hide anything and no privacy whatsoever. His cellmate was named Roger, a forty-something being held pending trial for assault. He had beaten his boss, breaking a few teeth and ribs, in a dispute over a couple of dollars pay.
“You don't seem like the type,” Josh said, which unexpectedly enraged his cellmate. In a very deliberate but quiet way, Roger stuffed a sock in Josh's mouth, pulled his coveralls down and bent Josh over the lower bunk.
He whispered in Josh's ear, “Here's the type I am.” He fucked Josh fast and hard. He wasn't brutal, but he was relentless. He pumped faster and came before anything got painful.
Josh had expected a giant cock to rip him up, but Roger was average-sized, nothing too hard to handle. Josh's erect cock betrayed the fact that he liked the fuck and the tiniest hug by Roger when it was over assured Josh that his sex life was not about to become a nightly grapple with broken ribs and teeth.
“Just so we have that settled,” Roger stated. “I'm the top,” he added, climbing into the top bunk. Although Josh was the larger man, Roger's determination decided their roles.
Josh expected a call from his lawyer, but nothing came. No call and no message. The next day L. L. Pritzker advised Josh that he declined to take his case; he gave no reason.
Larry loved Salt Lake City, although he barely saw more than his motel room. Cal wanted to spend every spare minute in bed. Friday night was a mad orgy, but Saturday, the night before the game, they got a lot of sleep content in each other's arms. After the game, they had two hours to spend talking mostly about love and absence. They decided life could be tolerable for the rest of the season provided they got together at least twice a month.
“At the ten day point, I really start to need you, Larry. It's physical and mental, both. I get irritable and distracted. Phone calls help, but knowing I'm about to see you helps more.”
“Ok, every two weeks, then, no matter what, I'll ...” Cal interrrupted him with a kiss. “... meet you wherever you are.”
“Mmmm...” Cal hugged him tightly. “I think we have time for one more ...”
It was a needy fuck, with Cal using words like more and harder at lot. He wanted to feel it and make it last. A knock on the door and a voice saying, “The airport bus leaves in ten minutes,” ended the session. Larry lay naked and spent. “Just go, I'll take care of the room,” he told his quickly dressing lover.
After some touring Tom went to the address that Brent had given him. It was a jazz club on Seventh Street; it wasn't not crowded but contained several tables with a number of serious looking people and a respectable jazz combo playing in the background. Tom went to the bar and ordered a mojito. He sipped, listening to the group and thinking about Devon's mojitos.
“There you are,” Brent said, looking much less curatorial in a dark turtleneck sweater. “You like jazz?”
“As long as it's upbeat and optimistic. I was just thinking about a dead friend who always made mojitos. Don't need no downers, tonight.”
Brent was sympathetic and listened to the story of Tom and Devon. “Oh, it gets worse. Now I'm in a threesome that's starting to come apart,” Tom ended. “So no gloomy music wanted tonight.”
“Then let's go to another place I know. It's a younger crowd and the music is livelier.”
At the Ultrabar the music was so loud they couldn't talk. The crowd looked like they were fresh out of high school with lots of energy, lots of running from group to group, lots of laughs and even a little dancing. It was a straight bar with a substantial gay contingent.
A girl came up to them and asked if they had attended St. Albans, a private boys school in the northwest part of town. She was disappointed. “You look St. Albans - you the aging preppy and you the funky cute rebel.”
Brent laughed, “You got the aging part right.”
“Never mind, Mr. Aging, I'd do you,” she said. “I bet you're good. And you,” she turned to Tom. “I bet you're a two-timer.”
“No, I'm usually pretty faithful.”
“I mean good for two times, cutie,” she winked and Tom smiled.
“Tell you what. I'll do both of you for a third off.” There was no reply. “Ok, half,” she bargained.
“I can't put you on my expense account,” Tom complained with mock sadness. The girl's smile faded and she moved on.
“What did she mean, aging preppy?” Tom commented looking Brent over.
“I'm forty-three,” Brent said.
“I think that's a perfect age,” Tom said, sipping on his drink.
Brent's house was in Burleith, north of Georgetown and much less expensive. It was a small row house, big enough for a bachelor and beautifully decorated with carefully chosen pieces of art.
“If you hadn't told me, I'd say thirty-three,” Tom commented when he saw Brent's body. It was a lie, of course; but where's the harm? Brent's hair was thinning but he wasn't fat, he was nicely erect, and he was greatly appreciative.
Brent lay on top of Tom. Their hard cocks thrust together and Tom was giving signals he was willing, but at the last minute Brent kissed Tom and said, “You be the top.”
Tom fucked him slowly and with passion. It may have been a while since Brent had last had a cock in him, but he knew what to do and Tom came explosively. As usual he remained hard and deeply lodged in Brent when it was over.
“Are you really a two-timer?” Brent asked. “You don't have to be so gentle,” he said when Tom resumed thrusting. With that encouragement, Tom became a lot more active and stroked Brent's cock as they continued. They both reached orgasm at nearly the same time, with Brent a little in the lead.
This time Tom withdrew when it was over but stayed in an embrace. “I think I'm going to go for a graduate degree in aging preppies, Mr. Michaels, if that's ok with you.”
Brent laughed and said he was starving. He made them a quick frittata. “Beautiful boy,” he said to Tom when they were done.
“I'm not that young,” Tom said. “Thirty is creeping up.”
“If you hadn't told me, I'd have said twenty,” Brent answered.
“Liar,” they both said together and went happily back to bed.
Heiko watched Daegan leave for a date with Cheryl. He thought about his father's suggestion that he go to school in Germany. Secretly pining away for Daegan sure wasn't getting him anywhere. He could finish the term at Stanford and then transfer. German universities were less fussy about transfers than American schools, especially if the student's name was Wittelsbach; it could work. His thoughts were interrupted by a text from Gabriel. Another apology, Heiko groaned inwardly. On the other hand, Gabi wasn't a bad fuck; he was willing enough and didn't get all syrupy afterward. Once more wouldn't hurt. There was a knock on the door Daegan had left ajar and Alex came in.
“I don't have AIDS,” Alex said.
“You sound disappointed. Did you think you did?”
“No, it's hard to explain. What I came for is there's a Kurdish movie showing. It sounds gruesome. Feel like suffering?” Alex invited.
“Ja, gut,” Heiko said with no enthusiasm. He gave Alex a kiss on the cheek and then spent two hours watching the most actionless movie of all time. Six actors sitting around or driving aimlessly talking about loss.
With another hour yet to go, Alex addressed the screen, “Your life sucks; get over it.”
“Shhhh!” came from three irate people sitting near him.
Heiko giggled and squeezed Alex's hand. With about fifteen minutes left of the film, there still was no action, no conflict, and even less dialog. They went back to Heiko's room.
“Now tell me about this AIDS thing, Alex. Why are you so down?”
Alex told Heiko the whole Gareth story and then shrugged. “What should I do? Go look for him?”
“I'll go with you if you want. I could help with the driving. But what are your chances of finding him?”
“Slim and none, I guess.”
“And if you did find him? Then what?” Alex had no answer. “You look forlorn... You know it's almost the same word in German. Verloren.” Heiko thought he detected a tear. “Come here.” He pulled Alex onto his lap.
“What are you doing?” Alex demanded.
“Have I ever given you one of my best kisses?”
“Heiko!” Alex said with confusion. But it was too late. The kiss was prolonged.
“You're a very good kisser.”
“So are you. Nice full lips.”
Then Heiko tickled him and they wrestled onto the floor, back to being the best of old friends. “Did you get a hardon when I kissed you?”
“No.” Alex sounded regretful.
“Neither did I. Too bad, huh?”
Rory asked, but Bernice couldn't go. She claimed her nesting instinct had taken over although, at three months, there were no apparent signs of the baby. So two weeks after securing the additional Stanford work, Rory, Tom, and Darren were back in Washington, showing that Stanford system to Brent Michaels, who was favorably impressed, but he was more interested in some gossip he had heard.
“You know by now that the curatorial world is a small place. I heard about your presentation to Stanford. Who had the presence of mind to save the projector?” Tom raised his hand and Michaels applauded. “Do you know how famous you have become for doing that? There's a video that shows your hands snatching the projector out of harm's way just as that poor fellow leaps into oblivion grabbing for it. It's priceless. Do you mind if I tell people I've met you?”
Tom grinned proudly. “Feel free. Nobody messes with my equipment. Does everybody also talk about the fact Stanford gave us a follow-on work order?”
“Afraid not, but I'll mention that to people. I don't suppose that Stanford student would be part of your inventory team, would he?”
“He's a full-time student and I don't think he'd be available for out of town work. I'll ask him if he'd be interested during a school break. I thought we'd use local part-timers, maybe students from the Corcoran, to keep costs down.”
“Just a flight of fancy. You're right, of course. Could you present me with a level-of-effort proposal for inventorying approximately 38,000 items over six months with the work ordered up in monthly increments? That way the project will look like prudent management and I won't need an Act of Congress to get things moving.”
Rory readily agreed and the deal was sealed with a hand shake. “It's too bad you're a few weeks early for the cherry blossoms. Spring can be quite pleasant here.”
“Rory's letting me stay an extra day to see the rest of the Smithsonian; I'm looking forward to it,” Tom said.
“Can you all stay? I'll arrange a special tour for you,” Michaels offered.
“Sorry,” Darren said. “I'm due in New York tomorrow on another job.”
“And I need to wrap up the contract preps back in Alameda. But that's a wonderful offer and I'll definitely make plans to add a day's vacation to my next trip.”
“Well, if you're spending the night, Tom, here's where some museum people hang out at night.” Michael's scribbled down an address and handed it to Tom.
Alex followed Gareth's instructions about getting a follow-up HIV test. He waited out an average incubation period and then returned to the walk-in clinic for another test. He filled out the forms and sat waiting his turn. One face looked familiar.
“Aren't you Gareth's friend?” the familiar face asked.
“Yes, did I meet you here before Christmas?” Alex asked.
“You did. Very flattering of you to remember. I'm Barrelah Chardonnay, professionally. Mike Linoch in real life. I'm a drag queen in North Beach.”
They talked a bit and Alex mentioned he didn't know exactly where Gareth was but was planning to look for him during Spring Break. “I think he's in a town in Iowa on the Mississippi.”
“I thought he lived in Illinois, sort of across the river from St. Louis,” Barrelah said. “I got a card from him that showed that arch they have in St. Louis.”
Alex confessed that all he had was an email talking about his mother's junk shop in Iowa.
“Oh, sweetie, none of that is true. His mother's dead and his father sells used cars.”
“Why would he tell me that?” Alex was numb.
“If I had to guess, I'd say he doesn't want you to find him, honey. He's protecting you.”
“I don't need protecting. I just want to see him.”
“Dear boy, he said you were the best and you are. It broke his heart to leave you.”
“Can you tell me any more? I'm going to find him.”
“It was just a post card. I told you all that it said.” Barrelah didn't mention the phone calls, one as recently as last week from Belleville, Illinois. “Sweetie, he doesn't want you to find him.”
“I can look anyway.”
“That's a long river, the Mississippi. A very long river, even if you look only in Iowa and Illinois.”
The only good news was that Alex remained negative. The long bus ride back to Palo Alto gave Alex the chance to contemplate how long the Mississippi is and how slim his chances were of finding love. He got off the bus and noticed another student appraising his looks. “You a looker or a buyer?” he asked and the student quickly walked away.
Darren got off the train at Penn Station and was lost in the claustrophobic gloom of the place; the building was oppressive even where the ceilings were high. He took the wrong escalator up from the track level and missed meeting Nicky. He got in a taxi and soon felt his phone buzz. He answered “where are you? N.” with “taxi to Morrie's office.”
A visitor's first impression of New York usually isn't good. It's best to arrive at night when the dirt isn't so visible and the lights are bright. If you don't look too closely, you won't notice all the burned out bulbs. The burned out people are another matter. Just keep moving and don't scrutinize. After a couple of days, or maybe a couple of years if you're the sensitive type, you won't even notice.
Darren arrived at three in the afternoon on a cold, windy, slate gray March day. The lobby of Zara's offices was a welcoming glitzy cocoon, with warm lighting designed to brighten and exhilarate. Nicky's arrival a minute later was an even better tonic than the polished metal and indirect lights.
They got out of the elevator and into a cocktail party. “At three in the afternoon?” Darren questioned.
“Cocktails are always offered. No one drinks,” Nicky explained as they watched one young man down two of something brown.
“Morrie just fired me,” was the quick comment to Nicky.
“I warned you,” Nicky answered. “Call me for a recommendation.” The young man weaved toward the elevators. “He was accepting spiffs from the vendors.”
“Spiff?”
“A personal bonus or you could call it a bribe for giving them some business. Morrie is never happy about those. Here, leave your stuff in my office and we'll meet the press.”
Tanyeli was there and Darren was polite but a little cool when they met. “Forget the camera, Darren. This is business,” Nicky whispered.
Darren pasted a smile on his face and posed for pictures with Tanyeli. “Are we spending tonight together,” he asked her.
“We can if you want,” she answered. “I'd like that. I'm at the Four Seasons. Where are you staying?” Tanyeli's willingness to spend another night with him seemed genuine.
“I … uh, I don't know. Nicky's office, I think.”
Tanyeli's face lit up with laughter and she hugged Darren's arm. If it was an act, it was a very good one; despite his earlier lesson Darren was won over easily.
“Z told me you are becoming a genius computer salesman.” She interlaced her fingers with his and smiled expectantly.
“When did he tell you that?”
“Yesterday. I called him when I found out you would be here. You know he doesn't know your cell number?”
“Yes, he does. I put it on his speed dial myself. Actually, now that you mention it, maybe he doesn't. I think I had to install all his speed numbers. He's better with analog, things like stoves.”
“I remember he's a good in the kitchen. He was always pestering our cook in Italy to let him help her.”
Morrie cut off their conversation with a formal introduction to the fashion press. “I present the signature of Zara. Young, modern, stylish, with an eye for a quality bargain. Tanyeli and Darren will be featured in all our ads.”
“What about the live, in-store shows, Morrie?” shouted out one reporter.
“That will only be for a few cities. We're experimenting with a different branding idea that we're not ready to announce yet. Let your imaginations run wild,” Morrie teased. “I'll have more to say in time for the fall line roll out.”
During a brief lull Darren asked where he was going to stay and Nicky smiled. He seemed suddenly shy. “Darren, I was kind of hoping you'd like to ...”
Morrie cut him off with an order. “Come on Darren. We're going to the Four Seasons for a vendors' party. You and T will be the feature.” Morrie physically moved Darren and Tanyeli along all the way to the limo door.
“I'll bring your stuff,” Nicky called after them.
And so Darren ended up in Tanyeli's suite again with Morrie wishing them good night at the door. “At least he didn't tuck us in,” Darren sighed.
“You want a jacuzzi?” Tanyeli asked. “I'm beat.”
They sipped some exotic water whose price Darren was afraid to ask and relaxed in the bubbles. Tanyeli wanted to know more about Darren's sales job. “That's impressive,” she noted. “I've got nothing to fall back on. My face and body are all I have. One mistake and ...” She left her fate hanging.
“Alright. You almost had me feeling sorry for you.”
Tanyeli giggled and pressed her breasts against Darren. “You see through everything.”
“I wish I could see through these walls to see where the cameras are.”
“No cameras tonight.” She held his cock in her hand and and kissed him. “Just us. No cameras. No strings.”
The sex was gentle and langorous. Darren was a long time coming, which suited Tanyeli. She was slow to warm up but eventually Darren felt her pussy engorging and gripping him more tightly. At last, he thought. She came in a series of pulses and sighs; he felt her wetness and her heat and erupted as he pushed as deeply as he could.
They slept in a big bed, sometimes close to each other, sometimes apart. This time when he woke she was there, still sleeping, looking not quite flawless, but much more human. A few freckles, he noticed, and decided they were cute, giving her a different appeal from the dusky, sleek look of her professional appearance. Turkish, with a hint of girl next door, if you happened to live next door to a harem.
Josh was transferred to the county jail in Santa Rita. The processing was more efficient than he expected and he was soon in a new cell. Two beds, a toilet, and a sink. There were a couple of built-in shelves at the head of the bed. No way to hide anything and no privacy whatsoever. His cellmate was named Roger, a forty-something being held pending trial for assault. He had beaten his boss, breaking a few teeth and ribs, in a dispute over a couple of dollars pay.
“You don't seem like the type,” Josh said, which unexpectedly enraged his cellmate. In a very deliberate but quiet way, Roger stuffed a sock in Josh's mouth, pulled his coveralls down and bent Josh over the lower bunk.
He whispered in Josh's ear, “Here's the type I am.” He fucked Josh fast and hard. He wasn't brutal, but he was relentless. He pumped faster and came before anything got painful.
Josh had expected a giant cock to rip him up, but Roger was average-sized, nothing too hard to handle. Josh's erect cock betrayed the fact that he liked the fuck and the tiniest hug by Roger when it was over assured Josh that his sex life was not about to become a nightly grapple with broken ribs and teeth.
“Just so we have that settled,” Roger stated. “I'm the top,” he added, climbing into the top bunk. Although Josh was the larger man, Roger's determination decided their roles.
Josh expected a call from his lawyer, but nothing came. No call and no message. The next day L. L. Pritzker advised Josh that he declined to take his case; he gave no reason.
Larry loved Salt Lake City, although he barely saw more than his motel room. Cal wanted to spend every spare minute in bed. Friday night was a mad orgy, but Saturday, the night before the game, they got a lot of sleep content in each other's arms. After the game, they had two hours to spend talking mostly about love and absence. They decided life could be tolerable for the rest of the season provided they got together at least twice a month.
“At the ten day point, I really start to need you, Larry. It's physical and mental, both. I get irritable and distracted. Phone calls help, but knowing I'm about to see you helps more.”
“Ok, every two weeks, then, no matter what, I'll ...” Cal interrrupted him with a kiss. “... meet you wherever you are.”
“Mmmm...” Cal hugged him tightly. “I think we have time for one more ...”
It was a needy fuck, with Cal using words like more and harder at lot. He wanted to feel it and make it last. A knock on the door and a voice saying, “The airport bus leaves in ten minutes,” ended the session. Larry lay naked and spent. “Just go, I'll take care of the room,” he told his quickly dressing lover.
After some touring Tom went to the address that Brent had given him. It was a jazz club on Seventh Street; it wasn't not crowded but contained several tables with a number of serious looking people and a respectable jazz combo playing in the background. Tom went to the bar and ordered a mojito. He sipped, listening to the group and thinking about Devon's mojitos.
“There you are,” Brent said, looking much less curatorial in a dark turtleneck sweater. “You like jazz?”
“As long as it's upbeat and optimistic. I was just thinking about a dead friend who always made mojitos. Don't need no downers, tonight.”
Brent was sympathetic and listened to the story of Tom and Devon. “Oh, it gets worse. Now I'm in a threesome that's starting to come apart,” Tom ended. “So no gloomy music wanted tonight.”
“Then let's go to another place I know. It's a younger crowd and the music is livelier.”
At the Ultrabar the music was so loud they couldn't talk. The crowd looked like they were fresh out of high school with lots of energy, lots of running from group to group, lots of laughs and even a little dancing. It was a straight bar with a substantial gay contingent.
A girl came up to them and asked if they had attended St. Albans, a private boys school in the northwest part of town. She was disappointed. “You look St. Albans - you the aging preppy and you the funky cute rebel.”
Brent laughed, “You got the aging part right.”
“Never mind, Mr. Aging, I'd do you,” she said. “I bet you're good. And you,” she turned to Tom. “I bet you're a two-timer.”
“No, I'm usually pretty faithful.”
“I mean good for two times, cutie,” she winked and Tom smiled.
“Tell you what. I'll do both of you for a third off.” There was no reply. “Ok, half,” she bargained.
“I can't put you on my expense account,” Tom complained with mock sadness. The girl's smile faded and she moved on.
“What did she mean, aging preppy?” Tom commented looking Brent over.
“I'm forty-three,” Brent said.
“I think that's a perfect age,” Tom said, sipping on his drink.
Brent's house was in Burleith, north of Georgetown and much less expensive. It was a small row house, big enough for a bachelor and beautifully decorated with carefully chosen pieces of art.
“If you hadn't told me, I'd say thirty-three,” Tom commented when he saw Brent's body. It was a lie, of course; but where's the harm? Brent's hair was thinning but he wasn't fat, he was nicely erect, and he was greatly appreciative.
Brent lay on top of Tom. Their hard cocks thrust together and Tom was giving signals he was willing, but at the last minute Brent kissed Tom and said, “You be the top.”
Tom fucked him slowly and with passion. It may have been a while since Brent had last had a cock in him, but he knew what to do and Tom came explosively. As usual he remained hard and deeply lodged in Brent when it was over.
“Are you really a two-timer?” Brent asked. “You don't have to be so gentle,” he said when Tom resumed thrusting. With that encouragement, Tom became a lot more active and stroked Brent's cock as they continued. They both reached orgasm at nearly the same time, with Brent a little in the lead.
This time Tom withdrew when it was over but stayed in an embrace. “I think I'm going to go for a graduate degree in aging preppies, Mr. Michaels, if that's ok with you.”
Brent laughed and said he was starving. He made them a quick frittata. “Beautiful boy,” he said to Tom when they were done.
“I'm not that young,” Tom said. “Thirty is creeping up.”
“If you hadn't told me, I'd have said twenty,” Brent answered.
“Liar,” they both said together and went happily back to bed.
Heiko watched Daegan leave for a date with Cheryl. He thought about his father's suggestion that he go to school in Germany. Secretly pining away for Daegan sure wasn't getting him anywhere. He could finish the term at Stanford and then transfer. German universities were less fussy about transfers than American schools, especially if the student's name was Wittelsbach; it could work. His thoughts were interrupted by a text from Gabriel. Another apology, Heiko groaned inwardly. On the other hand, Gabi wasn't a bad fuck; he was willing enough and didn't get all syrupy afterward. Once more wouldn't hurt. There was a knock on the door Daegan had left ajar and Alex came in.
“I don't have AIDS,” Alex said.
“You sound disappointed. Did you think you did?”
“No, it's hard to explain. What I came for is there's a Kurdish movie showing. It sounds gruesome. Feel like suffering?” Alex invited.
“Ja, gut,” Heiko said with no enthusiasm. He gave Alex a kiss on the cheek and then spent two hours watching the most actionless movie of all time. Six actors sitting around or driving aimlessly talking about loss.
With another hour yet to go, Alex addressed the screen, “Your life sucks; get over it.”
“Shhhh!” came from three irate people sitting near him.
Heiko giggled and squeezed Alex's hand. With about fifteen minutes left of the film, there still was no action, no conflict, and even less dialog. They went back to Heiko's room.
“Now tell me about this AIDS thing, Alex. Why are you so down?”
Alex told Heiko the whole Gareth story and then shrugged. “What should I do? Go look for him?”
“I'll go with you if you want. I could help with the driving. But what are your chances of finding him?”
“Slim and none, I guess.”
“And if you did find him? Then what?” Alex had no answer. “You look forlorn... You know it's almost the same word in German. Verloren.” Heiko thought he detected a tear. “Come here.” He pulled Alex onto his lap.
“What are you doing?” Alex demanded.
“Have I ever given you one of my best kisses?”
“Heiko!” Alex said with confusion. But it was too late. The kiss was prolonged.
“You're a very good kisser.”
“So are you. Nice full lips.”
Then Heiko tickled him and they wrestled onto the floor, back to being the best of old friends. “Did you get a hardon when I kissed you?”
“No.” Alex sounded regretful.
“Neither did I. Too bad, huh?”
Rory,
I saw your update this morning, but knew I didn't have time to read it till later - just some quick posts here and there.
Alex and Heiko - nice kiss but no heat, too bad. They could both use some diversion. I'm glad he's negative. It was probably a blessing running into the acquaintance - if he could learn to let go - I know how hard that can be.
Darren and Tanyelli at the 4 Seasons, Manhattan. A little slow, passionate hetero for a diversion?
The Smithsonian gives them a minor contract. 38,000 items over 6 months in monthly allotments. He was going to see "the rest" of the Museum tomorrow? I presume he meant the rest of ONE of the museums, since it's a huge complex, lol.
A nice, warm update on Cal and Larry.
Thanks for the update.
I saw your update this morning, but knew I didn't have time to read it till later - just some quick posts here and there.
Alex and Heiko - nice kiss but no heat, too bad. They could both use some diversion. I'm glad he's negative. It was probably a blessing running into the acquaintance - if he could learn to let go - I know how hard that can be.
Darren and Tanyelli at the 4 Seasons, Manhattan. A little slow, passionate hetero for a diversion?
The Smithsonian gives them a minor contract. 38,000 items over 6 months in monthly allotments. He was going to see "the rest" of the Museum tomorrow? I presume he meant the rest of ONE of the museums, since it's a huge complex, lol.
A nice, warm update on Cal and Larry.
Thanks for the update.
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Session Sixty-Four
For two days nothing changed. Josh called every defense lawyer who advertised on the wall of the jail and none would take his case. He was called back by an assistant who finally told him the chances of his getting bail before or even after arraignment were zero. It was an election year and all the judges were being firm on the matter of bail for murder suspects. On the third day he was arraigned and formally charged with the murder of Ted Dorrance. He was assigned a public defender and bail was denied. The entire process took about five minutes.
For two nights nothing changed. Roger bent him over the bunk and fucked him. There was no discussion. And when it was over, it was as if nothing had happened. On the third day, when the five minute fuck ended, Roger spoke.
“Stay in the bunk until I fall asleep. Then get in your own bunk.”
They climbed into top bunk; it was crowded with the two of them in it. Both wore boxers and lay quietly. Josh's attempt at a question was met with a “Shhh. Let me sleep.” They lay side by side with Roger closer to the wall. Roger's only motion was to roll onto his side facing the wall. Gradually his breathing became deeper and regular. Josh was ready to climb out of the bunk when he felt Roger or rather Roger's ass press against him. He realized Roger was naked; his bare butt was backed up against Josh's arm making Josh's position in the bunk precarious. He rolled into a spooning position to maximize the available width of the narrow bunk, deliberately designed for one. Now Roger's butt was pressed against his cock.
Josh was briefly panicked thinking Roger would awake unhappy if he found a rapidly hardening cock pressing his ass. But then Roger began a gentle rotating motion, encouraging Josh's reaction. Josh explored a little and found Roger wasn't completely naked; his boxers were around his thighs. His ass was becoming increasingly animated.
Using spit, Josh lubed his cock and pushed it between Roger's cheeks. He let his 'sleeping' cellmate pace the penetration, which was gradual but steady. When he was fully inserted, he pumped until he came. He faced the constant twin worries of either falling out of the bunk or Roger expressing regrets in a violent way; consequently, it wasn't the hottest fuck of his life. Physiologically, however, his body performed competently. When it was over, he got into his own bunk and slept.
The next morning Josh tentatively opened the discussion. “Last night ...”
Roger cut him off. “Do you object?”
“No.”
“Ok, then, I don't think it helps to overanalyze things.” And that was all that Roger had to say on the subject. Instead, he asked Josh if he had ever owned a motorcycle.
Darren and Tanyeli worked a twelve hour day, doing their best to look as fresh at seven at night as they had at seven in the morning. The changes of clothes were constant; the studio was drafty and cold; and they had no time to themselves. With the briefest good-byeTanyeli left the Brooklyn studio for a 9PM flight to Los Angeles.
Darren wondered what to do in the middle of a semi-industrial area of Brooklyn until the text from Nicky. “front door 10 minutes.” Darren was grateful after the long and exhausting day.
“Oh, thank God, Nicky. I was ready to sleep on the floor of the studio.”
“Morrie wants to see you.”
“I'm dirty; I have body makeup on; and I think my clothes are still in your office. Do I have time for a shower?
“Don't worry. I don't think he has any amorous plans for tonight.”
Morrie looked up as they entered his office. “Darren, you look like shit. Well, no matter. The day went well, I'm told. Did you know your brother was going back to work for Forum?
“Z's old company rehired him? I had no idea.”
“They're planning to counter our ads with your brother and a Tanyeli clone. We're not really in competition, but they think Zara using 'their look' will sully their classy image. Classy, my assy. They're lucky to sell a gross each of that overpriced, out of style, Euro-crap … Anyway, I'm gonna build you up a little tomorrow. So, for God's sake, get some sleep. You look like shit … or did I tell you that already? Nicky, do something with him.”
Nicky arranged a shower, a facial, and a massage, which got rid of the makeup and some of Darren's fatigue. “Where are we anyway?” Darren asked. It was a well equipped, but not four-star suite of rooms.
“It's an apartment the company keeps for things like this. Drink this.” Darren looked at the glass suspiciously. “An herbal tea with vitamins, minimal sugar. It won't hurt you and it won't keep you awake, I promise. Are you holding up?”
“Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little tired.” Darren was asleep a minute later. Nicky covered him and turned out the lights. He went into the other bedroom for the night and wished he weren't alone in such a comfortable bed.
“Nicky? What did you mean when you said I could fall in love with you?” Darren asked the next morning over juice, tea, and a bagel.
“Well, couldn't you? It is impossible to imagine? Am I that obnoxious?” Nicky asked with a huge smile on his face. “What are you doing this morning?”
“Yes. No. No. Nothing.”
“There should be some clothes in the closet. Put on some thick sweats and a heavy coat, gloves, maybe a ski cap. We're going to the beach.”
They took the A Train to Rockaway Beach in Queens, on the ocean south of Kennedy Airport. As Nicky predicted it was cold, very cold, but sunny. Even the seagulls looked cold as the walked the sand looking for lunch. Fortunately, the wind was from the northwest and they were somewhat sheltered by buildings across the street. The beach was otherwise deserted, which in New York terms meant that only a couple dozen people were walking nearby. After a good walk and a brisk run they went to a coffee shop to get warm.
“I thought the A Train went to Harlem,” Darren said.
“It does if you go north, but it also goes to Brooklyn and Queens. Very versatile, our A Train. Like you.” That was the first implied criticism Darren had ever heard from Nicky; it stung.
“You think Tanyeli is a mistake?
“Professionally or privately? No really my business either way.” Nicky ordered two hot chocolates.
“I trust your advice, though. You're way smarter.”
“More experienced is what you mean. Professionally, make the most of things. Most models don't last very long. Right now Tanyeli is doing more for you than you are doing for her. Personally … personally … I don't know. If she hasn't hurt you already, she probably won't.”
“Nicky, I'm Morrie's toy. I'm used to being used. I get paid for it. I don't think Tanyeli could ever hurt me.”
“Can anything hurt you? Are you that tough now?”
“I trust you. You could hurt me.”
“Then I'm sorry I let things get a personal. I don't want to hurt you. Back to the travelog, folks,” Nicky addressed an imaginary tour bus.
“This part of town used to be called 'The Irish Riviera', which managed to insult both the town and the Irish. It's actually a great place to live. It's affordable, diverse, fairly safe, and there's a large body of adjacent water. Best of all, it's an hour away from Morrie. I have a little house here that I don't get to see enough of.” A 747 rattled the windows as it flew over. “Now and then you hear an airplane, but nothing's perfect. Drink up, we can walk past my house on the way to the subway.”
Nicky's house was indeed small, but spotless in a area that showed care by its residents.
“If you added a little gingerbread and painted it with four or five more colors, it would look like the old part of Alameda,” Darren commented. “I consider that a compliment, by the way.”
“Two bedrooms and two baths, one of which I added. It'll do for me. I like the beach in the spring and the fall. Summer is a little hot and very crowded.”
“Where are we going now?”
“We don't have time to take the train back. We'll use my car.” Nicky opened a garage door and there sat an Audi TT that showed disuse. “I don't drive in the city much. It's a few years older than yours,” Nicky explained as he wiped dust off the windows.
Morrie was glad to see them. “My two handsome boys, what did you do this morning?”
“We went out to Rockaway. I showed Darren my neighborhood.”
“I don't know why you want to live in way out there, Nicky. You waste so much time coming and going.” Morrie always spoke his mind and Nicky had learned to smile and ignore him. “Don't I pay you enough to live in the city?”
“No, you don't.”
Morrie held his hands up to Darren and shrugged. “All I've done for him … that's the thanks I get … wouldn't you think ...”
An attractive young woman appeared at the door. “They're ready, Mr. Chlomsky.”
Morrie previewed the campaign again to the press, noting that Darren was the younger, up-to-date brother who got the girl, implying that he had stolen Tanyeli from Z and the Forum Company. All Darren had to do was meet-and-greet, grip-and-grin, and tolerate some rude comments from the fashion press. When it was over Nicky dropped Darren at Kennedy and headed for his little cabin in far away Rockaway. I sure fucked up this morning, he thought; am I ever going to this right?
Heiko looked at Alex and thought of their sexless kiss. What was missing, he wondered .
“You heard my story. Why are you all down?” Alex asked. They still sat on the floor and Heiko unloaded with both barrels.
“Dass egoistisch irischen stechen!” and then for Alex's benefit, “That selfish Irish prick! … I mean sexually selfish,” he explained when Alex looked mystified. It all came out. The love and disappointment as well as the specifics of Daegan's fuck-'em-and-shove-'em-away approach to love making. “And he looks so sexy ...” was Heiko's final lament.
Alex rose to his feet and said, “I don't know what to tell you.” He picked up a book and turned to the door. Heiko stood also. To cheer up his friend Alex hugged him and, getting a smile from Heiko, he kissed him again.
“You've grown,” Heiko observed and kissed his friend once more.
Alex's hands went under Heiko's t-shirt and came in contact with warm skin. His touch was gentle but searching and his kiss continued. This time Heiko responded. Alex took the lead with loving, urging fingers, exploring his body, little flicks of his tongue meeting Heiko's, one erection rubbing against another. Alex pulled the t-shirt over Heiko's head and began kissing Heiko's body. With the popping of a couple of buttons, Heiko's jeans fell to the floor and his cock stood out proudly.
Alex pushed him back onto the bed and stripped the jeans from Heiko's ankles. He looked at Heiko, lying back naked with his legs slightly spread. “Your boyfriend doesn't know what he is missing.” Heiko smiled and welcomed Alex into his arms. Alex in turn, made love to Heiko using every trick Gareth had taught him: the fleeting kisses leaving Heiko wanting more; the pressure of hands and body; the affectionate words, and finally the teasing pressure of hard cock against warm anus. Alex pressed and massaged, using only his dick, never penetrating but never letting up. His hands stroked Heiko's cock and then gently pinched his nipples. Kisses, deeper and more demanding, continued. He could hear Heiko moan each time he leaned against him, pressing with his cock
“Alex … oh, Alex … please, do it.” Heiko's eyes were unfocused; he looked lost.
“Do what, Heiko?”
“God! Do it! Fuck me! I can't take any more.”
“Put your hands on my ass and pull me in. You set the pace. You're in charge.”
Heiko's breathing was ragged as he pulled on Alex's ass. Slowly the cock, which felt huge, entered him. When Heiko thought he had it all, Alex thrust even farther making Heiko gasp.
“Ohhh. Sehr gut,” Heiko sighed feeling Alex begin moving in him. He pulled Alex's mouth to his own, needing more. And then the surprise. Alex didn't come. Heiko did, coating their bellies with semen. “Schönen Freund, rüstig Junge ...” Heiko whispered in between kisses. “Beautiful friend, lusty youth ...” It sounded better in German.
They relaxed and Heiko glowed with satisfaction. Then he realized it wasn't over. Alex's erection was still firmly lodged; they began gentle motions again. Heiko found he welcomed the resumption. He felt Alex's need this time as the thrusts became deeper and faster; and then Alex stopped. He began exploring Heiko's body with his insistent touch. Where his fingers went his lips and tongue followed, as far as he could explore without pulling his cock out. Face, neck, shoulders, nipples. His hands revived Heiko's cock, sliding the still sticky skin back and forth.
Heiko felt his own response before Alex did. His cock filled, swelling without yet erecting. His ass welcomed Alex's thrusts. There was a trace of pain this time, a pain that felt so good ...sehr gut … Again he pulled Alex's mouth to his own. The feeling was a melting and a heat. “Fuck me, Alex. Fuck me, baby. Come for me.” Alex's kisses were stinging, painful; the pounding grew harded, jarring Heiko's body, pushing him up the bed with its force. Heiko's last reserve faded away. He tried to open himself more for Alex, give up his body completely. At last Alex came explosively. It seemed like minutes before they could do anything but feel each other's bodies reactions
And it still wasn't over. Alex rearranged their bodies so his legs were folded and Hieko's ass sat in his lap. Heiko's legs were spread, locked around Alex's waist this time. With hands and mouth Alex brought Heiko's cock back to life. Heiko felt harder that he had ever been before. The pressures and wet warmth on his cock, his balls, his pelvis made him explode again, convulsively this time. His pleasure was so different from the first time. He was thrusting into Alex's mouth, fucking into his throat, and Alex took it all.
This time, it was over. Heiko lay back and Alex lay mostly on top of him, letting his weight pin his friend to the bed. They kissed lingeringly, not wanting it to end.
“Ah, fer fook sake!” Daegan almost spat out the words. “Look at the two of you!”
The spent twosome saw Daegan's scowl and then his back as he walked back out of the room.
“Shit,” Alex said.
“Fuck him,” Heiko replied concentrating on Alex. “That was the most spectacular sex I've ever had, Alex. Where did you learn how to do all that?”
Alex welcomed Heiko's embrace and answered, “I just try to read the signs … figure out what you like … and then do it. I come best when you come best.”
“Are we going be lovers?” Heiko sounded perfectly willing.
“No, we're going to be friends, like always. If we became lovers, then we'd become ex-lovers next. That would suck. We can be friends forever. Right?”
“But I'll never forget this. I'll always remember.”
“I hope so. So will I.” With a final kiss, they dressed and things seemed happy in Room 212.
Next door in Room 211, Mario wiped the come off his belly. He loved masturbating to the sounds of those hot guys next door. But who the hell was Alex, he wondered.
For two days nothing changed. Josh called every defense lawyer who advertised on the wall of the jail and none would take his case. He was called back by an assistant who finally told him the chances of his getting bail before or even after arraignment were zero. It was an election year and all the judges were being firm on the matter of bail for murder suspects. On the third day he was arraigned and formally charged with the murder of Ted Dorrance. He was assigned a public defender and bail was denied. The entire process took about five minutes.
For two nights nothing changed. Roger bent him over the bunk and fucked him. There was no discussion. And when it was over, it was as if nothing had happened. On the third day, when the five minute fuck ended, Roger spoke.
“Stay in the bunk until I fall asleep. Then get in your own bunk.”
They climbed into top bunk; it was crowded with the two of them in it. Both wore boxers and lay quietly. Josh's attempt at a question was met with a “Shhh. Let me sleep.” They lay side by side with Roger closer to the wall. Roger's only motion was to roll onto his side facing the wall. Gradually his breathing became deeper and regular. Josh was ready to climb out of the bunk when he felt Roger or rather Roger's ass press against him. He realized Roger was naked; his bare butt was backed up against Josh's arm making Josh's position in the bunk precarious. He rolled into a spooning position to maximize the available width of the narrow bunk, deliberately designed for one. Now Roger's butt was pressed against his cock.
Josh was briefly panicked thinking Roger would awake unhappy if he found a rapidly hardening cock pressing his ass. But then Roger began a gentle rotating motion, encouraging Josh's reaction. Josh explored a little and found Roger wasn't completely naked; his boxers were around his thighs. His ass was becoming increasingly animated.
Using spit, Josh lubed his cock and pushed it between Roger's cheeks. He let his 'sleeping' cellmate pace the penetration, which was gradual but steady. When he was fully inserted, he pumped until he came. He faced the constant twin worries of either falling out of the bunk or Roger expressing regrets in a violent way; consequently, it wasn't the hottest fuck of his life. Physiologically, however, his body performed competently. When it was over, he got into his own bunk and slept.
The next morning Josh tentatively opened the discussion. “Last night ...”
Roger cut him off. “Do you object?”
“No.”
“Ok, then, I don't think it helps to overanalyze things.” And that was all that Roger had to say on the subject. Instead, he asked Josh if he had ever owned a motorcycle.
Darren and Tanyeli worked a twelve hour day, doing their best to look as fresh at seven at night as they had at seven in the morning. The changes of clothes were constant; the studio was drafty and cold; and they had no time to themselves. With the briefest good-byeTanyeli left the Brooklyn studio for a 9PM flight to Los Angeles.
Darren wondered what to do in the middle of a semi-industrial area of Brooklyn until the text from Nicky. “front door 10 minutes.” Darren was grateful after the long and exhausting day.
“Oh, thank God, Nicky. I was ready to sleep on the floor of the studio.”
“Morrie wants to see you.”
“I'm dirty; I have body makeup on; and I think my clothes are still in your office. Do I have time for a shower?
“Don't worry. I don't think he has any amorous plans for tonight.”
Morrie looked up as they entered his office. “Darren, you look like shit. Well, no matter. The day went well, I'm told. Did you know your brother was going back to work for Forum?
“Z's old company rehired him? I had no idea.”
“They're planning to counter our ads with your brother and a Tanyeli clone. We're not really in competition, but they think Zara using 'their look' will sully their classy image. Classy, my assy. They're lucky to sell a gross each of that overpriced, out of style, Euro-crap … Anyway, I'm gonna build you up a little tomorrow. So, for God's sake, get some sleep. You look like shit … or did I tell you that already? Nicky, do something with him.”
Nicky arranged a shower, a facial, and a massage, which got rid of the makeup and some of Darren's fatigue. “Where are we anyway?” Darren asked. It was a well equipped, but not four-star suite of rooms.
“It's an apartment the company keeps for things like this. Drink this.” Darren looked at the glass suspiciously. “An herbal tea with vitamins, minimal sugar. It won't hurt you and it won't keep you awake, I promise. Are you holding up?”
“Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little tired.” Darren was asleep a minute later. Nicky covered him and turned out the lights. He went into the other bedroom for the night and wished he weren't alone in such a comfortable bed.
“Nicky? What did you mean when you said I could fall in love with you?” Darren asked the next morning over juice, tea, and a bagel.
“Well, couldn't you? It is impossible to imagine? Am I that obnoxious?” Nicky asked with a huge smile on his face. “What are you doing this morning?”
“Yes. No. No. Nothing.”
“There should be some clothes in the closet. Put on some thick sweats and a heavy coat, gloves, maybe a ski cap. We're going to the beach.”
They took the A Train to Rockaway Beach in Queens, on the ocean south of Kennedy Airport. As Nicky predicted it was cold, very cold, but sunny. Even the seagulls looked cold as the walked the sand looking for lunch. Fortunately, the wind was from the northwest and they were somewhat sheltered by buildings across the street. The beach was otherwise deserted, which in New York terms meant that only a couple dozen people were walking nearby. After a good walk and a brisk run they went to a coffee shop to get warm.
“I thought the A Train went to Harlem,” Darren said.
“It does if you go north, but it also goes to Brooklyn and Queens. Very versatile, our A Train. Like you.” That was the first implied criticism Darren had ever heard from Nicky; it stung.
“You think Tanyeli is a mistake?
“Professionally or privately? No really my business either way.” Nicky ordered two hot chocolates.
“I trust your advice, though. You're way smarter.”
“More experienced is what you mean. Professionally, make the most of things. Most models don't last very long. Right now Tanyeli is doing more for you than you are doing for her. Personally … personally … I don't know. If she hasn't hurt you already, she probably won't.”
“Nicky, I'm Morrie's toy. I'm used to being used. I get paid for it. I don't think Tanyeli could ever hurt me.”
“Can anything hurt you? Are you that tough now?”
“I trust you. You could hurt me.”
“Then I'm sorry I let things get a personal. I don't want to hurt you. Back to the travelog, folks,” Nicky addressed an imaginary tour bus.
“This part of town used to be called 'The Irish Riviera', which managed to insult both the town and the Irish. It's actually a great place to live. It's affordable, diverse, fairly safe, and there's a large body of adjacent water. Best of all, it's an hour away from Morrie. I have a little house here that I don't get to see enough of.” A 747 rattled the windows as it flew over. “Now and then you hear an airplane, but nothing's perfect. Drink up, we can walk past my house on the way to the subway.”
Nicky's house was indeed small, but spotless in a area that showed care by its residents.
“If you added a little gingerbread and painted it with four or five more colors, it would look like the old part of Alameda,” Darren commented. “I consider that a compliment, by the way.”
“Two bedrooms and two baths, one of which I added. It'll do for me. I like the beach in the spring and the fall. Summer is a little hot and very crowded.”
“Where are we going now?”
“We don't have time to take the train back. We'll use my car.” Nicky opened a garage door and there sat an Audi TT that showed disuse. “I don't drive in the city much. It's a few years older than yours,” Nicky explained as he wiped dust off the windows.
Morrie was glad to see them. “My two handsome boys, what did you do this morning?”
“We went out to Rockaway. I showed Darren my neighborhood.”
“I don't know why you want to live in way out there, Nicky. You waste so much time coming and going.” Morrie always spoke his mind and Nicky had learned to smile and ignore him. “Don't I pay you enough to live in the city?”
“No, you don't.”
Morrie held his hands up to Darren and shrugged. “All I've done for him … that's the thanks I get … wouldn't you think ...”
An attractive young woman appeared at the door. “They're ready, Mr. Chlomsky.”
Morrie previewed the campaign again to the press, noting that Darren was the younger, up-to-date brother who got the girl, implying that he had stolen Tanyeli from Z and the Forum Company. All Darren had to do was meet-and-greet, grip-and-grin, and tolerate some rude comments from the fashion press. When it was over Nicky dropped Darren at Kennedy and headed for his little cabin in far away Rockaway. I sure fucked up this morning, he thought; am I ever going to this right?
Heiko looked at Alex and thought of their sexless kiss. What was missing, he wondered .
“You heard my story. Why are you all down?” Alex asked. They still sat on the floor and Heiko unloaded with both barrels.
“Dass egoistisch irischen stechen!” and then for Alex's benefit, “That selfish Irish prick! … I mean sexually selfish,” he explained when Alex looked mystified. It all came out. The love and disappointment as well as the specifics of Daegan's fuck-'em-and-shove-'em-away approach to love making. “And he looks so sexy ...” was Heiko's final lament.
Alex rose to his feet and said, “I don't know what to tell you.” He picked up a book and turned to the door. Heiko stood also. To cheer up his friend Alex hugged him and, getting a smile from Heiko, he kissed him again.
“You've grown,” Heiko observed and kissed his friend once more.
Alex's hands went under Heiko's t-shirt and came in contact with warm skin. His touch was gentle but searching and his kiss continued. This time Heiko responded. Alex took the lead with loving, urging fingers, exploring his body, little flicks of his tongue meeting Heiko's, one erection rubbing against another. Alex pulled the t-shirt over Heiko's head and began kissing Heiko's body. With the popping of a couple of buttons, Heiko's jeans fell to the floor and his cock stood out proudly.
Alex pushed him back onto the bed and stripped the jeans from Heiko's ankles. He looked at Heiko, lying back naked with his legs slightly spread. “Your boyfriend doesn't know what he is missing.” Heiko smiled and welcomed Alex into his arms. Alex in turn, made love to Heiko using every trick Gareth had taught him: the fleeting kisses leaving Heiko wanting more; the pressure of hands and body; the affectionate words, and finally the teasing pressure of hard cock against warm anus. Alex pressed and massaged, using only his dick, never penetrating but never letting up. His hands stroked Heiko's cock and then gently pinched his nipples. Kisses, deeper and more demanding, continued. He could hear Heiko moan each time he leaned against him, pressing with his cock
“Alex … oh, Alex … please, do it.” Heiko's eyes were unfocused; he looked lost.
“Do what, Heiko?”
“God! Do it! Fuck me! I can't take any more.”
“Put your hands on my ass and pull me in. You set the pace. You're in charge.”
Heiko's breathing was ragged as he pulled on Alex's ass. Slowly the cock, which felt huge, entered him. When Heiko thought he had it all, Alex thrust even farther making Heiko gasp.
“Ohhh. Sehr gut,” Heiko sighed feeling Alex begin moving in him. He pulled Alex's mouth to his own, needing more. And then the surprise. Alex didn't come. Heiko did, coating their bellies with semen. “Schönen Freund, rüstig Junge ...” Heiko whispered in between kisses. “Beautiful friend, lusty youth ...” It sounded better in German.
They relaxed and Heiko glowed with satisfaction. Then he realized it wasn't over. Alex's erection was still firmly lodged; they began gentle motions again. Heiko found he welcomed the resumption. He felt Alex's need this time as the thrusts became deeper and faster; and then Alex stopped. He began exploring Heiko's body with his insistent touch. Where his fingers went his lips and tongue followed, as far as he could explore without pulling his cock out. Face, neck, shoulders, nipples. His hands revived Heiko's cock, sliding the still sticky skin back and forth.
Heiko felt his own response before Alex did. His cock filled, swelling without yet erecting. His ass welcomed Alex's thrusts. There was a trace of pain this time, a pain that felt so good ...sehr gut … Again he pulled Alex's mouth to his own. The feeling was a melting and a heat. “Fuck me, Alex. Fuck me, baby. Come for me.” Alex's kisses were stinging, painful; the pounding grew harded, jarring Heiko's body, pushing him up the bed with its force. Heiko's last reserve faded away. He tried to open himself more for Alex, give up his body completely. At last Alex came explosively. It seemed like minutes before they could do anything but feel each other's bodies reactions
And it still wasn't over. Alex rearranged their bodies so his legs were folded and Hieko's ass sat in his lap. Heiko's legs were spread, locked around Alex's waist this time. With hands and mouth Alex brought Heiko's cock back to life. Heiko felt harder that he had ever been before. The pressures and wet warmth on his cock, his balls, his pelvis made him explode again, convulsively this time. His pleasure was so different from the first time. He was thrusting into Alex's mouth, fucking into his throat, and Alex took it all.
This time, it was over. Heiko lay back and Alex lay mostly on top of him, letting his weight pin his friend to the bed. They kissed lingeringly, not wanting it to end.
“Ah, fer fook sake!” Daegan almost spat out the words. “Look at the two of you!”
The spent twosome saw Daegan's scowl and then his back as he walked back out of the room.
“Shit,” Alex said.
“Fuck him,” Heiko replied concentrating on Alex. “That was the most spectacular sex I've ever had, Alex. Where did you learn how to do all that?”
Alex welcomed Heiko's embrace and answered, “I just try to read the signs … figure out what you like … and then do it. I come best when you come best.”
“Are we going be lovers?” Heiko sounded perfectly willing.
“No, we're going to be friends, like always. If we became lovers, then we'd become ex-lovers next. That would suck. We can be friends forever. Right?”
“But I'll never forget this. I'll always remember.”
“I hope so. So will I.” With a final kiss, they dressed and things seemed happy in Room 212.
Next door in Room 211, Mario wiped the come off his belly. He loved masturbating to the sounds of those hot guys next door. But who the hell was Alex, he wondered.
