Date: Mon, 8 Oct 2007 14:47:25 +1300 (NZDT)
From: Nick Cramer <antinous48@yahoo.co.nz>
Subject: Chris Trousdale my bodyguard, part 3

The 'Chris' in this story is based on Chris Trousdale as
he appears in pictures on his
Myspace page -- punkish, in scruffy jeans.  But the story
is purely fiction, and implies
nothing about the real Chris Trousdale, his habits or his
sexuality.

This is the third of four instalments.  Comments are
welcome -- to antinous48@yahoo.co.nz.  I'm sure there
must be other Nifty readers who are fans of the gorgeous
Chris!

CHAPTER 3. SATURDAY EVENING MAYHEM

Inside that forbidding door, I found myself in a dimly lit hallway. Chris was
nowhere to be seen. But I had no time to take in anything else. A strong hand
clamped a piece of cloth over my mouth and nose and a sickly smell engulfed
me. I lost consciousness.

When I awoke I found myself sitting on a hard metal chair in a large room,
harshly lit with strip lighting. There was dirty white paintwork on the walls
and a wooden floor covered with dust and stains. Groggily, I realized that there
were other people in the room too. Lounging against the left-hand wall were
the two thugs from earlier. One was in his late teens, thickset, wearing a
black leather jacket and blue jeans, with short hair brushed forward. Snubnosed
but goodlooking, he stared blankly into space with a sulky expression. The
other was taller, about thirty, wearing jeans and a tight white singlet, with
spiky dark hair. He glowered fiercely in my direction. But more intimidating
than his glare was his build: huge shoulders to match his height, a massive
chest and an imposing six-pack.

Sitting not far from these two, in a chair like mine, was the man in suit.
Noticing that I was awake, he began to speak in a prim drawl. 'Welcome, Mr
Rawlings. (Don't be surprised; I know your name from the passport you are
carrying.) On behalf of our organization I supervise Miguel and Cody here,
and you can call me 'Supervisor'. I am sorry we have had to detain you. But
we have no quarrel with you, and you will be released unharmed in due
course. Your friend Mr Christopher Bellocchio, on the other hand ...'

'Chris? Where is he?' I interrupted. I tried to stand up, but found that my
right wrist was handcuffed to the chair.

The supervisor waved his hand languidly. Then at last I saw, sitting directly
opposite me on a chair like mine, the young man that I had met just a day
earlier. His tousled head was erect, his expression proud and defiant, but he
was immobilized: his wrists and his ankles were securely taped to his chair.
When Chris saw me looking at him, he returned my gaze steadily, but his
expression did not change. A thought flashed through my mind: 'Bellocchio --
Italian for "beautiful eye" -- appropriate name!' Then I remembered our
quarrel. 'Chris, what ...' I began. But the supervisor interrupted me.

'Our organization has known Mr Bellocchio for some time. Unfortunately he
has not shown respect for us or cooperated with us. But this evening we are
giving him an opportunity to change his mind. Indeed, I am offering him
generous terms. If he passes certain tests of fighting skills that Cody and
Miguel will administer (as I am sure he will), then he will be welcomed as a
member of the organization under my supervision. Mr Bellocchio is well
aware of the advantages that will bring him in terms of respect within the local
community and also ... financial security and protection.'

The supervisor smirked at Chris. Chris said nothing. In Chris's narrowed eyes
and clenched jaw, his scorn for the supervisor was palpable. There was silence
for several seconds.

The supervisor shifted in his seat. He uncrossed and recrossed his legs. 'On
the other hand ... if Christopher remains uncooperative ... the consequences
for him will be unpleasant. Miguel and Cody will not test his fighting skills.
Rather, they will demonstrate on him their own. They will take their time about
it, however, so as that the lesson will sink in. They know how to make sure
that young Christopher remains fully conscious and ... receptive during this
process. And they will enjoy exercizing their skills on him. Christopher may
be recalcitrant now, but believe me, Mr Rawlings, he will ... come round to our
way of thinking in the end.'

The eyes of all four of us (me, the supervisor, Miguel and Cody) were fixed on
Chris. Would he cave in, plead for mercy? Chris looked proudly at each of us
in turn. Beads of sweat on his high forehead made it clear that he had heard
and understood fully what was in store for him -- but still he said nothing, and
still there was no change in his determined expression. I felt an uprush of
admiration, and I decided that, whatever Chris might think of me, I would
make this admiration plain.

'Mister supervisor! Your enforcers can ... can hurt Chris's body' (I hesitated
and swallowed), 'but they won't be able to make him submit!'

Chris looked across at me -- and this time he smiled. 'You're right, Nick.'
Then he glanced down at his muscular body and back up at me: 'But don't
worry. Like I said -- the wall is strong!' I was elated. Had Chris forgiven
me for my stupid question earlier? At the same time I realized how absurd
my elation was, given what Chris faced ...

The taller thug was now speaking for the first time, as he wandered over with
a knife to cut through the tape that was holding Chris down. 'Yeah, like the
boss said, we're gonna spin this out. So Cody and me will take you one at a
time. It'll be sorta like a tag team match. It's just that you're in a team of
one! My, I'm gonna enjoy this! But, Cody, you can start, while this punk
Bellocchio is still ... fresh. He ain't no wimp, so it'll be good practice for ya!'

Cody took off his leather jacket and tight blue singlet to reveal an impressive
torso, brawny arms and a thick bull-like neck. Over the solid mounds of his
pecs and his hard six-pac abs, his smooth skin was stretched tight. His close-
fitting jeans showed that his legs were just as muscular as his upper body. I
gulped. Even this younger thug would be a formidable adversary, let alone
the other!

Facing Cody, Chris rubbed his wrists to restore circulation. He eased his blue
military-style shirt off his shoulders. It fell round his feet. Miguel picked
it up and flung it into the corner. Then Chris pulled his T-shirt over his head
and tossed it aside.

Now at last Chris revealed what I had never seen before -- his
upper body unclothed. Immediately in comparison Cody's impressive torso
seemed ugly, even misshapen. Physically, Chris was a model of harmony.
>From the curve of his collar bones and his smoothly rounded shoulders,
through his muscular pecs and prominent nipples, down to the expanse of
firm flesh between his navel and the waistband of his low-slung jeans --
everything fitted, in perfect proportion. From his face and his body one
sensed in him a rare balance: hard but not cruel, strong yet gentle. I longed
to hug him again and caress that satiny skin ...

Chris gazed sternly at Cody. He pushed his floppy hair back off his forehead,
then let his arms dangle, gently shaking them loose in preparation for battle.
He stood poised, legs apart. His voice rang out, not loud but clear and
steady: 'I'm ready, Cody! Bring it on!'

Cody frowned. He had been staring at Chris hard, and he too seemed
impressed with what he saw. He charged at Chris -- but deftly Chris stepped
aside and somehow got Cody in a headlock. Cody found himself with his
head squeezed between Chris's left bicep and forearm, his snub nose
crushed against Chris's side just below his armpit. Cody's powerful left arm
made a wild upward grab and clutched a handful of Chris's hair -- but Chris
twisted and fell, taking Cody with him, so that his full weight landed on Cody's
chest. 'Oooff ...' I heard the air being expelled from Cody's lungs. Cody,
legs flailing, still had hold of Chris's hair -- but now Chris with his right hand
grabbed Cody's left wrist and slammed his forearm down vertically, so that
Cody's elbow hit the floor with a resounding thud. Cody yelled and let go of
Chris's hair. I could see that his left arm was temporarily useless.

The two of them were now close to the wall. Chris, facing the wall, leaped to
his feet while Cody, with his back to it, was still struggling to push himself
up with his one good arm. Before he could do so, Chris launched a flying kick
that landed on Cody's chin. Cody's head snapped back and, with a loud
crack, the back of his head hit the wall. Cody slumped, groaning. Only then
did I notice Miguel ...

'Look out behind you, Chris!' I yelled. Chris turned to face Miguel -- but too
late to avoid the rapid one-two as Miguel's huge fists rammed into his abs at
close range. 'OK, my turn now,' Miguel snarled. Chris staggered backward
and would have keeled over if his back had not slammed into the wall, giving
him a crucial split-second to regain control of his legs. He steadied himself
and leaned forward, his shoulders hunched, his fists clenched in a boxer's
defensive posture.

That defense was immediately put to the test. Miguel's huge fists pummeled
Chris while Chris, his back against the wall, ducked and weaved, his arms
absorbing the blows. His expression was defiant, but I could tell that Miguel
was hurting him. Then Miguel adopted a new tack. He brought his right knee
hard up into Chris's groin. Chris's hands instinctively flew to clutch the
source of this new agony.

Chris's eyes glazed and his breathing now came in loud
ragged gasps. His chest heaved and he pressed his head back against the
wall, turning it to his left, as if by not looking at his attacker he could make
him disappear. Miguel draw back his fist again, level with Chris's chin. I saw
the pain in Chris's creased face, looking straight towards me, his mouth open
and his hair plastered to his forehead. In the harsh bright light the sweat
glistening on the taut skin of Chris's neck and jaw, now so exposed and
defenceless ...

I only heard, not saw, what happened next. The blow landed. Chris's body
slithered down the wall, his knees buckling, toppling to his left. When I was
able to look again, Chris was stretched out on his front, his arms barely
holding his head and chest off the floor. Miguel loomed above him, staring
impassively down at Chris's shoulders. At any moment I expected those
shoulders to be crushed to the floor in another onslaught from Miguel. Then I
remembered with a chill the supervisor's words: 'They will take their time
about it ... they know how to make sure that young Christopher remains fully
conscious'! Sure enough, Miguel seemed in no hurry to end the fight. Chris
managed painfully to kneel upright, facing me. His arms dangled limp. Our
eyes met. Sadly, Chris gave a tiny shake of his head, as if to say: 'Sorry,
Nick-- the wall is strong, but not strong enough!'

Then Miguel spoke. 'OK, Cody, he was too tough for you before, but I've
softened him up! You reckon you can handle him now? Or you want me to
work him over some more? See, he ain't finished yet!' And indeed, as Miguel
finished speaking, Chris was on his feet again, leaning against the wall.
Though he was clearly in pain, his old defiance was returning. In my mind I
compared his body now with how it had looked a few minutes before. It was
sweaty, grimy, with red marks as tokens of the big thug's battering -- but these
scars of battle only made Chris look, if possible, even more magnificent!

Both Miguel and Chris were now looking at Cody. Cody had slunk out of the
way after Miguel took over the fight, and was now leaning against the wall, his
chunky arms folded. He glowered sulkily, stung by Miguel's contempt. There
was a pause. Then Chris spoke, clear and steady as before; 'What d'you
think, Cody? Miguel is some friend, huh? You like how he treats you? But I
respect you as a fighter, even if he doesn't! You'll be tough for me to beat,
especially after ... we were interrupted' (Chris grinned wryly), 'but I'm still
ready for ya! In a fair fight, let's see who wins!'

Cody smiled: 'You're on!' Then, glaring at Miguel: 'You keep outa this, ya
hear? I ain't gonna take any more crap from you!'

Cody advanced on Chris, but Chris had clearly decided that, in his weakened
state, attack was the best form of defence. He hurled himself towards Cody
and got his arms around him to administer a bear hug. Cody grunted and
frowned, taken by surprise. His continued grunts as they swayed together
showed that Chris's powerful arm muscles were having an effect. Chris was
clearly trying to get Cody off balance and dump him on the floor -- but the
stockily-built Cody managed to keep his thick legs firmly planted. Chris now
was frowning too, and the tendons of his neck stood out as he strained to
dominate the muscular young thug.

At first, Cody used his arms to try to loosen Chris's grip around his waist.
That failed. Then he planted both of them on Chris's chin and began to push his
head back. Chris frowned harder, though his grip on Cody remained firm. I
knew this wasn't a tactic that would be likely to work, unless Cody's arms were
particularly strong. The trouble was that Cody's arms were indeed particularly
strong. I could see Chris's face grow redder as his head was forced painfully
backward. The two young men's chests had been pressed close together --
but now it was as if they were being slowly peeled apart from the top down.
As they swayed and strained, sideways on to me, a gap of an inch, two
inches, three inches opened up between Cody's pecs and Chris's. A look of
triumph was dawning on Cody's coarsely handsome snubnosed face. I
looked at Chris's sinewy arms, straining to keep their two bodies together --
then at the rippling mounds of muscle in Cody's biceps and forearms,
straining to separate them.

At last it was as if a rope snapped. Chris's hands flew apart and he staggered
backward. Before he could collect himself, Cody had administered a karate
chop to Chris's chest, followed by a punch to Chris's abs. Chris's knees began
to give way and his arms flailed vainly. Cody had time to get round behind
Chris and, with a gleeful grin, follow up with a karate chop to his neck. Chris
toppled forward and lay flat, his legs splayed, his arms limp at his sides. He
lifted his head, blearily -- and found his eyes focussing on the supervisor's
polished shoes.

'Are you ready to join us now, Mr Bellocchio?' said the prim voice. 'If not, I
think it is Miguel's turn now to carry on with the demonstration.'

'Hey, no!' said Cody, 'Chris and I agreed to a fair fight, just me and him!'

'You heard what the boss said,' said Miguel, 'it's my turn!' And he pushed
Cody roughly in the chest.

I had a brainwave. 'Listen to me!' I shouted. 'You're wasting an opportunity!
I work for a bank in London. Your organization needs to do banking overseas,
huh? Well, I can ... I can help in many ways ... outside the normal channels.
That's if ... if you stop beating up Chris here, and leave him alone. You can
trust me because ... because Chris's wellbeing will depend on my doing what
your organization asks. You understand what I mean?'

I swallowed, amazed at what I had said. I had had a glimpse of a way to
protect Chris, but only a glimpse. Meanwhile, how would the supervisor
react? More important, how would Chris react?

'I see! Thank you, Mr Rawlings! Now I understand the nature of the
relationship between you and Mr Bellocchio!' The supervisor leered. 'But we
will need ... evidence of that relationship. If that evidence is forthcoming,
then what you propose sounds an excellent idea. It will enhance my standing
within the organization! And you two boys, Miguel and Cody, that will be
good for you too! So the demonstration of fighting skills is over -- for now.
Instead, we will allow Mr Bellocchio and Mr Rawlings to use our
accommodation for the night. I will make a decision tomorrow on Mr
Rawlings' proposal, based on what we learn in the meantime about his ...
friendship with young Christopher! Mr Rawlings, perhaps you would like to
help your young friend.'

Dazed, I found my handcuff being unlocked. Chris had pushed his shoulders
up, but his head was still sagging so that his dark hair brushed the filthy
floor. I bent over him and, putting my hands under his shoulders, helped him
to his feet. Then, instinctively, I turned to face him and hugged his battered body,
pressing my cheek against his. I felt his hands on my back, squeezing in
return. With those three criminals looking on ... hell, I didn't mind! It was
the first time I had held Chris's unclothed torso in my arms, and just then the
ecstasy of that compensated for everything. My right hand caressed Chris's
side just above the waistband of his jeans and felt its way up towards his left
nipple, while with my left hand burrowing in the long hair at the back of his
neck I gently drew his head towards mine so that our foreheads touched ...

A door was opened and Chris and I found ourselves ushered through it. A
key turned in the lock behind us. Our first night together was beginning ...