Date: Tue, 12 Sep 2000 13:21:24 -0700 (PDT)
From: Orrin Rush <orrinrush@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Lifeguard - gay - beginnings
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.
--------------------------------------------------------------
"Want to tell me about it? I know how upset you are."
I turned to him. "Eric, this is one time I don't want to
share. I don't believe you'd like what I'm thinking."
--------------------------------------------------------------
THE LIFEGUARD
Chapter 25
What hurts the most? Loss of money? Prestige? Love?
Health? Freedom? These were the black thoughts running
through my mind.
An animal, when cornered, turns and fights with everything
he's got. I felt cornered and helpless. I couldn't fight
back. Not yet.
I'd never been vengeful in my life, feeling that "what goes
around, comes around", not requiring any help on my part. It
usually worked out that way, too.
For some reason, this situation was different. It was an
affront, a blow to my stomach delivered through Annie. She
was just a pawn, unfortunately available, and probably having
the time of her life in jail. That didn't matter. Were
these people really targeting me, or was it impersonal and
just what I represented?
Was I being paranoid? Probably, and I would also, in all
likelihood get over this and forget the whole thing.
Eric was watching me nervously. I smiled at him and put my
arm around him. "Off in my own little world," I explained.
"You had me scared."
"Nothing to worry about," I said. "Just a frustrated old
fart who can't stand it when he doesn't get his own way."
We landed and stood in a group, seemingly not knowing what to
do next.
"Let's find a bar and talk this over," I suggested.
It wasn't LaGuardia or Kennedy, but an airport for small,
private planes. The "terminal" had a lunch counter and off
in a corner a little dirty bar. It was deserted and the
bartender was watching the ballgame on TV.
We found a table and ordered.
"Well, we're out of there and don't have to worry about
getting arrested," I said calmly. "This may sound cold, but
realistically, there isn't a hell of a lot we can do for
Annie at the moment. Jim and Dale will keep up the pressure,
and maybe public opinion'll help out. If we try a legal
assault, it'll take more than ten days to even get heard.
I'm afraid she's going to have to serve it out."
I chuckled. "I know my daughter, by now she's probably
running the jail." This got a laugh from everyone, and full
agreement from those who knew her. "She'll have stories to
tell for years."
"I think we should concentrate on the business that got us
into this mess in the first place," I continued. "We should
be hearing soon if all the trucks are rolling. We've got
very competent people to handle everything from here, and I
don't think we're going to be too far behind schedule when
the dust settles."
"What are you going to do about all this?" Greg asked.
"We have plenty of time to take care of that," I said. "What
happens in the next few days will have a big bearing on how
we react later. A lot of people are going to get hurt bad
before this is over, including a lot of people who were
stupid enough to elect the Judge and County Council that they
did."
Plans were made on who would do what. It was also agreed
that nobody would say anything to the press.
Eric and I took a taxi to "our" flat. Ron and Jason went to
LaGuardia to catch the commuter to New Hampshire to retrieve
our plane. The Micron boys headed for their office.
The flat would be our "command post" until Annie was let go.
It was too late for the Network news, but Eric got CNN on the
only TV in the place, in our bedroom. "Headline News"
mentioned the incident and referred to more complete coverage
later on regular CNN. I definitely wanted to see that, and
tape it too. Hopefully, somebody had taped the network news.
Reports started coming in. Bill and Tina had landed in New
York and were on their way in a taxi.
Mike called to report that the trucks were gone and had all
cleared the State line. He was moving up the schedule on
moving the inventory and expected it to all be on it's way,
along with the warehouse racking, in a couple of days. He
planned to dismantle and move the racking last in case
somebody decided it might be "equipment".
Eric was talking with somebody, joking and laughing. I was
confused by this.
"Wanna talk to your daughter?" he asked, handing me his phone.
It was Annie. "Hi Dad," she said, full of good spirits.
"I've got Jim's phone."
"Are you still in the pokey?" I asked.
"It's more like house arrest," she giggled. "Jack and I are
the only ones in here, and we pretty much have run of the
place. He wants to talk to you when I get done. Did you see
the news?"
"No, we missed it, what happened?"
"We watched NBC, and they gave the story a lot of play. They
used words like 'outrage', 'hostage taking' and all sorts of
other stuff. They're definitely on our side, and make me out
to be a martyr. Do you think I'll qualify for Sainthood?"
That's my girl! In control, and her sense of humor intact.
Next, I talked with Jack. He expected to be released in the
morning after paying a stiff fine. "We really got lucky when
we found Jim," he said. "There's not a whole lot he can do,
but he's sure keeping the pressure on them."
I said goodnight to Annie and hung up.
Bill and Tina arrived just as the CNN report was starting,
and we all settled in the bedroom.
The commentator detailed the events of the day, interspersed
with clips from cameras in the courtroom. Then, a panel of
legal experts took over. One commented that the Constitution
was being violated in so many ways that it would take hours
to detail. Another said that if this type of local action
were allowed to stand, American Business should be shivering
in their boots. Enactment of the law in the first place was
a travesty, they agreed, and the locals should repeal it
immediately to cut their losses.
So far, they had concentrated on the issues. It wasn't about
Lundborg Rush or Micron, or even "Big Business". Our names
had been mentioned only once.
Then, after showing a clip of the Judge in action, they
discussed his "making Law" from the bench, and the resulting
arrest of Annie. They likened the dragging of her, in
handcuffs, before the cameras to something a Third World
Terrorist Organization would do. As a group, they appealed
to the Governor to put a stop to this "hostage situation"
immediately.
That was it. At least the Press was on our side. We'd have
to see what happened next.
At least Annie was OK, but I don't think any of us slept very
well.
The morning news was interesting. Legal and Constitutional
experts expounded, and the "man in the street" was
interviewed for the human interest angle on all the morning
shows.
The experts all seemed to agree that what had happened was
unconscionable, a few attributed it to opportunism and greed.
The New Hampshire people interviewed on the street and local
gathering places were a different story. To a man, they fully
supported their elected representatives, and felt that the
"bloodsucking Corporation Slime" were getting what they
deserved, in spite of the overwhelming disapproval of the
country as a whole. A Field Poll, taken earlier, showed
National support for us of more than 71%.
They also mentioned that the Judge could plan on being
re-elected for the rest of his life.
The Governor was silent.
- - - - -
Jack was released and came directly to New York. "I broke
the law, got caught and paid," he said. "Damned glad I did,
too. It was worth every minute of it."
He'd be seeing a fat Christmas bonus, and no doubt, some
appreciation from Micron as well.
No lawsuits had been filed yet, and we all agreed to wait
until the "hostage" situation was over before proceeding.
Jack also wanted to retain some of the most respected
Constitutional experts as well as the best Trial Lawyers to
handle the case.
"If we win a big punitive damages award," he said, "they'll
just declare bankruptcy and thumb their noses at us. We've
gotta find a way to keep that from happening. That's going
to take a lot of research, time, and some pretty sharp
minds. I want every goddam person in that county to pay."
"All I want out of this," I told him, "is our money back, and
the actual amount of our losses. Anything more will go to
charity of some sort. Education may not be a bad idea."
For the time being, it was out of our hands. We'd just have
to wait.
Annie had talked Kevin out of coming to New Hampshire, but he
came to New York to wait with us.
Life - and business goes on. Bill and Jack returned to the
West Coast, and the rest of us tried to keep occupied. Eric
was like a shadow, never leaving my side.
Sarah was everpresent, buoying spirits, and finally talked
Tina into going shopping with her. I gave Tina a credit card
and gave her orders to "max it out". Sarah considered that a
challenge.
Since none of us had planned to be away from home more than a
few days, we were all hurting for clothes, so Eric Kevin and
I did a little shopping ourselves.
It was the first time that we had been around Kevin without
Annie present. He just "fit in", comfortable, funny, just
one of the guys.
"I'd better not get TOO friendly with you guys," he said,
laughing, "or Annie will start wondering about me."
"You'd damn well better be straight if you're going to date my
daughter," I told him.
This opened the subject of sexual preference. Kevin had a
lot of questions, and Eric answered them for him. I listened
proudly as he explained how it wasn't a choice, and how our
relationship involved a whole lot more than sex.
The waiting was getting us all down. Eric started going in
to his office at Micron, I spent hours on the phone with the
office and kept involved in everything that was happening.
Tina and Kevin played tourist.
The media had quickly lost interest in the whole affair, and
there was no movement in New Hampshire. The Judge was mum
even though Jim and Dale were pressuring him on a daily
basis, the Governor was still silent, and nobody else seemed
to care. It was maddening.
Annie was released without fanfare when the ten days were
up. Kevin was there to meet her and whisked her off to the
plane. Eric, Tina and I met them at the airport in New York
and we headed straight home.
Even though she tried to put a brave face on it, I could tell
that her experience had been rough on her. She seemed
cheerful and relieved, but being cooped up like that had done
something to her. Hopefully we'd soon have the "old"
smartass Annie back.
- - - - -
It was a bit hard on my ego, but everything at home had run
smoothly in my absence. What had been a vast empty factory
building was now a beehive of activity with packages of
Software rolling off of a few of the production lines. The
rest of the lines were being fine-tuned and would start
production in a few days. We were actually on schedule in
spite of having had so many roadblocks thrown at us.
The new CPU cases were rolling out of Milton factories and
Joel was ahead of schedule producing monitors.
Everything was going almost too smoothly. Then someone
realized that we had forgotten one item - the Mouse.
The keyboard maker in Taiwan was enlisted to make them, and
was able to use the same resins to make matching "mouses",
both corded and cordless.
Annie went back to work with a vengeance. Many hotel chains
were realizing the advantage of leasing rather than owning
their properties, so were quietly offering them to
investors. She was very choosy, and only picked up those
that could be 100% financed. The 109 hotels that we now
owned represented a debt load of more than $11 billion, but
was self supporting and building reserves against any
possible economic downturn.
Whenever we could, Annie and I kept our Wednesday lunch
"date". This was a Wednesday and we were both free, but it
would have to be short, so we decided on the "food court" of
a shopping mall down the street.
We sat outside in the sunshine. Usually, we talked business,
but today I insisted that we talk about her. We talked about
her "pokey" time, and she admitted that it had traumatized
her more than she recognized at first, but that she was
getting over it. She also confided that she felt Kevin was
getting close to "popping the question", and wanted to know
how I felt about that.
"You know I don't give advice," I told her. "If it's what
YOU want, then I approve, but you'll have to convince me."
"By the way," she said, "Kevin thinks you and Eric are the two
greatest guys around."
"You don't have to convince me yet," I told her laughing.
"Wait'll he asks you. I already like him."
We were getting ready to leave when Annie commented "There's
a guy sitting behind you that's been staring at you for the
last ten minutes."
"Does he look friendly?" I joked.
"Can't tell, but he's sure one gorgeous man."
"What's he look like?"
"About 30, I'd guess, long brown hair, big brown eyes, and
muscles to die for."
"Doesn't ring a bell," I said.
"Well, here he comes."
He approached from the rear, then stepped to one side of me
and pulled out a chair at our table.
"Hiya, Dave. Goin' straight?" he asked, indicating Annie.
"That's my daughter Annie, Tom," I said coldly.
"Oh yeah, the jailbird," he sneered. "Hear you got a new
boyfiend, Dave. Good thing they got Viagara these days."
Annie, abashed, started to rise. I followed her lead.
"Have a nice life, Tom," I said as we walked away. No way
was I going to give that prick the satisfaction of getting
into a pissing contest with him.
When we were far enough away that he couldn't hear us, Annie
asked "Who the hell was that?"
"Believe it or not, that's my first lover," I told her, my
voice shaking.
She didn't say another word until we were back at the office,
and followed me into mine, closing the door behind her.
She walked up and gave me a hug. "I don't know what's going
on, but you look like you've seen a ghost."
"Worse," I said. "Tommy."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"I didn't think the sonofabitch could still affect me like
this," I told her.
"He must have really hurt you."
"Yes, he did, but it was worse than that, he used me, and
even worse than THAT, I allowed it. I thought I was beyond
hating him, but I guess I'm not."
"You've mentioned him, but never talked about him."
"I know," I said. "Actually, I've never told anybody the
whole story."
"Do you think it'd help if you did?"
"It's hard to admit that you've been so damn stupid," I said
sheepishly. "I thought I'd dealt with the whole mess, but he
can still push my buttons. The age thing is still a very
tender subject."
"Have you told Eric about him?"
"NO! Only that he existed, past tense. I don't want Eric's
pity or sympathy."
"You'd never get that from him," she assured me.
"I just don't think he needs to know all the sordid details."
"I'm different from you," she declared. "I DO give advice.
I think you ought to talk this over with someone. For your
own good. I care, goddamit!"
"I know," I told her sincerely. "I'll think about it."
"I'll hound you," she promised, giving me another hug.
I dropped into a chair, feeling like I'd just fought 10
rounds and lost them all. Maybe talking to a third person
would help, a professional who'd keep his mouth shut, for
sure.
I'd never gone over the whole story, even in my own mind.
- - - - -
I had just bought the house. It was the first one I'd ever
picked out myself, and even though I was single and alone, it
had everything I wanted - and more. 10,000 square feet of
living space, all on one level, and just about every amenity
known to man. It was situated on a bluff overlooking the
ocean, and the way the house was laid out, almost every room
had a view of the coast.
I worked closely with the Interior Designer on just about
everything, and even though we'd been at it for months, it
was a slow process. The basics, painting, wallpapering and
carpets were complete, but furniture was still arriving.
The kitchen was about the only room in the house that was
finished.
I'd hired Mary and Sam. Mary spent most of her time
outfitting the kitchen, and Sam took care of the landscaping
which was undergoing change as well. Overall, it was chaos,
and even though I was sleeping there, it was more like
camping out.
Tired after a long day at the office, I stopped at the liquor
store on my way home. Pulling in just ahead of me was a
station wagon full of young guys. As I parked, they were
getting out. Looked like a bunch of college kids. The
driver, however, caught my eye. Dark hair, sultry good looks
and an exceptional body. Dark glasses hid his eyes, but
there was still a lot to look at and drool over.
I followed the three of them in, my eyes rarely off of the
dark haired beauty. The other two headed in one direction,
"my" guy in another. I followed him at a discreet distance,
marveling at his grace and the exciting movement of his tight
butt as he walked. I was mesmerized.
He stopped at a cooler, looking at the imported beers. I
walked on past, exchanging a smile with this awesome
specimen. That did it. On an impulse, I took out one of my
cards, walked back and handed it to him. He looked at it,
smiled, and put it in his pocket. Not a word was spoken.
I panicked, and made my way out of the store as fast as I
could without running, scared to death that he might follow.
I had to stop at another liquor store to get what I needed.
At home, I thought about what I'd done. Something like that
was totally out of character. Never in my life had I ever
been that impetuous. The card I'd given him was a calling
card and had only my name and home phone number on it, no
address, no company name.
I didn't really regret my action, but didn't have any idea
what I'd do if he ever did actually call. What would I
say? Oh well, I'll never hear from him, I thought. He was
just so damned gorgeous!
A few days passed. Nothing happened, so I forgot about the
incident. He did remain a great jack off fantasy, however.
Then one night the phone rang.
"Hi, this is Tom. Remember me?"
"Tom who?" I asked, racking my brain.
"The one at the liquor store," he explained. "Sorry to be so
slow in calling you, but I've been on a camping trip."
"Oh," was about all I could muster.
"I take it you didn't expect me to call," he said.
"I'm surprised, " I admitted.
"How'd you know?"
"Know what?"
"That I like 'older' men."
"Hell, I didn't even know if you liked men at all," I said.
"I took a chance."
"Well, where do we go from here?"
"I don't know. I'm kind of new at this," I told him
truthfully.
"I figured that," he giggled. "You ran like a scared rabbit
before I could say anything. Let's get together and get
acquainted. Do you cook?"
"A little," I told him. "I'm just moving in, so how about I
take you out somewhere?"
"OK, tomorrow night?"
We agreed on that. His car was in the shop so I agreed to
pick him up.
He had taken me completely by surprise. I really didn't know
what to do or what to expect. I decided that that didn't
matter, I'd just play it by ear.
He was leaning against the low wall in front of the apartment
complex when I drove up. His hips were thrust slightly
forward emphasizing the bulge there. Naturally that's where
my eyes focused.
He jumped up and climbed into the car.
"Hi," he said, extending his hand for a shake. "I'm Tom and
I guess you're Dave?"
"That's me," I grinned, shaking his hand and gazing into the
most incredible brown eyes I'd ever seen.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
I wanted to say "home to bed", but instead told him about my
favorite Italian restaurant. He was agreeable.
Other than that, I was tongue-tied. He kept the conversation
flowing, however.
"Just moving in, huh?" he asked. "Wife throw you out?"
"That happened almost two years ago. I'm just getting around
to getting my own place."
"Do you like being on your own?"
"I enjoy the freedom. And the privacy," I said.
"I'll bet! A different guy every night!"
"Not quite," I chuckled.
Over dinner, the innuendo stopped, and Tom told me his life
story, edited, I was to learn later.
His family lived just outside Washington D.C. in Chevy Chase,
Maryland. He was attending Princeton, and had a year to go
for his master's degree in International Finance.
He'd come West for the Summer Olympics which had ended a few
weeks earlier and was visiting his Grandmother here in town.
His father worked for the State Department, and he'd spent
most of his life outside the U.S. That explained his
worldliness.
His self confidence was apparent and he was a fascinating,
interesting conversationalist. I listened mostly, studying
him as he spoke. He was a feast for the eyes. A wide brow,
a perfect nose, a strong chin, but his eyes were the best
part. Deep, expressive pools that glinted impishly. I was
hooked.
He didn't ask many questions about me, and I didn't volunteer
a lot.
On the way back to his Grandmother's, his hand was on my
thigh, giving me a squeeze occasionally to emphasize
something he said. By that time, I wasn't paying much
attention, my hard dick was doing all the thinking.
"I'd ask you in, but Granny's kind of old fashioned," he
said. "She knows I'm gay, but I think dragging a man home
with me would be going too far."
"Can we do this again?" he continued as I parked.
"I'd love to."
"Tomorrow night it's my turn. I'll take you to my favorite
place. Pick me up at the same time?"
I hastily agreed.
He reached over, gave me a lingering kiss, patted my bulging
crotch, and got out.
"We'll get to that," he assured me.
Our second "date" was more relaxed, for me at least. He
directed the conversation in my direction, and I found myself
giving him more information about me than I had intended. He
made it so easy for me.
I told him that I "worked for" Metalco, not that I owned it.
I told him about my kids and the bitch I'd been married to.
When I admitted that I'd only been "out" about a year, and,
so far hadn't had anything more than "encounters", he
announced that he was going to become my first "serious
boyfriend".
That shook me. The best I'd been hoping for was a night in
the sack with him, not marriage for chrissakes! I wasn't sure
I was ready for that!
"Did I scare you?" he asked, chuckling. "When I see
something I want, I go after it."
"You get right to the point, don't you."
"No point in fucking around," he said. "No guts no glory.
Are you going to invite me to spend the weekend with you?"
"The place is still a disaster area," I warned.
"You have a bed, don't you?"
"Yes."
"That's all we need," he giggled.
I picked him up on my way home Friday night. We stopped for
a bite to eat on the way. When we drove through the gates,
his eyes widened. "I didn't expect this!" he said.
Once inside, he insisted on the "grand tour".
"You live here alone?" he asked incredulously.
"Just me," I told him.
Out by the pool, he told me that he would love to use it, but
hadn't brought a suit.
"No problem," I leered. "We have the place all to ourselves
for the whole weekend."
He dropped his gym bag in the bedroom and we went back out to
my "den" where there were some chairs. I got him a beer and
myself a drink. He was standing in front of the window and I
walked up to stand beside him. He was a couple of inches
shorter than me, and turned his face up to be kissed.
It was electric. My knees turned to jelly.
"Wow, you're good," he gasped when we broke for air. "Just
like I expected."
This kid knew how to push my buttons. Yes, he was a kid by
comparison. 22 to my 38.
We kissed again, harder, longer, more urgently. "I can't
stand up much longer," I told him.
"Follow me," he said, taking my hand and leading me to the
bedroom. We dropped on the bed and continued where we'd left
off. I was in pain. My dick was bent downward, and as hard
as it was, hurt like hell. I could feel that he was as hard
as I was, but he was pointed upward.
"Need a little relief?" he asked. Before I could answer, he
had his hand under my waistband and was gently moving me
around. His warm hands felt so good I almost shot from the
feel of him.
After repositioning me, he kicked off his shoes and stood
up. I watched, with my mouth hanging open, no doubt, as he
did a strip. He had a gorgeous body, he knew it, and
obviously liked to show it off.
His pullover shirt crept up, showing his rock hard abs, a
thin line of dark hair running down the center. Further up
it went, exposing rounded, defined pecs accented by
half-dollar sized nipples. Up and off the shirt came.
He turned around, displaying the taper from his broad
shoulders to his narrow waist. His jeans slid down, inch by
inch bringing an incredible, hard butt into view, still
covered by tight jockeys. These too slid down, two dimpled,
hairless cheeks now uncovered. I was salivating.
He turned slowly, grinning, I think, but I was more
interested in the prize that rose from his trimmed pubic
patch. I wasn't disappointed. Long, slightly curved,
circumcised, and gleaming.
"You like?" he asked, striking a pose.
All I could do was gurgle. I was speechless.
"I'll take that as a yes," he laughed.
He pulled me to my feet, and started stripping me, not just
removing my clothes but touching, rubbing and licking as he
went. When my cock was freed, he gently stroked it, then
dropped to his knees and took just the head in his mouth.
I couldn't stand up any longer and drug him to the bed with
me as I collapsed.
He went after my body like he was starving. Licking,
sucking, running his hands over my skin with a feathery
touch. I had to stop him if this was going to last much
longer.
It was my turn. I took my time and enjoyed him. Progress was
slow but I didn't stop. Taking him into my mouth, I brought
him to a shattering climax. As soon as he was capable, he
finished me off.
By Sunday afternoon, we had made love so many times, I felt
like I'd been run over by a truck. I smiled a lot
nevertheless.
From sucking we'd quickly graduated to fucking. I loved how
he felt inside of me, but I only got to enjoy that once. The
rest of the time, I was satisfying his seemingly endless
appetite for me inside him. It being the mid 80's, using
condoms was mandatory.
I was in love, I thought. Actually, it was more lust than I
recognized at the time. I couldn't get enough of him, and he
was more than willing.
He told me he loved me, and from his actions, I had no reason
to doubt him.
I was in heaven. My first serious boyfriend, and a young,
gorgeous one at that. My wildest fantasies had come to life.
When he told me that he'd only be in town another week
because school was starting, I was shattered. I couldn't
stand the thought of being away from him. I begged him to
spend every night with me until he left.
Before they had gone to work for me, I had told Mary and Sam
that I was gay. Mary admitted that she had already figured
that out, but was glad I'd been upfront with them. They had
no problems with it.
After Tom's weekend with me, it was pretty obvious that I'd
had "company". Mary noticed immediately, and only asked if
it had been somebody "important".
"I hope so," I admitted. That's all that was said.
Tom spent the next five nights with me, and when he left on
Saturday, I was devastated. He promised to call as often as
he could, and to come see me whenever he could.
All sorts of other promises were made by both of us, with
more "I love you's" than I could count.
For the next week, I alternated between elation and despair.
I thought about him virtually every minute I was awake. We
talked every night for hours, buoying my spirits, but reality
set in when I crawled in bed alone. I lasted a whole week
before I was on a plane east.
It seemed like we had been apart for months rather than days,
and we spent the whole weekend in my hotel room making love
and promises to each other.
Feeling much better and more secure in the knowledge that he
loved me as much as I loved him, I returned West.
My euphoria didn't go unnoticed. I got a lot of kidding at
the office, which I handled rather well, I thought. Most
thought I'd found a girlfriend, and I let them believe
whatever they wanted.
Tom's birthday was coming up, and I went to the mall to find
something for him. Passing a bookstore, I saw that they were
selling programs from the Summer Olympics. Since Sports was
his interest, I bought a copy.
When I got home, I skimmed through the program. Sports
wasn't my particular cup of tea, but I decided to become a
little more knowledgeable. I wasn't looking for anything in
particular, but somehow, looking at one of the field events,
I saw Tommy's name. It just loomed up from the page.
That night when we talked, after getting the "I love you's"
and "I miss you's" out of the way, I told him "I stopped in a
bookstore today. They had Olympic programs and I bought one."
"Oh shit!" was his response.
"When you told me you went to the Olympics, you kinda left
out the part about being IN them."
"I only finished fourth, no medal, no big deal," he answered.
"Just being a participant is a helluva big deal!"
"I'm sorry, I just didn't think it was important. By the
way, you didn't tell me that you OWNED Metalco, either! Were
you afraid I was a gold digger?"
"I didn't know," I admitted.
"Are you still worried?"
"Tommy," I said, "I don't care what you are. I love you with
all my heart."
"Just for the record, I'm not a gold digger!" he said. "And
I love you more than you think, too."
We developed a pattern. One month I'd fly East to spend the
weekend with him, the next month he'd fly West and spend the
weekend with me. How he managed to maintain his B average is
a mystery.
Around Christmas, he got an invitation to pose for a famous
photographer who'd seen him at the Olympics. "No porn," I
begged him.
"No way, baby," he said. "You're the only one who gets to
see my dick."
This "shoot" produced some posters, which sold out as fast as
they could print them. Mostly to gay men, I would assume.
Soon after, he heard from a Modeling agency, wanting to
represent him and promising him the moon.
That led to several TV commercials, and then the big break, a
major Magazine cover. His face was known around the world
before he graduated.
He was in demand, getting more assignments than he could
handle. The jobs were in New York, so, naturally, that's
where he moved.
His really big break happened soon after. A major clothing
designer offered him a three year exclusive contract for over
a million dollars a year.
He jumped at it.
Tommy, as I now affectionately called him, loved the
attention. He was as much in demand socially as he was on
the runway. His pictures were splashed all over the
tabloids, taken at this or that party on the arm of some
simpering debutante.
I didn't mind that. It was the MEN that worried me! A month
or two into our relationship we'd agreed that if either one
of us "strayed" the other one didn't want to know about it.
I hardly noticed other guys, but I didn't know about Tommy,
and I was afraid to find out.
I continued to come to New York once a month, and Tommy came
West the next. The wonderful difference was that now,
instead of two days together, we could stretch it out,
sometimes to a full week.
He did a lot of "Location" shoots all over the world. Even
though I was invited, I had too much pride to be a camp
follower.
This continued, and when his contract came up for renewal, he
was offered another year, which he grabbed. We continued the
bi-coastal relationship.
In the beginning, I hadn't even looked at other men, but in
our fourth year of commuting, I started noticing that others
did exist, and some really attractive ones at that. Having
sex once a month, even if it was at least several days of
non-stop lovemaking, just wasn't enough.
I started taking advantage of some of the opportunities that
arose, then, once I got over the guilt trip, started seeking
them out. In a short time, I developed a "stable" of
regulars. They were all young men, some extremely
goodlooking, some very average, who enjoyed a nice dinner out
or a weekend by the pool, and good sex with no strings
attached. There was no emotional involvement. It was fun
for the sake of fun.
One thing that surprised me was their specialization. A
couple of them liked to suck dick. That's all. They weren't
interested in reciprocation. Others were strictly oral, but
enjoyed a two-way street. Then there were the anal boys.
Tops or bottoms exclusively. Since Tommy required that I be
a "top" all the time, I wasn't interested in bottoms, only
tops.
This was a great setup for release, but didn't provide much
in the way of satisfaction. It felt good, sure, but after
I'd reached orgasm, I felt like yelling out "next".
I rationalized that these encounters were harmless, providing
me with physical relief when I needed it. When I was horny,
I'd get on the phone and have someone there in a matter of
minutes. I also knew that my "boys" were by no means
devoting all their attention to me, so nothing but absolutely
safe sex was practiced.
Tommy's contract was up for renewal again, but no offer was
forthcoming. He literally begged, but they wanted a "new
face".
For more than six months, his agency did their best to find
something for him, but he suffered from overexposure in his
last job. Nobody major would touch him, and the piddling
offers that did come in were refused with a sneer.
I knew what a tremendous blow this was to his ego, which had,
quite frankly, ballooned. He crashed.
Before he could get too hooked on the booze and drugs that
helped him cope, I bundled him up and moved him to the West
Coast with me. I lavished affection on him, reassured him,
and rebuilt his confidence.
Financially, he didn't have to worry. He'd turned all his
earnings over to his father who had invested wisely, and he
was now set for life. That, however, was no replacement for
the excitement, glamour and adoration that came with being
one of the world's top models.
For almost a year, he isolated himself from the outside
world. No drugs, only social drinking, and still the fitness
regimen that kept him in perfect shape, but he rarely
ventured from home.
Our sex life was nonexistant. He just wasn't interested.
Maybe once a month, he'd get amorous, but even then he was
indifferent.
A few months of this, and I was climbing the walls, but
nevertheless suffered in silence - without. It didn't matter
because I loved him so much.
I still don't know what brought about the change, but almost
overnight he changed from asexual to a sexual athlete.
Olympic class. At first I was overjoyed. I did everything I
could to please him. It didn't take long to notice that his
satisfaction was all that counted. Mine wasn't considered,
and I began to really resent that. All he wanted was to be
fucked, an itch that needed scratching at least daily if not
several times every day. When he reached orgasm, it was
over, regardless of my condition.
It wasn't long before my resentment built to the point where I
couldn't achieve an erection, much less satisfy his huge
appetite.
This caused even more problems. When I couldn't "get it up"
he teased me about getting too old. The teasing turned into
derision, and it became impossible for me to even contemplate
"servicing" him.
Our general attitude toward one another turned to apathy, and
he moved into another bedroom.
He also started going out. Occasionally, at first, then he'd
be gone overnight. It was pretty obvious to me that since I
couldn't or wouldn't satisfy him, he was looking elsewhere.
He also became totally arrogant toward me, acting like he was
doing me a favor whenever he deigned to spend some time with
me. The flip of his head, which I had always considered cute
and endearing, became a symbol of his arrogance, and made me
want to punch him.
The love that we had once shared no longer existed, and, from
my standpoint was rapidly becoming dislike bordering on
hate. He insulted me at every opportunity with remarks about
my being "too old" or "over the hill", things a 46 year old
man certainly didn't want to hear.
It all came to a climax when I came home early one evening,
and found him in my bed having his ass pounded by what looked
like a college football player.
As calmly as I could, I ordered them both to leave. The hulk
pulled on pants and ran. Tommy, however, refused to even
move from his "legs up" position until I threatened to call
my Company Security to come throw him out.
For the first time since I'd moved in, the gates were closed
and locked that night.
The next day, he arrived with a U-Haul and removed all his
possessions. I had not seen him since.
I went into mourning. My self confidence was non-existant,
and I had no sense of self-worth. I mourned the loss of what
I believed was the great love of my life. What had I done
wrong? I beat myself unmercifully and dissolved in self-pity.
I realized that I had totally ignored all my friends for
almost seven years and didn't have the nerve to call on any
of them, but after a few months of this self flagellation,
they came to my rescue.
Dan was the first to call, inviting me to join him for "happy
hour". I jumped at the opportunity.
Tommy's name was never mentioned. We talked about everything
but him. After a few drinks and tons of food, I felt so much
better I wanted to hug and kiss him. This became a Friday
afternoon ritual, with some of our mutual friends joining us.
Eventually, I even got up enough nerve to make eye contact
with some of the attractive men that were all around us.
Nothing came of this because I still didn't feel sufficiently
confident to make a move.
It's amazing how a lack of self confidence shows through,
almost in billboard proportions. I didn't have it, and it
sure showed.
I resigned myself to this life of limbo. I'd probably never
find another man to love. I was too old, and even if I did
find one, I probably wouldn't be able to get it up. It was
over. Maybe a "massage" occasionally, or a "model" when I
was out of town.
Then Eric came into my life. Just thinking about him brought
tears of gratitude to my eyes. Eric gave where Tommy had
taken. I gave, too, but this time it wasn't one sided.
It hadn't taken the run in with Tommy to make me realize how
fortunate I was. I already knew that, but this had brought
so much into sharper focus.
The question now was, should I discuss this with Eric?
To be continued.
Author's Note: The State of New Hampshire was chosen at
random as the setting for this part of the story and is not
meant, in any way, to denigrate the citizens of that fine
State. It could have been anywhere!
I appreciate hearing your comments on the story, my writing,
and anything you would like to offer - good or not so good.
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