Date: Thu, 26 Dec 2002 01:13:42 +0800
From: paul sung <psun@hotmail.com>
Subject: New York

DISCLAIMER

==========

This is a work of fiction; any resemblance to persons living or dead is
entirely coincidental. The author asserts all legal and moral rights
(copyright (c) 2002 -- psun@hotmail.com) to this work and you may not
copy it or transmit it in any way except in its entirety and with this
disclaimer. This story features descriptions of sex between males:

- if such material is prohibited in your jurisdiction, please DO NOT READ ON,
- if you're under the legal age to read such material, please DO NOT READ ON,
- if you don't like, or are offended by such material, please DO NOT READ ON.

And any comments -- brickbats or bouquets, send them over to

psun@hotmail.com And if you find that you like what you're reading, visit

my page at http://www.geocities.com/savante_2002


Humiliating. That was what it was. To be laughed at by the man of your
dreams -- especially after presenting him with your proposition. As usual,
I should have known better than to have trusted Francis Joseph Ricci with
this.

"I just love this! Wait a minute, let me get this right." Casually
folding his beefy arms across the expanse of his broad chest, Frank stood
still for a moment and flashed a singularly sinister grin at me. As if
trying to understand what I had said, he slowly gestured to himself and
then to me. "You need me. You, Michael Wu, you need me."

"Shut up!"

So it was one of the most bubbleheaded plans that I had ever come up
with. Give me a break. It was not my best plan as yet but it was the best
that I could come up within the space of six hours. Which was roughly
about the time I had taken yelling, panicking and generally freaking out
after I received the fateful message from my parents telling me about
their imminent arrival. As usual my spontaneous parents -- who had
obviously never heard of an invention called a telephone -- didn't bother
in the least to give me a week's preparation in advance but had sent an
sms just before boarding their flight at the airport. Had it ever
occurred to them that I could have had other plans?

I doubted it. It certainly never occurred to them that their son, the
dutiful Michael Wu, could have any other priorities in life apart from
his work. Sure, they knew that their younger son was a scandalous
homosexual who practised deviant, unspeakable acts -- though I certainly
hadn't been doing any of those for an unspecified amount of time -- but
that certainly didn't mean that I couldn't provide them with a grandson
to please the ancestors. For some odd reason, my parents simply couldn't
fathom the revolutionary idea that being openly gay and getting married
to a woman didn't exactly mesh well. The fact that my elder brother had
already done his duty by providing a son -- therefore relieving me of that
particular role -- was also lost to them. Ever since their retirement, it
seemed as if the two insane workaholics had pooled their relentless
ambition into a single goal -- trying to get me settled down -- with or
without my consent.

Despite my protests and fervent reminders that I was gay, they persisted
in inviting this and that lovely girl into my life. Somehow Mrs X's
daughter would be travelling by and stopping over in town, desperately in
need of some obscure Chinese delicacy that only I could find. Could I
possibly...? Before they could wave their list of single available
Chinese women in my face again, I blurted out the closest excuse I could
find. Asking Frank to be my pretend boyfriend was not my primary
intention. The intention was just to get them off my back -- and let me
get back to my own life. At that moment, it certainly had never occurred
to me that my parents would want to come over to inspect their
prospective son-in-law.

"Don't make it more than it is." The man hadn't stopped smirking and I
glared at him. "It is just for a day. At the most for three days."

"This certainly messes up your plans, doesn't it?" he grinned evilly.
"Sweetheart. Baby. Hot stud."

"Fuck you."

"From what I've heard, we've done that before."

God, Frank Ricci as a boyfriend. Not that any red blooded gay male -- or
het female for that matter -- wouldn't have hot fantasies of having Frank
Ricci for a partner. A lover. A very hot one-night-stand. A quick, hasty
ten-minute fuck in a stalled elevator. One look at the man was evidence
that God might possibly lean our deviant way.

How else did a man look so sinfully good? Shoulder-length jet black hair
framed a face that would drive a sculptor scrambling for his tools. High
cheekbones, thickly lashed eyes the colour of a clear blue sky, a finely
carved nose, thick, sensual lips that were now curved in a teasing
half-smile as he looked at me. Add that to the incredible hard muscled,
zero-fat body that had graced the covers of International Male not too
long ago and you had quite a package. Six feet and more of unadulterated
testosterone-splashed male. Hard torso. Heaving pecs. Tight abs.
Bubble-butt. Big dick. The works. Yeah, the man was a definite winner in
the gene pool stakes.

Even right now with that smug smile on his face -- that I was frankly more
than tempted to plant my fist in, I still felt the irresistible urge to
throw him down on the nearest flat surface and have my way with that
hard, tight body. Life certainly was unfair at times. Why did he have to
be that beautiful? Though beautiful wasn't the word for him. It smacked
of feminity and that was one thing Frank wasn't. He was all Man with a
capital M. Ever since the first time we met, I'd been battling the insane
need to drag him into a dark corner and find out if the rumours about
his... burgeoning assets were true.

After all, what did I possibly have in common with the reputed richest,
most sought-after gay bachelor in New York? He certainly wouldn't have
had anything to do with a struggling lawyer just starting out his own
two-bit firm -- like me. My whole life was carefully, meticulously planned
- with the firm ruthlessness of a lil general, my friend Amy once said -
and I liked it that way. For me, planning was key and I hated surprises.

But nothing could have prepared me for the man that fate dropped in my
lap. Our paths wouldn't even have crossed if it hadn't been for that
faulty elevator in my office building that fateful evening almost six
months ago. From the moment he first offered me a lewd proposition in
that elevator, we had clicked. Funny how that happens, the moment when
you knew that someone was a kindred spirit. In that short time, he'd
grown to become one of my best friends, if not the closest. Plainly
platonic due to my insistence.

Of course that certainly didn't stop Mr Ricci from throwing out his
tempting lures. From the moment we met, he had poured on his considerable
charm trying to get me in the sack and I continued refusing him. It had
become almost a game with us and my stubborn refusal had become almost a
instinctive, knee-jerk reaction. Though God only knows, I had to bite my
tongue from moaning out a surrender each time. All my friends wondered at
my turning him down since it seemed as if half of New York was lining up
at his door waiting. Even saintly Amy had admitted a need to fuck him
just to get over the need -- who cares if he was gay?

How could I possibly explain? It definitely wasn't from any lack of
feeling. If anything, it was from way too much feeling. God knows the man
was wonderful and it would be damned easy to fall for him -- a disastrous
sin that I feared that I already had committed. After all it wasn't only
his looks, his smile, his shiny, rippling muscles that drew me. In time,
I grew to realize that there was much more to that shiny facade that
Frank showed to the world. The world saw a sexy, charming playboy, a
ne'er-do-well who jaunted from one high society party to another,
carelessly spending his inheritance. But I realized that his image only
hid the brilliant mind and the hard-working ethic behind the flashy
smiles, that savvy business acumen that had managed to increase the
personal wealth he had inherited more than three-fold at last count. No
one saw the sweet man who volunteered at the orphanage each week, who
played hide-and-seek with the children. Nobody knew of the immense amount
of money that he gave away to charity. No one saw the man who visited a
crochety aunt in Central Park West each week with a basket of Godivas and
torrid bodicerippers. All they saw was a fucking sex machine with lots of
dole to throw around which was a pity since underneath it all, he was
something wonderful.

And that terrified me even more. Without a doubt, I knew that if I
started on that first step towards a relationship with him, I'd end up
with a broken heart. The man was a heartbreaker and even before I'd met
him, I'd heard of his reputation. Who hadn't? Everyone in the building,
heck, half of Manhattan had heard of the charming, sexy owner's
reputation. Love 'em and leave 'em. Although I'd never really spoken to
any of his ex-lovers since they were notoriously tight-lipped about
Frank, everyone I knew knew someone who knew someone who knew one of his
ex-lovers. And from all the rumours, it seemed that the streets of New
York were literally strewn with the wrecks of his former lovers. I had no
intention of becoming another notch on his extremely battered bedpost.

My curious gaze crept up to his rooms upstairs as I wondered about the
state of his boudoir. It wouldn't have surprised me at all if the man had
to add another bedpost just to accomodate newcomers. For convenience, his
bedroom probably had a revolving door.

After the space of five minutes, the man still hadn't stopped laughing
and it started to get annoying. Giving him a quelling frown, I pointed
out, "Well, since you find it so damned funny, I'll ask Dec then."

"What?" His laughter came to an abrupt stop and for a moment the man
looked almost insulted, his blue eyes flashing. "Ask Dec the weenie to
play me?"

Knowing that a blow to his ego was something that he couldn't withstand,
I shrugged. "Since you don't want it, I don't have much of a choice."

"I never said I wouldn't do it," he hedged.

"So you will do it?" I asked.

"I never said that either," he answered non-committally.

Turning his back on me, he walked by the floor-length windows and looked
out in contemplation. It afforded me a spectacular view of New York -- and
his aforementioned bubble-butt encased in tight jeans and the fact that I
was more interested in the curves of his ass than the gleaming spires of
New York irritated me. "Tell me quick, Frank. I don't have all day to
play around with this. I've got to get a pretend boyfriend fast. ASAP. My
parents are dropping by tonight!"

Rocking back on his heels, he looked across his shoulder and frowned.
"Tell me again why you're doing this."

Leaving the drink he'd shoved at me earlier on the kitchen counter, I
stalked over to where he was standing. The scent of his cologne wafted to
me and I was immediately intrigued. Spice. Heat. Male. What was it with
this man? At times, he could irritate me like hell but he could still
arouse me at the same time. The sexy pest, I could call him. "Listen
close, Ricci, cause this is the last time I'm gonna explain." I said
patiently. "You know Amy, my best friend -"

"Good God." He leaned back and eyed me with horror. "You mean, I am not
your best friend?"

"Frank."

The man laughed. "Okay."

"You know how my parents are always after me to get attached. Even after
I'd told them I'm gay," I reminded him. It was the story of my life.
Months ago after agonizing about telling them, I'd finally come out to my
parents and my family. Surprisingly, they took it quite well especially
since I'd half expected tearful recriminations and threats of leaping
from the nearest tall building. To my utmost surprise, my mother had just
nodded knowingly and my father had given me a short warning on safe sex.
To be on the safe side, I'd escaped before he'd started giving out a pack
of Trojans. "Well, they are starting think that it might be a phase. You
know about the infamous matchmaking scheme. Well, they've gone overboard,
they are giving Amy hints that we should get attached. Amy and me."

"You know, your parents might be on to something." Eyes narrowing, he
looked closely at me. "I am starting to think that too. You haven't dated
anyone -- as in someone with a Y chromosome -- in months." he commented
with a grin. "Are you sure you're gay? Maybe it really was a phase."

"Knock it off, asshole," I said dryly and gave him a gentle, playful
shove. Under the white cotton shirt he'd pulled on earlier, warm, hard
muscles came alive under my fingers and I reluctantly pulled away. "Well,
anyway, after months of nagging, I finally gave in and told them I had a
live-in boyfriend."

"Aha, you lied," he pointed out with a gleeful smile. "Lil boy scout
Michael Wu finally told a lie. Didn't know I'd live to see the fucking
day."

"Can it, Ricci." Restraining my urge to hit him again, I shoved my hands
in my pockets. Not that it would do any good if I did sock him one since
I only reached up to his shoulder. Were all assholes tall? "Damn it. Yes,
I lied."

"And you picked me," he gestured to himself with his thumb.

The wide smile on his face was extremely suspicious but I continued
hurriedly. "Yes, I picked you. It was the first name that popped into my
head. After all, you were my closest friend in town, you're gay and you
were not seeing anyone at that time. After all, you'd dated plenty of
guys, slept with plenty and ..You were.." I had to face the truth. He was
the man I'd chosen first and what a Godawful mistake that would be. Tall,
dark, oversexed Italians with dicks the size of Long Island and the
libido of an alley cat certainly didn't fit into my plans of a thriving
firm, charming suburbia and happily ever-after. Trying to imagine Frank
in domestic repose boggled my mind. Sure, his apartment looked like
something out of a homemaker's dream but I suspected that the
IKEA-inspired dream was the combined effort of his super-efficient
housekeeper, Rosa and his interior designer.

Sensing my growing discomfort, he stopped me. "Don't spoil it, Wu."

Taking a quick rest, I breathed a sigh of relief. God knows, I couldn't
tell him the real reason why I picked him. Did big dick and a body made
for sex count as a valid reason? "I never expected them to drop by so I
never really thought that lie would come out. Until this morning."

"When they told you they were planning a visit. And they spoilt all your
pretty plans," he nodded knowingly. "There goes your busy schedule for
the week, Mike. Did you write them down in your PDA?"

"Yes. And stop smirking, Frank," I warned him. "So I need a fake
boyfriend pronto or they'll sic another good, virtuous Chinese girl on me
again." The note of panic in my voice was all too real and I knew Frank
would understand. Especially since he'd had to rescue me from at least
two of those unfortunate 'dates'. Remembering the last incident, I had to
smile as I thought of the outlandish story he'd spun to get me out of
that predicament.

"So that's your newest plan." Taking a quick stroll around the living
room expanse, he returned to his chair and sat down with his head thrown
back. Closing his eyes, he pretended to give it some consideration for a
moment before nodding his acquiescence. "Fine, I'll do it."

"You will?" His easy acquiescence should have made me happy but it made
me suspicious instead. After all, I knew this man far too well to believe
that he'd do anything out of the sweetness of his heart. That bright,
helpful smile didn't fool me any. Francis Ricci didn't do anything for
free -- not for me anyway. What was going on in that gorgeous head of his?

"Yeah, for one day, I'll be your hot Italian lover, your toy-boy, your
trophy husband, your -"

"Joseph!" I felt however that I should warn him. "My parents aren't gonna
be pushovers, you know. You will be interrogated to hell."

"Don't worry about that, Mike." He smiled, the slow, sexy smile that
always caused my temperature to rise, a fact that he probably knew.
"After all, sweetheart, I managed to charm you into my arms, didn't I?"

"You wish." Still amazed at his quick compliance, I had to make sure. "So
you'll do it?"

"You know I do have my conditions," he said quietly.

Aha, that clinched it. I knew Frank wouldn't agree to my proposition that
easily. But I certainly hadn't prepared anything as a barter so I blurted
out the first thing that came to my mind. "I'll wash your cars."

Frank's left brow went up. "I have a mechanic who does that."

"I know. I will.." What the hell did you give the man who had everything?
A sudden inspiration came to me. The man never could resist it. "I'll
cook for you. Your favourite lasagna. Promise!"

"I... " He closed his eyes in homage -- my lasagna was my best bargaining
chip with him -- and he remained silent for a moment. Then shaking his
dark head vehemently, he replied, "You almost clinched the deal but no."

"Then what do you want?" Some dark, perverted part of me had already
weaved some explicit X-rated ideas that involved the both of us and a
flat surface but I prayed that he wouldn't ask that of me. Not only would
that blow up in both our faces, I doubt our friendship could survive that
encounter. One quick slip between the sheets and it would be bon voyage
for me.

"I haven't thought about it yet actually," he admitted ruefully, biting
his full lower lip. Resting on the arm of the settee, he leaned back and
his jacket flung wide open to reveal his tight white T-shirt. My gaze was
immediately drawn to the dark, chocolate coloured male nipples perched on
his hard swell of his pecs.

Giving myself a hard shake, I reluctantly pulled my gaze away from his
delicious torso and looked back up at his face. There was a knowing smile
on his face that I tried hard to disregard. "Won't you do it just for old
time's sake?"

"Old times?" His eyebrow went up again. I hated that trick of his. "When
did we have .. any times.."

Looking at that all too earnest face, I started having doubts. "Actually,
I think I..."

As I fumbled over my words, he suddenly stood and moved towards me.
Leaning forward so that his face was barely inches from mine, Frank
growled. "Come on, do you want me to do this or not?"

His warm breath burnt my cheeks and he was close enough that I could
practically breathe him in. The scent of Ricci and sex started
tantalizing me. If he'd just come closer, I could just bite on that pouty
lower lip. "Y-yeah, but I know you, Frank Ricci. And there's something
brewing in your head!"

Obviously taking pity on me, he pulled back a little and grinned
innocently at me, blinking his deliciously thick lashes with seeming
innocence. "Moi?"

"Yes."

"My lips are sealed." Seeing my doubtful expression, he smiled
reassuringly. "But you can always interrogate me. The cuffs and whips are
in the store room."

That was a vision that I didn't want in my head. Whips, chains and a
naked, writhing Italian hunk was something my pounding heart probably
couldn't take. Even now, I could imagine his torso, the sleek, finely
muscled proportions, the smooth, golden tan, the lightly furred male
nipples capping his firm pecs. The quick slash of the whip across his
rippling back. My breath caught and I could barely make a sound. Was that
a whimper?

Guessing the direction of my thoughts, his voice dropped to a low, sexy
purr. It was his fuck-me voice, the voice that haunted me during the
night. "Yeah, just think about it. Make me scream, Wu."

An alarm bell started ringing in my head. Hot man alert! At some other
time with any other man, I'd probably have shed all inhibitions -- and my
clothes too -- and had a wonderful fucking time. But not with this man. He
meant too much. And it'd probably last until just after he comes. So
before I gave in to what would be a huge mistake, I quickly made my exit
with the flimsiest of excuses after pushing Mr God-damned-Irresistible
away. Picking up my jacket and downing my drink, I was out his door in a
New York minute before he could even recover from his surprise to stop
me.

But not before I caught a glance at Frank Ricci standing at his doorway,
his eyes burning with desire and a burgeoning erection snaking down his
blue jeans. Oh God. As usual, part of me was pleading to stay and have at
least a quick bite. Just one good taste to ease the hunger that had been
burning in me ever since Ricci first dropped into my life. Even with only
thoughts of him in my head, my cock was already hot, hard and trying to
break free from my pants. But I was a practical man and that practical
side forced me to ignore my darker, X-rated desires. "D-dinner. Be early
or face my wrath. Come at 6."

"Will you promise to punish me if I'm late?" he whispered, his voice
still husky with desire.

"In your sick lil dreams, Ricci."

His teeth flashed in the dark of the hallway. "See you tonight, Wu."

His rich laughter followed me out into the streets and I knew that I'd be
spending at least half an hour alone in the bathroom with my own sick lil
fantasies.