iBi Fuck Fiction

The Company: Chapter Eight: Joel

2010-05-12T23:06:00.000-04:00

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Joel

I watched the men-in-black escort Djon from the room. Okay, so they weren't necessarily wearing black. They almost looked like they were on a golf outing -- some in jeans, some not. And even without those little ear thingies that made them look like they were guarding the president or something, it seemed like they were, indeed, a kind of security force to be reckoned with.

Jonathan came bounding downstairs and I watched as he crossed the room, almost ignoring. Jonathan had to be an Aries. Michael probably had to be a Taurus or an Aries. He seemed like one. Speaking of the devil.

"Guys, Michael's coming!" I said, looking out the back doors as he approached.

That was the queue for Jonathan to reappear as Michael stepped into the room.

"Hi Michael!" I added to the chorus of welcome back. Jonathan kissed him on the cheek and whispered something. A glance between them and Michael stepped into the room.

"Who can get me a Diet Coke?" he said.

I wanted to laugh at the guys darting for the fridge. I jumped off the tacky sofa and made a b-line for Michael, shaking his hand for actually the first time.

"I'm Joel," I said. "Last night I introduced myself as..."

"Rod," he said.

"Yea, as Rod." I turned on the fire in my eyes. Subtle though. This was no ordinary mark. I didn't need to hone in over the loud music or the crowds. "I'm really Joel. Joel McKindrey. Live in Midtown. Originally from Iowa."

"That explains the beef," Michael said, as Jonathan stepped away and one of the guys handed him a Diet Coke, already opened. But I didn't release Michael's hand. I kept his eyes, although I could see Michael's narrow a little.

"So, Joel, you're enjoying yourself?" he sipped the silver can.

I flexed one of my pecs and let it relax a little. "I could be having more fun. Some of these guys can be a little..." I paused for dramatic effect. "...shallow." I didn't wink fully, but enough that I knew Michael could see the slight inflection and notice my attention. I knew I needed to get his mind off whatever seriousness seemed to be going down in the world around us. The other men surrounded him, although several seemed to focus attention.

"I don't mind shallow, it has its uses," Michael said, eying my body. "But I don't mind a good conversation, Joel. Walk with me."

"No problem," I spun around and kept aside as we walked up the stairs, seemingly ignoring Zeke and up another set of stairs to the top most level where the Master Bedroom awaited. Michael closed the door behind us and started stripping.

"I didn't get much of a shower this morning," he said. "You can keep me company."

"Of course," I said, following him. As tall as Michael was, I was wide. I didn't bother to leave my clothes on. They were just shorts, so I stripped them off immediately and soon we were in the over-sized bathroom together.

"Scrub your back?" I offered.

"Never thought you'd ask," he said. "But that's not exactly a deep conversation."

"I don't know," I responded. "It might get pretty deep for one of us."

Now I did wink.

"Before we get too sexual, I understand we've had a problem or two around here," Michael said matter-of-factly.

"I don't think it's anything too serious," I said. "Nothing that should impact our time together."

The steam in the shower was now beginning to rise and I felt the temperature warm me up. I closed my eyes and began thinking of something to make me hard. It wasn't puppy dogs or girls or boys. I just needed to bone up so he'd think I was into him. And then, I walked forward and pulled his face down into mine.

A quizzical look appeared: "You kiss."

"That's not all I do," I pulled away, knelt and began sucking his already hard cock with ferocity. I'd been taught a few techniques. Not particular good, but well enough to get me by.

After a respectable blow job that he seemed to enjoy, I stood and leaned in for a kiss.

"Ah, you kiss and you suck," He said.

In between kisses, I responded, "Not all."

That's when I turned around, spit on my ass, and lowered it a little on his cock.

I know it wasn't romantic. I wasn't much about romance and, I bet, Michael wasn't either. I was right. Within moments, he grabbed my hips and I no longer did anything. He did all the thrusting. And within moments, under the steamy, soapy water, he let the cum burst forth into my hot beefy ass.

I groaned with him.

As we parted and cleaned up, almost like business partners, I placed my offer: "I told you these guys are shallow. You can fuck me. Anytime. They get you hot and bothered. Come back and see me. Use my ass. They won't let you use their ass. Use mine. Deep. Anytime."

I kissed him and stepped out.

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The Company: Chapter Eight: Zeke

2010-04-20T00:53:00.000-04:00

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Zeke

Okay, so this shit ain't fucking what I expected. And being that I ain't exactly knowing what I'm doing here with these guys, I don't know what the fuck to do right about now.

"Is there any way I can just get a ride home?" I asked Jonathan.

"Sure Zeke, if you don't want the twenty-five-thousand-dollars, we can get you home," he said. But it was the way he said it. Slow. Deliberate. Twen-teeeee. Five. Thou-sand. Dol-lars. Fuck. That's so fucking much money. Last year, when I did my tax return, I made less than that. It's fucking April and I've made more than fifteen and I've only been working at the Cock Swing for a couple of months. And I'm going to more than double it in a weekend.

"I guess I can stay, but dude, this is pretty fucked up."

"I know, Zeke," Jonathan said. "I just need to understand what's going on with Djon and the drugs."

"I don't know man," I lied. "I mean, he's got blue and shit like that. I don't know anything harder than that."

The Djon dude had the Cock Swing place wrapped up and he wasn't about to let ole Zeke work his magic. Not that I'm some sort of big time dealer or some shit like that. But I've got pharmaceutical connections for grade A business better than the CVS. Okay, so it is the CVS. Easy to get the blues of all flavors. A little harder to harvest the oxy and vicas, but we manage.

But Djon just didn't want to competition, so I kept the profile low. I felt like walking but my cock swinging got the best of me when I started rolling in the dough. Not that I'm swinging a baseball bat or nothing. It's more like a beer can. Thick dong. And it just got the boys hot for it. I can take a $20 and on a good night, when I'm feeling it, wrap it around my cock and each end almost won't touch.

The queers just fucking love the thick motherfucker.

I don't do a lot of VIP because I don't take a 15. I require 45 or an hour. That guarantees me at least 500. One night, I got a good whale and he paid me a good $3K to lollipop me for the whole hour. Didn't even have to pop.

One guy asked me to pop. I asked him for a thousand. He paid. It took 10 minutes. I walked in, jerked on his face. The splash was huge when I finally managed it. I'm not really into men but he was definitely not my type if I were. He gave me an extra 100 and had to go home his shirt was so wet from my spunk.

But all my pharmaceutical trade is off the books and since my girl got busted from her work at the Pony, I need to be careful of the cops. And unlike Djon, I don't indulge in anything from the shacks, so no meth or E or any of that crap. Well, except for the occasional Mary Jane. We all love a little toke now and then.

"Are you sure Michael wants me here?" I asked. "I mean, I am a little darker than the others." I point out the obvious of being the only African American among the bunch.

"I do believe Miguel is at least partially black," Jonathan said. "But I believe Michael saw other attributes in you that he liked."

"This?" I pointed at my cock.

"No," Jonathan said. "While Michael may be gay, he's definitely not about the cock. I believe it was your chest and arms."

I look down at my bulging dark pecs and hulking guns.

"Whatever," I said. "He doesn't like my cock? I mean, it's thick."

"I'm sure it is, Zeke," Jonathan said. "Thanks for answering my questions." Jonathan headed dwn the stairs to the noise of the others.

He doesn't like my cock. Damn. I thought all fags liked a big cock. Maybe I need to rethink my game.

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The Company: Chapter Eight: Ryan

2010-04-18T10:57:00.000-04:00

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Ryan

"With any luck, Michael won't notice Yancy is missing," Jonathan told us. "But I will take care of that. I'd ask that you keep the topic off limits. And I'd appreciate it if you'd avoid indulging in anything other than what you need to perform over this weekend."

Jonathan looked around the room.

"I've taken the liberty to contact a doctor and for those of you in good health, I have procured Viagra and Cialis in various strengths. In order to be responsible about this and not to run into any other problems, one or two of you at a time may go visit a physician at the next cottage over," Jonathan continued. "He will also have antibiotics and other medicines for you. No questions asked. He'll give you a full body work up as best he can. He'll be available all weekend at any time with a nurse practitioner. Even if you aren't going to need it, this is among the best healthcare you can get at absolutely no cost and no forms, no insurance and no records. Gentlemen. This is important. I cannot have a repeat. We're lucky this occurred while Michael was absent. Now any questions?"

The room was heavy with silence. Tension remained and I knew it would snap soon. But no one spoke. Our code of silence kept us quiet. Djon looked pleased.

"All right," Jonathan said. "Michael has even more pressure on him after this meeting and will be returning momentarily. You guys better start lightening the mood up." Jonathan seemed to pause to listen. "Djon and Chase, head over to the physician's cottage since you two were rooming with Yancy. They want to make sure it wasn't a virus or anything like that."

About that time, two men in black appeared. Now, interestingly enough, they didn't wear black suits, but black t-shirts and black jeans with black sunglasses. I never saw those funky little wires to their ears like you'd figure.

I figured this would be a last hurrah before being shipped off. I'd joined the Army, despite the huge British Naval Battle tattoo across my chest. I figured at 24 I needed to start making something with my life and the military might have something to offer. Good news is the shitstorm in Iraq had calmed down. Bad news was a brand new shitstorm was starting up in Afganistan. Good news was George Dubbya was out of office. Good news was Obama was in office. So I figured there was more good news for the military than bad, so it was time. My older brother had survived two tours and seemed no worse for the wear.

In fact, he seemed damn finer for it.

Last time we were home, we had another one of our brotherly sessions, off out by the lake all night, I think we went through almost seven six packs. We'd made it through the Miller Lite and part way through the Buds when we stopped pretending and started at it. I guess we finally were getting at what we truly knew about each other.

He did it to me the first time when I was 11 and he was 15. He never truly told me who did it to him, but I always thought it was Dad before Mom kicked him out.

The last time he was home, we were a little more drunk. And last time, we kissed after he fucked me. This time, he kissed me before we were even completely naked. Beneath the stars, along the side of the lake in the warmth of those tattered old sleeping bags we'd had since kids. Who knows how many cum stains were on them already. Not enough beer in our systems now. We both knew what we were doing. We both knew what we wanted.

He kissed me. Even in the darkness, our eyes met and I could see his.

"Bro," he said. "All I could think of after Wanat when I was on patrol there was you." He'd been there, in a small village somewhere in bumfuck Afghanistan and something bad had gone down. "I wanted to do that. I don't know why."

So it was out there. We kissed more. And that night, he fucked me and fucked me slow. We drank more. A lot more. He told me more stories about the shit that went down in Wanat and what the news didn't tell us about the rock ants and towel heads. Then, he got sloppy. He cried. And then he begged me to do something I never thought I would. He begged me to fuck him.

My cock stood harder than I ever had before and I found it easy to slide into my brother's ass. Even though I'd cum twice when he'd fucked me earlier, fucking him just earned me a new life through my cock. He begged for my cum. He wanted to take it home with him to the Army. And I left him all the babies I could.

That was when I decided I had to join my brother. Even if we couldn't fuck in the Army together. I wanted to be closer to him.

Toward the morning, I fucked him again and he fucked me. We'd each taken two loads from each other. It seemed fitting.

And now, here I am waiting to see if someone or someone else will fuck me or if I get to fuck someone before I go off to war. Before I go off to see my brother again.

"Ryan, walk with me a moment," Jonathan said, passing me and walking upstairs toward the main floor of the house.

I followed him, wondering what's up. I've borrowed a couple of blue in my day, but I know my winning smile and my body is my selling point. Getting a hard cock is never a difficulty I've really had except after a couple of VIP dances where I've popped. Then it becomes more of a problem.

We landed upstairs and walked toward the main kitchen when Jonathan turned and faced me.

"Is Djon a drug dealer?" he asked.

The question was blunt and direct. I felt no option but to answer honestly. And, well, fuck, I'm leaving soon.

"Yup," I said. "He's the primary supplier for the club. Mostly Viagra, Crystal and Cocaine. Some Ecstasy, basic uppers, some Oxycontin and occasionally other designer drugs and painkillers. Some guys like Cialis."

"What about Chase?" he asked.

"As far as I know, Chase only goes blue occasionally," I said. Then I see the questioning look on Jonathan's face. "He uses the little blue pills sometimes like Viagra or V. That's what we call it in the club. Going blue or using blue."

"Understood," he said. He then tapped a place just below his ear. "Garland, it's just Djon. Chase is clear. Make sure the doc gets a look at him." Jonathan looked at me. "Thanks, Ryan for shooting straight. I thought you would. Is there anything you'd like us to do for you?"

"Huh?" I asked.

"Think about it," Jonathan said. "We can do things. I understand you've enlisted and your brother is in the Army. We can get you on the same base, maybe on the same unit, if you'd like."

That made me nervous a little. Did they know? Wait. I mean, it's just my brother. "Ah," I said. "Yea, I mean that would be cool."

"Let me know," Jonathan said. "Also, Michael really likes you. He remembers you from a previous visit. You were very nice to him. He loved your tattoo and your smile. Spend some time with him. Make him feel good. You've already made a good impression. Do that, and you will leave here very happy. Now head down and send up Zeke."

I was a little shocked, but backed away. "Sure thing."

My brother. Maybe I would be near him. I headed downstairs.

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The Company: Chapter Eight: Miguel

2010-04-18T02:01:00.000-04:00

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Miguel

Da water was warm as I jumped in. Kinda interrupted a tender moment between da jarhead and da kid. But it was cool cause it was all about da whale papi and his lovin' and he wasn't around. I needed to get out of the testosteroni village over who supplied bad drugs.

We all know the D-man givin' all the drugs up in here and we all know about that but I just don't wanna be about that scene. I'm livin' all clean and that. Jarhead and da kid kept huggin' but I just swim a bit and cool off to wait for things in da house to be back to norm. Maybe the Jon guy come and get things chill soon. Or maybe I go find some work out.

Dis whole money action might be cool. I enjoy the cash. I mean we all do cause we're here and all. All bout lookin' for the score for the cash. Suck my cock for a Benjamin. I give more for more, you know what I mean. I like the ladies but they all bout wantin' you to shell out monies for them and I don't have the cash.

I work at a Golds over in Decaturs and occasional do some one-on-one trainin'. You be surprised how many married men want to get in shape but they really payin' to suck on this uncut blatino wonder of a thick cock. I got this one daddy who pay me two just to squirt it in his face and blind him. If I'll then spray him clean, I'll earn another.

He then go home to his Jewish wife and pretend like he had a great work out at the gym. But he gain more weight and she don't notice. I wonder if she's banging some tennis pro or something.

Looks like da jarhead is going to wrinkle up with da kid, so I'm going to go get some rays. A little cool in the breeze, I know.

I lays on one of the chairs and let my mind wonder. I wonder if I'm going to get fuck by one of the other guys here. Possible. But I gots a big cock so maybe I gets to fuck them. Da kid, he gots a thin ass but it would be so sweet to watch my dark thick massive cock disappear into his thin little lily white ass. I mean, wondering where it all goes and all.

Someone blocks the sun.

"Miguel," Jonathan says. "How's it's going?"

"All right man," I says. "Just catching a little rays."

"Everything all right in the house after Yancy's departure?" he asks.

"I think the guys all worried and all bout who brought the stuff, you know?" I says. "But I'm staying away from it."

"Gotcha," Jonathan says. "Well come on in the house soon. Michael will be returning."

"Sure thing, boss," I says.

I close my eyes for a moment as he goes over to the pool. It's going to be a weekend to remember. But at least I'll sees more than a few Bejamins.

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The Company: Chapter Eight: Kevin

2010-04-17T10:46:00.000-04:00

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Kevin

He still shivered against me but I didn't mind. I knew he wasn't cold but his body reacting to the human warmth I was showing him. I'd seen the reaction before to people I'd reached out to before, even in Iraq in the heat of that God-forsaken place. Sometimes, when I'd wear my old combat boots on stage, I could swear I could feel the sand inside them still. I'd go backstage after the set and try to dump them out. Again. My brain screwing around with me again.

My shrink kept telling me it was all right to inspect things, but still, I know these little ghosts might never disappear.

I was on a type of disability -- not completely disabled and not completely on duty and not quite discharged. I was in the mess hall when a guy in my unit when fucknuts and started shooting the place up. He killed four and wounded seven before I took him out. Well, mine was the kill shot, or that's what I was told. Several of us converged and took aim, messing him up big time to stop the shooting. But I didn't hesitate. I went for the head.

So I moved home to Atlanta and my Aunt and Uncle happened to have a small, unoccupied guest house available. Of course, they'd been using it for storage for the last decade so I'd been cleaning it out.

At 27, I'm older than most around here. And Aaron is young. Very young to be doing this.

Sexuality isn't a solid line. The Marines certainly taught me that. In the all-male combat units surrounded by enemies with the only entertainment as booze and our cocks, we do some fucked up hazing. Nothing so homosexual that we'd queer out.

"Shoot 'em up circle jerk" is probably my favorite. I've lost that one on purpose. Twice. You stand in a circle and jerk off with a shot glass. The objective is to get as much of your cum in the shot glass. The last one to cum has to drop the shot glass (with ever how much cum is in it) to your beer.

With so much testosterone around me, I can usually pop off quick, but I delayed on purpose to try it out once. I got a little shit but used the excuse I'd whacked off to my girl the night before. I didn't mind the taste. Made my beer a little more bitter.

Aaron got my attention before but I feel like a perv paying attention to him. He seems to like it though. I wonder if someone so much younger can get into me. Yet I guess this weekend isn't about him and me. It's about this whale of a Michael. When we stepped outside, I could see him across the lake with another guy I didn't recognize.

Sharpshooter's eyes. Never fail.

"Better?" I said, looking down at Aaron in my arms. He seemed to have calmed down. At least, he wasn't shivering as much.

"Yea," he said.

But I could feel his hardon still against my leg. And I had a bit of one too.

"As much as I'd like to advance this, we're supposed to save all the play for our whale," I told him.

"Why do they call him a whale?" Aaron asked.

"I think it comes from Las Vegas," I said. "Casinos call people who have a lot of money, 'whales.' Maybe it's because they come from Japan. I don't know."

"Ah," he said. "Didn't think he was fat."

"Who?"

"Mike," he said. "The whale?"

"No," I said. "He's not fat."

We paused and I looked down at him and his green eyes. Still in my arms. I could feel another shiver through his body. And I did something I've rarely done before.

I kissed him. I closed my eyes and in the next few moments, the house disappeared. The sand was gone. The club. The pool. The whale. The water. And all of could feel was him and his body against mine. The moment our lips touched seemed more than electric. As if the entire universe compressed into a single instance and met in his perfect lips that touched mine.

While I never thought of myself as gay, straight or bi, I now thought of myself as wanting him. At 27, I'd longed to have sex with many other humans. This was the first time I just wanted to exist with someone else.

I wonder what he felt.

"Save the fun for the whale boys!"

Miguel spoke and the bubble that surrounded the moment shattered. I held on to Aaron, who seemed to be breathing harder. I looked at him. He seemed distressed.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry!" he said. "I couldn't help it!"

I looked down between us and could see the milky white substance floating up from his still throbbing cock. Now I know what he felt.

"Don't be sorry," I whispered. "It will be fine. I'm here."

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The Company: Chapter Eight: Aaron

2010-04-17T02:09:00.000-04:00

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Aaron

The ambulance left. Felt sort of naked. I had agreed to it. Kept the shirt off. Didn't mind being without a shirt. Spent a lot of time naked. Yancy was a cool dude. Knew he had trouble with the drugs though. Don't know why cause he was cool and all.

Still don't know why Mike picked me. Not muscular big like all the others. Guess my age got me in or something. Just 19. Started at the club right after high school. Actually tried college for a little bit. Never really did good. High school was easy. College was not.

Dad did not like my quitting 'tude so had to get a job. Heard about the club from a high school bud that was gay and all. Tried it out. It worked good.

Funny thing. Not sure if I am gay or not. Do not mind the guys giving head. Sometimes it feels kind of good. Girls doing it feels good too. Not sure which feels better.

So Yancy was cool and all. Sometimes he freaks out a little. Djon is a bad influence. He is bad for all the guys. Do not know why the club keeps him. Guess the boner pills keep business up. Guess it is needed to keep the gay guys coming.

Jonathan tells us all to act like nothing happens with Yancy. Guess that is fine. Mike is paying for fantasy or something hot. Guess all these guys get him going.

Go searching for some juice or something. Find some fruit. Good stuff, really fresh. Chatting a little with the Kevin guy. He is like a Army guy or something.

"I've seen you around the club some," Kevin says. "How long have you been working there?"

"About four months," I say. "So not long."

"You like it?" he's got tattoos but not as many. When I started driving, I started getting tattoos. Stars along my left side, along my hip and all along and tight abs and even around my nip. South paw here. Like being a lefty. Proud of it. How I show it. Ram's head middle of my back between the blades. Irish shrocks and my last name like a necklace. More schrocks on both ankles and a fighting leprechaun on my right ass cheek.

Want more. Ink likes me. The sensation of the needle biting into muscle, skin, bone just feels right. Goes into another place.

"You like working at the club?" the Army guy asks.

"I don't mind," I say. "It pays the bills."

Work all week. Make good bank. Got two regulars seeing on the side so pulling in $2,000 to $3,000 a week. Been putting money in the bank in case things get slim.

Army guy is taller. He must be six feet. At five-three, he towers over me. He is also broad and probably around 220. Around 100 pounds here. Seen his cock. It is about seven. So am I.

"Sorry about Yanc and all, but you gotta watch the drugs," Army guy is kind of whispering.

"Yea," is all I say.

He takes a drink. How much hair he has on his body. Wow. All over. Light. Hairy. Barely see it all. But it is there. Have none myself. Except above cock and on head. Weird.

"Want to go outside and check out the pool?" he asks. Still looking at the hair. On his pecs too. Around these nipple. Lots of it. See it on his shoulders. Wonder if there is some on his ass.

"Yea," I say.

He laughs. "You don't say much, do you kid?"

"No," I smile. "Not much."

We walk outside. Sun is bright. Lake is beautiful. Some guys already swam in the pool. Said it was heated. Looks nice. Not cold although only spring. Eighties outside. Chills a little with breeze. Goose bumps.

"Little chilly kid," Army guy says. He wraps his right around. Pulls close to that hairy bod. Shiver. Not from cold. Now he hugs. "You okay."

"Yea," I whisper.

He looks down. "You sure kid? You're shivering! You don't have a lot of meat on your bones!" He is hugging. Tighter. Feeling that hair all over him. All over me. Weird. Cock getting hard. The pool is not far. "Want to go inside or get in the pool?"

No one is in the pool. Lots of guys inside. Kind of like being alone with him. Weird. Seen him at the club. Never really talked.

"Pool?"

Pull away. Turn away so he cannot see my hard dick. Get into water. Stop shivering. Then he is there.

"I noticed," Army guy pulls me close. "You like me holding you."

Cannot speak. Kissing now. So warm.

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The Company: Chapter Eight: Yancy

2010-04-16T18:34:00.000-04:00

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Yancy

My cock never got big enough, but I kept going back to the jungle. I knew I shouldn't. I'd work out all week, working my body harder, telling myself I wouldn't go, but Wednesday night would roll around and I'd know by then I was fooling myself.

I fooled myself a lot of the time.

I told myself it was the last time for Tina. Yet I'd do another bump. She'd always call and D would be there to supply. I mean, jeez, it just felt so good. I'd tell myself I wouldn't let D come over late at night yet there he would be with a bump and I'd be naked and taking it.

I'm a dumb jock. I know it.

So all day Friday, I spent at the gym, sweating out Thursday night's bump. My arms are massive and my chest is huge. But when I look in the mirror, I know it needs to get a little bigger. If I wasn't scared shitless my balls would drop off, I'd pump up with another cycle, but too many roids already has my tits sensitive as hell.

So I don't indulge that anymore.

D didn't work Thursday night because he'd heard a whale was making it in Friday, but I needed the cash so I did. As usual, though, D breezed through to check on the guys to see if anyone needed a bump or some blue. I passed like a good boy but he winked at me. I knew what that meant. My ass twitched. I couldn't help it.

My muscle-boy body stepped on the stage and I did my straight boy dance. I actually can dance but I pretend not to cause I think it makes me more cash. I strip my body bare of any hair thanks to a waxing from some cheap Asian place down the street from my cheap flop apartment. I'm two blocks from a Gold's and four blocks from an American 24/7. I go to both seven days a week. I eat chicken and rice along with steamed veggies most meals. Never any bread. I like it lean. I have a futon on the floor and an Xbox 360 in my apartment. I own six pairs of jeans and 17 t-shirts. I like to brush my teeth. I get zits on my chin. That bothers me.

I wish I was taller. Five-foot-five isn't tall enough.

So D comes over after I leave at four and I swing by a waffle house for a quick grilled chicken breast. Janie there knows me and usually has one with mashed potatoes waiting and a milk to go.

I'm halfway through when my phone beeps. It's D. "Bump n bump."

I shouldn't but I can't help it. I stop eating. I text back, "Y" and unlock the door. I grab the lube and lather my ass and flop onto the futon.

I hear D come in and the jeans drop. His dick is so thick and it's already around my hole. I reach back for the plastic bag which D hands me. I ignore the pain as his thick head enters my ass and bring the bag to my face, trying to find that magical powder and inhale it deep.

The pain dissipates and whatever D is doing doesn't matter.

I'm able to work my muscles all night and day in preparation for the whale. When D's cum along with my earlier meal leaks out into the diaper I'm wearing, it's easy to dispose in to gym's bin.

* * *

Chase is looking kinda weird as we're shooting pool. He's always seemed cool but I've never gotten the vibe off him. But I kind of am now. Maybe this whale action is getting Chase to decide which guy he wants to fool around with and maybe that guy is me.

Not a bad choice. I mean, Chase is smaller than D, at least in the thickness department. Gotta like that.

Good thing D carries more uppers or else I'd have crashed. Tina can be a bitch when she's not fed. D says he's got some coke upstairs too and I might need some of that too to keep me up. I noticed a good workout room here with a few machines. Not the free weights I'd like but still.

"Your shoot Yanc," Chase said.

"Groovy," I look over the table and notice it's spinning a little. I'm crashing. Fuck. But I can focus on the cue ball so I take a scratch shot. I move toward D and make a whisper. "Hey, I need to see our friend."

"No now," D says, nodding toward the Jonathan guy, who's keeping an eye on the room like a den mother or something.

There's lots of men in black around here. It's like we're fucking around with the president or something. I don't know who this guy is -- the whale I mean. I don't know him. I've met some good whales. I'll never forget meeting that big name movie star. The one who's married and short and claims to be religious and all. But let me tell you, he can fuck good. I know. I got him in the ass. D and I partied with him and I made bank that night. D got more but I made a good thou.

But now I'm dizzy.

"Yanc, you okay?"

You'd think with this much money, he could afford a table that stays still.

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The Company: Chapter Eight: Chase

2010-04-16T14:12:00.003-04:00

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Chance

First off, let me make this perfectly fucking clear: I'm straight. I ain't a fag. I wanted to dance for girls but they're fucking little cunts. They'll give you a dollar or two but unless they're some old cougar who got lucky on a divorce settlement, the bucks don't flow.

So the one sure thing I've learned to get hard for is a twenty dollar bill. That and the fact I can be sure Djon will get me a viagra if I'll give him a fifty. And getting him a fifty isn't a problem if I'm sporting wood.

Wood is always the trick. The weird thing is, if I'm honest with myself, some guys do turn my crank. They know how to handle my cock. I've got a good eight inches and girls just don't know how to handle it. Back in high school when I'd finally got Lauren to open up that juicy little cunny for me, I pushed it in and she started to squawk about it being too big.

Guys never complain about the size. I was doing an hour VIP one night and this dude like laid down on the sofa and asked me to make him choke on my cock. He told me to pay him no attention when he gagged and all as I shoved this thick thing inside his throat. I never even felt his teeth. Lauren wouldn't even lick me.

I've fucked 17 girls. I can't count the number of guys who's sucked me off. I don't know if I should be proud of that. But I'm straight. I like girls.

So I heard this big shot was coming into the club on Friday and Djon like slips me an extra blue, telling me I can pay him back later. I save it and pop the first one waiting for my turn. Lance tells us we will each get a chance to head back -- not all at once or anything. Just entertain and we'll all be rewarded with the cash.

I like the cash. James was one of the first and he's all like it's worth it. He pulls out a wad of hundreds and my blue boner gets even harder. So I'm all about heading back there and can't wait. But I do my stage time anyway when my name is called.

I'm Costa on stage. Sounds a little Latin cause I got a little Latin look and sometimes I play that angle, although I'm really from North Georgia. My Momma would be all bent out of shape if she knew her 20 year old son was down here swinging cock for faggots. I think I've even seen the church organist in the crowd.

So I get two rotations and even get a few lap dances. So far, it's a slim night so I'm thankful when I get to head back for the whale in back. I wipe on a little more vitamin E lotion so I sparkle and then round the corner, flexing my biceps at a nice 17 inches. My pecs bulge out for the guy, who's really not old or fat. Usually whales are fugly, but not this one.

"I'm Costa," I say.

"What's your name really?" he asks.

I wink at him, "Wouldn't you like to know."

He rolls his eyes. I work on my pants and turn around so my baseball worked-out ass is obvious. He whispers something to the guy next to him in all black. Maybe it's something about my ass.

I adjust my hardon before turning around so it's still hidden a little and grind. I move slow to the beat. I don't bother with my shoes, figuring the whale won't care.

"He's in," the whale says.

And soon I'm ushered out.

I guess I passed cause I'm handed $500, which makes up for the pathetic night elsewhere. I'm told not to leave and I do another rotation on the stage before a bunch of us are invited back including Djon.

We're invited to some cottage somewhere but we can't take our phone or anything. So the whale leaves and the hot guy in black gets up and tells us all this shit like we'll get $2,500 plus a lot more if we make the whale, who's name is Michael very happy. No smoking. Not too much drinking. Keep clean. Keep fresh. Make him feel special. Oh, and gay stuff is required.

But $2,500. I'm all hard for that. So I'm in.

We're on the bus when Djon says the magic words though. "I hope I don't have to take anything up my ass."

That's when I figure out that the dude in black meant keeping clean might have included the shit in my ass. So I'm all fuck no, nothing is going up my ass.

"It's not that bad," Kevin tells me. Kevin used to be a Marine which is kind of weird because I'm thinking a Marine wouldn't have had anything up his ass but Kevin is all like, "Yes, I've had a lot of shit up my ass. Stuff other than shit. And yes, it includes cocks. It doesn't make me gay."

Then he explains this prostrate thing that feels good when you poke it.

So that explains this girl I fucked once named Candi. At least I think it was Candi with an "i." Candi actually put her finger on my asshole when she was blowing me but I pulled her hand away. She was okay at blowing but she did weird stuff with her hands.

Another guy, I think his name was Yancy, said he'd had something up his ass too and it had felt good once he got used to it. But I just wasn't sure I wanted to get used to it.

After a while, I must have dozed off. It seemed like a long drive. It must have been about 4:30 before we got there. When we got there, the guy in black collected our driver's license and made us sign this contract thing promising never to talk about the weekend. Whatever. All I wanted was the money. I found a room and went to sleep.

* * *

Djon woke me the next morning around 8:30 and said come downstairs for a meeting. I wanted to sleep some more, but whatever. I needed the cash.

The guy in black, I think his name was Jon, told us we were to go shirtless the whole time we were there. He gave us some "shorts" to wear. No underwear. Cool by me. I like showing off my body. My 34-inch waist may seem thick to some, but it fits my body good. My dark black thick hair and brown eyes appear give me a boyish good looks since I can't even grow a beard or mustache. Then there's my perfectly smooth chest and a nice little pubic mound that I keep nicely trimmed. Of course my runner's legs are slightly hairy, but I clip them -- not shave, because I think the prickly feel is weird. And unlike a lot of my fellow dancers, I don't have a single tattoo. The ink lets my body seem perfect. I like that appearance of perfection.

We're also taught the whale's name is Michael, that he's a "top" meaning he like to stick his dick into asses (uh oh) and we're to be all nice to him.

We do not know what kind of mood he will be in when he wakes up. We're all told things about him that I can't really remember. I just know I wanted to make him feel good so if it hurts to have him in my ass, I guess it's going to hurt. I wonder if it's $1,000 or $5,000 more if I take his cock?

So he wakes up and I'm playing pool with Djon and Yancy. Yancy has a better body than me. Funny thing is Djon thinks he has the best body but I don't think so. I think Yancy's is the best. But I don't think I could tell Yancy that. Djon's cock is bigger though. Not longer. It's just bigger around.

Michael the whale leaves for a while, which is a relief he isn't sticking his cock in my ass right now. But now, for some reason, I'm thinking of Yancy sticking his cock in my ass. Now Yancy's cock isn't really big. In fact, it's like six inches and a good handful but not huge. But Yancy's body is really nice. Yancy's body I'd like to touch. Is it bad that I'm getting a hard on and I'm not tripping on a blue?

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The Company: Chapter Seven

2010-04-12T22:57:00.002-04:00

The Board meeting scheduled at the beginning of next week meant my fun would end soon. My life had changed in three weeks. My life and name had changed. In fact, nothing now seemed to resemble the former.

Deej and Ste seemed to be getting it on every night in one of the suite's bedrooms. Jonathan sulked in another as, despite his advances, I sent him off. Other candidates I sent for never seemed to show, which made me wonder whether they existed or were just scared too shitless to enter my orbit.

Kevin, my "massage therapist" at Disney, became quite a kinky little fuck. He recommended a four-hand session with Jose, a 23-year-old Latino who was training at the resort. We invited him up.

Okay, so he's 23 years old and six-foot-five. The dude towered over me. It freaked Ste out but I kept things calm and we got the massage started. Pretty soon, Kevin was riding my cock and, well, I wondered where Jose was. Then, I felt something. Something, that felt familiar yet unusual.

Kevin strained and grunted and pushed to accommodate Jose is his tight little hole with mine. Because of Kevin's low height of the massage table, Jose was able to completely straddle it and come up behind and enter Kevin easily.

After a little effort, pretty soon Kevin widened enough to take us both. As we fucked him, especially Jose with his powerful thick thrusts, Kevin began leaking all over me and then, without warning, shot all over us both. His pulsing put me over the edge which, in turn, put Jose there too.

Cum covered the three of us and, for the next few days, we tried several different combinations while the love birds loved and the sulky boy sulked.

Before I'd fly out west for the Board meeting, I had a special stopover to plan and sent Jonathan to see if he might redeem himself.

Ste worked the security plan for my travel and Deej and I spent a little more time at the parks with passes to the front of all the rides thanks to Kevin and Jose.

"Do you still love him?" I asked.

"I think so," Deej smiled his devilish grin.

"You won't be able to be my assistant then," I said, bluntly. This caused an immediate silence. I let it linger a beat and waited until I heard Deej begin to take a deep breath. "You'll need to go set up a home, white picket fence and all and greet your husband in plastic wrap with a cocktail every night."

Deej punched me playfully. We were in the Magic Kingdom and approaching Adventureland where I could get a pineapple sorbet, the only place you could get one anywhere in the parks -- at least that I'd ever found -- was here and I absolutely loved the Dole soft serve here.

We waited patiently as the clouds skirted across the sky. Deej kept up with me as we'd been over and over these theme parks, which I already knew like the back of my hand. I loved the lush beauty and little secrets available in the hidden corners. We'd had access early mornings and late nights to the best rides and ridden our fill, although I could ride them again and again. But it being mid-day, the lines would be lengthy. With one phone call, Deej could get us to the front of any line, of course, but why piss off the ordinary tourists.

With my flavorful treat in hand, we began walking toward the Swiss Family Robinson tree house, just to wander around. I did ask Deej about his plans with Ste. Did it seem serious enough? I did miss Deej's ass and wanted access again sometime, but wanted them to have a little honeymoon. For me, Disney would be perfect.

"I don't know if it's forever," Deej said, almost wistfully. "Ste's too, well, British for me."

"What the fuck are you saying?" I uttered through a chunk of pineapple.

"He's not opening up," Deej said. "I'm not sure he feels much of anything with me. Sure he says he loves me, but I don't see it any more than he seems to love you."

"Deej," I peered over my prescription sunglasses. "He's paid to 'love' me, although I wouldn't call it love. It's purely protection. Jeez, I'd even suggest it's a self-interest. It's a way for him to keep his job and make money. He doesn't give a shit about me."

"Maybe," Deej stopped and stared. "Or does he?"

I scooped more sorbet and looked up at the tree. "You know, I really don't want to climb that thing."

We walked out toward Main Street back toward the front of the park and the mid-day crowds grew and some parade started, making it difficult to get to the Monorail station to get out of here.

* * *

We were scheduled to leave the next morning, but Ste got all freaked out that evening at some accident with a floor collapsing on the Swiss Family Robinson tree house.

"Ste, it opened in 1971," I said. "And Deej and I never even walked into it."

"But you walked toward it," he said.

"So someone thought we might," I said. "And sabotaged a floor board that cut a leg of a German tourist? Seriously? No one was even hardly injured! If it wasn't a slow news day, it wouldn't have been mentioned!"

A private jet flew us to an airport just outside Atlanta. Jonathan met us there with an escort of three Hummer H2s, all black. He was decked out and smiled broadly when I stepped off the plane.

He'd poured his frustration into working out and his pectorals obviously showed it. He wore a tight black shirt that stretched across his chest, his biceps were bulging obviously and impossibly against the fabric. His midnight hair now stood up in a kind of spiky mohawk too. He didn't wear jeans, but tight linen pants that accentuated his ass and flared out toward his feet with nice leather shoes.

He'd been styled.

"Who did this?" I asked.

"Did what?" he responded with a little coyness, as we approached the middle H2 and opened the door.

"Your look," I pointed.

"Some queer," he winked at me.

"Nice," I smiled, sitting down.

"Scoot on over," he said, pushing on my ass. And he sat right next to me. Obviously, he was going to take advantage of his time to impress me.

Deej and Ste took the back H2 and I don't know who was in the front. As we sped across the tarmac, other black H2s joined in along with some motorcycles. Confusion reigned for a moment and Jonathan's phone rang.

"Hey Deej," he answered it. "Yea, I imagine he's steamed, but I just wanted him to enjoy time with you. Got you two a nice room too at the Four Seasons." A pause then, "No, we're somewhere else. Don't worry, got one of the top Company firms working on things here. You two enjoy yourself. Everything is fine. Catch you later."

Jonathan pressed "End Call" and then leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. "Now where were we?"

"All right, Jonathan, something is up."

"Nothing I can't handle," he said. "Nothing I can't handle."

"Jay," I said. "Spit it out."

"Ah!" he said. "You've been reading, Mark."

"I have," I nodded.

"Michael," he used my updated name. "I want this job and I will prove to you how badly." This time the pause wasn't dramatic. It had an air of honesty. "I am likely straight, although I do not see sexuality in such static terms."

He turned a little to face me and in the darkening skies, he leaned forward and put his hands on my shoulders. "I do not bond to people easily. If you read my files, I have never applied to be another executive's assistant ever and you would be aware there have been previous men and women with whom I would have been... compatible.

"I chose you for a reason."

I did read his file carefully after it arrived in a secure packet. Indeed, he'd had seven other opportunities to apply and had chosen not to proceed. Two executives had specifically asked him to come onto their details and he had declined. Now Jonathan -- his previous name Jay -- neared the end of his opportunities to be a Personal Assistant. And his experience spoke nothing of an ability to act and cry on demand. He looked as if tears might form.

"I want to work for you for a reason," he said. "Please trust me on that. I fucked up. I fucked up bad. I know that. I know my commitment is to you. I am sorry for what I did. Please give me a chance. I will prove to you I am worthy. And I will become as gay as you want me to be."

A tear did actually fall and part of me felt pity. But I struggled to feel anything for someone who really didn't see me as top priority. In fact, I had trouble with both these candidates -- both Deej and Jonathan. Neither wanted me first.

"Jonathan, I appreciate that," I said. "But you're talking to a person who's been gay since he can first remember anything. I'm practically willing to bet my first cry was because the doctor didn't have show tunes playing in the delivery room. You can't become more gay. You either are or you aren't."

I gave him a half-hearted smile. "You are so very hot and I find you so fucking attractive, I can't stand it," I said. "But I believe you really don't want this. I'm not going to toss you out on your ear, mind you. But I think there's something better for you and there's really pussy involved with it."

"Do me a favor," he said. Then he waited for my answer.

With that question, I never make a full commitment until I get the full "favor."

"What is it?" I asked.

"Wait until the weekend is over," he said. "Then make the decision."

I thought about it.

"I'll do you one better," I said. "No decision until Tuesday morning."

* * *

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* * *

We pulled up to rear entrance of the Ritz-Carlton Buckhead and Jonathan whisked me to the largest suite -- nothing as huge as the other places I'd stayed, but we would only be here for the next few hours, he explained. Plans had been made and more would be explained later. But my fantasy would be fulfilled -- all I wanted and beyond.

I took a shower in the expansive bathroom and stepped out to find a romantic dinner for two waiting just for Jonathan and I. He obviously turned on the charm and would attempt to attack at a man's weakness.

You know the old saying: The way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Gastronomy can indeed work with a good wine and maybe a few other cocktails. But I am no ordinary man. I do not think like other men. I think differently. I do have moments of weakness. But I recover and make course corrections.

When it came to Jonathan, my mind had already reached 90 percent there. And, well, Deej regrettably reached around 75 percent. I liked Ste but I couldn't have the distraction on my team. I especially needed my security detail protecting me and not my personal assistants.

Fuck, I'm an asshole. But the Company saw value in me and I sure as hell saw value in me. I didn't want anyone else to die but I wanted someone else to watch my ass.

The steak proved lovely and the grouper divine. Jonathan had gleaned from my file the recipe from a local home-cooking restaurant the pan-fried lemon-caper-butter that would make the grouper phenomenal. He'd chosen an excellent wine and didn't try to drunken me up. The conversation stayed light and he didn't make any sexual advances.

Impressive.

Soon it approached 9:30 and he suggested we get on the road. He called down for the car and security detail.

"Is Deej and Ste coming?" I asked.

"No," Jonathan said. "I thought they could be on their own and keep to themselves for a while tonight, if that's okay."

"Fine by me," I said.

I changed into jeans and a black shirt. Jonathan gathered up a few sports bags.

"What's in those?" I asked.

"Hundreds, fifties, twenties," he pointed at the green, purple and blue trimmed bags.

"Huh?" I said.

"The hunter green one -- 'hunter' for 'hundreds' -- has ten-thousand one-hundred dollar bills," he said, matter of factually. "The fuchsia or purple one has fifteen-thousand fifty dollar bills. Teal or blue for twenties. There's twenty-thousand of those."

I gulped. "How much is it?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"Yes," I said.

"There is $2.15 million cash," he said. "I've already paid the club $1 million cash and performed about a half million in improvements."

We left before I could say anything else.

I didn't expect it would be that much money, but then again, I guess I now had money to burn. I looked at my off shore accounts out of curiosity earlier. In a way, I'd technically done no work for the Company. Combined, I'd earned $8.43 million U.S. dollars combined. I'd been employed a little over a month.

"You withdrew this money from my personal accounts?" I asked Jonathan.

"Oh no," he said. "Your personal accounts are for use when you retire. Any personal expenses, even this, comes from the Company accounts. Don't worry, Michael. The Company won't even notice this."

The evening had turned nasty and lightning darted across the sky as we drove to the destination, not too far away from the hotel. Our drive turned out to be remarkably short. We drove up Northside Drive, a familiar route I'd taken before. My heart skipped a beat. I couldn't believe I finally got to do this.

We pulled up to the emergency exit door on the side of Swinging Richards, a stripper bar in Atlanta. Jonathan escorted me in as my security detail fanned out inside and out.

It seemed eerie. I'd been back in the VIP lounge before, but never empty. Now empty. Completely. Except for Jonathan and I. Jonathan had obviously installed a scroll door or something to close off the bar area so no one could see back and a special door allowing access in and out.

Fresh, darker painting and new carpeting throughout, a better look and a updated feel. I liked it. Obviously, Company funding went a long way. The furniture didn't seem so dingy and, well, like a sex club. Now it seemed funky and functional with room for the lap dances to get it on without seeming to stress it out.

The small rooms or the VIP rooms got a face lift also thanks to my funding... well, the Company funding. But two of the rooms had been combined into one larger one with a large sofa, delicate lighting and a kind of lounge chair. Mirrors even decorated one wall. So I could sit and stare as a dancer performed and see every corner of his body without him turning around.

Apparently, dancers would be brought back for my inspection. If unacceptable, they'd be given a $20 for their time and sent on their way. They longer they stayed, the more money they made.

We settled in and Jonathan arranged for a drink. Out front, the music mix went on as if nothing happened. But the back VIP lounge was closed for maintenance. All the dancers working tonight were compensated at least three VIP room dances without having to hustle them out. Plus, no popping unless I asked for it.

Popping. Hah! You see, the way Richards works is you pay for a VIP dance in 15-minute increments. If you pay for 30 minutes, that means you get to see the dancer pop one off. He'll cum for you. At least, he will try. Some of the straight boys can't do it. They take the little blue pill (or at least one of them) but it doesn't always work.

Clint arrived first, anxiously. Clint turned out to be a veteran and I'd seen him dozens of times. He never paid much attention to me, even on my 40th birthday. He always cozied up to the bald, older ones in the crowd. My ordinariness always seemed to blend in and kept them away. He got a $50 and I sent him along.

Texas was next. Okay, so I never bothered to learn his name. Truth is Texas was hot. I'd seen him the last few times I'd been there. He always wears a Texas Longhorns cap and he's got this incredible body with the thickest cock you've ever seen.

He's also got an attitude to match the body. And by attitude, I mean not a nice one. He's frankly an incredible asshole. I made the mistake of giving him a dollar bill once. Never again.

When he came in, I asked if he had change for a $20 before his jeans came off. There was a shocked look on his face. I relished the moment when I got to tell him how his attitude turned me off. Then I actually had him sit down.

I invited in the next guy.

James walked in next. First, I handed him a wad of hundreds. James had been remarkably friendly the last time I'd been here and he actually remembered me.

He stared at me speechless.

"Good to see you James," I said. "Now get Tex out of here."

Tex was escorted out by security.

James didn't move. I hugged his shirtless body against mine. "Now head along and enjoy yourself."

"Would you like a dance?" he asked.

"No James," I said. "I'd like you to pop one off."

I leaned back with a drink and watched James stuff about $800 into his jeans. His five-foot-three, stocky frame pulled off his shoes and then underwear.

"You recall..." he said.

"I remember everything, James," I said, flatly. "Forget we're here. Do it the way that works best for you."

James, with the musculature of a Greek god -- and I imagine a little Greek blood coursing through his veins -- pulled the lounge chair in a corner fashion into the light as I sat sipping my drink. James faced me, but closed his eyes, stroking a respectable cock around a half-hard five inches. He licked his hand.

His dark, thick hair stood pulled up into almost a spike, similar to Jonathan's. In a way, they could be brothers. His smooth olive skin shimmered as a little touch of sweat began to build on his body. His thick fingers worked his thin cock into a frenzy and his left hand tweaked his nipples and played with the muscles of his perfectly proportioned body.

Then, he got that cock to full mast. All six inches. All of it. Beautiful. Glorious. And lovely. That slight curve of it to the left. Straight cock. Cock belonging to a straight man, but on display for gay man to appreciate.

James stood and pushed on his cock, his pubes strained against itself and he pressed until his cock went between his legs, like he was tucking his cock into his taint. He turned around and laid down onto the glorified ottoman and began pumping it, as if he fucked an invisible woman.

This motion seemed some intimately erotic, joining this man in his moment of lovemaking with himself. Watching him seem to push his cock into a cushion but knowing it was his thick thighs that actually provided him with the incredible sensation that cause that sweaty skin to develop goose bumps and soon, he was breathing hard.

In just a few moments, he this muscular man seemed to be in the midst of a cardio workout burning plenty of calories.

"I'm..." he breathed... "Going..." he breathed... "To..." he breathed... "Cum...."

And then with a great release of air, his cock pulsed and emerged from between his thighs. I could see his head pulse and a small arc of white milky liquid spurted on the back of his leg. Again, another, larger one and a smaller one. And more, until a pool settled there.

"Don't move, James," I said. "Just stay there."

I leaned over and whispered to Jonathan. He didn't appear shocked at all. He stood and did as I said, walking over to James, kneeling and licking every last drop from his leg and then returning to me for a deep kiss so I might have a little taste.

I've always found strange that bitterness can mix with sweetness. I think that's why I hate dark chocolates. But the taste of James' cum mixed that tangy bitterness with just a hint of sweetness. Maybe he liked pineapples too.

I handed James $5,000 as he left, pulling up those jeans. I also gave him an invitation to return later in the evening if he wished.

The cavalcade of men who paraded through the evening seemed unusual at the very least.

Some I'd met before. The nice ones always got a break. The not so nice, well, I toyed with or just rejected. One using the name Jaggar wandered in with incredible ink and a bit of a chip of his shoulder. Then again, his left shoulder was covered in a tattoo -- a semi-tribal piece not too different than Deej but a lot smaller. It really wasn't tribal, to be honest, with some odd right angles, that gave it an unusual feel that I didn't expect. On his right pec, a bright red tribute to the traditional swallow in tattooing, but again, it reflected the tradition but didn't actually meet the standards.

A little more pale than his tanned counterparts, his thin body moved more fluid with the music. Jaggar stood with the claim to be a straight man, but before the weekend would be through, he'd find out otherwise. I found his red lips to have a slightly feminine quality if you broke it away from his strong body with thick hands. His hands, geez. Some men have hands that deserve being cast in gold. Jaggar proved to be such a man. I extended my hand and took his, feeling them not to be soft at all. Jaggar worked with his hands.

His Apollo's belt ground so deep into his core muscles, they seemed almost like dimples in a body of perfection. And I adored yet another tattoo, hinted just to the right of his cock.

By this point, two or three men had earned a wad of cash jerking off -- not as much as James, mind you. And so far, knowing James, he hadn't shared just exactly how much he'd earned.

"So you want me to jerk off for a thou?" Jaggar said, a little too cocky for my taste.

"No," I said. "Please sit down. We will have something for you to do in a moment."

I then proceeded to ignore Jaggar for the next few men, two of whom smoked which meant they were dismissed summarily. The other didn't interest me, so he got a polite boot.

Tex, though, requested another audience.

When Tex stepped in the room this time, his cap came off. I almost laughed. Hat in hand, the phrase goes. And here, a stripped who likely earned a few thousand a night, would come to me and beg for it.

You could see his face, its strong lines of a man nearing his 30s. Still, the ripped muscles, so defined you could begin to see every fiber of his muscle. His face proved to be attractive enough and his wavy brown hair.

"I do apologize for ever offending you," he said. "I sometimes do get out of hand and, well, I can be a bit cocky."

"Jaggar," I said. "You want a drink?"

He looked stunned for a moment, knowing that the natural order of things here at Richard's flowed from Tex.

"Ummm, yea," he said. "Crown and cola."

Tex even looked a little stunned.

"You heard him, Tex," I commanded. As he rounded the corner, I yelled, "Oh, and you're not thirsty."

Jonathan giggled a little but I know he felt sorry.

Miguel, a Latin, rounded the corner next. This rico-suave hips rocketed to my hips. I'd met him briefly and found his body nothing short of intriguing.

"You do body training," I said.

"I do," he said, his Latin accent adding a lilt to the words.

"I might have use for you," I said, letting my eyes explore his body, enjoying how his each tattoo pattern surrounded his nipples or belly button. His dark hair rose like an uncontrolled flame from the top of his head and his green eyes betrayed an innocence.

Tex returned with Jaggar's drink.

"Miguel, what are you thirsty for?" I asked.

"Oh I don't drink," Miguel said, feigning no need.

"Then some water, how about that?" I said. "Tex, get us some bottled water."

"I'm all right," Miguel said.

"Oh it's not a problem," I said.

Tex stood for just a moment too long. "Chop chop."

* * *

Over the course of the next few hours, more men would come to join us. I would pay a few to jerk off but most entered and stayed or would enter and leave. Only Tex seemed to float back and forth. Apparently, the dancers had heard about my arrival that evening so with 60-plus working, most wanted a chance in front of me.

We'd barely dented the cast reserves by 1 a.m. when Jonathan spoke to 13 men including Jaggar, Miguel and Tex.

"First, in this envelope, you will find $2,500. You can take it and walk away. However, you have another option. In a few moments, you will be given an opportunity to spend the remainder of the weekend with Michael and each other. You will remain in the state of Georgia but you will need to leave all your personal belongings here -- that includes your cell phones. Early Monday morning, you will be returned here to pick up your belongings and go on with your normal lives. You will have no contact with the outside world during your time away."

"What's the pay?" One guy asked. I think his name was Vinny.

"At least $25,000 each with more possible." Jonathan said. "Michael will make a complete determination of your compensation. Interested?"

"Hell yea, I am," Jaggar chimed in.

Tex seemed a little reflective, "What are we signing up for?" he asked.

"A weekend away," Jonathan said.

"But this guy is paying more than $300,000 if you add everyone up in the room? I don't think we'll be playing cards," Tex said.

"Dude," Jaggar said. "Even your big, thick one can fuck my ass for that amount of cash."

"We will see if we can make that happen, Jaggar," I said.

"My name is Jason," he said. "At least, it's my real one."

"Sure thing, Jason," I said.

The room fell silent as the men contemplated their fate.

* * *

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* * *

In the end, twelve of the thirteen took the offer. Only one, with some lame excuse about how his stripper girlfriend wouldn't understand stepped away, taking the $2,500 and leaving. I left while most of the guys would follow in another vehicle, although I chose to take James and Jason/Jaggar with me in the H2.

Jonathan had made all the arrangements and the security detail knew the destination. Jonathan wouldn't even tell me. I found this detail interesting, but he asked me to trust him.

Gut instinct told me to trust Jonathan although something told me I failed to see the whole picture. This little adventure might prove to be more insightful than I could see at the moment for Jonathan.

As we pulled away from Swinging Richards a little after 2 a.m., I felt the weight of the time. My phone rang and checking it for the first time in a while, I noticed the missed calls.

"Deej, what's up?" I answered it, a little weary.

"Michael, thank God, Ste's been going bonkers," Deej said. "You've been off radar almost five hours."

"Off radar?" I responded. "What do you mean?"

"For security reasons, we track you to assure you're safe, but since we left you and Jonathan left the airport, Ste said there's been interference with the tracking signal. The satellites have been having trouble getting a pinpoint as to your location. Jonathan keeps telling him not to worry but he's been really worried."

"Nothing to worry about Deej," I tried to sound reassuring. About that moment, my phone beeped and I pulled it away from my ear to see Jonathan ringing through. "Hang on a moment." I hit the hold button and switched over to Jonathan. "Howdy, howdy."

"Are you talking to Deej or Ste?" Jonathan sounded frantic.

"Yes," I started.

"Throw your phone out the window," he said.

"What?"

"Michael, do as I say." Jonathan now spoke calmly. "Trust me."

"But it's Deej," I said.

"I'll make sure D.J. joins us shortly," Jonathan said. "Now do it."

I hit the button and tossed the iPhone. I guess there is an advantage of having cash.

* * *

James and Josh turned out to be decent companions for the ride of almost 15 minutes. We double backed but ended up at, of all places, Piedmont Hospital, which confused the hell out of me. When we arrive, I wondered what we were doing here. We pulled up to the Emergency Room entrance, met by doctors, nurses and three wheelchairs.

The whirlwind of attention that surrounded us seemed like some bizarre episode of a medical drama as we got whisked away down hallways and around corners into what I thought would be intensive care, but instead, we ended up in drab steel elevators that opened up to a heliport with an awaiting helicopter, its blades spinning already and wind whipping around us. In an H2 moments before, we were airborne now and on our way somewhere.

I never thought luxury helicopters existed, but they do, with leather seating and sound-proof interiors. We were above Atlanta in moments and in less than 20 minutes away from the lights of the city. Soon we were landing by a lake and were escorted to a lovely cottage where fruits and chocolates awaited us.

Alas, as much as I wanted to enjoy myself with two gorgeous men, I wanted sleep, and so I invited James and Jason to join me in one of the Master suites. James did while Jason explored. And I went to bed for sleep. Not sex.

I'll admit I snuggled up against his beautiful body, feeling every inch of it for a moment before drifting off. But being after 3 a.m. make sleep quite likely.

* * *

The scent of coffee along with the rambunctious sound of men woke me the next morning around 9:45. James, still naked next to me, smiled looking over.

"Hey sleepyhead," he said. "You snore."

"I do not," I said.

"Okay, you don't snore," he said. "You just breathe really loudly." He grabbed me playfully with a broad smile and pulled me close and did something he'd never done before in all the $20 lap dances and $220 pop-offs I'd paid for in the time prior to the previous night.

He kissed me.

James truly kissed me. Now, the straight boys at the bar rarely did that, although they certainly teased you with the promise of one. But they never, ever went in for one. I pulled away.

"Now that had to be gross," I said. "All that morning breath!"

"Not as bad as you'd think," James said. "I've kissed a guy before."

"I never doubted that," I responded. "I just think I have yucky morning breath."

"Believe me," James said. "It's not as bad as your snoring. But Jonathan says I'll get used to it."

"Jonathan is here?" I asked, looking around.

"Yea," he said, crawling out of bed and shaking off the sleep and pulling on some fresh shorts. I guess Jonathan had arranged for clothes for the guys. Well, shorts. Nothing more than that if he knew me. "He asked me to keep an eye on you. He's downstairs."

"Nice shorts," I said, noticing how little they left to the imagination.

"That's all we're supposed to wear, at least during the day," James said. "And you are king." He kissed me again. "Now brush your teeth and come downstairs."

I did brush my teeth. And I took a long piss. I have to admit after the selection process last night, I felt a little intimidated today knowing a dozen, mostly naked, incredibly hot men were downstairs waiting on me.

Then I thought about the phone. Where was Deej? What was going on?

After pulling myself together a bit, I realized the most attractive part of me probably was in those bags Jonathan had stowed away somewhere. I wandered downstairs and soon discovered I wore a lot more clothes than most others. In fact, James wore more. A vast majority of the men were completely nude. Some had already found the pool, still wet with towels around their neck.

"Morning, Michael," seemed to echo through the room with man after man coming up to me to kiss me on the cheek, slap my ass or offer some sort of affection. Across the great room, men lounged around playing pool or killing something alien on the large flat-screen television.

I now inhabited a frat house.

Jonathan appeared behind me with a chilled to the core Diet Coke.

"Good morning, Michael," he said, kissing me like James. "Hope you're well."

"I am," I said. "What's going on?"

"We're settling in," he said. "Would you like breakfast?"

"Maybe in a bit," I said. "How's Deej?"

"He's fine," he said, but with a tone I could tell was different. "He's in one of the other cottages, settling in."

"And Ste?" I asked.

"Ste is on another assignment," Jonathan said, this time with a coldness.

"Jonathan," I said, now with a seriousness. "What's going on?"

"Drink your Diet Coke," he said. "You're going to need it. The briefing team will be here at 10:30."

* * *

I went to join the men and enjoy the attention for a bit in the great room. I've got to admit, while Swinging Richard sure as hell could be fun, this beat the fuck out of it. In full daylight, with no competition, these men were competing for my attention. Dollar bills didn't need to appear in order to get their attention. And they weren't scanning the room. They saw one man. Me.

I liked that.

But soon enough, Jonathan came to get me and loaded me into a golf cart just outside the back door for a short ride to another cottage a few hundred yards away.

"I apologize for keeping you in the dark, Michael," Jonathan said, as the cart hummed along the route. "I had to be sure. I'm especially sorry for Deej. This is going to be tough on him. At least, it seem like it."

"Oh?" I said. "Explain."

"Best the Company team does," Jonathan said.

"Something bad I take it," I said.

"Another attempt, unfortunately," Jonathan said. "Good thing you dumped the phone when you did."

"Really?" I was shocked.

* * *

I stepped into the cottage and shook hands, including a Roland Oscarlat of the Company's Belgian division, and Roth Hansun, the CEO.

"Michael, I felt it important I meet with you personally this time," Roth said. "I must apologize for the additional breach in Company security."

"Additional breach?" I said, almost incredulous.

"Indeed," Roland said, in a heavy accent. "We likely would have missed it until it was too late had it not been for Jonathan and his attention to detail regarding Steven Hudson."

"Ste?" I looked baffled for a moment.

"Mr. Hudson apparently made three failed attempts on your life, the latest a stinger missile attack in downtown Atlanta," Roland said.

"WHAT?!" I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"I assure you, Michael, we have contained the problem and this will not occur again," Roth spoke deliberately.

"Roth," I said. "I need a moment to catch up here." I paused and motioned for the room to wait for me. The room remained quiet, which I appreciated. Roth, in his graying overabundance of hair, sat patiently while Roland shifted a little with his thinning dyed dark hair stared at me. His little eyes looked.

"Roth," I repeated myself. "I have barely done any work for the Company. Okay, truth is I haven't done shit. Yet people are trying to kill me. Why even bother to protect me?"

Roth studied me for a moment. He took a breath and then said, "I don't supposed I could tell you your potential is great?"

My eyes did not shift. "No."

Roth stood. "It's a beautiful day, Michael. Let's take a walk."

The room came alive with indistinguishable chatter as Roth led me to the door. I followed, knowing that security teams would soon be positioned throughout the grounds of wherever the fuck we were at this moment.

We stepped out into the morning sunlight, with the sounds of early spring in Georgia -- or at least I still thought I was still in Georgia. We walked toward the lake and around it for a bit. In silence, mostly. I let Roth choose the pace. I knew Roth had something to say, but I couldn't begin to figure out what he would say.

He stopped in the shade of a pine, the sun behind him, crouching a little and picking up some twig of something with which to fidget with his thick fingers.

"You were adopted," Roth said.

Almost in an instant, I knew a thousand directions where this could go.

"Yes," I said simply.

"I am your uncle," he said simply. "And your Grandfather -- my Father -- was a very influential part of the Company's history."

He paused again, and then spoke deliberately.

"Your Father -- that is, your birth parent -- died too early and your birth Mother blamed the Company for his death. She attempted to shield you from us and we, for the most part, allowed you to remain apart from the Company. But your skills make you recruit material for any of the large conglomerations. The Company would be neglectful if we did not make a play for you."

Roth quieted for a moment. This still did not explain my value.

"You're not speaking."

"You're not done," I said.

"You're right," he said. "Your Grandfather passed away two months ago. He did not leave any of his shares of the Company to me, knowing we were about to recruit. He left it all to you. You find it out at the Board Meeting."

"Okay," I said. "That actually gives you more of a reason to kill me, Roth."

"True," Roth said. "Except you aren't aware that you have another Uncle. I have a brother. Technically, a half-brother."

"Ah." I said. "So which of you want to commit nephew-cide."

Roth chuckled. "While I enjoy my position, I have never been the ambitious one. The Company isn't about ruling with an iron fist. I think of it more like the conductor's baton. We finesse the world to our music. My brother isn't quite so subtle."

"And his name is..." I said.

"Louis," Roth said. "My older brother, so he technically has more shares by just a few. Your shares would have been split equally between us in your death so he would become majority owner and could force me out as CEO."

"So that's how he could get to Ste," I said.

"And get to the attorney," he said. "And get a stinger missile launch from the Atlantic. We're particularly impressed with that one, especially using an iPhone signal. Jonathan did a good job jamming you signal that we use to track you."

"Obviously," I said.

"He's a keeper, if I may say so," Roth said. "I'm not gay, but even I would fuck him."

I started to laugh, which seemed to be the only thing I could do.

"What about D.J.?" I asked.

"Security is making sure he's clean," Roth said. "That's why I brought in the Belgian team. I trust Roland. But he's rather shaken. We're also shaking down everyone on your security detail as well as other candidates in the Personal Assistant Corp. It might be a while before everything is back to normal."

Roth stood and tossed the twig into the water.

"And what about Louis?"

"You will meet your Uncle next week," Roth said.

"You're not going to oust him?" I said.

"No," Roth said, turning around to face me. "Welcome to the family and to the Company."

* * *

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* * *

The Company: Chapter Six

2010-03-22T02:07:00.001-04:00

I leaned back in my lush leather chair, staring out over the Persian Gulf from my perch in the Burj Al Arab while the young Arab attempted a blow job. Considering the oral work I'd experienced over the last week from Deej, Jonathan and even Ste, I'd never cum with this boy's work.

"How old are you?" I asked.

"I make you cum," he repeated. He had said this several times since arriving and removing all his clothes, his brown skin smooth, his muscles taught and his body lightly scented of coconut oil. No. Not coconut oil. It wasn't that sweet.

I pulled him to his feet, his uncut cock, standing erect and leaking, but he never touched it. It barely had a spray of hair around it. "What is your age? How many years do you have?" I asked.

"Oh," he said with recognition. "Do not worry, sir, I am good for you. You like to fuck?"

He turned around and showed me a perfect ass, his hole seeming perfect and virginal. But for some reason, something didn't quite add up to me. I knew I was in a Muslim country and, while I'd violated the laws with Americans and British nationals, I just didn't think depositing my DNA in an underaged local would behold me to this country I'd arrived in just the night before.

I pushed him off. "Go to my bedroom." I slapped his ass. I looked again over the Persian Gulf, admiring the blue tone of the water, wondering if indeed I should be in this place now.

I'd been deposited here the night before at the sailboat shaped hotel best known in Dubai along the coastline. The Burj Al Arab indeed seemed luxurious but I'd had my fill of luxury and hopscotching around the world with stops in London, Paris and Frankfurt before ending here.

No work, few answered questions and plenty of sex. For some people, that would seem heavenly. Indeed, I enjoyed it. But no access to a computer and I'd become bored with sex, DVD movies and the isolation. In fact, I'd had yet to meet other candidates. Questions regarding them were avoided. Ste, as my so-called "head of security," seemed to avoid questions by seducing me.

The first time, I'll admit, a little curiosity to seeing if this ginger had fiery red pubes. I found them more strawberry blond, but against his pale skin, the contrast proved to be substantially noticeable. He also packed substantial heat in a massively thick uncut monster running close to ten inches. He easily had the largest cock on a non-porn performer I'd ever seen.

His hairless and smooth body just seemed beautiful, but his pink nipples poked out so damn far and, with the lightest touch, I could set him off easily. Ste turned out to be just a lot of fucking fun in bed. He didn't check his sense of humor at the door and I didn't have to either. I'd crack jokes and he'd get my humor, as dry and twisted as it could be.

Still, I felt abandoned in this hotel suite, so I wandered downstairs to the stark office area, cleared of any computer. I checked the stocked kitchen and wandered around a bit, again, staring off at the aqua waters of this Dubai day.

Did people swim in these waters? I wondered.

I'd had enough.

I walked calmly to the door of my suite and opened it, finding the two men from my security detail standing outside. "Hi, could you have Roth call me. And Ste too. And get me a cheeseburger, double cheddar, ground sirloin, medium well, lettuce, tomato, mayo and ketchup only. Onion rings too. Make them crispy. Diet Coke. Cold. You have 10 minutes to get me Roth. Twenty for the cheeseburger."

I shut the door. I didn't slam.

Ste was there in eight. He'd been sleeping, wearing a t-shirt with a jacket now over it to conceal whatever weapons he carried and jeans. But barefeet.

As Ste tried to explain how difficult it would be to get Roth on the phone, Deej came in with a cart with my burger. It was early as well, running at 15 minutes. I inspected it.

"It's got mustard on it," I said. "Make another."

I knew I was sounding like a bitch, but I was about to really sound bitchy. Deej didn't offer an excuse but turned around, covered the plate back up and began to walk out when I dropped the big bomb.

"How long have you two been in love?"

Deej stopped and didn't turn around. Ste now wasn't ginger. He was red. "What?"

"How long?"

Deej began to turn and deny, "Michael we're not..."

"D.J.," I started. "Don't try to fuck around with a fucker."

"It's explicitly against protocol for members of Personal Assistant Corp to have relationships with other staff members," Ste quoted. "And as a member of the security detail, it's imperative I remain impartial and uninvolved."

"Yet here we are," I said. I sat back confidently. "Scrape the mustard off, Deej. I'll survive."

Deej seemed to recover with Ste's stone-cold security face.

"Michael, you have no evidence to suggest that there's an alleged affair between myself and anyone, including D.J.," Ste said, his arms bulging as he crossed them in front of him, still very calm.

"Nothing except your confessions," I said. "Which I will expect within the next five minutes or we will have problems."

Deej had finished scraping and had pushed the cart my way. I took it and opened the small catchup bottle to mask the mustard.

"Now why would we confess to any such thing?" Ste practically laughed.

"Why?" Deej seemed to be getting some courage.

I'd finished applying catchup and took my first bite of the burger. I let the question hang in the air as I savored the first bite.

"Who would think you could get cheddar cheese this good in Dubai?" I said, my mouth half full. "I wonder if they'd had bacon if I'd requested it?" I finished that bite. Then I said....

"First, I can guarantee that at least one of you has the DNA of the other in your asshole. Of course, that takes time. But the fact one of you got fucked recently is interesting proof since I didn't do it in the last forty-eight hours."

"And while you two have done extremely well in avoiding being in the same room with one another, you do end up in the same room as one another. I notice it when it happens. I sense the electricity. And the avoidance. How you both avoid eye contact.

"Since Jonathan stayed in Germany to get his girl fix -- another not very cool thing -- you two decided to indulge your thing?" I said. "So you left me alone with the illegal upstairs? How much did he cost, Ste?"

They sat in silence.

"Ste, how much?"

"Twenty thousand euros."

"For a virgin?"

"Oh no," he said. "That started at fifty thousand. I got a slightly used model."

"How old is he?" I asked.

"He's 15," Ste said

"Try 13," I said. "Or 12. Not my style. At least Deej would have known that."

I went back to eating my sandwich, which did turn out to be quite tasty. Silence lingered until someone spoke up.

"You still have no evidence," Ste protested.

I finished another bite. "You both have avoided being in the room with one another, even since the flight from New York."

"That's no evidence."

I paused, ate the last of my sandwich, used the napkin and pushed the cart away. I looked at Deej, straight into his eyes. "Tell me you do not love Ste. Tell me you are not in love with Ste. Tell me it doesn't bother you to think of Ste having sex with other men. Tell me that you don't dream of his huge cock inside your ass, or him kissing you or his huge arms around you."

Deej stared back at me and didn't say anything.

"You have no evidence," Ste said again.

I continued to stare at Deej but spoke directly at Ste, "You aren't denying it, Ste. You're just saying I don't have evidence. So shut the fuck up while I talk to DJ."

Deej looked around the room and then back at me.

"We didn't mean for it to happen," he said.

"Of course not," I said.

"Deej!" Ste protested.

"Ste, if there's one thing I know, he's not stupid," Deej motioned to me.

"Yea, but you might not get the position with him," Ste said.

"All right, you two," I said. "Just shut up for a moment."

I stood up and walked around. I was done being a passenger on this little ride. Things were about to change and change drastically.

"Gentlemen," I began. "Ever since this started and I began working for the Company, we have been all over, never staying one place long and making it difficult for me to figure out what's going on. Don't worry, the sex has been phenomenal. Well, all of it except for the boy today. Ste, keep in mind that I do prefer men."

I stared at him, probably a little too long.

"Please have that young man well compensated, removed from this lifestyle until he's a more suitable age. I never want to see him again."

I took a deep breath. I paced. Something I tend to do, but I do have to admit a little pain in what I was about to say.

"Deej, I'll have to admit I was growing to like you," I said. "Your position with me was pretty much a lock. I almost thought I was feeling something for you, but, I knew something there held you back. I sensed it. I should probably be grateful considering I shouldn't really be involved with an employee."

"Ste, I can't have you protecting me if you care more for a member of my team than me," I continued. "As a security professional, you surely can recognize that my protection could be compromised. So this puts us all into a very awkward situation."

The pause I added here was for dramatic effect. And as I would look up and appear to begin my next statement, I would stop, pause and then appear to reconsider. A sham, indeed.

"I am just not sure how I can trust either one of you to take care of me, my needs and assure my security and privacy," I said.

Now, my next maneuver required a little more acting than I was used to. I hate Glen Beck, but the halting staccato and breaking tone would be needed. Maybe I could even muster a tear.

"I have been..." break, pause, look at floor, cover mouth... "put into hotels and..." look at ceiling, cock head, close eyes and breathe deeply... "locked away from the world. I cannot tell what's really going on." Look down, pause, flutter eyes and look intensely. "Am I a prisoner? Do I have freedom? Are you keeping me captive?"

"No, Michael, no!" Deej spit out. Good, it was working on DJ. Ste looked confused. Perhaps he was still on the confession I'd extracted already or the motivation. I'd not began any blackmail, implied or otherwise. Likely, he'd never hear one. If he kept in line.

"Then why am I in Dubai? When do I get to work? When do I meet more candidates? Where's Jonathan? Why can't I speak to Roth?"

"Jonathan's on his way from Germany," Deej said.

"He had to sleep with a girl," I said.

"Well, he needed to complete some paperwork," Deej said.

"Deej," I snapped. "The truth."

Deej saw the seriousness. "He does have a female he occasionally sleeps with, yes. I believe he had an engagement with."

"She was more important than me?"

"Never Michael," Deej said. "It was just a convenience."

"Where is Jonathan now?"

"I don't know," Deej said.

"Ste?" I said. I knew the security guy knew where everyone in my entourage would be.

"He lands in about 30 minutes," he said.

"I will speak with him privately as soon as he get here," I said. "Now the rest of my questions."

"We feel," Ste began, "the security threat warrants considerable movement to keep others off your trail until sufficient cover has been determined and you are safe."

"I appreciate that," I said. "The other candidates?"

"They're being interviewed to determine if any of them may have provided access to the opposition to attack you," Ste said.

"Fine, but I would like one at the next destination and I would like to choose the next destination," I said.

Ste looked shocked, "We would advise against this."

"We can go to hell, Ste," I said. "Who is ultimately in charge here?" Ste again looked a little confused. "I mean here, on the ground, in Dubai?"

A little clarity crossed his face. "You are, sir."

"As a ranking member of the Company Board, you better fucking believe it, Ste," I said. "I'm not sure one of your bulldogs outside isn't giving away our position right now. So here's what you're going to do, Ste. Choose two of those men you trust the most. Then bring me the rest of them. Do you understand?"

"I'll need to clear this with the home office," Ste said.

"No, you won't," I said. "Just get me a secure line to Roth."

I stopped pacing and began up the stairs. Then I remembered. "Oh right," I said. "The boy is still up there. I'll wait down here until you get rid of him."

* * *

My call with Roth didn't last long and he supported my plan immediately. "Not surprised that you're taking the bull by the horns," Roth said. "Security had plans to move you to at least two more cities over the next week."

"Fuck that," I said. "I'll keep you updated."

"Great," Roth said. "Enjoy getting to know your staff."

"I am."

The phone clicked and I turned around to see Jonathan with a smile on his face, approaching me for a hug. I held my hand up and showed my anger.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't ship your ass back to New York or wherever the fuck you came from?" I asked.

"Why?" he looked deflated.

"You seriously stayed in Frankfurt for pussy?" I said. "Is this what's going to happen to me if I choose you for my Personal Assistant? You're going to disappear from my side every city we visit to get some strange?"

"I'm sorry, I told you," he tried to lie. "I had some paperwork to complete."

"Her name is Katarina Walger," I said, "You've been fucking her for about 17½ months. You met her at a bar, I believe the Künstlerkeller after going to the opera with one of your previous assignments that was about to end. You've visited with her at least 11 times."

Jonathan stared at me, his mouth agape. Then he regained his composure.

"Applause to you," he said. "I didn't even take you a week to begin working the Company resources to your advantage."

"Jonathan, I'm not stupid," I said. "I figured out you had a woman in port there But abandoning me my first week. Not cool."

"I am sorry about Michael," he said. "I did think you were in good hands with Deej."

"Well, that's not working out either," I said. "I'm not choosing you as my Personal Assistant. You can return too the U.S."

"Now wait a minute, we don't need to be hasty about it," he said, pushing toward me as I turned away and walked toward the kitchen.

"I'm not being hasty," I said. "You made your choice. I made mine."

"But I was horny, I'm sorry. I just wanted a little, you know..." his voice trailed off.

"Maybe I did too," I said. "But you weren't here."

"I won't let it happen again," he said.

"Jonathan," I said. "We're incompatible. You will never come to me when you're horny. You'll always go to Katarina and Jennifer and Lissa and Rebekka and Krista." I named off the other names Ste had supplied to me regarding the regular fucks Jonathan had in the cities around the world -- at least the ones he'd frequented in the last six months. "Then there's, ooo, what's her name... Liz and Jessie and Darcy and Kai." More names, but not as frequent.

He stood silent.

"You cannot resign women," I said. "You cannot dedicate yourself to me. I don't think you have a loyal bone in your body. I think you lie and lie a lot."

"But you don't understand," the way Jonathan said this, it sounded like he was about to cry. At the edge of a modular sofa, he collapsed on the corner and put his head in his hands. Maybe he was crying.

"What don't I understand," I stopped, turned around and faced him, my arms crossed.

"This is my last potential PAC assignment," he said. "I can't go back into the Corp. I'm too old for consideration."

"So, it's not my problem," I said. "You fucked it up."

"Oh my God, I really did fuck it up!" he whispered, laying his head back and covering his eyes. He shook a little, as if he was crying.

Just where I needed him. I needed him here, in this vulnerable state. I wasn't sure if it would work, but I wanted to give it a try.

"I really would do anything for you to give me a second chance," he said.

"But I've already done everything I've wanted," I said. "You just aren't that loyal."

"I am," he said. "I can be really loyal."

"You want to prove that," I said.

"Yes," he said.

I pulled out the paper and pen. "Then you need to write this down...."

* * *

Dubai was hot. It was nice to leave it. It almost felt familiar to board the flight on Delta. I'd enjoyed the private jets and avoiding all the security, but now I needed to move normally through crowds.

I'd altered my appearance a little but not that much... shorter hair, different glasses. I'd insisted some similar changes from my team. Ste didn't like the lack of firearms by his team, but I pointed out the even playing field on the flight would make it fine. I booked us all in first class and made sure everyone surrounded me, to give Ste some sense of control.

He found my choice of destination an odd choice, although Deej and Jonathan didn't. I sent the other seven candidates all over the country and hoped that if there was another kill team headed anywhere, they'd follow one of them. With more security details fanning out as well, it became a "Where's Waldo?" effort to determine where I might show up next.

I'm not a security effort, but I'll be damned if I'm going to go into hiding and not have some fucking fun.

Almost 24 hours later, an exhausted group of us checked into the villas at the Grand Floridian on the grounds of Walt Disney World. Ste's packages of firearms arrives just about the time of my massage.

He was about 24, tanned and slight with the name Kevin. A "Disney" freelance employee, I knew as soon as we met, I'd get what I wanted. While I knew I could get what I needed sexually from pretty much anyone in the room, I needed the stress release of a good, legit massage too.

We found my bedroom and he set up my table. I closed my doors, locked them. Kevin worked professionally and quietly to get started. In his tight white polo and incredible white cotton pants, his ass burst as the seams. He had one helluva bubble butt.

"Do you take gratuities?" I asked, innocently, enough.

"We do," he said. "But only feel obligated if you feel you received extraordinary service."

"How can I be certain you provide extraordinary service?" I said.

"I always attempt to," he said, seeming to ignore my hint.

"How long is the massage?"

"We usually allow up to 90 minutes but occasionally, for extreme cases, we will go two hours," he said.

"I've been on a plane for almost 24 hours," I said.

"That seems extreme enough," he said, laughing. The table was set up and about ready.

"You can get undressed and just get under here," he said, motioning to blanket.

"Oh, I won't need the blanket," I said. And before he could say anything, "How much gratuity would it take for me to get you to get undressed too."

"Oh I don't do that," he said, then he turned around and saw what I had in my hand. The wad of hundreds stopped him silently. "I am not a cop. Are you gay?" I asked. He nodded. "So am I. I will not speak of this."

I counted out $10,000. "This is ten thousand dollars. It is yours if you get naked, if you get off and if I get off and if you make it the best damn massage ever. Will that work?"

He just started. He seemed a little shocked. I added another twenty bills.

"Okay, How about $12,000?"

"Yes..." he stuttered. "I could get fired though."

"Fuck, take the whole thing. That's twenty thousand. Then you don't have to worry if you do get fired. But you won't. I plan on being here two weeks. If you're good, I'll have you back. And yes, I'll give you another $20K."

A pregnant pause. Then Kevin began removing his clothes. I found out he was 26 years old. His chest wasn't well developed, seeming to have this lovely layer of baby fat that caused his pecs to form points to where his nipples pointed out. In the valley between them, a small trail of brown and blond hair spread then sprinkled down to his belly button. It thickened until it was a mound of pubes surrounding a thick, stubby but cut six-inch cock. Nice enough. It seemed to match his meaty, muscular hands. His legs were covered with short, curly blond hair but his ass seemed perfectly smooth and quite honestly bubbly. His crack showed signs of hair.

I got undressed too and laid down. He got the oil started and worked on my back. Liberally applying the scented oils and working it into my shoulders, finding those nooks and crannies where my muscles carry all their tensions.

I told Kevin to be liberal and not afraid of anything and everything, so it impressed me when it came time to work on my lower back how he climbed up on me and sat, his own cock, which pointed out perpendicular from his body resting in the crack of my ass. He really dug into my lower back and would lean forward toward my upper back. Every time, his cock would connect more into my buns. A kind of electricity would go off. I just laid there and arched my back a little until the head of his cock connected with my hole.

I sucked in air and when I exhaled, my hole opened up and accepted that thick head. He continued his massage, scooting forward just a little with every stroke up and down my back. That slow machination worked his thick cock into my hole deeper and deeper... something I didn't expect. But I liked it. I liked it a lot. As his massage progressed, he laid on me, our bodies slicked with the oils and sweats and he rubbed me all over and pressed us together, until my hole didn't seem so incredibly tight.

His swift movements suddenly seized and then I felt it. I felt him inside me. I felt him throb. I felt his wetness. I felt his cum shoot into my hole. My hole, once so tight, only a little sweat and oil that let us move a little now had a lot more lube. His cum. His cum was inside me.

He stopped moving for a moment and recovered. Then returned to the more traditional massage moves. Eventually, he asked me to turn over.

He got my legs good and arms. Then finally, as he worked around my balls, he grabbed the oils and worked my cock good. I closed my eyes and leaned back, only to feel him stop touching me. When I opened them, he was lowering his ass onto my cock. He rode me raw. He took my cock like I took his and I shot my load into his ass, breeding him full of my cum.

I came with great intensity and while I recovered, he cleaned me up and finished the massage. It had been heavenly.

"We're not done," he said. "I'll give you the other half after breakfast."

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The Company: Chapter Five

2010-03-15T23:57:00.001-04:00

My dreams weren't sexual, probably because I'd been satisfied. My life as it had been so far... my Mother, my former boyfriends, my middle-class life and my money troubles. Strangely enough, I slept without waking once or even noticing I slept between two of the hottest men ever. I guess I was tired.

I woke alone. The room still dark. I lay still, considering what had happened and wondered if it had. But I was naked in a strange bed so it must have. I wondered where Deej and Jonathan had gone. Yet, I didn't want to exhibit any dependence on either.

The urgent call from my bladder finally prompted me to climb out of bed and find the bathroom. Still a gray day, I didn't notice the time but honestly didn't care. After relieving myself, I climbed into the shower and stood under the hot rainfall stream and jets. Finally soaping up after my muscles loosened a little, I bathed thoroughly and enjoyed this luxurious experience. I stepped out and grabbed a plush bath towel and let the thirsty cloth do its work and wandered into the bedroom.

The closets did not hold my luggage but it did hold clothes that seemed to match my basic size. Of course, the clothing proved to be a bit of an upgrade in brand names. I chose Ralph Lauren Polo with a bit casual look, not sure when the corporate attorneys would be by. I went ahead and slipped on socks and leather loafers before stepping outside the bedroom.

When I entered the living room, Jonathan stood shirtless in athletic shorts eating cereal of some sort, looking at the flat-screen television that played CNN. "Morning hot stuff," he crossed over to me and kissed me on the lips with his milky mouth. "You slept well!"

"Did I?" I smiled, after returning his kiss and tasting the raisin brain. "What time is it?"

"Around 11:15," he said. "Deej ran down to the gym. I just got back. And the Company Legal Department asked me to call when you woke up."

"I need a Diet Coke," I said, not really acknowledging his list.

Jonathan slurped from his bowl, finishing up his cereal. "I'll grab one for you." He disappeared into the what I guessed was a kitchen. I sat on the sofa and stared at a commercial for Toyota, promising to fix its latest recall problems. I looked around for the remote, noticing it finally on the back of the sofa.

The familiar sound of a can opening greeted me as Jonathan rounded the corner and plopped down next to me, handing me the perfectly chilled Diet Coke. I drank as he looked at me instead of the television.

"What?" I looked at him.

"I really enjoyed last night," he said.

"Oh come on," I said.

"I did!" he said. "What will it take for me to convince you that I like getting fucked?"

I almost spit a little Diet Coke out but managed to suck it back in. "It will take a while for me to figure that one out, Jonathan." In the darkness, I'd felt his skin, but now I could see his absolute perfection of every muscle. Even as he sat forward, his ab muscles were perfectly outlined. A very light treasure trail pointed down to his belly button. His nipples sat perfectly in the middle lower portion of his gigantic beefy pecs. And now I could see both arms, his guns with perfectly symmetrical bands of knots. Indeed, Jonathan's beefy body was nothing less than breathtaking, even if he was straight.

And he was. As we sat here, my gaydar sensed nothing in the room. My stomach didn't churn. I wasn't nervous. No sexual tension gripped me.

"Mark, I actually like you and I want to get to know you better," he reached toward my hand and attempted to hold it. But it felt awkward at best. "I really want the opportunity to serve you the way you should be served."

"I get that, Jonathan," I said. I took in a deep breath and then I explained the absence of him from my gaydar. How, for all his good looks, he just didn't grip me sexually.

"But you grip me sexually," he said. He stood, tucked his thumbs into his waistband and chucked his shorts down. His thick eight-incher popped up and bobbed in place. I started to think it was some ongoing boner-enhancing drug that allowed him to get hard. And as if he read my mind, he got on his knees in front of me, leaning forward and whispering, "And no, I didn't take any little blue pill or any pill of any color."

He unbuckled my belt. I couldn't resist since I'd been sporting a boner for a bit, studying his body and figuring out why I just didn't feel tension from this straight man. Even strippers at night clubs could get my attention when they were straight. I stood, he yanked down my pants and underwear, going right for my cock. His slobbery mouth juiced me up quickly. It seemed now he knew that oral just wasn't his skill because almost as soon as it began, it abruptly ended.

He laid back and jacked his ankled in the air, pulling me closer, his hole at the end of the sofa, allowing me to fuck his ass for the second time in about 12 hours.

As I entered him, his ass had obviously returned to its original tightness, gripping my cock. His eyes were closed in a sexual joy as he pulled me slowly into his body, his mouth open just a touch and opening farther with every millimeter that my cock invaded.

"Fuck yea," he said, as I buried my cock and pushed to make sure it made it all the way in. "Fuck me and breed me!" he growled.

I did just that. No pretense of love, tenderness or kindness. I just used his hole as a jerk-off tool and used his body as jerk-off candy. As I got close, I contemplated stealthing him and not mentioning cumming, but Jonathan got more vocal.

"Cum in my ass," he said. "Please, Sir, use this straight boy ass for your pleasure. Show this breeder what I'm missing. Breed the breeder! Fuck yea Sir!"

I decided to announce, "I'm going to shoot, man!" And I was getting close. Again, his ass just clenched around my hard cock as I moved in and out.

"Fucking spunk my ass, bud!" Jonathan said. "Fill me up and make me your faggot! Make me your cunt boy!"

I did. I grunted and let my load loose, filling his tight hole with my cum.

Breathing hard, I pushed it in deeper and then I pulled out and stood. He dove, going right for my cock and licking it clean, using his mouth to get rid of every drop.

"MMMMmmmmmmmmmmmm," he expressed. "So fucking tasty!"

Jonathan then reached between his legs, stuck his middle finger up his ass, pulled it out, coated with some of my sperm. Jonathan then sucked it into his mouth. "Damn that's good!"

I grabbed my pants and pulled them up. "I'm glad you enjoy," I said. "But that doesn't change things."

"We'll see," he said. "I'm off to shower."

* * *

The Corporate Attorney looked like one, balding and stiff. He seemed a little uncomfortable and, to be honest, that didn't set me at ease. Setting before me a stack of papers and insisting I begin signing.

"Look, I just need some time to understand what I'm getting into," I said.

"Mr. Bentson," the attorney said. "These are standard formalities for the Company. We just need your signature on these...."

"Hi Mark," Deej said, entering the dining room, obviously from his workout. He wore a sleeveless athletic shirt and shorts with tennis shoes. "I see the attorney made it here. Where's Mark's advocate?"

"Mr. Bentson just needs to sign these papers," the attorney began again.

"You must be new with the Company," Deej snapped. "Every new employee is hired an advocate to explain the paperwork. Basically their own attorney."

"But," the attorney said.

"Who are you?" Deej asked.

The attorney's eyes darted around the room, "I'm the Company attorney, Martin Gossimer."

"Mr. Gossimer, how long have you been working for Company's legal counsel, Kevin Fletcher?"

Martin's eyes narrowed as he reached toward his briefcase with a little attitude, "I've been working for Fletcher for two months...."

Deej moved swiftly, in a way I'd never seen. He screamed one word, "Breech!" jumped with a tackle across the glass table pushing Gossimer and his chair over. Then I saw the "paperwork" that the attorney pulled from his briefcase -- a nine-millimeter semiautomatic, that slid across the floor as the toppled chair along with Gossimer and Deej landed.

A swarm of activity as suited me filled the room, all with guns drawn. They wore clear earpieces with the accordion wire into their collars. Even Jonathan darted into the room with his own gun, looked like a Glock of some sort, pulling me aside. People stood between me and Deej and Gossimer. For all the activity, I couldn't decipher everything that was going on.

"Come on Mark," Jonathan said. "It's not safe here. We're moving you."

"What about Deej?" I asked.

About that moment, he stepped out from between the men that seemed to surround me. "I'm fine," Deej said. "Don't worry. I've just got some paperwork to fill out. I'll join you soon."

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"We'll talk about that in a minute," Jonathan said, guiding me to the elevator.

* * *

I certainly wasn't shaken, even when Jonathan explained that the Gossimer character wasn't a Company attorney and was there, in fact, to kidnap or kill me. They were apparently attempting to interrogate the man now as we drove away in a caravan of dark SUVs with blue lights. Indeed, was I being escorted like some sort of diplomat?

"How did Deej know?" I asked.

"Company legal counselor's name is Crystal Von Luris," Jonathan explained.

"Ahhhh!" I said. "But how did everyone know so fast?"

"Deej and I both have secure communication channels embedded," he said. "State-of-the-art. By the way, the real Gossimer is dead and so is the advocate who should have been with him. Just found their bodies."

"Dead?" I said. "Over me?"

"Mark," Jonathan said. "The business of the Company is cut-throat. Literally."

A phone rang and Jonathan pulled it out of his shorts, "Yes?" Pause. "Yes sir." Pause. "He's all right sir" Pause. "Just a moment, sir." Jonathan thrust the phone at me.

I took it and held it to my ear, "Hello?"

"Mark, my good man, I'm sorry for the scare," I recognized the CEO's voice immediately. Roth and I had spent a long evening together at the beginning of the process. His voice had a deep baritone with almost a radio broadcaster quality. "We're cleaning up the mess. But in the meantime, we'd like to move you to a more secure location."

"I appreciate that Roth, but why attack me?" I asked.

"It's complicated," he said. "The Company makes its enemies. We're determining who's behind this. We don't think you were specifically targeted. But certainly, we made a mistake with your induction being in New York. I hope you don't mind if we fly you to another city."

"Of course not," I said.

"Excellent," he said. "I'll meet with you soon."

The phone went dead. He'd hung up. We also were making a turn.

"Mark," Jonathan said. "Have you ever been on a helicopter?"

"Nope," I said.

"You're about to get on one," he said. "We're headed to the East 34th Heliport."

* * *

The whirlybird experience turned out to be brief as we crossed the city and ended up at Teterboro, N.J. Again, black SUVs with men in dark suits escorted me into a hanger. Jonathan kept me company, sort of. He paid a lot of attention to what was going on. Inside the hanger, I sat in the SUV for a while as they readied the plane, or so I was told. Eventually, we the rear hanger doors opened and in rolled a plane.

Now, let's just say I'm not exactly familiar with corporate jets. I've never personally flown one. In fact, the closest I've gotten to one would have to be the puddle jumpers into smaller cities. This, however, did not appear to be a small plane.

"Is that a Company plane?" I asked.

"Yes, it is," Jonathan said. "It's a Boeing Business Jet. They're getting everything ready to go."

"Everything?" It baffled me.

"Obviously, we're beefing up your security detail," Jonathan said. "Some of the other candidates were here to meet you. And I think they're going to send your induction team too. It will be another hour before they're all here."

"What about Deej?" I asked.

"He's on his way," Jonathan said.

"I'm a little hungry," I finally admitted.

"Shit!" Jonathan said. "I bet you are. Sorry man. I've been so wrapped up in the security situation." He pressed a finger behind his right ear, "ETA on nourishment for Mercury."

I didn't hear a response, but after a moment, Jonathan looked clearly at me, "They're getting you a candy bar for now. A late lunch will be served once we're underway on the flight."

"Where are we flying to?" I asked.

"I'm not certain," he said. "They're keeping radio silence. It's standard protocol after a breech not to notify where an executive is being moved. This has been unusual, to say the least."

"Well, it certainly figures into whether I take the job," I said.

"Oh, this stuff is rare," Jonathan tried to downplay. "You have nothing to worry about."

"Are you fucking kidding?" I said. "I absolutely want the job now! I like having security around me if people are going to kill or kidnap me. I have no fucking idea why anyone would find me of value. Seriously."

"You'd be surprised," Jonathan said. "By the way, you might want to start thinking about a new name."

"Huh?" I said.

"Obviously, whoever is after you knows who you are, Mark," Jonathan said. "When we all start at the Company, we leave our previous identity behind. It will make it easier if you ever return to New York. You won't be Mark Bentson. Mark Bentson will cease to exist."

"Are you saying I will have a different name?" God, sometimes even I'm dense.

"Yes," Jonathan said. "My parents didn't name me Jonathan. I chose the name. You get to choose this one too. Normally, you'd be given more time to choose, but with the security breech, I imagine they'll want to go ahead and get your new identity established. Thought you might like to get sta..." Jonathan paused. "We'll be boarding the plane in two minutes."

The outer doors to the hanger had closed and the jet had powered down. The door had opened and a stairway had been rolled up to the open door. A group of four men exited one of the vehicles and swarmed into the plane.

"They're just verifying it's clear," Jonathan said. "And Deej is on his way."

I looked a little confused. "I don't even hear the radio you're listening to Jonathan," I said.

"Ninety seconds," he said. "That's because it's embedded in my inner ear and about the size of a grain of sand. The latest in aural communication technology." He paused again. "Sixty."

The men in the front of the SUV got out as well as the men in the trailing vehicle. They surrounded our SUV, most on the left side, closest to the plane. "We'll be going out this side," Jonathan said, pointing to the obvious.

One of the men that had searched the plane stepped out onto the stairs and made a hand signal. "Twenty," Jonathan said. "Move swiftly. Walk fast or jog. Don't run." Pause. "Ready?"

I nodded and he popped the door open.

The brisk walk in the damp air under the hanger lights seemed weird. All these men surrounding me. I just wasn't used to the security detail around me. Jonathan lead up the stairs and entered ahead, gun drawn the entire time. But nothing happened.

* * *

"Obviously, they didn't send an experienced professional," Deej said, as we sat at the table in the leather-bound swivel chairs. Jonathan had gone back to change into regular street clothes. Company Attorney Keiler Thompson and Inductee Advocate Jeff Hudson sat with us as the situation was explained. We'd taken off moments ago, just after DJ had boarded the plane.

"Mark," Keiler started. "I do apologize that this occurred."

"It's not a problem," I responded. "You lost colleagues today."

"Yes we did," Jeff said. "But still, it's careless for us to lose situational awareness. You'll be trained in all this soon."

"So let's get this started," said Keiler.

Over the course of the next hour, basics were explained. My name change came up as well as a lot of legal stuff that I'm not allowed to disclose to anyone about anything. We finally got to compensation, which turned out to be a weekly income of $3.23 million split into my off shore accounts, none of which I ever needed to use because everything I did was considered "business expense," including housing and transportation. My job would be Public Influence, with details once I started work at the office, which I got to choose the location.

Dinner arrived. Deej had long ago excused himself to another part of the plane. I'd asked a few times where we were going but no one had answered me directly. The meal felt good and I finally got to thinking more clearly.

After Jeff asked a few questions and we had a brief conversation, I signed all the paperwork. An electronic fingerprint reader took my biometrics of my hand, the attorney also scanned my iris and retina with a small device. I also chose my new name.

I left Jeff and Kieler to wander back and explore the rest of this plane. I knew Deej and Jonathan weren't the only ones on board.

"Hi, Michael," the red-head said in a British accent as I entered the next cabin. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help but hear your choice."

"Huh?" I said.

"Your new name," he stood. Taller than me, probably around six-five, the red-headed man stood, his broad shoulders so wide, it could block out the sun. "I'm Ste. Actually, I'm Steven, but us Brits tend to shorten to Ste." He extended his hand. I shook it.

"Pleased to meet you, Ste," I said.

"Indeed, Michael," he said. "You'll get used to the name change. I like it. It fits you well."

"Well, my Mother almost named me Michael," I said.

"What about the middle and last names?" Ste asked, sitting down and motioning to one of the other seats in this small cabin. I took the chair, even though I wanted to check on Deej.

"Favorite movie?" I said meekly.

"You like 'Nightmare on Elm Street'?" Ste seemed to laugh. His British lilt almost tickled my ear.

"There you are, I thought I heard you," Jonathan came through the curtain separating the middle cabin from where I sat. "We were about to start a movie. I didn't think you like horror."

"I don't," I said.

"But he chose 'Krueger' as a middle name," Ste said.

Jonathan looked a little shocked. I nodded, almost sheepishly. "I just thought 'K' sounds good as a middle initial and 'Krueger' is as unusual as 'Michael' is common," I said.

"What's the last name?" Jonathan asked.

"James," I said.

"Well that's fucking boring," Jonathan laughed. Ste laughed too. I just raised my eyebrows and said, "Well, I don't want to raise any suspicions. Just blend in."

Ste's pale complexion seemed friendly, not cold. And the warmth of his smile helped some. As the laughter died down, he leaned forward a bit.

"Sir Michael K. James," he said. "I will be in charge of your security detail during your visit in London."

"Is that where we're going?" I asked.

"Indeed," Ste said. "I apologise for not informing you earlier but this was unavoidable. I've already been arranging your paperwork to be forwarded in your new name. It should be on the tarmac when we arrive at Heathrow. In the meantime, watch the movie and get a little rest. And I assure you, we will not have another occurrence like the one in New York."

I shook Ste's hand and entered into the darkened middle cabin where Deej sat on a sofa with a couple of other guys scattered in the darkness, lit only by the forty-something-inch flat-screen display.

"Deej," I said.

"Hey!" he exclaimed. "Everything good?"

"Yea," I approached him, noticing the two other men who seems to shirk away a bit as I motioned them away. "I just wanted to thank you. I haven't had a chance to talk to you since you got here."

"No need," Deej said. "It's my job."

"Look," I said. "It may be your job but you barely know me and it would have been just as easy not to be on your 'A' game. I realize that. I really appreciate it and I want you to know it. If there's anything I can do..."

Before I could continue, Deej leaned in and kissed me. He kissed me deeply, with that tongue of his darting into my mouth, fresh and hot. My cock popped to attention.

"I know you plenty well," Deej pulled off, looking me in the eyes intensely, the blue screen reflecting across the room in his blue eyes. "I've been studying you for a while. I liked you before I met you. Now I really like you. You owe me nothing."

I couldn't speak. But I could do one thing. I leaned in to kiss him again, feeling him closely. His long-sleeve t-shirt couldn't hide his incredible body beneath. I kissed him more and knew a movie just wasn't in my future.

We broke our kiss and I laid my head on his shoulder as we hugged. I finally whispered: "I heard there was a bed somewhere on here."

Deej kissed my neck, "Yes sir." He stood, grabbing my hand and guiding me along.

As we were exiting the room, I could hear Jonathan saying, "Gentlemen, I don't think you'll meet the newly christened Michael until we land in London."

This cabin actually had one of those flimsy little doors and the entire room seemed dominated by the bed with about a foot around the edge. We collapsed in an embrace on the comforter. Deej didn't need my urging, he was pulling his clothing off quickly and yanking off mine.

Soon we were wrapped around each other and rolling around passionately. But soon he was on top of me, looking into my eyes, stroking the side of my face with his large hand, his fingers just tickling the tips of my brow and along my bangs. He kissed me.

"So Michael is your name now," he whispered.

"Yes, DJ."

"I like it," he said.

"Thanks," I said. "I'm really glad you showed up today."

He kissed me. Deeply. I could feel his entire body against mine. His cock pressed into me. His arms around me. "I'm glad nothing happened to you."

We stopped talking and kissed more. We looked at each other. And amazingly, I felt something. I don't know what. Well, I wasn't sure what I felt. The beginnings of love? Gratitude? Something else?

As I rolled over on top of him, I began kissing and licking down every inch of his body, touching him, stroking. I tasted each nipple and the peach fuzz that covered his chest. I sucked on his cock, its thickness and his balls, as they filled my hand.

I rolled him over with a gentle push, admiring his tattoo on his back and spreading his cheeks. I dove in and engorged myself on that meal of his ass. My tongue tangled with the light wiry hairs that dominated the crack and I tickled the light fuzz across the cheeks. I gripped his melons and pulled them wide so I could access his sweet pucker. Deej seemed to enjoy, moaning and groaning as I dove tongue first into the depths of his cunt.

I followed the detailed lines of his tattoo up his back until I lay on top of him, my cock in that crack. I slid less than an inch to line up the slick hole with my leaking cock. Then I leaned forward and kissed his neck and began working my hips just right, letting my cock head touch his button.

"Yes, yes, yes, Yes, YES, YES! YYEESS! YYYYYYYEEEEEEESSSSS!!!!" Deej chanted as I teased and then entered his hole. If he needed to adjust, it didn't take long. Not at all. Pretty soon I found myself with my arms wrapped around his massive chest, my chin at his shoulder, and just barely moving my hips in and out of his slick hole.

"Oh fuck!" Deej would occasionally say. "Yes!"

For some reason, I didn't want to chance position. I just wanted the simplicity. Me. All my weight. All of it on top of him. And finally, I was getting close to the point of no return.

"I'm getting close," I whispered.

"Don't stop," he said. "Don't Stop! DON'T STOP! DON'T...STOP! AARRRGGGHHH!"

His hole clenched down and it felt as if he was shooting a load, throbbing, letting his own cum loose and that sensation just turned out to be too much for me. I let got, letting myself begin to shoot into his tight guts.

"Aaaaaaaahhhhhhh."

We were sweaty. But for some reason, I liked how he smelled. After a bit, I rolled off, letting my softening cock slide out of his hole. "Thanks," I whispered.

"No," Deej said. "Thank you Michael."

And we drifted off to sleep.

The Company: Chapter Four

2010-03-13T13:03:00.003-05:00

"What kind of food are you considering tonight?" Deej asked as we climbed into the back of a Rolls Royce.

"I'm not all that familiar with choices in New York, so I'd like some guidance," I replied, thinking we looked a little too under-dressed for anything as fancy as a Rolls.

"Would Japanese be all right?" he asked. Of course their research knew sushi was among my favorite foods.

"Sure."

Deej leaned forward to the unseen driver and said something I didn't quite hear.

Jonathan sulked. I'd certainly taken the wind out of both their sails. Even if groomed by the Company for all their adult lives, I'm sure neither of them had ever struggled with getting what they wanted. Numerous studies show beautiful people get that shit. And for their new prospective boss, I'd just slapped them down.

Boss. I could be their boss. Of course this would not be like any other professional relationship I'd ever built. Over the years of my career, I'd developed a specialty of team-building and making employees who were extremely different come together and work well together. I played to each employee's strength.

Then again, I'd never fucked an employee. And in this job, it certainly looked like I would.

I'd chosen to change the game in the Library earlier. Deej sat quietly and seemed relaxed but Jonathan truly looked hurt.

The silent ride continued and I knew, in this case, I needed to speak up.

"Guys, I'm sorry if I caused any offense," I started. "If we're going to work together, you both need to learn to speak your minds, especially in the course of us all getting to know each other.

Deej opened his mouth to speak but Jonathan quickly spurt out what obviously had been waiting: "Do I really suck that bad at sucking?"

I laughed a little and Deej smiled as the wet city lights zoomed past us.

"No, Jonathan," I said. "I should have realized as a straight guy, you've probably worked the hardest on technique. Your skill was adequate for my first ever blow job by you. But every dick is different. And you will need to learn the spots, the strokes, the variations that work best at getting me off. I'll teach you."

He seemed to have a puzzled look on his face, so I leaned closer. "My friend," I looked into those beautiful brown eyes, that perfect face. I actually reached up and stroked across the side of his face, feeling that very light beard of the jawline. "You have nothing to feel inadequate about."

I leaned in for a light kiss on his cheek. Jonathan sat very still, I know wanting to ask more but searching for what might be next. His lips parted just a bit as he seemed to want to speak, but he remained silent. I took the opportunity to now kiss his lips. No tongue and very lightly.

Jonathan, being straight, would do the sex acts if required. I knew that. I just didn't know whether he would enjoy it as much as I. So I needed him to bond with me in a different way. As a friend. And especially since he'd kissed me so much prior, I figured he had a little oral fixation.

Now Jonathan seemed transfixed, staring with even more confusion but a relaxation as well.

As I leaned back, Deej to my left finally spoke.

"We understood you did like tattoos," he said, the lights dancing across his face as we cruised a little slower, thanks to traffic. "If mine appears to be a little much...."

"Ah," I interrupted "You have absolutely nothing to worry about."

"But I can have it removed," he said, hastening to make an offer.

"I wouldn't dream of it!" This time, I added a huge smile. "Yours is among the most unique ink art I've every seen. And I absolutely loved it."

"But..."

I leaned back, holding up my hands to them both.

"You guys have been terrific today, but I don't think you're truly prepared for me." I put a lot of emphasis on the last word, then after a dramatic pause. "The Company may be new to me. Relationships are not. This is a strange combination of partnership, business, sex and fuck knows what else.

"I like you both and I can tell you both want these positions. You both want to make an impression and had your plans on how that would happen. But I changed the dynamic and both of you took that as a rejection."

I sat quiet for a moment looking at them both. Jonathan had his eyes cast down and his hands folded in his lap. Deej looked at me, silently.

"You both appear remarkable," I said, reaching out to find their closest hands. "If we're all going to work together, then we need to be friends first and that takes time."

"No sex?" Jonathan said. "Just friends?"

"Now I didn't say that," I responded. "In my world, sex with friends is just a benefit and is as common as shaking hands when you meet." A slight pause. "Well, at least with my gay friends." Another pause. "My good looking friends."

Deej chuckled just a touch.

"So Jonathan, stop focusing on scheduling sex. It will happen when it happens," I said. "And Deej, stop worrying about my little inspection earlier. You're damn close to perfect."

They both gripped back and I pulled them toward me. "Group hug."

Those four arms encircled me before I could seem to get my arms around them. Suddenly, I found myself in this grip and I didn't want to extract myself. Jonathan kissed me. And I relaxed inside the fold.

I heard the door open and we climbed out.

* * *

What a dining experience. Just past midnight, Masa had turned into an adventure and the chef who lent his name to the restaurant, fawned over us all night long. Apparently, meals take hours there. Masa was tiny. I could only see 20 or so seats. We were the last to leave, but after too many sake tastings and sushi like no other I'd ever tasted along with numerous other Japanese delicacies, we spent an evening like no other.

And we three bonded. I'd successfully gotten the two men out of their funks and we were just enjoying ourselves. I confirmed my suspicion that Deej claimed to be bisexual, leaning a little harder into men. And Jonathan actually spoke about his sexual experiences with men, some of which surprised me.

Now we were back in the hotel. I enjoyed another snifter of the Grand Marnier special edition that didn't exist while Deej drank Johnny Walker Blue King George the Fifth or something like that. I didn't catch what Jonathan was drinking, but we were bonding.

"Guys," I finally said. "I'm knackered. I think it's time for bed."

"We'll be going then," Deej said, standing.

"The hell you will!" I exclaimed. "The only place you'll be going is bed with me!"

Deej looked pleased and, behind me, I could hear Jonathan put down his drink onto a table with a clink.

"Are you sure?" Deej asked.

"Have you seen that bed?" I said. "Without help, I'll never find the bed with all those fucking pillows. You have to help me out. Plus, the thing is huge. Three men will fit in it!"

"You better fucking believe it!" Jonathan practically yelled as he ran up to me and scooped me up. Before I knew it, the muscle man was carrying me across the damn threshold like some kind of bride. I laughed and pretended to struggle a little. However, a part of me enjoyed feeling his muscles strain as he carried my six-foot-three and 220-pound frame across the Penthouse.

Bathroom breaks and a bit of brushing teeth, I imagine, the three of us ended up in the room, sort of staring at each other. I guess I needed to make the first move, which proved to be easy. I turned off the lights and climbed into bed, wearing my underwear and a t-shirt. I managed to push my underwear off but kept it connected by one foot in case I needed it.

"What are you guys waiting for?"

Rustling to either side and soon they were both in bed, but not quite next to me. I reached over and grabbed a hip to either side. Jonathan didn't surprise me when I felt his naked body but Deej did, as he was naked as well. I pulled grabbed and pulled. It didn't take long before both of these hard bodies were pressed right next to me.

"When you speak of this later, and you will," I said. "Be kind."

Deej got it. But I don't think Jonathan did, who was nuzzling against my neck. I extracted myself enough to get the t-shirt off.

What happened next turned into a mishmash of human bodies where, before I knew I, I had only fleeting indications of who might be whom.

Okay, truth is, I could certainly tell the difference. Once my eyes adjusted to the darkness, a little light filtered through the slightly parted curtains and reflected through the bathroom. Additionally, Deej's skin just felt warmer and had a different texture and flavor from Jonathan's.

While Jonathan nuzzled me, it was Deej who climbed on top of me and kissed. His lips parted and I felt that tongue seek mine out, reaching every corner of my mouth. He tasted natural, no mint, no hint of the flavors of the meal from the night. His arms came around my neck lifting me just a bit. He squeezed just a bit.

His body was heavy against mine as I moved from his muscled back down to his slender waist and perfect hips. I cupped the mounds of his ass, which felt firm but pliable. And my natural instinct had me spread them and find his hole, tapping it with my middle finger. I found it already wet and, well, receptive.

Deej moaned into my mouth. And he pressed harder against me. I could feel his cock next to mine. Definitely hard and definitely large. But my focus remained on his kissing.

Now, when I'm hooking up, I so rarely kiss. But I actually enjoy kissing. What Deej was doing to me qualified as something more exceptional than a kiss. I seemed as if every fiber of his being connected with me through his lips and tongue. He made little noises and motions, coordinated perfectly with the most subtle movements of his body.

I could feel my cock leaking already.

Deej's aggressiveness took my breath away since it seemed to me that Jonathan seemed to have so much more to prove. He continued to wait patiently to my left side, licking my ear, his breath hot against my neck, planting small kisses and little nibbles. I could feel his body against mine, the throbbing of his cock next to mine.

That got my curious and I reached over to his cock. Very hard. Very erect. And as I felt around the base, no cock ring. I wonder if he'd taken a blue pill to be here.

Yet his actions didn't quite seem so, I don't know, like one of those straight boys at a strip club.

The swiftness of what happened next seemed almost coordinated. Deej came off me delicately and moved that incredible mouth to my leaking cock while Jonathan partially came up over me and began his oral assault. Where Deej was soft and subtle, Jonathan attacked with passion and fury. Two completely different techniques. Yet I matched him. He seemed almost shocked and pulled away, but I jerked forward with my face and bit his lower lip. Hard. And pulled him back down to me. A growl. Or that's what it sounded like. I don't think Jonathan expected me to do that.

I did find it hard to focus considering what Deej seemed to be doing. His delicate oral work. He didn't suck my cock all down at once. He started with licking the head and slurping up the pool of precum. Then he kissed and licked down the shaft, causing me to throb, ending at my balls, which he licked just with the tip of his tongue. He worked around the edges of my balls, finding those little areas that just set me off and caused even more of a flood to come from my cock. But it didn't rest on my belly for long because he licked it up as soon as I produced it.

Before I knew it, Deej had my cock slick with his spit and Jonathan had maneuvered himself on top and, well, it was subtle moves worthy of me. His ass, my cock all lined up. I could feel Deej's hand then his thumb as he pushed it into Jonathan's hole. Jonathan inhaled immediately, sat up and pressed himself all the way down.

Fuck.

Natural bottom. A straight natural bottom. His asshole enveloped every inch of my cock and I could feel it quiver with delight. I reached down to Jonthan's cock and gripped it, but he removed my hand immediately. Close? Really. As I moved my hand up toward my chest, I felt a huge wet spot where his cock had been.

Of course, at that moment, I want to feel his pecs. I wanted to touch that incredible chest. I felt the muscled, tight underneath the skin as he began to bounce on my cock with aggressive motion.

And I felt the most incredible sensations as Deej's mouth and tongue and hands all worked whatever parts of my cock were available to him.

The whole experience seemed to slow down like that moment in an action film when then use slow-motion to show everything that was going on. Getting close. I was getting close too fast. Jonathan was speeding up. Deej seemed to be more places than I could count. New pressures came a lot of different places. I rocked my hips to remove them but Jonathan kept it going when he announced, "Going... to... cum!"

I wasn't touching his cock and he wasn't either. About that moment, a flood of cum began to fly across my chest, across my face, all over... I couldn't tell. Thicker than piss but not as thick as mine, the spunk seemed to come from a dozen different locations. And it didn't seem to stop.

His asshole clenched and that was all he wrote for me. I let loose and just said, "Cumming!"

"Flood his guts!" I heard Deej, who went back to his oral assault.

I thrust and put all my batter into this straight boy ass. Fuck. Intense. I lost my sight for a moment. I felt Jonathan milk it some then he popped off. I felt Deej's mouth, which caused me to shiver from the intense sensation, which was replaced back with Jonathan's ass again.

Then Deej pushed Jonathan over, my cock still just inside his hole and I felt Deej's cock at Jonathan's hole. As he pushed in, my cock popped out. Deej fucked in quick, erratic thrusts.

Now Jonathan's face was over mine and I could see his eyes pop open as Deej entered him. His mouth opened with an intensity of pleasure. He saw me and we began a kiss. This one more tender. We held the kiss and each other while Deej used Jonathan's ass. I could feel them both, my cock occasionally caught in between the ass and cock.

Soon Deej buried his cock and grunted a series of times that certainly indicated he'd just bred Jonathan.

Deej collapsed next to us. I turned my head, breaking from Jonathan's kiss. Deej kissed me then Jonathan. Breathing hard. We shifted a little. Cum, sweat, spit drying in the night air, we curled up with each other and I drifted off to sleep.

The Company: Chapter Three

2010-03-10T00:26:00.006-05:00

"You'll need to resign tomorrow." Fredrick spoke with a neutral tone. "And corporate attorneys will be by tomorrow with the remaining paperwork and to answer any further questions."

I sat at a small table with an icicle chandelier seemingly poised to pierce the glass table and shatter my opulence around me. Fredrick had greeted me and escorted me to the 52nd-floor Penthouse. Something like the Ty Pennington Suite, but I don't think the home improvement guy from ABC had anything to do with it. I'm sure I had misunderstood something.

"But you haven't offered me a job here," I protested. I wondered if they did all this nice stuff just to overwhelm the senses.

Fredrick paused and eyed me carefully. I hadn't seen him since the dinner in Atlanta. He seemed a little more tanned and his hair had been cut. He seemed relaxed in the burgundy sweater and khakis. But I'm sure, they cost a lot more money than it appeared.

"How much do you make in a year?" he said, shuffling some of the papers before him and opening a sage-green file.

"With bonus, around..." I started to answer.

"One hundred and twenty-two thousand, three-hundred and seventy two dollars and fifty-four cents," he answered his own question.

He slid a yellow piece of paper from the folder and turned it so I could see it.

"This is a wire-transfer to your personal account in Georgia for $500,000 made earlier today," he said. "I think if you decline, this will more than cover your job search efforts for the next couple of years."

I looked closely. Indeed, the account number looked correct and it did have my name, address and more listed. And it was my bank. And the sum listed showed a half a million dollars.

"I'm going to be screwed with taxes," I said under my breath.

"The Company accountants will take care of that for you, Mark," Fredrick said. I looked at him and he smiled. "Tomorrow, when the attorneys stop by, they'll also give you information on your off-shore accounts where we've already deposited $2.75 million, which will pay for your time."

I think my chin now rested on the floor.

"I'll go ahead and hand you this," again, pulling a black portfolio from beneath more papers in the file. I recognized the image on the leather-bound case. It opened and a black American Express card with my name engraved in platinum. "You can use that for any concerns during your consideration experience. But usually one of your Personal Assistant Corp Candidates will be with you and will take care of your expenses."

Fredrick smiled, what seemed to be laced with honesty. Yet, I sat wondering what really lay beneath that smile.

"The job is yours," he continued. "You just have to say, 'Yes,' or, 'No.'"

I started to say, "Yes," when he stopped me with his hand held up.

"But you need to get familiar with the Company before you answer," Fredrick said. "You need to be comfortable with our operations and your role. You need time to evaluate the fit. You don't like it, leave and take the money with you. You want to stay, well, let's just say money will never be a concern for you for the rest of your life."

My humor played into that way too well, so I snapped: "As long as the Company lets me live, you mean."

Fredrick chuckled. "We are not the mob." He looked at me with clarity and feeling. "We don't kill people or have people killed. We're also not the CIA, although I imagine some of them would like to get hold of our resources."

I almost believed Fredrick as he launched into the history and operations of the Company, a shadow conglomerate with holdings so large, it makes the U.S. National Debt look like pocket change. He explained a different world economy than I'd ever imagined or understood -- not that economics were my forte. Politics, sex, business, money, religion all woven into a secret world where the Company (and apparently five other multinational conglomerations) ran everything.

And I would work here?

"I will say, we're not always conforming to the laws set in every country we operate," Fredrick said. "So you will have to... well... reconcile any moral concerns you might have. But if you take the job, it's yours until you retire. And then there's a substantial pension to allow you to live out your natural life."

He closed the green folder.

"Considering the Company's healthcare, I imagine it will be a significantly long life," he said. "Most retirees from the Company live well into their 90s. In fact, three of your predecessors are still alive."

"And what exactly will I be doing?" I had asked this question before with the answer that I would be "running the marketing division." How could I run a division for a corporation that most of the world didn't know existed.

"You'll handle the Consumer Influence Division, or CID," Fredrick said. "You'll help the world choose products that match the Company's interest."

I appeared to have a puzzled look on my face. "The Company doesn't appear to exist. I'm not even sure what products I'd influence for purchase..." my voice trailed off as I looked over Fredrick's shoulder to the breathtaking view beyond the windows.

"It's going to take a long time for you to comprehend how we work, but you will," he said. "You're very bright. But let me give you an example of the most recent campaign of your immediate predecessor."

He paused, launching into a story of how the Toyota Corporation, an interest of the Company, decided to switch to one of the other international conglomerates. Apparently, the person who held my position created the multi-layered failures of runaway vehicles and accelerator issues.

"It got Chairman Akio Toyoda is line with our thinking," Fredrick said.

"Sounds a little mob-like to me," I said. "Not that I have a problem with that. It's just the deaths...."

"No one died," he said. "At least, not by the Company's hand. We've exaggerated the numbers in general. And, after people have died in true but tragic accidents, the Company may have helped it appear like an issue in the vehicle was at fault."

"I get you though," I kept him from launching into a longer explanation. I understood subtleties. And I recognized the layering effect that the faulty accelerator with floor mats, sticking mechanics and then a computer glitch all seemed to help cause the problems.

"You should relax and have a good evening," Fredrick said. "And enjoy the city tonight." He gathered up his papers and stood to leave. "And you can enjoy DJ and Jonathan too." He smiled. "Unless you'd prefer to meet other candidates tonight."

"Oh no," I said. "They both seem..." what do I say to a straight man? Tasty? Hot? "...acceptable." I settled on that.

"Good," Fredrick shook my hand. "I'll send them up as I leave."

"Thanks," I said.

He turned as he reached the elevator: "Welcome aboard, Mark. We're glad to have you as part of the Company."

"Thank you, Fredrick."

* * *

I had to piss, so I wandered through the Penthouse until I found the master bath just off the master bedroom. Geez. This place was Posh Spice and David Beckham all rolled up into one. Jeez. The bathroom with marble or some expensive polished rock. The toilet seat -- when I finally found the damn thing -- was heated. And a bidet. I've heard of them, those little water spritzers so you dare not wipe your own ass.

I pissed like a race horse. Two Diet Cokes and four vodka cranberries will do that to me. I looked over my shoulder toward another panoramic view of the city and Central Park. Yes, if I needed to shit, I could look at Central Park. Sort of like I was shitting on New York. Even the bathroom had a balcony. I sighed. Could this truly be happening to me? I flushed the toilet and went around the corner to the sink.

I didn't want to touch the polished faucet handles for the fingerprints it would leave. What the fuck? I didn't piss on my hands! I tried to leave the bathroom as perfect when I left it, afraid to touch anything.

The master bedroom's majesty looked like nothing I'd ever seen. A huge canopied bed looked bigger than king size. Fluffy pillows in numerous shapes and sizes adorned it, many with gold cabling and threading. I figured indeed, the pillows were probably indeed gold.

"Mark?" I heard a familiar voice and turned to wander toward the voice.

"Shouldn't you yell Marco?" I spoke loudly back as my voice echoed through the Penthouse.

"What?" I could hear Jonathan when Deej chimed in, "Polo!"

At least someone got the reference. This place was so fucking huge, playing the hide-and-seek swimming pool game seemed appropriate. 'Hey,' I thought, 'I am swimming in luxury.'

Jonathan approached me as I entered the library wrapped me in his thick arms. His white shirt untucked from jeans now. Obviously, he'd changed pants. But he was in bare feet and his cuffs were rolled up.

"I've been wanting to do that," he whispered. I didn't resist and almost collapsed in the warmth. But my guard stayed up, so I began to push away.

"Look..." I started, when Deej entered into the room gilded in bronze and copper colors and amazing bookshelves from floor to ceiling, all lined with books. A grand piano sat in a window, begging to be played and seeming to look out over the city in yet another one of those beautiful picturesque windows.

"Drinks?!" he announced. Holding a snifter in one hand and two high-ball glasses in the other.

Deej now wore a wife beater, tight across his chest. His very, very built and tight chest. His arms bulged. It all seemed to want to break out of his clothes like the Hulk. A very tanned, extremely hot Hulk.

Indeed, black tribal thorns pierces and poked around the edges of his shoulders as he extended the snifter toward me.

"And this is?" I asked as I reached for it, having a good idea what the snifter held.

"Guess?" Deej smiled, as he extended the other hand to Jonathan.

As it approached my nose, I said, "Gran Marnier but not just any Gran Marnier, I'd say."

I sniffed as Deej nodded and smiled.

"Is it 150?" I asked. Gran Marnier is a blend of cognacs with orange liqueur. The 150 with a longer French name, indicates the cognacs are 50 years old.

"No," Deej said, motioning to my glass. "That technically doesn't exist."

A puzzled look came across my face as I took a sip, letting the intense flavors coat my tongue, clear my sinuses and then flood me with warmth. Smoother. More intense. More intricate flavors beyond the orange. Even a hint of floral and oak.

"It's a 1892 batch," Deej said. "More than 100 years old. Bottled by Alexandre Marnier-Lapostolle himself"

Obviously, Deej spoke French. The words flowed smoothly.

"To new friendships," Deej toasted.

"And a new job," I said.

"And sex!" Jonathan chimed in.

We all took a drink.

If I admitted it to myself, I liked these two. Fuck, what wasn't to like about two built-like-brick-houses, twenty-something models who wanted nothing more than to make me happy. But my guard just wasn't down.

"You're one horny bastard," I said finally to Jonathan, who smiled back at me.

"He is," Deej attested. "But if I were to read you right, you're not quite ready for that."

I nodded. "I still have a lot of questions about this. Not that you two don't seem hot."

Deej sat on the sofa and motioned for me and Jonathan to take a seat. "What do you want to know?"

I sighed. Again. I seemed to be doing a lot of heavy breathing. And not due to the hotties. "Is this for real?" I finally asked. "I mean, are you two here just for my sexual needs? Is that a real job?"

Jonathan laughed, but Deej just smiled and put his glass down on the crystal coffee table in front of him. "Very real," he said. "The Company will expect a great deal from you. As Personal Assistants, we would be available for whatever you need. One of us will be with you at all times, barring your wish for us to step away. We are sort of like the President's Secret Service. You have nothing to worry about with us and can trust us completely..."

I started to interrupt.

"I know trust takes time," Deej held up a hand, indicating he wanted to finish his thoughts. "We arrange everything for you, from meals and transportation to meetings and corporate functions. Ask us to do ANYTHING, and we will do it."

"At least, if you hire us," Jonathan said.

"What if I don't?" I asked. "There are other candidates, are there not?"

"Yes," Deej answered.

"Four others," Jonathan chimed in. "But we're the front runners."

"What do you mean...?" I started to ask.

"From among the PAC," Deej explained. "We earned the top scores matching your personality and needs based on detail profile information the Company was able to obtain."

He took a sip of his drink. I figured it was some sort of scotch. "The Company's research on you was as specific as it could get, but of course, people sometimes do not get along," Deej continued. "Jonathan and I earned the closest matching scores for what we knew of you. If you do not choose us, we can return to the PAC and await another appropriate assignment. Or we could take another position in the Company -- even working for you."

"Really?" I asked. "So you could work with me?"

"Yes," Deej said. "That's an option. Not ideal since we'd be geographically restricted and wouldn't be at your beck and call 24/7/365."

"What about vacations?" I asked.

"We take them with you," Jonathan smiled. "Disney anyone?!"

Obviously, they'd done their research. I smiled and took another sip, enjoying the incredible smoothness.

"Our assignment lasts a minimum of three years as your Personal Assistant," Deej said. "You can dismiss us when ever, but we cannot leave you. And believe me, we will work tirelessly to assure you do not let us go."

I looked a little shocked, thinking the worst like they got some sort of concrete shoes.

"We are forcibly retired from the Company if you are ever dissatisfied and dismiss one of your Personal Assistants before the three-year review," Deej said. "And we earn half-pension. Not full."

"We'd eventually have to get other jobs," Jonathan said. "It doesn't keep you set for life like the full pension."

I took a swallow this time considering my next question.

"Sex is part of all this?" I finally broke the silence.

"Fuck yea!" Jonathan popped up with a little jump. "Want some more Mark? Deej?" I motioned no as he went hunting for the bar.

"Of course, Mark," Deej smiled. "Again, we do anything. We'll even find others for you to have sex with. Whatever you want. Seriously."

I rolled my eyes, "Your wish is my command." Deej cocked his head, the tattoos straining a little on the back of his neck.

"Something like that," he said. "We're not genies, but we know how to make you happy."

I leaned back in my seat. Took a sip and paused.

"Then let me see," I said.

Jonathan returned with a full glass, but I stared intensely at Deej, ignoring Jonathan -- although if I had to choose, he probably earned more attention from me because of his devil-may-care straight attitude.

"What?" Deej looked a little puzzled.

I crossed my legs and looked over the snifter. "The ink. Let me see it."

Deej stood to take off the tank. As his body stretched as he pulled the tank over his head by the shirt tail and turned around. The elaborate pattern formed across his perfect back, seeming to embrace his body, the thorns stretching across his shoulders, up his neck, around to his pecs and ending at the edges of his stomach.

"Fuck yea!" Jonathan said, reaching for the top button of his shirt.

"No, Jonathan," I said. "You stay over there. I'm inspecting Mr. D.J. at this moment."

I walked a little closer. The workmanship on the tattoo amazed me. The even, consistent color throughout the tattoo seemed almost too perfect to be ingrained into the skin.

"Must of taken hours," my fingertips just brushing the edge of a thorn on his bicep.

"I take it you like," Deej said.

"Indeed," I looked up at him. "Let's see the rest."

He unbuttoned the trousers and dropped them swiftly and without hesitation. The remaining portions of the tribal creature emerged, grasping his buttocks, hugging his hips and lightly tapping his Apollo's belt just above his pubes.

But among the most interesting aspects was the tail. The creature seemed to have one, long and flexible, that snaked down his back, across is right ass cheek, around to the front of his thigh and through the blond hairs, around his muscular calf and finally resting in a forked end on the top of his right foot.

Now that I could see the entire canvas, I could appreciate the exquisite work by the artist. The color's consistency was perfect throughout, or seemingly so. I bet the forked tip of the tail on the top of Deej's right foot would match the thorn piercing his top left shoulder.

The canvas turned out to be as exquisite as the art. Deej's body was one of sinewy perfection, tightly wound with muscles defined beneath a light blond fuzz. His nipples, larger than a quarter, poked out just enough to let you know they needed attention. And as he stood, placing his weight from one leg to another, the shift allowed the light to cast new shadows into the nooks of his perfect musculature.

I could see his cock in profile, its thickness and heft being pulled by gravity to the floor. Without full erection, I could see easily seven good inches and knew eight probably wasn't impossible. Trimmed nicely above the cock bristled his blond mound that blurred into the fuzzies of his stomach. In contrast, his shaved pink balls weighted him firmly to the floor.

I stepped away and began walking a slow circle around his, attempting to see what reaction I might get. Far enough away I couldn't touch him, I let my eyes attack his body. He stared for a moment and looked back intensely before shyly looking another way.

I wanted him nervous. This entire day had set me off guard and now I wanted Deej to wonder what I was thinking. I couldn't tell him all the horrible things I planned on doing to his body and the twisted plans within my mind.

I made a second, silent circle around his, this time pausing and occasionally motioning him to lift an arm -- allowing me to see his pits, filled with blond hair but not overflowing. His ass seemed covered with a kind of peach fuzz.

"I wonder if I should have you shaven," I finally broke the silence. "Or maybe laser hair removal."

He still didn't speak.

I made another turn and looked at him. His cock seemed to flex a little and appeared a bit bigger.

"I take it we have some sort of dinner plans tonight?" I asked.

"We have all the options of New York, but I have taken the liberty to make a few inquiries," Deej said after clearing his voice.

"Go get changed while I have a word with Mr. Jonathan," I ordered.

And like a scared skinny dipper caught in the act, Deej grabbed his clothes and ran off toward the bedroom.

I then leveled my eyes on Jonathan who seemed to sense the change. He didn't speak but waited for my orders. He stood across the room where two of the bronze bookcases gilded with ivy intersected in the semi-circular room.

I got close to him, facing him, moving with deliberation and staring at him. He must have thought that again, I was going for a kiss, but just in time I avoided him lips and moved toward his ear to whisper: "On your knees."

He dropped down and looked up at me, not to see what was going to happen next. I'm sure he suspected. I undid my zipper and pulled out my fully stiff cock. It hovered near his chin, but interestingly, he just looked up at me.

"If you're really straight. you won't suck very well," I said, placing my hand on the back of his head. His lips parted and be began sucking, but moved his right hand up to embrace the base of my cock. With my left, I pushed it off.

"A good cocksucker doesn't see to use his hands," I said.

Juicy and warm, Jonathan did have some skills. But he was straight and there is a natural talent and rhythm that a good gay cocksucker understands and innately uses.

I went ahead and closed my eyes for a second to see if Jonathan could actually cause me to cum with his mouth. Eventually, I had to choose, "No." He was adequate but not extraordinary. I needed extraordinary to make me cum in a mouth.

I pulled off and walked away.

"Go get ready," I ordered him. He started to protest but he could see I was already zipped up.

The Company: Chapter Two

2010-03-08T16:19:00.004-05:00

Our pace through LaGuardia seems almost leisurely compared to the crowds around us. I'm certainly feeling the effect of four drinks. God, I'm such a lightweight. Despite my own forward nature when it comes to men, I somehow resisted grabbing the guns on my escort, Jonathan.

Escort. That's somehow fitting since he seems to want to do more than guide me to my destination. As he's leaned in to whisper on occasion, I brushed against his body and felt electricity. Or it might have been the vodka.

This job would mean an incredible opportunity for me. Even the loosening of the alcohol, I still kept myself composed. But now I needed to sober up for meeting.

As we exited security, Jonathan said, "I'll get your luggage and follow you to the hotel." About then, we reached the limo drivers. An older gentleman wearing a black suit held a small sign with a small logo with a "C" in an ancient-looking shield. I recognize it as the logo of the Company. As we approached him, he snapped a phone shut. Without a word, he turned around and we locked in step behind him.

'What's going on?' I'm thinking. As we step through the crowds and the doors to a dreary gray day, the older man who looks like a limo driver produces an umbrella almost out of no where and it snaps open. It's barely misting and a little chill reaches me. A car pulls up perfectly timed. Not just any car. A car I've only seen on television but I recognize it immediately. It stops short of the curb and less than a second later, the limo man is opening the door.

I turn toward Jonathan, who's reaching for me. He dives in for a kiss, just missing my mouth dead on.

"I'll see you a bit later," he whispers, and pushes me inside with a wink. The door slams on the Maybach 62 S with a tidy, muted sound. The roar of airplanes, the sounds of cars and crowds, the smell exhaust and jet fuel disappears. And the Maybach moves swiftly and smoothly into traffic.

I take a moment for a deep breath, close my eyes and attempt to stop the world from spinning for a moment. The black leather seats are warmed and the exterior world just retreated. One of those moments when you think pinching yourself might be a good idea.

"If you would like a drink, Mark, help yourself," a deep voice with the quality of broadcasting speaks. "There's a refrigerator in the middle between the seats. It's got Diet Coke, vodka, cranberry."

I stared at the back of his dirty blond spikes but could see his crystal blue eyes in the rear-view. Obvious. Another model. Another 10. Another hot guy. Another.

"Thank you," I stammered, opening up the little compartment and sensing the coolness. Pulling out a Diet Coke and knowing I needed to sober up some more.

"I'm DJ," he said, eying me a little. "We'll be going to the Four Seasons. You can relax and enjoy the ride. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask."

I opened my mouth, but no sound escaped it. Then I looked down, almost embarrassed. If this whole assistant thing was happening, did he indeed want to be one? Or was he just a driver?

"Yes," he seemed to answer the question. "I am hoping for an opportunity to work with you, Mark. I hope using your first name isn't too forward."

"No," I stammered.

"Good," he said. "You can call me 'Deej' too. Most people do."

"I'm just..." what word do I use here? "...overwhelmed." I let out an exasperated sigh.

"By what, if I might ask?" Deej let his eyes dart from the road to the rear-view. His intense look just amplified by his eyes, an aquatic blue deeper than anything I'd ever seen. Did he wear contacts? And as he moved, I could get better glimpses of his face. Classic smooth jaw with almost no hint of a beard. Tight eyes without crows feet. Full peach lips blending into naturally tanned skin.

"This whole assistant thing," I said. "And the job. A dream job. With the amazing Company. I just am not sure how to take it. Never mind the implications of sleeping with an assistant..."

Fuck. Maybe Jonathan was the only one willing to do that. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything.

Deej smiled as he read the shocked look on my face. "Don't worry," he almost chuckled. "The Company puts us under ironclad contracts. We're here voluntarily and we are open to whatever it takes for Company executives to succeed. You are not the first Gay executive here."

I twist my head just a bit and look over my glasses that have slipped down my nose.

"And you are not the first executive with an..." the next word comes with a little emphasis, "...unusual set of interests."

I begin calculating things in my head and finally ask, "How much do you guys know?"

Deej laughed. "You're going to actually have to forgive the Company for a moment, Mark," he begins an explanation that leaves me speechless again.

Apparently Jonathan told me a little white lie. The executives I'd dined with did indeed know I was Gay. The Company's background research department had scrambled into every nook and cranny in my life. The Company's background had been going on for months and had found my ex-partners, ex-boyfriends, even ex-fucks I'd never even knew their name. Apparently more than a hundred interviews had occurred with family and friends never mentioning a word to me. The Company knew every television show I'd watched, every bite of food I'd eaten and the most inane details of my life.

No only my blog and every e-mail account I'd ever used had been scoured, but I'd been observed, some plants had been put in front of me to observe my reactions and even my recent experiences at my current job had been manipulated to see if I might be Company material. All this had started well before the wooing process even started.

"The Company is extremely thorough," Deej concluded. "The dossier they assembled on you was memorized by all the candidates you will meet. Not all the details make the dossier. But we have been preparing for this opportunity for about three weeks."

I'm a little pissed at this point. The Diet Coke is helping a little, but knowing they knew so much and I knew nothing.

"And what about your dossier?" I snapped.

"Right here," he reaches down to the seat next to him and pulls up a neat, two-inch thick blue folder like you'd find in a doctor's office. I take it and feel the heft. "And in case you want," he continued. "This is Jonathan's." He hands me a similar one with an equal heft.

I don't say anything, wanting to steam a little. Invasion of fucking privacy, I start to think. But about that moment, I feel a little relief. If the Company knew so much about me and still wanted to hire me, well what the fuck do I have to be pissed about?

I guess I wanted the playing field evened. I take a swig from the almost empty can and leaf through the first few pages of DJ's file. David Joseph Carthright from Cambridge, Massachusetts. Born in 1985, the year I graduated from high school.

God, I'm old.

I close the file.

"So what's this say?" I speak finally.

"My dossier?" he answers. "It's full of the details of my life, from birth to now."

"Sum it up," I order.

"I joined the Company two years ago after graduating Harvard," he said. "I was pre-law and almost started to go to law school when the Company had an opening. I took it, working in the Legal/Politics branch until I got opportunity to apply to the PAC. My application wasn't approved until the second time around..."

"Wait," I interrupted. "The PAC?"

"Oh, sorry. The Personal Assistant Corp," Deej said. "It's where the company trains the Personal Assistants for a select group of executives."

"There's an organization?" I'm really confused. "There's a place that trains the Personal Assistants? In what?"

Deej laughed, a twinkle crosses his beautiful blue eyes. I need another Diet Coke.

"We learn a wide variety of disciplines -- organization, event management, bartending, house cleaning, international diplomacy, conflict management, clothes mending and fitting, weapons use, hand-to-hand combat, sexual skills, interrogation, driving, security, cooking and more. Whatever the Company thinks might come in handy."

"Combat, sex and cooking," I smirked. "Sounds like a pleasant Friday evening."

"Whatever you'd enjoy," Deej snaps back. "I'm sure I can find the right combination."

I pop open the next can. I'm getting a little punchy. And I'm tempted to start my inquiries. Then I realize it's useless for me to ask the usual collection of questions. So I ask the one that rises to my mind first.

"Why me?"

He looks at the rear-view. "Why did I choose to apply for work with you?" Deej asked. I nod. "You intrigued me."

I cock my head to one side, look at him and take a drink. I know well enough not to say anything. Keeping quiet will encourage Deej to fill the silence.

"You're not groomed for the Company," he said. "It's rare for the Company to recruit from so far outside its ranks and even more rare for you to walk in at the level you are. I wanted to see what the Company has in store for someone like you."

I laughed. "You don't think I'll be eaten alive?"

"No, Sir." Deej said. "While every place people work has politics, I find the Company remarkably straightforward. I imagine you'll be fine. And, if you select me, I'll be there to help."

I wondered just how true that was.

We reached the front entrance on East 57th Street and the Maybach came to a smooth stop curbside near the simple crown entrance. My door opened to a familiar face, as Jonathan reached in to help me out.

"Miss me?" his hands were warm and firm as he lifted with seemingly little effort. I glanced over my shoulder to see Deej exiting as well with the older gentleman climbing in after him. "Nice ride?"

I had to admit, I didn't remember the ride. The conversation, though, proved to be memorable.

The Company: Chapter One

2010-03-07T14:50:00.006-05:00

The Company.

Have you ever heard of it? I hadn't. In fact, a Google search netted nothing useful. The name, of course, makes things difficult. Come on. The Company? You've got to be kidding.

However, apparently the Company "discovered" my professional skills. Knowing very little about me personally, the Company and I spoke on the phone a few times before deciding on a business dinner and to possibly woo me over. A couple of executives fly into Atlanta and arrange to meet me for an expensive dinner. I'm not all that sure how it will go.

Roth and Frederick, introduced as the CEO and President respectively, meet me at the Four Seasons in Atlanta. Interestingly enough, we've guided to a private dining room at the five-star restaurant.

The meal goes well and we're all getting along, spending much of the time discussing my skills. My questions regarding the Company are deflected deftly -- which I certainly notice but don't press too hard. With their fitted suits, where we're eating, their poise, I'm convinced this might be an interesting career move. The sense develops that I'd bring some good skills to the Company. But we're still running pretty informal and not down to brass tacks.

So I'm invited to accompany the executives for after dinner drinks. We climb into the limo they've got for the evening and inside sit three incredibly stunning women.

Yes, I said women.

They're not some cracked up ho or even remotely call girlish. These three women are sophisticated and gorgeous. Obviously, they cost bank.

Since this hadn't been a formal interview, the issue of sexuality hadn't come up and these two dense but nice straight guys are oblivious to the situation I've been put into. I'm invited to sit next to a lovely Asian named Christy and we chat a little while I look around nervously.

The evening proceeds to a private, members only club where the ladies attempt to cozy up to us and ply us with liquor. I am attempting to find the right moment to extract myself (and to get a ride back to my car). My "date" continues to try and get close when I finally look at her:

"Look," I whisper. "I'm gay. I've got no problem with this and I'm very interested in this job. But you don't need to work hard to entertain me. I'm just trying to figure out a way to get out of this without losing my chance for this job."

"I thought so!" Christy smiles. One of her previous roommates was gay and she's got many gay friends. As the evening rolls on, we drink and enjoy each other's company without the added pressure of anything sexual, talking the usual girl stuff. We even discuss a few naughty things, including satisfying my curiosities about an upscale call girl.

The two other executives have their fun, at some point each stepping away for a while. The evening ends naturally, with me making a new friend and the two men (with a confused look on their face) but not saying anything explicitly about my failure to use the girl.

I go home that morning, worried that my failure to be a part of the straight boy's club cost me this incredibly cushy job.

A few days later, Frederick calls me.

"Hey, I really enjoyed meeting," blah blah blah. The conversation starts out normal enough. He talks about my ideas, our compatibilities and taking the process to the next step. We begin discussing a visit to the offices in New York, Los Angeles and London -- three of the cities I will work in on a regular basis. The call concludes with this statement: "I'm sorry if we made you uncomfortable at all the other night."

As I begin saying it was fine, I had a good time. "Well, we like to make sure our executives have a great time."

The conversation concludes with details of my travel.

The day comes and I pack up, pleasantly surprised when I hear there will be a driver picking me up to carry me to the airport. The doorbell rings and I open it to a dark-haired, twenty-something beefy man with a broad chest and even broader smile by the name of Jonathan. Obviously straight, he's very professional and also extremely friendly. Chatting, lingering, looking in a way that almost seems to be studying me.

We drive to the airport in a delightful conversation. Jonathan is humorous, with a hint of that darkness and dryness that infiltrates my own humor. Short-cropped hair but just longer than a crew cut, occasionally his head turns and I think I can see the tip of a tattoo on his neckline that peaks above the creamy, crisp shirt he wears. A perfect smile and a chiseled face with broad shoulders. In his dark suit, it's difficult to determine exactly how built Jonthan is, but he seems very attractive.

We arrive curbside and he steps out, opens my door and then retreats to the rear of the vehicle to get my bags when another gentleman steps toward us.

"Hi Cliff," Jonathan said, handing the guy who's apparently named "Cliff" the keys. He's got a firm hold of my luggage. He motions me to follow him as I notice the other man is driving away in the car.

"What's going on?" I asked, rushing up to step in time with my luggage carrier.

"Oh, I've been asked to make sure you make it to New York safely," he said. "I'll be travelling with you."

"I think I'll be fine," I start.

"Oh, I am sure you will be fine, but the Company insists you have a great time," he said, emphasizing the word "great" and tucking in a wink.

He checks us in at the First Class desk and we're whisked into the shorter security lines. Before I know it, we're approaching the terminal when I finally get the courage to speak again.

"What exactly is going on?"

He smiled. "Enjoy yourself. I'm here to make sure everything goes smoothly."

Before I can say much more, he placing his index finger on my lips. "Just enjoy our time together."

We stepped onto the plane as soon as boarding started and that's when he takes off his black jacket and dark tie. Now, I can see him more clearly. Brick house. A beautiful V shape and incredibly built. And through the sheer fabric, I see a couple of darker spots on his tanned skin that might be those tattoos.

He ordered us both drinks as I take the window seat. Obviously, he'd been informed my drink preferences with a vodka and cranberry with extra lime showing up.

As the flight fills up, we chat more. Mostly small talk. But he leans in close to me, touching me lightly, making himself close into my space.

As the flight takes off and we're airborne, the roar of the engine finally give me enough courage to ask what I'm now thinking.

"Listen, I think you're here for more than getting me to New York safely," I say. Before I can say anything else, he interrupts again.

"I am here to make sure your experience is phenomenal and you worry for nothing," he said. "I am here for your complete service, no matter your needs." He raises an eyebrow and winks.

"I just don't think the flight attendants or air marshalls on this flight will let us join the mile-high club," I said. "Not to mention that you're straight."

Obviously, I'm getting my bearings a little. Or it's the drink.

"Now I wouldn't say that," he laughed.

I stare at him dead on: "It's not my first time at the rodeo, buddy. I know the difference."

"If you don't like me, you can dismiss me in New York," he said politely. "And I won't be the only man you will meet in the coming days. Some will lean more gay than I happen to be. But I can assure you, you would have a very good time with me."

To emphasize this point, his head cocks a little and seems to motion toward his crotch. Outlined in the dark wool, I see it growing. He's a lefty, meaning his cock is creeping down his left pants legs. From what I can tell, it's easily a hefty eight inches.

"What is going on?" I'm a bit exasperated by his deftness and charm. He makes some of the stripper straight boys I've met seem like inexperienced dunces.

He sighed.

"Over the next few days, you will meet many men," he says. "The executives were mortified that they'd failed to research you sufficiently and arranged for the last visit to include an appropriate date. So this trip, you will be overwhelmed by a collection of men to choose from."

"To choose from?" I say.

"Right!" he interrupts again. "We're all vying for two personal assistant positions working for you. This Company is very difficult to get your foot in the door, but this is a surefire way. I'll get great pay and benefits no one else my age could get...."

"But, you're straight!"

"I know. You know. They don't," he said. "I've had sex with more than a dozen men. It's fun. Look, I'm 26, in great shape and I enjoy a man who appreciates my body. I don't really want a woman right now. I see this as a way to advance my career."

"But," I start. He interrupts.

"You don't have to choose me. If you do, I have to be with you three years. Believe me, you won't regret it and everything is iron clad. No sexual harassment lawsuits. Nothing for you to worry about."

"But," I'm struggling to take it all in.

"Don't worry," he says. "I'm not really seeing this as gay for pay. I had a choice too. After I read about you and drove you here, I did not have to board the plane with you. If I liked you, then I get to be your companion as long as you want."

A pause. There's silence between us. He leans over, "And I've read your blog so I know plenty about you."

I lean back, a shocked look on my face.

He leans closer and motions me, "I'm one of those straight guys who likes to get fucked. Raw. Just the way you like it." He darts in for a quick kiss then leans back. "And I kiss too."

He's motioning the flight attendant for another round of drinks. I think I'm going to need it.