Date: Tue, 25 Jul 2000 12:39:39 -0700 (PDT)
From: Orrin Rush <orrinrush@yahoo.com>
Subject: Story Addition

Disclaimer:  The following is a work of fiction.  If you are offended
by graphic descriptions of homosexual acts, go somewhere else.

Copyright c 2000 by Orrin C. Rush.  All rights reserved.

Neither this story nor any parts of it may be distributed
electronically or in any other manner without the express, written
consent of the author.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance of the characters to
anyone living or dead is pure coincidence and not intended.  They are
all products of the author's imagination.



                      THE LIFEGUARD

                       Chapter 22

A Japanese businessman friend of mine had told me that in order to
avoid Jet-Lag, he got into a swimming pool as soon as he could after
landing.  Not swimming, but letting the buoyancy of the water restore
his equilibrium.  I decided to try it.

As soon as we got home, Eric and I got into the pool.  This may have
helped, but I was still a zombie for a week.  Eric was no better off.

That didn't matter.  We both still had work to do.  I took it easy,
handling routine stuff that had piled up.  Eric didn't have that
luxury, and was immediately into a frenzy of activity.

The mergers that Eric had initiated had all gained stockholder
approval, but there were still lots of details to be worked out.
That responsibility fell on Eric.  Whenever a problem would crop up
over some detail, he provided the grease to get things back on track.

He literally commuted up and down the West Coast with occasional side
trips to Denver to smooth feathers there.  He made his monthly trip
to New York, and again spent more time there than I liked.

It certainly wasn't that I didn't trust him.  Selfishly, I just
wanted him around.

On our trip, I'd noticed that Eric bought several excellent
reproductions of ancient Cycladic sculpture.  We'd discussed them at
the time, but when we got home, nothing more was said, and they
disappeared.  I gave this a little thought, but didn't dwell on it.
It was uncharacteristic of Eric, and I guess I was more curious than
anything else.

The small appliances that Metalco produced were sold under several
brand names, covering everything from the low end to the very high
end of the market.  We were also known for our innovation and keeping
up with the latest technologies and designs.

Our design team took a hard look at Milton's products and came up
with some new design concepts.  When they felt they were ready, they
got the sales group together and made a presentation.  Bill and I sat
in.

They explained that their starting point had been the box that Milton
made that housed computer central processing units.  Since the
inception of the personal computer, these had been grey or beige
rectangular boxes that either laid flat or on edge, and had not
changed in the last 25 years except for the Apple I-Macs.

They were functional but not very pretty.  They proposed to change
all that.

The first step was to add some color.  A display of the usual
rectangular cases in a variety of solid colors and woodgrain finishes
was unveiled.  They were a definite improvement over the usual ones.

Next, matching monitors were added.  Then keyboards.  Then printers
and scanners.  This was definitely getting MY interest!

"Why stop there?" the presenter asked.

More CPU cases came out in a number of shapes.  Cubes, round and
free-form, again in a variety of finishes.

"Monitor cases, printer cases and scanner cases are all mostly metal,
our specialty," it was explained. "Keyboards are plastic, but
changing the finish would be easy."

Then came the bottom line.  "Will these sell?"

I was impressed, but wanted to hear the reaction of our sales people.
Some were wildly enthusiastic, others wanted to "think about it."
That was understandable.  It was a revolutionary concept, and would
require a selling job, probably starting with top of the line systems,
then, with volume and reduced costs, hopefully become everyday items.

One selling point that I saw immediately was that it was "new" and
once introduced, users would just "Have to Have" one.  This would
generate new sales for computer makers, our customers.

The concept was batted around in all the departments that had any
involvement - from sales to production.  The conclusion that most
reached was that we had to offer a "complete package".  CPU, monitor
keyboard and printer that all matched.

The CPU's we had under control.  We already made them and had a good
market share.

There were only one or two "names" in the monitor field, the market
being pretty fragmented without anyone dominating it.  Who would we
approach with our concept and how?

Only a few printer manufacturers led the field.  Again, how would we
approach them?

Keyboards were made by a lot of companies.  We could either talk one
into changing the finish on their plastic, or contracting with them
to make some for us.

We put a team to work researching every company making each of these
products.

Before we spent too much time and money on the idea, Sales wanted to
try out the concept with some of Milton's more agressive customers.

                              - - - - -

Tina was getting close to having a presentation on the New
Headquarters building ready, Annie wasn't around a lot.  I'd heard
that Kevin had gotten his own apartment, and Eric had slowed down his
pace to just a dead run.

He spent a lot of time traveling, and when he announced another trip
to New York "for a few days", I got jealous.

"I want you to go with me," he told me.  "No, I demand that you go
with me this time.  I've even got a reason."

"And what would that be?" I asked cautiously, knowing that he wasn't
above coming up with something outlandish or off the wall.

"Jerry would like to talk to you.  Says he's going to proposition
you."

"I didn't think he was into guys, but what the hell, he's kinda cute."

"Asshole," he broke in, exasperated but smiling.  "He's got a
business deal he wants to talk about with you.  He's straight, too.
Wifey, kiddies, the whole thing."

"Bet he's got a nice dick, too," I said, not letting my fun stop.

"Is that all you ever think about?"

"You betcha," I told him.  "Particularly when I have the world's most
perfect example staring me right in the face.  Can I suck it?"

"You're impossible," he groaned, still smiling.  "Will you go with
me?"

"I'll go if you'll cum," I said with a straight face.  "Get over here
and let me atcha."

Talking to Jerry was a good enough excuse for me.  I hadn't been out
of town in a while, and New York might be fun.  It was Fall, and if
we could, I'd like to drive up to New England and see the Fall colors.

We flew commercial, on Eric's expense account.  Metalco now had two
small jets.  We'd added another, leased, until the G5 on order would
be ready for delivery.  As busy as they seemed to be, we'd probably
end up with 3, and the guys were already looking for more pilots.

Eric made all the arrangements.  I sat back and enjoyed.  On the way
into Manhattan, I asked "Where are we staying?"

"Some sleazy dump," he said, his eyes sparkling.  "I think you'll
like it.  Something different for a change."

It was obvious that something was "up".  Eric loved surprising me,
but this was the first indication that he had something planned for
this trip.

"Just as long as there aren't any bedbugs.  I've got a tender butt."

"I know," he grinned.  "Tight too!"

The limo pulled up to the curb.  It wasn't a hotel but there was a
doorman to help us out of the car.  We went into the lobby and to the
elevators.  Eric pushed "P" at the top of the buttons.

We came out in a small paneled vestibule.  There were two doors, one
small, the other large and ornately carved.  Eric went to the big one
and opened it with a key.

"Come on," he said urgently.  His excitement was very noticeable, and
I followed obediently.

First a marble floored foyer, then a short hallway, then a large room
paneled in glass with a breathtaking view of the New York skyline.

I turned to him, asking "What is this?"  Before he could answer, I
looked beyond him and saw a Cycladic sculpture perfectly placed.  My
mouth fell open.  I knew.

He saw my reaction.  "It's ours."

I pivoted to take it all in, then took him in my arms.  "It's
magnificent." I told him, sincerely meaning it.

He broke our embrace.  "Let me show you around."  I followed.

He was as excited as a little kid.  He had reason to be.  It was a
spectacular place, and the rooms that were complete were beautifully
decorated.  In the master bedroom, he patted the huge bed.  "Virgin,
never been slept in," he said, "Or....either, but that's going to
change real fast."

While he made us drinks, I had a chance to really look over the room
with the fabulous view.  Warm colors had been used, browns, oranges
and reds.  My favorite - I'm not a "cool" color type person, and
obviously Eric wasn't either.

We may have had similar tastes, but Eric's personality was stamped on
the place.  Nice clean lines, orderly but inviting.  It would take me
some time to get comfortable here, but I would make an effort.  Eric
had gone through that process when he'd moved in with me, I'm sure.

"Do you like it?" he asked as he set down our drinks.

"I'm overwhelmed," I told him, taking him into my arms.   "How the
hell did you do all this so quietly?"

"I had a lot of help."

"I can bet, Sarah!"

"She directed traffic," he said.  "I picked everything out myself.  I
had the 'sweetest' decorator you've ever seen to help me, though."

"Bet he wanted to decorate more than your house!"

"He wasn't direct, but the innuendo got pretty thick.  I'm just NOT
into effeminate men."

"Whatever, you guys did a fabulous job."

"It's a long story," he said.  "We'll save that for later."

We cuddled, watching the lights come on in the skyscrapers, the sun
setting behind them.

"I'm not going to embarass myself trying to cook," he said.  "I'm
taking you out."

"You're going to have to carry me over the threshhold on the way
back," I warned.

"Don't think so," he laughed, "in addition to being too damned heavy,
you're not my wife, you're my partner.  We walk side by side,
remember?"

The view from the bedroom was as spectacular as from any other room.
We lay in each other's arms looking.

Eric broke the reverie by rolling me on my back, putting his lips on
mine.

After lubing me up, Eric sat slowly down on me.  When I was all the
way in, he ground into me, moving his hips in a circular motion.  It
felt so good.  He was tight, but not as tight as he'd been the first
few times.  I liked it better this way.  At first it had been almost
painful.

He'd also developed unbelievable control.  He could just sit on me,
and his internal muscles did all the work, stroking me, coaxing me.
When he did this, I had to fight cumming.  Staring at his long dick
standing in front of me dribbling precum didn't help.  Sometimes he
liked to reach orgasm with only anal stimulation, other times he
liked me to stroke him.  Nothing was ever said, I could feel what he
wanted.

I stroked him slowly, concentrating on giving him pleasure, hoping to
divert my attention from the churning that was already taking place
in my balls.  He raised slowly until the ridge of my corona was
against his prostate.  I could feel it rubbing up and down against my
sensitive cockhead.

Then the long strokes.  He rose on his knees until only the head of
my cock was inside, then slowly lowered himself all the way, eliciting
a shiver as he did it.  The tempo increased.  He never bounced hard,
but the pace quickened until he hit bottom hard, squirmed around to
get every last fraction of an inch into him, and blew huge wads of
cum all over my chest.  His internal muscles spasmed and I lost
control.  Intense feelings swept through my whole body, and I
flooded him with all I had to offer.

The sensations lingered, then the aftershocks started.  A few more
spurts flew from his dick as I continued to stroke, and I felt
intermittant spasms coming from my own buried tool.

His eyes opened and a huge smile spread across his face.  "I love
you," he whispered.

He did have coffee.  Other than that, the kitchen was bare.

In daylight, the apartment, or flat, as he called it, was even more
spectacular.  Sunlight streamed in the windows making all the warm
colors glow and there were windows everywhere, floor to ceiling.  I
immediately fell in love with the place.

Whether we liked it or not, it was a workday.  I was going to get
"propositioned", too.

We went straight to Jerry's office on the top floor.  All four were
there waiting for us, and they greeted Eric like a long lost brother,
and me like a member of the family.  I really liked their easygoing
manner.

Greg was the first to bring up business.  "We've got a problem," he
said.  "Production, and who knows more about that than you do, Dave?"

I shrugged and he continued.  "A couple of years ago, we built a
plant up in New Hampshire to produce our software. It never has run
very smoothly, and since our volume has skyrocketed, we're having to
farm out more and more production.  It's getting worse every month,
and we'll be rolling out our new stuff in a few months, and, quite
frankly, KNOW we won't be able to handle demand.

"Recognizing this, we're turning to somebody who knows production, or
has people that do.  We're good at just about every other phase of
our business, but we haven't a clue about making the product.  We've
gone through a dozen managers, and it keeps getting worse.  I guess
we just don't have the background to give them the direction they
need."

"What would you like me to do?" I asked.

"Honestly, we'd like to have you take it over," Jerry said.  "We know
it's small potatoes to you, but you're getting into the high-tech
market with Milton's products, and this may fit right in.  We'd be
willing to give you a 10 year contract to produce all of our stuff,
and I know that there's a lot of smaller Software Developers with the
same problems we have.  We're losing money, but we're pretty sure that
you could turn it around and make a bundle."

"This was Eric's idea, by the way," he added.

I glanced at him, and couldn't help but grin back at his beaming face.

"It might be interesting," I told them.  "I'll give it a look."

We talked some more about it, and how they'd virtually give us the
plant just to be rid of the headaches and have a reliable source of
product.

Eric had all the details in his office, so we went there to look them
over.  This was the first time I'd been there, and I was duly
impressed.  Also on the top floor, a great view, and on a credenza
behind his desk, a picture of him and me that had been taken on our
cruise in the Caribbean.

"Getting pretty bold, aren't you," I stated, pointing at the picture.

"That's not bold, that's reality," he answered.

Eric filled me in on more details.  The consulting firm that had
designed and built the plant for Micron had projected an "out the
door" production cost of $2.50 per unit. That was for the copying and
packaging only, not the materials. Current costs were running in the
$8.00 range, and output volume was totally unpredictable.

Outside contractors were charging $6.00 per unit, and Micron felt
that more copies of their software were finding their way into the
"gray" market than were being shipped to legitimate customers.
Quality control was also a major issue.

"How many units are we talking about here?" I asked.

"Around 20 million a year," he answered.  "That figure will
undoubtedly go up with the new roll-out."

"I hope I'm not putting you in a difficult position," I said,
smiling.  "You work for them, so don't tell me anything I shouldn't
hear, OK?"

"Don't worry, there's no conflict of interest.  They just want to get
rid of the headaches and they've 'ordered' me to answer all your
questions. If I don't have the answers, they'll get them for me. I'm
just doing my job."

"OK.  How much do they want for the plant?"

"They're willing to lease it to you for a dollar a year for two years
with an option to buy at their book value at that time, or whenever
you exercise the option."

"They must really want out bad!" I commented.  "How much are they
willing to pay for the finished product?"

"They'd LIKE to pay around $4.00, but have told me that they'd jump
at $5.00 a unit.  That's on the primary system line.  On other
programs that are more or less complicated to produce and package,
the price would be negotiated."

"That's more than fair."

"It's more than just the cost of the product, it's on-time deliveries
and quality control that's the big thing.  They desperately need
reliability."

"Do you think they could spare your gorgeous butt for a few days so
we could drive up and take a look at it?" I wondered.

"Would day-after-tomorrow be OK?  The reservations are already made."

"You're getting to know me so damned well it scares me!"

I called our production guys on the West Coast and told them to drop
everything and meet us in New Hampshire.

Over lunch, I told Eric that I would give the idea fair
consideration, but there was one condition.

"Since you're throwing this my way, I want you to have a piece of the
action.  It has to be totally open, everybody has to know about it,
even the regulatory agencies."

"You were the obvious solution, that's why I suggested you.  Why do
you want me to have a piece?"

"Because I love you.  But other than that, this looks like it could
be a real goldmine, and it's all your fault!" I chuckled.  "We'll
keep that part of the deal to ourselves until we look the place over."

We met with the "guys" again.  I told them that I was considering
their offer, but wouldn't make a commitment until Metalco people
could look the plant over and analyze the situation.  This was
more than agreeable.

Eric had already gotten my permission to show his bosses pictures of
the new computer cases we were considering producing, and laid out
pictures of the prototypes for them to see.

I was absolutely astounded at their reaction.  The words "way cool"
and "awesome" were used a lot.

"Our people would go nuts over these," Jerry announced.  "How soon
can we get, say, 5,000 of 'em?"  All four of them looked at me
expectantly.

"We're just getting started," I said.  "We're still in the development
stage."

"We want the first ones," Greg said, "as soon as we can.  These are a
fucking brilliant idea!"

I wondered if they were saying that to encourage me to take over
their production problems.  I mentioned this to Eric on the taxi ride
"home".

"Not them," he said.  "They don't bullshit.  I think they gave you
the answer you were looking for."

"If only everyone had that reaction..."

"They will," he assured me.  "I think you have a real winner there."

                              - - - - -

We talked business for a few minutes, then I changed the subject.  "I
want to know all about this place."

"It was just a brainstorm at first, but the more I thought about it,
the more sense it made.  I'll be commuting back here for at least the
next two years, and you're spending more time back here, so I figured
that we could use an East Coast 'home base'.

"I ran the idea past Sarah, and she thought it was great, and offered
to help me.  That lady has connections everywhere!  The next thing I
knew a Realtor was dragging me around.  I saw this place, fell in
love with it, and bought it."

"You BOUGHT it?"

"The building is a co-op, like a condo.  I even had to pass muster
with the building committee.  They had to be sure that I was
'suitable', but with Sarah as a sponsor, it was a snap.  Didn't even
have to tell 'em we're queer!"

"Must've set you back a bundle."

"Yep, but I paid cash.  I think it's a good investment."

"And the art?" I asked, pointing to a Gaugin that sure wasn't a fake.

"On loan from Sarah.  She insisted, said that they were just
'gathering dust' and the colors went well with the rest of the place,"
he said, laughing.

"You've done an incredible job," I told him.

"There's a lot more work to do.  Several rooms still need work.  I'm
just happy that you like it."

"I love it, but I'd love anyplace where YOU were."

"By the way, WE are having a party Friday night.  It's my turn to
show you off, and there are a lot of people I'm anxious for you to
meet."

"You're so damned full of surprises," I told him.

"Dontcha love it!"

                               - - - - -

We took a very early flight.  Mike, Metalco's Production chief and
his right hand man were waiting for us and we drove directly to the
Micron facility.

It wasn't large, by our standards, so the tour only lasted about an
hour.  Mike suggested we find someplace for a cup of coffee.

When we'd ordered, I asked him what he thought.

"That place is a cluster fuck," he said seriously, but that got us
all laughing.  "I don't know exactly what they're doing, or how
they're trying to do it, but it doesn't take much to see that they're
not doing it very well."

He took a sip of coffee and continued "There is no production flow,
and hell, half the equipment was down.  Aren't they running way
behind schedule?"

"That's what I hear," I said.  "Think we could do any better?"

"Offhand, hell yes, but I'd like to spend some more time there before
I give you a definite answer.  Also like to do a little research.
Who do I go to with questions?"

"Call me," Eric said, handing him a card.  "If I don't have the
answers, I'll get them for you."

"Is this a 'hurry-up' thing, Dave?"  Mike asked.

"We need to move pretty fast.  Can you spend a few days on it?"

"No problem there, things are kind of quiet at home.  No disasters
for a change," he chuckled.

We got another rental car for Mike.  Eric and I took off on our own
for a quick look at the Autumn leaves.  We figured that we might as
well since we were there anyway.

On the flight home, I asked Eric about the party "we" were having.

"Eight for dinner, no big deal," he said, baiting me.

"I assume you're cooking?" I teased.

"Yep, gotta slave over the stove all day tomorrow."

"C'mon, what's up."

"Remember that chef that cooked my Birthday dinner in Denver?"

I nodded.

"He's back in New York, and I conned him into making a housecall."

"Nothing you do surprises me," I laughed.

"He's taking care of everything, right down to the silverware.  All
we have to do is be there.

"Oh yes, WE don't have any of that stuff yet - dishes, glassware,
silverware.  Chef Maurice has offered to help us pick stuff out, and
he can get it for us wholesale!  You ready to go shopping?"

"Not on your life," I laughed.  "You know me and shopping!  You guys
do it."

At home, sated from a big dinner, we lay in each other's arms looking
at the skyline.

"You tickle me," I told him, chuckling.  "You spend millions on a
place like this then worry about buying glassware wholesale."

He turned and looked at me seriously.  "I need to tell you a few
things.  In the year and a half we've been together, you've shown me
so much, opened so many doors, and, yes, made me a rich man.

"I've fought you on the money thing since day one.  You were patient,
and gradually, by watching the example you set, I realized that
having money wasn't a bad thing.  You've shown me that it is
something you use and enjoy, you control it, it doesn't control you.

"You've also convinced me that I actually earned the money you've
given me.  It took a long time, but you succeeded.  I'm finally
comfortable with it and can enjoy spending it.

"Ever since the day Bill handed me the first check, I haven't touched
the account you set up for me.  Charles calls about once a month to
see if anything's wrong."  He held up his hand to stop me from
interrupting.

"What you did for me was generous, to a fault.  There weren't any
strings and you didn't try to control me.  But, the greatest gift you
gave me was trust."

Our eyes were locked.  I was misty eyed, and a tear rolled down his
cheek.  Gently I took him into my arms and just held him.  I felt a
sob or two as we clung to each other.

Composed, he continued.  "You've never asked what I did with that
money you paid me, never questioned me.  Well, I took your suggestion
and talked to your finance guys.  They set me up so I wouldn't pay it
all in taxes, and set up an investment program.  I've got close to
$20 million in investments, and I'm earning over a million a year
income from them, after taxes.  I can't spend that much, not to
mention the money I'm making from Micron.

"Once I'd gotten the idea to find a place for us here in New York, I
wanted you to be a part of the decision, but I decided not to for two
reasons.  First, I wanted to surprise you, and then, I knew if you
were involved, you'd insist on paying for it.  I couldn't let you do
that because I felt it was my turn to give something to US."

"We'll have to find another one," I suggested, "then we can have
'his', 'his' and 'ours'."

"No, I won't go for that," he answered.  "I feel that 'your' home is
now my home too.  I want you to feel the same way about this place.
The only difference, if we buy something together, is the way the
choice was made.  They're all OURS."

"Material things just aren't that important," I said.

"Yes they are," he countered, "but only if you enjoy them and don't
let them become your whole focus in life.  You don't, and I'm
learning to put these things in their proper perspective, but I still
love a bargain!"

                             - - - - -

Eric was a planner - and a delegator.  He conceptualized then turned
the execution over to someone else.  Our first dinner party in New
York bore that out.

Sarah helped him with the guest list, and Chef Maurice handled
everything else.  I don't know what he'd done to induce the Chef to
go all-out.  Whatever it was, it worked.  This was definitely not a
hotel catering job.

Eric went over the guest list with me.  There would be Sarah, of
course, and Count whatsisname that Sarah had feted, Greg and his wife
from Micron, and a couple whose name I recognized.

"I've been to a couple of dinners at Tom and Denise's," Eric
explained.  "They're the oldtime bankers that own half of the major
industries in the country.  They're really nice, and they want to
meet you."

The others I knew, but asked "Why Greg and not the others?"

"He's the real 'driving force' behind Micron, the business brain.  I
wanted to have him meet the Count, because I feel that there are some
real opportunities in his country, and Micron might be interested."

Sarah was the first to arrive.  "What do you think of what our boy's
done?" she asked.

I noticed the possessive "our".  At least she was sharing!

"I'm overwhelmed," I admitted.  "Thank you for all your help."

"I did very little," she admitted.  "Eric had his hand in every
detail."

"How'd he con you into loaning him all this priceless art?" I asked.

"It was my idea.  I don't have a place for them, and I wanted them to
be appreciated.  There are quite a few more that I want you guys to
have."  Then in a conspiratorial whisper, "Eric doesn't know it yet,
but I've willed all of them to the Metropolitan, but they're to be
his for his lifetime."

I was shocked.  What a truly magnificent gift!  Eric was a charmer,
no doubt of that, but he was sincere.  That made the difference.

"That boy has been a ray of sunshine in my life these last few
months.  I'm really going to miss him when he moves out."

"He'll still be around, and so will I, now that we have this place."

"I truly hope so," she said.  "By the way, I'm having my annual
houseparty in the South of France next month.  Could you and Eric
pop in for a weekend at least?"

"Can we let you know?"

                               - - - - -

We flew back to the West Coast on Sunday.  Back to the old grind.
Eric was still "babysitting" Micron's acquisitions, smoothing the way
for their integration.  His highest priority, however, was the
production problem, and he would be working closely with Metalco on
that.

The more I thought about it, the more the idea of getting into that
unrelated field appealed to me.  I felt really confident that if
anybody could make it a viable operation, our people could.  They'd
learn the technology involved and make it run right.

For so many years, Metalco had just grown on its own.  I hadn't been
really interested, so hadn't gotten involved.  Even though this
project was, in terms of the big picture, a very small one, it was
exciting to be part of it.  It wasn't the money, but the thrill of
accomplishing something.  Sleeping beauty, in the seat next to me,
was totally responsible.

The Micron guys' reaction to our PC redesign was also exciting.  No
telling where that might lead, and I wanted to be in on the whole
thing.

Our people had been busy, and there was a lot to catch-up on when I
got to the office.  Mike had spent three days in New Hampshire, and
had downloaded a lot of their production records.  These were being
analyzed.  He'd turned the technological aspects over to one of his
guys, and they were already looking at other equpment to handle the
job.  They'd have a complete feasability study completed soon.

Bill told me that the PC project had hit a snag.  Everything was "go"
except the monitors.  Nobody wanted to make any changes - even if it
only meant a different paint job.

I surprised him by saying "Then we'd better look for a monitor
company to buy."

"You're serious?" he asked.

"I think this thing has potential," I told him.  "We need all the
'parts' to make this thing work.  If we can't get somebody else to do
it, we'll do it ourselves."

"Welcome back," he said, shaking his head.  "At least we got a week
of peace and quiet while you were gone.  Here we go again, I love it!"

Since the first mention of Eric in the article about Metalco, he had
received several requests for interviews.  He had turned them all
down, hoping that they'd forget about him.  The writer of the
original article had been on his trail, however, and published
another article, this one totally devoted to Eric.

I saw it first, in the morning paper.  It was titled "Sic 'em Eric".
The first paragraph started out:

"Eric "Zap the Bankers" Lundborg has been a busy boy.  Although he
maintains close ties to Metalco, the West Coast giant, he's been busy
on the East Coast too.

"The wave of acquisitions by Micron, the Software powerhouse, attest
to his ability to keep things simple.  There wasn't an Investment
Banker in sight on any of these transactions.  Do we see a trend
developing here?"

The long article went on to detail Eric's involvement in the Micron
deals, his current position with Micron, and an analysis of what this
could mean to the Investment Banking community.

It was a highly flattering article.  My reaction was both pride and
dismay.  Selfishly, I didn't want him to become a public figure.  I
wanted him all to myself and the privacy that we shared.  Oh well,
we'd survive.  I'd make an effort to be as excited as I knew he'd be.

He was working with my guys on the Micron project, and had gone in to
the office early.  When I got there, he was waiting in my office.

"Did you see this?" he asked, brandishing the paper.

"Yes," I smiled at him.

He was as excited as I'd ever seen him.  "I wanted you to know how
excited I really am, then I can turn on the 'humble' face."

"Enjoy it!  You have every reason to be excited," I told him,
catching his mood.

"I'm going to.  One of these days I'm going to fall flat on my face,
then see what they say!"

"Don't you know?" I asked him.  "You're supposed to ride high on your
successes and cover up your failures."

"Is that how it works?" he laughed.

"It works for me!"

"I just can't imagine you failing at anything," he said seriously.

"See!  It works.  I hide 'em fast!"

"I hear that I'm getting a few calls at the office and also at the
New York office."

"That's not a surprise.  Everybody'll be after your hot body, but,
you know what?  It's mine!"

"And damn well going to stay that way."

"Let me take you to lunch so you can enjoy all this," I suggested.
"I want to sit back and watch you get fawned over."

The press was polite, but firm and very damn persistant.  Eric was
equally firm about no interviews and definitely no pictures.  A local
paper even went so far as to get his High School yearbook picture and
run it.  We got a good laugh out of that.  The scourge of the
Investment Banking industry looked so sweet and innocent.

Mike called to let me know that he and his crew had reached some
conclusions about the PC project, and we all got together.

"I know we've got factories all over the world," he started, "but I'd
like to box that whole thing up and move it here.  Once we have all
the bugs worked out, we could move it across the border to Mexico.

"We've analyzed all the equipment they have, and, if we're going to
eliminate the bottlenecks they have, we're going to have to buy a few
things."  He was grinning.

"When you say a 'few' things, what are we looking at, dollarwise?" I
asked.

"Oh, only around $15 million," he grinned.  "That's not much when you
consider what it'll do."

"OK," I said.  "If we do that, how many units can we turn out, and
what're they going to cost us?"

"Barring any catastrophes, and factoring in the new equipment, we
should be able to turn out 3 million units a month at a cost of right
at $2.00 each."

"Have you figured out the logistics?"

"If we already have the new equipment here, we could move the whole
thing and have it set up and running in two weeks.  If we're in a
super rush, we could air freight the stuff and do it in about 10
days."

"Let's do it," I said. "Give me a couple of days to get everything
tied up, then we'll go with it."

The smiles I saw told me that this was going to be a fun project, and
a nice moneymaker to boot.  Give these guys a challenge and they ran
with it.

"Call your bosses and tell them they have a deal," I told Eric on the
phone.

"Yippee!" he shouted.  "I hoped it'd work out."

"Time will tell, but we're gonna give it a shot."

"How much?"

"$4.50," I said, grabbing a number off the top of my head.

"Can you make any money at that price?" he asked, concerned.

"Ooooooh YES!" I assured him.  "We've got real production people, not
a bunch of damned consultants."

"They'll be rather happy with that kind of news," he said, chuckling.

"Set up an appointment so we can work out the details.  When can you
go?"

"My time is yours," he shot back, "and that's not all!"

"Promises, promises."

"You'll see..."

"Seriously, we're ready to move on this.  The sooner the better."

Eric kept his promise and fucked me until I was delirious that night.

                               - - - - -

We took a Metalco plane.  Since we'd been flying commercial, we'd
missed a lot of meetings of the "Five Mile High" club and needed to
catch up.

Jason and one of the new guys were our pilots.  I hadn't seen the new
guy before, and had to give Jason a bad time about him.  "How can you
keep your hands off of that gorgeous hunk?"  I asked.

"Not easy," he admitted.  "I think he's got a small dick though, and
I'm a size queen, remember?"

The penthouse was dark when we walked in, then Eric touched a switch
and all the drapes pulled back and the afternoon sun flooded in.  It
was warm and inviting, and I was feeling more 'at home' already.  I
was curious, though.  "Who takes care of this place when we're not
here?" I asked.

"Sarah steered me to a maid service that comes in just before we get
here, then comes in daily while we're here.  They do all the cleaning
and laundry."

Changing the subject, he continued.  "Our meeting tomorrow should
only last a couple of hours, then I'm going shopping for basics -
underwear, socks, that sort of thing, so we don't have to bring
everything with us every time.  Either you come with me or I'll buy
you purple underwear and pink sox."

"I'll go under two conditions," I told him, laughing.  "First, you
have to model the underwear, and second, I'm buying.  Let's splurge!"

"There you go again," he chuckled.  "What the hell, we've both got
more money than we can ever spend.  I wouldn't mind prancing around
in some bikini underwear, either."

"You'd never fit in 'em, my dear," I told him.  "If you did manage to
cram it in, you'd be arrested for inciting a riot."

The Micron boys were really happy to see us.  The looks of relief on
their faces told the whole story.

I outlined our plans in detail.  They were surprised at our desire to
move the plant to California, but agreed to that and all the other
parts of my proposal.

"We're not doing this as a favor," I told them.  "We intend to make
money, and provide you with the product you need, on time, in the
process."

"One other thing," I continued.  "We're going to set this up as a
separate corporation.  It'll have the backing of Metalco, but be
owned 75% by my family and 25% by Eric.

"Our Legal department has gone over this, and they can't find
anything improper or a conflict of interest.  That, however, is up to
you guys, how you see it."

They looked at each other and shrugged.  "I can't see anything wrong
with that,"  Greg said.

"Me either," Jerry concurred.  "Just as long as Eric doesn't get
distracted too much.  He's too damned important to us."

"Just to be on the safe side," Greg spoke up, "we'll have our Legal
give us an opinion, and if they agree, we'll pass a board resolution.
Cover everybody's asses that way."

"It's a deal, then," I said, getting up to shake on it.

Eric gave me hell.

"I thought you'd forgotten about that," he yelled at me.  "Why didn't
you warn me?"

"Because I knew you'd react just like you are right now."

"But I don't WANT to own a big part of that business.  I don't need
it!"

"Isn't the fact that I want you to have it enough?" I asked, then
laid a big wet sloppy kiss right on his lips, right there on one of
the busiest sidewalks in New York.

That got his attention, as well as the attention of several hundred
pedestrians.

He glared at me and sputtered.  "You asshole," he said, but his eyes
were starting to sparkle, his head shaking from side to side.  "You
always get your way, don't you."

"I try," I said, grinning at him.

"Let's try shopping," he said as he put his arm around me.  "I feel
like spending all those millions I don't need!"

And shop we did, with a vengeance.  We resembled beasts of burden
with all the packages before we were through.  We joked around a lot,
shocking more than one clerk, and I actually enjoyed it.

"OK, I'll admit you took me by surprise today," he said as we sat
with our drinks, "and I can't get out of it gracefully, so, tell me
what I'm involved in."

"Real simple," I said.  "We start a new company to do this.  Annie
and Tina each get 20%, and you and I each get 30%."

"Whoa, you said 25%."

"I changed my mind," I said, grinning at him.

"Oh hell, I give up!  How's it work?"

"Now hear me out on this," I asked. "I've given this a little
thought, but I'm just going to think out loud.  OK?"

He nodded.

"We set it up as Lundborg/Rush, Inc. or something like that,
capitalized at, maybe, a million.

"It'll be run totally separate from Metalco, but we'll use them to
set the thing up.  We'll owe them for that, and they'll bill us at
cost.  We'll even pay rent for the Metalco building we'll be using
for a while.

"We'll need working capital for payroll, supplies and other
expenses.  We'll borrow that.

"We'll also have to borrow money to pay for the new equipment we're
getting, or Metalco can buy it and we'll pay them off at some later
date.

"We'll need an office and small staff, and, after the bugs get worked
out, we'll need sales people to sell our excess capacity.  If that
works out, we can expand.

"If Mike's estimate turns out to be true, and I'm confident it will,
we'll be showing a gross profit of over $2.00 per unit.  We won't hit
that for a while, but when we do, that'll be four million a month
from Micron alone, and if we use our full capacity, six million a
month, or 72 million a year.

"Take off 25% for taxes, and that leaves 54 million a year net."

Eric groaned.  "How do you come up with all those numbers in your
head?  You've got MY head spinning!"

"Takes practice, my dear," I grinned at him.  "Actually, I think
those numbers are real conservative.  If we do a good job for Micron,
and do a lot of hustling, I think we can double them in less than two
years.

"You know I'll never take Metalco public, but there's no reason why
we couldn't do that with Lundborg/Rush.  It's hi-tech, and would be
one of the few making money at the time of an IPO.  With our names on
it, it'd be the hottest IPO to hit the street.

"Even using the conservative estimate of 54 million a year net, and a
price/earnings multiple of 40, which is awfully low, the company
would have a market value of over two billion.

"Between the four of us, we could sell off 20% at the IPO, and have a
little pocket change, like 400 million or so.  What do you think?"

He was sitting there shaking his head.  "I think I know why you're
one of the world's richest men.  You simply amaze me."  He pondered a
minute then asked "What happens if Micron drops us at the end of ten
years?"

"I doubt that that'll happen.  We'll do such a good job for them,
cheaper than they can do it themselves, that they won't want to
change.  But, if they do, by then, we won't need them.

"Here's another idea, though.  When our option on the equipment comes
up in two years, I think that instead of paying them cash, we could
trade 5 or 10% of our stock for it.  That would give them a vested
interest, and they'd never leave us.  In fact, it might be a good
idea to do that up front. Offer them cash 'or' stock."

"You blow me away," he said taking me in his arms.

"I'll do that in an hour or two."

"Don't you ever stop thinking about sex you pervert?" he giggled.

"How about YOU, sweetie?  How come you've got a stiff dick right
now?"  I said giving him a good grope.

"Hadn't noticed, guess I do.  Must be that 'power' thing again."  He
was silent for a minute, then asked "Do you really think this could
happen?"

"I'm confident that it can and will," I told him.

We had a very, very late dinner.

                               - - - - -

There was no point waiting around New York over the weekend, and we
were both anxious to get things started on our new project.

We got home in the early afternoon and were no sooner in the door
than Tina, looking awful, rushed into my arms.  "Daddy, I slipped."

To be continued.


AUTHOR'S NOTE:   I enjoy your comments and USE your suggestions and
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orrinrush@yahoo.com