Date: Wed, 23 Nov 2011 12:13:13 -0800 (PST) From: First Chance Subject: How Martin Blunt Learned to Live Chapter 4: The Body Guy Appreciate the emails and welcome all comments! How Martin Blunt Learned to Live Chapter Four: The Body Guy Tim Boyd had been up since 6am. His interview wasn't until 11, but he was incredibly nervous. Just yesterday Martin had called him to set up a time, and Tim jumped at the chance to meet sooner rather than later. That morning he had gotten up, jogged a few miles, jerked off, showered, shaved, and dressed all before his 4 housemates even left for work. Tim wanted this job. He needed this job. The campaign had assured him a position, and it had only been a month since the swearing in, but he was running out of money and March's rent would be due soon. Plus this was a great position. It was a chance to use his business degree and hopefully explore the world a little bit. He was actually surprised that he was being considered for such a high level position. He was only one year out of school, and most of the former campaign staffers his age were not offered such great jobs. Tim was a slender 23 year old with reddish brown hair that he wore a little too long and messy. He was about 5'10'' and had a lean, 160lb frame of long muscle lines and limbs. He was a good runner all through high school, and his good physical habits showed in his small waist and frame. He would look great in a Banana Republic skinny suit and Windsor knotted tie. But he was broke. His clothes were bad. He shoes were worse. Not that he didn't care, like so many guys didn't. No, he cared. He just couldn't afford anything better than thrift stores and salvation army. But he was neat, clean, and smart, but most of all, he was eager. Drinking coffee with The Today Show on mute, Tim reread the position description. The official title was "Senior Adviser", but the conventional name was "The Body Guy." The body guy is a tricky position. It's not a secretary or a receptionist, though he sometimes has those functions. It's not a scheduler or a speech writer, though he does that too. And it's not a press director or development director. But it is. The body guy is... the everything position. Political leaders who are always on the go and juggling crucial issues and large staffs (like Martin) can't go to 7 and 8 different people for their needs. They go to one - the body guy - for everything. It's the job of the body guy to get it done. A really good body guy has it before the boss even knows he needs it. Someone once explained to him that the President's body guy will give him two pills and a glass of water and the President won't even ask what they are; he'll just assume he's supposed to take them. A body guy can see the boss and know that he will want, not coke, but ginger ale; not sweet, but salty; not this memo, but that one. The body guy carries the bag, the keys, the notes, the phone, the ipod, the magazine, the book, extra pens, extra photos, extra business cards. He remembers names and dates and tells the boss what to do, where to stand, when to nap, who he's meeting and why. Think the boss is powerful? Meet the body guy. He's usually smart, unattached, tireless, and dedicated. It's a tough and thankless job that opens thousands of doors. Tim was interviewing for a coveted one at the State Department. He had read the bio of the Assistant Secretary so many times he could quote it. He googled the name "Martin Blunt" and found several hits: his profile from his past job, pictures in society pages at events and fundraisers. He even found a few hit pieces the other campaign put out trying to accuse him of dirty wall street money. Still, all in all, Martin Blunt seemed like a good guy, smart, accomplished. His pedigree was impeccable, and his photographs were eerily perfect, like he had been a Nautica model in a past life. Tim even found a few pictures of him sailing and at some beach house in a tee shirt and shorts. Yup, this guys was pretty much a stud. Question is... would he give Tim the job? Tim had arrived with time to spare and waited outside Martin's suite of offices on the third floor of the State Department. A large State Department seal hung on the wall along with photos of the President and world leaders. While he pretended to read The Economist, he saw Martin come out of his office with a stack of papers calling for a staffer. He had on dark suit pants, jacket off and the sleeves of his blue stripped shirt were rolled back. His black hair was greased back and severely parted, like the line was shaved into his head. As he called out for the staffer, Tim eyed his fine facial features, strong jaw, nice lips, and long, dark lashes that framed gorgeous blue eyes. His pictures didn't even do him justice. He saw Tim out of the corner of his eye and smiled with a half nod. What a hottie... Now, he really wanted that job. He looked around at the beautiful office space, the coming and going of so many staff, the great boss. He even noticed a desk right outside Martin's office that was clearly empty. He was sure that would be his desk. "He's ready for you now", said the secretary to a distracted Tim who hadn't turned a page in the magazine for 10 minutes. "Mr. Blunt, this is Tim Boyd". Nervously Tim entered the office. Martin had put his jacket on and was standing beside his desk to greet him with a warm smile and outstretched hand. "Martin Blunt. Good to meet you, Timothy. Please, have a seat. Coffee?" "No, thank you sir." said Tim sitting where Martin had indicated. Martin nodded to the receptionist to exit, leaving them alone. "So Timothy Boyd, from Cleveland, Ohio. How did you get here?", Martin asked. Tim told of his interest in politics and how he had just finished college when he had the chance to work for the Ohio State party for the presidential campaign. Martin asked about his business degree and other studies and his knowledge of international business affairs. They spoke for about 15 minutes, Tim slowly becoming less nervous as Martin helped him along the interview with his warmth and kindness. Finally Martin spoke about the demands of the job, the constant travel, the level of detail and perfection he expected in his body guy. Tim assured him that he could handle the task, even offering the sad fact that his father had died when he was young and he had been working since he was 12 to help support his mother and two younger sisters. Somehow, Tim hoped, this would serve as proof that he could multitask and take on considerable responsibilities despite his youth and relative inexperience. Martin was unsure if Tim was ready for this job. Sure, he had an admirable eagerness and drive, and something about his blue color background was reassuring. But he needed polish, experience, savvy. For some reason, though, the White House was pushing this kid on Martin, and in so many words had told Martin to give him the job. Martin didn't see why. Sure he had campaign experience, but so did the other candidates. He hadn't given any money. He didn't do anything exceptional on the campaign trail. But, he thought to himself that Tim did need a break, and if someone were going to mentor and shape this young kid, it might as well be himself. At least he seemed genuine and kind, and if Martin was going to spend most of his time with him, he might as well be cute. And Tim was cute. The interview concluded with the standard "We'll be in touch", but Martin was sure Tim had the job. Martin wasn't going to start a turf war with the White House. Tim left the building satisfied that he interviewed well but still nervous. He really liked Martin and wanted someone so put together as a mentor and boss. Plus Martin had a physical attraction and warmth that he admired. Something of an older brother, maybe even father figure Tim found comforting. As he walked to the bus stop thinking about the position and saying small prayers we would get it, he didn't notice a black limo pulled over beside him. "Hello young Mr. Boyd", said an older gentleman through the rolled down tinted black window. Tim looked over and his heart began to race. "Hello Mr. Rollins", he said deadpan, afraid to move. "Please, get in." George Rollins was an older man, close to 75, who years ago had married a lonely old widow and overnight becoming a very wealthy man. Unearned wealth is a dangerous thing, and George Rollins was a dangerous man. Behind the sophisticated facade of grace and class lay a sinister, manipulative and deeply insecure old man who craved power more greedily as death grew closer. He found ways to buy people's loyalty. What he really bought was their fear. He owned most of the car dealerships in the state and would encourage politicians to lease one for a discount. Later, a Congressman would get GPS printouts of his driving habits with a little note from George "Who is Darla Dixson? A friend of your wife's? Would love to know on Thursday when I visit your office at noon". Guess how that Congressman would vote on issues that impact the business interests of George Rollins... George had people photographed, followed, their garbage dug through and their phones illegally tapped. All so he could know more than anyone else. And people paid for his insights and knowledge, unwilling or uninterested in knowing where it came from. Some of the most powerful people in the nation kept George Rollins very close. He had been Chairman of the President's campaign. Tim often wondered what he had on the President. No one who knows George would voluntarily keep him around. Of course, Tim didn't know this 6 months ago when he was working on the campaign. He didn't realize he was being used in a plot to blackmail the President. It was August before the election, and the campaign was up 4 points in the latest poll after a 12 point swing in the last week alone. Their opponent had been caught on camera making some very nasty comments, and the video was viral on YouTube. Within hours it had over 15 million hits as the world watched the campaign implode. All the political world was amazed at not only at such vicious comments, but the quality of the recording. Some had questioned whether it was a plant or a set-up, but so far those rumors were only seen as deflections. For Tim and his underpaid, overworked staffers, it was a lucky break, and their campaign breathed signs of hope. That was when Elliott Anders, the campaign manager, had the idea of sending the candidate's (now the President) kids to swing states. Get the kids out among the people, shaking hands, kissing babies in town squares and local diners. This was the plan. So when Elliott assigned the President's youngest son, Josh, to Ohio, the State Director thought of Tim. He knew what a hard worker Tim was, how much he could be trusted and how loyal he was to the campaign. Josh was just a year younger than Tim, a senior at Princeton (though he took the year off for the campaign) and Tim could keep an eye on him. "The campaign will make the schedule and arrange all the logistics. You just stick with him. Be his friend. Keep him on schedule. Talk to him. He's going to get applauded and heckled all at once, and he'll need someone he can trust and turn to. I think you'd be a great ally and it's a position that I wouldn't offer to anyone else", the State Director told Tim. Tim immediately accepted. What an opportunity! To be that close to the candidate's son! What if we won? He'd know the President's son! It was an awesome opportunity, and his mom even cried on the phone with pride when Tim called her that night to share the news. She was so happy he was making it on his own- sure he had a rough start- but he wasn't going to be poor like she was. He was going to be rich and successful and she loved him very much. Tim himself got misty eyed when he hung up the phone. The State Director had given Tim keys to an apartment for him and Josh to use for the next month. It was downtown in a high security building, a modern and sleek open floor plan, black wood floors, large windows that let sunlight pour in. Tim had never seen such an apartment. He grew up in a small home with outdated appliances, old shag carpets and clashing wall paper. This space was white and spacious and shiny.. like the apartment of people who were on a TV show. It was only one bedroom and one bath, but Tim would sleep on a pullout couch and every day there would be maid service. Maid service! His mother cleaned houses on weekends, and now Tim himself had a house keeper. It was almost too good to be true. Why be suspicious that the apartment belonged to George Rollins? Josh arrived with little fanfare. One afternoon he just knocked on the door. Secret Service was staying next door, and the building was secured, so Josh enjoyed the opportunity to knock freely on a door again. When Tim opened it up, he was caught off guard. Josh was hot. He had that inquisitive, intellectual look of someone who was always thinking and processing. He had sq eyes, neat brown hair, dark eyes, and was about the same height and build as Tim. He came in with some luggage and papers and spoke to Tim like he had known him forever. "Hey Tim! So looks like we are roommates. Good to meet you. You see the schedule they have for us tomorrow? It's crazy. Hey can I put on coffee?" He was a whirlwind. They hit it off immediately. And that was a good thing, too, because they spent the next few days side by side from 6AM until midnight meeting voters, shaking many hands, talking to local leaders, flirting with daughters of important people, everything his dad was doing. It took it's tool on Josh who was having a harder time getting out of bed, and Tim had to wake him by physically shaking him. Josh was certainly not accustomed to the campaign's breakneck pace. One Sunday evening when an event got canceled, Josh suggested staying in and watching baseball, ordering pizza and beer. Sounded perfect to Tim, who reminded Josh he was not yet 21. Josh promised he'd be careful and Tim reluctantly bought a case of Miller lite. They lay around the living room like normal college kids in ratty tee shirts, athletic shorts, barefoot with feet up over the sides of the couch. A few beers in and Josh was chattier than ever before. "You're gay, right?", he asked Tim nonchalantly between pizza bites, as coolly as if he has asked him for the time. Tim hesitated. "It's cool, you don't have to say it. But yeah, I can pretty much tell." "You can tell?". "Yup. I can see the way you stare at hot guys. Like that black fireman yesterday? I think you shook his hand 4 times. Don't worry, no one notices at all, so you're doing a good job keeping it quiet." "But you notice?" "Well, yeah, I'm staring at the same guys." "You mean..." "Nah, I'm not gay. I think I'm bi though. Well, no, I know I'm bi. Can't have done some of the shit I've done and say you're not at least bi. But I've cut it out recently and the guys I've been with are all really cool and wouldn't say anything. Would kill my dad. And his campaign. The President and his homo son... that just wouldn't fly." Tim was amazed at how comfortable Josh as talking about this. He had the self esteem and confidence of someone much older, and it was a trait Tim admired and envied. He was not nearly as sure of himself or secure in his sexuality. Then again, Josh had been in the spot light his whole life. Maybe that forces you to mature faster than normal. "So, first time?", Josh asked, leaning in toward Tim on the couch. Tim got quiet. "Oh, I don't want to talk about that. It was not something I ever want to remember. But I've had some good times. Nothing serious, though. Never dated. Seems like guys our age who are gay don't want to date." "Yeah I hear you on that one. They just want to mess around. But that's also kind of fun, right?" Josh said, slapping Tim on the leg and smiling. "You want to jerk off together?" "WHAT?", Tim exclaimed. Man, was this guy blunt! "Look, Josh, you are really cool and all but this is kind of weird now". Tim tried to fake laugh but it just sounded nervous. Josh moved in closer. "Calm down bro! Look, you're really cute and I know how horny you are. Don't think I haven't heard you at night jerking off on this couch. Trust me I'd peak out and watch if I thought you'd keep going", Josh laughed as Tim turned bright red. "You know part of campaigning is campaign flings. No reason why we can't have fun too, right?" Josh said with his hand moving up Tim's leg. Josh put his hand under Tim's shorts and slide higher until he felt the line of his boxers. He let his hand dive under the boxers too, and he stopped right when he felt pubic hair. "What do you say, Boyd? Little bit of fun?". Tim just smiled in return, which Josh took as a tacit 'yes'. He stood up, took Tim by the hand and pulled him off the couch saying "Come on, on my bed". He gave Tim a shorty, yanking down his black Adidas shorts and boxers in one swift motion. Tim's cock popped out from underneath the tee shirt. Josh saw it and smiled. "Wow, that's a hot cock. Damn Boyd you are hung!". He grabbed Tim's cock in his hand and moved closer to Tim as if he was going to kiss him. Instead he whispered "you deserve a rock star blow job... and I'm the lucky bastard whose going to give it to you." He give Tim a quick peck on the lips and reach around and smacked Tim hard on the ass. Tim jumped and laughed, and Josh turned and ran into the bedroom unbuttoning his shirt, laughing like a maniac. For the next few week while Josh stayed in Ohio on the campaign, he and Tim regularly hooked up. The only nights they didn't was because of sheer exhaustion, but even then they slept in Josh's bed together. They never went beyond oral sex, and that was a mutual decision. They knew they were just having fun, it wasn't a relationship, wasn't love, and they decided to keep it simple. But their oral sex was intense. Tim, for a guy who was not strong or stocky, had an enormous cock, well over 8 inches when erect. And Josh found it fun. He loved to put their cocks side by side and laugh at how much smaller his was in comparison. Even in talking about his small penis, Josh was totally comfortable and unaffected. He radiated confidence. So natural was their relationships that they would often ask and offer each other advice to be better lovers. Josh encouraged Tim to tell him what felt good, what didn't, and he told Tim what he liked, too. It made Tim be more comfortable with his sexuality, with his body and with his ability to pleasure someone. One particular time Tim, Josh was sitting up in bed, leaning against the head board. Tim was standing above him, holding the headboard for balance, while he face fucked Josh who loved to swallow as much of Tim's cock as he could. He made Tim cum all on his face, and encouraged him to lick some of it up saying no matter who blows you, guy or girl, there is something really hot about cleaning your cum off their face your tongue. Tim had never done it before, but trusted Josh's advice. Tim knelt down next to Josh who tilted his head back, and drew Tim closer, whispering softly. "Fuck that's nice. So hot. Yeah, right off the chin. Now take your tongue and push some of the cum up to my mouth and kiss me." They kissed softly and Tim laughed a little when Josh congratulated him on a job well done. "Fuck, you are hot, Tim. That was hot." It was a sweet, almost innocent playfulness between two kids having fun with their bodies. It was a moment Tim treasured as special. He couldn't believe George Rollins had captured it on film. After Josh had finished his Ohio tour and Tim vacated that apartment. George Rollins asked to meet with him. Tim could not imagine what the Chairman of the Campaign wanted. A car picked him up and drove him two hours to his mansion in Chicago. In the library, George made Tim watch this video. Tim couldn't believe it at first. It took a few seconds to process. Their time together, those intimate moments... recorded??? Tim begged George to turn it off, he knew how it ended, but George just told him to watch. A tragic juxtaposition, really. A terrified, humiliated Tim watching a joyful, laughing Tim joking with a lover on the computer screen. While Tim and Josh giggled as they swapped cum on the screen, Tim began to sob. He had never felt so violated. "Terrible, really, what this will do to the President. His own son, his youngest, some consider him to be the real heir to the President's legacy. And he's a queer. Can you imagine if this leaked online? What the media will do? The President could never recover. And you? You would be the one who brought down the White House. You would be a hated man, Mr. Boyd. Your career would be over, that's for sure. Unless you can make a career eating sperm. Can you, Mr. Boyd? Can you make a career of that?" George teased him. Tim sat in an arm chair and sobbed. "Of course, Mr. Boyd, I could keep this quiet.", he said walking to the bar and pouring himself a drink. "I could do that." "Would you? Please Mr. Rollins? Please sir, if not for me, at least for Josh. I'll do whatever you want." "Oh, yes, young Mr. Boyd. You will do what I want. Some day I will call upon you. For now though you are safe. But I'll be back, or this gets out. Understand, little faggot?". He rung a small bell and a maid entered the room. "Escort him out.", he said, turning his back. That was months ago, and today George Rollins had returned. "Young Mr. Boyd, you didn't think I had forgotten you, did you?", George asked Tim as the car drove off. "No. I don't think you are stupid enough to think that. But you are stupid enough to think that you landed this interview on your own." Tim looked up from the floor and made direct eye contact at George's evil grin. "A position men 10 years older than you are vying for? You think you secured this because of... what? Your 2.8 GPA at Ohio State? Your envelope stuffing skills? Or is it your love of cock", he mused, as if talking to himself. "I wonder what Timothy Boyd did to get such a coveted position... hmmmm... oh that's right! Nothing. I did it. Now here's what's going to happen Mr. Boyd. Your future boss is someone I want under my control. He's got a secret- everyone has secrets. And I need to know what that is. You will have access to his computer, his office, his files. I suspect he is sleeping with the First Lady. I know he's got something in his closet and I need to find out what that is. Otherwise he will make decisions that will hurt my business. Now you will get me some dirt on Martin Blunt." He changed his voice to mock Tim turning it sweet and concerned like he was going to cry. "You wouldn't want to hurt poor Josh, would you? Or your poor mother... home watching CNN on her black and white TV and sees her son's photo on the screen with breaking news headline: Tim Boyd sex scandal that destroys the President. Poor mommy Boyd." George paused to let the blackmail sink into Tim's mind and cause real fear. He spoke plainly again, "We have a deal, don't we faggot?" Tim nodded staring down at the floor, trying his hardest not to cry. "Good. Have a good day, Mr. Boyd. And congratulations on the new job", he said opening up the door. When Tim stepped out he realized he was in front of his own house. He stood watching the limo drive off, too afraid to move.