Date: Fri, 15 Dec 2000 08:24:03 -0800 (PST) From: Orrin Rush Subject: The Lifeguard Chapter 33 Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction. If you are offended by graphic descriptions of homosexual acts, go somewhere else. Copyright c 2000 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 33 Edgar's offer wasn't a surprise. The twenty five dollar jump was. I'd expected a five or ten dollar increase, but not fifty percent. Good old Edgar had aspirations of being a player! We would counter, of course, but the question was how much and how soon. In my mind, if we went too high too fast, we would give the impression that we'd counter any offer that Edgar made and sellers would sit back and wait until one or the other of us was thoroughly bloodied before committing. It was time to call in the experts who had more experience than we did. I was excited. The battle was on, and Eric picked up on it. In my opinion, he had developed kind of a ho-hum attitude toward the whole thing. Maybe it was a mistake to do some of the things I was without telling him, but I felt he'd think I was nuts or paranoid, or just plain greedy. A council of war was convened. Eric and Bill, Jay and Rob from our PR Department and the H. James bunch from San Francisco. Seated around the conference table in my office, I looked around and had to chuckle to myself. Poor Bill was the only straight man there. I also smiled at the irony of having the "James Gang" among us. Although as yet unconfirmed, it was rumored that Edgar had put together a group of backers that included some well known Corporate raiders. It was an open discussion covering all aspects of our position. We had the advantage in that we needed fewer than two million more shares to reach our objective, Edgar had to buy almost seven million to stop us, and he had to do it first. The James boys gave us a stockholder profile. Railroad shares were traditionally held in retirement accounts because they could be depended upon to pay dividends providing reliable income. "A Widows and Orphans Stock" they were usually called. CLP's shareholders, all 30,000 of them, fit this profile. There were a few exceptions, however, and these were the ones that interested me, ones holding more than the 400 share average. Edgar's rumored "partners" were dissected. Their normal modus operandi was to get in, carve up the company, and sell off the parts quickly at a modest profit. Quick buck artists who didn't stick around, and if they couldn't pick up a bargain, they'd back off. The big question here was what they considered a "bargain". Even more important was how much they knew about the "real" value of the company. Stockholder psychology was discussed. Jay and Rob had a lot of input here. Deadlines were important, but it was common knowledge that they could be extended. As long as the bidding was active, sellers would wait, hoping that it would go even higher. Only when it appeared that the limit had been reached, or the bidders dropped out, would they act. It was a big poker game, really. We kicked ideas around until we were all worn out, finally agreeing to wait two weeks, then counter at 85, up ten dollars. Edgar's reaction would then give us direction on how to proceed. I had asked the James gang to bring me the stockholder data, on disk. They were hesitant to give it to me, explaining that they were "professionals" and could handle everything. What they didn't say was that they didn't want me, a rank amateur, out there screwing up the works. Reluctantly, they handed it over. Throughout the meeting, I had contributed little, and Eric even less. This was new territory, and I guess we both wanted to hear what the "experts" had to say. - - - - - Annie had drawn a blank on her Title searches. Every parcel checked had come up clean. That, however, wasn't her interest at the moment. We had finally cracked the Railroad computers and had a ton more data to process. The first opportunity I had, I worked on the Stockholder file the James gang had given to me. It was in database format, and I was delighted to find a field that showed the number of shares held by each owner. I ran a total. It came up 30,920,300. That didn't seem right, so I made a quick check. It was exactly 500,000 shares less than were supposed to be outstanding. Why? I got hold of Annie and asked her to have the "whiz" give that file priority. I wanted to see if they had the same numbers. In a hurry. Evidently it was an easy one for him to translate because she was back to me in hours with the same number. Since I had an "Official Copy", I could ask questions, and I did. When I confronted the James gang with my findings, they were flabbergasted. They promised to look into it "as soon as they could". That wasn't good enough. "Listen, my friend," I told him, "You're running this offer for me, and I think we'd both better know what the hell's going on. Get me an answer and get it to me by tomorrow." "But we won't have time," he answered. Calmly, I asked, "Can you put Mr. James on the phone?" "I'm sorry he can't be disturbed." "You'd better disturb him, or somebody else's going to be handling this thing before morning." "Just a minute, Sir." James came on. "Is there a problem, Mr. Rush?" I calmly explained what I'd found, and told him that I didn't appreciate being treated in such cavalier fashion. He merely murmured, which really pissed me off. "Listen, James, I realize that this is only a two and a half billion dollar deal, and if that isn't big enough to get some attention, I can sure as hell take it elsewhere." "Please don't threaten me, Mr. Rush." "I'll do whatever it takes to get some action," I told him. "Raising your voice won't help." "What will?" I asked. "Just be reasonable, we'll work on it as soon as we can get to it." "And when will that be?" "We should have an answer in a few days," he said. "Not good enough," I told him. "You're fired." "But we have an agreement," he whined. "You're incompetent, so sue me. Have everything ready to be picked up by ten o'clock tomorrow morning." "It'll be ready, and you'll be hearing from my attorneys." I hung up, fuming. I grabbed the phone again and called Steve. "How fast can your people take over our Tender Offer?" I asked. "I thought you'd never ask!" he answered. "Come on, Steve, be serious. I need help and I need it fast." "What happened?" "Those fags at H. James gave me the runaround, so I fired their asses," I told him. "We've got real men around here," he told me in his best baritone. "Consider your butt covered. All that stuff is handled out of our New York office, but I'll have some good men here tomorrow to take over." "Thanks, Steve," and I truly meant it. When I told Eric what I'd done and why, he totally agreed. With that glint in his eye, he purred "Ummmm, that power thing again, wait'll tonight!" - - - - - With a change like this occurring in the middle of a major battle for a public company, the press had to be notified, and was. It was a definite black eye for H. James. Steve's firm, Peabody-Durer, always shortened to "PD" or just plain "Peabody", wasn't the largest brokerage house on Wall Street, but was one of the most respected. The three men who came from New York were vastly different from the "James gang". Serious but communicative, explaining everything that had been done, what they would be doing, and what needed to be done next. Thinking that this would be an excellent opportunity for Eric to learn more about the intracacies of a Public acquisition, I urged him to sit in on everything. Most of the time, though, he begged off, using some problem at Lundborg Rush as an excuse. I was disappointed but so involved myself that I didn't give it much thought. It was agreed that the counter offer we had planned was a good idea and the timing was right. Not too eager, and still soon enough to maintain everyone's attention. The issue of the missing half million shares had been settled in hours. It was Treasury stock that the Railroad had purchased on the open market for unspecified purposes. Since it was controlled by management, namely Edgar, we had to consider it lost. At least it was accounted for. Annie and I went back to our "project". As I expected, the Railroad owned land under different names too. There weren't too many parcels involved, and they were all either in San Francisco or Orange Counties. We decided not to have them appraised, but Annie did have title searches run on a sampling. Here's where we struck pay dirt. Annie couldn't understand why I was so delighted to find something that she considered negative. Thankfully, she just shrugged her shoulders and went ahead with searches on all the San Francisco and Orange County properties. In total, there were six properties with loans on them. We obtained full title reports which included the loan agreements on them. When Annie looked them over, she still didn't understand my elation. I'd talked with John Bussey a couple of times, but he had been rather non-commital on the phone, saying he'd tell me anything "good" in person. He took secrecy seriously. I made another "quiet" trip to Phoenix. When I got to his office, I thought I was at the wrong address. The place was empty. Looking around, I saw John sitting in a pickup parked in front. He motioned me over with a big grin. "That a rental?" he asked, pointing at the car Jason and I had driven up in. I nodded. "Can we lose your driver and drive around and talk?" "Jason stays," I told him. "He's my pilot and you can say anything you want in front of him." "If you say so," he agreed. We got in, John in front, me in back alone. "We felt it was a good idea to make a few changes," he grinned over the seat. "Guess I'd better start at the beginning. "After you gave us that job, we started hearing rumors. All of a sudden there was a lot of interest in a couple of pieces of that Railroad land. A whole LOT of interest. More surveys were being ordered and the old boys getting the jobs were snickerin' and haulin' in the cash. "Now understand, me and my boys do a lot of listenin' but don't do much talkin', least not about what we're doing." At this point the country bumpkin routine was dropped and the polished college graduate took over. "Mr. Rush, I did my research too. I know a lot more about you than I did, and I understand what you're doing. When the dust settles, I think I want to be on your side. "Right now your competitors, I believe, are concentrating on two pieces of ground that virtually everybody knows contain valuable ore. We'd like to keep their attention focused right there. You know about the other properties the Railroad owns, and now, so do we. We want to keep it that way, so we moved our office somewhere else. Where isn't important, what we learn is, and the office is fully secure, I assure you. We're acting like we don't have anything to do, and cutting back, and my boys are spending more time at the local hangouts with their ears open." "What are you finding?" I asked. "The USGS maps are only an indication of what may lie beneath the surface, but the combination of minerals in some of these deposits is more than encouraging. The only way we can prove our educated guesses is to do core sampling and a lot of other on-site testing. Now is not the time to even consider doing that." "All I'm interested in, at this point, is whether or not there's a reasonable possibility of some value there," I told him. "It would be impossible to put a dollar value on what we've found so far, but there are so many occurrences of favorable conditions on that land that I can say that there's a hell of a lot of money down there." "That's what I wanted to hear," I told him. "It gives me the ammunition I need. Keep at it. We'll stay in touch." We dropped him back at his pickup. - - - - - When our counter offer of $85 was announced, there was a slight flurry of activity. Quite a few shares were tendered, but still nowhere near enough. Within days, Edgar's group came back at $90 per share. This surprised me. I had kind of expected them to try for a knockout, $100 at least. We waited a week, then offered $100 per share. There was no quick response from Edgar this time. A few days after the hundred-dollar offer was announced, I got the call I had been expecting and dreading. Mike Burdette was cheerful as hell. "I think you've got it," he said. "It would really surprise me if Edgar is a big enough fool to go any higher." We talked a bit more, then he did as expected. "How about coming up here in the next few days and we do a little horse trading," he suggested. "I can be there in the morning," I told him. Might as well get it over with. That night, Eric was more attuned to my mood than he had been in several weeks. "Want to talk about it?" he asked. "Not really," I told him. "I have some unpleasant business to take care of tomorrow, and I just want to get it over with." He snuggled up and with the right poking and prodding got my mind completely away from everything - but him! - - - - - I went prepared. Even had a briefcase which was unusual for me. Mike was effusive in his greeting, and I settled in front of his huge desk. "Where's your partner?" he asked. "Oh, he's tied up with Lundborg Rush, our software company," I told him. "I didn't know you were in the software business," he said. "Something new?" He was dallying. "We started it last year. We produce all of Micron's software now, and have picked up a few other fair sized accounts. It's growing." He changed the subject. "I guess congratulations are in order. Looks like you bought yourself a Railroad." "It's not a done deal yet," I told him. "We're getting close, but it isn't over yet." "I'm pretty sure it is. If they go any higher, Edgar's 'fast buck' partners couldn't make their money and run. Have you decided what you're going to do with the railroad itself?" Here it comes, I thought to myself. "We'll probably just hang on to it for a while, then, after we've restructured everything, sell it off." "I can save you a lot of trouble," he offered. "I'll take it off your hands as soon as you take over. I'll trade you my CLP stock for it, and throw in my shares of the Development Company. That'd be about seven hundred million you wouldn't have to shell out, and I'd assume the debt they have, too." "Adds up to over a billion," I said. "Tempting." "Helluva deal for you," he said, trying not to be too eager. "I don't think so, Mike. Not interested." "Why not?" "I know what the Railroad's worth," I said simply. "You won't even consider it?" He was becoming desperate. "No, I'm afraid not." He thought a minute. "That may cause me to reconsider selling out to you," he said. "I don't think you'd do that," I said. "That Option Agreement I gave you has an escape clause." "I know, Mike, but I don't think you're going to use it," I told him quietly, reaching into my briefcase. I took out the six loan agreements and put them on his desk. He glanced at them, then up at me, then leafed through all of them. The small pile of paper showed that six loans totaling eighty million dollars had been granted to Mike Burdette using Railroad owned property as collateral. It was pure fraud and the implications were enormous. "I'm going to give you an 'out', Mike," I told him softly. He just stared at me. "When I get control of the Company and you get paid for your stock, you're going to pay off those loans, and that will be the end of it. You'll end up with over a half billion dollars - and, your reputation." "How many people know about this?" he asked. "Enough," I told him. "Don't get any ideas." He folded. It wasn't a pretty sight. "I have a new Option Agreement here that I want signed and notarized," I continued. "How do I know you'll keep your end of the bargain?" "You'll just have to take my word on it. I don't think you'd want it in writing, and I think you'd have a hard time enforcing anything that was written, anyway." - - - - - That night, Eric announced that he and Warren were leaving for New York the following morning to work out details of the new software rollout with Micron. I wasn't particularly pleased with the timing. Here we were, about to close our biggest purchase ever, and he was running off. Although he hadn't taken a very active part in the deal, he was still very much involved. I was hurt more than anything else. They left, and I tried not to think about it, digging into work to keep my mind occupied. That took care of the daytime hours, nights were another story. It had been several months since Eric had gone to New York alone. Coming home to an empty house was bad enough, but knowing he wouldn't be there at all was really difficult. The kids weren't home either. They had their own lives, and I couldn't expect them to babysit me. I tried not to dwell on him, thinking about the fun we'd have with all the the upcoming challenges - developing the lands we would soon own and maybe getting into the mining business, something entirely new. This worked for a few nights, then I could no longer hold off thinking about Eric. I had to admit that I was really pretty pissed at him for abandoning me at a time like this. We were in this thing together. Or were we? In the very beginning, his enthusiasm had matched mine. CLP was an opportunity of a lifetime, we had agreed. From that point on, in retrospect, his interest had waned. He'd avoided Henry's presentation, and since our "family meeting", hadn't shown much interest at all. He'd been there, in San Francisco, but more as a spectator than a participant. Since then, he'd pretty much distanced himself from the whole thing, devoting all of his time and energy to Lundborg Rush. How had this slipped by me? Was I so obsessed with this project that I was ignoring him, or even worse, taking him for granted? On the surface, everything between us had seemed to be going along fine. We made love on a regular basis, missing a night here and there, but that wasn't anything new. Our busy lives just seemed to flow along. There HAD been some subtle changes, I realized. The "oneness" that we'd developed, thinking and acting alike unconsciously wasn't there anymore. We'd drifted in different directions, and I didn't understand why. We talked on the phone every day as we always had when one of us was out of town, but I realized that it was now only one call a day, and that I did most of the talking. He'd been gone more than a week when the bomb dropped. Warren called me. "Is Eric over there?" he asked. "I thought you guys were still in New York," I answered, puzzled. "Maybe Eric is, but I got home a week ago," he told me. "Guess he forgot to tell me," I said, trying to make light of the situation. "I'll have him call you." I called the penthouse. No answer. Next, I called flight operations and told them to get a plane ready, I was on my way. I called the penthouse again and left a message on the machine that I was on my way. My mind was racing. Questions, questions, questions. Soon after we reached cruising altitude and leveled off, Jason came back from the cockpit. He took a seat opposite me. "You OK, boss?" he asked. "I honestly don't know," I told him. "Is Eric OK?" "That I don't know, either." "If you feel like talking, you know where to find me," he said. "I'll have a car waiting for you." He stood and then bent over to put his arm around me and gave me a squeeze. It was the longest goddam flight I'd ever been on. Painful, too, I had time to think. The first thing to cross my mind was that Eric had found somebody else. An image of the guy with the "eyes" crossed my mind. No, I reasoned, that wasn't it. Eric wasn't capable of deception. Or was he? My insecurities mounted. What else could it be? Was I doing the wrong thing by running to New York? The thought of walking into the penthouse and finding him with someone else made me physically ill. I made a mad dash for the head and barely made it before puking my guts out. Exhausted, drained, with tears streaming, I got back to my seat. The tears didn't stop. How could this be happening? What had I done wrong? Was I inadequate? In what way? The unanswered questions were driving me crazy. In my mind, it was all over. I'd lost him. How would I live without him, the man who was my whole life? The tears were now for me. Then fear set in. What would I find when I got there? Should I go? Could I face the rejection that I'd convinced myself that I'd almost certainly be faced with? I had to do it. I had to know. Jason had been checking on me periodically, just saying "hello", not asking questions, not prying, but the hug he gave me every time let me know he cared. This time, he announced that we were about a half hour away. "Do you want me to go with you?" he asked softly. "No, but thanks," I told him. "This is something that I have to do by myself." "We'll be at the Airport Hilton. Call me if you need anything, and I do mean anything." - - - - - I used my key card on the elevator, and again at the door. It was dark inside when I opened it. I called out his name, quietly, cautiously, at first, then louder when I didn't get a response. Still no response, so I went in. Nobody in the living room, the bedroom door was closed so I knocked first. No response, and it too was empty. I checked the den. There he was, sitting on the sofa staring out the window, totally disheveled with a half empty bottle of Scotch on the coffee table in front of him along with several empties. He looked over at me, barely able to focus. "I've lost you," he slurred. His eyes slowly closed and he slowly slid over on his side. I walked over to him. He had passed out. Now, I was totally confused. He looked like hell. His hair was matted down, his clothes looked like they hadn't been changed in days, and he reeked of booze. His face was gaunt, his eyes puffy, and while I looked at him, a tear rolled down his cheek. I lost it. Tears welled up uncontrollably. I knelt beside him, putting my arms around him as best I could, and kissed his forehead. I held him for a few minutes, tears streaming down my face. There was nothing I could do or say until he came out of it. I stood and looked at him. There was a blanket next to him which I pulled over him, and I slipped a pillow under his head. I looked around the room. More empty bottles had rolled under the coffeetable. He had obviously been here for several days. What should I do? I had to do something. I went into the bedroom and took off my coat and tie, then back to the den. I wanted to lie down on the couch with him and just hold him. Love him, let him know how much I loved him. That might not be a good idea, I decided. I'd be there for him when he woke up. I took an armload of empty bottles to the kitchen. After dumping them, I looked around. There was a partially eaten pizza sitting on the counter. It'd been there for a while because it was all moldy. There were also two cases of Scotch sitting there. One unopened, the other almost empty. I checked the refrigerator. Totally empty. I got another load of bottles, including the half empty one and took them out. He'd need food, I decided, so went down to the lobby to see the Concierge. When I asked the young lady manning the desk for directions to the nearest market, she looked at me as if I'd lost my mind. "I can have anything you want delivered in a matter of minutes, Mr. Rush," she told me. "I also have a list of restaurants that will deliver almost as fast. Just call down your order and I'll take care of everything." She gave me a card, and I returned upstairs. I certainly had no appetite, but Eric needed to eat something. I's wait until he surfaced. I sat in a chair across from him looking out the window, waiting and thinking. I heard him move and looked over. He was staring at me, his eyes blazing. "What the fuck are you doing here?" he yelled, furious. "I love you, Eric," I said softly. "I need you." "No you don't," he spat out. "All you care about is the almighty fucking dollar." I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "You can't believe that," I said. "You're fucking obsessed," he spat out, quietly sobbing. I rose to go over to him. "Stay the fuck away," he screamed. "What'd you do with my booze, asshole? I need a drink." "Please don't," I pleaded. He tried to rise but fell back, too weak to get up. "I NEED a drink, or don't you understand?" he groaned. "I'll get you one," I said. "You call that a drink?" he said when I handed him a half full glass which he tossed down like it was nothing. He was shaking like a leaf. "I did get you the one thing you're interested in. The stock you need is over there on the desk. Call it my good-bye present," he said, his voice full of derision. "How can you say that?" I asked. "You know I love you." "You love money more, and I can't compete." "That's bullshit and you know it." "I'm not going to be your 'boy-toy' waiting around for a little attention between the big deals you're pulling off. I need a helluva lot more than just the crumbs." He was sobbing again. "Is that the way you see it? I thought you were in it with me." "You shut me out. I wasn't qualified to handle a Public deal, and you just shut me out. I'm not good enough for you any more." I realized, at that point, that I wasn't the only one with feelings of inadequacy. In a way, he was right. We had brought in outsiders, but I had thought that he agreed with that decision. "I thought we were in agreement on that," I told him. "We needed help and we got it. I thought you were OK with that." "I wanted to help, but there wasn't any place for me. You've got it, now," he said pointing toward the desk. "Go ahead and spend the next ten years developing it. You'll be so busy you won't even notice I'm gone." "Eric," I said, looking him straight in the eye, "I can't live without you. I'll drop the whole thing if that'll make you happy." "Don't talk like a fool. I know you better than that." "What can I do, then?" "Include me," he begged. "Don't shove me off somewhere like Lundborg Rush. I want to be with you." "Oh my God, did you think that's what I was doing?" "That's what it seemed like, to me." "Why didn't you say something?" "I thought you wanted me out of the way," he sobbed. "You're so wrong," I said as I sat beside him, taking him in my arms. "How could we have misunderstood each other like that?" He seemed so frail in my arms. He'd lost a lot of weight. I wanted to hold him, protect him, and make him happy for the rest of our lives. We talked and talked, trying to understand how we had so terribly misread each other. He had been miserable and I had been oblivious, totally insensitive to what was happening. Silences were comfortable again, his head on my shoulder. "Are you up for something to eat?" I asked him. "I need to, but nothing sounds good." I suggested a few things, and we finally agreed on soup for him, and something else for me. "What I really need is a shower and some sleep," he admitted. "A nice bed would be kind of nice, too. As mad as I was at you, I couldn't sleep in there without you." After we'd eaten, I helped him to the shower. He was weak as a kitten and I had to hold him steady while we both lathered up. We slept like babies, wrapped in each other's arms. Our first real fight was over. - - - - - I'd totally forgotten about the stock he'd mentioned until he brought it up over breakfast. "Better let them know you've got solid control," he told me. "Put an end to this insane poker game." "Do you really have them?" I asked. "1,200,000 shares. Offers all signed legal and proper," he beamed. "That puts US, and I do mean us, over the top with room to spare. How in hell did you do it?" "I'm afraid I snooped into your stockholder database," he admitted. "I saw Sarah's name, and quite a few other New Yorkers at the head of the list, the ones with fairly large holdings. I got in touch with Sarah. She didn't know anything about it, said her mail on those matters went to her Attorney. "Of course, she agreed to sell her shares, and when I mentioned a few other names, she knew them and got them to go along. I picked up the paperwork from her when I got here, but I was still so damned mad at you, I wasn't ready to give them to you then." "Are you sure you still want me to go through with it?" I asked him. "Hell yes! Just promise me you won't spend all your time on it, and that you'll let me help." "Deal," I said. "Before we go any further, there are a few other things that you need to know about." "Such as?" "There are a few things I've done that nobody knows about. Remember my mentioning that the Railroad owned a lot of land?" "Yeah, you mentioned it." "I did a little preliminary checking, and it's possible that that land is worth more than everything else. Ready to go into the mining business?" "Oh shit! Do I get a mule and a pickaxe?" he chuckled. "Whatever you want. Might even throw in a cowboy hat," I told him. "There's more, but we'll go over that later." When we got back to the penthouse, he wouldn't let up until I called Peabody. I also called Annie to give her the news. She'd see that everyone was informed. It was a beautiful day, sunshine but brisk. We took a walk through Central Park. A solid week of drinking had taken its toll on Eric, and we stopped to sit and talk whenever we found an empty bench. We both had some secrets that needed to be shared. I told him about the clandestine operation Annie and I had set up and what we'd learned. First about the land, then about Burdette's games. "What made you think that he was up to something?" he asked. "It took a while to sink in," I explained. "Something about his comment about buying the Railroad from us made me wonder, then when I went back to his option agreement and saw the escape clause, I knew he was up to something." "But you didn't find out about the loans until later. What would you've done if you hadn't had that?" "Let him have the railroad, I guess." "Damn, you ARE a poker player! If he had thrown in with Edgar and those loans came out, I don't think Edgar would have let him off like you did." "No doubt about that," I said. "It was to our advantage to let him off. Why ruin the guy? It would have tied things up in court for years." "He'll hate you anyway," Eric said. "Yes, but he'll do it with a smile," I laughed. Eric told me about their meetings with Micron. There would be a lot of changes taking place, most as a result of suggestions Eric had made. "They're going to save a lot of money, and it'll be easier for us. I wasn't too happy about being there, but I sure have learned a lot about what makes Lundborg Rush work," he told me. "How's Warren working out?" I asked. "He's doing great. He's a quick study and has the background. I'm pretty sure he's going to take the company places we never dreamed of." On our next stop, I told Eric about my trips to Phoenix and John Bussey. He got a laugh out of all the secrecy. "What do you think we'll do with it?" he wanted to know. "I haven't got a clue," I told him. "I know even less about mining than I do about 'Developing'. First, though, we're going to have to find out if we've got anything. That's going to take some time." "It might be interesting to get out there and see what's going on," he said. "You know I'm a 'Nature Boy' at heart." Before heading back to the penthouse, we discussed going home to the West Coast. "I feel like such an ass," he told me. "Don't, you're not the only one to blame. I get my share, too." We decided to spend one more day in New York. Eric wanted to have dinner with Sarah so we could both properly thank her for what she'd done for us. Eric was more familiar with the concierge's service and ordered our dinner. I watched him while he called. The weight he'd lost really showed. "Hope you ordered lots," I told him. "We need to put some meat back on your bones." "I don't think all the 'meat', as you so crudely put it, is gone," he said, laughing and rubbing his crotch suggestively. "At least I don't think so. Haven't had any reason to check lately." "That's something I definitely want to check out later," I leered back. He was intact, and harder than I'd ever felt him get. I had barely slipped the head into my mouth when he came. Violently and copiously. So much, in fact, that I couldn't begin to swallow fast enough. "See what you do to me," he said as he kissed me. "Do you really think I could ever give that up?" "I sincerely hope not, but that sure wasn't much fun for me. I demand seconds!" "You'll get 'em." I wasn't quite as fast out of the gate, but it sure didn't take long. "Seconds" consisted of having his cock deeply inserted in my butt for the rest of the night, or at least, a major portion of it. We were joined for hours, and when we finally did allow ourselves to orgasm, it was sweet, together and shared by both of us. - - - - - We were major news in the morning paper. The Times' business section had a large article with my 20 year old picture and a graduation picture of Eric. The way the article described how we'd outbid the "Raiders", sounded like we were the guys in white hats riding to the rescue. Then, it went on to speculate "why" we had bought it. "Could it possibly be to get at CLP Development and unlock all that undeveloped land?" Short biographies of both of us followed, ending with "Wonder what this pair will try next?" This was the kind of publicity I could live with. Nothing personal. "Christ," Eric bitched. "If they were going to steal one of my graduation pictures, they could at least have gotten a good one." "It's not the best one, but you still look gorgeous." "You're just saying that so I'll let you get in my pants," he teased. We talked about how we were going to arrange things once we got back to the West coast. I wanted him close to me, and he wanted a separate office so he wouldn't have to put up with the constant chaos that surrounded me. Somehow, we would find him a space on the 30th floor. Then, we planned our attack for the following week. "I think we'd better add another section to those new offices we're building," I suggested. "I was just thinking the same thing! We're back in sync, thank God." We thought business discussion was over for the day. Sarah had other ideas, however. Eric had made arrangements to take her to Chef Maurice's hotel where we were given the royal treatment. When we were seated, Sarah sighed, "Here I am again with the two most eligible, not to mention handsome and rich, men in the country. All my friends are dying to meet you, and if you'd stay around town long enough, we could fatten you up with huge dinner parties and bore you to tears." "You make it sound sooooo inviting," Eric chuckled. "Give me a chance, my dear, and I'll prove it," she cooed, then abruptly changed the subject. "I guess congratulations are in order, hear you boys bought yourselves a Railroad. Now, what in God's name are you going to do with it?" Eric enthusiastically jumped in. I smiled from ear to ear. This is what I'd hoped for. "Originally, we weren't really interested in the Railroad itself, we had our eye on a company they control, CLP Development. We thought the real value was there because the Development Company owns a huge amount of undeveloped land in prime areas." "Then what happened?" she asked. "Dave had a hunch and did some digging. Seems the Railroad owns a lot of land too. Not good for development, but it very well may have minerals on it worth even more than the Development Company's land." "Sounds to me like you boys have a lot of work ahead of you," she said. "We delegate!" Eric told her, laughing. "Sarah," I told her seriously, "We wouldn't have been able to do this without your help, and I want you to know how grateful we both are. Thank you." "You're both welcome," she said. "It's just some more money that I'll have to get busy and give away." "I don't know how much you travel," I said, "but you're never going to fly in a commercial airliner again. We have a couple of small jets now, and are getting another in a couple of months. From now on, they're at your disposal whenever you want to go anyplace." This was an idea that had just popped into my head. Obviously, I hadn't had a chance to mention it to Eric, but he jumped right in. "No terminals to deal with, and you can go whenever YOU want to go. No schedules," he told her. "The ones we have now seat six, and the new one will handle twelve, so take your friends." "I'll accept, but on one condition," she said. "That is, if you two will come to my houseparty in France this year." "We'll be there," I assured her. "By the way, our planes are long-range and can go anywhere in the world." At that moment, we were interrupted by a Chef serving our first course. "Don't we get to see a menu?" Sarah asked. "Not when you're with us," Eric told her. "You won't be disappointed." When Chef Maurice took his bow, we introduced Sarah as our "best friend in New York". After she heaped lavish praise on him, almost to the point of embarassment, he stood between Eric and me with a hand on either of our shoulders. "Mrs. Thornton," he told her, "any friend of these two is a friend of mine." When we got to the airport, Jason looked both of us over carefully, then walked over and gave me a hug. He turned and gave Eric a playful jab in the shoulder. On board, waiting to take off, Eric turned to me. "Those guys really love you," he said. "I don't mind. I do too." - - - - - 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 and also let me know if you would like to be included on my "alert" mailing list for new postings.