Date: Wed, 20 Mar 2002 07:18:07 +0000 (GMT) From: Xing How Subject: Ultraviolet Chapter 1 Disclaimer: If you are precluded from reading gay erotic fiction; please, exit this site ASAP. ~~Ultraviolet~~ Chapter One August~ I was finishing my lunch in the atrium at 'Bender's', I looked up from the IHT crossword '33 across, campaign tactic' I was working on, when Trey walked in. He can't have seen me I thought to myself. I was sitting in the wavy green light, especially bright in Dallas during the late summer, from the UVA/UVBprotex coated windows. I helped design this atrium and it was the first in the city declared 'sun safe'. It is quite lovely. Larger overlapping panes of square glass echoing the neoBauhaus exterior of the restaurant with large groupings of plants in the corners and a sculptural fountain, designed by my friend Kat, in the center. Enough seating for 40 and standing room for 70 and no more, as Trey and I found out at our 5th anniversary party a month ago. Those windows tend to distort everything refracting the light though. Better that than the skincancer you can get sitting out unprotected for less than half an hour. Even though over the counter canSlough sloughing cream is only around 45$; I'd rather not spend an hour sloughing and then another 24 red as a lobster to get cancer free. Anyway . . . I'll just finish my coffee and walk over there. I mean he isn't ignoring me. I just saw him 6 hours ago at breakfast and I know he hadn't left there mad. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Mmmm, something smells good" Trey mumbled, his mint-y fresh mouth nuzzling the back of my neck as I watched Victor gathering branches in the orchard. "Yeah, your breakfast." I said smiling. His ritual two Oggs and nearBacon were already on our Spode 'Dandelion' plates and his wheat toast was almost ready to come out of the salamander. "Not just that." God he is so sexy in his 'I am going to kick-ass' Cerruti suit. While my hair is still in it's nighttime braid and I am wearing the kimono he stole from the little onsen we stayed at on our trip to Osaka last year. His toast in one hand and a bowl of fruit in the other I sat down to eat breakfast with my partner of five years. He seemed kind of quiet as he at his breakfast. "Busy day, today?" I asked, spearing a diamond of star-fruit onto my Tiffany 'Shell' breakfast fork. He was just finishing his last piece of toast. "Well, the partners are all giddy over the OPEC bankruptcy we're handling" He said, placing his napkin beside his plate and leaning back. "And I've got to explain to them that they needn't count their Saudi Riyals until we're done" He sighed. "You are so cute when you're feeling superior" I said taking our dishes to the sink for Orphy to wash. "Feeling superior am I?" He growled, grabbing me around my waist and placing me on his lap. "I also said 'so cute'" I purred, running my hand along his strong flank and looking into his eyes. "Mmmmm" His voice dropping an octave as he pushed my kimono apart; kissing and nipping at my collarbone. "Ooh a little morning fellatio for my 'soon to be partner' partner" I giggled. I slid between his legs, purposefully fumbling with his zipper, feeling his hardness hot beneath the wool of his suit. I hungrily pulled him free of his garments and looked at my charge. Big, prominent veins, pink and dusky gold . . .mmmmmmmmm. I looked up at his foxy, WASP-y face: blond, blue-eyed, Harvard MBA and numbers after his name and was struck by how much I cared for this man. Pushing irrelevancies out of my mind when he opened his eyes and looked at me looking at him. His face bright, he said, "love you, Zar" I answered him by running my moist lips along his shaft breathing out, heating and cooling his manhood savouring the smell of sandalwood soap and. .him. I swallowed him reverentially and slowly. His fullness was stretching my lips and nudging at my accommodating throat. Deeper and deeper I dove. Faster and slower and then finally, faster and faster as I felt him give into my mouth and my desire. A groan of satisfaction from him as he filled my mouth with his taste; his essence coating me inside like a potion. "No fuss, no muss" I said as he pulled me up to his embrace. His tongue showing me how tenderly he loved me. "Grr. Now I am going to be late" He said mostly joking. I knew his 'almost late' meant not 30 minutes early so I wasn't worried as he hurried out the door and back, returning for a kiss and his forgotten vintage Louis Vuitton briefcase. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- I smiled as I finished my coffee and slid The International Herald-Tribune into my red Hermes Tote. I figured a peck on the cheek as I left wouldn't interrupt his lunch as I headed towards the bar. I smiled at Van wiping out a glass as I turned toward the bank of booths facing the bar. My heart sank and the coffee sloshed around in my stomach as I headed towards the booth Trey was sitting at. I could see a gentleman I had never seen gazing at my partner with romantic intensity. "Hi darlin'" I sighed, not too very suspicious, as I bent down and kissed Trey's cheek on the corner of his mouth. With surprise changing to dawning horror before my eyes Trey stammered, "I thought you had the Crispin Charity Lunch & Launch today?" No 'hi'? No 'Honey, what a surprise'? No 'what are you doin' here?'? My heart hardened somehow and an icy smile played across my lips. "No baby, that's tomorrow" I turned to Trey's lunch date waiting for an introduction. Trey's upper-class training came to him in moments of crisis turning him into some sort of society robot. It never came. "Tell him, tell him, Treeeeey!!" A hiss then a whine came from the, I was sure now, interloper. He was handsome in a washed out WASP-y kind of way, none of the power and Aryan beauty that Trey possessed, but handsome. I waited for the robot but he still didn't come.Trey looked at this man with sympathy. At Him! With Sympathy! Inside I was crumbling, seething, not sure. I felt almost like I was a bystander looking on with that terrible feeling you get in the pit of your stomach watching something terrible but unable to stop being a voyeur. I knew I couldn't hear whatever they wanted to tell me. I knew I had to go. I had to get out of there. I could hear thunder or the ocean in my ears as I somehow found my voice. "Actually, I would rather not. If you don't mind. I have had quite enough melodrama for one afternoon. Dear. . " I said, turning to Trey, vaguely aware that I had become the robot. "I will be staying at The Highlands tonight. Why don't you give me a call in the morning." I kissed Trey high on the cheekbone this time and turned to walk out of the restaurant. Then I saw Van. Van had been there when we had met in this very restaurant five years ago and was now looking at me with a look of regret in his eyes. He was still holding the same glass he had been wiping when I had arrived at Trey's table ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Trey and I met a little over five years ago. I had just returned to the Republic of Texas after finishing my degree in Australasia and I was now one of the eight heads of PR at a small but reputable public relations firm. I loved it. The free gifts, invites and parties were wonderful. I was attending the grand opening of 'Bender's'. I had planned the party and handled all of the press coverage, which had been excellent except for a few articles in the working class papers deriding the prices. Mostly just an excuse to remind everyone that, with the failure of the middle class, the 'have nots' yearly income differed from the 'haves' by more than four million Republic dollars. They also reminded us the difference in income pre-2015 was less than $250 old-US currency. I was standing at the Bar grabbing a Cosmo and chatting with Van, the owner, who was so happy at the seeming success of my work that he looked like he wanted to kiss me. Although, I doubt his wife would have appreciated that. I turned to do a little networking and walked right into someone's chest. Someones chest that felt like I had walked into a wall. I looked up and was confronted with Trey. He was gorgeous in an Armani Tux, the cut doing serious justice to his height, proportions and masculinity. I felt silly in my uber-stylish Dolce and Gabbana capri-panted (it was spring) and hyper-ruffled. "Careful, Cranberry juice is like 70$ a bottle" He said smiling. I stammered something and he laughed. "I would have expected our head of PR to be a bit more eloquent" "Mm. Nebedcednazzer Tanaka Sky Carter-Vons, At your service. Sorry for my clumsiness." I said trying to make up for my previous gaffe. "John-Robert Trent Parker-Smyth the third, a pleasure to finally get to talk with you." He had placed his huge hand over mine and was giving it a vigorous Texas shake. I remembered him now. The second time I was at 'RestSa', the parent company of 'Bender's', he had sat in on a meeting making everyone nervous until he left, never saying as word. "Well our parents sure gave us a mouthful, didn't they Mr. Parker-Smyth" I said putting on my best 'let's network' grin. "Rather more than a mouthful" He whispered. He had released my hand and with his hand on my shoulder and his breath, boozy and hot, in my ear. "If I may be so bold" I was hard as a rock and although I was scared he would laugh and walk away . . . "Be as bold as you like . . . sir" I said quietly. "There is a bar I know where you can still smoke. . .It's quiet and . . . " He trailed off. I couldn't believe it. Was this man-god asking me to split with him? "Well, would you like to get out of here?" "Let's go," I said, throwing caution and career to the winds as Van smiled behind us, still smiling as we left. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Now I'm sitting and crying in the parking garage waiting for my Audi roadster to finish charging. I really should trade her in, this years models take half the time to charge, and I could get one in brown. I don't know what to do or where to go. My tears dry quickly on face since the freon-free air-conditioning is doing it's best to battle the August heat which has greenhoused up to 49 degrees. I told Trey I was staying at The Highlands but call The Raoul instead. Grabbing my fabric-mobile from where it is velcroed to the inside of my Paul Smith jacket I dial as I pull out of the parking garage. I get Toms. Toms is one of my best friends and not part of the 'Zar & Trey' circle. He never liked Trey, thought I was to good for him. "Toms? It's Zar" "Hey, Zar. That guy from the bar last weekend hasn't called me. Do you think I should get my nose done?" "No sweetie, Your beautiful, that vato is just intimidated by you, honey." "ya think?" "Yes, I do. Now, Toms listen to me. I need a suite for about a week, y'all have any rooms?" "Yeah, of course we do. . .but. . .wh-. . .uh-. . .What's going on?" "Well, I was having lunch at 'Bender's' and in walks Trey" I explain I tell him what happened at the restaurant. Toms is the perfect listener. he groans and swears and gasps in all the right places and then "Now I don't want to sound like I am saying I told you so, sweetie. . .but what did I tell you. . . " Toms is heading into full auto-rant. "That man is nothing more than a throwback to patriachy. . .He doesn't want you to have a career. You chair that stupid charity of his mother's and take care of his house while he goes out and starts dating some 12 year old that probably wasn't alive when Texas became a Republic!!!" I cut Toms off mid-rant. "Toms, I wasn't born when Texas became a Republic. . .Anyway, the . . . the. . .guy. . .he looked to be about my age." I whisper horrified. That somehow is even scarier. "Well you don't even look 28" Toms is placating me, the dear. "Thanks darlin' . . .So I'd like a suite on the 5th floor. . .and if Trey calls. . . I'm not excepting messages until the day after tomorrow. "OK, hon. what time will I see you then?" "I guess in two or three hours. OK?" "Yeah, Drive carefully" Toms murmurs. I stick the phone back on my coat and find myself turning onto Mockingbird lane. After finger and voice prints, not to mention a retinal scan and showing my HoloID to a security gaurd who is encased in 6 centimeters of bullet and plastique resistant glass, I finish my turn into my neighborhood. The Live Oaks made a tunnel of light as pulled into my driveway. The trees gave way to long stretches of lawn with a glimpse of my Jardin Vert (I only plant green flowers in it) as our (is there still an 'our'?) house came into view. My first house. . .and with a partner too. I remember the first time Trey and I saw it four years ago. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- After six months of dating, Trey had asked me to marry him during my birthday party, at 'Bender's' of course. I accepted immediately. That very weekend with an intaglioed emerald ring from 2nd century Rome on my finger we went house hunting. He said if we were going to be partners he didn't want to live apart anymore.Besides, he said he hated driving cross town and getting strip-searched everytime he wanted to see me. I agreed, although the security gaurds at Trey's condo was much better looking than the amputee war veteran at mine. The realtor we had engaged was a really nice Dallas native. She showed us a few homes and seeing our displeasure with the modern construction that had plauged Dallas, all through the noughts and the teens, then finally settling down in the 2020s, we came upon this Italianette that had been built way-way back in 1902. She told us that the house was sturdy and roomy not to mention within our price-range, but needed quite a bit of work. We drove down a allee of Live Oak trees and came upon a mellowed yellow villa. The window frames were native Texas limestone and looked stunning with the golden stucco and dark green shutters (some missing). "The house hasn't been lived in for 15 years." She said as we walked inside through huge and intricately carved double doors. Inside we were appalled. The previous owner had apparently been a reincarnation of Liberace and/or a chronic LXD (LSD, Ecstasy and an extra dose of heroin) user. Zebra shag carpeting covered the entire first floor. "It's cheetah upstairs" the realtor sighed. But she pulled the rugs up and showed us gorgeous Terrazzo flooring . . . and we saw lovely parquet under the hideous carpet upstairs. The house was built like a fort. Strong walls and a slate roof protected it during the sepratist riots of '03 and '04. In the center of the house was a large courtyard that looked like it had seen better days. . . obviously none of the plants had been genetically altered to be UVA/UVB resistant. Although the realtor assured us that the trees and large shrubs had been faithfully sprayed with MiRacleBlock (monthly) by her company for the past decade or so. I was in love. In love with Trey. In love with this house. In love with the idea of Trey and I living here together. I plotted out flower and vegetable as well as a couple ornamental gardens as I wandered around outside. I had left Trey and the realtor when they started going into full lawyer-auto-twitter. I was in the small orchard looking at the ten fruit trees trying to figure out which one bore what, when Trey walked up to me smiling. He took me in his arms and pulled my hair over both our heads; like he did when he wanted to be 'with just and only you and me'. "Okay, I don't have a big case until April so I can help you out with the house for a couple of months and then it's up to you." He smiled. "We're going to buy it!" I effused "Well, I'm going to buy it and you are going to make it a home for us" "Lovely, I can't wait. I know just the person to help us out with the garden . . . .But, I work too."I said, reality butting its ugly nose in. "Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about that." Trey murmured as he pulled back. I brushed my honey colored hair behind my shoulders as my eyebrow cocked automatically. "Uh-oh, the eyebrow!" chortled Trey. "I am serious, Trey. I work. I like my job." I said. "I know you do, babe. But I just want you to think about this. . . " ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- I parked the car in the garage next to the antique Range Rover (an internal-combustion engine!) and slowly walked up the patio steps into the kitchen. I can't believe I am here. Seven hours ago I felt so safe and content. Now I'm all at loose ends just standing in the doorway. Orphy, our housekeeper and my nanny when I was a kid, brought the moment rushing in like a Tsunami. "Afternoon, Mr. Zar. I have bread in the oven and dinner will be at seven tonight." "Mmmm. . . Orphy, you and Victor can have the rest of the night off. I'll see you in the morning, OK?" "In the morning then, Mr. Zar" Orphy confirms and walks out towards her apartment over the garage. She gives me a sad look over her shoulder as she goes. That look makes me want to cry more than anything . . . But, I walk upstairs and pull down my small Louis Vuitton suitcase. The red epi leather is shining in the light from the large windows facing my Green Gardin as I pack. I am not thinking but pulling clothes at random out of drawers and closets and fold them into my bag. Walking back through the kitchen I grab a '30 bordeaux and head back towards my car. Driving towards the Galleria after talking with my banker and opening a new account in my name, "Yes, just me. I don't want anyone else to have access at all." "No-one else, sir?" Jon has been our banker since the begining. I am not telling him anything, except "Allright Jon, I want to take half the money from all our joint accounts and put it in my new account. I can do that right?" I ask. "Of course, I will send all the paper work to. . . " He pauses . . . guessing the obvious "Right. . .send it to the Raoul, Jon. Thanks" "Yes, sir"and he is gone. In the parking garage at the Galleria I look at my manicured hands and my intaglio ring and feel like a vindictive housewife from those old Hollywood films. "Oh well. I deserve this. . .and so does he" I mutter entering the cool atmosphere of the mall, showing my holoID to the security gaurd manning the metal detector. I know I could buy just about anything in the world with the AM/TEX Gramma card that Trey gave my 'for Emergencies' but I settle for making about 45 sales people really really really happy. I did some serious damage. I think Cartier took the brunt of it. I had their largest shopping bag and those lovely red boxes were bouncing against my knees, through the bag as I headed for my car. Not all the carrier bags would fit in the trunk and so I kept the Tiffany, Cartier and Bang & Olufsen up front with me. I was barely out of my car at The Raoul when Toms runs up and crushes me in a hug. I am all but smothered in his armpit while he coos over my head. He sees all the carrier bags and simply says "Good. . . he had it coming." We scoop up the bags and head up to the fifth floor. At the door I tell Toms that I'd like to have breakfast with him tomorrow. I ignore the look on his face, hurt, concern and worry, and close the door. I walk into the bedroom and dump the bags on the bed. I can see the gigantic tub in the bathroom and figure 'Can't hurt.' I strip off my clothes just leaving them in a heap while the bathtub fills up. I assess myself waiting for the tub. My hair is my best feature, long and straight, it falls just between my shoulder blades. Grey eyes that are a little slanty and nicely tanned skin leave no doubt that I am multi-ethnic. Not fat at all, I am still as lithe and toned as I was in University. Smooth chest and a nice little bubble-butt. . . maybe my cock is too small? It is pretty uncut and only slightly darker than the rest of my body. Standing in front of the mirror has gotten me strangely aroused and my 6 inches rise pointing out and a little up. I wonder. . . Is it me. . .not the me outside but the me inside. I sigh ignoring my little friend and just climb into the bathtub. Sitting in there thinking over the last five years wave after wave of regret washes over me.My throat closes and I can feel that tingley burning sensation behind my eyes. I let them come. I cry and cry. I cry for myself and I cry for Trey. Most of all I cry for us. Authors note: This is my first story; please send comments or criticism to xeric75@yahoo.co.uk