Date: Mon, 27 Feb 2012 12:51:44 -0800 (PST)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Steve Buys A Slave, Part Thirty

STEVE BUYS A SLAVE
A story by Pete Brown (petebrownuk@yahoo.com)

Read all of Pete's stories at groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories

PART THIRTY

It was hectic that day.  So much rushing around to do, that I was glad that
the pony Russ wasn't in use and we went back to 'The Towers' and harnessed
him.

I'd seen an old gym out on the North Road with a big 'for sale' sign on it
as of course most young guys now are so busy working - or have been
enslaved - that there's not a lot of call for them.  Amazing what a lot of
cash can do, as I got the realtor to show it to us and sign a contract all
that same day.  Jake was nervous, but I pointed out it was an excellent
base for us - the gym itself could be lined with bunks to house the slaves
we rescued and the 'free men' acting like slaves, and there were ready made
showers and stuff.  There was an office to run the business from, upstairs
some rooms for Jake, Reb, Karl and me to live, and even a small kitchen
where 'treats' could be heated up as an occasional break from slave chow.

We needed to buy bunks, towels and stuff, uniforms for the
'slaves'.... And, I admit, as a symbol of my success in getting started on
the road to recovery, I bought myself a new communicator.  Well not a new
one, exactly: I felt it was a symbol of my maturity that instead of wanting
'the latest' irrespective of price, I selected the one most 'fit for
purpose' at the 'best' price.

The tricky part was going back to the cop shop, though: I needed to talk to
the four army guys who'd been arrested with Karl and Reb, and then to bribe
the cops again - potentially very risky for me.  But the first part proved
surprisingly easy - I asked to see them and the cops agreed as I said my
dad was a lawyer and might be able to help them (more half-truths which
might perhaps prove difficult!).  The four guys laughed at first when I
told them they needed to act as my slaves, but then Reb took over and
explained the realities of life out of the service to them.  I saw him
showing them his brand, and his 'skinned dick, and clearly none of them
seemed to want that!  And they then, very reluctantly, said they would give
it a try.

"OK, strip off, and let me have a good look at you." I told them, and when
they protested I went back and said quietly "This is your only chance, you
know that.  And you've got to agree to act like slaves to save yourselves.
And slaves do as their owner says, and if he says 'strip', they do.  So if
you guys won't get naked now, I take it you won't act like slaves, so the
deal's off."

It was actually pretty arousing to see four men all stripping naked in the
rather small cell, then they all stood there facing me.  "Now jerk off. I
need to be convinced!"

They all stood there, and it was Reb who said "Come on, guys - we're all
men together here.  We all know we jerk off.  You've all done it in your
bunks in the barracks...", but even so I don't think they'd have complied
if he hadn't pulled down his shorts and stood there jerking off in front of
them.

Bribing the cops wasn't all that hard, actually, as I said I wanted to make
another donation, and that surely they didn't want to see 'our valiant
fighting men' enslaved. The two cops looked at each other and I added,
menacingly, "Come on, guys, it's only the same donation as I gave you this
morning, which I'm so proud of I'm thinking of posting to the 'net", and
that was it.

It took a couple of days to get the gym tidied up, bunks bought and
assembled, and stuff like that.  Then using Mrs Farrar as an introduction,
I started what was effectively door-to-door canvassing of the members of
the A A S S to hire the 'ethical slaves' out.  Jake managed to secure a
poor broken-down slave at almost no cost from the 'remnants cage' at S & D
- he'd fallen badly in his owner's gym and they'd reset the leg improperly
so he limped, ruining him for use as a work-out companion.  I agreed with
them selling him off as a 'remnant' actually, as he wasn't any use as a
common labourer either.  And the number of men who'd want a 'pleasure
slave' with a gammy limb was really very limited!  But Jake said he was a
trained masseur, too, and his technique and powerful body meant he was very
good at it, and after he'd recovered his health we soon found a spa who was
willing to rent him from us.

I went to see Ray and Stu with the agreement about our new company, and Stu
was still very worried about Ray and his being passed over.  "I still think
it would be best to start your own practice...", I told them.

"And I've told you I'm not interested in anything other than litigation".
Ray sounded very angry as he said this, and Stu was making frantic gestures
at me to 'cool it'.

"And I've suggested using my dad to do everything else.  He's coming up for
auction early next week..."

"Can't you get it into your skull that he can't?  A slave isn't allowed to
execute legal instruments..."

"Ray, listen... Dad can be the guy who has all the ideas, who does all the
work.... And I could be the 'front', executing the deeds, etc."

Ray was almost shouting now.  "But you're not a certified lawyer, admitted
to the bar.  Only they can do some of it.  And it takes five years of
training to get there. And we don't have five years!"

"If we could do it in three months, then would you do it?"

"You can't...."

"Ray, will you, or won't you?  Answer the question!".

Ray shrugged. "Yes, if you get admitted to the New York bar within three
months then I will partner with you, with your dad doing all the boring
stuff..."

"So can I borrow some more cash, please, Stu, so I can buy my dad next
week?"

Stu roared with laughter. "You never give up, do you, Steve?  But sure -
another thousand?  Be careful, mind, if it all doesn't work out I'll
requisition you as a slave to offset the debt... And you know we always
like young guys like you around here... But you can't actually buy your own
father, so it will need to be our company that does it."

"I'll risk becoming your slave, OK?  And, Ray, one of the advantages of
being technologically literate like me is that I've found out that there
are fantastic remote presence classes in law from the University Of Lima.
And under the 'fair Americas act' the State Of New York accepts as valid
law degrees from the University of Lima as ground for admittance to the
bar."

"And how exactly does that help?"

"Normally they're five year courses.  But with the 'distance presence' I
can go to most of the lectures on a very compressed time scale.  And dad's
a whizz at law and can write all the term papers, answer all the questions
in the exams... We can easily compress the time to three months."

It was funny going to the auction to see dad being sold off.  He looked a
lot leaner and fitter than he had a few months before, as a result of his
mandatory initial training.  And fortunately he was not displayed nude as
he was in the 'older slaves' category; and neither had his excellence at
law been recognised, as he was catalogued as a 'general labourer'.  We did
see one middle-aged woman have dad taken off to a private viewing room,
though, and when he came back to the general display area he looked very
red, and there seemed to be some sort of stains on the front of his display
shorts - afterwards dad told Reb, but wouldn't discuss it with me, how
humiliating it was to have to strip for some bitch who was thinking of
taking an older slave as a 'bed toy', and then having to jerk off in front
of her so she could assess his suitability, with the guard threatening him
with the prod if he refused.

After that, life was a bit of a blur for three months as I put all my
efforts into 'attending' a minimum number of lectures whilst dad worked on
my term papers and exams, but I did graduate at the end of it.  And a month
later I was admitted to the bar, and Masters and Johnson started business
as Ray resigned from his old firm.

It was all working out quite well - our four 'slaves' were used to do up
the offices we hired.  I told Ray it was no time to skimp on appearances,
so we hired a whole floor of a plush skyscraper even though we really
needed only two offices, then had the slaves pretend to be associates and
so on whenever a new client came calling - as indeed they did, as Ray's
fame was well known, and as Stu 'suggested' to companies in whom his fund
invested that Masters and Johnson was a good corporate law firm to use.
Dad was kept excessively busy doing all the legal stuff, which I then
signed and so on.

Somehow, in all this activity, with all our efforts engaged on our
businesses, Jake and I started to drift apart.  He had no real interest in
the 'false slaves' but wanted us to divert all our efforts and resources
into rescuing more of the poor unfortunate creatures from S & D's scrap
bin.  I pointed out we could afford to do only a limited number of these,
and then the blow fell - congress refused to amend the constitution to
allow 'warrior' slaves to be armed, so the Pentagon had to cut back on its
plans for a mass dismissal of soldiers and marines, so we had no new ready
source of 'false slaves'.  And without a supply of 'false slaves' to hire
out, we had no capital to invest in acquiring and 'restoring' those from
the scrap heap.

I was making good money by now as Ray's partner and told Jake we were
giving up slave trading all together so we could spend more time together
and have more fun.  I even found and played for him that fantastic ska
number:

Enjoy yourself, it's later than you think Enjoy yourself, while you're
still in the pink The years go by, as quickly as you wink Enjoy yourself,
enjoy yourself, It's later than you think

"You don't take my rescuing slaves seriously, do you, Steve?"

"Yes, of course I do.  But you don't need to.  I'm making more than enough
money...."

"There you are!  You don't understand - I DO need to!  It's tragic to see
all these poor guys on the scrap heap, when with a bit of care and
attention they..."

"...they'd still be slaves."

"But slave with a proper role, slaves who can live a noble life...."

"Oh please!  You'll be saying they're just like us soon...."

"They are, Steve, they are just like us... They're men...."

"No, Jake.  They're slaves.  They gave up the right to be men when they
were enslaved."

And so it went on.  At some point I stormed out and went to work, and when
I came back twelve hours later - we were growing the business rapidly at
that point, and there was a potentially tricky situation with a new client
that I had to deal with - there was no Jake.

It was so fucking stupid.  I was so busy, and I was in the right, anyway.
So why should I apologise to him and make up a stupid quarrel?  He needed
to make the first move.

Of course I bitterly regretted that later, when it was too late. But it
taught me a very valuable lesson that it doesn't matter who's right or
who's wrong - if you want to make a deal, you need to compromise and
someone has to make the first move.  That's one of the reasons why I think
I'm such an ace lawyer and excellent negotiator.

Somehow the pain of not seeing Jake, not having him in my bed, was eased by
the excessively long hours I worked at that time, and of course there was
always Reb when I really needed to fuck - not that it was all that often,
as I was so totally exhausted most of the time.  But Masters and Johnson
grew, and grew, and grew as I had a real talent - inherited from dad, I
suppose - for cutting a good deal for our clients, and if it ever did go
wrong, Ray could argue us out of it.

Our story is one of continuous expansion, which has continued to this day,
as we shall hear.

AUTHOR'S AFTERWORD from Steve Masters.

When I wrote the above work it was intended to be the first part of my
autobiography.  The second part would have focussed on my continuing rise
to power and my success, telling how Masters And Johnson became the largest
corporate law firm in the country, and how we were poised for overseas
expansion using as our base our offices in London, Paris, Frankfurt,
Stockholm, Madrid and Brussels.

But I now know that I shall never write a 'part two', and I think I owe it
to my readers to briefly summarise 'what happened next'.

It was one night in August about twenty years after the events described
above took place.  I was annoyed to see that I was to attend some sort of
corporate dinner as a fundraiser for the A A S S and was angry at my
personal assistant for having accepted the invitation.  "It's because we
are a corporate sponsor, sir, and they are in their usual difficulty for
finding sufficient funds and so we agreed that you would be the keynote
speaker: there are going to be several CEOs of major corporations there -
some of whom are not yet clients - and you emphasised at the recent
partners' meeting how important it was to 'be seen' and to miss no
opportunity to widen our influence... Under the circumstances we could
hardly refuse, and of course Mr Johnson never does these kind of things..."
I sighed, as of course he was right.  It's one of the penalties of being
Managing Partner - I need to uphold the standards I set for the firm, and I
knew there was never any
 chance of getting Ray to go instead of me as part of our 'deal' struck all
those years ago was that he would keep his rhetoric for the courtroom, as
he wanted to do nothing else other than lead the litigation team.  I could
see that my assistant was looking anxious, though, and I reassured him that
it was not such a burden and that someone on the staff should write a
suitable short speech for me - he handed it to me immediately, and I
smiled: he's being groomed for a junior partner's position, and acting as
my assistant is valuable training for him, and I had no doubt he'd spent an
hour or so the previous night writing it.  That's one of the advantages of
using free men as assistants rather than slaves - their ambition can make
them work extraordinarily long and hard, far more than you can achieve by
threats of whipping and punishment with a slave.  And of course when we go
to meetings with clients it is particularly impressive to be able to take
 several of them as a subtle hint of my own status and power.

The meeting was at one of those enormous hotels downtown and so it wasn't
particularly arduous after all - my own penthouse is on Central Park West,
so it's not a long journey and I had plenty of time for several important
phone calls as my slaves helped me into my immaculately cut Italian styles
tuxedo made out of silk and cashmere: I've always retained a vague interest
in fashion and style, and my personal tailor well understands my tastes and
the importance I attach to perfection.  It's not so very difficult to be
immaculately turned out when you have several slaves to look after your
clothes, and I do think that my position demands a certain show and
elegance - although only last week I had to order one of the slaves to be
caned when he put the incorrect cufflinks into that morning's shirt.

The fundraiser was being hosted by one of those 'society hostesses' who do
this sort of thing as a career, and she immediately focussed all her
attention on me as I arrived as she knew where the money was that night.
She'd been speaking to someone else, and as she turned, to my astonishment
I saw it was Jake!

"Mr Masters, do you know...."

"Yes, we are old... Old friends..."  I paused and stuck out my hand "Hullo,
Jake,... It's been a long time...."

"It surely has, Steve...."

We had no chance to say more as the wretched woman whirled me away to meet
many other people, and I remembered what my purpose was in being there and
spent the next forty five minutes generally 'working the room' and renewing
and making important contacts.

Jake and I were on the top table of course as he was to give some sort of
speech on behalf of the A A S S, but I had no opportunity to speak to him
as the hostess sat in-between us and constantly made a stream of small talk
as only women in that position can.  Finally Jake got to make his speech -
and very rousing it was, following the usual patter: a 'real life' incident
recounting the life of some wretched slave or other, how the A A S S
rescued him, and how the slave was now leading a fulfilled life; followed
by a plea for corporate support for their good work.

It was my turn then, and I glanced at my prepared speech and screwed it
into a ball and threw it down.  "Ladies and Gentlemen", I began.  "It has
been many years since I had personal experience of the tremendous work that
Jake and the A A S S does for slaves.  And I say 'personal' in the true
sense of the word: Jake and I worked together in those halcyon days of our
youth to rescue several poor creatures, and I think it was this experience
that led Jake to throw his energy and his life into this vital work.  I
admire him enormously for it, as I know it involved many, many personal
sacrifices."  I looked at him with a 'significant' look as I said the last
few words.

"As Jake was doing this I was building Masters And Johnson into today's
pre-eminent corporate law firm, and our careers have both taken so much
time that we had little time for personal contact.  It is therefore a
particular pleasure to share this platform with him tonight, and to be able
to pay tribute to him in front of so many important officers of our
country's greatest corporations.  We should never forget that all of us in
this room owe our prosperity and success to the system of slavery that
keeps our society safe and which enriches us - it is, after all, not so
very long ago that at an evening such of this we would have been concerned
with rising tides of violence in our cities, and of the erosion of our
prosperity as other countries undercut our manufacturing.  Slavery fixed
both of these issues - who now commits violent crime?  And who can compete
with a robust manufacturing base with almost zero labour costs?"

I paused to let the applause and cries of "Quite right" die down.  "At the
same time, though, we all know of instances where slaves are not treated
well.  Those of us here will of course understand that this is foolish - it
is the mis-use of assets, as an ill-used slave cannot function properly,
and will have his capital value reduced.  But there are others in society
who are not as sensible and as concerned for the bottom line as we all are,
and who wilfully mistreat slaves.  And this is where Jake's valuable
organisation the A A S S comes in: by rescuing these poor creatures he not
only contributes to the economic success of our society, but he makes us
all feel better: that as free men we can value slaves for what they are."

There was a lot more applause now, and I had to wait a few seconds before
continuing.  "In coming here tonight I had planned to harangue you all to
increase your corporate donations to the A A S S - remembering, obviously,
that these are completely tax deductible..."  There was gentle laughter
around the room.

"But in seeing Jake tonight I am minded to do something more tangible.  So
I am pleased to announce that Masters And Johnson will be donating an
additional one million new dollars to the A A S S - and I emphasise that
this is additional, new money, to enable them to further enhance their
valuable work."

Cheering went around the room now, and I held up my hand for silence.  "So
in conclusion, I urge each and every one of you here to do the same.  And,
of course, to bring your corporate legal business to us, so that we can
afford it!"

I sat down to a veritable storm of applause and cheering.

Any of you who has ever done any of this sort of stuff will know that
there's a lot that then has to be done.  My assistant first of all
whispered "Are you sure, sir?  Doesn't corporate charitable donation
require the approval of the partners' meeting?" to which I replied "Yes,
formally it does.  But you should remember that Mr Johnson and I still own
eighty percent of the partnership equity, as other partners receive only
one share each on appointment.  And Mr Johnson and I will be in complete
agreement on this."

There were then the inevitable press interviews as this was a very sizeable
donation, as you will understand, and finally the morning news TV show
wanted to record a brief 'insert' where Jake and I shook hands and I handed
over a symbolic 'cheque' (it's funny how that usage has persisted, even
though actual cheques disappeared long, long ago).

Those TV idiots can never make anything simple, though, and it requires
endless amounts of time to 'set up' and then several attempts to 'get it
right'.  Jake and I had to stand there shaking hands and smiling at each
other for ages.  And, as we did so, I felt the pressure of Jake's hand on
mine and the touch of his skin, I saw the twinkle in his eyes and the way
the corners of his mouth turned up as he smiled, and I was dragged back to
those happy days when we had meant so much to each other.  I felt tears
welling in my eyes and had to make a heroic effort to keep my own smile
fixed rigidly on my face.

We had no time to speak to each other as our staffs whisked each of us away
at the end, and I went back to my apartment and stood there almost in a
dream as my slave helped me to bed.  Sleep eluded me, though, and I reached
for my personal communicator: it felt so comfortable in my hands and I've
had it all these years as it's almost like a good luck charm for me, not
that I believe in rubbish like that, of course.  But it was the first thing
I truly bought for myself as I started upwards after all the disaster of
dad's enslavement, and I have clung to it.  My assistants carry around the
'real' one, for business, of course so that they can filter calls and so
on, and this one therefore almost never gets used as there are so few
'personal' things that I ever do.  I lay there looking at it, then muttered
'Call Jake'.

Surely it couldn't work after all these years, I thought - I'm being silly.
He must have changed his number and so on.  But I guess technology fixes
these things, as the display indicated that the call was connecting.

"Steve?"  Jake's voice was its usual calm assured self.

"I wasn't sure I could still contact you this way.  And your communicator
still knows it's me...."

"Do you think I'd erase you, ever?"

"I wasn't sure... It's been a long time."  I paused.  "And we didn't part
on the best of terms..."

I heard the amusement on Jake's voice, as I had so often before.  "You
always had a way with words, Steve, and I see it hasn't left you."

"Yes.  It makes me a lot of money."

"You didn't need to buy me with all that money tonight, you know."

"Jake, you know that's stupid.  Do you think I'd think that money would
influence you?  It never did in the past, and I don't suppose you've
changed."

"So why....?"

"The question is 'why not'?  It doesn't mean anything to me as I've got
more than I can ever spend.  So if it helps you...  But look, this is
stupid.  Our last conversation was all about money, as I recall.  Can we
have another one, about things that really matter?"

"Oh, you have changed, Steve... Things that really matter other than
money...."

"Jake, please don't.  And, yes, perhaps I have changed.  But this is a
terrible way for old friends... lovers... to deal with each other.  Can we
meet?"

"Why?"

"Jake, stop fucking around.  I know you felt it too - when we shook
hands...."

The silence went on for what seemed for ever.  But I knew that if I said
anything the spell would somehow be broken.  So I held myself in check,
hardly daring to breathe.  Finally I heard "Well I'm very busy, and I know
you must be, too..."

"Cancel it.  Cancel everything.  I will."

"Steve, I can't do that.  You may have armies of people who can take over,
but me..."

"I'm sorry, Jake.  But we have to meet.  How about Sunday?  I don't suppose
those ladies who support the A A S S need you to work on Sundays.... Come
out to Scarsdale...."

"Where, what time?"

"It doesn't matter where.  Any train - I'll have a pony waiting...."

"Steve, you do remember what I' remembering now, don't you?"  I heard the
laughter in his voice again.

"Of course I do!  And the pony will be wearing a neat tunic and shorts -
although if it's a hot day that does seem a bit cruel and he won't welcome
it - I do remember you being angry at me as my pony didn't have a blanket
in the winter - so perhaps you won't mind if he's only in a pony pouch in
the summer?"

Jake laughed again.  Said "Sunday, then, in the morning", and the
communicator went dead.

I actually went to Scarsdale on the last train on Saturday night as I was
determined hat everything should go well for Jake's visit.  I don't live
there permanently as pressure of business makes it so much more convenient
to have my penthouse in the city, but I had persuaded Ray and Stu to move
out of 'The Towers' and buy dad's old place, and then in the fullness of
time I'd had a new wing built that was effectively 'mine'.

Ray and Stu were laughing almost all morning as I fussed around commanding
the slaves to make everything perfect, and continued to chide me as I paced
up and down scanning the drive for a pony and trap - indeed I was so
distracted that I was even quite sharp with my assistant when he called to
ask me if I wanted to speak with some Arab clients who were of course
working as it was Sunday.

Finally, at about eleven, Jake did arrive.  I met him at the front door and
explained about Ray and Stu, and led him through the house and out to the
pool where they were sitting with the morning papers and coffee.  It was
all very convivial then and having the two of them there as they had been
at several of our earlier meetings did help to get us talking again.  But I
saw Jake's eyes open with astonishment as Reb came out of the gym complex
and loped towards us.

He's still in fantastic shape as he spends so much time exercising and he's
always had a healthy diet - and, I guess, he's had no real worries.  I
sometimes think it's stress that makes you feel old, and as slave Reb had
none of the pressures that I was under every day.  He's a bit vain, though
- I know that the flat, ridged belly above the tiny shorts leads down to
now totally shaved pubes: once he started to go grey he no longer simply
clipped them neatly but extended the shaving of his balls to take in the
whole area.  And I suspect he 'touches us' the hair on his chest so that
it's still slickly black.

He and Jake embraced, and I felt a real pang of jealousy as the two men
were in such intimate contact with each other, and I wanted it to be my
hands on Jake's shirt, my crotch pressing in to his.

"I though you'd have sold Reb long ago!", Jake started.

"How could I do that?  He's the first thing I ever owned, the first thing I
ever bought with my own money rather than dad's, the first slave I ever
caned, the first guy I ever had sex with...."

"The first guy you ever raped!", Reb added, laughing. We'd long ago got
over that.

"He keeps me fit.... Or tries to...", I added.  "And..."

At that moment a lithe bronzed naked boy ran out of the gym complex and
executed a perfect dive in to the pool.  "I see you still prefer young
slaves...", Jake remarked to Stu.

"Well, actually, yes.  But none of them have ever really lived up to the
example set by you and Steve".  Stu winked at me as he said this, and we
all smiled.  "But that's not a slave..."

With that totally unselfconscious ease that only really young slim guys can
pull off, the boy in the pool hauled himself up on to the side and in the
same liquid movement raised himself to his feet and stretched luxuriantly.
Then, scratching absentmindedly at his armpit he strode over towards us,
his dick bouncing up and down.

"Dad!  When you're here you're never around at this time, you're always on
the phone..."

I hugged him, oblivious of the fact that my silk shirt was getting spoiled
by the water on his body.  Then I turned.  "Jake, this is Stevie... My son.
And Stevie, this is Jake - an old friend.  A very old friend."

Stevie stuck his hand out, and I watched as Jake took it, astonished.  "How
do you do, sir?", Stevie asked, and then turned to me "Dad, why didn't you
say you knew the Chairman of A A S S - you know how I admire their work,
how much I want to work for them...."

"Steve, I didn't know....", Jake began.  "But look at him.... He's just
like you..."

"Just like I was at his age, you mean, Jake.  Well, actually Stevie's only
sixteen, so he's younger than when we met.  But he's growing into a fine
man..."

 I turned and added "And, Stevie, I've told you before - after college
you're going to be a lawyer, not work for a charity. And I think you ought
to put some shorts on!  If you continue to prance around like that you'll
make Ray and Stu envious and get them thinking they ought to go off and buy
another young slave...."

"Sure, dad...."

Jake was still standing there looking totally amazed.  "I think you need a
beer...", I told him.

So we went into the house.  "How... Why...."? He managed to ask.

"Well Ray and Stu got tired of 'The Towers', and it is past its best now.
And our old place came up for sale so they moved here... And I felt
nostalgic, and Ray's my business partner, so we all agreed I could build
the new wing.  And it seemed good to let Reb look after the grounds and
stuff - I hadn't got the heart to sell him - and it's pretty good, isn't
it?  He's magnificent, for an older guy..."

"No, Steve!  Your son....  How did you get a son?"

"The usual way, Jake.  I fucked a woman...."

"Who, why...?"

"You know I was always close to my dad.  And it really hurt when he
died. So I wanted a son.  And it's not hard to find a woman of breeding
who's short of money... She had to be a free woman of course, as I wanted
no suggestion that Stevie should be a slave.  So I found someone, we
married, I fucked her, she got pregnant, we aborted a girl, I fucked her
again... And then there was Stevie, and I divorced her.  Simple,
really. She got paid - very well paid - and I got a son.  There was a messy
bit where she sued me, but I am a hotshot lawyer, you know, and the pre-nup
was watertight. And Stevie's turning out pretty well, as you can see - very
athletic: that's Reb's influence - and a top performer at school.  And I've
already started making huge donation to dad's old college so that when he's
ready to got to college he'll be assured of a place, and at dad's old
frat...."

"Fuck me, Steve!  You're trying to re-create history - this is where I came
in, with you wanting to buy a slave to take to the frat..."

"And I never did go, did I?  But I've still got the slave. And I met you,
but I lost you..."

Jake looked at me, and I looked at him.  "It was stupid, wasn't it?  To
quarrel over slavery?"

"There's an important point of principle at stake, Steve...."

"Jake, please.... Not after all this time."  I had to stop as I could feel
tears welling up inside me.  "It was stupid, Jake.  We could both hold our
own points of view, and when we did quarrel we should have settled it, but
we're both too headstrong.  And we've wasted all these years.  Are we going
to go on like that?"

The silence seemed endless.  And I've told you before how I've trained
myself not to re-start saying things in situations like this until I've had
the other person's reaction.

I thought I'd lost it, as Jake said nothing and began to move.  But it was
to move towards me.  Then he threw his arms around me and kissed me, and it
was like the first time.  No, it was so much better than the first time, as
we both knew exactly what to do.  And within seconds we were tearing the
clothes off each other, desperate to feel even more of our bodies pressed
against each other.  We stumbled into my bedroom and I pushed Jake
backwards on to my bed - it seemed only fair, as that first time it was him
who pushed me onto his bed....

We never got our lunch.  And Ray and Stu were sensible enough not to come
looking for us.  And some time mid-afternoon after I'd fucked him so slowly
and yet so passionately, I gently pinched the skin on Jake's belly.  "It's
as well we didn't eat lunch - you'll need to get rid of this if you're
going to be my lover."

"It's OK for you, Steve - a huge gym here, and Reb..."

"I don't normally live here, as I said.  My penthouse is on Central Park,
so it's quick to get to the office... It's all down to my iron will -
running every morning..."

"But your son's here?"

"Of course.  It's a good school, and a boy needs space...."

"But who looks after him..."

"Reb, of course!  Always has.  He's got a way with controlling younger guys
- comes from that background of his in the marines..."

"So Jamie's not really your son..."

"Don't be stupid!  Of course he is!  I told you, I made the supreme
sacrifice, and fucked a bitch.  And I had this wing built...."

"But Reb's brought him up..."

"Jake, I've been working !  You don't get to be head of the largest
corporate law firm, starting from scratch, and then try to bring up a kid
in your none-existent spare time... And, in any case, Reb's mine, remember?
So I tell him what to do, and he does it.  It's just the same as doing it
myself, only better."

"Does Stevie think that?  Or would he rather have had a dad who was
around...?"

"What a stupid question.  Look at what I've been able tot give him.  Look
at what he's going to get.  And it never did me any harm - dad was always
in the city..."

"Didn't it, Steve?  Never did you any harm?"

"Jake, that's the problem with you.  You're never prepared to accept the
best option - in this world a guy needs a good education and money, and
that's what Stevie will have.  And it's not as if he hasn't been well
looked after, well brought up: in fact he's got a bonus as he's got a
father who loves him, and Reb."

"You should have spent more time with him, Steve..."

"Stop moralising, will you!  And perhaps if you'd stayed with me things
might have been different...."

"It wasn't me who left, Steve..."

We lay there, side by side.  Now angry.  But I'd learned my lesson.  This
time I leaned over and kissed Jake again, deeply.  When we broke off I
whispered "Shall we always do this?  Kiss properly when we've been
quarrelling, and not march away...."

After we'd talked some more, and showered, we went back out to the pool.
When we announced we were together again Ray and Stu ordered the slaves to
bring champagne.  Then Stevie came and put his arm around me.  "Dad, it's
OK to love another guy then, is it?"

"Of course it is!  Look at Ray and Stu..."

"So I've been thinking, dad.... You keep on about going to college, but I
want to do something more exciting. There's this guy at school I really
like and he's got a great idea for going into buying and selling slaves,
and I think it would be more exciting to be a slave dealer than a
lawyer..."

I couldn't see why Reb and Jake found it so funny when I started to say
that I wanted him to have a respectable profession.

Later that night Jake took my old communicator.  "You really are
sentimental, aren't you, Steve, underneath that hard exterior you put up.
Keeping Reb, keeping this..."

"They're the only things I started with, you know that, after dad's
stupidity..."

"So what are we going to do now, Steve?  Once you're resigned as managing
partner..."

"...and you've resigned as chairman of the A A S S."

Jake fiddled with my communicator, and then there came out of it that song
we used to play in those early turbulent times....

It's good to be wise when you're young
'Cos you can only be young but the once
Enjoy yourself and have lots of fun
So glad and live life longer than you've ever done

Enjoy yourself, it's later than you think
Enjoy yourself, while you're still in the pink
The years go by, as quickly as you wink
Enjoy yourself, enjoy yourself,
It's later than you think

"Sounds good to me!", Jake said.  And for once I didn't argue with him.

THE END

Pete Brown.  The Alps, London, Copenhagen and Brussels.  January and
February 2012