Date: Fri, 16 Jun 2006 21:32:52 -0500
From: David J <boricuaholandes@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Senator's Son -- Chapter 9

Disclaimer -- This is a work of fiction depicting a situation involving
homosexual men.  If you are offended or are under the legal age to view such
matierials, please do not read further.  By continuing, you agree that
neither the author nor nifty are responsible for any actions that occur as a
result of this story or an individual's interpretation.  Also, if you are a
"bible thumper," please email me any comments you have.  I will rebuke every
claim that you make.  If you have other comments, feel free to email me if
you wish.  The address is boricuaholandes@hotmail.com.

---

	Between Christmas and my birthday, two and a half months pass.  The season
before my twenty-sixth birthday was wrought with emotion, spanning the
spectrum of emotional reaction.  There were good days; there were bad days.
There were days that I hated the world, but there were days when I longed to
move past the events of the previous December and get back in touch with the
world.  Things that I once loved doing terrified me.  Things that terrified
kept me from doing anything other than go to class and come home on regular
days, and only making trips to Abu's house or my parents' home in Oneonta.

	Pedro was a rock during that time, though.  He stood beside me, being my
cheerleader one hundred percent of the time.  My love for him grew stronger
and stronger with every passing day.  This being said, though, I had become
somewhat dependent on him, expecting him to put me before him from time to
time.  He never would say anything to me, though.  I think he still felt
guilty about what happened.

	Around the time of my birthday, which falls on the 7th of March, things had
begun to look up for me.  My last semester in school was working out nicely.
  None of my classes were too stressful.  Gonzálo's trial ended with a
guilty verdict just days before my 26th birthday.  Ecstatic relief enveloped
me as the foreman of the jury read the verdict to the judge.

	That night, just as those before the verdict, I only slept because Pedro's
massive arms held me tightly, protecting me from the world.  Even though
Gonzálo was in jail for his invasion of my being, I struggled with moving
past the demons that still existed in my soul.  Visits to Georgia were
helping, but they hadn't yet been completely successful.  Antony came down
almost every weekend to see both Maria and me.  His youthful energy and
wisdom helped me as much as trips to see Georgia.

	One of things that helped me get up every morning was waking up to the
comfort of the arms of the man who loved me as much, if not more, than I
loved him.  On the morning of my birthday, he wasn't there.  At some point
in the hours before I woke up, he'd slipped away from me.  I got up quickly,
but there was no sign he was even in the apartment.  I didn't immediately
panic, which surprised me.  Inside, I knew that he was OK, wherever he was.
I heard the coffee pot sputter in the kitchen, and I walked in to find that
Pedro had made a pot of coffee before his earlier departure.  In front of
the pot was a plain, white card with my name written across the front.

	I opened the card.  "Happy Birthday, my favorite man," it started.  "I love
you, so very much.  You have brightened my world since the moment we first
met.  You are my life!  You've been through so much since we met that I
wanted your birthday to be the most special one of your life.  I've been
trying to think of just how to make it memorable.  I think that I've found a
way, but you're gonna have to do some running around."  I smiled at the
insertion of a smiley on the note, since Pedro very rarely veered from
formal rules when writing.  I continued reading, "I want you to go take a
shower.  When you get out, wear the outfit that I've laid out for you in the
laundry room.  I love you, and I will see you later.  Your next clue will be
there.  Don't peek before you shower! –Love, Pedro"

	I smiled and rushed to take a shower.  When I finished, I grabbed the
clothes from the laundry room.  Pedro had purchased a pair of Lucky Brand
jeans and a blue t-shirt that said "birthday boy" in a vintage style.  I
pulled on the pants over a pair of black underwear that always made my ass
look perfect.  For some reason, I felt like being perfect for him when I did
see him.  The excitement of the challenge made me momentarily forget about
all the hurt and the pain of the few months before.  I grabbed my wallet and
keys from the dining area table.  I fumbled around but couldn't find the key
to my car on the ring.

	I searched the room, but there was no sign of the key to my car.  I was
distraught and reached for my cell phone to call Pedro, which I had almost
forgotten in the hurry to get out of the apartment.  Sitting beside my phone
was a Volkswagen key/remote control.  I walked outside and a cream colored
Jetta sitting outside the apartment.  It was adorned with a white bow.  I
hit the unlock button on remote control.  The car beeped.  This was
evidently part of my birthday present.  "Shit," I thought to myself.

	I walked slowly to the car and inspected it all over.  It was brand new.
It was perfectly clean.  I took the bow off the car before opening the
driver's door and sitting on the leather seat.  "This is why he was asking
me cars the other day," I said to myself as I recalled a conversation we'd
had a few days before about cars.  I clicked the key open and started the
car.  The tank was full, and there were fewer than 15 miles on the car.  The
car reeked of newness.  I looked around the parking lot, and my car was no
where to be found.  I pulled myself completely into the seat and played with
the knobs and buttons for a moment.  I was enthralled by the car.  The CD
player began to play after a moment.

	I heard the sound of Pedro humming through the speakers.  "Oh hey babe," he
said in a moment.  He continued to hum.  "I hope that your birthday is going
well.  I'm sorry that I wasn't able to be there when you opened your lovely
brown eyes this morning.  That's one thing I love about you.  Your eyes are
so beautiful.  Hmmm...  Well, I guess you're sitting in your new car now.  I
ordered it especially for you.  Everything is just how you were telling me
you wanted it, even the seat warmers.  I hope that you like it.  Well, I
guess I should explain what I meant when I said that you were gonna have to
do some running around before you got the rest of your gift.  It's nothing
too bad, I promise.  It's more like a scavenger hunt, only easier.  You'll
be going around the city taking care of a few things.  I know you've not
gotten out a lot lately, but you need to.  You're too awesome and too hot
not to show yourself off."  I began to tear up as he continued saying
something else.  He was forcing me to do what I've known for a while that I
needed to do.  "Now.  You're first stop is at your bank.  Ask for Sharondola
when you get there."  Silence came through the stereo system for a second,
followed by music.  Paulina Rubio's "Quiero cambiarme" was the first song to
play, followed by Andrea Echeverri, one of Pedro's favorite female singers.

	As I drove out of the complex and toward the bank, I thought of the past
few months.  I'd not thought about how secluded I'd become.  I literally
only left my house to go to class, to go to see my counselor, and the
occasional trips to see Abu and my parents.  The drive seemed longer than
normal, though I know it was only because my mind was preoccupied by the
introspection Pedro had started with his words on the CD.

	I arrived at the bank to find that the only space was the one closest to
the door.  When I walked in, the lobby was more crowded than I'd ever seen
it.  There were five tellers, each waiting on what looked to be an extremely
stressful customer.  To my right, there were desks set up where bankers were
helping with account questions.  To my left, a security guard sat at a desk
in front of three offices, each of them occupied by someone on the phone.

	"Are you David?" one of the bankers asked.

	"Yes," I said, turning to see one of the gayest people I'd ever seen.

	"Great!  Sharondola has been waiting on you.  Give me just a second, and
I'll get her for you."  He walked across the crowded lobby and over to one
of the offices opposite his desk.  The lady looked up and out at me through
the glass walls and smiled.  She held up one finger, noting that she would
be right with me, and the boy returned to the desk, smiling at me as he
passed.  In a moment, Sharondola hung up the phone and came out, into the
lobby.

	"David!" she said as she got closer to me.  "Happy Birthday!"

	"Thank you!" I said as I smiled at the African-American lady walking toward
me.  "You must be Sharondola," I went on as I extended my hand to shake
hers.

	"Yes sir, I am," she responded as we stood in the bank and talked for a
moment.

	"So you seem like a lucky man, David.  I've known Pedro for a while, and I
don't know that I've eve seen Pedro as happy as when he talks about you,"
she confessed.

	"I love him so much," I said, feeling compelled to add to her comment.

	"Good.  Well, I was told to give this to you when you came by," she said,
handing me an envelope.  I opened it to find a note and a gift card.  "Well,
David.  I've got to get back to work.  It was nice meeting you, though, and
I hope you have a great day."

	"I will," I said, turning to leave the bank.  As I walked back to the car,
I opened the card, which was written on the same paper as the note this
morning.

	"Dear David," it started, "I see you've met Sharondola.  She was my one and
only girlfriend in high school.  I'll tell that story later, though.  Well,
the next place you need to go to is Dante's Inferno, that little gourmet
barbecue place on Lakeshore.  Ask for Dante, once you get there.  I love you
more than anything!  --Pedro"

	Per his instructions, I travelled down the road from Greensprings to
Lakeshore.  I turned toward the Wildwood Shopping complex, and as I turned
in, I noticed the crowd of people standing outside the restaurant.  "This is
the place," I said to myself, having never seen the place without a crowd
loitering outside for the best ribs in Birmingham.

	I parked and made my way through the crowd of people and to the host's
station.  Two old women were standing at the station already, arguing with
the man standing there.  "Do you know who I am?" one of the women asked.

	"No ma'am.  Who are you?" the guy asked.

	"I am Margaret Becket, and my husband is the pastor at First Baptist Church
of Birmingham," she explained, obviously proud of her connection to the most
vocally conservative church in the city.

	"Ma'am.  That doesn't impress me.  Number 1: I'm gay.  Number 2: I'm
Methodist.  And if you look behind you, you'll see David Jansen, son of
Senator Michael Jansen.  He's not even gonna get a table for at least an
hour and a half.  So if you'd like, just step over to the bar, have a couple
of drinks, and loosen up ladies," the guy explained.  Everyone around
chuckled, including me.

	"Well, where is your manager?" the old lady asked, sounding offended.

	"He's right over there, let me get him.  DANTE!"

	"Yes," the man said as he came up to the desk after dropping off a plate of
barbecue for a table closely.

	"I would like to file a complaint against this man," the old lady said.
"In addition to the fact that he's rude, he's also a queer.  Those people
shouldn't be allowed to be in public, much less in a position to offend the
decent Christian people of this city."

	"Ma'am," Dante said, interrupting the lady, "I'm gonna go ahead and ask you
to leave my establishment.  In this place, we love each other, regardless of
any difference that we might have from one another.  If you can't respect
that, then I'll ask you to leave."

	"Just wait until my husband hears about this," she said as she turned.  She
glared at me for a moment, but then walked past me.

	"David, I assume," he said after taking a quick second to thank the guy at
the host's stand.

	"Yes sir."

	"Pedro's told me about you.  Come on with me," he said as we walked toward
a table that had been reserved for something.  "If you'll have a seat, I'll
be right back with you," he instructed.  I sat at the reserved table for a
little while as people passed quickly.  Dante eventually returned to the
table with two plates of ribs.

	I must have acted excited at the sight of the plates, as Dante started to
laugh.  "Pedro always has the exact same look on his face when I serve him
ribs."

	"Oh really?" I asked, smiling at the man as he sat to join me for a quick
lunch.

	"Yeah.  It's the same look that he's had on his face since his grandfather
would bring him in when he was a little boy.  He loves some ribs."  Dante
seemed to have a special place in his mind and heart for Pedro, almost as if
he felt the need to protect him from something.  "He's a good kid.  I hate
that he's been through so much stuff in his life, but he's happy now.  He's
not been this happy in a very long time."

	We sat there and ate and talked.  He asked me a lot of questions about
myself, almost to see if I were good enough for Pedro.  When I finished, he
arranged for his waiters to sing `Happy Birthday' before handing me another
envelope.  There was just a card this time, but he told me that lunch was on
him.

	As I walked out of the restaurant, several people wished me happy birthday,
making me wonder what had kept me inside my apartment for so long.  As I
stepped back into the Jetta, I opened the letter.  It was as sweet as the
others, but gave me more instructions about where to go.

	He sent me on two more destinations: to a tux shop and a shoe store before
giving me a final instruction: go back home.  By the end of the day, I'd
driven to the eastern side of town, edging closer and closer to the end of
the evening.  As I drove back to the apartment, I thought about the day.  It
had been a really good one, better, in fact, than I'd had in a very long
time.

	When I got back to the apartment, I pulled the car into the same space it
had been earlier in the day.  An eerie emptiness enveloped the complex as I
walked toward our apartment.  When I opened the door, there was no one
there.  I was as alone in the apartment as I'd been when I left that
morning, but I wasn't nervous by the prospects of what was going on.

	As I sat on the couch, still relaxing, I saw it: the final note from Pedro.
  It was taped to the front of the TV.  As with the others, it was written
on the same paper and with the same pen.  "Dearest David," the letter
started.  "You have one final trip to make before everything is over.  Get
showered and put the suit on.  Once you get out, call my cell phone.  I love
you!  --Pedro"

	I showered for the second time that day, readying myself for the evening.
I got out and got dressed as quickly as possible.  I was more than ready to
see Pedro.  Being without him for a day, I felt lost.  As I walked out of
the apartment, I dialed his number.

	"Hello?" he answered.  I heard music in the background that faded after a
second.

	"Hey baby," I resonded.

	"How is the finest man alive?" he asked me upon realizing who was calling.

	"He's awesome.  How is the my favorite boyfriend?"

	"He's really eager to see you, that's for sure," he answered.  "Have you
had a good birthday so far?"

	"It's been interesting.  I've liked my gifts, babe, but you spent way too
much money on me."

	"No I didn't.  I got you what you wanted."

	"But you bought me a car, Pedro."

	"Do you not like it?"

	"I love it, Pedro.  It's exactly what I wanted.  But it's a lot of
money..."

	"David.  I don't care about the money.  I got it for you because you wanted
it.  I have the money.  I'm not worried about it."

	"At least let me pay you back for part of it."

	"No sir."

	"Pedro!"

	"David!  Don't argue with me.  It's yours; it's in your name; it's got
insurance on it; there's no other money that you owe me for it.
Understood?"

	"Pedro.  I understand.  I love you," I said.  I felt guilty about the
amount of money he spent on me.  Not just the car, but the tux, the shoes
and everything else weighed on my mind.

	"I love you too, babe.  I'm sorry for getting upset.  It's your birthday."

	"There's no need to apologize, Pedro.  So where am I supposed to meet you?"

	"Someone's on their way.  I don't want you to have to drive tonight."

	"OK?"

	"Just trust me," he said.  I could hear him smiling.  A knock on the door
disturbed our conversation.  "Hold on a second, Pedro."

	"OK," he said as I pulled the phone from my ear.  I cracked the door just
far enough to see a man, clad in a black suit with a driver's hat.

	"Mr. Jansen.  I'm here to pick you up?" the man said.

	"Give me just a minute," I said.  Pulling the phone back to my ear.  "You
got me a driver?"

	"Yep.  I'll talk to you in a little while, though.  I love you!"

	"I love you too," I said, grabbing my wallet and apartment keys.

	"Bye," he said, hanging up his phone.

	"Mr. Jansen.  Are you ready?" the driver asked.

	"Yes.  I am," I added as I locked the door.  "So what's your name?"

	"James, sir," he responded.

	"Great.  James.  I'm David.  Call me David."

	"Yes sir," he said as he opened the door of the limousine.

	For forty-five minutes, we drove toward the southern part of town.  Between
traffic and the basic idiocy of the drivers in Birmingham, it was hard to
tell whether James was more nervous than me or vice versa.  All of my
emotions, though, shifted to awe and amazement as we pulled up to the `Hôtel
la Fleur,' Birmingham's most posh hotel.  It was 45 stories tall, and it was
fabled to have a suite that took up the top two floors.  It wasn't the
highest building in Birmingham, but it was, by far, the nicest.  Before Josh
died, he said that he wanted us to spend our wedding night there.

	We pulled under the awning leading to the door, and a valet came over and
opened my door.  "Good Evening, sir," he said.

	"Good evening," I responded back as I walked to the door.  A doorman opened
the first door, while the second opened automatically.  The doorman greeted
me as well.

	My shoes clanged against the marble floor as I walked past a gilded
fountain and toward the front desk.  Two equally stunning ladies, Beth and
Dana, smiled and offered to help me.

	"I'm David Jansen."

	"Oh hi, Mr. Jansen," Beth said.  "We've been waiting on you," she added as
she walked from behind the counter.

	Dana followed.  "Security.  Code DJ," Dana said into the walkie talkie she
carried as they walked me down a corridor lined with carpet on the floors
and original art on the wall.

	"10-4" the security person called back.

	In a moment, we entered the "Eduardo Morales Convention Hall."  The room
was dark.  "Where are we?" I asked the girls.  After a second, "God Sent
You," a song from my high school days, began to play.  A single light shone
on the stage opposite the door I'd been brought through.  A girl began
singing the song from beneath the light.  Enamored by the moment, I failed
to notice that Beth and Dana had made their exit.  I felt the presence of
someone in the room other than the person singing.

	"Hey," Pedro whispered from behind me.  He put his hand around my waist and
stood behind me.  I jumped at the first touch, but was quickly calmed by the
sound of him breathing in my ear.

	"Hey," I whispered back.  "I could kiss you, baby."

	"Then turn around and kiss me."  I turned around and found his lips,
despite the almost total darkness.  In Pedro's arms, kissing him, I heard
the words of the song for the very first time.  A single tear flowed down my
cheek.  "What's wrong?"

	"I just realized why this is my favorite song.  ...God sent you...to love
and cherish me...you're the only man I need," I said as the lady sang to us.
  Each note of the song touched me deeply.

	"David.  I love you," he said right as the bridge of the song was coming.

	"I love you too," I added.  A low light came over the room.  I realized
that we weren't alone.  As I looked around, I saw my parents, Abu, Maria,
and Antony.  Cole, Jamie, and Kyle were standing on the other side of the
room.  "So how many people are coming?"

	"Your brother and sister are on their way."

	"Cool."

	"Happy Birthday, my love," he whispered into my ear as my family and
friends made their way to where we were.  As the lights were brought up
completely, our chanteuse was replaced by a DJ, who played a good mix of
music over the course of the evening.

	Each person there wished me a happy birthday.  I felt loved by all of them
and happy in my own skin.  It was the first time for those feelings in a
very long time.  At around two that morning, the party began to wind down.
By three, all of the guests had left and the hotel staff was clearing away
the trash caused by the party.

	"So did you have a good birthday?" he asked as he continued to stand there
and dance.

	"I did," I said as I looked into his brown eyes.

	"I'm glad you did.  Let's go up to our room."

	"Our room?"

	"Yeah.  I managed to get us a room in this place for the night."

	"Wow," I said as we walked out of the room and down the corridor to the
main lobby.

	We walked down the hall.  I was on the right, and he was on the left.  He
draped his arm over my shoulder.  The girls were still at work when we came
back through the lobby.  They smiled at us, giddily.  "May I have our key
please?"

	"Yes, Mr. Morales," Dana said as she handed Pedro the key.  We walked past
the elevators to what was identified as an express elevator.  Pedro inserted
a key in the elevator, closing the door.  The elevator shot up the side of
the building.  When it finally stopped, the door opened to reveal the most
posh hotel room I'd ever seen.  The elevator opened directly into the foyer
of the room.  The living room was next.  It was decorated with dark leather
sofas and mahogany tables.  From the broad window, one could see a brilliant
view of the southern part of the Metro area.  There were two bedroom suites
that adjoined the living room on the lower level.  Scaling a staircase, we
found the master suite on the second floor.

	"So, Mr. Morales," I said as we both began to get undressed, "what prompted
all this?"

	"Well.  I wanted to make it a very special night for you.  I wanted you to
have fun with people that loved you, that you loved.  I wanted you to be a
prince for the day," he said as he came over to me.  He took me into his
arms and kissed me deeply on the mouth.  I was too busy thinking about how
much I loved this man to realize that this was the first time in two and a
half months that he'd kissed me like this.  It was the first time since the
rape that I'd felt that I could handle the electricity of his kisses.

	"Are you OK?" he asked.

	"Yeah.  I'm great."  I sat in silence for a second, letting him hold me.
"Pedro?"

	"Yeah babe."

	"It's time."

	"It's time?  For what?"

	"Think about it."

	"Oh!" he exclaimed.  I felt his hard cock press up against me through his
pants.

	"Now you understand!" I joked with him.

	He reached himself down and kissed me again.  I moaned as I began to lose
control of the situation.  I was nervous.  I didn't know if I was going to
be able to handle any of what was going to be going on, but I was more than
willing to let Pedro have control of what was going on.

	We undressed each other quickly.  I later found out that I'd actually
ripped two buttons on his shirt.

	"You OK, Dave?" he asked before he took off his pants.

	"I'm great Pedro.  Now shut up and do me."

	He chuckled and then went to the bedside table, pulling out a bottle of
lube and a condom.

	"How did you know I'd want it tonight?" I asked as he climbed onto the bed.

	"Because you've been pushing yourself into my hips at night for the last
three days," he explained.  "And I just had a feeling."  He finished pulling
the condom over his dick and lubed his now throbbing member.

	"Will you do me a favor?" I asked.

	"Sure."

	"Be gentle."

	"Yes sir.  And if you want me to stop, that's fine.  Just tell me."
Concern enveloped his face, waiting for reassurance that I was ready to go.

	"Yes sir," I answered as he lifted my leg up.  Slowly, he pushed against my
sphincter.  As he pushed in, I felt all of the sensations I'd not
experienced in so long.  I let out a sigh as I felt his push deeper and
deeper into me.

	"Are you OK?" he asked.

	"Yeah," I answered as he stopped pushing.  He felt so good inside me.  He
smiled.  Slowly, he began to move back and forth within me.  I loved the way
he made me feel.

	Pedro pumped and pumped as the sun shone began to rise and shine through
the picturesque window that I realized spanned both floors of the suite.
His breathing began to get deeper and his sweat began to fall onto my body.
He moaned as he pushed deeper and deeper within me.  The sensations caused
by his massage of my prostate became too much for me.  As he continued to
pump my throbbing asshole, I felt the rumblings inside me.  Before I knew
it, I was spewing gob after gob of my own man juice.  Some of it landed on
my chest; some of it landed on Pedro; some of it ended up on the wall behind
the bed.  The tightening of my ass sent Pedro over the edge.  I felt every
burst from his penis.  I felt every burst exploding in my ass.  I felt one
so hard that I knew the condom broke and cum flooded and coated my eager
ass.

	He fell onto me, having spent his last drop of energy.  "Are you OK?" he
said, more concerned about me than his own euphoria.

	"Yeah," I answered, a myriad of emotions flooding my mind.  "I'm better
than fine."  All of the fears I'd had were for naught.  I was worried that
it would hurt too bad; it didn't.  I was afraid that I'd get sick to my
stomach; I didn't.  I was afraid that all of the images that still haunted
me from the rape would resurface; they didn't, partly because Pedro and I
were making love.  "How are you?" I asked after a silence.

	"I'm great.  I just made love with a great guy that I love more than life."
  He turned over, laying his large masculine arms across my cum-soaked
chest.  He kissed my cheek twice before falling asleep.  Within a few
minutes, I fell asleep myself.

	My birthday ended far differently than how it started.  At the end of the
day, I was happy, a far cry from the emptiness and sadness that I'd felt as
the day opened without Pedro by my side.  It was a far cry from the many
mornings, afternoons, and evenings that I'd lived through since Gonzálo's
disruption of my life.

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Questions or comments, email me on: boricuaholandes@hotmail.com
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