Date: Sun, 13 Jan 2002 12:29:22 -0800 (PST) From: Orrin Rush Subject: LIFEGUARD CHAPTER 52 Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction. If you are offended by graphic descriptions of homosexual acts, go somewhere else. Copyright c 2001 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 52 We weren't in a hurry. Neither of us wanted this to be "deliberate". We sat, his head on my shoulder, talking about nothing in particular, touching, fondling. The warmth of his body, the touch of his skin was arousing to me. Hell, just being with him never failed to get me going. An hour later, we folded down the couch. Sheets were already on the mattress, and Eric had come prepared with lube and towels. We undressed slowly, watching each other, then sank down on the bed. Eric scooted over onto his back, grinning at me. "You're first," he said, throwing his long legs up. I pulled them down and crawled on top of him, kissing him, then working my way downward, not missing any of his hot spots along the way. I rolled off and took his cock into my mouth, running hy hand under him, stroking. "That's wonderful," he groaned, "but I want to feel you inside me." I got the lube and loosened him with my fingers. His nod told me that he was ready. I settled between his splayed legs and worked my way in. Once fully inserted, I leaned forward for a kiss. He was anxious, I was lying still, but he was bucking upward, urging me to get busy. I stroked, he continued bucking, wanting every inch I could give him. A hard and fast rhythm developed with both of us moaning. My head was beside his and when I moved to lock my lips on his, his arms shot around me, holding me almost painfully tight. I felt his whole body tense and his warm cum flowing between us. The spasming of his internal muscles pulled me over the brink with him. I settled on top of him, feeling his dick still throbbing between us. When I regained my breath, I whispered to him. "We're not finished yet!" I sat up and pulled out slowly. Gathering his cum from our stomachs and chests, I lubed up his still hard dick. Pulling his legs together, I straddled him, holding his dick upright and sat down on it. I rose and fell on him, my eyes glued to his. His smile told me he was enjoying this as much as I was. I leaned back, and our sharp intakes of breath showed that we both were getting some new sensations. I rocked in this position, the rubbing against my prostate driving me to delirium. He helped, rising to meet my downward strokes. He scooped up the remaining cum and stroked me. I was close again. I lost control, my dick spurting in the air, my ass muscles clenching, begging him to join me. My orgasm was subsiding when his took over. Being conscious, for a change, I was able to thoroughly enjoy it, feeling his shots going into me clear to the core. I collapsed forward, holding him, basking in the afterglow. As soon as we could, we stumbled to the head and wiped each other down with warm damp towels. - - - - - Always the one to remember names, Eric reminded me that Dr. Naimann's partner was Lee. The two of them were just getting out of a cab as we pulled up. They'd been delayed by a snowstorm in Boston. "It feels so good to get warm again," Lee said, holding his quilted jacket under his arm. Their luggage got loaded, and we got ready to go again. We'd settled in a grouping of seats for easy conversation since the couch kind of isolated us. We'd only met Lee once, at our "Victory Party" in New York, and had been on strictly an Attorney-Client basis with Dr. Naimann, so I didn't know where to start. After takeoff, Lee was the first to speak. "This is the first time I've ever been on a private jet," he said. "I could get used to this real fast!" "With the fee Dr. Naimann's getting, he could afford one too," Eric kidded. "Gotta save up for my old age," Dr. Naimann shot back. "I'm Len, by the way, no more of this DR. crap, OK?" That broke the ice. These guys weren't stuffed shirts. Our Steward emerged from the crew quarters and asked if we'd like drinks before lunch. At first, Dr. Naimann politely refused, but Lee jumped on him. "We're on vacation for God's sake, loosen up!" We ended up having three drinks apiece and got to know each other a lot better in the process. After lunch the conversation got more personal. The usual questions "How'd you meet?" "How long have you been together?" were asked. Eric told our story. I liked his version better than mine anyway. When it was their turn, Len merely said that they'd been lovers for six years. Nosy me. "How'd you guys meet?" I asked innocently. I noticed them glance at each other. "We've known each other all our lives," Len said, "we're cousins." They glanced at me, then at Eric, watching our reactions. "So?" I said. "A lot of people have difficulty dealing with that," Lee said. "Incest is such a taboo subject that we rarely mention the family connection." "It doesn't bother me," Eric said. "I'm happy to see any two people get together that love each other. Hell, it's not like you're going to have idiot kids!" "We try," Len said, laughing. "Doesn't matter to us," I said, "relax! Out of curiosity, though, how is your family handling it?" "We're not 'out' to them. They think we live together for convenience. They live in the Midwest so we don't have to deal with the issue very often," Lee explained. After that, the conversation lightened up. We were all intent on doing as little as possible for the next six days, and all agreed that no business would be discussed. We landed in St. Thomas, took the water taxi to St. John, and were met by the hotel. On the way, Lee told us some interesting things about the Caneel Bay Resort. It was so exclusive that it didn't even advertise, and was the favorite getaway for the rich and famous. "Leave it to Dan!" I told Eric. It was almost dark when we were shown to our adjoining bungalows. We agreed to meet the other two for dinner after we unpacked and freshened up. The bellman who had handled our luggage was really friendly. Without innuendo, he told us that he'd be happy to help us out with any questions we had about the island or the resort. Eric wrote down his name and phone extension. It was warm and humid outside, but our room had the air conditioning running full force. It was freezing. We turned it off and opened the sliding glass doors. We came there for the warmth, not to get refrigerated. When I got out of the shower, Eric was sprawled on the bed with a bunch of brochures spread around him. "I'm learning how we're supposed to act around here," he said with a grin. "The dining room's open for dinner only, and we're 'requested' to wear long pants and no loud shirts. Coat and tie optional. "Breakfast is delivered to the room, and lunch is on the patio, wherever that is." During dinner, we learned that none of us were Scuba divers, but all had a little experience at snorkeling. Before making any firm plans, Eric wanted to read the brochures in the room and Dan's stuff. Len and Lee were banging on our door pretty early. It was decided that we'd meet at the beach and decide what to do from there. Both of them were really pale so they'd have to take the sun in very small doses or wear a ton of sunscreen. The sand was snow white and the water an unbelievable blue. I checked it out and it was warm as a bathtub. Len and Lee wanted to put off snorkeling until they had gotten a little sun, and Eric, my Nature Boy, was anxious to hike some of the nature trails. I was game for anything. The hotel got us a rental car and gave us directions to the starting point of the trails. Driving was on the left, British style, and Eric volunteered to drive. There was very little traffic, thankfully, because he tended to veer to the right. "This just isn't NATURAL!" he moaned. Walking was easy and the sub-tropical vegetation was spectacular. We wandered more than hiked, holding hands like the lovebirds we were. After dinner, Eric disappeared for a few minutes, coming back with a grin, and winked at me when he sat back down. The resort had a bar where Calypso and Reggae music was playing, so we wandered in. The music was loud, but not so loud that we couldn't talk. It was by no means full, but there were quite a few people seated around. Lee was evidently somewhat of a 'celebrity watcher' so was able to point out the big names present, most of whom I'd never heard of. One that I did recognize was a singing superstar and his male companion. Rumors had been flying for years that he was gay. It looked like they might be true. During the evening, they checked us out and we checked them out, the old "are they or aren't they?" routine. Sitting close together, with Eric's arm around me, it was pretty obvious that we "were". Len and Lee were a bit more discreet. I was quite surprised when they stopped by our table on their way out, introducing themselves, and superstar saying "We've got a boat chartered tomorrow to explore the Underwater Park and could use some company if you guys are interested." I looked around at our group. Heads were nodding, so I accepted for all of us. We'd meet in the lobby. The four of us turned in soon after. "Where'd you go after dinner?" I asked. "To make arrangements for tonight," Eric smirked. "What's up?" I asked. "We're gonna make love on the beach," he said, his eyes twinkling, "in the moonlight." "Just don't pack sand up my ass. It's scratchy!" I laughed. "No, but something else is going up there," he giggled. The beaches around the hotel were patrolled at night. For a reasonable tip to the bellman and the guard, we wouldn't be disturbed. We put on swimsuits and grabbed towels. The water felt wonderful. So warm, so soothing. We just floated around in waist deep water, touching, letting the soft waves wash over us. When we got out, it was so warm we didn't even dry off. Eric took one of the towels and dropped it right at the edge of the water, then took me in his arms. "I thought we'd let the waves wash over us," he said softly in my ear. We pulled down our suits and sank to our knees, the waves running up to lap at our legs. He had a bottle of lube in his hand. I leaned back, and before I knew it, was flat on my back, my knees up and he was inside me. Having him there always felt wonderful, but with the waves running up to us and occasionally over was mind boggling. The moon was bright which made the romantic setting complete. His lips were on mine, his strokes long and rhythmic, and the combination of everything had us both moaning in minutes. Neither one of us tried to hold out, the crashing climax came too soon. We lay side by side, the water sliding over us while we recovered. - - - - - The boat we went out on was pretty good sized, roomy and fully equipped. Eric and I had brought our own snorkeling gear and the boat's crew outfitted the others. Our host was genuinely friendly and asked us to call him Al, his "companion", Rick seemed to be more than just a pretty face and very nice body. Al himself wasn't hard to look at either. The water was so clear that you could see the coral formations below without being in the water, but we soon learned that the view was much better once you were in it. Al and Rick were eager, leading the pack. Eric and I followed with Len and Lee trailing behind us. We followed a "trail" marked out by the Park Service, with underwater signs identifying the various coral types. Brightly colored fish in huge schools swam right among us. We made a large circle, ending up back at the boat. I, for one, was ready for a little rest. Al and Rick were fun to be around. Very energetic, witty, funny, and were definitely not dummies. The boat took us to other areas of the park where the underwater formations and fish were completely different from those along the "trail". We made a whole day of it. Len and Lee were both exhausted and had gotten more than their share of sun. Al and Rick appeared to be ready for more. It was agreed that we'd all meet for a drink before dinner. "They're fun people," Eric observed. "A little different from the business types we're used to." "Lots of life," I agreed. The music hadn't started in the bar yet, so we all could talk easily. "We've finally figured out who you guys are," Al announced. "Len's the one who beat the shit out of the State of New Hampshire, Eric's the 'Wall Street Whiz", and Dave's the West Coast tycoon. You're the only remaining mystery, Lee." "I'm at M.I.T., working on the Space Program," Lee explained, news to me, too. "I sing for my dinner," Al said, "and Rick here runs a modeling agency." There. We were now neatly identified, categorized, put in pigeonholes and labeled. The only thing missing was "gay" in front of all our labels. This practice, so typically American, tickled me. "So, what are you going to do with all the money the good Doctor here won for you," Rick asked Eric and me. "We're giving it all away," Eric said. "We're setting up a Foundation for education," then went on to describe what we intended to do. This was news to Dr. Naimann, too, and he paid close attention. At the end of Eric's description, he surprised us all by adding "I'm hoping to get Len here involved, hopefully as a Trustee." Len just smiled at him. "I'll think about it," he said. "I'd like to help too," Al said. "We'll talk about it later." Our little group grew from four to six. We laughingly designated Eric "Social Director", and he took his new job seriously. We got a bigger rental car that'd hold all six of us and toured the island, looking at all the old sugar plantations and other history. We didn't just drive by, either, but stopped and thoroughly explored everything. We made shopping trips to Mongoose Junction and Wharfside Village on Cruz Bay, taking advantage of the duty-free shops. Eric and I collected a few local craft items as souvenirs but didn't do any serious buying. Sure, we were six gay men, spending a lot of time together, and there was a lot of gay humor, but the thing that I enjoyed was the total lack of sexual tension. Of course we checked each other out thoroughly, but it was obvious that we were happy, satisfied couples without any interest in extracurricular activities. Al, surprisingly, was really serious about getting involved with the Lifeguard project. "I don't know what I can do myself," he'd said one afternoon at the beach, "but I do know a lot of people in 'Show Biz' that I could introduce you to. Maybe original music for your presentations, help with choreography, stuff like that." "I'd wondered where we'd go for help like that," Eric said. "We want to look somewhat professional, grab the kids' interest and get our message through with a little humor." "I know the best writers in the business too," Al said. "They could take your concept and run with it." "You'll be hearing from me, count on it," Eric told him. Our six days were up far too soon. It had been a busy, active, week but relaxing. - - - - - We flew directly to New York, taking Len and Lee with us. They'd catch the shuttle to Boston from there. Jacques was our Steward and would be with us in New York to again take over our lives. The East Coast was having an early winter, and the change from the sunny Caribbean was a shock to our systems. I had never been to a formal Board Meeting other than those of our Railroad, so I didn't really know what to expect. Greg and Jerry welcomed me warmly and introduced me around. Besides the four Micron boys and me, there were seven outside Directors. Those were an eclectic group - big stockholders, an attorney, and C.E.O.'s of other "Fortune 100" companies. For the record, I was elected, then Jerry as Chairman, got right down to business. Finance was first. Earnings were flat, but at a high level, something to be expected after their recent rollout of a new generation of Software. No major growth spurts were expected over the next year or so. Next on the agenda was the "SPY Project", as they referred to Spence's stuff. "We don't have to tell Dave what THAT is," Jerry laughed. "He and Eric have been in on it from the beginning." It was obvious that everyone knew who Eric was, but some had quizzical looks on their faces, probably wondering what his connection to me was. Jerry noticed but didn't explain. Greg was in charge of the Operating System project, and brought the group up to date on progress. "We're in the process of moving the whole project to the West Coast," he told us. "We couldn't stay on schedule here, not enough room." He went on to detail what they were doing and how they expected to start beta testing within a year, releasing the new system in March of 2003, right on schedule. After his presentation, there was "housekeeping" to take care of - formal approval of actions taken by management. The whole meeting took just over two hours. "Relatively painless, wouldn't you say?" Greg commented on our way out. "Piece of cake," I laughed. - - - - - After discussing my experience at the Board Meeting, Eric told me what he'd learned from Sarah about Foundations. "Setting it up is mostly a legal matter. We can have an attorney handle that at home," he said. "It'll be structured very much like a Corporation, Officers, with a Board of Trustees instead of Directors. The Officers 'run' the Foundation, take care of the money and sift through all the requests for funds, but the real decision making is done by the Trustees. "Sarah suggests that we find a 'High Profile' type to be President, someone who's a good administrator as well as experienced in Public Relations. He doesn't have to be a fundraiser because we won't be looking for outside money. She even had some suggestions on where to find somebody like this. "There is one restriction on who the Trustees can be, at least three of them have to be outside the 'Family' who establishes the Foundation." "Who do you have in mind?" I asked. "You, me, Annie and Tina, for sure," he said, "and we'll need at least three others. Len Naimann would be good, but I haven't come up with another two. Do you have any suggestions?" "How about Sarah?" "I already talked to her about it," he said. "Since this'll be headquartered on the West Coast, and quite a little of her time would be required, she doesn't feel that she could do the job justice. She'll be happy to be on the Board, but only with the understanding that she won't be too active." "I'd go for that," I told him. "Just having her name associated with it would lend a lot of credibility. As to the others, let's think about it." - - - - - The following evening was Brad's "opening", and no trip to New York was complete without dinner at Chef Maurice's, so I called Annie at Sarah's and invited her and Hans to join us for dinner then go on to the gallery. We received the usual treatment, no menus and service directly from the kitchen. Annie enthusiastically told us about all the exciting things they had been doing, Hans joining in. I sat back and watched them with pride. My beautiful daughter was, without doubt, very much in love with this handsome, dashing young man. Both of them literally glowed, so I knew it was mutual. When Chef Maurice came out to take his bow, he was somewhat subdued, not his usual boisterous self. After we showered him with well deserved compliments, he made an announcement. "This is the last time I'll be cooking for you here," he said. "My contract wasn't renewed. This is my last week here." "Do you have any plans?" I asked. "Not yet," he answered. "Come see me tomorrow," I said, "at the penthouse." - - - - - We were fashionably late to arrive at the Gallery. The few "openings" I'd been to had been sparsely attended. This was a lot different. It was crowded. With Sarah as Sponsor, everybody turned out. That lady carried enormous clout! "See what you started?" I kidded Eric. We were handed catalogs, fairly thick, and a quick glance showed that no expense had been spared in printing them. The prices, in small print almost blew my socks off, ranging from $100,000 upward! In the first showroom, the paintings were beautifully displayed, some walls dark to bring the "drama" of Brad's work into focus, others light to show the whimsy. I was also amazed to see a lot of "sold" signs. In the second, larger, room, Sarah was holding court, her arm around Brad's waist. When she saw us, she motioned us over. "Here's the fellow who 'discovered' Brad," she announced to the crowd, giving Eric a big hug, and me a wink. Poor Eric was surprised at all this attention, and tried to smile through the redness that crept across his face. He congratulated Brad on his obvious success, and I stepped up to congratulate him too. Sarah went on to tell her audience how Eric had spotted one of Brad's paintings among a "sea of dreadful cats". I stepped back from the crowd to where Hans and Annie were standing. "I didn't know Eric was an Art connoisseur," Hans said. "They both are," Annie said. "You should see their penthouse here, and Dad's collection at home. Even the office is full." "I'd love to," Hans said. "Come visit us," I told him. "Most of Eric's Jacoby paintings are at the office, if I remember right, he has 26 of them." Hans whistled. "He's got a bloody fortune right there!" "Let me assure you, he sure as hell didn't pay THESE prices," I chuckled. When Eric was able to get loose, he and I walked the whole gallery, looking at each and every painting. "You know something?" he asked when we stopped to sip the champagne that had been handed to us, "I think I've got some of his best work. They're bolder, more expressive than most of these. Don't get me wrong, I think these are great, but he seems to have gotten a little timid." I wanted to hug him right there and plant a big wet one on his lips. I was so damned proud of him. Without any training, he was so damned perceptive. All I could do, under the circumstances, was to smile at him and agree. I'd take care of the other part later. We'd seen enough, so made our way back to Sarah to say good night. Brad pulled us aside to tell us how grateful he was for what we'd done for him. He couldn't believe that, as an unknown, his show had gotten this much attention, and that so many pieces had already sold. I believe the poor kid was in a daze. - - - - - We weren't ready to turn in yet, so we settled in the den. Jacques lit a fire in the fireplace and we kicked back and snuggled, watching the flames and looking out at the lights. "I was so damned proud of you tonight," I told him. "Why?" "The perceptive comment you made about Brad's work." "I don't know where it came from, it was just the way I felt," he said. I gave him the delayed hug and kiss. "You're sensitive and see things that few people do. Until you pointed it out, I didn't pick up on the subtle changes at all." "You're inflating my ego again," he giggled. "No, I'm just telling you the truth. It's those qualities that make me love you so much." "What're you going to do with Chef Maurice?" he asked, changing the subject. "Whatever it takes," I told him. "Maurice is a talent that can't be wasted." - - - - - When Jacques led him into the den, Maurice looked whipped. Here was one of the world's greatest chefs without a job. Every culinary honor imaginable had been bestowed on him, many of them several times, and wherever he went, his restaurant received the much coveted Michelin Four Stars almost automatically, a rare occurrence in the United States. He gave us both hugs then sat dejectedly. "What happened?" I asked. "It's a long story," he said, with hardly a trace of an accent. "Big Corporations," he continued, shaking his head sadly. "They want me to turn out cafeteria food under the guise of haute cuisine. I won't do it. Standardization so they can buy in bulk and save a few pennies. I won't do that either. "I've been fighting with the accountants since the day I started with that hotel. My labor cost is too high, my ingredients cost too much. It never stops, and when they demanded that I cut costs at the expense of quality, I allowed my contract to expire." "I'm sure you have many offers," I suggested. "A few," he said, "but with the ones I've gotten, it won't be any different. Same old battles to maintain quality." "Have you ever considered opening your own restaurant?" I asked. "I'd be broke in a month," he laughed. "I'm a cook, numbers are foreign to me. I can only work for someone else who knows the business part, and nobody will allow me to do things my way." "I would," I said. "Don't tease me, David," he said, chuckling, "You don't know anything about the restaurant business!" "I learn fast!" I told him. "Think about it. We have to go back to the West Coast tomorrow night, so let me know in the morning if you're interested and we can talk some more before we have to leave." "Is he really serious?" Maurice asked Eric. "If he isn't, I am," Eric told him very seriously. He went out shaking his head, but his spirits were definitely raised. "That was planned, wasn't it?" Eric stated, and it wasn't a question. "I've thought about it for a minute or two since last night," I admitted, chuckling. "I also know a helluva lot more about the restaurant business than either one of you think." "As usual, you're full of surprises," he grinned. "The classic formula," I pontificated, "is 25% for ingredients, 25% for labor, 25% for overhead and 25% profit. The secret is to balance all those and be able to have menu prices that are competetive in the market you're selling to. In most cases, it's price driven, and, you've gotta be competetive in your market. You work backward from the amount you feel you can charge, and in a lot of cases, ingredients are the first to suffer. "As I see it, with Maurice, it's possible to work from the other direction. You can determine all your costs, then set your prices accordingly. Price isn't important because he has no competition. Lecture over!" "Pop quiz later?" he asked, laughing. "I do see your point, though. Overhead in a hotel's gotta be high, and at the same time, they want to hold the line on prices. If Maurice were independent, he wouldn't have those constraints." "You're getting it," I kidded him. "Location isn't that important either. Maurice's name alone will bring his following just about anyplace. And, the people who follow him are the type that don't even look at the prices on the menu anyway." "THIS is one thing that I'd really like to be in on, if you'll let me," he said. "It'll make money, sure, but I'd just like to be able to say that I'm in the restaurant business." "We're partners," I told him sternly. "In everything!" We had barely finished our conversation when Maurice called to ask if he could come back over and talk some more. Eric told him to come right ahead. "I'm interested," Maurice told us. "Exactly what did you have in mind?" I repeated the theory that I'd just explained to Eric, adding "This would give you complete freedom to run the kitchen however you want, which is what I believe you're looking for." "Nobody could turn down an offer like that!" he said, jumping to his feet. "It will be the best restaurant in America! I will run the kitchen and supervise the service. Your people will do everything else, no?" "Yes, we'll handle everything," I told him, chuckling. "But, we're going to need your help!" We spent the rest of the afternoon and evening throwing ideas around. The only limitation we put on Maurice was use of our names. HE was the star, and we didn't want our names mentioned. "Do you have any idea what we've gotten ourselves into?" Eric chuckled. "Delegate!" I reminded him. "We should be in on a lot of the decisions in the beginning, but about all we have to do is pick out the location and find a good manager. You, of course, will do the interviewing." Before we left the next day, Eric had a realtor busy looking for locations. - - - - - On the ride home, Eric sat at one of the tables so he could work. I stretched out on the couch and watched him. I knew it bothered him, but I didn't have many opportunities to gaze at the love of my life. Such perfection. Someone I'd never, even in my wildest dreams, ever thought would be "mine". Unbelievably sexy, and intellectual too, the ultimate "Trophy" boyfriend. He'd look up from whatever he was doing and smile, then go back to work. He got up and came over to perch on the couch next to me, leaning over for a peck on the lips. "You're making it awfully hard for me to concentrate," he said. "That's my intention," I laughed. "What're you working on?" "I'm trying to prioritize, figure out what I have to do first to get things rolling." "What've you decided?" "First on the agenda will be looking for a President for the Foundation, then a Manager for the Restaurant. Then I can delegate!" he said, with that twinkle in his eye. "I've also got to outline what we want to do, first, with the Foundation, so I can let prospects know what's going to be required of them." "Can I help you?" I asked. "Not until I've narrowed it down, then you can help me decide." "Where are you going to look?" "Sarah gave me some leads, and I'm going to use the Headhunters I've used before for the President's job, and I'm going to talk to some of the Culinary Schools for a Manager'" he said. "It's important, I think, that both of them be 'take charge' types." "The President," he continued, thinking out loud, "doesn't necessarily have to be gay, but since our first project is pretty gay related, he's definitely going to have to be gay friendly." "So's the Manager," I added. "He'll be working with Maurice who definitely ain't straight." "I think I've got enough to keep me busy for a week or two," he giggled. - - - - - "Spence is coming over tonight," Eric told me. "Says he needs to talk to his 'Big Brother'." It'd been several months since I'd seen him, but I knew that he and Eric talked on the phone several times a week. He looked a lot different, no more baggy clothes, he was very "Preppy" these days, and he looked like he'd put on weight. Noticing me looking him over, he struck a pose. "You like?" he asked, "I got myself a personal trainer and I'm trying to build up a little." "It shows," I told him, "you're lookin good!" "Got a long way to go," he giggled. "I wanna look like my idol here," he said, putting his arm around Eric. "How's school?" I asked, changing the subject. "Goin' great," he said. "It's such a change from that podunk school where I was going. There're some real challenges here, and I really love it." "How's Jimmy?" Eric asked. "We split," Spence said, his expression changed abruptly. Now I knew why he wanted to talk to Eric. "Do you want me to let you guys talk alone?" I asked. "No, stay," Spence said. "Maybe you can help me see how I fucked up." "What was the problem?" Eric asked. "There were a lot of them, but mostly, it was money," Spence said. "I have a lot and he doesn't, and he resented it when I tried to help him. I'm afraid that's going to be a problem the rest of my life." "It doesn't have to be," Eric told him, "look at me." "Yeah sure, you've always had bucks," Spence shot back. "Not quite," Eric chuckled and winked at me. "Let me tell you a little story. When I met Dave, I was making about four hundred bucks a week as a lifeguard. The only thing I owned was a Jeep, and that wasn't even paid for. At that time, I knew that Dave had a few bucks, not that he was one of the world's richest men, and when I found that out, I freaked. "I didn't want him to think that I was after his money, that I really loved HIM, so I refused to accept anything from him. I called it 'being independent'. I was afraid that if I accepted anything from him, he'd try to control me. "It didn't take me long to realize that it was going to take more than fairly good looks to hang onto him, and I needed to finish my education, as a start, to be able to be his partner. You wouldn't believe the battles we had over that." "Damn, you were stubborn!" I commented. "It took a snotty remark by my brother to make me see that Dave merely wanted to help me, that there weren't any strings attached," he continued. "The way Dave handled it was what made all the difference." "What'd he do?" Spence asked. "Most importantly, he trusted me," Eric said. "He never tried to control or change me, and he gave me opportunities to accomplish things on my own. It took me a long time to see this, and to accept the fact that he really did respect me and value my opinions. I made a few suggestions that worked out, and he paid me for the savings that resulted, something it took a long time for me to believe that I'd actually earned. "I was pretty immature and had to do a lot of 'growing up' since we've been together, and I think I'm a lot better man for it." "It's hard to believe that you ever didn't have your shit together," Spence said in awe. "I've changed a lot, believe me," Eric said, "and it's all happened because Dave has been patient and allowed me to grow at my own pace." "I really appreciate your telling me this," Spence said. "I can see a lot of mistakes I made, and it looks like I'm going to have to do some 'growing up' myself." "Do you want Jimmy back?" Eric asked. "Not really," Spence admitted. "I think I was more in love with the idea of being in love than actually in love with him. There were other problems too. For example, his dick is just too damned big!" When all three of us stopped laughing, I warned him "I hope you never told Jimmy that! The male ego is the most fragile thing on this planet!" "I didn't," Spence chuckled. "One more thing, then the lecture's over," Eric said. "It's not a good idea to talk about money. Sure, Dave and I do now, but we're in business together. Remember, when you do, people who have more than you do, don't care how much you have and people who have less, even lovers, resent it when you flaunt what you have." "I've learned a lot tonight," Spence said. "I still have a lot more to learn, and now I know where to come." - - - - - I got a call from one of my cousins, who very tersely and rudely told me that Aunt Marie had died, and hung up before I could say a word. Of all my family, on either Mom's or Dad's side, there were only two people who I liked and respected, my Mother's older brother John and his wife Marie. Out of dozens and dozens of relatives, they were the only ones who had accepted me after my sexual orientation had become known. I'd been careful not to force either of them into supporting me with the rest of the family, so, had pretty much lost touch with them over the last twenty or so years. I immediately called Uncle John, who now had to be in his 90's. He was devastated. They'd been married for 71 years. I'm not very good at knowing what to say under these circumstances, so we talked about Aunt Marie. When the conversation ran out of steam, he asked me "Are you coming to the funeral?" "Of course, I'll be there," I told him. "Bring your boyfriend, David, I'd like to meet him." "I will, Uncle John." I told Eric about what'd happened, and that I was going up to Sacramento to the funeral. "I hate to ask this," I told him, "but I'd like you to go with me." "Of course I'll go," he answered. "My Uncle would like to meet you," I told him. "The rest of the family, who'll no doubt be there, won't be any fun at all. Are you ready for some heavy-duty rejection?" "I can handle it if you can." "I doubt that anybody will have the balls to say anything, but they'll sure let us know that we're not welcome," I said. "I'm just sorry that you'll have to put up with the sneers and dirty looks." "Not a problem," he said. "I'm proud of who I am, and even prouder to be at your side." "We'll get through it," I assured him, giving him a big hug. - - - - - We flew up the day before the funeral. In the first place, I hate funerals, and the added bonus of having to see a bunch of self-righteous relatives didn't make it any more pleasant. We got a rental and drove to Uncle John's house. The old Victorian, looking as good as the day it'd been built over a century ago, had cars parked everywhere. That meant that a lot of the family were already there. Oh God, this was going to be an ordeal, and I hated putting Eric through it too. We rang the doorbell. It was answered by one of my spinster cousins, about my age, but looking 30 years older. "What are YOU doing here?" she sneered, crossing her arms across her bulging bosom. We walked right past her, ignoring her entirely. I knew my way around and headed for the parlor. When we stepped through the double doors, the room became instantly silent. "David!" my Uncle cried, jumping out of his chair and bounding over to us. "Hi, Unk," I said, using the name I'd always used, as he took my hand for a very vigorous shake. "This must be Eric," he said, extending his hand. The room was still totally silent as he slipped between us, an arm around each of us, and propelled us in the back out into the entry but not before I got a look at all the unfriendly faces in the parlor. We were guided down a hallway to his office. He seated himself behind a big wooden desk and, indicating the leather chairs in front of it, said simply "sit." "I know how some of the members of this family feel about you," he continued, "and I don't think it's necessary for you to put up with them. It's been 20 years and I want to talk!" "From what I read, you've been pretty busy boys," he said, his eyes twinkling. "Sure glad to see the old Railroad's back in the family. Your Great-Grandfather was one of the builders, or did you know that?" "No, I didn't," I admitted. "Yessir, he sure was. Lost all his stock in a whorehouse poker game, though." "We're putting a little money into it," I told him, "Eric's even working on building a 'bullet train' down on the southern end." "Are there any of those in this country yet?" he asked Eric. "One recently opened between Washington D.C. and New York," Eric told him. "Ours'll be the second one." "I've heard about the ones in Japan and Europe. Love to ride on one of those things. Haven't been on a train in about 60 years, last time was on my way home on furlough during World War II. How's your family?" he asked me in an abrupt switch. "My two girls live with us, but I don't think for much longer," I told him. "Tina, the youngest, is getting married next spring, and Annie, the oldest seems to be getting pretty serious about a German guy." We chatted a while longer. Uncle John complaining about how rough farming was getting to be, and how he was thinking about selling out since he couldn't make any money. Yeah sure, I thought, he's been crying poor ever since I've know him - all the way to the bank! Before we ran out of anything to say, I mentioned that we'd better get going, had to check into our hotel and all. "One of yours?" he asked with a wink. "Yes, the Regency," I told him. All three of us rose. He escorted us out. In the entry, I heard one of my ancient Aunts say "Well I never! Walk in here like they own the place!" "Ignore 'em," Uncle John said, "I do. You've given them something to talk about for the next couple of years," he laughed. "I've been watching you in the papers," he continued. "Sounds like you're doing pretty well. Also looks like you've found yourself a mighty fine...what's the right word?" "Partner," I supplied. "Mighty fine," he repeated, patting Eric on the shoulder. Then, turning serious, "You'll be sitting with us in the mourners section tomorrow. Eric, you're as much a part of this family as any of the rest of us." Eric smiled his acceptance, shaking his hand and nodding. Once in our car, I asked Eric what he thought. "I've never seen such hostility," he said, "but I love your Uncle," he chuckled. "He's a nice old guy," I agreed. "Just think, I'll probably be just like him in another 40 years! That is, if you don't wear me out long before that," I said, patting his crotch. "Nothing would make me happier," he said. "My God, he acts like he could run the marathon, and he's got a mind like a steel trap!" - - - - - The funeral was at the Methodist Church. I wasn't too eager to sit with the mourners, but had enough respect for Uncle John to follow his wishes. He had plenty of other things on his mind right about now. We arrived early and walked around the side of the church to the mourner's entrance. We weren't the only ones who were early, a small crowd was standing around talking and smoking. "Want to go on in?" I asked Eric. He glanced at his watch. "Nah, let's stay out here for a few minutes." We stood off by ourselves, watching my relatives look us over, trying to be discreet in their inspection but not succeeding. After a few minutes, my cousin Elton separated from the crowd and walked over. "Hello David," he said rather sheepishly, holding out his hand. I shook it and introduced Eric. "Why don't you give us a chance?" he asked, looking me straight in the eye. "We're not ALL assholes." "I don't go where I'm not wanted," I told him. "There's a lot of us who don't feel that way," he said apologetically. "You're a member of this family and we'd like to see you once in a while. About the only time we all get together is at weddings and funerals," he giggled. While he was talking, another cousin and his wife walked up, both with friendly smiles. We went through the greeting and introduction process again. Before I knew it, a large number of the crowd had come over. Being the cynic that I am, I wondered if it was sincere interest or curiosity. Uncle John arrived and went straight inside, we all followed. The ceremony was upbeat, celebrating Aunt Marie's life, not dismal and sad, but uplifting and even humorous at times. We joined the cortege to the cemetary. "Some of them aren't so bad," Eric commented. "I wonder if it's true or just curiosity," I said, voicing my earlier thoughts. "It just might be a breakthrough," he said. - - - - - To be continued. 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 All messages answered.