Date: Thu, 9 Dec 1999 23:23:06 +0800
From: Emellie Giggles <egiggles@moose-mail.com>
Subject: The Gentlemen's Club: Enrique

THE GENTLEMEN'S CLUB
Enrique

By Lady Poetess. Copyright c 1999.

Feel free to reproduce and distribute as long as you leave the credits and
the author's note below intact. If you somehow make money out of this,
well, good for you but please send some to me at egiggles@moose-mail.com!

Author's note:

This is actually a part of an ongoing fantasy fan-fiction about a fictional
group of friends in New York whose weekly poker games form the basis of
their story of finding love and laughter. These friends are - under
inexplicable circumstances! - dead ringers from some music and movie
celebrities, obscure or well- known, that I find worth a write or two. The
men and their lives depicted here have nothing in common with the real
people they are based on apart from their appearances and names. I am not
speculating on their sexual orientation or personal past. Again, everything
is strictly fictional, apart from the character's good looks. Suing me is a
waste of time, as frankly, to be blunt, I'm penniless.

ONE

He really couldn't believe he was doing this. Thomas Gibson looked around
him in bewilderment. Legend had it that the refugees of the Golden Circus
Era of the early 1900's had banded together and started a settlement in
Achelon, but Thomas finally believed that story. Everyone around him was
dramatically circus-freakish, for the want of a kinder word.

   "Here we are, in an alternate universe," his colleague and best friend
Tobias Stephens said, his thick English accent a cool contrast to the
gibberish chatter around them both.  "I've never seen so many circus people
in one place. Is that really a woman with three eyes?"

   "Nah, that's just a henna-painted tattoo." Thomas loosened his tie,
suddenly feeling very stupid in his shirt and suit. "Where's the man sent
to welcome us?"

   At that moment, there was a sudden puff of smoke and a loud
thunderclap. Thomas dropped his briefcase onto his toes and Tobias gave a
startled cry. When the smoke cleared to some stray whistle and applause
from the people around them, Thomas saw a medium-height, somewhat
brown-skinned man in simple T-shirt and jeans smiling at them. "Gentlemen,
welcome to Achelon," the man said, bowing theatrically.

   Thomas recognized the thick accent as the voice he had spoken over the
phone three days before. "Mr. Iglesias," he said stiffly. "You're twenty
minutes and," he glanced at his watch, "fifteen seconds late."


Enrique Iglesias really shouldn't be here. He should be in Vegas,
entertaining an adoring audience who lined his pockets with cash to see him
escape from a giant aquarium filled with acid. Aunt Zelda, bless her gypsy
heart, however, had insisted that her nephew come over and (to quote her)
save the good name of Achelon. It seemed skeptics and scientific upstarts
were coming to Achelon to demystify the myth of the circus, and Enrique's
mother's family refused to allow that to happen.

   "Achelon needs the tourists," Aunt Zelda had rattled in Spanish. "If
these two silly gringos come over and write in their books that we are all
ragtag phonies and tell everyone that we shit and piss like everyone else,
no one would come."

   "Aunt Zel, but it is you who invited them to come expose you!" Enrique
had protested.  He wasn't in a good mood, especially when the phone call
came when he was about to finally get into Richie Louie's pants. Damn, he
so wanted to discover for himself Richie's legendary skills in fellatio.

   "It's publicity, silly boy. Achelon's 150 years old this month and we
want the scientists to write that they are in awe of us. That will be
great, ya?"

   "Let me guess. The town council never think further than that point."

   "Well, I did tell them my nephew is a great magician. We all decide that
if anyone can distract these two and make them write nice things about us,
it's you. So be a good boy and come on down. I'll make you your favorite
corn custard cakes."

   Corn custard cakes. Yummy. Enrique was definitely tempted, for no one
made home- cooked food like Aunt Zelda and it had been years since Enrique
enjoyed home-cooked meals. "But Aunt Zel, I'm in Vegas! I have shows to
perform."

   "I'm sure a smart boy like you can get out of it."

   He could. It took six hours of hard, sweaty sex to convince Barney to
give him an impromptu vacation. Degrading really. He had washed his dick
probably a thousand times and still couldn't quite shake off the feeling of
being used. Perhaps it was time to sack Barney and get a lesbian
manager. The last heterosexual female manager didn't quite work out either.

   Now, he fought the urge to yawn as he opened the door to the room
prepared for the man named Thomas Gibson. "This was actually my room when I
visited Aunt Zelda when I was a boy," he told Thomas. "Well, I'll leave you
to get unpacked. Dinner's at six. You'll hear the dinner bell."

   "Thanks."

   Enrique looked at the man's smooth, unruffled face and wondered if
anything could disturb that cool arrogance. He hadn't felt this feeling of
being looked down upon since his days in boarding school. Yet there was a
hint of dimples and those high cheekbones gave the man's otherwise
ordinarily handsome face some character. "So, you're one of those people
who wastes the taxpayers' money by investigating paranormal things?"

     "No," Thomas said, pulling the curtains apart. "I'm just a
physicist. I'm not the one you should distract. Toby's the one who wants to
dissect your family and friends. That is, I trust your plan is to distract
us, right? Lead us astray, blind us to the truth, that sort of thing?"

   "I'm afraid you caught me red-handed there. You're ten steps ahead of
me, in fact. I have no idea how to distract the both of you. Yet."

   "Well, I'm sure you'll think of something."

   "I'm good at thinking up something." Enrique watched the man sit on the
back and open his briefcase. He blinked. Something had changed, he
realized. There was something about Thomas that he had failed to notice
until now. He caught himself glancing at the way Thomas shifted across the
bed, the fabric of the slacks stretching intriguingly along the shapely
thighs, and then the fabric bunched at the apex of Thomas' thighs gave a
very nice illusion of a tremendous erection. Enrique felt the room spun,
and sat on a chair before his knees gave way.

   Strange, but Thomas was gorgeous. How come he had never noticed that
intelligent air of befuddlement around that man? Enrique had a hidden
weakness for nerds - he had a crush on his Chemistry tutor back in his
schooldays - and when Thomas took out a pair of thick dark-rimmed glasses,
Enrique almost creamed his pants. This erection definitely beat the one he
had when an old boyfriend surprised him with two other willing studs in his
bed on his twenty-first birthday. Or the time another ex-boyfriend blew him
in public, in a Ferris wheel, of all places. Or the Most Erotic Event of
his life, finally scoring with his old Chemistry tutor in his high school
reunion party.

   He was getting the hard-on of his life because of Thomas' glasses?


"Aunt Zel!" he yelled, slamming the door behind him. "Come out, you old
bag!"

   Aunt Zel was having an audience of five old people, not one under the
age of 55. The town council, Enrique recognized them. And from the look on
their faces, not one of them was probably discussing town politics when he
interrupted them. The three six- packs, bingo cards, and a huge bowl of
pretzels suggested otherwise.

   "What is it Juju?"

   Enrique cringed. No one called him by that disgusting name after he was
old enough to beat up the boys who called him that. "You put a love spell
on me!"

   "I did not!" Zelda Ruminov, proclaimed White Witch, answered
indignantly. "As if I need to sneak up on you young people. I have to beat
off the crowd begging for my love potions with a broomstick!" She narrowed
her eyes, suddenly crafty. "Eh, why do you think I put a love potion on
you? You feel this thing with one of the two gringos?"

   "Zel, not with an audience!" Enrique sat down, feeling that he had
definitely lost control of the situation. Aunt Zel did that to him all the
time, for which he loved that old witch dearly. "Hey, old people, get
lost!"

   "That is so rude," Aunt Zel said, reaching out and twisting his ear
painfully. "Apologize at once."

   Later, after Zel had dispersed her friends, they sat over a cup of warm
chocolate. "You sure you didn't put some sort of love potion in my drink?"
Enrique asked suspiciously.

   "No. Ask me one more time, you silly boy, and I will pour the hot drink
on your lap.  It's not love potion, it's the Time."

   "What?"

   "The Time. Every one of the Ruminovs has it, and your mother must have
passed it to you. Good for her! Never knew why she married your stupid ass
of a father. Miri, I told her, you can just have an affair, tup that man,
but don't marry him! But no, she marries him and gets her heart broken."

   "Yes, yes. But what about this Time thing?" Enrique had heard his aunt
rant about his father's womanizing and his mother - Zelda's sister -
weeping. Not that Miri actually wept. She could equal her husband's
scorecard when it came to adultery. Other children rebelled against their
strict parents by screwing around. Enrique screwed around too, but thanks
to juvenile rebellion instincts, he was now stuck with a yearning for
monogamy that he couldn't outgrew.

   "Oh, the Time is just a stupid word used to describe the feeling when we
Ruminovs have when we have met our lifelong mate. The world spins and we
lose our breath. We start seeing no one else but the mate we have just
met. It's destiny."

   "I'm going to have that arrogant mule for a mate?"

   "Which mule?"

   "None of your business," Enrique muttered. He refused to believe in
superstitions, of course. The Time his arse. It was just lust and the fact
that he hadn't actually screwed anyone since the aborted quickie with
Richie. That was a month ago. Strange, really, for he had gone without any
for longer time that this, but he had never been popping hard like this
before. Even now, the thought of Thomas in his bed, that arrogant demeanor
reduced to begging need as Enrique pounded into him, Thomas clawing at
Enrique's back as he screamed for Enrique to give it to him harder, more,
more, more ohyesohyesohyes.

   "Enrique!"
   He jumped, jolted from his pleasant daydreams, spilling chocolate onto
his lap. "Fuck!"  he shouted when the boiling hot liquid scorched his
erection.

   "That will cool you down. Now be a good boy and seduce that man that
catch your fancy. Remember though, if he's like your father, don't bother
beyond morning after."


TWO

Thomas watched the boy swallowed the third sword. How the boy could squeeze
three sharp blades into his throat is beyond Thomas' immediate
comprehension. He had tested the blades - they were razor sharp and gave
him a small nick for his trouble.

   "It was all a matter of muscular dexterity," Toby said, snapping a photo
of the boy.

   "How do you know?"

   "I'm psychic."

   Toby used that as a reason for everything. Thomas had met Toby in a
think-tank, when Thomas was a researcher and Toby a voluntary research
subject. Toby could detect auras, the paranormal researcher had informed
Thomas, and somehow Thomas and Toby became friends over lunch. Toby was now
a freelance paranormal researcher, which explained his presence in Achelon.

   "Come on Toby, don't tell me you're actually interested in researching
about these people," Thomas said, gesturing around him. "These are simple
people with some few extra talents like sword swallowing and
sleight-of-hand. Not exactly the mind-readers and telekinetic and Uri
Gellar-wannabes you usually expose as frauds."

   "No. I came here for a reason. In fact I wouldn't have come here if
Zelda Ruminov hadn't offered me a tempting prize on a silver platter." Toby
continued clicking away at his camera.

   Thomas often wondered at the irony of a psychic being a skeptic of the
paranormal.  Toby was the worst of the skeptics; he couldn't resist at the
chance of exposing the impossible to be exposed. "Can I be let in on the
secret plan then?"

   "Oh, it's no big deal. It's our tour guide Enrique. He's the big fish."

   "He? He looks normal." Thomas thought of the man. Yes, Enrique looked
normal.  Normal height, normal looks (except for that prominent mole on his
cheek), normal build.  Great butt and body though.

   "He's one of the most successful act in magic, although he keeps a low
profile. I've seen him in action though. He is great, almost a throwback to
the glory of Houdini and three times as reckless."

   "Nice, but how to you intend to do whatever it is you want to do to
him?"

   "I just want to watch him. If he's actually a true magician, he can't
help it but to perform minor acts of magic that could either be otherwise
impossible or really magic. I intend to see that and then get into his
psyche."

   "Sounds painful." Thomas caught sight of Enrique walking out of a
store. He ignored the fact that his heart gave a little jump at the sight
of the man in a white shirt that clung to his frame, displaying broad,
well-formed shoulders and narrow waist. And the faded jeans gave him an
authentic rugged look, and damned if those jeans weren't sprayed on those
muscular, shapely thighs indecently. The sizeable bulge in the groin was
obscene.

   A group of children surrounded Enrique, pleading something in
Spanish. Enrique's well-polished laughter and theatrical gesture suggested
that this was a routine event.  Thomas watched as Enrique gracefully turned
his right wrist nonchalantly. "How did he do that?" Thomas murmured when
where Enrique's hand was empty, there was now a large bouquet of lollypops.

   "Maybe he stuffed them in his crotch," Toby murmured as they watched
Enrique dispense the lollypops.


Enrique was going mad. His cock was killing him. His hormones were driving
him insane. Take him! Take him! they screamed in his mind whenever he
caught the sight of Thomas in the streets. It was pathetic when he started
to make sure he was where Thomas would be. From the amused look of the
other man Toby, Enrique guessed he wasn't exactly subtle in his
act. Perhaps his tongue was lolling from his mouth without him knowing.

   Alone, he sat in his aunt's study and stared at the night sky outside
the window. As usual, his thoughts were centered on his favorite topic of
the moment: Thomas. He wondered if the man slept naked. He imagined Thomas
naked, trussing around in bed, those naked thighs dislodging the blankets
to expose his nudity. Thomas' cock would be hard as a rock. How long would
Thomas' cock be anyway?

   He was babbling even in his thoughts. Really, it was going too far. He
would have to either fuck Thomas or get a substitute. Somehow he knew a
substitute would never do.  He reached under his T-shirt and rubbed his
stomach absently. His cock was throbbing like hell, causing a huge lump in
his jeans, and he rubbed it absently, feeling his balls tighten slightly
upon contact.

   He hadn't played with himself since he'd discovered the fun of the real
thing. And he had discovered that in the very same bed Thomas was sleeping
in. In fact, he could just imagine that night when he opened the window and
let the boy next door in. He shut his eyes and cupped his erection,
savoring the anticipation of a good jerk-off, even as he imagined his first
lover touching it, taking it into his mouth, and- "Bloody hell," Enrique
thought, opening his eyes when he realized somehow the lover's face had
taken that of Thomas'.

   "This has to stop."

   "What has to stop?" Thomas said from the doorway.

   Good thing the back of the chair shielded Enrique's touching of his cock
from Thomas' view. Enrique looked and swallowed as pure heat seared his
senses.

   Thomas stood there wearing only baggy jogging pants. He smiled
sheepishly. "Look, I can't sleep. I thought I'd go find a book to read. If
I'm bothering you, I'll just go."

   Egad, Enrique thought, adjusting his probably lust-crazed and fearsome
face into a more pleasant one. It wasn't easy, not when Thomas stood there
with his fair upper body exposed like a meal to be devoured. Enrique's
mouth watered at the sight of those dark brown nipples puckering like
luscious cherries amidst the pale smooth and almost hairless chest. It
didn't matter that Thomas' body wasn't perfectly muscled or his abdominal
muscles weren't as perfectly corrugated and sculpted. When the man looked
like that, his dark, almost black hair carelessly rumpled and his
blue-green eyes hinting at intelligence, oblivious to his own sex appeal,
Enrique wanted nothing more than to howl in frustration.

   He should be noble. If Thomas didn't come any nearer, Enrique would be a
nice gentleman and leave him alone. Until maybe ten minutes later.

   Thomas walked quietly to sit opposite Enrique.

   Enrique looked at the sight of Thomas' bare feet treading the carpeted
floor and thought it was a far sexier sight than anything in the world.

   "Are you okay?" Thomas patted Enrique's knee, the touch sending
white-hot shock to Enrique's senses.

   Too bad. It was destiny. Thomas refused to stay away and now Enrique
would have him.

   Enrique snapped his fingers and a stalk of blood red rose appeared
between his fingers.  "Here."

   "You have that hidden somewhere in your sleeve," Thomas said, but he
smiled as he took the rose.

   "Oh yeah?" Enrique snapped his fingers again and produced a bouquet of
the same type of roses. "How about this?"

   "Toby said you'd probably hide them in your crotch."

   Enrique's eyes followed Thomas' as the man lowered his lashes at
Enrique's blatant erection pushing against the confines of his jeans. He
saw the almost feminine eyelashes tremble, and the man's Adam apple
quivered.

   "Maybe I should go," Thomas said shakily, trying to stand.

   "Toby will be disappointed you gave in so easily. You're supposed to try
to discover how I do those roses. And this." Enrique stretched and pulled a
white rose out of thin air.  He followed that with a book.

   "That's the book I was reading." Thomas sputtered. "How did you do
that?"

   "Like you said, I hid it on my body." Enrique sat up and pulled his
T-shirt over his head. "See? Nothing here."

   He was proud of his body. He knew without vanity that many found it
sexually irresistible. Hell, after years of body sculpting and workout's in
gyms, his body had better be perfect. Placing a hand on the line bisecting
his chest, he smiled. "Why not frisk me and see if I indeed hide some
things in my crotch?"

   "Look, I'm not looking for - Enrique!" Thomas gasped when Enrique pulled
him down to the carpet with him. "Look, I am not."

  "If you're not gay, I'll teach you to be one," Enrique said, growled
actually. He placed his hands on Thomas' arms, clamping them hard and
pinning Thomas' hands to the floor.  "Tell me you don't feel it between us
too." He placed his knees at each side of Thomas and lowered himself until
their chests are flattened together and Enrique's cock was pushing hungrily
at Thomas'. "I'll make you want me. Want this," he said, grinding his cock
hard against Thomas. "Feel my cock? It's so filled with need. You made me
want you. You make my cock hard as a rock and my balls full of lust. You
made me want you, mad for you, and by God, you will give yourself to me."

   "Oh," Thomas could only gasp when Enrique's mouth sucked at his Adam's
apple, not- too-gently nibbling at it and the skin around it. "Oh God, what
are you doing to me?"

   Enrique's reply was to caress, tug, pull, and fondle those nipples that
maddened him and made his mouth water even as he explored Thomas' throat,
his tongue burning the man's senses with its caress. His thighs slowly
insinuated between Thomas', and without any coherent thought, the latter
had spread himself wide to allow Enrique's fingers to rub at the teasing
groove between his legs.

   "Careful, I haven't really - ohhhh!" Thomas threw his head back when
Enrique's mouth began kissing and tasting his body, slowly moving down his
stomach. The mouth stopped at the navel, Enrique's tongue delving into the
shallow hole. Thomas clenched his buttocks and lifted his lower body
insistently when Enrique tugged at the man's waistband.

  Then Enrique's mouth found Thomas' inner thigh, that rough tongue moving
along the sensitive skin, leaving a wet trail of moisture from the upper
thigh down to the inner knee. Then Enrique backed up, until his face was
buried in the heated juncture of Thomas' thighs. When that tongue started
rimming Thomas' puckering ring muscles, tracing the curvature of the ring
of muscles that surrounded the hole, Thomas gave a shuddering cry. Then
that tongue speared right in, shocking Thomas with the sudden roughness of
the tongue's texture and the heat of Enrique's mouth penetrating his
yearning anus. He grabbed his legs and pulled them as high and as far apart
as flexibility allowed him. He let his head fall back to the carpet and
shutting his eyes as Enrique began thrusting that tongue in and out of him;
stopping just almost outside to move in a circular motion that stretched
Thomas wide, before thrusting back in.

   It was a motion too shallow. Too brief. Thomas was aching inside, and
there was a pulsating need in his loins that could only be eased by deeper
penetration. "Enrique, please." he began in a choked voice.

   "I know." Enrique raised himself.

   Thomas shut his eyes, almost dreading the moment he felt the man's broad
and moist head of his penis fitting against his sphincter. He felt Enrique
push, and the agony that ripped through him caused him to bite his tongue
and dug his nails into Enrique's tensed biceps. Then somehow, he felt
himself give, and it was a shock when he was suddenly filled so deep up, so
good, so fucking good. Enrique gasped when Thomas tightened his muscles
around that throbbing penis, sheathing him in a burning hot furnace of a
grip.  "Move, damn you," he hissed, clenching his ass and flexing it even
as he gyrated his hips in shallow thrusts, "move!"

   "You're so tight, so hot," Enrique choked back, every muscle of his body
tensed. "I'll come if you don't stop moving."

   "Then come, you bastard!" Thomas cried, his gyrations became more
frenzied as the ache in him begged for relief. "Come, you fucking son of a
bitch. Give it to me! Fill me up."

   Sweat rolled down Enrique's forehead to fall on Thomas' chest as Enrique
thrust one, two, three shallow thrusts, then he threw his head back, eyes
shut and teeth gritted hard as he arched his back and plunged even deeper
up Thomas' heated tunnel. He shuddered, biting back a scream as his semen
surged forth in his ejaculation, flooding Thomas' anus and feeding the
man's screaming need. Upon feeling the hot liquid pouring into him,
something inside Thomas snapped and he cried out in pleasure-pain-relief
when his own orgasm racked him, spilling his semen down his thighs and all
over his stomach.

   Enrique collapsed onto Thomas, breathing heavily. Thomas ran his fingers
through Enrique's short dark hair, listening to their heavy breathing
slowing in the aftermath of their coupling. At length, Enrique gave a short
laugh and said, "Guess what?"

   "What?"

   "We didn't even kiss," Enrique murmured and almost timidly touched his
lips to Thomas'. In doing so, he lifted his hips, letting his half-erect
cock pull a few inches out of Thomas. He slowly plunged back in, blood
filling his cock to tumescence once again, as his tongue slipped between
Thomas' lips.


"Oh God!"

   Enrique opened his eyes reluctantly. The sunlight streaming into the
study momentarily blinded him, and it was a moment before he could make out
Tobias Stephens standing at the doorway in shock.

   "What?" Thomas suddenly came to wakefulness beneath Enrique. "Toby!"

   "I told you to get him to trust you, not to sleep with him!" Toby
sputtered, hand on the doorknob.

   "What?" Enrique reeled. It couldn't be. He threw himself off Thomas,
heedless of his nudity. "You're just seducing me to learn my secrets?"

   "No, I didn't. You started it, not me," Thomas shot back. He too jumped
to his feet, with a pained grimace.

   "You're sore." Of course Thomas hadn't done that. Enrique cursed himself
to thinking the worst of Thomas so easily. Anyone could see that that man
was crazy about him. "I'll get you a warm bath."

   "Forget it. You don't trust me, even after I let you," Thomas
blushed. "well, let you did what you did to me. Forget it. It's obvious
last night don't mean anything to you."

   "Wait! Thomas, I. fuck!" Enrique cursed foully when Thomas and Toby
ignored him and slammed the door shut on his face.



THREE

"He's still outside." Toby looked up from the book he was reading and
looked out the window. "And it's raining."

   "So?" Thomas stared miserably at the wall.

   "I mean, it's obvious the guy is nuts about you. I'm sorry for making
him think the worst about you, but that's in the past. Two weeks ago,
really. That guy has been standing vigil twenty-four hours every day, rain
or shine, for fifteen days straight. Surely you owe him at least a `Fuck
off!'?"

   Thomas stood up and looked out at the man sitting on the stairs of the
outside yard of the inn, not moving even when rain poured like hell. "He
will get a flu."

   "Are you going to invite him in? I can always go downstairs to chat with
the innkeeper for an hour or so."

   "I don't know. I hardly know him." Thomas paused and looked down at the
man waiting. Enrique had caused quite a talk with his vigil, not budging
from his self-imposed punishment. Aunt Zel sent someone to send him his
meals, and Thomas didn't want to know how Enrique answered the call of
nature. It was also a nuisance, as Thomas found himself unwilling to face
his feelings for that man, much less meeting the man, and hence he too had
cooped himself up in his room. Now, he looked at Enrique and a thought hit
him. Enrique had been waiting for fifteen days, six hours, twenty-four
minutes and thirty- seven seconds. There was no guarantee that he would
wait any longer in the next minute, was there? What if Enrique got tired
and just walked away?

   Thomas found that he didn't like that. He didn't like unpredictable
patterns in his life, and Enrique was unpredictable. He didn't like the
idea of not having Enrique around him.  Magic did somehow had its appeal.

   "Toby."

   "Yeah?"

   "Get lost for a few hours."