Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction. If you are
offended by graphic descriptions of homosexual acts, go
somewhere else.
Copyright c 2001 by Orrin C. Rush. All rights reserved.
Neither this story nor any parts of it may be distributed
electronically or in any other manner without the express,
written consent of the author.
This is a work of fiction, any resemblance of the characters
to anyone living or dead is pure coincidence and not
intended. They are all products of the author's imagination.
THE LIFEGUARD
Chapter 52
We weren't in a hurry. Neither of us wanted this to be
"deliberate".
We sat, his head on my shoulder, talking about nothing in
particular, touching, fondling. The warmth of his body, the
touch of his skin was arousing to me. Hell, just being with
him never failed to get me going.
An hour later, we folded down the couch. Sheets were already
on the mattress, and Eric had come prepared with lube and
towels.
We undressed slowly, watching each other, then sank down on
the bed. Eric scooted over onto his back, grinning at me.
"You're first," he said, throwing his long legs up.
I pulled them down and crawled on top of him, kissing him,
then working my way downward, not missing any of his hot
spots along the way. I rolled off and took his cock into my
mouth, running hy hand under him, stroking.
"That's wonderful," he groaned, "but I want to feel you
inside me."
I got the lube and loosened him with my fingers. His nod
told me that he was ready. I settled between his splayed
legs and worked my way in. Once fully inserted, I leaned
forward for a kiss. He was anxious, I was lying still, but
he was bucking upward, urging me to get busy.
I stroked, he continued bucking, wanting every inch I could
give him. A hard and fast rhythm developed with both of us
moaning. My head was beside his and when I moved to lock my
lips on his, his arms shot around me, holding me almost
painfully tight. I felt his whole body tense and his warm
cum flowing between us. The spasming of his internal muscles
pulled me over the brink with him.
I settled on top of him, feeling his dick still throbbing
between us. When I regained my breath, I whispered to him.
"We're not finished yet!"
I sat up and pulled out slowly. Gathering his cum from our
stomachs and chests, I lubed up his still hard dick. Pulling
his legs together, I straddled him, holding his dick upright
and sat down on it.
I rose and fell on him, my eyes glued to his. His smile told
me he was enjoying this as much as I was. I leaned back, and
our sharp intakes of breath showed that we both were getting
some new sensations. I rocked in this position, the rubbing
against my prostate driving me to delirium. He helped,
rising to meet my downward strokes.
He scooped up the remaining cum and stroked me. I was close
again. I lost control, my dick spurting in the air, my ass
muscles clenching, begging him to join me. My orgasm was
subsiding when his took over. Being conscious, for a change,
I was able to thoroughly enjoy it, feeling his shots going
into me clear to the core.
I collapsed forward, holding him, basking in the afterglow.
As soon as we could, we stumbled to the head and wiped each
other down with warm damp towels.
Always the one to remember names, Eric reminded me that Dr.
Naimann's partner was Lee.
The two of them were just getting out of a cab as we pulled
up. They'd been delayed by a snowstorm in Boston.
"It feels so good to get warm again," Lee said, holding his
quilted jacket under his arm.
Their luggage got loaded, and we got ready to go again. We'd
settled in a grouping of seats for easy conversation since the
couch kind of isolated us.
We'd only met Lee once, at our "Victory Party" in New York,
and had been on strictly an Attorney-Client basis with Dr.
Naimann, so I didn't know where to start.
After takeoff, Lee was the first to speak. "This is the
first time I've ever been on a private jet," he said. "I
could get used to this real fast!"
"With the fee Dr. Naimann's getting, he could afford one too,"
Eric kidded.
"Gotta save up for my old age," Dr. Naimann shot back. "I'm
Len, by the way, no more of this DR. crap, OK?"
That broke the ice. These guys weren't stuffed shirts.
Our Steward emerged from the crew quarters and asked if we'd
like drinks before lunch. At first, Dr. Naimann politely
refused, but Lee jumped on him. "We're on vacation for
God's sake, loosen up!"
We ended up having three drinks apiece and got to know each
other a lot better in the process.
After lunch the conversation got more personal. The usual
questions "How'd you meet?" "How long have you been
together?" were asked. Eric told our story. I liked his
version better than mine anyway.
When it was their turn, Len merely said that they'd been
lovers for six years.
Nosy me. "How'd you guys meet?" I asked innocently.
I noticed them glance at each other. "We've known each other
all our lives," Len said, "we're cousins."
They glanced at me, then at Eric, watching our reactions.
"So?" I said.
"A lot of people have difficulty dealing with that," Lee
said. "Incest is such a taboo subject that we rarely mention
the family connection."
"It doesn't bother me," Eric said. "I'm happy to see any two
people get together that love each other. Hell, it's not
like you're going to have idiot kids!"
"We try," Len said, laughing.
"Doesn't matter to us," I said, "relax! Out of curiosity,
though, how is your family handling it?"
"We're not 'out' to them. They think we live together for
convenience. They live in the Midwest so we don't have to
deal with the issue very often," Lee explained.
After that, the conversation lightened up. We were all
intent on doing as little as possible for the next six days,
and all agreed that no business would be discussed.
We landed in St. Thomas, took the water taxi to St. John, and
were met by the hotel. On the way, Lee told us some
interesting things about the Caneel Bay Resort. It was so
exclusive that it didn't even advertise, and was the favorite
getaway for the rich and famous.
"Leave it to Dan!" I told Eric.
It was almost dark when we were shown to our adjoining
bungalows. We agreed to meet the other two for dinner after
we unpacked and freshened up.
The bellman who had handled our luggage was really friendly.
Without innuendo, he told us that he'd be happy to help us
out with any questions we had about the island or the
resort. Eric wrote down his name and phone extension.
It was warm and humid outside, but our room had the air
conditioning running full force. It was freezing. We turned
it off and opened the sliding glass doors. We came there for
the warmth, not to get refrigerated.
When I got out of the shower, Eric was sprawled on the bed
with a bunch of brochures spread around him. "I'm learning
how we're supposed to act around here," he said with a grin.
"The dining room's open for dinner only, and we're 'requested'
to wear long pants and no loud shirts. Coat and tie optional.
"Breakfast is delivered to the room, and lunch is on the
patio, wherever that is."
During dinner, we learned that none of us were Scuba divers,
but all had a little experience at snorkeling. Before making
any firm plans, Eric wanted to read the brochures in the room
and Dan's stuff.
Len and Lee were banging on our door pretty early. It was
decided that we'd meet at the beach and decide what to do from
there. Both of them were really pale so they'd have to take
the sun in very small doses or wear a ton of sunscreen.
The sand was snow white and the water an unbelievable blue.
I checked it out and it was warm as a bathtub.
Len and Lee wanted to put off snorkeling until they had
gotten a little sun, and Eric, my Nature Boy, was anxious to
hike some of the nature trails. I was game for anything.
The hotel got us a rental car and gave us directions to the
starting point of the trails. Driving was on the left,
British style, and Eric volunteered to drive. There was very
little traffic, thankfully, because he tended to veer to the
right. "This just isn't NATURAL!" he moaned.
Walking was easy and the sub-tropical vegetation was
spectacular. We wandered more than hiked, holding hands like
the lovebirds we were.
After dinner, Eric disappeared for a few minutes, coming back
with a grin, and winked at me when he sat back down.
The resort had a bar where Calypso and Reggae music was
playing, so we wandered in. The music was loud, but not so
loud that we couldn't talk. It was by no means full, but
there were quite a few people seated around. Lee was
evidently somewhat of a 'celebrity watcher' so was able to
point out the big names present, most of whom I'd never heard
of.
One that I did recognize was a singing superstar and his male
companion. Rumors had been flying for years that he was
gay. It looked like they might be true.
During the evening, they checked us out and we checked them
out, the old "are they or aren't they?" routine. Sitting
close together, with Eric's arm around me, it was pretty
obvious that we "were". Len and Lee were a bit more discreet.
I was quite surprised when they stopped by our table on their
way out, introducing themselves, and superstar saying "We've
got a boat chartered tomorrow to explore the Underwater Park
and could use some company if you guys are interested."
I looked around at our group. Heads were nodding, so I
accepted for all of us. We'd meet in the lobby.
The four of us turned in soon after.
"Where'd you go after dinner?" I asked.
"To make arrangements for tonight," Eric smirked.
"What's up?" I asked.
"We're gonna make love on the beach," he said, his eyes
twinkling, "in the moonlight."
"Just don't pack sand up my ass. It's scratchy!" I laughed.
"No, but something else is going up there," he giggled.
The beaches around the hotel were patrolled at night. For a
reasonable tip to the bellman and the guard, we wouldn't be
disturbed. We put on swimsuits and grabbed towels.
The water felt wonderful. So warm, so soothing. We just
floated around in waist deep water, touching, letting the
soft waves wash over us. When we got out, it was so warm we
didn't even dry off.
Eric took one of the towels and dropped it right at the edge
of the water, then took me in his arms. "I thought we'd let
the waves wash over us," he said softly in my ear.
We pulled down our suits and sank to our knees, the waves
running up to lap at our legs. He had a bottle of lube in
his hand. I leaned back, and before I knew it, was flat on
my back, my knees up and he was inside me.
Having him there always felt wonderful, but with the waves
running up to us and occasionally over was mind boggling.
The moon was bright which made the romantic setting complete.
His lips were on mine, his strokes long and rhythmic, and the
combination of everything had us both moaning in minutes.
Neither one of us tried to hold out, the crashing climax came
too soon. We lay side by side, the water sliding over us
while we recovered.
The boat we went out on was pretty good sized, roomy and
fully equipped. Eric and I had brought our own snorkeling
gear and the boat's crew outfitted the others.
Our host was genuinely friendly and asked us to call him Al,
his "companion", Rick seemed to be more than just a pretty
face and very nice body. Al himself wasn't hard to look at
either.
The water was so clear that you could see the coral
formations below without being in the water, but we soon
learned that the view was much better once you were in it.
Al and Rick were eager, leading the pack. Eric and I
followed with Len and Lee trailing behind us.
We followed a "trail" marked out by the Park Service, with
underwater signs identifying the various coral types.
Brightly colored fish in huge schools swam right among us.
We made a large circle, ending up back at the boat. I, for
one, was ready for a little rest.
Al and Rick were fun to be around. Very energetic, witty,
funny, and were definitely not dummies. The boat took us to
other areas of the park where the underwater formations and
fish were completely different from those along the "trail".
We made a whole day of it. Len and Lee were both exhausted
and had gotten more than their share of sun. Al and Rick
appeared to be ready for more. It was agreed that we'd all
meet for a drink before dinner.
"They're fun people," Eric observed. "A little different
from the business types we're used to."
"Lots of life," I agreed.
The music hadn't started in the bar yet, so we all could talk
easily.
"We've finally figured out who you guys are," Al announced.
"Len's the one who beat the shit out of the State of New
Hampshire, Eric's the 'Wall Street Whiz", and Dave's the West
Coast tycoon. You're the only remaining mystery, Lee."
"I'm at M.I.T., working on the Space Program," Lee explained,
news to me, too.
"I sing for my dinner," Al said, "and Rick here runs a
modeling agency."
There. We were now neatly identified, categorized, put in
pigeonholes and labeled. The only thing missing was "gay" in
front of all our labels. This practice, so typically
American, tickled me.
"So, what are you going to do with all the money the good
Doctor here won for you," Rick asked Eric and me.
"We're giving it all away," Eric said. "We're setting up a
Foundation for education," then went on to describe what we
intended to do.
This was news to Dr. Naimann, too, and he paid close
attention. At the end of Eric's description, he surprised us
all by adding "I'm hoping to get Len here involved, hopefully
as a Trustee."
Len just smiled at him. "I'll think about it," he said.
"I'd like to help too," Al said. "We'll talk about it later."
Our little group grew from four to six. We laughingly
designated Eric "Social Director", and he took his new job
seriously.
We got a bigger rental car that'd hold all six of us and
toured the island, looking at all the old sugar plantations
and other history. We didn't just drive by, either, but
stopped and thoroughly explored everything.
We made shopping trips to Mongoose Junction and Wharfside
Village on Cruz Bay, taking advantage of the duty-free
shops. Eric and I collected a few local craft items as
souvenirs but didn't do any serious buying.
Sure, we were six gay men, spending a lot of time together,
and there was a lot of gay humor, but the thing that I
enjoyed was the total lack of sexual tension. Of course we
checked each other out thoroughly, but it was obvious that we
were happy, satisfied couples without any interest in
extracurricular activities.
Al, surprisingly, was really serious about getting involved
with the Lifeguard project. "I don't know what I can do
myself," he'd said one afternoon at the beach, "but I do know
a lot of people in 'Show Biz' that I could introduce you to.
Maybe original music for your presentations, help with
choreography, stuff like that."
"I'd wondered where we'd go for help like that," Eric said.
"We want to look somewhat professional, grab the kids'
interest and get our message through with a little humor."
"I know the best writers in the business too," Al said.
"They could take your concept and run with it."
"You'll be hearing from me, count on it," Eric told him.
Our six days were up far too soon. It had been a busy,
active, week but relaxing.
We flew directly to New York, taking Len and Lee with us.
They'd catch the shuttle to Boston from there. Jacques was
our Steward and would be with us in New York to again take
over our lives.
The East Coast was having an early winter, and the change
from the sunny Caribbean was a shock to our systems.
I had never been to a formal Board Meeting other than those
of our Railroad, so I didn't really know what to expect.
Greg and Jerry welcomed me warmly and introduced me around.
Besides the four Micron boys and me, there were seven outside
Directors. Those were an eclectic group - big stockholders,
an attorney, and C.E.O.'s of other "Fortune 100" companies.
For the record, I was elected, then Jerry as Chairman, got
right down to business.
Finance was first. Earnings were flat, but at a high level,
something to be expected after their recent rollout of a new
generation of Software. No major growth spurts were expected
over the next year or so.
Next on the agenda was the "SPY Project", as they referred to
Spence's stuff.
"We don't have to tell Dave what THAT is," Jerry laughed.
"He and Eric have been in on it from the beginning." It was
obvious that everyone knew who Eric was, but some had
quizzical looks on their faces, probably wondering what his
connection to me was. Jerry noticed but didn't explain.
Greg was in charge of the Operating System project, and
brought the group up to date on progress.
"We're in the process of moving the whole project to the West
Coast," he told us. "We couldn't stay on schedule here, not
enough room."
He went on to detail what they were doing and how they
expected to start beta testing within a year, releasing the
new system in March of 2003, right on schedule.
After his presentation, there was "housekeeping" to take care
of - formal approval of actions taken by management. The
whole meeting took just over two hours.
"Relatively painless, wouldn't you say?" Greg commented on
our way out.
"Piece of cake," I laughed.
After discussing my experience at the Board Meeting, Eric
told me what he'd learned from Sarah about Foundations.
"Setting it up is mostly a legal matter. We can have an
attorney handle that at home," he said. "It'll be structured
very much like a Corporation, Officers, with a Board of
Trustees instead of Directors. The Officers 'run' the
Foundation, take care of the money and sift through all the
requests for funds, but the real decision making is done by
the Trustees.
"Sarah suggests that we find a 'High Profile' type to be
President, someone who's a good administrator as well as
experienced in Public Relations. He doesn't have to be a
fundraiser because we won't be looking for outside money.
She even had some suggestions on where to find somebody like
this.
"There is one restriction on who the Trustees can be, at
least three of them have to be outside the 'Family' who
establishes the Foundation."
"Who do you have in mind?" I asked.
"You, me, Annie and Tina, for sure," he said, "and we'll need
at least three others. Len Naimann would be good, but I
haven't come up with another two. Do you have any
suggestions?"
"How about Sarah?"
"I already talked to her about it," he said. "Since this'll
be headquartered on the West Coast, and quite a little of her
time would be required, she doesn't feel that she could do
the job justice. She'll be happy to be on the Board, but
only with the understanding that she won't be too active."
"I'd go for that," I told him. "Just having her name
associated with it would lend a lot of credibility. As to
the others, let's think about it."
The following evening was Brad's "opening", and no trip to
New York was complete without dinner at Chef Maurice's, so I
called Annie at Sarah's and invited her and Hans to join us
for dinner then go on to the gallery.
We received the usual treatment, no menus and service
directly from the kitchen.
Annie enthusiastically told us about all the exciting things
they had been doing, Hans joining in.
I sat back and watched them with pride. My beautiful
daughter was, without doubt, very much in love with this
handsome, dashing young man. Both of them literally glowed,
so I knew it was mutual.
When Chef Maurice came out to take his bow, he was somewhat
subdued, not his usual boisterous self. After we showered
him with well deserved compliments, he made an announcement.
"This is the last time I'll be cooking for you here," he said.
"My contract wasn't renewed. This is my last week here."
"Do you have any plans?" I asked.
"Not yet," he answered.
"Come see me tomorrow," I said, "at the penthouse."
We were fashionably late to arrive at the Gallery. The few
"openings" I'd been to had been sparsely attended. This was
a lot different. It was crowded. With Sarah as Sponsor,
everybody turned out. That lady carried enormous clout!
"See what you started?" I kidded Eric.
We were handed catalogs, fairly thick, and a quick glance
showed that no expense had been spared in printing them. The
prices, in small print almost blew my socks off, ranging from
$100,000 upward!
In the first showroom, the paintings were beautifully
displayed, some walls dark to bring the "drama" of Brad's
work into focus, others light to show the whimsy. I was also
amazed to see a lot of "sold" signs.
In the second, larger, room, Sarah was holding court, her arm
around Brad's waist. When she saw us, she motioned us over.
"Here's the fellow who 'discovered' Brad," she announced to
the crowd, giving Eric a big hug, and me a wink.
Poor Eric was surprised at all this attention, and tried to
smile through the redness that crept across his face. He
congratulated Brad on his obvious success, and I stepped up
to congratulate him too. Sarah went on to tell her audience
how Eric had spotted one of Brad's paintings among a "sea of
dreadful cats".
I stepped back from the crowd to where Hans and Annie were
standing. "I didn't know Eric was an Art connoisseur," Hans
said.
"They both are," Annie said. "You should see their penthouse
here, and Dad's collection at home. Even the office is full."
"I'd love to," Hans said.
"Come visit us," I told him. "Most of Eric's Jacoby
paintings are at the office, if I remember right, he has 26
of them."
Hans whistled. "He's got a bloody fortune right there!"
"Let me assure you, he sure as hell didn't pay THESE prices,"
I chuckled.
When Eric was able to get loose, he and I walked the whole
gallery, looking at each and every painting. "You know
something?" he asked when we stopped to sip the champagne
that had been handed to us, "I think I've got some of his
best work. They're bolder, more expressive than most of
these. Don't get me wrong, I think these are great, but he
seems to have gotten a little timid."
I wanted to hug him right there and plant a big wet one on
his lips. I was so damned proud of him. Without any
training, he was so damned perceptive. All I could do, under
the circumstances, was to smile at him and agree. I'd take
care of the other part later.
We'd seen enough, so made our way back to Sarah to say good
night. Brad pulled us aside to tell us how grateful he was
for what we'd done for him. He couldn't believe that, as an
unknown, his show had gotten this much attention, and that so
many pieces had already sold. I believe the poor kid was in
a daze.
We weren't ready to turn in yet, so we settled in the den.
Jacques lit a fire in the fireplace and we kicked back and
snuggled, watching the flames and looking out at the lights.
"I was so damned proud of you tonight," I told him.
"Why?"
"The perceptive comment you made about Brad's work."
"I don't know where it came from, it was just the way I
felt," he said.
I gave him the delayed hug and kiss. "You're sensitive and
see things that few people do. Until you pointed it out, I
didn't pick up on the subtle changes at all."
"You're inflating my ego again," he giggled.
"No, I'm just telling you the truth. It's those qualities
that make me love you so much."
"What're you going to do with Chef Maurice?" he asked,
changing the subject.
"Whatever it takes," I told him. "Maurice is a talent that
can't be wasted."
When Jacques led him into the den, Maurice looked whipped.
Here was one of the world's greatest chefs without a job.
Every culinary honor imaginable had been bestowed on him,
many of them several times, and wherever he went, his
restaurant received the much coveted Michelin Four Stars
almost automatically, a rare occurrence in the United States.
He gave us both hugs then sat dejectedly.
"What happened?" I asked.
"It's a long story," he said, with hardly a trace of an
accent. "Big Corporations," he continued, shaking his head
sadly. "They want me to turn out cafeteria food under the
guise of haute cuisine. I won't do it. Standardization so
they can buy in bulk and save a few pennies. I won't do that
either.
"I've been fighting with the accountants since the day I
started with that hotel. My labor cost is too high, my
ingredients cost too much. It never stops, and when they
demanded that I cut costs at the expense of quality, I
allowed my contract to expire."
"I'm sure you have many offers," I suggested.
"A few," he said, "but with the ones I've gotten, it won't be
any different. Same old battles to maintain quality."
"Have you ever considered opening your own restaurant?" I
asked.
"I'd be broke in a month," he laughed. "I'm a cook, numbers
are foreign to me. I can only work for someone else who
knows the business part, and nobody will allow me to do
things my way."
"I would," I said.
"Don't tease me, David," he said, chuckling, "You don't know
anything about the restaurant business!"
"I learn fast!" I told him. "Think about it. We have to go
back to the West Coast tomorrow night, so let me know in the
morning if you're interested and we can talk some more before
we have to leave."
"Is he really serious?" Maurice asked Eric.
"If he isn't, I am," Eric told him very seriously.
He went out shaking his head, but his spirits were definitely
raised.
"That was planned, wasn't it?" Eric stated, and it wasn't a
question.
"I've thought about it for a minute or two since last night,"
I admitted, chuckling. "I also know a helluva lot more about
the restaurant business than either one of you think."
"As usual, you're full of surprises," he grinned.
"The classic formula," I pontificated, "is 25% for
ingredients, 25% for labor, 25% for overhead and 25%
profit. The secret is to balance all those and be able to
have menu prices that are competetive in the market you're
selling to. In most cases, it's price driven, and, you've
gotta be competetive in your market. You work backward from
the amount you feel you can charge, and in a lot of cases,
ingredients are the first to suffer.
"As I see it, with Maurice, it's possible to work from the
other direction. You can determine all your costs, then set
your prices accordingly. Price isn't important because he
has no competition. Lecture over!"
"Pop quiz later?" he asked, laughing. "I do see your point,
though. Overhead in a hotel's gotta be high, and at the same
time, they want to hold the line on prices. If Maurice were
independent, he wouldn't have those constraints."
"You're getting it," I kidded him. "Location isn't that
important either. Maurice's name alone will bring his
following just about anyplace. And, the people who follow
him are the type that don't even look at the prices on the
menu anyway."
"THIS is one thing that I'd really like to be in on, if
you'll let me," he said. "It'll make money, sure, but I'd
just like to be able to say that I'm in the restaurant
business."
"We're partners," I told him sternly. "In everything!"
We had barely finished our conversation when Maurice called
to ask if he could come back over and talk some more. Eric
told him to come right ahead.
"I'm interested," Maurice told us. "Exactly what did you
have in mind?"
I repeated the theory that I'd just explained to Eric, adding
"This would give you complete freedom to run the kitchen
however you want, which is what I believe you're looking for."
"Nobody could turn down an offer like that!" he said, jumping
to his feet. "It will be the best restaurant in America! I
will run the kitchen and supervise the service. Your people
will do everything else, no?"
"Yes, we'll handle everything," I told him, chuckling. "But,
we're going to need your help!"
We spent the rest of the afternoon and evening throwing ideas
around. The only limitation we put on Maurice was use of our
names. HE was the star, and we didn't want our names
mentioned.
"Do you have any idea what we've gotten ourselves into?" Eric
chuckled.
"Delegate!" I reminded him. "We should be in on a lot of the
decisions in the beginning, but about all we have to do is
pick out the location and find a good manager. You, of
course, will do the interviewing."
Before we left the next day, Eric had a realtor busy looking
for locations.
On the ride home, Eric sat at one of the tables so he could
work. I stretched out on the couch and watched him. I knew
it bothered him, but I didn't have many opportunities to gaze
at the love of my life. Such perfection. Someone I'd never,
even in my wildest dreams, ever thought would be "mine".
Unbelievably sexy, and intellectual too, the ultimate "Trophy"
boyfriend.
He'd look up from whatever he was doing and smile, then go
back to work. He got up and came over to perch on the couch
next to me, leaning over for a peck on the lips. "You're
making it awfully hard for me to concentrate," he said.
"That's my intention," I laughed. "What're you working on?"
"I'm trying to prioritize, figure out what I have to do first
to get things rolling."
"What've you decided?"
"First on the agenda will be looking for a President for
the Foundation, then a Manager for the Restaurant. Then I can
delegate!" he said, with that twinkle in his eye. "I've also
got to outline what we want to do, first, with the
Foundation, so I can let prospects know what's going to be
required of them."
"Can I help you?" I asked.
"Not until I've narrowed it down, then you can help me
decide."
"Where are you going to look?"
"Sarah gave me some leads, and I'm going to use the
Headhunters I've used before for the President's job, and I'm
going to talk to some of the Culinary Schools for a Manager'"
he said. "It's important, I think, that both of them be
'take charge' types."
"The President," he continued, thinking out loud, "doesn't
necessarily have to be gay, but since our first project is
pretty gay related, he's definitely going to have to be gay
friendly."
"So's the Manager," I added. "He'll be working with Maurice
who definitely ain't straight."
"I think I've got enough to keep me busy for a week or two,"
he giggled.
"Spence is coming over tonight," Eric told me. "Says he
needs to talk to his 'Big Brother'."
It'd been several months since I'd seen him, but I knew that
he and Eric talked on the phone several times a week. He
looked a lot different, no more baggy clothes, he was very
"Preppy" these days, and he looked like he'd put on weight.
Noticing me looking him over, he struck a pose. "You like?"
he asked, "I got myself a personal trainer and I'm trying to
build up a little."
"It shows," I told him, "you're lookin good!"
"Got a long way to go," he giggled. "I wanna look like my
idol here," he said, putting his arm around Eric.
"How's school?" I asked, changing the subject.
"Goin' great," he said. "It's such a change from that podunk
school where I was going. There're some real challenges
here, and I really love it."
"How's Jimmy?" Eric asked.
"We split," Spence said, his expression changed abruptly.
Now I knew why he wanted to talk to Eric. "Do you want me to
let you guys talk alone?" I asked.
"No, stay," Spence said. "Maybe you can help me see how I
fucked up."
"What was the problem?" Eric asked.
"There were a lot of them, but mostly, it was money," Spence
said. "I have a lot and he doesn't, and he resented it when
I tried to help him. I'm afraid that's going to be a problem
the rest of my life."
"It doesn't have to be," Eric told him, "look at me."
"Yeah sure, you've always had bucks," Spence shot back.
"Not quite," Eric chuckled and winked at me. "Let me tell
you a little story. When I met Dave, I was making about four
hundred bucks a week as a lifeguard. The only thing I owned
was a Jeep, and that wasn't even paid for. At that time, I
knew that Dave had a few bucks, not that he was one of the
world's richest men, and when I found that out, I freaked.
"I didn't want him to think that I was after his money, that
I really loved HIM, so I refused to accept anything from
him. I called it 'being independent'. I was afraid that if
I accepted anything from him, he'd try to control me.
"It didn't take me long to realize that it was going to take
more than fairly good looks to hang onto him, and I needed to
finish my education, as a start, to be able to be his
partner. You wouldn't believe the battles we had over that."
"Damn, you were stubborn!" I commented.
"It took a snotty remark by my brother to make me see that
Dave merely wanted to help me, that there weren't any strings
attached," he continued. "The way Dave handled it was what
made all the difference."
"What'd he do?" Spence asked.
"Most importantly, he trusted me," Eric said. "He never
tried to control or change me, and he gave me opportunities
to accomplish things on my own. It took me a long time to
see this, and to accept the fact that he really did respect
me and value my opinions. I made a few suggestions that
worked out, and he paid me for the savings that resulted,
something it took a long time for me to believe that I'd
actually earned.
"I was pretty immature and had to do a lot of 'growing up'
since we've been together, and I think I'm a lot better man
for it."
"It's hard to believe that you ever didn't have your shit
together," Spence said in awe.
"I've changed a lot, believe me," Eric said, "and it's all
happened because Dave has been patient and allowed me to grow
at my own pace."
"I really appreciate your telling me this," Spence said. "I
can see a lot of mistakes I made, and it looks like I'm going
to have to do some 'growing up' myself."
"Do you want Jimmy back?" Eric asked.
"Not really," Spence admitted. "I think I was more in love
with the idea of being in love than actually in love with
him. There were other problems too. For example, his dick
is just too damned big!"
When all three of us stopped laughing, I warned him "I hope
you never told Jimmy that! The male ego is the most fragile
thing on this planet!"
"I didn't," Spence chuckled.
"One more thing, then the lecture's over," Eric said. "It's
not a good idea to talk about money. Sure, Dave and I do
now, but we're in business together. Remember, when you do,
people who have more than you do, don't care how much you have
and people who have less, even lovers, resent it when you
flaunt what you have."
"I've learned a lot tonight," Spence said. "I still have a
lot more to learn, and now I know where to come."
I got a call from one of my cousins, who very tersely and
rudely told me that Aunt Marie had died, and hung up before I
could say a word.
Of all my family, on either Mom's or Dad's side, there were
only two people who I liked and respected, my Mother's older
brother John and his wife Marie. Out of dozens and dozens of
relatives, they were the only ones who had accepted me after
my sexual orientation had become known.
I'd been careful not to force either of them into supporting
me with the rest of the family, so, had pretty much lost
touch with them over the last twenty or so years.
I immediately called Uncle John, who now had to be in his
90's. He was devastated. They'd been married for 71 years.
I'm not very good at knowing what to say under these
circumstances, so we talked about Aunt Marie. When the
conversation ran out of steam, he asked me "Are you coming to
the funeral?"
"Of course, I'll be there," I told him.
"Bring your boyfriend, David, I'd like to meet him."
"I will, Uncle John."
I told Eric about what'd happened, and that I was going up to
Sacramento to the funeral. "I hate to ask this," I told him,
"but I'd like you to go with me."
"Of course I'll go," he answered.
"My Uncle would like to meet you," I told him. "The rest of
the family, who'll no doubt be there, won't be any fun at
all. Are you ready for some heavy-duty rejection?"
"I can handle it if you can."
"I doubt that anybody will have the balls to say anything, but
they'll sure let us know that we're not welcome," I said.
"I'm just sorry that you'll have to put up with the sneers
and dirty looks."
"Not a problem," he said. "I'm proud of who I am, and even
prouder to be at your side."
"We'll get through it," I assured him, giving him a big hug.
We flew up the day before the funeral. In the first place, I
hate funerals, and the added bonus of having to see a bunch
of self-righteous relatives didn't make it any more pleasant.
We got a rental and drove to Uncle John's house. The old
Victorian, looking as good as the day it'd been built over a
century ago, had cars parked everywhere. That meant
that a lot of the family were already there. Oh God, this
was going to be an ordeal, and I hated putting Eric through
it too.
We rang the doorbell. It was answered by one of my spinster
cousins, about my age, but looking 30 years older. "What are
YOU doing here?" she sneered, crossing her arms across her
bulging bosom.
We walked right past her, ignoring her entirely. I knew my
way around and headed for the parlor. When we stepped
through the double doors, the room became instantly silent.
"David!" my Uncle cried, jumping out of his chair and
bounding over to us.
"Hi, Unk," I said, using the name I'd always used, as he took
my hand for a very vigorous shake.
"This must be Eric," he said, extending his hand.
The room was still totally silent as he slipped between us,
an arm around each of us, and propelled us in the back out
into the entry but not before I got a look at all the
unfriendly faces in the parlor.
We were guided down a hallway to his office. He seated
himself behind a big wooden desk and, indicating the leather
chairs in front of it, said simply "sit."
"I know how some of the members of this family feel about
you," he continued, "and I don't think it's necessary for you
to put up with them. It's been 20 years and I want to talk!"
"From what I read, you've been pretty busy boys," he said,
his eyes twinkling. "Sure glad to see the old Railroad's
back in the family. Your Great-Grandfather was one of the
builders, or did you know that?"
"No, I didn't," I admitted.
"Yessir, he sure was. Lost all his stock in a whorehouse
poker game, though."
"We're putting a little money into it," I told him, "Eric's
even working on building a 'bullet train' down on the
southern end."
"Are there any of those in this country yet?" he asked Eric.
"One recently opened between Washington D.C. and New York,"
Eric told him. "Ours'll be the second one."
"I've heard about the ones in Japan and Europe. Love to ride
on one of those things. Haven't been on a train in about 60
years, last time was on my way home on furlough during World
War II. How's your family?" he asked me in an abrupt switch.
"My two girls live with us, but I don't think for much
longer," I told him. "Tina, the youngest, is getting married
next spring, and Annie, the oldest seems to be getting pretty
serious about a German guy."
We chatted a while longer. Uncle John complaining about how
rough farming was getting to be, and how he was thinking
about selling out since he couldn't make any money. Yeah
sure, I thought, he's been crying poor ever since I've know
him - all the way to the bank!
Before we ran out of anything to say, I mentioned that we'd
better get going, had to check into our hotel and all.
"One of yours?" he asked with a wink.
"Yes, the Regency," I told him.
All three of us rose. He escorted us out. In the entry, I
heard one of my ancient Aunts say "Well I never! Walk in
here like they own the place!"
"Ignore 'em," Uncle John said, "I do. You've given them
something to talk about for the next couple of years," he
laughed.
"I've been watching you in the papers," he continued. "Sounds
like you're doing pretty well. Also looks like you've found
yourself a mighty fine...what's the right word?"
"Partner," I supplied.
"Mighty fine," he repeated, patting Eric on the shoulder.
Then, turning serious, "You'll be sitting with us in the
mourners section tomorrow. Eric, you're as much a part of
this family as any of the rest of us."
Eric smiled his acceptance, shaking his hand and nodding.
Once in our car, I asked Eric what he thought.
"I've never seen such hostility," he said, "but I love your
Uncle," he chuckled.
"He's a nice old guy," I agreed. "Just think, I'll probably
be just like him in another 40 years! That is, if you don't
wear me out long before that," I said, patting his crotch.
"Nothing would make me happier," he said. "My God, he acts
like he could run the marathon, and he's got a mind like a
steel trap!"
The funeral was at the Methodist Church. I wasn't too eager
to sit with the mourners, but had enough respect for Uncle
John to follow his wishes. He had plenty of other things on
his mind right about now.
We arrived early and walked around the side of the church to
the mourner's entrance. We weren't the only ones who were
early, a small crowd was standing around talking and smoking.
"Want to go on in?" I asked Eric.
He glanced at his watch. "Nah, let's stay out here for a few
minutes."
We stood off by ourselves, watching my relatives look us
over, trying to be discreet in their inspection but not
succeeding. After a few minutes, my cousin Elton separated
from the crowd and walked over.
"Hello David," he said rather sheepishly, holding out his
hand.
I shook it and introduced Eric.
"Why don't you give us a chance?" he asked, looking me
straight in the eye. "We're not ALL assholes."
"I don't go where I'm not wanted," I told him.
"There's a lot of us who don't feel that way," he said
apologetically. "You're a member of this family and we'd
like to see you once in a while. About the only time we all
get together is at weddings and funerals," he giggled.
While he was talking, another cousin and his wife walked up,
both with friendly smiles. We went through the greeting and
introduction process again. Before I knew it, a large number
of the crowd had come over. Being the cynic that I am, I
wondered if it was sincere interest or curiosity.
Uncle John arrived and went straight inside, we all followed.
The ceremony was upbeat, celebrating Aunt Marie's life, not
dismal and sad, but uplifting and even humorous at times.
We joined the cortege to the cemetary. "Some of them aren't
so bad," Eric commented.
"I wonder if it's true or just curiosity," I said, voicing my
earlier thoughts.
"It just might be a breakthrough," he said.
To be continued.
To be continued.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I appreciate hearing your comments on the
story, my writing, and anything you would like to offer -
good or not so good. Send me a message at
orrinrush@yahoo.com All messages answered.