Date: Mon, 2 Oct 2000 15:20:33 +0800
From: Lady Poetess <egiggles@moose-mail.com>
Subject: The Gentlemen's Club: Hugh

THE GENTLEMEN'S CLUB
Hugh

By and copyright Lady Poetess


Disclaimer
This story is entirely fictitious and has no resemblance to anyone dead or alive.

PROLOGUE

James Marsden hated being called 'Jimmy'. His mother called him that, as
did those who used and discarded him in his long-ago life. It only seemed
apt that the blackmail letter addressed him as 'Jimmy'.

   He was surprised that he was calm as he read the letter. He even
contemplated -- quite rationally -- whether he should burn the letter and
forget about it, or do what the letter demanded and get out of his
employer's life. It was a silly demand for a blackmail letter, but James
wasn't amused.

   His eyes scanned the rest of the letter that detailed the past he tried
so hard to flee from and to forget. When he finished, he shook -- with
fear, he guessed, since he wasn't actually feeling anything at the moment.

   Shock, he told himself. The panic would no doubt hit soon.

   But panic never came. After all, the blackmailer knew him well. James
Marsden was a coward, and he would never, ever dare see Hugh Jackman turn
away from him in disgust or horror.

   Very well, he had been running for what seemed all his life. He could do
that again.


ONE

Maverick player Hugh Jackman was a classic success story. An orphan, who
from Australia ended up in America, he started from an office boy into what
he was today, one of the more successful power brokers in America. Only 32,
he had already seven ailing companies on his credentials that he had bailed
out of financial difficulties. The Bailer, as he was called, was
acknowledged as ruthless, industrious, business-savvy, yet he remained a
mysterious figure. His height -- six feet three -- only added to his
forbidding stature.

   No one seemed to know Hugh Jackman, his past or his present private
life, and he was never seen with a partner male or female. When he went on
vacations, his secretary and colleagues never disclosed his location. And
the Bailer himself was a man who rarely spoke to the press, indulging
himself in the luxury of using a spokesperson instead. Yet by all accounts,
he was a hard but not unkind taskmaster, not well liked but generally
agreed by people who had worked with him as a capable man deserving of
their respect and admiration.

   Who was Hugh Jackman?

   Those who wondered might be surprised to realize that at the very
moment, the mysterious Hugh Jackman was reading the shopping list his
housekeeper had prepared for him, trying to figure out whether he should
get the green bottle of detergent or the blue one. What was the difference
between extra-fragrance and extra-softness anyway? Clad in simple brown
jacket over woolen checkered lumberjack shirt, he looked more like a
construction worker than a man worth twelve million dollars, which was how
he liked it.

   Since he could afford it, he decided to take both bottles. If one found
it odd that he should be doing the shopping for his housekeeper, Hugh
didn't at all. He could have told, if he was an eloquent man, that he
enjoyed these simple daily acts. Maybe people would be more surprised if
Hugh confessed that he enjoyed weekend shopping trips taken with James
Marsden, his housekeeper.

   He knew what to expect even as he drove up the driveway of his
moderately large house. James would have everything ready for him. He knew,
even as he opened the front door and smelled the air, that the house would
smell of food, cleanliness, and warmth, just the way Hugh believed a house
should smell. It might sound crazy but sometimes he would stand at the
doorway and take in his home, as if he couldn't believe that he would
actually be living in such a brightly lit, warm, and nice-smelling home.

   And dear James, who even now would be in the kitchen preparing for
Hugh's return. Whistling tunelessly, Hugh climbed up to his bedroom to
change and shower. James would have a change of clothes put out on his bed,
another change of work clothes hanging on the wall, and fresh underwear and
socks always in their respective drawers.

   When Hugh came down for dinner, he placed his hand on James' shoulder
and squeezed playfully. "Ham sandwiches?" he asked hopefully, peering into
the microwave Plexiglas pane.

   James was packing away the things Hugh had bought. "Yeah, and there's
some of the ice cream you said you wanted in the freezer."

   "Nice." Hugh grinned stupidly as he studied the sandwiches in the
microwave oven. He didn't recall telling James he wanted the ice cream
directly, but that was the beauty of the housekeeper. James was so good in
anticipating and meeting James' whims and needs.

   If twenty-seven year old James Marsden's stunningly boyish good looks
were more suited to gracing a fashion spread than cleaning house, James
didn't let on.  The man seemed content to be housekeeper to Hugh, and Hugh
wouldn't want to rock the boat by asking James to spread his wings. The
housekeeper came into Hugh's life five years ago when James walked into
Hugh's office begging for a job, any job. Hugh didn't ask, he just gave
James a probationary employment for a month.

   One month stretched into five years. James had the knack of making
Hugh's previously desolate life homely and warm, a home Hugh had only
dreamed of.  Hugh couldn't even remember his life before James.

   "I really like the salad dressing you use," he told James.



To James Marsden, Hugh Jackman's house was a sanctuary. In the solid
presence of the walls, he could pretend that his past never existed, and
that his life started the day Hugh gave him the job as the man's
housekeeper. All his life, James had only one asset -- his physical
beauty. He couldn't do anything else, except that he could cook and clean
house very well. Hugh valued him, James would like to pretend, and hence,
in Hugh's protective presence, James felt free for the first time in his
life.

   All illusions, of course, that were easily shattered the morning when
the blackmail note arrived. James' realization and fears became gospel --
his presence and past had allowed Hugh's business rivals to strike at the
man. That James couldn't allow. He would rather die than to see Hugh
hurt. Dying was a rather dramatic gesture that Hugh wouldn't appreciate
(and James didn't want to die, in all actuality), thus James decided to
remove himself from Hugh's presence instead.

   It terrified him to strike out on his own again, but for Hugh whom he
owed his life, he would do it.

   It was agony smiling thinly through Hugh's good-natured banters when
James' own emotions were at turmoil. But it was much worse when James
timidly told the man of his impending loss of a housekeeper. Hugh's face
was impassive, except for the brief flash of -- pain? anger?
disappointment? -- that passed through the man's eyes.

   "Will you tell me why?" Hugh asked.

   "It's not you. It's just me," James said through the choked emotions
welling in him.

   "I'm sorry," Hugh said.

   "Why? It's me who should be sorry. You were so good to me, Hugh, I don't
want to leave. But I have to." James' couldn't speak aloud. He didn't want
to see what the notion of leaving Hugh for the terrifying outside world was
costing him.

   Hugh only looked away, breaking the eye contact. "Well, go then."

   With that, James was lost.



TWO

One week later

Hugh Jackman found his errant housekeeper closing up the drive-in burger
stall two minutes to ten. Covering his brief elation at the sight of the
man under his mask of nonchalance, he drove up to the window.

   "You walked out from an overpaid post for this?" Hugh asked as casually
as he could.

   James jumped, then relaxed when he saw who was at the window. "Hugh."

   "Hi," Hugh said.

   "Hi. No one's making you dinner?"

   "No." Hugh smiled as best as he could in his state of emotions. He was
overjoyed at seeing James, hopeful, wistful in dreaming that maybe James
would come back into his life and make everything fine again. At once
furious at James for walking out on him and relieved at seeing him again,
Hugh had to be careful or he would degenerate into a blathering mess before
James. "You're closed."

   "Yeah. But if you like, I can -- "

   "Come have dinner with me," Hugh said, then hesitated "And pretend I'm
just me and not your ex-boss? I could use the company."

   Against his better judgement, James couldn't fight his elation at the
man's suggestion. Here was Hugh, real Hugh. And tonight, surely it wouldn't
do any harm to spend some time together? Just friends?

   "Where to?" he asked.

   "Well, maybe we can go back to my place and you make me some dinner,"
Hugh asked sheepishly. "And we can watch some horror movies together."

   It was all James could do to walk away from Hugh's place. He couldn't go
back there, but he couldn't tell Hugh no either, not when the man was
looking at him that way, his handsome face daring while pleading James to
have pity on him and say yes. James' eyes noticed then the small coffee
stain on Hugh's shirt.  How could he say no to Hugh?



"My favorite food," Hugh said happily before taking a bite on the pepper
ham sandwich. "I'll double your pay, triple it, James, please be my
housekeeper once again."

   "Why can't you find another housekeeper?" James asked, sitting beside
Hugh on the couch with a bowl of popcorns in his hands.

   "Why should I when you've filled the position so well?" Hugh asked
back. "I like the way you cook and clean. This place is falling to bits
without you."

   "Come on, don't exaggerate," James said, trying not to look at Hugh's
questioning gaze. "I'm only a housekeeper."

   "I thought you were my friend," the other man said quietly. "Or is that
only on my part?"

   James didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "You're my friend," he
said. Truly, he had no idea how to tell Hugh how much the man had meant to
him, or if he could at all.

   "Then can we be friends still?" Hugh asked.

   To James, Hugh seemed even shy at the moment, incredible indeed as he
had never seen Hugh in any mood other than quiet contemplation or jovial
self- confidence. "Yes," he could only say.

   "And cook and clean for me?"

   James laughed, he couldn't help it. "Don't push your luck," he said
lightly.

   "Just another one who ran away then," Hugh murmured, reaching for the
remote control.

   "What did you say?"

   "Nothing."

   "I heard you say something about me running away," James told him.

   "Well, you did run away, didn't you?"

   An accusation, under which James deflated. "Yeah."

   "May I know why?" Hugh asked. "Not that it's anything, but I'd just like
to know why you ran away from me. For record's sake."

   He wasn't fooling James. "Hugh," James said in a heavy sigh. "I'm
sorry."

   "You're not the first," Hugh said, defensively. "So don't beat yourself
over it."

   "Want to tell me about it?"

   "If you'll tell me why you left."

   "Deal." James would regret this, but he wanted to know Hugh, to cherish
the intimate thoughts Hugh would share to last his life.

   "Well, everyone I grow to care for walk away, run from me
actually. Eventually.  If I want to be cliched, I can say it started the
day my parents died on me after promising to return. Or my friends in the
orphanages who got adopted, leaving me behind. Some very few ex-boyfriends
whom I care enough to sleep with, but they all walked out eventually. And I
can't stop them from leaving. Like you."  Hugh looked defiantly far away
across the room, his eyes hard and glittering. "I'd like to know why. Is it
me? All I want is a home I never had, clean sheets free from lice and
home-cooked food. And someone who would never walk away from me without a
glance behind. That's all. Is that too much to ask?" He smiled bitterly to
himself and shrugged, as if he was trying to make light of what he had just
told James. "Now you, why did you leave?"

   "If I don't leave, my past will be exposed, and you may get hurt. It's
blackmail. I don't know why, but they want me out of your life."

   "So you made it easy for them," Hugh pointed out. "You gave them what
they wanted."

   "I couldn't bear to see you hurt."

   "What is it about your past that could hurt me?" Hugh asked as calmly as
he could.

   James took a deep breath. "Marsden is my mother's surname -- I never
knew my father. My mother is a high-class call girl, and I was raised among
sex and drugs. I thought it was all a game, letting people flirt with
me. Then I believed a man whom I thought loved me as much as I loved
him. Turned out he didn't, and when I walked away, he didn't like it. So he
and six of his friends broke into my place one night and took turns on me."
He was amazed that he was saying this calmly. "And then they got careless
and let me get hold of the gun I kept in my bedside drawer. Lots of blood
and the bastards were all sons of prominent men.  There was a long court
case, all hushed since I was only seventeen then, but in the end I got off
on self-defense."

   "And for that, they think that could ruin me?" Hugh exclaimed
gently. "Oh James, you are too naïve."

   "I am, am I not?" James said bitterly. "I am so afraid. Working for you
is the first act that gives me peace. I'm no longer afraid when I'm in your
presence."

   "People did say I look like a hungry wolf," Hugh said.

   "You're taking my story better than I expected."

   "Well, I had that gun when I was fourteen," Hugh said. "So what if news
got out that my housekeeper shot someone before? I don't care."

   "I don't want to see you hurt."

   "You hurt me more by walking away," Hugh said bluntly. "I can't stand
coming home to this house. You are all over the place. I keep smelling the
food you cook and I imagine hearing you humming around the house. Sleeping
isn't the escape I need because then I dream of you instead. Am I crazy?"

   "Maybe you are. I have no idea."

   Hugh chuckled. "So now you know," he said in a low purr, his face so
close that his lips grazed James' lightly.

   "I haven't had sex for almost six years," James said.

   "Five for me," Hugh whispered back. "I'm as good as a born-again
virgin." He swallowed James' laugh in his kiss. "Be gentle with me."



"Not bad. Pretty thick, and that's all that matters if you ask me," James
said, measuring the thick cock in his hands. The cock throbbed in his hand,
the veins pulsing with heated blood rush even as droplets of shiny fluids
leaked in rivulets from the slit. "How are you feeling?"

   James was still clothed while Hugh had allowed the other man to talk him
into divesting himself of his clothes. "How would you feel if I am playing
with your cock in my hands? I'm in pain. Maybe you ought to kiss my cock to
make me feel better."

   And James did just that, letting his lips touch the cock tip
briefly. The soft feel of lips on him was enough to make Hugh close his
eyes and shiver with pleasure from the brief contact. Then James let his
lips touch that cock again, this time longer, he letting the tip of his
tongue lick along the sensitive slit. The rough tip of the man's tongue on
Hugh's smooth skin of the tip caused Hugh's stomach to tighten for relief.

   Still, James hesitated, and Hugh understood. He was still wary of
another man's touch on him. Old habits died hard. "James, it's me," he said
softly, echoing his thoughts -- it was James, so it was okay. "Just me."

   "Yeah. I know." James then let his mouth envelop the wide head as best
as he could. And Hugh closed his eyes again, this time letting the sinful
sensations of having his cock sucked wash over him. "Are you sure you
haven't done this in years?" he had to ask later. "Oh, that is good, don't
answer me, just keep sucking."

   James' tongue, that mouth and its suction… Hugh was lost in an orgy
of feelings as his cock was licked, sucked, and bit lightly in voracious
hunger. He couldn't hold back -- it had been too long, and Hugh didn't know
how much he missed this until now -- and then he was coming in James'
mouth.

   As the last drops were drained out of him, he waited for the feeling of
being soiled and degraded to come. He felt nothing but relief and an
unfamiliar warmth in his being, however. And when he looked into James'
eyes, he saw the same emotions mirrored back at him. James only looked at
him as if he couldn't understand Hugh but he didn't want this moment to
end. Hugh saw James hesitate, then James shook his head fiercely, as if he
was fighting off some inner demons. He pulled off his shirt.

   Unlike Hugh's hirsute body, James' was smooth and almost devoid of hair.
James' body was also sleekly muscled, unlike Hugh's rougher, coarser
muscled form, and for a moment James seemed fragile and vulnerable in
Hugh's arms.  But there was nothing fragile about the way James' mouth
closed over Hugh's, and Hugh let go of his caution. He rolled over James,
covering the man, and let their tongues explore each other's mouths. James'
touches on him were at first tentative, cautious, and even fearful but as
Hugh kissed the man's reservations away the man grew bolder. James' fingers
bit into Hugh's buttocks, urging him on, and several fingers even slipped
past Hugh's tight sphincter.

   The invasion only made Hugh ground his groin tighter between James'
widespread legs. The head of his cock pressed against the tight ring of
muscles of James' sphincter, then Hugh gritted his teeth as he felt James'
tight flesh gave way and his cock started sinking into tight, unbelievably
smooth, and wet heat.  James screamed, he really did, as the long-forgotten
pain/pleasure of being filled to the hilt scoured his senses. "Don't stop,"
he urged Hugh however. "Oh Hugh, I have forgotten."

   "Me too," Hugh gasped back, every muscle in his body tensed as he
tentatively withdrew a few inches of his cock. James protested, and Hugh
sank back in.  Then James' hips lifted, allowing Hugh more access to his
anus. Hugh moved his hips, drawing them both into a rhythm that was at
first awkward, then languid, and finally urgent as the tides of orgasm
started to swell upon them both.

   And James was laughing, tears in his eyes, when he came.

   "Don't walk away from me ever again," Hugh demanded fiercely. "I'll just
keep coming after you."

   James nodded.



"I hope you won't take this the wrong way, but I think you have a great
body," James said later.

   Hugh looked at the man whose head was on his chest and then down the
length of his body. "You think so?" he asked.

   "I always have a thing for hairy men anyway. There's something about
dark hair swirling around nipples. And the feel of my fingers along the
hairy line down your stomach -- " James' fingers demonstrated just what he
meant, "-- and the thick crotch hair."

   "I take it you'll come back to being my housekeeper?" Hugh asked.

   "The blackmail?" James asked.

   "I'll take care of it," Hugh said. "Leave it to me. Now, about the
housekeeper post?"

   "Okay," James said, closing his eyes.

   "And you'll sleep in my room," Hugh added.

   "That's so unprofessional," James murmured.

   "Like what you're doing to my cock now," Hugh answered. "Come on, you'll
be on top this time."

   James swung his legs over Hugh's and looked down at the man. "Hugh,
thanks," he said. "for everything."

   "Yeah," Hugh said impatiently. "I'm thankful, I love you too, I think
you're sexy, et cetera. Can I fuck you now?"

   And for that, James didn't stop when Hugh begged for mercy.



EPILOGUE

"And you have nothing to do with Anthony Boardsworth's suicide?" James
asked skeptically two months later. He placed the plate of pepper ham
sandwiches before Hugh.

   "Well, I did have Dylan and Greg file some really nasty court
papers. And I did threaten to have his investors withdraw from his crucial
ventures. It's not my fault he can't take the stress and shot himself in
the head. Hey, I'm not that happy about his suicide. I wanted him to really
suffer, and he cheated me of it." Hugh munched on his favorite snack
happily. "Oh, and Dylan is disappointed too. He was so sure the impending
lawsuit would make celebrities out of his law firm."

   "I don't think you should go after the rest of the men," James
said. "Anthony sent the blackmail letter, and he's dead."

   "But the other six haven't paid yet." Hugh smiled at James. "Dear sweet
James, still thinking of my reputation. Don't worry, I'll just sabotage
them financially."

   "No stupid things like punching Bradley in the club."

   "No." Bradley was currently in hospital with two broken legs from a car
accident Hugh would swear he had nothing to do with, and he was facing
enough financial crises to drive him mad. Bradley was out of the
picture. "I won't bother Bradley anymore," Hugh said truthfully.

   James scowled at him, not entirely believing him. Hugh smiled as angelic
as he could back. Call him weird but he liked it when James nagged at
him. It told him James cared enough for him.

   "Trust me," Hugh told the man.

   Besides, right now he had higher priorities in life. "Did I tell you
that you still are a very beautiful man? I may have forgotten last night,
but I really think you are," he said with all honesty. "And can I have more
sandwiches?"

   He had his housekeeper back and his life was okay again. His home was a
home once more. Maybe tonight he would tell James that he decided life
wasn't so bad after all, at least when James was in it. He hoped James felt
the same way too -- maybe he would ask him that too tonight. One thing for
sure -- he was finally starting to heal.

   "Just don't get into trouble, okay? Are you okay, Hugh? You're grinning
like a fool."

   "I'm okay. I'm free," Hugh answered.