Here's chapter 7. I hope you enjoy it.

I hold the copyright to this fictional work, it may not be reproduced in any medium without my express permission. As this story contains erotic situations between men, anyone not an adult in his country shouldn't read it.

I have two other stories running on Nifty concurrently with this one: Taylor Mountain in the Scifi folder and Illusions in the Beginnings folder. If you like this story, I recommend you check my other 2 stories out. If you like good storytelling with your erotica, my anthology LOVERS WHO STAY WITH YOU has recently been released by Starbooks. Please use Nifty's link to A Different Light bookstore when you buy it -- you help Nifty when you do so.

The only way I can know that you're reading this story or the others is if you write and tell me. The only way I can know if this or any of my stories are good is if you tell me. Write me at vichowel@aol.com.

Dave MacMillan

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CHAPTER SEVEN

I woke to a pounding sound that reverberated around and through me as if I was in the deepest cavern. Crawling out of that warm, peaceful place where Ned held me and we cuddled forever, I couldn't get rid of the idea of large metal knockers hitting against solid oak doors, sounds I'd heard in every horror movie I'd ever seen. I opened my eyes and saw that it was daylight.

Ned still held me and even snuggled closer in his sleep. But, then, the boy could sleep through a hurricane.

I managed to escape his arms and pushed out of the bed. Another round of pounding started before my feet could hit the floor. Sighing, I trudged across the room to the door.

I was opening the door before I realized it was cold in the room. Then, I remembered that I was naked.

I jumped behind the door as I continued to pull it open. And peered out from behind it into the gloomy hallway.

Valentin nodded curtly to me, his face blank.

"What's up?" I asked, about as civilly as any cold, naked boy who'd just been woke up at the crack of dawn could.

Valentin didn't come closer. He stayed in the corridor. His face remained blank. "There is Junger -- a young man -- downstairs. I have put him in entertainment room. You will come to see what he wants, yes?" he said. There was no question to it the way he said it.

There was no way anybody was looking for Ned or me in DC. "The Prince?" I asked.

"Der Fürst is not available, Rick Varnadore. The others also. You must come."

"What am I supposed to do with him?" I groaned. "I don't anything about the Prince's business."

"Get dressed, Rick Varnadore," Valentin said. "I take you to him."

I glanced back at the bed, hoping against hope that Ned would be awake and take the lead in this. The bastard had pulled the comforter over his head and was happily sawing logs. I wondered if I might ought to consider becoming a permanent top in our relationship -- at least, for a week or two. It'd only be a pay-back.

I shrugged and trotted back to the bed and started pulling on my clothes from last night.

|Learn what he wants, Rick, and hold him off on any kind of decision until tomorrow night,| a voice very obviously inside my head told me. I realized that the words weren't re-organizing in my head so I could understand them and figured the voice probably belonged to Tom.

I shoved my feet into my sneakers and stood up, leaving Ned softly snoring under the comforter. I started for the door. And wondered why von Muribor or his buddies couldn't meet their guest.

Right! I told myself. Step right up, Rick Varnadore, and give it your all for Castle von Muribor. Even though -- no! Especially because -- you don't know what you're doing.

"Bring coffee," I told Valentin once we down the stairs and heading for the living room behind the stairs in the entry hall.

I was awake enough to wonder how anybody had gotten past the wrought-iron fence if he hadn't been invited to come over. The fence had looked pretty solid to me the couple of times I'd seen it -- set in maybe four feet of concrete and maybe four inches between pretty thick looking posts. And, if somebody had managed to climb over it, he'd have met the Prince's friendly giant.

I stepped into the living room. And stopped when I saw the guy standing with his back to the television.

The guy was hot. Not perfect like the Prince and his crew -- just hot. My dick twitched before I could remind it of Ned. Straight dark hair -- nearly raven black and shoulder-length -- piercing blue eyes, an angled face with an incongruous pug nose, and my height. If Ned and I wore size 30 jeans, this guy had to come in at size 26. His chest quickly spread out from his waist, like a heavy-duty swimmer's. Like I said: hot. And he was very obviously studying me.

Thank God Ned was still in bed! It'd have been pretty embarrassing otherwise.

"I'm Rick Varnadore," I said, pulling myself back together and starting across the room to him.

He smiled, his eyes twinkling. Sexy.

"I'm Rock Hard," he answered.

My gaze dropped to the front of his pants. Without a bit of help from me. Shit!

He laughed. A deep, masculine laugh. It was hard as hell to pull my gaze up to his face. Double shit!

"That's the name Jody and Johan thought I ought to use when I'm making skin flicks," he said. "My real name's Doug Yorston."

"It's nice to meet you, Doug," I said, sticking my hand out.

He intercepted it with his, and his hand engulfed mine. Like an idiot, I remembered that thing about big hands meaning big dicks. I felt my face start to burn.

Shit to the tenth power! I definitely had to get my head out of the gutter.

I yanked my hand from his.

He snickered. "Are you one of the other new faces with great bodies they're going to use to open America up for their porn?" he asked, taking a slow, very complete visual inventory of me.

I felt hot enough to melt. I heard chuckling but knew it was inside my head. It felt like it belonged with the voice that had sent me downstairs.

|Don't be such a slut, Rick,| the voice I figured to be Tom's said. |This one's a whore. You aren't.|

That comment made me just angry enough that I could feel my backbone again.

I smiled at Doug, and it wasn't my come-hither one I used on Ned. It was my bemused one I used in classrooms to make instructors think I was really listening to them.

"No, I'm not into the porn angle, Doug."

His eyes widened and he inadvertently glanced down to the pile of videos Ned and I had left there yesterday.

I flushed again. "We -- my lover and I -- did some vids for Global," I told him, acknowledging the stack of vids and the probability that he'd seen my picture on one of the dust covers. "But that was only in Europe. We're now involved in an entirely different part of the company since then." I forced a smile to my lips but made sure it didn't reach the rest of my face. "That's why I was asked to meet you this morning, as part of Global management."

Okay! So, I could be more than a little catty ... This Doug Yorston had been playing with me like some cat playing with a mouse, though. I just figured it was turn in the driver's seat.

He didn't look like a mouse caught between my paws, though. He was beaming.

"Great!" he cried. "So, this Global Entertainment is like that bunch at Bel Ami back before that preacher tried to take over the country..."

I stared at him, not knowing what he was talking about. I remembered something about the FBI busting up some coup attempt back in 2006 -- the president had been assassinated and the vice president committed suicide. But that was five years ago, ancient history.

"You don't know what I'm talking about, do you?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"Bel Ami developed some really hot pornstars out of Europe for their skin flicks and let them learn to do more than just fuck and suck. When Ashcroft..."

"Who's Ashcroft?" I asked.

"The Attorney General under Bush -- a real fascist or the dumbest asshole to ever get elected."

"So, what did he do?"

"He and the Department of Justice came down hard on the porn industry. Bel Ami had to move to Europe. Falcon was closed. Colt started putting clothes on their models and had them flexing their muscles instead of having sex."

"Your point being?"

"From your experiences with Global, it looks as if they'll let me move beyond just sticking my ten inches in my screen partner's ass."

Ten inches! Two inches more than Ned had! I wondered how that would feel...

I forced my mind away from that, fast. But not fast enough to keep Tom from snorting derisively inside my head.

|Fuck you!| I told him.

|Stick with Ned,| he chuckled. |He's coming to like it better and better every time you two get it on.|

Damn! Was he now reading Ned's mind as well as my own.

"How do you know all this stuff?" I asked Doug, very consciously turning my mind away from the guy who'd somehow gotten into my head.

"I'm junior at American University across town, majoring in political science..." He arched a brow at me. "And minoring in drama."

"Sounds like something a gay boy would up here in the north," I said.

"I'm not gay, Rick."

"And you've signed on to do porn flicks?"

He shrugged. "Why not? I like sex. I like good-looking people ... And I have no problem at all feeding my cock to the guys." He grinned. "You're a good-looking guy -- do you bottom?"

I gave him the fish-eye. There was no way I was going to be interested in doing anything with him. Absolutely not.

I caught movement in the front of his jeans out of the corner of my eye.

Jesus!

"So, Jody talked to you..." I said, yanking my attention back from where it was being drawn. "Have you had a screen test yet?"

"Yeah. A buddy in my political science class was interested in making extra money, so we fucked for the camera. It was his first time."

"Have you heard back then? Did they decide they wanted you?"

His leer just crept across his face real slow. "Oh, yeah! They wanted me. Tom called me the next afternoon."

God, what a stuck-up asshole!

I remembered he packed ten inches then. Maybe he had the right to be.

It took me a moment to pull my thoughts back together. "It sounds like you're good to go then," I finally said. "So, what brought you over this morning?"

He shrugged. "Mainly, I thought I'd talk to Tom about whatever possibilities for promotion there are with Global, give him some of my ideas. But, mostly, my buddy's curious when we would start filming for our first movie -- so am I." His brow arched again and he grinned. "It is the end of the semester and money a little tight."

|Find out how he knew to come to this house,| Tom's voice in my head told me.

I did.

"Jody showed me the house the first time we talked. I was at the Desperado on Penn and he was there with his partner."

|I'm going to kill that little bitch!| Tom's voice growled through my head.

"I don't know about schedules, Doug ... You said Tom had your phone number?"

He nodded.

"He'll be back tonight. I can have him call you tonight."

He grinned again. "Or you could, Rick. I could show you around DC so you'd have a real good time."

"I think scheduling should come from Tom," I told him.

"I'd better scoot then -- things to do and places to go." He glanced down at the stack of vids and scooped one up. "I'd better take one of these along to see what Global's focus is -- they won't mind, will they?"

I didn't know if any of the bosses minded, but I sure did. I was pretty sure I didn't want Doug Yorston to see me naked and getting fucked by anyone.

"It'd help me to be a better model if I knew what they wanted before I stripped," he said, his voice breaking into my thoughts.

I didn't know what von Muribor or the others had in mind for all the vids they'd brought. I suspected they wouldn't mind if this guy took one along; and I didn't hear Tom telling me any different. I forced myself to shrug.

I watched him pocket the vid in his parka and escorted him down to the gate.

Valentin was waiting for me as I came back in, a tray with a coffee urn, cups, and sugar in his hands. Real good timing.

I took the tray from him and headed up the stairs, fully intending to have coffee with Ned and then do lots of other things with him -- even if he did only have eight inches.

I reached the room and stared at the closed door. I idly wondered how Valentin could hold a tray, open the door, and not spill a drop. Of course, he was a giant and had hands to match. With those hands, he could hold a tray. My cheeks turned crimson when the thought popped into my head that those hands probably meant he had something else to match his size.

Jesus! What was wrong with me, anyway? Never, not once since I let Ned convince me to let him put his dick in my butt, had I looked at another guy and thought about -- things. Now, I was doing it with a giant old enough to be my Dad, right after I'd done it with a straight boy who'd happily piledrive ten inches into my butt.

I set the coffee tray on the floor and looked along the corridor in both directions. Nobody -- no thing moved. I sensed five presences nearby, though.

|Okay, assholes!| I thought, concentrating real hard. |Stop playing with my head. I'm not a slut and I'm not about to be one.|

I wasn't real sure how much I believed that I'd been picking up thoughts from von Muribor and his crew; but, if telepathy was possible, then some playing with a guy's head to get him to think about certain things was possible, too.

I felt a couple of faint chuckles inside my head. As I opened the door to the bedroom and picked up the tray, I was a whole lot closer to believing in telepathy.

It didn't scare me, though. Prince Karl had said I was to be treated like him and the others. It was a safe bet that also meant the jokester playing with my brain would be allowed to have me spreading my legs for somebody not Ned. At least, it was as safe a bet that somebody wasn't going to have walk out the window and fall to the ground.

|Rest easy, Rick,| the voice I knew was von Muribor's told me. |You're safe and you'll only do with your body what you want to do. I promise you that, upon my honor.|

The really, really strange thing was that I believed that voice inside my head. I just knew he was telling me the truth and the others would live up to his promise just as much as he did.

I could see where that was going a real long way for this south Georgia boy who'd never believed any of that extrasensory stuff before.

I sat at the en-suite table, drank coffee, and watched Ned sleep. And wished I was still asleep because that way I'd have never met Doug Yorston who'd gotten me so horny.

Yeah! If I could let myself believe in telepathy, I could explain most of the attraction I'd felt downstairs. If I didn't believe in it, I'd just lusted big time and that made me feel real dirty. It didn't take a rocket scientist to see which was going to be the easiest path for me to hoe.

So, okay, I was becoming pretty sure that extrasensory stuff existed. Hearing somebody else's thoughts I'd buy into, even carrying on a conversation between minds. I wasn't sure, though, that I was willing to go so far as accepting that somebody else could actually push all the buttons in my head to get me hot and heavy.

Was at least part of my wanting Doug Yorston my own reaction to him? Without any help from somebody else?

I sure hoped I hadn't been turned on by a stuck-up straight boy who condescended to fuck me -- even if he did have ten inches.

I had Ned. Had had him for a year and a half as a lover. I didn't need anybody else.

I was trying to forget about Doug's ten inches when a new thought struck me. It pulled me right in. I forgot everything else, including Doug Yorston.

If I was really hearing von Muribor's thoughts -- his and those of the rest of his group -- then what were they?

From the little I'd ever read about parapsychology, extrasensory perception was a hit-and-miss thing. Nobody actually communicated head-to-head.

But these guys seemed to do just that.

So, what were they?

They were just guys -- like Ned and me -- just a little older.

Come to think about it, though, nobody -- not even the top fashion models in the world -- were as flawlessly perfect as these five guys were.

I wasn't scared by where my thoughts were taking me. I was just getting more and more curious.

 I thought I heard a faint sigh at the far edges of my mind.