Date: Sat, 10 Dec 2011 12:02:17 -0800 (PST) From: First Chance Subject: How Martin Blunt Learned to Live Chapter 10: Martin in Hell Appreciate the emails guys. Love hearing your feedback. Keep 'em coming! -JJ How Martin Blunt Learned to Live Chapter 10: Martin in Hell For about 6 months Martin and Jon maintained a successful long distance relationship. They emailed several times daily and spoke often on the phone. Jon had made several business trips to DC and would stay at Martin's house so often that he had his own key and his ADT access codes. He even stored personal items at the house with dedicated drawer and closet space. Martin loved having Jon in his own bed; for once he felt like he had a real spouse. He loved feeling Jon roll over in his sleep, hearing him breathe, feeling his heat and warmth. He loved waking up and seeing Jon lying next to him, his soft white skin on the silk sheets, with an arm or leg poking through. Martin enjoyed getting up first to put on coffee and make him breakfast. Hearing Jon's footsteps above, hearing the water run while he showered... all these tiny details of Jon's presence in Martin's house were treasured signs of Jon's presence in his heart and life. Martin had a husband to care for. He didn't feel alone. He hadn't used the "L" word yet... love. He hadn't used that word ever with another. Martin didn't take love lightly, and when he said it, he wanted it to be true. And in this case, it was true. Martin loved Jon, and he was certain Jon felt the same way. Sure their connection on every level was ideal: emotional, intellectual, sexual. But they brought out the best in each. So often Martin had seen relationships as limiting him. Not with Jon. Their relationship broadened him, expanded his world, opened him up to new ideas and new possibilities. Only love can transform who you are, not by changing you, but by perfecting you. Martin enjoyed living in DC, but if Jon needed to be in Chicago, he thought, he would move to be with him. Sometimes at night while watching TV he would browse Chicago real estate listings on his laptop, imagining them in a contemporary downtown high rise or a Frank Lloyd Wright home. He had a pretty large budget to work with, and how better to spend $4 or $5 million than on a dream house with his dream man? The bank where Martin worked had a Chicago office so he wouldn't even need to change jobs. Should he ask his boss about a transfer? Maybe Jon wanted a change, too... they could move to New York together. Or Los Angeles? Anywhere he could plant roots with Jon, where he could come home to him, wake up with him, feel his presence in the house. Martin's house felt so lonely when Jon left. He wanted to be together always. So when when the bank President called a meeting in Chicago for the following Monday, Martin could hardly contain his excitement. He could surprise Jon the weekend before. Jon had always traveled to him; now Martin could travel to Jon. He emailed to confirm Jon was not doing anything that weekend. "Why?" Jon wrote back. "Just making sure your weekend will be as dull as mine", Martin replied as a white lie. Martin knew that Jon ate breakfast at Millie's Diner in Oak Park after the gym on Saturday mornings. So he took an early morning flight out and had the taxi drive him straight there. By 10:30 he was discreetly hiding at a back table staring at the door. He wore dark jeans, boots, a solid white tee shirt that hugged his body, and a leather jacket. He sat at the table with a black Vanderbilt baseball cap slouching in his chair, trying to hide under his upturned jacket collar. The diner was fairly busy with a Saturday morning breakfast crowd: elderly couples, tables of teenagers, families ordering up classic American breakfasts. Waitresses in white skirts and red aprons served up eggs and hash browns and bacon while the owner circulated with pots of coffee, refilling mugs and chatting up customers. The noisy, hungry crowd was a perfect hiding spot in plain sight. Jon came through the door close to 11am. He had sunglasses perched on his still wet hair, a fleece and black jeans with a gym bag slung over his shoulder. Martin saw him and he gushed. He looked so good, face all rosey and flushed from the workout. His eyes were beaming, his demeanor upbeat and positive. We walked like he ruled the world. Martin looked at him and loved him again- like he did on the plane months ago. He was perfect. He was the one. He was his. "Daddy!", yelled a 3 year old little girl, running towards Jon, who bent over and Jon scooped her up in his arms. Her platinum blond hair was pulled out into two pigtails with big pink bows that matched her pink dress. "Hellooooo princess!" Jon exclaimed, giving her a big kiss. Jon carried the girl to a booth against the windows and kissed a pretty blond woman, put the girl back in her seat and dropped his gym bag on the floor. He slid into the booth where two other platinum blond children were eating pancakes and coloring. Jon sat with his back to Martin, whom he never saw. Martin couldn't breathe. His mind scrambled, searching for reason: 'That wasn't Jon!' Martin looked frantically around the diner. 'Surely Jon went somewhere else, to another table. Not that table. He did come in, right? You're just tired- early flight. You're confused. His car isn't even here.' Martin stood and looked out the window to see if his car was there, not realizing he had no idea what Jon's car looked like. 'But those kids- they were so blond. Like Jon. He couldn't be married. He was single, he told him he was single.' All Martin could see of the man he thought was Jon was one leg sticking out the booth. 'Was that Jon's leg? Call him. Call him.' Martin pulled out his phone and dialed, and stared at the booth, at that leg. Few second delay... and Martin saw a hand dig into the leg pocket and pull out a phone. After a second pause, a thumb hit a button, and a hand put the phone back in that leg pocket. "This is Jon Hunter. Sorry I missed your call. Please leave a message." Martin hung up his phone. There would be no message. Martin sat at his table too weak to move. He felt energy drain from his body. He wanted to faint and vomit all at once. For several minutes Martin sat there dazed until Jon got up and headed towards the rest room. Martin dropped $20 on the table and followed. He had to see him. Inside, Jon was at the urinal. Martin looked inside the stalls and made sure the room was empty. The door had a bolt and Martin locked it. He stared at Jon's back while he pissed. Saw the motion of Jon shaking the last few drops and flush. He turned around still zipping his fly while he walked to the sink, looked up and locked eyes. "Martin. Jesus. Martin". Jon had turned deep red, like someone flipped a switch in his face. Martin just stared at him. Jon spoke quickly, afraid of a scene. "Martin please let's not do this here. Please my family..." he said trying to reach out to Martin. He pushed his hand away. "Your FAMILY? Your family! Jon how could you lie to me like that?". "Martin, please let me..." "Not you Jon. Please tell me it's not true Jon. Please". "Let me explain, Martin. It's not like that! Just..." "NO! No... I.... I can't believe this... why would you do this to me? I've got to get out of here. I've got to go. I can't be here right." When Martin turned to leave the bathroom, Jon put his hand on his shoulder. Immediately Martin spun around and shoved his lover hard. "DON'T!" he screamed as Jon stumbled backwards and fell to the ground. He looked up at Martin who stood at full posture, like the football player he was, fists clenched, shoulders squared, feet firmly planted. A truck couldn't knock Martin over. Jon was afraid he would pounce on him, afraid he could really hurt him. Martin looked like he could explode but all he managed was "Don't.... touch... me." in a hushed, trembling voice. He threw open the door with Jon still laying on the floor. Lucky for Martin the noisy crowd was busy eating because no one seemed to notice an imposing, sobbing man exit the bathroom. He paused at the front door for a final look at Jon's wife and kids, then exited the diner quickly. Which way should he go? Where was he? He started walking in one direction, and didn't care if it was the right one. Martin's sorrow turned to confusion. Then anger. Then self hatred. This is why he ended relationships. This is why he didn't let himself fall for anyone. People always hurt you in the end, he told himself. People always break your heart. Guys and girls. Didn't matter. He would always be alone. After a few hours of walking and sitting in public parks, Martin realized it was getting late and he had no idea where he was. He hailed a passing taxi and asked the drive "What's a great hotel downtown?". "Um... the W on Lake Shore is nice", he replied. "Take me there". As the taxi turned down the streets of Chicago, Martin thought of what had transpired in such a few short hours. He continued to criticize himself for allowing those dreams: the type of place he would buy with Jon, remodeling the bathroom so it had a soaking tub for two (to always remind him of Brussels), to even get married. He had even made himself laugh thinking of past girlfriends who would find out, imagining the conversations and their faces as they wrestled with the fact that hot Martin, most eligible bachelor Martin, was gay. Well, looks like the last laugh is on him. Jon had called 6 times in the past few hours and emailed as many times. Martin deleted every email without reading it and every voicemail without listening. He had no interest in hearing excuses. He felt enough pain and didn't need lies on top of it. And he vowed never to let someone hurt him again. After he checked in at the W, something odd happened. Something unlike Martin at all. It was an almost out of body experience, one of those moments where a subconscious impulse takes over, and a primal urge commands the will and reason. Martin went over to the concierge's desk where sat an effeminate looking man, about 50, wearing a black turtleneck and black pants looking at a computer screen. He was too skinny, and had sunken cheeks and ashen complexion. Martin sat down uninvited and saw his name tag: Devin. "Hi. And what can I do for you, Sir?" said the man with bobbing eye lids and huge smile. Because even in sorrow, Martin looked good. "Devin, I'll get right to the point. I'm sure that guests have come to you before looking for companionship. Now do you know someone who I could invite for some quality time?" he said, sliding two $100 bills discreetly towards the concierge. "Well", he whispered, "I do want our guests to be happy. What's your preference?", he replied pocketing the money. "Now" "Oh, it can be arranged for now... but what I meant, sir, is... male or female? "Male", Martin said bluntly. "Good choice" Devin winked. Martin was not amused at his attempt to be cute. Devin continued in his li whisper "See Brian over there with those bags? He'd be glad to..." "No.", Martin cut him off. "OK", said Devin, a little taken aback by Martin's harsh tone. "See that red headed cutie by the door? That's Kenny." Martin looked over and saw a slender red headed kid wearing a bellman's uniform complete with high button jacket, tuxedo pants and patent leather shoes. He looked no older than 20 and had a cute, freckled face. He appeared shy and timid, like the kind of kid who got pushed around in high school. Something about his meekness made him the right choice. "Fine", Martin confirmed. Devin rang the bell on his desk. "Kenny", he shouted, calling the young man over. Kenny raced across the floor to the concierge desk. "Kenny, help this gentleman get his bags to his room." "Of course", said Kenny, looking around for a bag. Devin continued "And then just go ahead and take your break after that, understood?". Kenny nodded and looked down at Martin nervously. "If you'll follow me sir, I'll take you to your room", he said in a somber voice. "Now can I get you anything else sir? You know in Chicago it snows a lot", Devin said. Martin ignored the reference, said no more to Devin and followed Kenny to the elevator. "What floor sir?" Martin opened his room key envelope. "24. Room 2415" he said gruffly. Kenny tried to make small talk with his client. "I hope you are having a good day, Sir", he said politely. Martin did not reply. "We've been having great weather so you are here at a good time." Martin just looked away. Kenny gulped. Why was this guy so mad? Usually guys are excited about this. Fuck- I hope he's not crazy. Kenny hated this part. Well, that's not true, he hated the whole thing. But the money was insane and it was pretty easy work so long as he gave Devin his cut. Devin had to cover for him while he was with the client. On a good night, like when there was a convention, he could easily make 3 grand. One old guy - must have been 65 or 70- he just wanted Kenny to lie there and let him suck and swallow Kenny's load. Paid him $200, too. Seriously. That was the easiest and best $200 he ever made. But the elevator ride was always uncomfortable and slightly scary, unsure of what the client wanted. Martin was by far the best looking guy who had hired him. Great head of hair, nice build, why does this guy need me? Kenny's mind raced and he made his mental check list to stay safe. No handcuffs or bondage. Safe only. Done in 30 minutes. Martin just watched the elevator flash floor numbers higher and higher until they reached the 24th. They got to Martin's room without him saying one word. "How old are you?" Martin asked, once inside. "19." "You sure?" "Honest, Sir. You can't work in the hotel unless you are at least 18". Martin thought about it a second. Made sense. At least if he got caught it would be with a hooker and not statutory rape. Martin took $500 and laid it on the table. "Take off your clothes", he said in a monotone, lifeless command. Kenny obeyed and stripped down to his briefs. He had a small frame, no muscle definition and no body hair and some silly tattoos on his skinny arms undoubtedly purchased with the feeble attempt to look tough. "I want a blowjob" he said in that same gruff, lifeless voice. Kenny nodded as Martin started to undress, folding his pants along the crease and hanging his shirt in the closet. Kenny had seen a lot of guys up close, but Martin was a rarity. Broad shoulders, flat and defined abs, solid arms, shapely legs. His chest hair was neatly groomed and his whole body commanded respect. Kenny was slightly turned on, which, for a guy who does this for a living, was uncommon. He was also a little nervous because Martin was clearly powerful and visibly angry. This wasn't a combo Kenny cared for in a client. Martin sat down on the bed with his feet planted on the floor, and reclined. Kenny knelt before him and pulled down his boxers. Martin wasn't even hard. Kenny was surprised at how big Martin's cock was, especially soft. Normally his clients are so hard at this point they don't last long. He was afraid he'd be there for a while. Taking Martin's soft cock in his mouth, he began to suck the shaft trying to give Martin an erection. Martin put his arm over his face covering his eyes, blocking out the light and hiding behind his forearm. After a few minutes of work, Martin's cock naturally sprung up from the pure sensation of Kenny's mouth. But it wasn't enjoyable. "You take it up the ass, kid?" he asked coldly. Kenny stopped sucking and wiped the precum from his mouth. He walked over to the table and counted the money. "Yeah", he said. "But you gotta wear a condom" "Fine" said Martin without budging. Kenny picked up his bellman's coat and reaching into the pocket pulled out a condom and a few packets of lube. He rolled the condom onto Martin's mostly stiff cock and smeared it with lube. Then squirting some on his fingers he reached around and lubed up his ass. It was clear Martin wasn't moving, so Kenny squatted over him and gripped Martin's cock, directing it toward his asshole. Gradually he lowered himself on the shaft until it penetrated his sphincter. Martin made no sounds, he didn't moan or give any indication he was having sex. His spirit was like he was doing his taxes or at a funeral, his mind somewhere far away, and his face covered up his arm. Kenny bobbed up and down on Martin's large cock staring down at the beauty of Martin's frame. His own cock started to get hard from the thickness of the rod he had inside his tiny ass. Martin's 8 inches rubbed against his prostate causing great pleasure. He wrapped his hand around his cock and started to jerk and let out a soft moan. Martin lifted his arm and peeked out. "Don't", he ordered harshly. "You don't get to touch yourself. This isn't about you. Understood?" Kenny froze. He nodded in obedience and stopped touching himself. The fire in Martin's eyes frightened him, and when he started bobbing up and down again, he hoped Martin would come quickly. He wanted to get out of there. "Hit me", Martin said. "Sorry?", said Kenny without breaking rhythm. "You heard me. Hit me. HIT ME", he shouted when Kenny didn't obey. Kenny made a fist and punched Martin on his enormous shoulder. It hurt Kenny more than it hurt Martin. Martin shook his head in disgust. "Slap me. In the face" commanded Martin. "In the face?" "Christsake kid, slap me. NOW" Kenny cocked his hand back and worked up speed for a good WACK! across Martin's cheek. Kenny found this easy to do since Martin was being such a dick and he was tired of Martin's shitty attitude. The cracking sound echoed in the room and a red mark started blooming on Martin's cheek. "Again", he said. "Again." "Again!" Kenny had slapped Martin 8 or 9 times, and it was starting to hurt his hand. Martin's cheek was beat red. Kenny could feel Martin's cock swelling inside him. "Spit on me", he said. "On you?" "Spit on my chest." "Again." "Now on my face. Again." Martin grabbed a hold of Kenny's tiny waist in both his hand and frantically jerked him up and down, tossing Kenny like a rag doll. Kenny flapped about, powerless under Martin's strength, fighting to stay on. Finally Martin threw his head back and pulled Kenny down hard against his crotch. Kenny could feel the thick cock throbbing inside and prayed the condom held. Martin stayed in that position, firmly holding Kenny down against his crotch, for about half a minute. Then he pushed Kenny off him. Kenny got up, bowlegged and in a little pain. His ass and inner thighs were beat red. Martin pulled the used condom off his cock and threw it on the floor. Kenny dressed quietly and quickly, and stuffed the money in his pocket, while Martin lay motionless on the bed, his limp cock dripping cum, covered in Kenny's spittle. "Hey Mister you want me to come back some time?" Kenny asked. "Get out", Martin replied. When he heard the door click, Martin looked up and saw that he was alone. And he burst into tears.