Date: Fri, 14 Dec 2001 09:17:28 -0800 (PST)
From: Orrin Rush <orrinrush@yahoo.com>
Subject: Lifeguard 50
Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction. If you are
offended by graphic descriptions of homosexual acts, go
somewhere else.
Copyright c 2001 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 50
Eric must have noticed him at the same time I did. He froze,
then turned to look at me. "What the fuck is that
asshole doing here?" he growled.
I turned my back to him to escape those damned eyes. "I have
no idea who the hell he is or what he's doing here," I said.
"He bothers me."
"I know he does, babe, me too, but we can't let him get to
us. Just ignore him, hell, he's just another face in the
crowd."
"Easy to say," I said. "That guy spooks me!"
We pretended that he wasn't there, making an effort to have a
good time regardless. My success at this was limited. In
paranoid fashion, I felt his eyes on my back, and every time
I looked around, there he was.
I tried to concentrate on other people. I checked out all
the women who were wearing beautiful gowns and drenched in
diamonds. At a quick guess, I'd bet that there was a years'
worth of deBeers production wandering around the dance floor.
Tina and Annie were no exception. "Where'd you get all the
jewelry?" I asked them.
"Sarah arranged for us to borrow it from Harry Winston in New
York before we left," Annie explained. "Aren't they cool?"
"If you want 'em, I'll buy them for both of you," Eric
teased, "and charge 'em to your Dad."
"Get your own girlfriend!" Hans teased him.
The orchestra was playing Strauss waltzes. That was
something else I could handle, if I didn't get too exuberant.
We both danced a couple of waltzes, but it felt like there
was an ominous cloud hanging over the whole evening. At the
next break, Eric motioned for me to follow him out onto the
terrace.
"This is bullshit," he said. "I can tell you're miserable
and I'm not too happy either. It's got to stop."
"What do you suggest?" I asked.
"I think we have two choices. Either we talk to him or we
leave."
"Let's face it, babe, this isn't that guy's problem, it's
ours, mine in particular. The only thing he's ever done is
make that one comment."
"I don't know why either of us are making such a big deal out
of this," he said. "We don't have any secrets, so what's to
be afraid of?"
"It's those eyes," I answered. "They draw me, and at the
same time repel me. I don't feel I have control over myself
and that scares me."
"Looks like our decision's been made for us," he said. "Here
he comes."
"Hello, Gentlemen," the Eyes said. "We seem to meet in the
strangest places! I'm Alan Sloan, Sarah's nephew," he
continued, holding out his hand.
"Eric Lundborg," Eric said, shaking his hand.
"Dave Rush," I said, shaking his hand too.
"I've heard a lot about both of you, but wasn't able to put
your names and faces together until you were announced
tonight," Alan said.
"We try to keep a low profile," Eric offered.
I didn't know what to say. I was in shock. Where had he
come from? He certainly didn't belong to Edward or John, so
there must be other siblings.
I think he sensed our discomfort, so tried to make it easier
for us. "I used to work for Uncle Edward," he said. "He
fired me when he thought I was getting too close to finding
out what he and Uncle John were doing, but I think you know
all about that."
We nodded but didn't comment.
"From what I hear, Milton has taken off like a rocket since
you took over," Alan added, leaving an opening in the
conversation.
"We're doing quite well," I said, "growing pretty fast."
"I'd better get back to my wife," Alan said. "Nice to meet
you both." We'd all recognized that this conversation wasn't
going anyplace, so he was ending it. Before he left,
however, he had a parting shot. "Dave, I still think that
you have the most captivating eyes I've ever seen."
Eric waited until Alan was back inside then burst out
laughing. "Gotcha!"
The tension evaporated. It had been a strange conversation,
more unsaid than said, but at least I had been able to look
him straight in the eye without being affected.
"Feel better?" Eric asked.
I nodded. "Whatever hold he had over me is long gone," I
smiled.
"I agree with him about your eyes," he said. "I get off on
them all the time."
- - - - -
It was nice to be home. Eric and I decided to ignore the
threat of jet lag and just got back to work.
Bill wanted to see us the minute we came in. He brought Bob
with him, and although he was smiling, something was going on.
"Have you guys seen the papers?" he asked.
"Not since we left," I told him.
"This is quicker than explaining," he said, handing us a
newspaper. "Lower right corner," he directed.
Eric slid closer so he could read too. "ANOTHER GANGLAND
EXECUTION" headlined the article. "The body of Anthony
Rizullo, a gangland figure and Vice President of the United
Metalworkers Union in New Jersey, was found in the marshes of
Long Island with a single bullet wound to the head," was the
first sentence.
That's all I needed to read. "Is this good or bad - for us?"
I asked, noting the date on the paper being several days ago.
"We're not sure yet," Bob said. "Here's what we've been able
to piece together so far: The Miltons took off for Bermuda,
leaving Tony in the lurch, so when Tony couldn't come up with
the money to cover the Website's loss, they took care of him.
"By then, from phone calls to Tony, we knew who in the Mob he
was dealing with and put surveillance on them. Our main
concern was whether or not they'd stop there, or whether
they'd go after you guys too. So far, they seem to be
satisfied with 'offing' Tony, but we'll keep watching them."
"What's happening at the Union?" I asked.
"Total chaos," Bob reported. "Tony was running the whole
show. I know, he wasn't doing much, but he was directing
their feeble efforts. Now, the Union President has decided
to get involved, and has called in the 'Goon Squad' to take
over. Ironically, they're the same ones who did away with
Tony. Don't worry, we have them all 'wired' too."
"The election's only three weeks away," Eric observed, "what
can they do between now and then?"
"About the only thing we can think of is some heavy
intimidation of the membership," Bill said. "That's surely
going to backfire if they try it, just emphasize the Union's
Mob connections."
"Has the Union tried to negotiate with us at all?" I asked.
"Not so far," Bill said. "They'd consider it a sign of
weakness."
"What do we do now?" I asked.
"Just what we've been doing," Bill said, "keeping up the
pressure."
- - - - -
Preliminary third quarter financials were ready for all our
companies, so we studied them. For the first time, I showed
Metalco's statements to Eric.
He was hesitant to even look at them. "Are you sure?" he'd
asked.
"Go ahead, it's Community Property now," I kidded him.
He pored over the statements, then looked up at me, "I had no
idea," he said softly.
We looked at the reports on Hydra's subsidiaries. The CLP
Railroad was showing marked improvement. Revenues were up
and costs were down. The absence of debt to service helped a
lot and it looked like Wilson was clearing out the dead wood
at the top, probably Edgar's cronies.
"Did anybody ever follow-up on that high-speed train?" Eric
asked.
"Not to my knowledge."
"Mind if I look into it?"
"Go for it," I told him, "they're going to have to do
something with all that cash."
"You know what?" he said, "I've never been on a train. Might
be fun sometime, just the two of us."
"I have, but it was a long, long time ago," I told him.
Development was a drain. I guess that's how it works, you
pump money in for a long time, and eventually it starts
coming back when the projects go on the market.
Sales of marginal properties were going very well. As Eric
commented, "Annie and Tina don't say much, they just get the
job done."
Lovebird was the star performer. If current output could be
maintained, it alone would retire all of Hydra's debt in
three years.
Last came Lundborg Rush. We were both surprised. In the
last quarter we had exceeded even our most optomistic
original projections by almost fifty percent.
"Ready to go Public yet?" Eric laughed.
"Hell no!" I yelled back. "Let's be greedy and wait until
all the new stuff is on line. It'll be worth a helluva lot
more then."
"We don't need the money," Eric chuckled. "YOU sure as hell
don't!" he added, pointing at the Metalco statement.
- - - - -
After she got caught up, Annie came into my office for a chat.
I did my best not to be nosy, but I was curious about Hans.
At first we discussed the overall festivities and agreed that
two solid weeks of it was just too much. It had been fun
this time, but a week would be more than adequate in the
future.
Finally Hans came up. "What do you think of him?" she wanted
to know.
"I like him," I told her honestly.
"He thinks you and Eric are really neat, too," she said.
"He's got a lot of respect for the way you two act like
yourselves and can't understand why we Americans make such a
big fuss about anyone being gay."
"I think part of it is that we're so damned hung up on
labels," I told her. "Everybody's got to be catalogued and
identified, no ambiguity allowed.
"Now," I continued, "how do you feel about him?"
She thought about her answer for a few seconds. "I like him.
A whole lot. He's caring and considerate, and so much fun to
be around. I haven't laughed that much in a long long time.
He's also got what we talked about - Life! God, he wore me
out!"
"Are you serious about him?"
"I could be, but it's too early to tell. There's a good
possibility, though. The only problem I see is that he's
there and I'm here. You know I'm never going to be just a
hausfrau," she said.
"If it's meant to happen, it will," I told her, "regardless
of obstacles."
- - - - -
"The Government funding's still available," Eric announced.
"For what?" I asked.
"The high speed train," he said as if I should have been a
mind reader.
I had to chuckle. Most of the time when he'd start in the
middle of something, I would pick up on it, but this was such
an abrupt switch of subjects that he caught me.
"How does it look?" I asked.
"Pretty damned good, Wilson tells me. I'm going up to San
Francisco tomorrow so he can explain the whole thing. Wanna
go?"
"I really shouldn't," I told him. "There've been some
rumblings in New Jersey and I want to keep on top of things.
You go find out everything and tell me."
"You're right. As much as I'd like us to do everything
together, we've both got things that we need to do separately
- until we can dump them off on somebody else," he giggled.
Within 24 hours the rumbles became roars. In a last ditch
effort, the Union and it's rabid supporters were physically
attacking non-union sympathizers. Full-scale riots broke
out, and the Governor of Connecticut was threatening to call
out the National Guard. As the Union had hoped, the NLRB was
threatening to postpone the election that was only a week
away.
We brought in an army of security people to keep peace on
Company property, but we had no jurisdiction over the
surrounding areas where the battles continued. We were
hoping and praying that the Governors would step in and end
it, but they dawdled.
On the third day of battle, a non-union supporter was
bludgeoned to death. That did it. The National Guard was
called out in Connecticut, New Jersey and Pennsylvania, and
after a day of light skirmishes, things quieted.
There was an armed truce and the NLRB announced plans to go
ahead with the election.
All was relatively quiet until the day of the election. As
the first shift showed up, there was a picket line at the
gate of every Milton facility, coast to coast. It wasn't a
peaceful picket line carrying signs, but a group of thugs
making physical threats and hurling invective.
It was reported that a few refused to cross the picket line,
even though THEY were the ones being picketed.
I'd never heard of anything like this happening before - a
Union picketing its own membership! Metalco had experienced
some pretty nasty Union tactics over the years, but this was
the meanest I'd ever seen.
In the cities where things got overheated, riot police were
called to maintain order. Once the shift was underway,
things calmed down outside the gates and our guards kept
things quiet inside the plants.
During the day, there were attempts to steal ballot boxes and
to scare off the NLRB election supervisors, but our guards
were on their toes.
The whole performance was repeated when workers for the
evening shift arrived. More chaos, but this time everyone
was ready and violence was held to a minimum.
Once the voting was complete, the NLRB took the ballots to
Federal offices for counting under armed guard. We'd have to
wait until noon the next day to learn the results.
- - - - -
All the troops gathered in my office to await the results.
We were confident that we'd win. By how much was the
question.
Jeff took the call. He was beaming when he hung up. "Eighty
seven percent!" he whooped.
When the cheering died down, Eric asked a sensible question.
"What happens to the thirteen percent who voted against us?"
With a totally straight face, Jack looked straight at Eric.
"We take 'em out and shoot 'em."
A look of disbelief was quickly replaced with a grin, then a
big belly laugh.
"Never thought I could pull one over on YOU!" Jack said, "not
even for a second. Actually, if they run true-to-form, in
six months the ones who were the biggest Union supporters
will be OUR biggest supporters. They're 'followers'."
It was over. As soon as the contract expired, every Milton
employee would see a raise, and as fast as we could, Milton
would be integrated into Metalco.
- - - - -
The bedroom was dark when Eric slid into bed. "Remember the
talks we've had about how great it'd be if we could fuck each
other at the same time?" he asked innocently.
"Um hmm."
"I've found something that might be real close to that," he
said, brandishing what looked like about a 16" double-ended
dildo.
"How's it work?" I asked.
"One end goes in you, the other end goes in me. Whenever one
of us moves, the other one feels it," he explained.
"And how do you plan to manage that?"
"Lemme show you," he said, reaching for the lube.
He prepped me, then himself. While he was doing this, I held
the dildo. It had a skin-like surface texture and bumpy
veins. It also felt nice and warm. "This thing got a heater
in it?" I asked.
"No," he giggled, "I soaked it in hot water to warm it up."
"Oh."
He carefully lubed up one end of the thing then started
working it into me. It felt pretty damned good. Not as good
as his real cock, but not bad. When he scored a direct hit
on my prostate, I just about jumped off the thing. Eric hung
on and managed to keep it in.
"I'll be more careful," he promised.
"Why?" I chuckled, "that was sensational!"
I watched him lube up the other end. He then positioned
himself between my legs, one of his over one of mine, the
other under. Butt toward butt, holding the dildo, he inched
forward trying to impale himself on it.
It wasn't going in. Instead, he was driving the damned thing
deeper into me.
"You ever used one of these things before?" I asked.
"No, isn't that pretty obvious?" he giggled. "I can't get
hold of the damned thing," he laughed. "It won't go in."
"Get a pair of pliers," I suggested, laughing too. "You
oughta be able to hold it with them."
"I'm gonna try a towel, maybe I can grab it with that."
He got a towel. After several tries, that worked. He was
able to get the end inside himself then slid down on it until
we were butt to butt.
"What do we do now?" I asked, laughing, looking down at our
soft cocks just lying there.
He wiggled his butt. "Wow! Not bad!" I told him, watching
both of our dicks stir.
He grasped my hardenening cock with his lubed hand, moving
his butt again. Now, that REALLY felt good! He held up the
lube, gave me a handful that I rubbed all over his dick and
started stroking.
We got serious in a hurry. Both of our butts were gyrating,
our hands stroking. It was a triple stimulus - the "cock"
moving around in my ass tickling my prostate, Eric's hand
stroking my dick, and his cock in my hand. I'm not sure
which one was the greatest turn-on.
"This ain't a bit bad!" he said gleefully.
"Shut up and wiggle that bootie," I told him, laughing.
We gazed into each other's eyes. It felt good, but we were
wound into such pretzels that there was definitely an element
of humor. The only way I could "get anyplace" was to
concentrate, wiggle and stroke.
We built and blew. All orgasms are good, but on a scale of
one to ten, this was about a five. Usually, we were off the
scale.
"That was FUN!" he said lying there. "I think it'd be more
fun if we took it all a little more seriously, though."
"You'll have to admit, it WAS funny," I told him.
"We'll just have to practice."
- - - - -
The Railroad had two routes going up the coast. One followed
the coastline wherever possible, the other was inland,
running from Los Angeles to San Francisco. The "bullet
train" would best be suited to the route between San Luis
Obispo and San Diego. That's where most of the commuter
traffic was, and the part where Federal funds were available
for construction.
The project would cost billions and take years to complete
once all the bureaucratic and environmental hurdles were
crossed. It was estimated that our share of the cost could
be capped at between $500 million and $1 billion.
With ongoing Department of Transportation subsidies our
projections showed that a mere five percent increase in
ridership over current levels would make it profitable. Not
much, but beyond break-even. Much larger increases, which all
of the surveys predicted, would make it more than a
worthwhile investment.
Eric had enthusiastically done all of the legwork, and after
many hours of discussion between the two of us, sometimes
Annie and Tina included, we decided to start the ball rolling.
Since we would be dealing with the Government, everything had
to be done "according to the book", including a Railroad
Board resolution before we could even start the paperwork.
With George Wilson's wholehearted support, details of what we
proposed were sent to each of the directors for them to study.
Since we had taken over the Railroad, Quarterly Board Meetings
had been held, usually hour-long sessions where we
rubber-stamped approval of everything Wilson proposed. This
one would be a little more involved.
This Board meeting lasted all day. Eric's knowledge of what
had to be done was unbelievable. He'd done his homework
well, and amazed us all with what he knew.
There was a lot more involved than just filling out some
forms. Politics were involved. Oh shit!
Wilson would handle everything, and I was surprised to learn
how well he was politically "connected". Toward the end of
the meeting, Wilson asked Eric if he would work with him,
occasionally, on negotiations. I considered that a very high
compliment to Eric, indeed.
After the meeting, Eric had something he wanted to show me,
so we split off from the crowd and headed to the South Bay in
a rental. At the Railroad's main "Yard" we were waved right
in. Eric had evidently been there before. We drove around,
dodging switch engines to a far corner of the property.
There, by itself on a piece of track not even connected to
any other rails, sat the most dilapidated looking piece of
rolling stock I'd ever seen.
"Isn't it a beauty?" Eric asked.
"What the hell is it?" I asked, not noticing anything
resembling "beauty" anywhere in the vicinity. Maybe I was
looking at the wrong thing.
"A piece of Railroad History," he said getting out of the car.
"Come look."
We stood and surveyed the thing. It was NOT a pretty sight.
"Over a hundred years ago, this was the Private Car of the
Railroad's President," he explained. "At the time, this one
was considered the ultimate in private transportation. Not
even the Eastern Railroad moguls had anything to match it."
"That was then, this is now," I commented dryly.
"I'm going to restore it," he said, "for us," looking at me
with that twinkle in his eye that I knew so well and using
those words that he knew I couldn't argue with.
"The wheels and suspension will be replaced with modern
stuff, but the carriage itself is sound, and the interior can
be totally restored," he continued. "I have pictures of the
original interior, and I plan to put it back to the way it was
originally, gold fittings, chandeliers and all."
I stood there shaking my head. "You've got a lot of work
ahead of you," I commented.
"I'm not into 'fixer-uppers' myself," he giggled. "There're
people who do this type of thing. Just think, we can go
anyplace where there're rails!"
I put my arm around him and gave him a squeeze. "I married a
nut, but I love every minute of it," I told him.
We peeked into the door that was hanging by one hinge. The
inside was a total disaster, looking like something out of
"Great Expectations" with almost solid cobwebs and inches of
dust and grime.
"That's the 'before' view," he said proudly, "wait'll you see
it when it's restored."
- - - - -
Jack and Dale wanted to talk to us before doing anything with
all the evidence we'd gathered on the Milton brothers. They
knew that we had become close friends with Sarah so wanted us
to make the decision on how to proceed.
"We've waited long enough after the Union mess so that there
won't be any connection," Jack said. "We can get everything
we have to the New York District Attorney's office
anonymously. They'll never be able to trace where it came
from."
"Why New York and not New Jersey?" I asked.
"Probably both," Dale said.
"What do you have on them?" Eric asked. "I haven't read very
much of the information that's been coming in."
Jack nodded to Dale who jumped right in. "They may seem like
refined, sedate old men, but there's a dark side. Both of
them are into children. Edward likes little boys and John
likes little girls and they've gone a lot further than just
collecting 'kiddie porn' though they do that too."
"How much further?" Eric asked.
"They have an apartment in New York near one of the poorest
sections of the city. They work with street pimps who bring
them a steady supply of victims, poor children eight to
around twelve years old, both little boys and little girls,
occasionally some as young as five.
"The old bastards have sex with these kids, and evidently
take turns videotaping each other while they're doing it.
We've managed to get copies of several of these tapes. Not
all of these kids are willing participants, and John,
particularly, seems to prefer it when the kid is fighting
him. I call that rape!"
"Have you actually seen one of these tapes?" I asked.
"I watched as much of one as I could stand," Dale said. "It
was enough to see both John and Edward in action. Sorry, I
couldn't look at any more. What I did see, though, is enough
to put them both away for the rest of their lives."
"I didn't have the stomach to look at them," Jack said.
"I'll rely on Dale's word."
"How would you handle this?" Eric asked.
"We'd send copies of the tapes, along with a letter
identifying the Miltons, to both D.A.'s. The letter'd also
have the address of the apartment in New York," Jack said.
"We'd also let New York know that New Jersey also got
copies. That way they'd HAVE to act."
"Don't do anything until we have a chance to think this
over," I told them. "We'll let you know."
"Those fucking assholes!" Eric said after Dale and Jack left.
"Puts us in a rather delicate position," I commented.
"I know!" he said. "Neither of us want to hurt Sarah, and if
this came out, she'd be dragged in for sure. On the other
hand, those pricks can't be allowed to continue that shit.
God, it makes me shiver just to think about it."
"Do you think we should look at those tapes to make sure
they're what Dale says they are?" I asked.
"No way in hell! I trust Dale. If I saw them, I'd lose what
little objectivity I still have, and probably try to kill the
old fuckers myself."
We sat, lost in thought, weighing the possibilities.
Child molestation cases always got a lot of press. There
would be even more in this case because of the Milton's
prominence. Sarah, holding the social position that she did,
would, no doubt, be mentioned in everything written or said,
her name dragged through the mud just because she was their
sister.
It wasn't fair to her, but with the knowledge we had,
something had to be done. I can tolerate a lot, but this was
just too much. I also detest self-righteous people who stand
in judgment of others, and here I was, doing just that.
Eric interrupted my thoughts. "I hate to wuss out on this,"
he said, "but the only thing I can think of is to tell Sarah
the whole story and let her decide what to do. I think we
owe her at least a chance."
I weighed that idea for a minute. "That's the humane thing
to do. What do you think she'll do to them?"
"I know I'd cut both their dicks off," he said. "I have no
idea what she'll do, but I'm sure she'll come up with
something just as bad."
"I don't think that what you're proposing is a cop-out," I
told him. "We both love Sarah and don't want to see her get
hurt. I have confidence that she won't let them off the hook
and do it in such a way that it won't be a public scandal and
those assholes will still get the punishment they deserve."
"It'll take a day or two to gather everything up, then I'm
going to New York and give it to her," he said.
"NO!" I said. "WE'RE going to New York together. I'm
involved here too, and I'm going to be with you all the way.
I love Sarah too."
"Thank you," he said, and I could tell he really meant it.
"Let's get to work so we can get this whole thing behind us."
"What do you need?"
"More than just hearsay," he said. "Cold hard facts to back
up what we're going to tell her. I'll get Dale to gather up
everything we'll need."
That evening, Eric told me what he'd asked Dale to do. He
was thorough and we would be well prepared.
The General had found us a slot later in the week, so we had
to wait a few days before we could make the trip. Eric had
alerted Sarah that we were coming to town and wanted to talk
with her.
- - - - -
We were both dreading the trip, but at the same time wanted
it over with. The whole situation had sickened us both to
the point where our own sex lives had ground to a halt.
Neither of us were interested.
"Do you think we're perverts too?" Eric had asked when we
were talking about it.
"No!" I had answered vehemently. "We're two people who love
each other, and the fact that we're both men has nothing to
do with it."
"Yeah, I know, we're consenting adults and all that, but I
get a twinge of guilt every time I think about it. At the
moment, it just seems wrong."
Selfishly, I was glad that we were dropping the whole problem
in Sarah's lap. Once that was accomplished, I hoped that we
could return to our old lives. Closure, hopefully, and some
laughter and some physical "loving" too.
Jacques took our stuff to the penthouse, and we went straight
to Sarah's. Eric felt that it would be best to break this
news on "her turf" where she would feel less vulnerable.
Neither of us had any idea what her reaction would be.
We were greeted with hugs, and we thanked her profusely for
the great time we'd had in France, then Eric got down to the
nitty gritty.
"Do you remember when you told us that your brothers might be
up to something?" he asked. Sarah nodded. "To be on the
safe side, Dave had them put under surveillance," he
continued. "In the process, we learned some things that we
didn't want to know. They've been doing some pretty awful
things and we wanted to let you know the whole story before
we turned the evidence over to the police."
Dale had prepared a short description of the brothers'
activities, using clinical terms wherever possible. Eric
handed that to her.
I couldn't watch her while she read it. I had a vague idea
of how painful it must have been for her.
"I know you have hard proof of all this or you wouldn't have
brought this to me," she stated.
"Unfortunately, we do," Eric told her. "We have copies of
several tapes for you."
"I don't want to see them!" she said, "but I may need them to
get this matter settled."
"They're yours," Eric said.
"I'm just too old for this kind of thing," she sighed,
looking very tired. "Why do I have to be saddled with such
sick siblings?" she asked, not expecting an answer.
"I know you wanted to protect me," she continued, "but I
almost wish you had taken it directly to the police so I
wouldn't have to deal with it. What they've done this time
is so disgusting that I can't let them get away with it."
We all sat in silence, Sarah deep in thought.
"How long do you plan to be here?" she asked.
"We were planning to go back to the Coast in the morning,"
Eric told her.
"Could you stay a couple of extra days? I can't talk about
this to anybody else, so I really need you."
"Of course, Sarah," I spoke for the first time.
"We'll do anything we can," Eric offered, going over to give
her a hug.
"I need a little time to think," she said, sitting straighter
in her chair. "Can you get me copies of those tapes by
morning?"
"I'll bring them over later myself," Eric said.
"Keep a copy yourselves," she cautioned, "when I corner them,
I believe my brothers will be capable of anything and I want
insurance."
"We've got two copies with us and another at home," Eric said.
We rose to leave. Sarah got up too, and took both of us in
her arms. "Nobody but you two would have given me a chance
to work this out. There is no way to thank you, so I won't
try. Another thing. If you don't like the way I handle
this, you have my blessing to do whatever you feel is right."
"We love you, Sarah," I said.
Wanting to get his "delivery" over with, Eric turned right
around and took the tapes back to her.
When he got back, he was much more cheerful. "That's one
strong lady," he said. "I can't believe how resilient she
is. I think she's already got a plan worked out."
"How do you feel now?" I asked.
"Kinda mixed up," he said. "I'm relieved that we've turned
the whole mess over to her, but sad that we had to hit her
with it. I also think that it's time we got on with our own
lives. We have some catching up to do."
Our first shots were therapeutic, relieving the pressure that
had built up. The volume of Eric's ejaculate was so great
that I gagged for the first time ever. I just couldn't
swallow fast enough. Eric had his problems too. I noticed
him struggling to down my copious spurts.
After the pressure was off, we made love.
- - - - -
Sarah called in early afternoon, asking us to come over for
an early dinner.
Her eyes were twinkling. She must have gotten her way.
"I've been kind of busy," she grinned. "Would you like to
hear what I did?"
Of course! We were both dying of curiosity, but controlled
ourselves, Eric saying "If you'd like to tell us."
"Edward and John showed up this morning as ordered," she
began. "I sent them into the library to watch the tape.
They came out looking like they'd seen ghosts, but,
unfortunately, chose to go on the offensive. They demanded
that I give them the tapes, which I graciously offered to do
after telling them that there were other copies in existence.
"There were physical threats, then they tried reason - what
would happen to ME if their secrets got out. I pointed out
that I wasn't the one who would be spending my life behind
bars, and that I'd survived worse.
"Then I sat them down and told them what was going to happen."
She rested for a moment, then continued. "Some time ago, I
told you that I had ways of finding out where they had their
money hidden. Well, I did find out, and I know where it is
and how much. I handed them a list, and told them,
truthfully, that all of those accounts were frozen, and that
all of the money would be given to the UN Health Organization
for medicines in the third world. They believed me because
they know I don't bluff.
"For the final humiliation, I told them that they would sign
irrevocable consent forms to receive drug treatments.
"There's a drug, I forget the name of it, that is occasionally
prescribed for violent sex offenders. It eliminates all
sexual desires when taken regularly. They will undergo that
treatment which will render them harmless and remove their
threat to society."
"How can you be sure that they'll continue the treatment?"
Eric asked.
"One of my late husband's associates helped me with that.
He's retired, but his son took over the practice, and can't
be bought, so I trust him. If Edward and John don't come in
for monthly injections, he will notify my attorneys and the
tapes will be turned over. The Doctor's a lot younger than
they are, so will be around long after I'm gone if my
brothers happen to outlive me."
"Have they signed the consent forms?" Eric asked.
"Not yet. They have 24 hours to do so. What do you think of
my solution?"
"Does this drug really work?" I asked.
"I'm told that it's highly effective in suppressing the libido
whenever it's been used," she said. "By no means am I ruling
out the possibility of their eventually being prosecuted. One
slip or slight balk on their part and those tapes get
delivered. I don't care what the consequences are for me,
those men cannot continue to inflict damage on innocent
children."
"We'll keep an eye on them too," Eric assured her.
For now, the subject was closed. The only remaining question
was whether they'd submit to treatment.
- - - - -
"Are you satisfied?" I asked Eric.
"No," he said candidly. "I don't trust those two SOBs any
further than I can throw a grand piano. I'd still like to
cut their dicks off!"
"We'll keep an eye on them. They're so goddam arrogant that
if they do intend to try anything, they won't waste any
time. If they do, we go straight to the cops."
"I'm afraid that's going to happen," he said. "Soon."
"I'm not so sure that the punishment Sarah's giving them fits
the crime," I commented. "She's probably found the bulk of
their money but by no means ALL of it. It would surprise me
if this causes them the slightest discomfort."
"Probably not," he agreed, "but can you imagine having your
sex drive removed? That's scary!"
"With you around, I don't think any drug would ever work on
me," I kidded him.
"I just thought of something," he said. "If anybody'd know
about that drug, it'd be Mom. I'm gonna give her a call,
it's still early out there."
When he got through talking with her, he was very serious.
"It works, most of the time, but it isn't foolproof.
Different people react to the drug differently. Mom was REAL
curious about why I wanted to know about it."
"What'd you tell her?"
"I gave her some lame excuse," he giggled. "She'll be on my
case until I come up with something a little more believable."
"I'll see if I can help you come up with something," I told
him.
Eric pondered a minute, then burst into hysterical laughter.
"Boy, are we ever in trouble!" he said between laughs.
"How come?"
"I don't think anybody told Mom and Dad that they didn't have
to wear the beacon watches and carry the panic buttons any
longer."
"Oh shit!" I said.
"As soon as we get home, I'm going to make a big deal out of
it. If we don't, they'll never believe me again!" he said.
"Better talk with Bob first," I suggested. "He may have told
them."
"I'll handle it," he said, still laughing.
- - - - -
We waited to hear from Sarah. We'd promised to stick around
until everything was settled, by now it looked like Edward and
John were dragging their feet.
We were anxious to get home, and neither of us was very good
at waiting. At noon, Eric called Sarah for an update. He
learned that the signed and notarized agreements to undergo
drug treatment were on their way by messenger, and she
expected them to arrive momentarily. She'd call us as soon
as they got there.
We got ready to go home. We'd stop by her apartment on our
way to the airport.
We didn't have much longer to wait.
Sarah seemed relieved. "I hope this whole thing is behind
us," she said, showing us the signed documents.
She insisted on serving tea. We were all tired of talking
about Edward and John, so the conversation wandered.
"We met your nephew at the Grand Ball," Eric said to her,
going off on a new subject.
"I don't have a nephew," Sarah answered.
Eric glanced at me then continued. "He said he was Alan
Sloan, your nephew."
Sarah thought for a moment. "I don't believe I know anyone
by that name," she said.
To be continued.
To be continued.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I appreciate hearing your comments on the
story, my writing, and anything you would like to offer -
good or not so good. Also ideas and plot suggestions are
welcome. Send me a message at orrinrush@yahoo.com