daddybear54

"Let's all go to the club night" was a great, fun add-on to the main story, although I'm surprised that the king and queen let them get away with it. You gave us a great vignette of Alex, struggling desperately to stay calm as all those hot men were lining up to get pictures with him and Max. Seeing Manos taken down a peg was fun too. And now that Franco and Artem have finally broken the ice between each other, seems like there's nothing left to do but get our heroes married. I can't wait.

It's great to see that Max isn't fighting his royal destiny. He's going all in, not crossing his fingers. Prince Alexander and Prince Maximilian are going to be the royal couple of the century! 😍🤩

Max has a lot more on the ball than he gives himself credit for. And your comment about Ben falling off the wagon gave me a chuckle.

Right on target, @negchaserlooking. It's so true, every time a new chapter in this novel drops, it takes precedence over everything else. Had a good chuckle at the two mothers ordering everyone else out of the room while they hatch their plans. And so happy to see Tom and Gareth finally getting their act together. Now, if we could just straighten out Franco and Artem....

@BottomBeef Thank you so much! That's a wonderful compliment for a writer to receive! As for writing more, I certainly plan to although I don't have a workable idea yet. Something will come to me. I particularly appreciate that you reacted so strongly to the ending because that was a late inspiration, after I was more than halfway through the last chapter, and I got misty-eyed myself when I was writing it. I have a few earlier stories, if you hunt backwards in the list. "The Demon Lover," "Body Double," "Polo Breeders," "Porn Star Surprise," and "Italian Firecracker." That last one doesn't have any character development to speak of, just BTW.

@DCWildBtm thank you!

Chapter 10 – The Wind That Fills My Sails Rich’s swearing-in ceremony was conducted, fittingly, by the Chief Justice of the new Supreme Court which he had helped to bring into being. After the ceremony, which was televised, he spoke briefly to the nation, reminding all Alcantarans of the significant ceremonial and non-partisan role which the President played in ensuring continuity of their elected leadership, and pledging his continued support and advice to the Premier. Afterwards, though, Benita rolled her eyes as bit as she said, “Rich, did you really have to sound so much like a damned lawyer?” Rich just laughed, and fired back with, “Hah! You’re a fine one to talk!” As soon as Rich was sworn in as President, he realized that presiding over the final days of his dear friend Benita’s career was going to be a bittersweet privilege. They’d become so close to each other over all the years since doing that first court case together in Canada, and it felt strange indeed to realize that soon he would be going on in public life without her – at least for a few months. He watched the leadership campaign for the Social Democrats with considerable interest but took no active part since his new role demanded that he remain outside of party activity. The candidates were all young, up-and-coming people, all but one in their first terms as Members. Rich was pleased to see that all three had informed themselves about the issues and problems of the country and were able to answer tough questions in a knowledgeable way. The voting was conducted by an online ballot, and the party members selected Darren Alderford as the new leader. It was at this point that Rich decided to make a first break with traditional protocol and hold the ceremonial tendering of Benita’s resignation and consequent swearing-in of Darren as a public event. He wanted the people of Alcantara to see the process for themselves and be assured that everything was done in an orderly way, while also giving himself a chance to publicly thank Benita. The brief ceremony in the Assembly building’s rotunda being concluded, the event devolved into an open reception in which everyone attending had a chance to meet the old and new Premiers, and to thank Benita for her service. She’d always loved keeping personal contact with the voters, so this was a perfect way for her to end her political career. Darren also proved himself very much at ease in this type of informal public event. The next morning, Darren had a first meeting as Premier with Rich. The conversation flowed easily, with no sense of awkwardness, as Rich wanted the new Premier to feel free to approach him with any questions or concerns. At the same time, though, Rich had his own plan for the future, and it was at this meeting that he first described what he had in mind. Darren thought it was a great idea, and Rich subsequently plunged into writing a draft bill. As President, he couldn’t formally present such a bill, but he could pass it to the Premier who would bring it forward in the Assembly as a government bill. But first, Darren had to prepare for his first election as leader. After a short period of preparation and planning, he met formally with Rich to tender his government’s resignation and to advise that the election be held on the second Monday in September. Rich accepted the resignation and the advice of date, according to tradition, and the election campaign got underway. In this, of course, he played no part beyond publicly announcing the date of the election. A little over two months later, though, he was back in the rotunda to present the formal invitation to Darren to form a new government, and to conduct the official swearing-in ceremony of the new Cabinet, consisting of a good mix of familiar and new faces. Darren had found no difficulty in leading the party to its third consecutive majority government, and Rich was pleased to have a familiar face to work with during the months ahead. After the Wednesday morning ceremony, the traditional formal lunch for the cabinet was replaced with an afternoon pool party and barbecue dinner at Rich and Tommy’s house for the ministers and their significant others. The food was catered by Aquarius, the whole gathering was friendly and informal, and the guests gave their best impression of a group of rowdy teenagers on a weekend getaway. During the party, one of the younger cabinet members, Alvaro Ortega Valez, the new Minister of Justice, approached his predecessor. At first, Rich thought he might be seeking advice, which was entirely appropriate, but it turned out that Alvaro was angling for something completely different. “Mr. President.” “Please, Alvaro, call me Rich.” “Rich, then.” He dropped his voice to a lower pitch. “I hope it doesn’t bother you if I say that you and your husband are the hottest couple I’ve ever seen. I’d love to have a chance to get to know you both better. Much better, if you understand me.” Rich chuckled. “Right back at you, Alvaro. You’re certainly brave, to approach a senior officer of the state with that as your introduction.” “I had heard from a… friend… that you and your husband sometimes play around.” “Guessing game, then: name begins with ‘B’ or ‘M’.” Alvaro now laughed. “M.” Rich gave a mock sigh, winking at Alvaro as he did so. “I suppose you heard all the details.” “He gave me a very full description. It was… ‘hard’ to hear.” “I bet! Just go over and talk to Tommy yourself, he’s over there now.” Rich watched as Alvaro walked over to Tommy, enjoying the sight of the younger man’s caramel-coloured skin, so like his own, and the way that his tight ass twitched enticingly in his short swimming shorts. As he watched their conversation, Tommy seemed equally taken with the hot young cabinet minister. When Tommy glanced at Rich for a moment, Rich gave him a solemn wink and then grinned. In time, the guests began saying their thanks and heading off homeward, Darren and his wife being among the first to leave. Somehow, it just happened that Alvaro was the last one remaining, and Tommy was the one who told him to “stick around a bit longer if you like.” They nibbled at some more of the leftovers on the buffet, then poured themselves another glass of wine, and settled in the hot tub. It quickly became apparent that Alvaro was a man on a mission and not interested in wasting time with social niceties. It took him less than half a glass of wine to get a hand fastened onto each of the bulges on either side of him, after first getting Rich’s free hand sliding into the back of his shorts through the leg. As Rich’s hand caressed and squeezed his ass, Alvaro turned more and more attention to Tommy’s speedo, getting Tommy to sit up on the edge of the hot tub while he sucked on the bulging front of his tight suit, which bulged even bigger with each passing minute. By this time, Rich had begun sliding Alvaro’s shorts down off his butt, exposing a tantalizingly round and firm pair of cheeks. He then began sliding his hand into the crevice of Alvaro’s ass, teasing the hole as he kept massaging the firm glutes on either side of it. Alvaro moaned, Tommy followed suit, and Rich withdrew his hand, with a good deal of regret, and said, “It’s time to take this party inside, fellows. Bring the drinks.” Tommy had them all strip off their wet swimsuits in the bathroom, and then they headed into the bedroom with three proudly erect cocks leading the way. Once in bed, Alvaro quickly swallowed down Tommy’s cock while Rich dived deep into that enticing ass, lashing his tongue across Alvaro’s hole and making him moan even louder than he had done out at the hot tub. In a few more minutes, Tommy was up on his knees actively face-fucking Alvaro, while Rich had dug right inside that hole with his tongue and was now adding a couple of fingers for good measure. Alvaro gasped out, “What are you waiting for? Fuck me at both ends, guys!” Rich chuckled. “We’re polite. We were waiting for you to ask.” Alvaro groaned in agony. “Just get that cock into my ass and bang me, hard. I want to get spit-roasted!” Permission granted, Rich worked his way swiftly inside Alvaro’s experienced ass, which certainly knew how to relax and take a cock. Tommy continued his rhythmic driving into Alvaro’s throat. In just a minute or so, Alvaro pulled off Tommy’s cock to gasp out, “Shit! You’re going to fuck the cum out of me.” “Get back on there, and quit complaining,” Tommy barked. Interesting, Rich thought, I’ve never seen him taking such a dominant attitude with me, even when I bottomed. Rich redoubled his assault on Alvaro’s hole and, in a few more seconds, Alvaro cried aloud and exploded all over the bed. Rich said, sternly, “That’s our bed you’re messing up. Get down there and lick all that slime up off the duvet.” “Yes, sir,” Alvaro replied, and that set the tone for the evening. Neither Rich nor Tommy was used to playing these kind of dom-sub games, but they quickly got the drift of what Alvaro liked. Over the next hour or so, he got spanked, cock-slapped, ordered to lick feet and asses, and took a total of three loads in his ass – one from Rich, and two in quick succession from Tommy. Once again, Rich realized that this was turning Tommy on even more than it was for him – and he was definitely turned on. After Tommy pumped his two loads into Alvaro, and Alvaro came again from the frequent stroking of his prostate which was something Tommy specialized in when he was fucking, they all relaxed against the pillows with a final glass of wine. That’s when it occurred to Rich to ask a question. “So, tell me, Alvaro, if you like being a sub so much, how did you get on with Mikael? He’s only been an exclusive bottom every time I’ve been with him.” Alvaro gave a little laugh. “Actually, I ordered him to fuck me, just to torment him, and he was as surprised as I was to find out that he actually enjoyed it. He’s a changed man. Watch out the next time you see him.” “Thanks for the warning!” “Speaking of warnings – I think it’s only fair to tell you that I’m not always sub. I just wanted to play it that way tonight because you two are such a hot pair of daddies. I can be a lot more forceful when it suits me. Gabriel found that out the hard way.” “Daddies! Ugh!” Rich was clearly not amused, and Alvaro apologized. But Tommy was following up a different line of thought. “Gabriel?” “The new lifeguard at the pool. He told me that you two are down there doing laps several times a week. He’s got a definite case of the hots for both of you.” “Tell me about him,” Tommy urged. “Well, you wouldn’t see a lot with those big baggy tees and shorts they wear on the guard stand, but he’s actually pretty short – a couple of inches less than me. Has a great firm round ass and a thick seven-incher with a couple of really low-hanging balls. I’ve seen him once or twice when he was off duty, doing laps and then climbing out of the pool in his wet speedo. The bright orange suits they issue the guards go see-through when wet, and the guy’s a walking wet dream. Beautiful curly black hair, olive skin – looks more Italian than Latin American, and awesome big square shoulders – just the thing to grab onto when you’re fucking him. Age? I’d guess twenty or twenty-one, I know he’s in the university and I think he’s in third year. He thought he wanted to be top only, but I soon changed his mind for him. Look for him the next time you’re down there. Like I said, he’s really got a thing for you two.” “And you don’t?” Rich asked dryly. “Okay, I guess I was a bit forward, but who’d pass on a chance like that, especially after I got a good look at both of you out of your suit-tie-dress shirt business clothes. Say, what time is it?” Rich checked his phone. “Close to 11:30.” “I’d better get going.” “Why bother?” Tommy asked. “You can stay – as long as you promise no middle-of-the-night surprise attacks. I’ve got wall-to-wall meetings and appointments tomorrow and need my sleep.” Alvaro laughed. “I’ll try to control myself. I’ve got a busy morning too. You and I will have to get up quietly in the morning so we don’t disturb Mr. Semi-Retired’s extra-long beauty sleep.” Rich growled, “Oh, great, another smart-ass in the house with a quick tongue. It’s bad enough already with two of us here!” They all laughed and settled down to bed. Alvaro considerately moved over to the outside so Tommy and Rich could cuddle together as usual. But then he did slide in behind Tommy and draped an arm over him. Tommy didn’t protest, Rich rested his hand gently on Alvaro’s arm, and they all drifted off to sleep. In the morning, they were actually all awake early enough for another quick round before breakfast. This time, Alvaro helped himself to Rich’s ass and made his cock right at home there, blasting a huge load inside his host’s butt while Tommy licked and sucked his ass, driving him into that frenzied orgasm. They got up then, and Rich and Tommy waved Alvaro into the shower first. As he went, Alvaro looked meaningly at Tommy and said, “Next time, you’re taking it.” Tommy immediately put on a girlish, squealing voice and said, “Oooh, I’m so scared. Save me, save me from the horrible monster!” “I’ll save you, shweetheart.” Rich was giving an unusually bad Humphrey Bogart imitation and the others both made mock protests, with Tommy pushing his finger into his mouth. After breakfast, Alvaro thanked both of them. “You fellows are so awesome, not just to respond when I came on to you, but even letting me stay the night. And after throwing that wonderful party yesterday for all of us, too.” “Glad you enjoyed it,” Tommy said. “Just don’t think I’m going to be this nice all the time,” Rich threw in. Alvaro laughed. “You don’t fool me for a minute, Mr. President. Everyone around the Assembly and the government offices who knows you has been singing your praises, and they always mention how kind and considerate you are to everyone. Why else do you think so many people were so happy when you accepted the Presidency?” With that, he kissed both of them goodbye and headed out towards his own place to get some fresh clothes on before going to work. Rich looked at Tommy. “Was he serious or just laying it on thick?” Tommy smiled and said gently, “He was completely serious, Rich. I hear it all the time, too. Every day, someone is sure to tell me how lucky I am to be married to such a thoughtful man.” “You mean this, don’t you?” “One hundred and ten percent, Rich. And I always give the same response. ‘Yes, I am – very lucky. Thank you for reminding me.’ Rich, you’re always being so damn critical of yourself, so demanding, coming down so hard on yourself for not meeting some impossibly high standard of moral perfection. But there’s no such thing in life as a perfect person. What you are doing is setting by example a new and higher standard for all the people of this country, who admire you so much, to follow themselves. I’m just in awe at how lucky I am to be married to someone who comes so close to ultimate perfection.” Rich kissed him, with tears in his eyes. “That means so much more to me than I could possibly tell you, Tommy. But you’re wrong when you say there’s no such thing as a perfect person. There is. And I’m looking at him now.” “And you are for me too, Rich.” After a couple of minutes of serious kissing, Tommy suddenly remembered to glance at the time. “Shit, Rich, I’m going to be late. Could you possibly please call my office and let them know I’m on my way but got delayed a few minutes? Hopefully the University President won’t be too pissed off.” “Great. I can see the headlines now: “Interim President Moonlights as Messenger Boy.” They laughed, kissed again, and Tommy got on his way while Rich picked up his phone and speed-dialed the office number. After passing along Tommy’s message to his secretary, who laughed knowingly, Rich headed off at a more leisurely pace to his own office, where he sat down with Mikael to work patiently through a stack of pending files, letters, details of his schedule, and more. All the time, though, another part of his mind was busy with his new plan. After the backlog had been cleared, Rich turned his attention to the draft bill he was writing. After about two more months of intermittent writing, revising, and consultations with various experts whose brains he picked in an informal way (including, no surprise, Tommy), Rich had completed his draft legislation embodying his proposal. He arrived at work in the morning, fully prepared to call Darren’s office and set up a meeting. As he walked in, Mikael intercepted him and showed him a news update which had just come in. Again, the news app was showing the plain black screen. MADELAINE FLOWERS, WIFE OF DECEASED PRESIDENT DESMOND FLOWERS, HAS PASSED AWAY PEACEFULLY AT HILLWARD HALL AFTER A PROLONGED STRUGGLE WITH CANCER. “Come in, Mikael.” Once in the office, he put the phone on the “do-not-disturb” setting. The two men just looked at each other for a moment. Then Mikael spoke. “End of an era, isn’t it?” “Indeed.” “I don’t know if you’re aware, but she knew.” Rich thought back to his meeting with her after he assumed the interim Presidency. “Yes. She told me.” “What are you going to do if she left, I don’t know, maybe a memo or letter or some other document where she blew the whistle on him?” “I can see why you’d be worried about that, Mikael. But I don’t think she would. She told me that she didn’t want to trash his reputation -- or see anyone else do it.” It was ironic that his grand plan, which depended first and foremost on the availability of Hillward Hall and the park surrounding it, now had a clear road to go ahead right on the day when he finally felt the draft bill was ready. He hadn’t told Mikael anything about his idea yet, so he kept that thought to himself. That night, for the first time in months, Rich opened up his memoir in his home laptop and resumed writing. ******************** After the death of Desmond Flowers, I’d had an uncomfortable week or so of wondering whether Mikael had gone beyond what I’d asked of him, and actually figured out an imaginative way of offing the President. Then Mikael told me about the 4:00 am phone call he’d gotten from the latest young recruit we’d “interviewed.” The young guy (Grant, I think, was his name) was so upset that he’d barely been able to explain coherently that the President had died right on top of him while fucking him. He’d slid out from underneath the body, rolled the corpse over onto its back, pulled the sheets up, and then got dressed and got the hell out before phoning Mikael, who then called for the ambulance. During the lying in state, the procession, and the funeral, I’d caught Madelaine Flowers watching me with a considering eye. I figured right away that she knew all about the scheme, and I expected to hear from her – but when I did, a couple of months later, I got another surprise. The phone call asked me when I could come and see her. I told the nurse that I was free right then, if it was suitable, and she said it was. When I arrived, she was propped up in bed, looking wan and pale. I’m no doctor, but I could see death written all over her face. “Mr. President, please forgive me for receiving you in this undignified way.” I made a suitable reply, and then she came right to the point. “Mr. Dunnatore, I have found a few notes in my husband’s handwriting, hinting at his plan to blackmail you, with indications of a timeline which he planned to follow after that. I’d been aware for some time of his proclivities towards younger and younger men, but I had not previously realized that he had managed to get you and Mikael involved in his schemes – or anything of his larger plans.” I was too astonished to make any reply. “First of all, I want to tell you that I personally destroyed the notes by burning them. Our marriage had ended years before he died, in all but name, but I see no good to be achieved by any public disclosure of the less savoury sides of his personality.” I assured her that I agreed with her, and I explained my disposition of the video recordings and sworn depositions. I also told her about how I had informed Jonathan Ironwood of enough detail to keep him from going public, since he had no idea of anyone other than myself or Mikael being involved. She nodded, satisfied. Then she went on, choosing her words very carefully. “Mr. Dunnatore, I owe you a heartfelt apology. Like Desmond, I grew up in an older world where religion ruled and where people like you and your husband were the subject of scorn and derision. In the last few months, I’ve realized that I have been very wrong about you. It’s plain to me now that you and your husband are both fine gentlemen, the kind that in my youth we would have described as being “of good breeding” – by which we meant your manners and upbringing more even than your parentage. “I’m very grateful that you haven’t allowed my late husband’s distasteful activities to drive you out of public service, and even more that you have lent your time, talents, and knowledge to assume his position in the interim until a new election can be held for the position. When that day comes, I hope you will consider running for the position in your own right. I think there is no person in Alcantara today who is better suited to be the guiding elder and advisor that the Presidency requires.” “Thank you.” She paused for a moment, but I could see she had something more to say, and so I waited. “Mr. Dunnatore, I also want to thank you for suggesting that I be allowed to remain in Hillward Hall after you assumed the Presidency. That was a very kind-hearted thing to do. I said as much to Premier Caladesa when she told me that this was your wish, and she assured me that such consideration was very much a central part of the man you are. I greatly appreciate it. But now, I shall have to ask you to go, as I shall need to sleep again. Thank you for coming to see me.” It wasn’t in the official book of protocol, but she was such a courtly lady that it seemed entirely appropriate to take her hand in mine and bow my head over it in respect. When I did, she laughed. She actually laughed. “Aha, a Royalist! Goodbye, King Richard the First!” I’m sure her nurse wondered why she was still chuckling as I left her. A week later, she was gone. I went through the public ceremonials of her funeral in a very mixed state of mind, with one part of me wishing that I’d had more of a chance to get to know her as a person. In another week, I was going through another and much more personal struggle as I dealt with my mother’s passing, just a few weeks shy of her eightieth birthday. My office issued a simple public statement that I would be absent from public life for a week, that the funeral would be a small private one, and asking for respect and consideration from the public and the press. My mother’s support for me throughout my various career moves had been strong and unwavering, always. She had been immensely proud to stand in the forefront of the audience when I was sworn in as President and head of state. She told me that my father would have been proud too, but I had my doubts about that. I had no idea of the man he might have become in another thirty years of life, but he had gone to his premature grave still unable to accept the truth of my sexual orientation, although – to give him credit – he had tried. Tommy kept close to me whenever I asked him that week, and that was often. With my mother gone, he had become the sole anchor in my life. The funeral was an intimate one, held in the small chapel which my mother had attended. Besides Tommy and myself, there were Benita and Grigor, Bruno and Mikael (who were now a couple and would soon marry), a few of my mother’s closest friends, and my sister Chloe, who flew in from Canada with husband Allan and their sons, Chad and Andrew. The boys were now 16 and 14, and the last time I’d seen them had been when they’d been 9 and 7, so it was like meeting a pair of pleasant strangers. Both boys were polite and well-spoken with me, and I suspected that their father (who really was an ardent royalist) had primed them thoroughly on how to behave. It took a bit of time to break through that, but at last I got them used to calling me “Uncle” or “Rich.” When I asked them about future plans, Chad didn’t have any clear ideas as yet. But Andrew did. “Uncle Rich, when I’m ready for university, I want to go to Vancouver, just as you did.” I wondered if his words meant more than they said. After my time off for my mother’s funeral, I was able to set an appointment right away with Darren, to go over the draft legislation. He expressed himself pleased with the project and agreed to bring it to the Assembly shortly as a government bill. “When I do, I would like you to be there. I will move to suspend the rules so that you can be permitted to explain the proposal to the members yourself, in more everyday language.” In another couple of weeks, that was what happened. The Assembly voted unanimously to suspend the rules, and thus I found myself standing once more at the podium in front of the Speaker’s Chair, where I had never thought to stand again. “Madam Speaker, and Members of the Assembly. Thank you for permitting me to address you today. As the Premier has explained, the proposed text of this bill is mine, as is the concept behind it, although of course the right to accept, reject, or amend it remains exclusively yours. This bill contains my proposal for a project which I feel is both necessary and long overdue: the establishment of a National Museum for Alcantara.” In that speech, I outlined the concept of what were actually three separate museums, to be built and opened over a period of 10-12 years. The first, to be relocated in a completely redesigned and refurbished Hillward Hall, would be a Museum of History. The other two would be housed in purpose-built buildings on the Hillward Hall campus, which would still leave ample areas of trees and gardens between and around the museums. The second building would house a Museum of Land and Sea, covering the natural environments of our unique group of islands. The final museum to open would be a Museum of the Alcantaran People, documenting the extraordinary mixture of different cultures and ancestries which made Alcantara such a miniature United Nations of the Caribbean. For financing, the project would be funded one-third from the government, leaving two-thirds to be solicited from private and corporate donations. I was very pleased when the bill passed. Amendments were proposed and considered, some accepted, others rejected, as the proposal was closely studied. Although it seemed logical that I should be asked to sit on the Museums Board as it was constituted, I had to decline since it would create a conflict of interest. That involvement could wait for another day. But I remained excited about the Museum project as it unfolded, stage by stage, and kept in close touch with all the activity of building, renovating, and designing and preparing exhibits. Nobody, as far as I know, complained when Tommy was hired, with the consent of the University, as a consultant on the project. He won the contract on his own merits as a leading historical scholar, with no need for any extra push on my part. ******************** If there was one constant in Rich’s life, and Tommy’s life too, for that matter, it was the continued interest in and devotion to swimming as recreation and as exercise. As Rich neared sixty, he could still hold his own against almost any younger swimmer who wasn’t a serious elite-level trainee. What was even more important to him was that he could still hold his own (most days, anyway) against Tommy, who was almost ten years younger. He took good care not to say so, since Tommy remained firmly convinced that he was definitely in the lead and that it was no contest now, if indeed it ever had been. One afternoon, down at the big indoor aquatic facility near the waterfront, they were racing each other lap by lap, laughing a great deal at the way they had to take longer breathers after each lap than when they were young. But, as Rich pointed out, they were still showing their heels to many younger swimmers who were less dedicated. At the end of a butterfly lap, Rich noticed the lifeguard climbing down from his stand – and suddenly remembered what Alvaro had told them that night a month earlier. He nudged Tommy, tipped his head sideways towards the lifeguard, and then looked in time to see the whistle coming up to the guard’s mouth. He knew what that meant. Quitting time – the pool was closing. He snapped at Tommy, “One more freestyle,” and they plunged back in just as the lifeguard blew the whistle. Around them, they could see people scrambling out of the pool, but they held on to the end. They touched the wall in a dead heat, came up to breathe, and Rich had just time to snap, “And again!” as the whistle sounded a second time while they launched the return leg. As they came up to the wall this time, the lifeguard was standing right there over them, already blowing on his whistle as they came up for air. This time, they knew their luck had run out, and they hoisted themselves out of the pool. The lifeguard, short, compact, and muscular with curly dark hair and broad shoulders was plainly Gabriel, exactly as Alvaro had described him. He proceeded to chew them out for ignoring the whistle, but Rich innocently pretended that he hadn’t heard it. Gabriel wasn’t fooled for a minute. He knew exactly what game they were playing, and he was secretly thrilled to play along with them. His lecture lasted just long enough to let the other swimmers clear off the deck, while he sandblasted Rich with a spate of “Sir” and “Mr. President,” as he went up one side of the President and down the other, very, very respectfully, of course. By the time he stopped to draw breath, they were alone. He looked at them slyly, and said, “You know, a guy could get the impression that you actually wanted to talk to him.” Tommy replied, “Well, after you sent Alvaro to tell us all about you, what would you expect?” Gabriel chuckled. “Alvaro? I didn’t ask him to do anything. But he was right, I did want to meet you.” Rich came in then. “Well, now that you have, what else do you want?” “I want to grab you two, pull your suits off, and begin sucking and fucking right here and now, but of course I can’t. Have to lock up. So?” Tommy turned to Rich, “I think he’s angling for an invitation to our place.” Gabriel innocently replied, “I wouldn’t object.” Twenty minutes later, the party had reconvened in the hot tub. Gabriel was seated in between Rich and Tommy and had both his hands full while four eager hands were roaming all over his body. This hot young lifeguard wasn’t about to waste any time. Suddenly, he plunged his hands down under the water, bringing them back up with his speedo in hand and tossing it away. Then, he proceeded to pull down Rich’s suit, and right out there in the open, in the hot tub, sat down all the way on Rich’s rigid dick. “Wow!” Tommy said in awe. “You’re a fast operator, to be able to take him that quickly.” “When I saw you guys coming in, I went to the bathroom on my next work break, lubed myself up, and stuffed a butt plug up my ass. I’m more than ready.” With that, he began to ride Rich with great energy, while Rich warned Tommy to “keep an eye open for any drones.” They both laughed, Gabriel looked his question, and Rich just snapped, “I’ll tell you later. Concentrate on what you’re doing right now.” “Yes, sir.” Gabriel began riding him faster and faster, working his ass muscles around Rich’s cock, and soon groaned that he was going to cum. Rich pulled him up out of the tub and had him lean over the edge on his hands while Rich plunged back in. Tommy got under him, mouth open, ready to catch his load when it flew. Another minute, and everything happened at once. Rich slammed back into Gabriel’s ass and exploded, Gabriel’s cock contracted and fired a big wad right into Tommy’s mouth, and all three moaned aloud in near-perfect three-part harmony. Then all three of them flopped back into the hot tub, trying to catch their breaths. At last, Rich said reluctantly, “We’d better head back inside. Sooner or later, our luck is going to run out and someone will spot us.” Once they were in the bedroom, the fun resumed. This time, Gabriel wanted to plow Tommy, but Tommy wanted to do Rich. That sounded like a fuck train, and a fuck train was just what happened. After about five minutes of slow, easy fucking in that order, Tommy said, “Switch!” When the train reassembled. Tommy was now fucking Gabriel while Gabriel was buried inside Rich. After another ten minutes in this position, Gabriel yelled that he was going to cum again. This time, his load spurted inside Rich’s gripping ass while Tommy let it fly inside Gabriel’s cute firm fuckhole. Rich didn’t cum, but he hardly noticed as he was shortly enjoying the post-fuck cuddling with the hot young lifeguard so much. When Tommy dived right in and joined them in the pile of bodies, 1the cuddling suddenly got twenty times better, at least in Rich’s admittedly biased opinion. After a quick shower, Gabriel left with a kiss and a wink at 7:45 PM. Rich and Tommy were faced with the bleak prospect of a late dinner still to be prepared. Rich made an executive decision. “Fish sticks and coleslaw. Spice ‘em up with the sauce of your choice.” Ten minutes later, they sat down to eat, and Tommy suddenly laughed aloud. “A beautiful gourmet kitchen, one better than average amateur cook, one semi-pro chef, and we’re eating fish sticks out of the freezer.” Rich innocently replied, “I’m not a semi-pro chef, where did you get that idea from?” A moment later, a fast but loving hand gave him a sharp smack upside the head. Although it seemed like just a matter of a week here and a week there, it was almost 20 months after Rich had accepted the appointment as Interim President before Darren, the Premier, announced the date for the formal Presidential election. At that announcement, Rich realized that the time had come for him to wind down his activities. Mikael and the rest of his staff began planning final events, including one last pool party for the Assembly members and their families, a monumental event which proved an immense success. That party, again catered by Aquarius, took place a week before the deadline for nominations. By tradition, the names of candidates were formally announced all at once on the morning after the deadline. Early that morning, though, Darren gave Rich a slightly panicky phone call. The two men had long since become good friends as well as a smooth-working team, so there was nothing out of the ordinary about the call. It was the unnerved tone in Darren’s voice that made Rich sit up sharply over his coffee and breakfast. “Darren, what’s wrong?” “As you know, the deadline for the Presidential nominations was at midnight last night. And there are no candidates. None. Zip.” “What the hell is that all about?” Darren chose his words carefully. “I reached out informally this morning to a couple of likely prospects and got the same answer from both of them. They aren’t interested in running against you.” “But, Darren, I’m not running! It’s been clear from the start that this was only temporary for me. Hang on, is it okay if I cut Tommy in on this?” “Sure thing. Nothing especially confidential here.” Rich waved Tommy over and put the phone on speaker. After Darren and Tommy exchanged greetings, Rich said, “Darren, tell Tommy what you just told me.” Darren repeated his previous statements. Tommy whistled in surprise. Then he said to Rich, “So, what happens now?” Rich quickly replied, “Darren, just issue a statement that I am not running. Then push the deadline for nominations back a week and reopen the process. That should take care of it.” For the first time, a note of hesitation crept into Darren’s normally firm, assured voice. “Umm… it might not be quite that simple, Rich.” “What do you mean?” “The two people I talked to told me that there’s a petition going around on the quiet, collecting signatures of people asking you to run for the Presidency and continue the work you’re doing. They both signed it. There are dozens of pages of signatures already.” “You’re not serious. You can’t be.” “Solemn word of honour, Rich.” “Shit.” Rich couldn’t ever remember feeling this trapped since the day of his first meeting as a new Minister with Desmond Flowers. He turned and looked at Tommy, sure that his fear showed on his face. To his total astonishment, he saw in Tommy’s expression nothing but complete serenity and happiness. And it was Tommy who spoke next. “It’s okay, Darren, he’s going to do it.” “Tommy, I did not say that!” “I know, but you will. You’ll see.” Darren cut in. “That will be great. I’ll meet you in your office with the official papers in an hour. Oh, hang on, the other phone just pinged me.” After a momentary pause, he came back on. “The petitions have just been dropped off at my office. The staff are counting the signatures now. I have to get back up there, pronto. I came down to the Cabinet chamber so I wouldn’t be overheard. See you in an hour, Rich!” He clicked off. Rich turned to Tommy. “What the actual hell, Tommy???!!” Tommy sat down facing Rich, took his hands into his own, and patiently explained it. “Dear Rich, can you not see that the people of this country love you? So much. They love you so much, and they aren’t willing to lose you. Rich, for the last 21 months you’ve been going above and beyond the call of duty in so many ways. As you’ve done that, you’ve reshaped the whole government of this country without even trying. You’ve made it more open, more responsive, more accessible to people who need help, and you’ve done it all by setting the example. “You’re so highly respected that the younger Assembly members and their staffs look to you, to see how you handle tricky situations, and then model their behaviour on yours. How do I know that? Because several of them told me so at the big party last week. The admiration in their eyes was impossible to miss. Flowers wanted to remake this country as a dictatorship. You’ve taken it so far in the opposite direction that his kind of future is not only impossible now, but unthinkable.” “But why are you pushing me to continue? Isn’t that enough?” “Rich, it’s never enough. Not for our people and not for you. You’re still finding new ways to tweak your approaches to your job, and that’s a clear sign that your work isn’t done. The petition is another one. The people are telling you that your style, your leadership, is important, and needs to continue. And as long as I’ve known you and loved you, you have never given a job up half done or incomplete. I can’t see you being happy to do it for the first time now. You can certainly walk away if you choose, but that’s not who you are, and in six months you’ll be all miserable and down on yourself for abandoning your work.” “I don’t know, Tommy.” “Think about it while you’re getting dressed. I’ll buzz my office that I’m going to be a bit late, and then I’ll drive you downtown.” Half an hour later, they met at the door, with Tommy jingling the car keys. Rich put a hand out to stop him. “Tommy. I just want you to know that you were, as always, 100% right. And I need to thank you for explaining it all to me, so I could make the right choice myself.” They kissed each other lovingly, and then headed out into the serene, clear morning. At the Assembly building, Tommy stopped the car, and asked. “You’re sure, Rich?” “Yes. I’m sure now – thanks to you.” “Have a good day, Mr. President.” They kissed again, and Rich got out of the car and walked into the building. He wasn’t actually completely sure yet, but he would figure it out. Once into his office, he sat down with another cup of coffee and thought it all through again. Slowly, it dawned on him that Tommy had been right, that he loved the work he was doing, and wasn’t ready to give it up yet. Then why the fear, the hesitation? And then he understood at last. He was afraid to impose any more on Tommy. The man he loved had sacrificed so much of his time and efforts to advance Rich’s political career, and then gave up so much more in time and privacy once he’d been elected. Rich thought of so many things. He thought of days on the beach, evenings on the terrace, and nights of love, of meals at Aquarius and meals at home, of campaign rallies and stressful meetings, of the love given freely to him during that terrible week when he was writing his memoirs, and the complete acceptance of the whole sordid story of the interviews, of that magical night when the bill for civil marriage had passed, with all the love and praise and acceptance lavished on both of them by the people – their people. Last of all, he thought of breakfast that morning, and all the love Tommy had showed by his ready willingness to share Rich with the country. And at last, he had his answer. He would and could go on in this position, not so much because he wanted to go on (although he did), but because Tommy, who loved him so much, wanted him to continue. Just as he reached that conclusion, his secretary came in and announced, “Mr. President, the Premier is here.” “Thank you, Emilie. Good morning, Darren – again. Coffee?” “No thanks, I’ve had enough coffee for three normal mornings already.” He put down the stack of papers he was carrying on Rich’s desk. “Is that what I think it is?” “The petition. Yes. Preliminary count shows well over five thousand signatures.” “May I look?” “Of course.” Rich started browsing through the stack of papers. He noted familiar signatures, and others whose owners he knew but whose writing he had never seen. On the third page, two signatures jumped out at him: “Jonathan Ironwood” and, directly under it, “Marian Ironwood,” with a little smiley face and a heart after it. His neighbour. He shook his head in utter disbelief. This whole thing had become totally surreal. When he looked up, Darren was holding the nomination forms, and smiling at him. “Okay, Rich. Are you ready?” “I’m ready.” He filled in the form, signed and dated it, and handed it back to Darren, who witnessed it. Darren then dryly commented, “We don’t really need to fill in the page with 50 signatures of registered voters, do we?” Both men laughed. “Are you ready to go?” “Go where?” Rich looked puzzled. “Look at the time, Rich. It’s five to eleven. Time for the press conference and official announcement. We’ve moved it to the rotunda; there’s a determined audience of voters waiting to watch this one.” Five minutes later, the Premier stepped to the microphone, with Rich standing in the background. Rich looked over the larger-than-usual throng of journalists, many with cameras raised to record the moment. He scanned the audience, which looked like well over two hundred people. Then, at the back of the crowd, he spotted Tommy. He smiled, and Tommy smiled back, giving him a two thumbs up salute. Darren spoke. “Good morning, and welcome to our press conference. The major news today is, as all of you know, the announcement of the nominees for the Presidential election. May I have the envelope, please?” The wisecrack drew laughs. “There is, in fact, only one nominee. The next President of Alcantara is therefore chosen by acclamation. May I be the first to extend congratulations to… Richard Dunnatore!” A storm of cheering erupted, as Darren first shook Rich’s hand, then hugged him fiercely. Returning to the microphone, Darren gestured for quiet. “As many of you know, there has been a petition circulating, asking Mr. Dunnatore to continue in this position. It was delivered to my office this morning, and I have it here with me. There are over five thousand signatures. Honestly, Rich, it’s enough to make a Premier jealous!” There was another huge laugh as he held the petition papers up, riffling the sheets for the cameras to see. “But that’s enough from me. I know you really want to hear from the man of the hour himself.” He stepped back, gesturing to Rich to take up the microphone. “Thank you, all. I’m sorry to say, I don’t have my acceptance speech prepared. Up until I learned about the petition, just a couple of hours ago, I wasn’t planning on running. I trust you will all forgive the Premier for bending the rules by getting me to sign the official nomination form this morning.” The laughter that followed gave him a chance to catch Tommy’s eye again. “I know that many of you will want to thank me for changing my mind, and I appreciate your gratitude very much. But I want to redirect your thanks, if you will allow me, to the man who really deserves your acclamation for persuading me, for making me see that I could and should continue as President of this wonderful country. He’s hiding in the back of the crowd over there, and I’m sure you all know who I mean.” As the cameras all swivelled around on cue, the audience immediately began chanting, “Tom-my! Tom-my! Tom-my! Tom-my!” while the people closest to him pointed him out. Seeing himself trapped, Tommy shook his head, with a rueful smile, and made his way through the crowd to the podium, where he stepped up and stood beside Rich. Rich put his arm around Tommy’s waist and they both waved to the cheering crowd. Then Rich turned to Tommy and kissed him, while Darren thumped them both on the shoulders, with the sound of the cheering washing over them like the waves on the beach at Bahía de la Paz. Epilogue Obituary from The Alcantara Daily Sun Monday, March 20, 2051 Richard Anthony Dunnatore, former President of Alcantara and Founder of the Alcantara National Museums, passed away on Sunday of natural causes. He was 84 years old. Dunnatore was born in Toronto, Canada, on October 17, 1967. His father, Robert Dunnatore, was a noted Canadian businessman and financier. His mother, Lucinda Perez Ortega, was born in Alcantara. From boyhood through his teenage years, he was an elite swimmer, and he maintained his interest in swimming, remaining in practice throughout his life. He was educated in Vancouver and Toronto, in political science and law, and was admitted to the bar in 1995. After practising law in Toronto for a number of years, and after qualifying for Alcantaran citizenship, he relocated to Alcantara and settled in Portavedra with his life partner and husband, Dr. Tomoyoshi “Tommy” Takahashi. Dunnatore was responsible for opening the Alcantaran office of a major Canadian law firm in which he was a senior partner. In 2009, he decided to enter politics, winning election as a member of the Legislative Assembly, and was appointed to the Cabinet as Minister of Justice in the administration of Premier Benita Caladesa. As a legislator and minister, he was responsible for passage of the laws creating the Supreme Court of Alcantara and the system of small claims courts. His most famous achievement, and the one of which he was proudest, was the passage of his private member’s bill creating the institution of civil marriage open to all. Rich and Tommy, as they were universally known, became the first same-sex couple to wed under this legislation in 2013, marrying in a home ceremony. Upon the death of former President Desmond Flowers, Dunnatore agreed to defer his planned retirement from public service to serve as Interim President. In this role, he won such broad public support and acclaim that he decided against retiring at that time, won election to the position in 2021, and continued to serve as President for a further fifteen years. During his years as President, he advised on the implementation of his idea for the creation of three national museums for the country. After stepping down from the Presidency in 2036, he became the Chairman of the Museums Board and led several fund-raising campaigns, himself making sizable donations to the cost of each of the three museums. In his honour, the new building housing the third museum, the National Museum of Alcantara’s People, was named Dunnatore Hall. Beyond his work on the Museums Board, his vast knowledge, shrewd advice, and sage counsel was sought and valued by a whole generation of Alcantaran leaders and legislators. Mourned by the people of his adopted country as a wise and compassionate statesman and leader, Dunnatore is survived and especially missed by his beloved Tommy, by his sister Chloe (Allan), and nephews Chad (Alicia) and Andrew (Markus). The casket will be available for public viewing and paying of respects in the rotunda of the Legislative Assembly building on Wednesday and Thursday, March 22 and 23, from 10:00 AM to 5:00 PM each day. Dunnatore’s casket will be moved in public procession from the Assembly to Dunnatore Hall on Friday morning at 9:30 AM. The state funeral will be held at 11:00 AM on Friday, March 24, in the atrium of Dunnatore Hall. The official tribute to Mr. Dunnatore will be delivered by President Mikael Groening. March 24 has been declared as a National Day of Mourning and a public holiday. Afterword by the Author This biographic tale should really be considered a double memoir, since I played such a significant role in Rich’s life, as he did in mine. I chose to cast it as a narrative story, mainly so that my voice wouldn’t unduly dominate the life story of the man I loved so dearly. The passages from Rich’s memoir, written mainly at the time of the Flowers crisis, I have mostly quoted verbatim. For the Flowers crisis, which amazingly has remained largely hidden from public view, I have a small confession to make. After Rich’s death, I opened the sealed envelope (which he had directed should be destroyed) and read the sworn depositions. Some of the material in the depositions I retroactively incorporated into his memoir. I did this because it was important to me that his role in this series of events should not be misconstrued when it finally did come to light, as it surely would at some time in the future. I’m sure Rich would forgive me for ignoring his stated wishes. We always did forgive each other. Although Rich sometimes teased me about writing his life story, and I always said I couldn’t and wouldn’t do it, I was actually planning and working on it at intervals throughout our life together. My contribution is rooted in my memories, in numerous notes and journals which I wrote during our years together, and in a few pieces of creative fiction in which I’ve indulged for certain private moments when I was not present. His death in 2051 left an aching hole in my life and in my heart. I miss him so much. As I always tried to be for him, so he truly was for me – the wind that filled my sails. Tomoyoshi “Tommy” Takahashi, Ph.D. Portavedra, Alcantara March 2055 Editor’s Note Professor Takahashi’s manuscript was placed by him in a sealed envelope and given to the Museum, with instructions that it not be opened until fifty years after his death, which occurred on November 17, 2061. The envelope was opened in March of 2112, and the contents are here published for the first time. Due to its historic interest, this uniquely personal portrait of a leading figure in Alcantara’s history is here presented exactly as its author wrote it. Even the slight errors of fact and obvious mistakes in dates and the like have been left uncorrected, as have the explicitly sexual passages, out of respect for the author and for his subject.

All the pieces are settling into place, with partnerships forming and more than a little talk of being exclusive. It would be especially great if Artem and Franco can crack through their inhibitions and learned roles and share more of their selves with each other. My question: where does this leave Liam, particularly if Max and Alex decide to go exclusive? How is he going to cope with being shut out from that aspect of his very special relationship with the prince?

The story's not over yet!

Chapter 9 Endings and Beginnings Tuesday morning dawned bright and sunny. There’d been a burst of rainy weather for a couple of days, but the warm sunshine set the water steaming off the plants and trees. On the terrace, the oleanders and hibiscus were in full bloom, their fragrances filling the air. Bees and hummingbirds buzzed and flitted among the luxuriant blooms. It was a calm, peaceful morning – until shortly after 7:00 AM when the morning stillness of the lazy Alcantaran dawn was shattered by splashes, roars, and shrieks of laughter. Rich and Tommy were playing in the pool again, having already finished an energetic round of playing in bed. This time, it was Rich who’d started the action off. He’d woken up with the pre-dawn twilight glow at about 5:40 AM, with a clear head, a happy frame of mind, and a serious attack of morning wood. A quick trip to the bathroom emptied his bladder (with some technical difficulties) but did nothing at all to solve his other problem. Back in bed, he slowly peeled back the duvet to reveal Tommy, asleep in his favourite position, face down with his legs slightly spread. If that wasn’t an open invitation to a surprise attack, Rich didn’t know what was. He spread some lube on his erection, moved slowly around until he was between Tommy’s legs, then aimed his rigid pole right at Tommy’s ass crack, moved downwards… and stabbed his cock right into the mattress. Tommy had just been pretending to be asleep and had twisted away with his customary agility. “Hah! Fooled you!” “You faker!” “Me? You’re the one who keeps falling for it over and over!” With that, Tommy grabbed Rich and, with a swift wrestling move, twisted him over onto his back, quickly lifting his legs and pushing them up over his shoulders. He then plunged his head into Rich’s ass crack and began furiously eating ass. The hunter had become the hunted. Rich twisted and moaned on the bed, grinding out the words that he’d been about to fuck Tommy, but Tommy wasn’t letting him up. Truth be told, Rich didn’t actually seem to mind that much. Before long, his ass was sopping wet, the hole loosening up nicely, and Tommy had moved into position, keeping a finger securely anchored in Rich’s hole so Rich couldn’t pull the same trick and turn the tables again. Using the finger as a guide, Tommy slipped his dick inside Rich’s tight ass and sank it all the way to the bottom. Only then did he pull the finger out. After a minute of exchanging passionate kisses with Rich, mouths locked together, Tommy began fucking his husband deep and hard, driving it in on a slightly different angle each time to keep Rich’s entire gut stirred into a ferment of excitement. Rich was moaning all the time, urging Tommy to give it to him, and heaving his hips up into the air to help Tommy get in deeper. After a few minutes of this, Tommy pulled out, rolled Rich onto his side, and plunged in from behind. Playing big spoon always excited Tommy, as he threw his leg across Rich and drove deeply into his ass. As always, fucking Rich this way was too much for Tommy to resist, and he quickly felt his orgasm coming. He spat out the words, “Cumming in your hole!” and then it happened. Tommy jammed his hips up hard against Rich’s firm ass cheeks and let it fly inside him, the sperm jetting deep into Rich’s body and then oozing out around Tommy’s dick as soon as he started moving again. At last, Tommy slipped out and flopped on his back beside Rich, his outstretched arm and hand still stroking the slope of Rich’s back muscles as they tapered towards his waist. After a few minutes, Rich rolled over until he was leaning up over Tommy, bending down to kiss him deeply, with the love light shining out of his eyes… until Rich suddenly grabbed Tommy’s legs, pulled them into the air, and dived into Tommy’s crack, gleefully yelling, “Gotcha!” He swiped a handful of Tommy’s cum out of his ass and pushed it into the tight hole, fingering it with one hand while he kept the legs captive with the other – not that Tommy was actually fighting him. His rigid cock, still glistening with the lube he’d applied earlier, made its way easily into the younger man’s fuck tunnel, and at last they were locked up against each other, hips to butt and tongue to tongue. There Rich held his position, slowly easing his way in and out of Tommy’s tight butt as he kissed his husband, murmuring words of love to him, and smiling at Tommy’s equally loving responses. At last, Rich began moving faster, speeding up his pumping motions while Tommy urged him on. It took only a minute, and Rich punched his cock all the way inside Tommy’s ass while his seed pumped out into his lover. After another minute, he eased out and fell onto the bed beside Tommy, while they kept embracing and kissing each other. This time, it was Tommy who leaped out of bed like a rocket, shrieked “Skinny dip!,” and raced off towards the glass doors in the living room, pulling up sharply just a split second before Rich yelled, “Hold on!” “I know,” Tommy replied, “broad daylight. Okay, speedos first.” Once they were both decently covered (actually a bit indecently, since both their cocks were still at least semi-hard), they plunged into the water, making enough noise to wake the dead – or at least the immediate neighbours. They weren’t too concerned about it, since Mr. and Mrs. DiBiasi, on the one side, were stone deaf, the house on the other side was vacant, and the next neighbour beyond there was out of the country. Beyond that house was Mrs. Ironwood, and both of them were rather hoping they would wake her up. In due time, though, they recovered their normal calm, got out of the pool, got dressed, and organized breakfast, which they ate outside with complete decorum. Good thing that they did get it all out of their systems, because that day was the state funeral and national day of mourning for Desmond Flowers and Rich in particular needed to be on his best behaviour. For the whole of Monday, the casket had lain in state in the rotunda of the Assembly building while a steady line of people moved through to pay their respects. Condolence books had been opened at government offices throughout the three islands, and people were invited to sign these, and to include personal memories of the President as they did so. The Premier and Cabinet had passed through the rotunda as soon as the lying-in-state opened, immediately behind Madelaine Flowers and her daughter, Ariane. The funeral procession began at 10:00 AM on Tuesday at the Memorial Square on the waterfront and wound its way through the tangle of narrow streets to the cathedral of St. Mary, where the funeral would be held. The streets were lined with hundreds of Alcantarans, solemnly bowing their heads as the casket of their elder statesman rolled slowly by. At the cathedral, the eight pallbearers from the Alcantaran Guards stepped into place and, with impressive skill, drew the casket from the gun carriage. Then, in rigid order, they shouldered the casket and proceeded to march slowly into the echoing church while the honorary pallbearers, Benita and Rich among them (and there’s irony for you, Mikael thought as he watched), took station behind them and followed them up the broad steps. Madelaine Flowers sat erect in the front row, presenting an appearance both fragile and formidable at once. The handkerchief clasped firmly in her hand touched her face only once, as the casket was borne out at the end of the service. Both Ariane Flowers Ortega, the President’s daughter, and Benita Caladesa, the Premier, gave eulogies, but both were curiously grand but impersonal – as if to praise the role, rather than the man. The service was not brief, but it was dignified and tasteful, as was the later graveside ceremony before the casket was slowly carried into the family vault. Rich got a glimpse of Madelaine Flowers as she was walking away on her son-in-law’s arm, her face looking notably pale and drawn. The remainder of the day had been decreed as a public day of mourning. Stores and offices were closed, although the airport remained open. The national radio network played solemn music of great beauty in place of the normal upbeat party mix and greatest hits repertoire. On Alcantara24, a panel discussion reviewed the numerous achievements of Desmond Flowers. Watching it all gave Rich a very curious feeling of duality. The public image of Desmond Flowers was being praised to the skies, and that was fair enough, but of the private man there was no sign, no hint. Certainly, the man he had known was impossible to relate to the many tributes he heard. Since Rich was essentially a kind-hearted man, he couldn’t help hoping (for the sake of Madelaine and Ariane especially) that the private man would remain well concealed. That whole sordid story was too distasteful, too hurtful to his relatives, to bear repeating right now. The other part of him, though, felt like leaping up and down and cheering aloud, now that his ordeal was finally over. It was terribly tempting to break into song at top volume with Ding! Dong! The Witch is Dead! -- not that he would do such a thing, of course, but the momentary urge to do it cropped up at intervals during that day. By now, Rich had told the entire story of Flowers and his blatantly illegal conspiracy to Tommy in installments, swearing him to secrecy as he did so. What he was doing by sharing the story was strictly forbidden, but it wasn’t precisely illegal. After all, as Tommy so rightly pointed out, the normal penalty would be to get thrown out of Cabinet and Rich had already decided to get out before he could be thrown out – so the issue was moot. “And,” Tommy added in his best mock-serious tone, “just remember that I know how to use terms like ‘moot’ properly the next time you feel like pulling rank over me with your legal knowledge.” “Tommy, that’s a very sarcastic comment and totally deserves a thorough fucking.” “Promises, promises, promises.” Rich expected nothing of any significance to appear on his agenda between then and his press conference on Friday to announce his retirement. He was wrong. On Thursday morning, Miriam informed him that Jonathan Ironwood had requested an appointment that day. “I slotted him in for ten o’clock, since your calendar was clear until after lunch.” Rich sighed, but he nodded and agreed that ten o’clock would be fine. Lucy asked to speak to him privately for a few moments, and that was done. He then proceeded to make one phone call, telling Mikael to come to his office ten minutes before ten o’clock. He had to give Ironwood one thing; the man was punctual and a respecter of the value of time. Miriam showed him into the office at ten o’clock on the dot. “Good morning, Mr. Ironwood. What can I do for you?” “Well, Minister, I’m not exactly sure that there’s anything you can do at this stage.” “That’s rather cryptic. And please, park the protocol, Jonathan. First names are fine.” Ironwood shifted in his seat. “I’ll come straight to the point, Rich. I’m assuming, as everyone else seems to do, that you plan to run for the Social Democratic leadership, to succeed Premier Caladesa.” “That remains to be seen. I’ve made no announcement, as you know, although I have made my decision.” “There’s something you should be aware of before you publicly announce your intentions. To put it bluntly, I’ve been reliably informed that you’ve been running a prostitution racket in your office, forcing candidates for government positions to have sex with you before their applications are approved.” Rich looked at him quizzically. “Just that, or is there more?” “I should think that’s enough. If you successfully contest the leadership and assume the Premier’s position, I plan to use this information in the subsequent election campaign to bring you down and ruin your party in the process.” Rich chuckled. “My, my, you do have big ambitions. But if that’s all you know, Jonathan, you will shortly be grateful to me for saving you from making the worst political blunder in Alcantara’s history.” Ironwood frowned, feeling uncertain, and getting an uneasy sensation that he may have underestimated his opponent. Rich hit the intercom button on his desk phone. “Yes, sir,” Miriam promptly answered. “Please ask Mr. Szymanski to be good enough to step in, will you, Miriam?” A moment later, she opened the door and admitted Mikael. Rich made the introductions. “Jonathan, this is Mikael Szymanski, the late President’s executive assistant. Mikael, Jonathan Ironwood, leader of the Conservadores.” “We’ve met,” they both answered in unison. “Jonathan, did your information extend to the fact that Mikael was also involved in what you’ve defined as a prostitution racket?” “No, it didn’t.” Ironwood’s surprised face confirmed the truth of his answer. “Well, to bring you fully up to speed, the process actually began with Mikael receiving all the applications for positions on the President’s staff and weeding out all female applicants and all male applicants over the age of 30. He then proceeded to interview all remaining applicants, and in the course of those interviews he attempted to seduce each one. The key to this unusual process was the fact that Mikael is one hundred percent what is known in gay life as a bottom – the passive partner, if you’re unaware of the term. “If the applicant was successfully seduced by Mikael, he was then referred to me for the second interview. In this office, I would then seduce the applicant a second time, this time with me taking the top or active role while the candidate was expected to be the bottom. If the applicant successfully completed that phase, then he would be referred onward for a final interview.” Jonathan Ironwood’s eyes were glittering with barely disguised glee and malice as he prepared to deliver what he fondly imagined would be the coup de grace. “To whom?” “President Flowers.” “But what did all of this have to do with the President? I could see why you two would enjoy your fun and games with a string of attractive young men, but why would President Flowers care two hoots about your weird, dirty perversions?” Rich turned to Mikael. “Mikael, would you be good enough to show Jonathan the video you have on your tablet?” He then pressed a switch to dim the lights. Although Rich couldn’t see the video from his seat, he could hear the soundtrack loud and clear – and he knew, from a previous viewing, that the visual image was clear as a bell too. The sound of male voices uttering moans and cries of passion filled the room along with assorted exclamations of “fuck me, daddy” and “take it in your boy pussy.” And then, the unmistakable voice of Desmond Flowers: “Cumming, boy, I’m shooting in you, filling up your hole.” This was followed by the loud groaning of the older man in the throes of orgasm. Jonathan Ironwood’s jaw had just about fallen off his face in shock. And Rich went right on. “Mikael, please explain how and where you got this video clip.” “I succeeded in cracking the password on the President’s private laptop. In it he had stored over a hundred similar videos. Most of them were films of me being fucked by candidates or of the same candidates themselves being fucked by the Minister – there is a hidden camera, by the way, placed in this office by Flowers’ orders, and another in my office. Among them were several such as the one I just showed you, of Flowers himself enjoying the physical pleasures of gay sex with the young, good-looking staffers we procured for him. These were clearly filmed in his bedroom at Hillward Hall.” Ironwood was in such a state of shock that he couldn’t utter a word. And then Rich delivered the kicker. “You are probably wondering, Jonathan, how and why all of this happened. The simple, short answer is that both Mikael and myself were blackmailed into doing it, by Flowers. He’d acquired a video clip of Mikael and me, enjoying ourselves together, which Mikael rashly filmed at his apartment without telling me he was doing it.” Rich coughed meaningly. Both he and Jonathan cast a reproachful gaze on Mikael, and Mikael, on cue, blushed and avoided catching anyone’s eye. “The only part for which I have no corroborating evidence is the conversation Flowers had with me last week, in which he told me that he planned to use his hold over me to make me his cats-paw – once I was chosen as Premier – to substantially alter the Constitution, effectively giving over the actual executive power of the government into his hands. “I finally decided that the only way to roadblock his bid for total power was to launch a pre-emptive strike, retiring from political life and taking him down with me by releasing the videos for public consumption myself. That’s when I enlisted Mikael’s assistance to find them for me. He was equally willing, as I was, to risk the consequences of public exposure and condemnation in order to put a stop to Flowers. I think I speak for him as well in saying that both of us hated Flowers for what he had done to us.” Mikael nodded in confirmation. Jonathan finally regained the power of speech. “This is mind-boggling. How long has this been going on?” Rich replied, “If you look closely at the video clip, you may recognize the young man as Bruno Bergmann. He was the first candidate to make it all the way through this process to the President’s service. He stayed on the Presidential staff for three years and has since become the executive assistant to the President of the University of Alcantara, a position he’s filled for six years.” Jonathan stared at him. “Almost a decade…. This is madness, sheer madness – it’s total dynamite, with a lit fuse. I’m not touching it.” Rich replied, “Wise man. Desmond Flowers followed the not uncommon pattern of the man who publicly condemns gay people and gay sex while privately and guiltily enjoying it. Since many members of your party, not only Flowers, have expressed similar sentiments in public, it would probably put the final nail in the Conservadores’ coffin if this material became public – to say nothing of the fact that it’s only two days since his funeral and public opinion of him is still at an all-time high. The people who loved him would certainly crucify both of us if you forced me to release these videos in my own defence. Since I still plan on making my exit anyway, nobody but a born bloody fool would try to take a swipe at me with this material as I’m on my way out the door. If nothing else, I imagine Madelaine Flowers would sue any such fool within an inch of their lives.” Ironwood nodded agreement. “For the record, I plan on keeping a copy of these videos in a safe and secure place, for my own safeguard and protection only. Mikael and I have both sworn out notarized oaths about our actions and the actions of Flowers; these will be stored safely with the videos, in a sealed envelope, with instructions that it is to be destroyed without being examined upon my death. Much as I hated and despised the man, I have no interest in blackening his reputation now that he’s dead – if only because of my sympathy for Madelaine Flowers. I’m sure she must have known all about his bedroom activities and I have no wish to hurt her any further. I will be announcing my retirement from politics at the press conference which I’ve scheduled tomorrow morning.” Jonathan Ironwood stood. “Thank you for explaining all this to me. I appreciate your doing so. You are quite right, I was on the threshold of doing something that would have finished my political career for good. I’d also like to apologize to both of you personally, even though it wasn’t my fault, for the ordeal that the late President put you through. Neither of you deserved to be manipulated in that way.” “Thank you, sir,” Mikael replied. “Thanks, Jonathan. I appreciate your concern. Mikael, could you just stay for a minute longer?” Rich walked Jonathan to the door, and shook hands with him, then closed the door and returned. “So, Mikael, what’s next for you? You no longer have a boss or, for that matter a job.” “I really don’t know. I just needed to get through the funeral and this before I could even think about my future.” “Understood. It’s too bad that I’m just on the point of leaving, I’d have been happy to offer you a position on my staff otherwise. Perhaps, once I settle on a new direction for my life, I may be in a position to hire you.” Mikael, feeling rather daring, decided to ask a more personal question. “How does Tommy feel about all this?” Rich laughed. “I’ve told him the whole story, if that’s what you’re wondering. I know, cabinet secrecy rules, yadda yadda, but since I’m exiting the whole political scene anyway, what the hell.” “You didn’t exactly answer my question – so like a lawyer!” They both laughed. “He’s not blaming me. Dammit, we’re gay men – throw a good-looking, willing guy in our paths and we all know what’s quite likely going to happen. Anyway, Mikael, when you do apply for a position somewhere, I’ll be happy to give you a first-rate recommendation. Also, to thank you for your help, I’d like to invite you for dinner at my home next week – pool party casual style. I think Wednesday would be good. Just meet me here at five o’clock and we’ll walk up together.” “I’d love to. Thank you. It’ll be a pleasure to meet Tommy personally.” Rich gave him a meaning smile and roguish wink. “He’s looking forward to that pleasure too. Until Wednesday.” Mikael grinned and winked back as he left the office. Rich went through the rest of his agenda for the day, sighing at the end as he realized that his time in this job was now very limited indeed. He, too, wondered what the future would hold for him. He was certainly nowhere near ready to lie down and die of old age. At age 55, with nine years’ service in the Assembly, he was entitled to a limited pension from the Alcantaran State Pension Funds, not that he needed it. He was cooking up a plan for one last private members’ bill that he wished to present to the Assembly, and the state pension would make a splendid yearly contribution to the project. Musing thus, he walked home up the hill, feeling very much at peace with himself. As he strolled along the curve of Suncrest Drive, he waved a cheery hello to Mrs. Ironwood who was watering her front garden. Her reply was a muted “’lo” and what sounded like a sniff of disdain. Had she, he wondered, talked to her nephew? As he approached his home, he saw the car in the driveway and knew that Tommy was home ahead of him. Rich opened the door and walked into the house, whistling cheerfully. Tommy heard him, laughed uproariously, and then joined him in whistling a happy, well-known tune. Ding! Dong! The Witch is Dead! The following morning, at eleven o’clock, Rich stepped up to the podium in the Press Conference Hall of the Assembly building. The representatives of the main national media outlets were all present. The chair of the press gallery introduced him, and he made his statement. Briefly, he explained that he would not be seeking the leadership of the Social Democratic Party, and that he would not be contesting his seat in the Assembly in the impending general election. This, he said, would mark his final retirement from politics. He closed with a graceful expression of thanks to all his colleagues and fellow Assembly members for their service, and a conventional and bland word of praise for the recently-deceased President. He then called for questions. The Alcantara24 reporter; “Minister, what do you plan to do with all your free time?” Rich chuckled appreciatively, as did the rest of the press corps. “What is this thing you speak of, this ‘free time’? I do not recognize these words.” Laughter followed. “All my life, I’ve scarcely ever been at a loss for some useful project to keep me busy. I’m sure this occasion will be no different. However, I do not have a specific new direction laid out yet.” The RadioAlcantara reporter: “It’s been rumored that your husband, Tommy, has been offered a significant promotion at the University. Is your action today to be construed as support for him?” Rich replied, “Throughout our years together, we have always supported each other in many ways. It’s how we roll. As for Tommy’s career path, that question would have to be directed to him. If there’s any change, I’m sure such change will be clearly announced by the University.” The Daily Sun reporter: “Have you given any thought to contesting the election for President which will have to follow not long after the general election for the Assembly?” Richard gave a theatrical shudder, raising another laugh. “As of today, it is my intention to retire from politics. I think that covers your question as well. Any other questions?” After a pause, the press gallery chair then stepped to the microphone again, and said, “I think this concludes our press conference for today. But I would like to take a moment, Minister, on behalf of all of us in the press gallery, to say a heartfelt thank you for your years of service to the people of this country, and to express our sadness that you are now stepping down.” The entire press corps rose in a standing ovation, and then lined up to shake Rich’s hand and wish him well. The weather that weekend was picture perfect: sunny and warm, not too humid, and gentle breezes. Rich and Tommy spent the entire weekend relaxing in all their favourite ways: sunning and swimming at the pool, a day trip to the beach at Bahía de la Paz, where his grandparents’ home had once stood, taking turns cooking up incredible meals for each other, a glass of wine after dinner in the hot tub, and – inevitably – many hours spent in bed, reaffirming their total love and commitment for each other after the stresses of the last few weeks. Wednesday came around, and it was time for their planned dinner with Mikael. Tommy had a short-schedule day at the campus, so he would come home early to prepare the meal. Rich and Mikael walked up the winding road from downtown, and in the front door, to be greeted by… Bruno??? Rich looked his surprise, but quickly recovered. “Hello, Bruno, this is a pleasant surprise. It’s good to see you again. I wasn’t aware that Tommy was inviting anyone. Mikael, of course, you already know.” Tommy emerged from the kitchen, incongruously clad in a long frilly apron over his speedo. “Just putting the final touches on the side dish, and then it’s into the oven and we can head out for a swim.” Rich showed Bruno and Mikael the guest room to change, warning them, “Don’t get stuck in here, now!” That made them both laugh. Rich got changed, too, and a couple of minutes later the four of them were in the pool together, three of them in speedos and Mikael in a tight, vibrantly coloured rainbow thong that had the other three all whistling at him and trying to cop a feel of his beautifully tanned ass. After swimming around for a few minutes, they then climbed out of the pool and into the hot tub, and Tommy brought a pitcher of sangria and glasses. As they toasted each other, Rich asked the question in his mind. “Okay, Tommy, I want to know. Why did you invite Bruno?” “Come on, Rich, you’re not that slow or dense yet.” “You mean Bruno was the one that… that…?” Tommy nodded, with what could only be called a dirty grin on his face. Then Bruno spoke up. “Rich, don’t go pulling that outraged morality thing on us. Remember, you fucked me long before Tommy did.” For a very long moment, Rich and Tommy looked bleakly at each other, not sure how much Bruno might or might not know about the bigger picture. Mikael caught their concern and quickly intervened. “Wow, Bruno, you’ve gotten all of us. I’ve only had you and Rich and tonight’s definitely Tommy’s turn!” The dangerous moment passed. As the light faded, they climbed out of the hot tub, collected their things, and headed inside, getting dried off and dressed before sitting down to eat. Tommy’s dinner of pan-seared scallops, followed by a crown roast of lamb with potato croquettes was really spectacular, and the others all praised the food and the choices of wine. Just as Tommy served the dessert, a fluffy light fruit mousse with an orange liqueur sauce, Mikael suddenly said, “Hey!” Everyone looked at him for a moment. “Don’t everyone turn and look, but I think someone is flying a drone outside the window over there, and smart money says there’s a camera filming us.” Bruno glanced sideways for a moment and agreed. “You’re right. I can see it bobbing up and down a bit and there’s the red light from the phone camera on it.” Rich groaned, and Tommy said, “Dammit, a guy just can’t get any privacy on this island!” Everyone laughed. Bruno then said, “You know, I was a basketball player in school. If I could sneak up on it, I bet I could jump up far enough to grab it out of the air, and then we could find out who’s spying on you. How can I get out there without that thing ‘seeing’ me coming?” Tommy said, “Go out the door at the back of the kitchen, turn right, and go around the edge of the hedge. Just don’t fall in the pool by mistake. And the rest of us will ignore the drone and keep talking.” Bruno departed, and the others resumed their conversation. Mikael asked, “Any idea who might be behind it?” Tommy laughed, and Rich said, “Yes. A very good idea as a matter of fact. I hope that Bruno can….” He was interrupted by a loud cry of triumph from outside: “Got it!!!” The other three raced outside to find Bruno carefully holding the drone, with its rotors still spinning, until he successfully pulled the phone off its mounting. Then he slammed the drone, head down, onto the terrace and the rotors snapped off although the motors kept spinning. “Move that thing over by the wall, and let’s go back in the house,” Rich said. Once they were inside, Rich added, “Just put that phone down and handle it as little as possible. I’m going to call the police.” On the phone, he explained what happened, and the voice at the other end said that an officer was on the way immediately. While they were waiting for the police to arrive, Bruno told them that, just as he grabbed the drone out of the air, he heard a youthful voice saying, “Something’s wrong, grandma, it won’t come back!” “Where did the voice come from?” Tommy and Rich asked in unison. “Somewhere over behind the windscreen on that end,” Bruno indicated with a gesture. Rich and Tommy both smiled and nodded. Suspicions confirmed. When the police arrived, Rich explained what happened. The officer nodded, pulled on gloves, and picked up the phone carefully. Turning it over, he saw the “TelAlcantara” label on the back. “In the morning,” he said, “we’ll take this down to TelAlcantara and get them to unlock it for us so we can trace the owner.” “I’ll give you a hint,” Rich said with a grin, and whispered something in the officer’s ear. The officer chuckled. “That would make sense. We’ll let you know what we find out. Can you also get me the remains of the drone?” Bruno went back out onto the terrace and came back in with the body and the pieces of the rotors. The motors had stopped whining and spinning uselessly while they were inside the house. The officer put the drone body, the phone, and all of the pieces into plastic bags which he took with him as he left. “Well, that was a piece of excitement I wasn’t bargaining on,” Bruno said, laughing. “Nice catch, buddy!” Mikael commented. “Well,” Rich said, “Now that the enemy have made their move and the first assault wave has been beaten back, how about we get on with the real business of the evening? Come on, boys.” And he led the way down the hall to the master bedroom with its super king-size bed – and fully-closed drapes. As he turned around, Bruno came right into his arms and began kissing him, while Mikael predictably went for Tommy. After all, there was a new cock in the room that hadn’t visited his hole yet, and for Mikael this was always a challenge, and a fault to be remedied. Before long, Bruno and Rich had each other undressed, and Bruno was eating fiercely away at Rich’s muscular ass. He’d made up his mind that he owed Rich a good fucking for taking him, a dedicated top who’d never been fucked, and turning him into a fully versatile guy who could take or give, or both at once. Meanwhile, Tommy was savouring the delight of tonguing away at the lovely little hole in the crack between Mikael’s two lush, rounded buns. That hole, so experienced at receiving dick, opened and winked at him almost at once, so eager Mikael was to get a new cock inside him. So it was Tommy who scored first, entering Mikael’s ass while Mikael moaned loudly at him to “fuck me, give me your rock-hard dick.” A few minutes later, Bruno had Rich on all fours as he slowly plowed his way into Rich’s butthole, while Rich leaned over Mikael and frantically kissed him. Tommy was so turned on by the sensation of fucking Mikael, knowing that Rich had been in there before, and it took very little time before he was ready to blow. Mikael was squeezing madly on his cock, demanding Tommy give him his load, and in no time Tommy was pumping his sperm into Mikael’s talented ass. As soon as he pulled out, Mikael moved. As Bruno, still fucking Rich, squatted back on his haunches, Mikael, pulled up Rich’s erect dick and sat down on it, letting Tommy’s hot cum smooth the way. Mikael then rode eagerly up and down on Rich’s dick, while Bruno kept pumping his cock in and out of Rich’s ass. Not to be left out, Tommy knelt by Rich’s head and fed his wet dick into his man’s warm mouth to be sucked clean. But then, Bruno speeded up his fucking motions and let fly with his load inside Rich’s ass. As he pulled out, Mikael moaned and said, “Tommy, get your dick back into me. I want to take you both, DP.” Bruno sat back and watched in awe as Mikael opened up and took Tommy’s tool inside him alongside Rich, not even batting an eye as the two hard cocks opened him up. For both Tommy and Rich it was a first-ever DP experience, and before long they were both ready to cum, Rich for the first time and Tommy for the second. It was Rich who spilled his load inside Mikael first, and the mere feeling of his warm cum flowing over the head of Tommy’s cock was enough to set him off as well, exploding into Mikael’s ass for the second time. Once they both pulled out, they flopped on the bed to catch a breather, but the insatiable Mikael just yelled, “Nooo! I need more cock!” Bruno, who’d been stroking himself all this time while watching the awesome DP unfolding, said, “Okay, Mikael, you asked for it, you’re going to get it.” Bruno was not only the tallest guy in the room, but he had the tallest cock as well, outdoing Rich’s 7-incher (the next biggest) by nearly an inch. He shoved the whole thing in at once. Mikael’s hole was certainly loose enough and wet enough to make this easy. The mere sensation of being so suddenly stretched and filled again triggered Mikael’s orgasm, and he blew his load off all over the two older men, most of it landing across Rich’s back. Bruno started to pull out, but Mikael yelled again, “No! Put it into me. Fuck me, man, fuck me hard and deep. I need it!” Bruno proceeded to pound Mikael every which way, while Tommy and Rich watched in awe at the two young studs and their supercharged sexual energy. The sight was so inspiring that, before Bruno could finish cumming inside Mikael, Rich had again gotten hard, and began pounding Tommy’s ass. Seeing them doing it together turned Bruno on so much that he fired right up, driving into Mikael at express-train speed and dropping his load inside Mikael’s sopping-wet hole. After he pulled out, Tommy told Mikael to turn around and sit on his face, and he proceeded to suck all the cum out of Mikael’s ass while Rich kept fucking him. Once Rich came in Tommy, they all pulled apart and took a breather for a few minutes. Eventually, Rich got up and went for another bottle of wine and the glasses, and they all had a drink and talked for a while before the cocks began to refill again for another round. This time they formed themselves into a fuck chain, with Mikael taking Tommy again, Bruno inside Tommy, and Rich fucking Bruno. It proved a bit awkward, trying to figure out who was supposed to move when. After a few minutes, Rich pulled out, and lay down in front of Mikael, demanding that Mikael suck his cock. While Mikael was doing a first-rate number on Rich’s tool, Tommy in the middle of the chain was moving back and forth steadily, impaling himself on Bruno as he pulled slowly out of Mikael, and then plunging back into Mikael as he pulled off Bruno’s big cock. This time it was Bruno who cried out that he was going to cum first. Within seconds, Tommy was also erupting inside Mikael, and then Mikael blew into Rich’s virtuoso mouth. That left Rich, and he grabbed his dick and began beating it, but Bruno said, “Not a chance!” and sat on Rich’s cock, riding him until he drew another load up and out. At last, Bruno pulled away and everyone flopped down in exhaustion. “I’m done,” Rich gasped, and Tommy felt about the same. Trying to keep up with these youngsters was hard work – in more ways than one. Tommy roused himself, and said, “Come on, boys, let’s get you back to the guest room. We old-timers need our sleep.” After Bruno and Mikael were settled in, he came back, poured the rest of the wine, and shared a nightcap with Rich before they went out like a pair of lights. Rich woke up rather late the next morning, with a first-rate example of the dreaded super hangover – the too-much-to-drink meets not-enough-sleep plus too-much-sex variety. He hadn’t had a hangover like that since his first year in college, way back in 1985. It cost him a lot of effort and several sharp jolts of pain when he screwed up his brows to remember that date. He texted Lucy to let her know he’d be late getting in. Lucy promptly replied, “No you will not! Benita is coming to see you in your office at ten o’clock and you WILL be there.” Rich texted back a gif of a dog saluting. As he sent that message, Tommy joined him, also looking very much the worse for wear. “Goo morn, Rish. Wha happen?” “I remember fucking three guys, cumming three times, and opening a third bottle of wine to celebrate. After that, just a blur. How about you?” “I hurt up here,” and he gestured to his head, “and down here,” and he waved at his crotch, “and especially it hurts back here,” as he rubbed his ass. “You’re lucky. You get a day off. I get a text from Lucy, telling me to haul ass into the office by ten.” “Oh, God – just the thought. Extra-strong coffee for you this morning?” “Please. And thank you,” and he kissed Tommy. Tommy pushed him away. “Ewww! Your morning breath is bad enough most days but this morning… Yuck!!!” Rich chuckled, and immediately groaned, putting his hand to his head again. “I’ll go clean up.” As he walked away, Tommy said, “Scrub extra hard in the shower. There’s dried cum caked all over your ass.” Forty minutes later, clean, dressed, and presentable, Rich sat down to a huge mug of Tommy’s extra-strength coffee, presented thoughtfully on a tray with a sizable glass of water and an egg cup containing two headache pills. Rich downed the pills, then the water, and then took a giant slurp of coffee as a chaser. An hour later, once Rich had managed to eat a slice of toast and a bit of ham and cheese, and was feeling almost as good as he looked, he said, “Tommy, let’s make a deal. Any future three-ways, four-ways, or more-ways in this house will be held only on weekends.” “Deal.” Just then, Rich’s phone rang. He screwed up his eyes and rubbed his aching temples, then answered. “Mr. Dunnatore? This is Inspector Bush at the Alcantara Police Headquarters. We have a report on that phone and drone captured at your home last night.” “Yes?” “Officer Roberts told me your suspicion as to the identity of the perpetrator. The phone is registered to that person. We went on a little social call this morning, and as soon as I displayed the phone and the remains of the drone she visibly paled in the face, while her grandson said, “Hey! That’s my drone! It’s wrecked!” We told her that any future action in this incident would depend on the persons who had captured the drone and turned it into the police, but that if any more complaints were received and traced to their household then we would be laying criminal charges for invasion of privacy. I think you’ll have no further problems in that direction.” “You know that you’re not really supposed to be sharing all this information with me.” “Sir, that rule only applies if the call is logged.” “But surely all your… Oh….” Rich’s voice trailed off down a short scale as a knowing smile creased his face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t really catch that last remark you made. I trust it wasn’t important.” “Not important at all, sir. Have a nice day.” Rich chuckled heartily as he hung up. Then he checked his watch and realized he had to move. As he got up to go, Tommy said, “Aren’t you going to tell me what happened?” Rich said, “We guessed right about the owner of the drone. I’ll have to tell you the rest later. It’s good enough to be worth waiting for, trust me! Oh, and make sure you get those boys out of the guest room before you leave for work.” “I already tried, while you were in the shower. Bruno was fucking Mikael again. Oh, to be young!” After picking his way slowly and carefully down the twisting hill, squinting painfully at every turn to the east where the sun got into his eyes, Rich walked into his suite of offices with five minutes to spare and was greeted by a stern-faced Lucy with a stopwatch ticking in her hand. “You cut it pretty fine, Minister.” He nodded without saying anything, walked into his office, and had just time to grab a glass of water and down one more pain pill before Miriam opened the door. “The Premier, Minister.” He stood up to greet Benita again, and then sat down after her, a little more slowly than usual. “Big night last night, Rich?” “You could say so.” “Just the usual cast of characters or were there any extras?” she asked in an arch tone of voice. “I refuse to answer that question until I’ve consulted my lawyer.” She laughed heartily, and then said, “Shall we get down to business?” She opened her briefcase and drew out a sheaf of legal-sized paper in a paper clip. Rich automatically became alert. Long sheets of paper meant legal issues, his specialty. She opened the document and began to read. “Portavedra, Alcantara, 23 June 2019. “We, the undersigned citizens of Alcantara, do hereby petition the Premier of Alcantara as follows: “That you immediately present a priority motion in the Legislative Assembly to appoint to the office of President of Alcantara, pro tempore, the Honourable Richard Dunnatore, Minister of Justice, Deputy Premier, and Member of the Assembly for Greenhills.” On the second page, there followed two lists of signatures, one headed “Members of the Legislative Assembly” and the other “And these Alcantaran Citizens.” The first list contained exactly twenty-nine signatures, neatly arranged in two columns of fourteen, with the final name centred below them. The second added just two more names: “Jonathan Ironwood” and “Madelaine Flowers.” Benita handed the document to Rich, and he studied it, dazed. His first remark was, “Two signatures are missing from the list of Assembly members.” Benita said gently, “Mine and yours, Rich. They brought it to me yesterday afternoon, as you see it.” “Are they serious?” “Yes, Rich, they are. The delegation which brought it consisted of the six opposition members, and Jonathan Ironwood. They had canvassed all the others. Madelaine Flowers got wind of it somehow, and called Ironwood, begging him to let her add her name.” Rich just shook his head, stunned speechless – an extremely rare condition for him. “Rich, I’ll tell you exactly what Jonathan Ironwood said. ‘There’s no more knowledgeable living expert on the constitution, laws, and traditions of the Alcantaran government, and no man I know of higher integrity.’” Rich was beginning to feel slightly dizzy. Benita added, “I was hoping it wouldn’t be out of place for me to ask it of you as a favour, but I hesitated because I knew how relieved you were to be retiring. But when I saw that the entire Assembly had willingly put this forward, I felt that I had to ask you – speaking now, in effect, for the entire government and, by extension, the people of Alcantara.” Rich was still thinking. Benita was content to let him take his time. A clock quietly ticked the next two minutes away. And at last, Rich spoke. “Benita, in theory, I could do this, but of course I have to…” “…ask Tommy. I know, Rich. That’s one of the things I admire most about you, the way that you never take any big personal decisions without consulting your husband. And I know he does the same with you. It’s no wonder so many people see you two as a model couple, regardless of your orientation.” Rich chuckled for a moment, thinking of last night’s orgy, but said nothing more to that. He simply asked, “When do you need an answer?” “Tomorrow, if you can. Time is of the essence here.” “Of course. That won’t be a problem. Can I take this?” “I’ve already sent a copy to your confidential email. It should be there by now.” “But there is one definite condition, Benita. If Tommy agrees, and I accept, I refuse – absolutely refuse – to live in Hillward Hall. I like my own home far better. And we definitely have space enough for any official entertaining that may be required.” “You certainly do, and that feeling is entirely understandable.” “Personally, Benita, I think that Madelaine Flowers should be allowed to remain in Hillward Hall, if she wishes to do so. I don’t know how much more time she may have to live, but whatever that time, the country owes her that much.” “I couldn’t agree more. I will inform her as soon as she can see me.” “I have one more idea, Benita, and it has to do with the future of Hillward Hall later on, but let’s figure out how this step is going to play out first, and then I’ll share it with you.” After Benita had gone, Rich sat there, still in something of a daze. His overwhelming emotion was gratitude for the expressed trust of the country’s legislators, and even of Ironwood and Flowers. Those two were the biggest surprise of the entire document. It occurred to Rich that Madelaine Flowers was considerably more insightful and astute than her late husband had been, for all his reputed political savvy and ingenuity. At home that night, Rich waited until dinner was finished, then he opened his laptop and called Tommy to come over and sit by him. “Benita came to my office this morning and shared a startling document with me. I’m going to show it to you now. Read the whole thing.” As he passed the laptop to Tommy, he noticed that Benita had added to the end a brief description of her meeting with the petitioners, including Jonathan Ironwood’s remarks. Tommy read over the petition and whistled in surprise. “What do you want to do, Rich?” “I told her that I could perhaps do it, but that it would be your decision. Tommy, you have so often deferred to what I wanted to do, what mattered to me, and I now realize that one of the biggest weaknesses of my entire life is how I have too frequently gotten whatever I want. This decision is going to be yours to make. This time, you will choose.” “Am I right in thinking that this is largely a ceremonial position?” Tommy asked. “Yes.” “And non-partisan?” “Yes.” “Will we have to do any official entertaining?” “Some.” “How long will this last?” “There isn’t a firm timeline, but about eighteen months would be my guess.” “And will we have to move into that ancient pile, Hillward Hall?” “I already told Benita that was absolutely not in the cards.” “Okay, Rich, you’re doing it. Flowers was trying to warp the position into something it was never meant to be. You’re perfectly placed to pull it back to its intended status as a ceremonial but non-executive head of state.” “On behalf of the government and people of Alcantara, I thank you.” “Hang on a minute, Rich, don’t you go all formal with me. They haven’t appointed you yet!” The following day, the Friday morning session of the Assembly was cut short so that Benita could share the petition and the unanimous vote of the Assembly in announcing the name of the new President pro tempore at an 11:00 AM press conference. She then invited Rich to step forward, and he was greeted by a fusillade of camera flashes, followed by hearty applause from the press gallery. At the same time, Rich’s office issued a statement affirming that he had now resigned his position as a Minister and as a member of the Assembly, effective immediately. A by-election for Greenhills would most likely not be held as the general election was expected to follow within half a year or less. An hour later, a statement was issued by the University of Alcantara: “The President and Board of Trustees of the University of Alcantara are pleased to announce that Professor Tomoyoshi Takahashi, Head of the Department of History and Social Sciences, has been promoted to the position of Dean of Arts and Sciences.” The local media, and many international sources (especially gay-themed magazines and websites) quickly filled up with excited stories about “Alcantara’s Number One Power Couple” – rather ironic, considering how powerless the President’s position actually was. It was a well-known gay news website in Canada which pointed out proudly that both men were actually Canadian by birth, although both now held dual Canadian-Alcantaran citizenship. Rich returned to his office, to be greeted by congratulations from all his staff. He then invited Lucy and Miriam into his private office so he could personally thank them for their years of help throughout his legislative and cabinet career. Lucy had already told him that she was looking for something a bit less high-pressure, as she was on the verge of becoming a grandmother and would welcome more family time. Miriam now told Rich her exciting news, which was that she was pregnant and was leaving to prepare for life as a full-time parent. He knew, and told them, that he would miss both of them as valued colleagues and friends. That afternoon, he fielded a number of calls from various influential Alcantarans wishing to congratulate and thank him. One or two of the callers also thought to ask him to pass on their congratulations to Tommy. Among the callers were several who wanted to angle for favours. His reply to them, courteous but firm, was that the Presidency was ceremonial and non-partisan only, and they that must pursue their requests through the official government channels. He supposed that these were people who’d previously enjoyed an inside track by appealing directly to Desmond Flowers. Finally, at about four o’clock, there came a break in the parade of calls. Rich picked up his private cellphone and called Mikael. “Rich! Wow! I saw you with Benita on the news. I think it’s wonderful, you are absolutely the person to fix up the whole mess that Flowers caused. And to think, less than 48 hours ago I got fucked by the President-in-waiting, not to mention the new Dean of Arts and Sciences, and none of us knew it!” Rich laughed. “Mikael, trust you to go there. But here’s why I’m calling. I wanted to invite you to continue in your position as Executive Assistant to the President.” “Really? But what about Lucy?” Rich explained her situation, and assured Mikael that his connections, knowledge, and experience would make him invaluable in helping Rich to sort out the genuine issues from the dirty, undercover tricks that he needed to weed out. Mikael accepted, immediately and eagerly. Then Rich explained that he and Tommy would not be moving into Hillward Hall, and that Mikael should bring all his work together into the official Presidential Office suite in the Assembly building. And he closed with, “Thank you for agreeing to help me with this, Mikael. I’ll see you there on Monday morning, that’s my official start date.” Item Number One on his Monday agenda was now entered in his calendar on his phone: “Paperwork to formally appoint Mikael.” Making his way home at 5:00 PM that Friday afternoon, Rich was trying to think his thoughts but he kept getting distracted. Pedestrians stepped up to greet him, drivers honked, random voices called out, “Congratulations, Mr. President.” All this sudden recognition and acclamation was a bit overwhelming. Rich hoped it wouldn’t go to his head. Then he stepped into the house, to be greeted by Tommy with, “I just got home a minute ago and didn’t have a free moment all day. Did you remember to pick up the things I asked you for at the store?” No, he didn’t remember. Tommy snorted indignantly, “This is not getting off to a good start! The new President can’t even remember a perfectly simple request from the First Lady!” “And what would the Dean say to that?” Rich batted back. They both laughed. “Aquarius for dinner?” Tommy asked. “If we can get in without a reservation. It’s Friday, remember?” Rich replied gloomily. “Are you kidding, Rich? They’ll probably cancel the next six reservations to give us lots of space!” They laughed again. As it turned out, there was plenty of room at Aquarius and they got their usual favourite table. After dinner, the manager swung by to congratulate Rich. Tommy took the opportunity to ask him if they would consider catering for any future official occasions where food and drink were required. The manager grew flushed with excitement at the request and assured him that it could be arranged. After he left, Rich said, “First Lady on the job!” Tommy pulled a face. Rich patted his hand, then stroked his face. “Okay, First Gentleman. Actually, though, you’re not the First Gentleman. For this President, you are the Only Gentleman.” They leaned together and shared a kiss, and the entire restaurant erupted in applause and cheers.

It feels like I've been waiting for this moment for halfway to forever, and you didn't disappoint, @losolent. Max handled it to perfection, and it looks like his reward might even be the title of Prince Max! Adding in the growing love between Mateo and Hannes really put the icing on the cake.

@ChaserKubby That would be a whole other story to itself. I could do it, too. Hmm.... Thanks for the suggestion, I think I just might run with that one!

Chapter 8 Revelation and Recuperation As soon as he woke up on Thursday morning, Rich knew that it was crunch time. He was going to have to decide -- and decide fast. What was he going to say to Flowers? What was he going to tell Tommy? What was he going to do about the party leadership? And most important of all, who did he really intend to become going forward? That last one was actually the Big Number One which he had been trying to confront ever since he had started working on his memoir – was it really just four days ago? It felt more like half a lifetime – because, of course, that was exactly what he had been recalling and setting down. The real crunch, though, was that he had promised Tommy an answer today, so that Tommy could in turn make his decision about the Dean of Arts and Sciences position at the University. Rich owed him that. He knew that he actually owed Tommy so much more, but that was the time-critical element that mattered right now. What had finally become clear to Rich was that he was going down exactly the same path as Carlo had done all those years ago: sliding deeper and deeper into dishonesty and self-deceit, while concealing his actions from the man he claimed to love. And it didn’t have to be this way; he, Rich, could make a different choice, a tougher yet more truthful choice than Carlo had made. He didn’t have to become another Carlo. Thinking along these lines, Rich got up, headed into the kitchen, and got the coffee brewing. Just as it was ready to pour, Tommy walked in, rubbing his eyes. Rich poured him a coffee, poured one for himself, and said, “Come here and sit down. I have something really important to tell you and I need to do it now.” Tommy held up his hand. “Before you start, Rich, you’d better take a look at the news on your phone. All bets are off about your agenda for today.” Rich picked up his phone, opened the Alcantara24 news app, and saw only a black screen. Across it slowly scrolled the words: THE RIGHT HONOURABLE DESMOND FLOWERS, PRESIDENT OF ALCANTARA, HAS DIED OF NATURAL CAUSES AT HIS HOME AT THE AGE OF 67. FUNERAL DETAILS ARE TO BE ANNOUNCED LATER TODAY. For a moment, the news screen completely derailed Rich’s train of thought. But he quickly recovered and began mentally editing on the fly what he had planned to say to Tommy. “Wow, that’s the end of an era, in no uncertain terms. We’ll have to expect a whole raft of calls and messages related to this over the next two or three days.” “Indeed. You’d better get some serious breakfast inside you, it could be a hectic day. How are you feeling this morning, Rich? You really scared me last night, I’ve never seen you in such a state before.” “Tommy, I was in a state because I couldn’t make up my mind what to do. But it finally all came clear to me this morning when I woke up. Now, I hope you’re still thinking of accepting the offer from the University because I’d really like to try my hand at being the Dean’s wife.” Tommy chuckled at that. But he quickly turned serious again. “But… what about your future?” “Tommy, I’ve made my decision. I’m retiring from politics. I’m not running for Benita’s job and I’m not standing for re-election either.” Now Tommy looked positively shocked. “Rich, are you running a fever or something? That’s the last thing I expected to hear you say.” “That’s what writing my memoir has brought me to – the realization that I can’t go on as I have been. Politics is rapidly turning me into somebody I don’t like at all. It’s time to call a halt, to say that I don’t want to be that person and I will not let myself become that person.” “If that’s truly how you feel, Rich, then it’s your best choice. But what will you do now?” “I haven’t had time to think that far ahead. One choice at a time. Just this one decision has lifted an enormous weight off my shoulders. But I still have some more weights to go.” Tommy studied him for a minute. He was a shrewd man, and he could guess that the death of Flowers had something to do with Rich’s newly buoyant mood this morning – although he couldn’t really imagine why that should be the case. “Look, Rich, let’s get in our usual morning swim, and then we can get some breakfast into us and get ready for a busy day.” In her bedroom on the second floor of Hillward Hall, the official presidential mansion, Madelaine Flowers was lying in bed. She was feeling slightly more energetic right now than on many mornings these days. Before long, she would get up for a bit of a walk around, but not until her day nurse came to help her. Desmond’s executive assistant, Mikael, had come to her earlier to give her the news. It didn’t affect her that much at all. Any emotional tie between her and her husband had disappeared long ago, and they hadn’t slept in the same bed for over two decades. When the doctor came to see her and told her that Desmond had died of a heart attack, she immediately jumped to the conclusion that he must have been fucking one of his young side pieces. Madelaine Flowers, née Brazeau, was no fool; she’d seen the parade of good-looking young men coming on board in the Presidential staff and coming over to the mansion for evening additional work -- and she could figure out for herself exactly what was going on. One thing, though, she was absolutely determined to do. She would not let anyone spread any malicious stories about Desmond as long as she was alive. She’d stopped loving him years ago, but he was the man that her younger self had loved and she had still respected him as a national leader. If she had to throw a big show and cry heartbrokenly into her handkerchief to stop any public stories going around about his private behaviour, so be it. At the main entrance of the mansion, Mikael greeted the funeral director and his assistants and led them upstairs to the late President’s bedroom. He then went down the hall to see Madelaine Flowers, asking if she needed anything or if she would like to see the body. She declined graciously, with a shake of the head and thanks. Her day nurse arrived to sit with her, and Mikael left. He went back downstairs to the door and stood at attention there, respectfully watching as the funeral director and his staff walked slowly down the steps and loaded the casket into the hearse. After they drove down the driveway and out onto Hillward Street, he went into the President’s home office, a cozy, oak-panelled study with gilded wall sconces and tall windows, framed by deep green velvet drapes, facing the gardens along the south side of the house. It didn’t take long. He’d made a shrewd guess about where Desmond Flowers was keeping his private files, and he soon found that he had guessed correctly. Mikael then proceeded to the official Presidential offices in the Assembly building, and made the first phone call of the day, to Benita Caladesa. She had already been briefed by her executive assistant, and the conversation didn’t take long. It would be a state funeral, tentatively scheduled for Tuesday, and that would be a national day of mourning. The exact date and time would be confirmed within hours and then she would make the public announcement. Mikael next called Rich, but the call went to voice mail. This might have had something to do with the fact that Tommy and Rich were frolicking around in the pool, apparently without a care in the world, and making enough noise to cause Mrs. Ironwood to shake her head, lips pursed in disapproval at the antics of “those faggots,” as she always thought of them. Before they sat down to breakfast, Rich gave his phone a quick check and saw the message from Mikael. “Sorry, Tommy, work issues.” As he disappeared into his study to return the call, Tommy yelled after him, “I’m going to be hearing that a lot for the next few days.” Rich grinned to himself. Tommy was absolutely right but he had no idea what he was going to hear from Rich even sooner. Rich hit the callback button, and Mikael answered right away. “Rich.” “Well?” “I found them. The whole works. It might not be the only copy, but we’ve got enough for you to blow the lid off the whole mess if you have to. That silly idiot, Flowers, even filmed a couple of his own private moments with Bruno and – what was his name, Travis? You know, the big guy with flaming red hair, built like a linebacker. Hard for me to believe, but those two guys looked like they were actually enjoying doing it with him.” Rich chuckled. “Did you have trouble cracking his password?” Mikael laughed outright. “Not a bit. It was his and Madelaine’s wedding anniversary – my first guess, and it worked like a charm. The irony. I’ve got all the videos saved onto an external hard drive. I’ll get another one and make you a copy.” “Thanks, Mikael. You’ve taken such a load off my mind.” “I’ll bet I did. Talk to you later.” Rich went back to have breakfast, and even managed to enjoy the whole meal with Tommy, the two of them regularly stroking each other’s hands across the corner of the table between mouthfuls of cinnamon-raisin brioche and fresh-cut tropical fruit salad. And then, just as they finished, Rich’s phone rang again. Rich picked up right away. “Good morning, Benita.” Tommy groaned in mock dismay. “Oh, God. Why did you have to go into politics, anyway?” “You’re a bit late for that, Tommy,” Rich replied, laughing, as he disappeared into the study again. The Premier wanted to have a quick word with him about the funeral arrangements, so he could pass the word down to the regimental headquarters, putting the Alcantaran Guards on notice to prepare for gun carriage drill. But then, Rich said, “Benita, I have something important to tell you. I’ve decided that I’m also going to retire from politics and step down before the election.” She sighed. “Oh, Rich… I was hoping you’d pick up and carry on for me.” Her voice sounded sad. “I know, Benita. Trust me, I feel bad for letting you down like this. It’s just… I feel all used up inside, and it would be really bad news to go ahead and do it anyway when my heart is screaming at me to get out while I still can.” She sighed again and when she spoke, it was in a wistful tone of voice. “It’s a pity. It would have been so great to have you become the first openly LGBTQ head of government elected in the Americas. I understand, though. When are you going to announce it?” “It will keep until a few days after the funeral, say, a week from tomorrow. That will still give ample time for other hopefuls to throw their hats into the ring before the closing date for nominations for the leadership – and for the Greenhills party committee to nominate a new candidate.” Rich walked back out into the big free-flowing space that included living room, dining room, and kitchen all in one. He had Tommy pour some more coffee, and then got him to come and sit down. As Tommy brought the coffee over, Rich turned his phone right off so he wouldn’t be distracted if he heard it buzzing. Tommy sat down. Rich took a deep breath and began. Looking back at the moment later, he was surprised at how easy it was for him to get through the whole mea culpa, to tell Tommy all about the dozens of guys he’d been screwing in his office, about the interview process, about the secret HIV tests and prescriptions for PreP, about how much he’d come to hate the whole business, and to hate himself. Tommy just sat and listened with no change of expression. He might normally be full of joyful good humour, but he had a full measure of his ancestors’ ability to be stoic and enigmatic at need. When Rich finally finished laying bare all of his multitude of sins, Tommy asked one question – one single word. “Why?” “I was forced to do it. I was being blackmailed.” That word cracked Tommy’s assumed calm, causing his eyebrows to merge momentarily with his carefully-styled hair. But Rich had one more big surprise for him. “By Desmond Flowers.” By this time, Tommy’s eyes had widened to the dimensions of dinner plates – but he still said nothing. Rich waited – but at last, the silence got to be too much for him. “Tommy… please… say something. Anything.” The answer Rich got was the last thing he expected. “Well, Rich, you had a better reason than I did.” “Say what???” Rich’s shock caused his normal firm bass voice to come out in a high-pitched cartoon squeal. “Oh, Rich, you dear, wonderful, kind-hearted, morally upright, stupid man. Did you really think you were the only one in this marriage playing around on the side? Let’s just say that I wasn’t offered the position of Dean of Arts and Sciences purely on the strength of my academic qualifications.” Rich’s jaw was hanging somewhere between his pecs and his navel. “Rich, we need to be realistic. We love each other so much, and neither of us would ever want to spend our lives with anyone else, but damn it, we’re both gay, we’re both still young – well, young-ish in your case,” and Rich glared at him in mock anger, “and when you get right down to it, we’re as horny as a pair of buck rabbits in mating season. We might as well be honest about that reality. And for starters, I’d like to meet your friend, Mikael. I saw him in a photo on the news page the other day and he looks damned hot.” Rich finally took it in, and he began to laugh. Once Tommy started too, they had a hard time stopping. But finally he calmed down enough to respond. “Mikael? Oh, yeah, he’s a hottie all right. Pure bottom boy, but if that’s what turns your crank…” “You want to see what turns my crank?” “I’d love to – but not now. I’m not retired yet, and duty calls.” “Okay, Rich, you go right ahead and run away – as usual. But I’m still going to be waiting for you when you get home, and there’ll be no dinner for you tonight until I get what I want first.” “Deal.” And, giving Tommy a big, sloppy, wet, smacking kiss, he headed out, with both of them still laughing. At the office, Rich’s first task was to call in Lucy and Miriam, so he could inform them of his decision to retire from politics. “But this is strictly confidential for now. I’d like to make the formal announcement on Friday of next week. Miriam, can you check the calendar and clear any commitments I have that morning? Unless I hear any rumbles to the contrary from the media, I’ll hold the press conference at 11:00 AM.” Both of them nodded. All three knew that this was the time of day that fitted in best with the broadcast, print, and internet media schedules for all the national outlets. “And when is your actual stop date?” Lucy asked. “To be determined, but as soon as the new Premier is chosen.” He then sat down to work through the day’s paperwork, putting aside any letters requesting future appointments, public appearances, and the like. He would have Miriam prepare apology letters in reply to those, to go out at the same time that he was holding the press conference next week. Next, he answered an urgent message from Benita. Rather than write an email, he called. Her question was an important one, since it bridged the written constitution and previous court precedents. Rich confirmed for her that the Assembly needed to vote in an Interim President to replace Flowers. There had to be a person holding the office of President to accept the new Premier’s resignation, and officially announce the election date for the Assembly. After the election, the President was equally necessary to invite the leader of the winning party to form a government as Premier. The newly-elected Assembly could then set a date for a required Presidential election, ideally about a year later. “And a bit of advice, Benita, based on precedent in at least one other country using this interim-President stopgap: make sure that the Assembly vote is a free vote, and done by secret ballot. It makes sense, as the President’s function is strictly non-partisan even though the individual occupant of the office may not be.” Rich went through the remaining business of the day, mostly phone calls, with a strange feeling of duality. As he signed official letters of appointment to several newly-chosen government prosecutors, as he wrote some review notes on a draft appeal court speech from a staff lawyer making his first appearance in the appeal courts, he was feeling rather like an imposter – as if he had no right to do this, now that he had set his retirement. But of course, he still had the right, and the duty. He was, after all, obligated to keep working right up until his official resignation took effect. At the end of the day, he made his way home and, as predicted, Tommy was right there, waiting for him – and ready for the pool. “Hurry it along, Rich, I’ve made a new improvement outside and I want you to be the first to see it.” Rich hustled into the walk-in closet, doffed his suit and tie, pulled on his favourite red speedo, and headed towards the glass doors with Tommy. He stepped outside and stopped short. The northeast side of the pool terrace was closed in by a new 3-metre tall windscreen of solid fibreglass, painted in a dappled green pattern to resemble the lush tropical vegetation. A windscreen, yes -- but also a guard against the incessant prying eyes of a certain nosy neighbour with a deep-rooted disdain for “faggots.” Rich looked for about 3 seconds, figured it out, then burst out laughing. The other end of the terrace gave privacy too, thanks to a tall hedge planted by the neighbour on that side. Tommy chuckled, rather smugly. “There! Now we can skinny-dip to our heart’s content, just not in full daylight. Everyone down in town can still see us through the infinity window in the pool.” “Come here, Mr. Clever!” Rich began kissing Tommy, plunging his tongue into his man’s mouth, all the while stroking and squeezing his ass through his suit. Then he swept Tommy up in his arms, took three big strides to the edge of the pool and leaped in. They came up after a couple of seconds, and locked mouths together again. “Now, tell me, Tommy: is this what you wanted?” “Well… I guess it will do. For starters.” After about twenty minutes of horsing around, splashing and ducking each other, spouting water at each other out of their mouths, and generally wrestling in the pool, Rich called time and climbed out, with Tommy right behind him. Tommy whistled. “Wow, that suit is all stretched out of shape in the front. Better try to do something about that.” “Yours is looking pretty lumpy too. They’re supposed to be a snugger fit. I’ll have to see if I can iron that swelling out of it.” Inside, Rich headed directly for the bedroom, but Tommy stopped him. “No, Mister Big Shot, you are not going to drop a wet speedo on that beautiful carpet in the bedroom. Bathroom first.” Rich patted Tommy’s prominent bulge. “Bathroom as in hang our suits up, or bathroom as in get in the shower to really clean these tools off thoroughly.” Tommy laughed. Moments later, they were in the shower together, kissing passionately while their rigid cocks duelled together between their abs. Tommy got his hand around Rich’s muscular ass and into his crack, pushing his finger into Rich’s hole. “That’s it! I win first place! Turn to the wall and bend over.” Rich made a show of grumbling, but he complied quickly all the same. Tommy dropped to his knees and pushed his face into Rich’s ass crack, giving a real virtuoso demonstration of how to make beautiful music on a man’s ass. Fingers, tongue, lips, all worked at driving Rich into a frenzy until he couldn’t take any more and was begging Tommy to fuck him. “By rights, I should either fuck you and cum in you once for each guy you fucked in the office or spank you ten times for each one.” “Fair’s fair, Tommy – you have to subtract the number of times you fucked someone on the side without telling me.” “So that adds up to – oh, hell, I didn’t come here to do math. I’m here for this.” So saying, he pushed his painfully erect cock deep inside Rich’s welcoming ass, burying it all the way until he could feel those firm, rounded, muscular cheeks pushing against his hip bones. “How about, one stroke from your cock for each time?” “How about, I couldn’t last that long.” “Okay. So who says you only have to cum in me once?” At once, Tommy began pounding Rich’s hole, hard and fast. In barely a minute, he began whimpering that he was going to cum. “Yes! Cum inside me! Pound that hole, Tommy!” Tommy groaned and slammed all the way in as his dick convulsed, flexing madly at each spurt of his big load. As soon as he’d finished cumming, he began pumping again. He was incredibly turned on from picturing Rich fucking all those young guys in his office, not to mention all the encounters he himself had enjoyed with the University President’s executive assistant, a real hot versatile stud. In no time, he could feel another orgasm beginning to climb its way up and out. “Oh, fuck, I’m going to cum again.” “Yeah, do it, Tommy, keep fucking me and breed me again. I want it all, your whole load, all the way inside my ass. Cum for me!” In another minute, Tommy yelled aloud and jammed his cock as far inside Rich as he could, firing bolts of cum until he was shooting blanks – and still his cock kept contracting and flexing inside his husband’s hole. At last, the tension broke and he collapsed against Rich’s back, desperately gasping for air while his cock slowly softened and then popped out. Tommy lifted his head to look, seeing a whole river of cum gushing out of Rich’s ass and flowing down his leg. He said, accusingly, “Someone fucked you at the office today. There’s no way that all came from me.” “No, Tommy, it’s all yours – solemn word of honour. Holy shit, I can still feel it pouring out of me.” “What can I say? Sometimes it’s fun to play with other guys, but nobody turns me on as much as the man I love.” “Second the motion. After dinner, I’ll show you that I feel the same way about you.” Eventually they calmed down, dried off, and went to look at what was available in the kitchen. It didn’t look too promising, consisting mainly of leftovers. “Fuck cooking tonight,” Tommy said. “Let’s just head down to Aquarius.” Before long, they were seated at their favourite waterside table, a bottle of wine in front of them and a shrimp ceviche appetizer for two on the way. Every time either one of them said something, the other began giggling. The staff at Aquarius all wondered what was making their two favourite customers so jovial, never having seen them in such a hilarious mood before. They kept laughing all the way through the shrimp, and the beautifully seared rare tenderloin steaks which followed, with a side of gorgonzola sauce and duchesse potatoes. After they’d eaten, they headed back home and got into bed, cuddling and fondling each other until Rich’s cock became erect. Then it was time for him to return the favour to Tommy, but he suddenly realized that there was something else he wanted to do even more. “Skinny dip!” Rich yelled, jumping out of bed and racing into the living room, then dashing outside and leaping into the pool, with Tommy hot on his heels, the two of them bounding into the water like a pair of teenagers.

Chapter 7 Capital Confidential Rich sat in the dark, remembering the boiling wave of resentment and impotent fury that had overwhelmed him as he walked out of the President’s office that day, nine years ago. He’d flung a dagger look from the eyes at Mikael as he stormed by and caught a quick glimpse of Mikael cringing as he shot out the door. Even now, he could remember all too clearly the moment as he’d walked out of the building when he realized that the real trap he had been caught in – and which still held him securely to this day – was entirely of his own making. He wasn’t trapped by the President’s machinations, but by his own love of political power. Only a few days since he’d been elected, but the lust for power already held him securely in its claws. All these years later, that hold was as tenacious as ever. And of course, he’d gone along with the President’s sickening plan. Now, the lure of the party leadership and the Premier’s office, both effectively his for the taking if he wanted them, was a siren song, luring him even further into his self-made prison. He might just as well hold a press conference and announce publicly, “I’ve just taken the last of my honesty and integrity and flung it away with both hands.” Rich had never been so trapped in his endless cycle of self-loathing since the night he’d driven Carlo away. He looked at his hands -- and realized that they were shaking and he couldn’t control them. He desperately needed to break free from his mental treadmill. He stood up and went into the bedroom. Tommy was lying there, reading before going to sleep. He took one look at Rich’s face and leaped up. “My God, Rich, what on earth is wrong with you? You look like you just faced Death itself.” “Help me. Help me, Tommy. I can’t do it. I can’t do it any longer. I can’t.” “Come here, Rich.” He folded Rich in his arms and stood there, hugging him tightly while his whole body shook and trembled. “Rich, I’m right here, with you and for you, forever. But I can’t help you because I have no idea of what’s eating you. And it’s a work issue so you can’t tell me. Come here, lie down and cover up. You’re going to make yourself sick. I’ll go warm up a glass of milk, that should help you relax and sleep.” After Rich had drunk the warm milk – and it did help – Tommy got into bed with him and wrapped his arms securely around him. Rich was clinging to Tommy like a drowning man, but eventually the strength of his hold grew less frantic as he drifted into sleep. Tommy continued to hold him close, and they fell asleep together. In the morning, Rich at least looked better rested, but he still had those dark shadows under his eyes. Tommy knew that his husband was at the point of crashing into a wall from stress, and all he could do for Rich was to be there, ready to pick him up and help him recover once it all came out in the wash. A swim and breakfast helped as always, and so did Rich’s decision to take another day off work. He spent half an hour on the phone with Lucy, going over a few critical issues, and then had her cancel a scheduled meeting with the Court Administrator. He needed to finish the homestretch of this memoir, hoping desperately that he would then understand what to do about his dilemma. After Tommy had left for the University, he sat down once again at his laptop. ******************** During the days after that hideous meeting with Flowers, I had a couple of phone conversations with Mikael to work out the details of how we were going to run this scheme and what code phrases we’d use to disguise it from our respective staffs and associates. He was just as upset as I was about it, but it simply wasn’t safe for us to talk about our personal feelings. I was willing to bet that Flowers had illegally tapped into our phone lines. By this time, I really did feel sorry for Mikael, even though he had gotten me trapped in this mess. He had a far worse time of it that I did, having to try to proposition every single applicant, no matter how unappealing they might be to him personally. He was really trapped between a rock and a hard place, especially because he could easily go to jail for weeding out all the female applicants and older men before the interviews – a flagrant violation of the anti-discrimination laws. His instructions had been clear: young, male, in good shape. Bruno was the first one to get sent to me. I saw him one afternoon at three o’clock when most of my staff were out. I gave Miriam, my secretary, and Lucy, my executive assistant, strict instructions to hold all calls and not to disturb me. A “DND” notation on my calendar reminded them both. Bruno was actually a very good-looking young man, tall, lean, blond, and dressed in a neatly tailored suit that showed his figure to perfection. I made small talk of a work-related kind while I sat on the edge of my desk in front of him, periodically “adjusting” my cock and balls in my suit trousers. I’d deliberately freeballed for the afternoon. I was doing my best to give a really good performance because I was sure there was a camera hidden somewhere in my office, although I hadn’t spotted it yet. Mikael had told me that the blackmail Flowers had used on us would be repeated, with variations, on each of the interviewees. After about five minutes, I could see that Bruno was staring at the bulge that was slowly growing in my crotch. I asked, “Do you normally stare like that at business meetings?” “Uhh… no. No. It’s just….” He fumbled anxiously for something to say, to cover himself. “It’s okay, Bruno. We’re men. It’s normal. I’m enjoying the view too.” With that, I let my eyes run slowly down his shapely body and rested them on his trousers, which were definitely swelling. “Come here.” I beckoned him and he stood up. “It’s okay, Bruno, the door is locked.” I took his hand and rested it on my bulge. “Want a look?” He did. He slid my zipper down and my cock jumped right out like a striking snake. He had his hand around it and began stroking me. “Bruno, get down there and suck it.” His mouth was talented. He got right down to work on me, and soon had me moaning. After about five minutes, I was rock-hard and my precum was leaking out. That’s when I told him, “Okay, stand up.” He did. “Turn around and lean on the desk.” Then I reached around him, unfastened his belt, and undid his trousers. As they dropped, I grasped his briefs and slid them down, popping them over his cock which sprang loose. I grabbed a small bottle of lube out of my pocket, squeezed some out, and proceeded to grease up my cock, and then to start fingering his hole and spreading the lube around and into him. He groaned, turned his head, and said, “I’ve never been…. I mean, I’m always the top.” “I’ll bet you enjoyed Mikael, then. He loves a big boy like you with a big, long cock like yours.” “Yeah. I did.” “And I love a nice boy with a firm round ass, especially one that’s never been fucked. Are you a virgin?” Bruno nodded. “I’ll be gentle. I want you to enjoy this.” I was practically purring into his ear, but all the time I was watching my own actions from another point of my mind and despising myself for every second of my awful fake-pornstar performance. It took about fifteen minutes and a lot of lube, but eventually I got my cock all the way up inside Bruno’s tight, tight hole. Definitely a virgin. “God, that feels awesome, Bruno. I’ve never had a virgin ass before. So tight and hot. Are you ready for more?” He nodded hesitantly, and I began to slide slowly out and then back in. He moaned and sighed as I slowly worked my cock in his ass. Over the course of a few minutes, he relaxed his hole’s death grip on my tool and I speeded it up until I was driving into him at a good fierce speed, and his moans were becoming cries of passion. I was thankful that the thick stone walls of the building and heavy doors provided adequate soundproofing. It was time. Time to relax, to forget about prying eyes, to forget about everything except the feeling of cock in ass, the feeling of a tight hole stroking me, the sensation of ecstasy rising slowly, higher and higher up my rod. And then it happened. I blew my load deep into his sweet virgin ass, filling his hole right up with five generous spurts of my seed. As I bred him, his cock was busily shooting another big load onto the floor. I’d have to clean that up fast so it wouldn’t leave a stain. As my orgasm died away, I pulled out, then knelt down and went to work on his ass, sucking and slurping my cum back out of him so I could swallow it. I was damned if I was going to do any kissing under threat of blackmail, and I was pretty sure that I had given Flowers what he wanted anyway. As Bruno got dressed, I thanked him for a most interesting interview and said, “Mikael will be in touch with you about your final appointment. I’ll walk you out.” After he’d gone, I sat there for a while, struggling with my conscience – or what was left of it. The only other thought in my mind was a devout, “Thank God for PreP.” Each of the others that I got to see followed a similar pattern. After a while, I simply became numb to the whole process. They came in, I seduced them, I fucked them, I dumped my cum in them, and they left. It wasn’t exactly a continuous parade, but I typically saw four or five every year. Having the older and less fit-and-toned Flowers working them over was something that I imagine a lot of them couldn’t stomach, while the ones who did would be looking for other work soon enough. Something told me that Flowers wouldn’t be satisfied with just one interview per guy once they were hired. Throughout my years in Cabinet, it went on. They came, we fucked, and they went. The one thing I was more and more sure of after each interview was that I despised myself, and even more, that I loathed President Desmond Flowers. That carefully-crafted public image of a benign patriarch who made lovely speeches about home and country, motherhood and family and mango pie, was all a sham. In reality, the man was a horny old goat, pretending to hate “faggots” while secretly fucking around with boys less than half his age left, right, and centre. All this, mind you, while his wife was slowly dying of a relentless and incurable cancer that didn’t have the decency to finish her off quickly. His behaviour was sickening beyond belief. And I still had no idea what his ulterior motive, his hidden agenda in the matter might be. I was certain, though, that he wasn’t going to all this trouble just to get a steady stream of hot young meat in his bed. That was his fringe benefit. I was living a weird triple life. At work, I was the business-like cabinet minister at meetings, running his department, introducing legislation and steering it through the Assembly, and attending all kinds of ceremonial public functions. At night, I was the relaxed, funny, happy husband, loving every minute with his lifelong love. And at odd hours in between, I was a criminal – a pimp, procuring for the purposes of prostitution to all intents and purposes, even though I most certainly wasn’t living off the proceeds. All that time, it was Tommy and my home life that saved my sanity. God knows what I might have done if I didn’t have that unswerving love to safely lift my release valve and let the stress escape. There were sad times and happy times, of course. My grandmother lived long enough to be given a front-row seat of honour at my swearing-in ceremony and preened herself like a peacock as her grandson took his place for the formal Cabinet photograph. She died just a couple of weeks later, but at the ripe old age of 87 she had certainly had a good innings – and she passed gently, in her sleep. My mother was more distressed than I was, but even she wasn’t nearly as upset as she had been at the death of her father, years earlier. At work, I had first of all steered through the Assembly a bill amending the Constitution to create a Supreme Court for Alcantara, a necessary feature due to the more frequent and more complex cases coming before the courts now that the country had such a booming population and economy. The old informal system of referring final appeals to a sub-committee of Cabinet couldn’t cope. Although there were some objections leading to minor amendments, the bill eventually passed unanimously. I stood proudly beside the Premier and the President as the President signed the amendment decree, although I thought he had a bit of a sour expression as he did so. Shortly afterwards, I introduced a second bill which passed with very minimal debate, and again unanimously: a bill creating a small claims court, to take the numerous minor civil issues out of the regular court stream into a more informal adjudication process. This was modelled on the systems I had observed in Canada during my legal training and worked just as well for us in practice. For me, though, the personal highlight of my first term began when I requested a meeting with the Premier and showed her the draft of a bill creating the institution of civil marriage for any two consenting adults. The bill carefully avoided sexist language, but it filled an important gap by allowing Alcantarans to marry civilly, in front of a judge or registrar, without being forced (as until that date) to go to a church. This, of course, meant (although I didn’t promote that aspect of it) that same-sex couples would be able to marry too. This one ran into rough waters in the Assembly. Because of my personal stake in the matter, I asked the Premier (and was permitted) to withdraw it as a government bill and reintroduce it as a private member’s bill. When the churches objected to possibly being forced to perform marriages against their beliefs, I pointed out patiently, again and again, that this bill defined civil marriages only, and that churches were still free under the Constitution to perform their marriages as they wished, without interference from the government or the courts. Benita made a fire-eating speech in favour of the bill, in which she praised me to the skies as a perfect example of a fine man, a leading statesman, an exemplary lawyer, and a truly loving partner who happened to be gay. She finished, “And if this bill passes, I hope that Richard and Tomoyoshi will invite me to their wedding!” She sat down amid cheers from the government benches, while the lone member of the Conservadores scowled. In the public gallery, Tommy smiled happily at her perfect pronunciation of his proper name. Before the final vote, Benita announced that it was a free vote to be held by secret ballot, so that all members were free to vote as they saw fit, according to conscience or the views of their constituents. The bill passed by a vote of 30 to 1, and it wasn’t hard to guess who the lone dissenter had been. At the signing ceremony, I stood proudly beside Desmond Flowers as he signed the bill, looking for all the world like he’d just been forced to drink poison. I’m sure no one there, except me and Mikael, was aware of just how fraudulent his performance was. That night, gay citizens and residents poured into Portavedra from all three islands for a huge party in the community recreation centre. The organizers, thorough in every detail, had even thought to ask the ferry authority to run a few late boats to each of Isabella and Serafina so everyone could get home afterwards. I wasn’t aware that this party was in the works until a call came for me at 6:00, telling me that a car would be there to pick up Tommy and myself at 7:30. We’d actually been planning a slightly more private victory celebration, but we figured that this night was an important one to wave the flag in public, both figuratively and literally. The party was an immense blowout, and it was attended by many straight allies as well as pretty much every LGBTQ person in the country. Benita was asked to introduce me, and she gave the shortest speech I could ever remember hearing from her. “Folks, you’re not here to listen to me. So welcome the hero of the hour, the Honourable Richard Dunnatore!” I was astounded by the reaction. People stamped, yelled, chanted “Rich! Rich! Rich!” over and over, waving rainbow flags and Alcantaran flags. I stepped up to the podium and prepared to speak, but then the chanting began again, this time changing to “Tom-my! Tom-my! Tom-my!” They kept it up until he finally stepped up to my side. We kissed, and then stood with arms around each other for photos with smiles as wide and bright as the sun while the crowd cheered themselves hoarse. I can’t even remember what I said when I finally did speak, but I think I kept it short (it’s well known that a lawyer’s idea of a “short speech” can seem like half an eternity to non-lawyers!). Then the band began to play, and everyone cut loose on the dance floor. At the first set break, the band leader shouted into his microphone: “All right, everyone! Rich’s bill passed, we’re all legal now, who’s applying for the first marriage licence?” I was actually startled when a dead silence fell. Then someone (I think it was Mikael) started chanting again: “Rich and Tom-my, Rich and Tom-my, Rich and Tom-my,” and the whole crowd took it up. I stepped up, took the microphone from the band leader, and waved for quiet. “Thank you so much, everyone, but I’d really prefer that we not be first because it will make it look like I did it just for myself and Tommy. Somebody else should go first because I did it for all of us, and for all those who come after us, not just for we two.” After more chanting, though, Benita spoke again and convinced me that I both could and should accept the honour being offered to us by the community. “And you will,” she added. At first, I wasn’t sure what she meant, but just then the Registrar-General, who was attending with his daughter and her partner, came forward. He’d made a quick dash down the street to his office and returned with some licence forms and the official seal. Tommy and I signed the papers right then and there, to uproarious cheers, and the Registrar signed and sealed the licence, then had me sign the next form to grant a licence to Sheila (his daughter) and Mary, amid more cheers as I signed and imprinted the seal. I had the legal authority to do it, as the Minister of Justice was also automatically the Attorney-General. We were married on a Saturday three weeks later. Since we did want to invite a number of guests, the Registrar-General gladly agreed to come and perform the ceremony at our home. Our invitation went out informally, by email, and specified “swimsuits and coverups – after the ceremony it’s a pool party!” The guests included my mother, who proudly stood right by us as we pledged our lives to each other, exchanged rings, and signed papers. Tommy’s father Masayoshi, who’d jetted in from Calgary (his mother had died before I met him) stood on the other side. Benita and Grigor sat in the front row, and across from them sat Sheila and Mary. Behind them were an assorted group of political colleagues, Tommy’s university colleagues, Chloe and her husband Allan who’d flown down from Canada for the week, Tommy’s younger brother Mitsuru, and more. My mother, Benita, Sheila, Mary, and Chloe all fulfilled tradition by crying. Mitsuru gave a really clever and cutting best-man type of speech, and Masayoshi played the benign patriarch on behalf of himself and my late father. My mother gave a mother-of-the-bride speech for herself and Tommy’s late mother, Reiko. They both did it far better than Desmond Flowers would have. The wedding pictures, when we got them, displayed a gloriously mismatched rainbow of different coloured beach coverups, garish shorts, slogan tees, and even a couple of ghastly Hawaiian shirts. The party was a raging success, with the pool filled for hours, excited conversations everywhere as everyone seemingly met everyone else, enough drinks to float the Titanic and enough food to sink that legendary ship all over again. We made sure that everyone understood the importance of staying at least till sunset, and we got a real beauty that night, with spectacular cloud colours in the west and a shower over the hills behind us even adding a rainbow in the light from the setting sun. When I looked briefly down the row of houses to the left, there was Mrs. Ironwood, quickly lowering her binoculars, with a poison-pill expression on her face and its tightly-pursed mouth. I waved gleefully and she fled inside. No doubt, she’d seen that the Premier and half the Cabinet were at the party. I was still riding the wave of energy from the success of the Civil Marriage Act when the time came around for the next general election. Buoyed by all that energy, Tommy ran an even more vigorous campaign for me and I scooped over 75% of all votes cast in Greenhills. Overall, our majority was reduced slightly as two more seats shifted, one to the People’s Party, and one to the Conservadores, but we still had solid control. The second term gave no particular high-profile opportunities such as I’d had before, just a steady succession of legal consultations with colleagues about the contents of their bills, or about parliamentary procedure. A couple of times, I had to actively shoulder the Acting Premier responsibility when Benita went out of the country on official visits. It also happened twice when she went on holiday. Everything flowed smoothly while she was absent. When she came home on the last occasion and received my verbal report, she just smiled and said, “You’re ready.” That was when I first realized that she was contemplating retirement. I couldn’t blame her. She was several years older than me, and it would be great for her to enjoy some peace and quiet with Grigor after all her years of hard work for Alcantara and its people. She loved travelling, and certainly deserved a chance to do it more – and to pursue her favourite pastime (also Grigor’s favourite) of golf. I’d been idly thinking of the same thing, but it was still just idle speculation. There’s no question that the idea of following Benita into the Premier’s office appealed to me and my love of political power. I had no idea of what Tommy would think of that, and certainly needed to find out. He’d been more than patient in supporting me up to this time, and I didn’t want to force him into further collaboration. I knew that the role of what he himself had called a “politician’s wife” is a strenuous one, in ways which few outsiders can appreciate. In the last year before elections would have to be held, I had the responsibility of preparing a slate of potential candidates for several new judgeship positions in different parts of the court system. I chaired a series of panel interviews (no, not that kind of interview) which considered a dozen or so candidates, with questions coming from senior lawyers, retiring judges, and a couple of university professors recommended by Tommy for their expertise in areas related to constitutional and civil law. The shortlist went to Benita, and she in turn passed it to a smaller panel of three to make the appointments. I was pleased with the quality of all the judges appointed, and they have often proved their worth in some rather complex and difficult judgements. Finally, though, the election year was looming. The despicable “interviews” for Flowers and his candidates had continued, but not as frequently. I was beginning to hope that the end of this nightmare was in sight. Naïve, yes, but hope is sometimes the only thing that keeps us going. He called me in for another meeting, and this time he laid out for me his grand plan to rewrite the constitution wholesale, granting significant new powers to the President and reducing the Premier and Assembly to mere yes-yes functionaries. I was truly appalled, not only by his effrontery in suggesting such a thing (tantamount to a dictatorship) but in thinking that I, a lifelong lawyer, would support and promote it. But he knew better. He now had a collection of thirty or more videos of my “interviews”, and as many more of Mikael, and I knew that he wouldn’t hesitate to use them. Once I was in the Premier’s office, I would either knuckle under to his mad scheme or be disgraced and driven out. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do it. But I wanted the Premiership. I wanted it so badly. What the hell was I going to do? And it was at that point that inspiration came to me. All I had to do was to remove the source of my problem. And what, you might ask, was the source of my problem? One thing I had to do for sure. I had to tell Tommy. Cabinet secrecy be damned, I was going to rip myself apart if I kept holding it all inside me. I had to admit everything, including the “interviews,” and risk what his reaction might be. I was in such a desperate state of self-hatred that I was even prepared to lose Tommy, if only I could get a bit of my integrity and honesty back. That’s when I picked up my burner phone and called another burner phone. Mikael’s. He sounded worried when I explained to him what Flowers had in mind. “Did you know about that?” “No, he never tells me anything I don’t need to know. But it’s pretty obvious now that you’ve been his target all along. He just used me to get to you. Anyway, we might have a bigger problem. Ironwood is sniffing around for something. He’s been asking questions. I think one of the candidates leaked to him.” Now I understood. The “he” of Mikael’s earlier panicky call hadn’t been a reference to Flowers, but to Ironwood. Jonathan Ironwood was the leader of the Conservadores, elected to that position five years earlier, although he had yet to acquire a seat in the Assembly. My nosy neighbour of the same name was his aunt. It was a fine old Alcantaran name, dating back to a 17th century pirate who got the name due to a folk tale which claimed that a black magic spell protected the hull of his ship from cannonballs. “Well, we can worry about Ironwood later. Right now, Flowers is the real threat. Now, Mikael, here’s what I want you to do….”

Great to see Alfonso playing a return date with Alex and Company. Anticipating what's going to happen in Mauritius is getting me all wound up again! I love the way you're building up the story.

@ChaserKubby Wow, thank you so much for the compliments. Writing's not my job, although I've done a great deal of writing all my life. I just enjoy and love writing! Like most of my creative stories, this one has little bits of autobiographical or real-life material woven into it, but always mixed up with more invented things, or else I create characters made up of bits and pieces of many people I've known (Rich, Tommy, and Benita all fit that formula). Thank you again!

Chapter 6 Love and Blackmail Tommy came home later than usual on Tuesday, and found Rich sitting in the twilight, no lights on, nothing done about dinner, nothing but an empty glass by his side on the table. He was asleep. Tommy sighed, picked up the glass, and headed for the kitchen to pull together an easy and quick dinner for them. He was no fool. He could tell that the “work issues” that were besetting Rich were big, complex, and troubling for him. He also guessed, rightly as it turned out, that the retirement of Benita Caladesa had triggered this latest round of unrest. Tommy wished he could do something to help Rich sort it all out, but he knew that Rich had to resolve his own demons and was struggling with them through his writing. He also knew, and acknowledged with sadness, that whatever was troubling Rich was something he would likely never know about, unless it somehow got leaked to the press. When he had the food ready, he gently woke Rich up. Rich looked around, baffled at first, then quickly remembered his last chapter of his memoir and the unnerving phone call. He pulled himself up, went to wash his hands, and sat down to eat. Tommy did make an effort to probe gently. He wasn’t at all surprised at the answer. “I’m sorry, Tommy – work issues. I can tell you, though, I’m trying to figure out how to clear it up quickly and painlessly so you can give an answer to the University about the Dean’s position. Two more days, maximum. I don’t want to hang you out to dry with the offer, but that’s the best I can do.” “Thanks for this. At least, I can give them a timeline, let them know when my answer is coming. You know, they won’t find it any harder than I do to guess that Benita’s announcement is at the root of the problem.” Rich smiled. “Deep in, but not right at the root. And it’s terrible trying to figure this one out, because it’s only the second time in my life that I’ve been completely at a loss about my next move. I’m sorry, that’s all I can say.” Tommy nodded, smiled, and put it aside while they finished their meal. After dinner, Rich returned to his computer. He sat there and pondered. The second time, he’d said to Tommy. What was the first time? He opened a new chapter file and began. ******************** Fortunately, I didn’t have a lot of time to brood over Hiroshi’s departure because my mother had decided that she wanted to sell the house and downsize into a condominium. I didn’t blame her one bit, but it added another onerous task to the will itself. On the other hand, having the cash in hand for the house would make resolving the estate a bit simpler. Chloe came down from her home in Ottawa where she was now attending university. With both of us there to speed the process, my mother went through the house reasonably quickly, picking out the things she wanted to save. These were mostly small items, keepsakes, and other treasures. The furniture mostly dated from when I was two or three years old, and thus could reasonably be disposed of for possible refurbishment and resale by other hands. Chloe and I also picked out such things as we wished to keep, mostly paintings from the walls. While all this was going on, I began to realize another truth. I had to move back to Toronto. My mother was left with no other family close at hand, and I certainly owed her my support after the way she had backed me at the time I had come out. I was pretty sure I owed my generous treatment in the will to her efforts at bringing my father to understand why I had become the man I had. All the same, I surprised her a bit when we set out to do some condo shopping, and I told her we were shopping for a building where we could find two good units – one for her, and one for me. She was, however, both happy and grateful that I had decided to come back to Toronto. In the end, we found two good units in one of the new buildings that were starting to spring up along the waterfront, overlooking the lake. She took one lower down, on the eighth floor, but I went all the way up to the twenty-third floor, loving the view out over the lake, the harbour, and the islands. Her only comment, unusually tart for her was, “Be sure you keep one or two chairs well away from the windows at that height, for me when I come to visit.” The rest of the business went smoothly – arranging to transfer my credits from Mainland U. in Vancouver to one of the leading law schools in Toronto, clearing out and giving sixty days’ notice on my apartment in Vancouver, and saying goodbye to my numerous friends there. One night, a few of us were out pubbing together. As we sat, talking and drinking, the door opened and a distinguished gentleman whose face I knew from the business pages walked in, with a younger man following him. As they sat down, the younger guy was facing me, and I recognized him. Carlo. His face went a bit white as he saw and recognized me too. I said to my friend Chris, who was sitting across the corner of the table from me, “I’m going to get up and go to the john. When I do, I want you to slide over and take my seat, then talk to Zane. When I come back, I’ll just sit in your chair.” “What the…?” “Be a good guy, and just do it.” That way, at least I wasn’t facing Carlo when I sat down again. After one drink, Carlo and the man I was quite sure was a client got up and left. I never saw him again. I have to be honest with myself. It wasn’t the memory of his casual abuse of my trust that upset me. It was the way the sight of him reminded me of how, in some very uncomfortable ways, I wasn’t at all different from him. And I wanted to be someone different, better, more trustworthy. Back in Toronto, I quickly settled into new routines, making use of regularly scheduled daily open swimming times at the university’s beautiful 50-metre pool, and resuming my workouts until I was better than eighty percent of the way back to the kind of lap times I’d enjoyed in my club days. I also had a couple of hot dates with guys I met at the pool, and guys I met at bars. Nothing more secure, though. I’d given my mother a quick, condensed version of my experience with Hiroshi and she, sensing that the way it ended had been very unhappy for me, asked no more. Fast forward. I finally completed law school, a year late, but with my usual top grades. With those numbers, I had no trouble lining up a law firm at which to complete my articling and prepare for the bar exam. My mentor was a distinguished senior lawyer, a partner in the firm, and (a warning sign of future trouble?) later disbarred for various shady dealings. Another student, Franklin “Frank” Abernathy, was articling with another senior partner who later also got disbarred as part of the same scandal. We became friends quite easily, having so much in common (he’d also lost his father). We also shared common convictions along the lines of making life more equitable for more people in society, an attitude which put us at polar odds with many of our co-professionals. As our articling time came to an end, and we both successfully passed the bar exams, Frank had an interesting proposition to make. We were both highly successful students, we’d both had some intriguing hands-on life experiences, and we both came from well-to-do, mixed-marriage families involving what we now call “persons of colour.” Why didn’t we set up shop in our own office, becoming founding partners of the firm? I was the one who contributed the idea that we place ourselves in one of the under-serviced neighbourhoods full of recent immigrants. Long story short: within less than a year, we’d gotten ourselves organized and “Dunnatore and Abernathy, Law Office” was in business with a staff of two lawyers, one clerk, and one secretary, all in a walk-up office above a family drugstore in the city’s northwest quadrant. The choice of location above a drugstore was inspired. People quickly got to see and know where our office was. And we made a point of being seen and being approachable, out and about in the neighbourhood. We ate lunch in different neighbourhood spots every day, and we met all kinds of local residents that way. I wasn’t at all surprised that my skin colour made many people feel more comfortable approaching me, at first anyway – but they quickly found out that both of us were approachable and trustworthy. We quickly learned how to turn a request for free advice in a café into a request for an appointment in the office. Before long, we had a good slate of clients, and found ourselves doing just what we would have done in a small town – a little of everything. We had real estate files, wills to prepare, traffic charges, divorce and custody cases to handle, along with a smattering of minor criminal matters and the odd civil lawsuit. We quickly developed a track record of success in court, and the word spread that we were both dependable and successful at getting results. In time, we had become so successful that we also had to rent the office next to ours, and then we each had our own office, with two secretaries and two clerks – and all six of us were busy as bees, day in and day out. Somewhere along the way, I can’t recall exactly how or when, I gradually clued into the reality that Frank was also gay. We were both so immersed in our professional lives that our relationship had proceeded entirely on work lines, and was all about our lives as lawyers, not our lives after hours. I’d been open about being gay from the start, but Frank had not. It was less a case of his being nervous or shy, and more a case in which, while he may have preferred men, he was too busy to want or care about sex. His profession was all-consuming for him. None of that reality stopped me from admiring him more and more, and finally from coming to love him, but as a friend. It seemed that, in law, there was nothing he couldn’t do, and I was continually awed by his ability to sense and dig out of his clients the key points that I might very well never have found. But, as always in my life, I was learning quickly by absorbing what I saw, heard, and read. My own sex life was at a standstill. This was largely due to the fact that I was keeping longer hours again, added to the commute time from my condo downtown to the office. At least, as Frank pointed out to me, I was running against the main flow of traffic. This was before Toronto had grown to the point where rush hour became a 16-hour-long, all-directions-at-once madhouse. Running our own office was exhilarating, rewarding, and exhausting all at once. I savoured the excitement of it all, but let the tiredness pass me by. After all, I was keeping up my workouts in the decent-sized pool of the condo building, even though I was having to do some of my swimming at rather odd times (I had asked for and, more surprisingly, received permission to use the pool for my workouts outside of normal hours as long as I didn’t admit anyone else). That gave me the energy to keep myself running at top speed during working hours. I did notice that the fatigue was getting to Frank, though. Once or twice, I urged him to lighten up a bit, but he just laughed it off. I was thirty-one years old, a success in my profession by my own slightly eccentric standards, and looking forward to more of the same, when my life took another one of those wild swerves. I came into the office one morning in 1998 to be greeted by Madge, Frank’s secretary, who asked to speak to me privately. I could tell she was crying. She said she had gotten a call from the hospital. Frank had been admitted in the early hours, and they were seeking his next of kin to contact. She had said she would ask me. I called the hospital, identified myself as Frank’s business partner, explained that we had no information of any next-of-kin, and asked to speak to him. The receptionist on the phone asked me to come in and speak with the doctor in person, and I smelled trouble right away. I told Madge, and Lily, my secretary, to cancel all appointments for the day. I made my way to the hospital, a drive of several rush-hour miles. Asking my way through to Doctor Idris, I learned that Frank had died at 3:45 am of a massive heart attack. He was the same age as me. I don’t need to go through all the shock waves that followed, the need to take charge of his estate until a trustee could be appointed, since no next of kin could be located at all, and the unpleasant yet morbidly amusing discovery that Frank, the consummate lawyer, had become the butt of the worst law school jokes by dying without a will. That meant that I had to dismantle our entire office, with all the complications that this entailed, in order to pay the share of his half-ownership to the estate, which would then revert to the government. What a mess. Paying off our loyal staff and saying goodbye to them on the last day was painful. They had all worked just as hard as we had to make our office function efficiently and were true friends as well as exemplary supporters. Add to that the fresh dose of pain at the loss of a valued colleague and personal friend, a man who had more in common with me than any other lawyer I had ever met -- or would ever meet in the years to come. It took me a couple of years to untangle myself from all of that, and to find, interview for, and secure, a position as partner in a larger law firm. I’d enjoyed my time as a self-employed legal entrepreneur, but I was ready to get into a less tiring, less unpredictable position. It worked out well. Indeed, it did more than that, for one of my first clients was the government of Alcantara, of all places, which required representation in a legal case before the Canadian courts involving the large, Canadian-owned (at that time) diamond mine which was wildly transforming the rural tropical paradise that I remembered. And that was how I first met Benita Caladesa. She was a staff lawyer for the Alcantaran government, in the Ministry of Resources and Environment, and she immediately impressed me as resourceful, committed, and more than competent. They’d engaged our firm because they would save endless hours of hassle by having a lawyer expert in Canadian law and procedures to advise them as well as to officially represent the country in court. It was pure chance that they approached a firm which happened to have a half-Alcantaran lawyer on the staff, but that turned out to be a huge benefit because I was so familiar with the country already and knew so many things about Alcantara that any of my colleagues would have needed to have tediously explained to them. Benita and I worked tirelessly together on preparing the case, and we succeeded in arguing rings around the mining company when the case came to trial. We also won the inevitable appeal, two years later. The upshot of the whole experience was that, quite naturally, she and I became lifetime friends. But there was more to it. She informed me of a recent change to the citizenship laws and urged me to apply for Alcantaran citizenship, as my mother had retained hers. Since Alcantara was on the very short list of countries whose citizenship was recognized by Canada for dual nationality, I leaped at the chance and within a couple of months got my first Alcantaran passport. I’ve never regretted it. After the final appeal verdict was handed down, in April 2000, Benita invited me to come to a celebration cocktail party at the Alcantaran Embassy in Ottawa the following night, and I extended my stay in the capital one more day. At the party, I met the ambassador and his wife, the embassy staff, and a number of other guests. Aside from the court victory, the event was also a chance to find out more about Alcantara for a number of academics who were shortlisted for positions at the new University of Alcantara, opening that year in Portavedra. One of these candidates was a young Asian man who was considering accepting a term appointment to teach first-year courses in history and international relations. I had to ask him his to pronounce his name very slowly so that I could get it. He smiled, obviously used to this request by now, and carefully sounded it out. “Tomoyoshi Takahashi.” I tried -- and stumbled over the syllables while he laughed delightedly. After I asked him a second, and then a third, time to pronounce it again, he just chuckled and said, “Call me Tommy. Everyone does anyway.” I noted his cultivated and entirely idiomatic English, and my eyebrows must have arched a trifle – the typical lawyerly response which I had absorbed from my articling mentor. He laughed again. “I was born and raised in Canada, as were my parents. Just the traditional ancestral name, everything else about me is thoroughly westernized.” It was the ready and joyous laugh that won me over – you might even say it captivated me. Besides Hiroshi, I had met a number of East Asian men, and one and all had been relatively quiet and solemn fellows until called upon to speak. Tommy was a totally different character right from the get-go. We chatted for a couple of minutes longer, and I wished him luck on his upcoming appointment to the new university in Portavedra, which he had decided to accept. “I may even bump into you the next time I am down there,” I said in closing. “I certainly hope so,” Tommy responded heartily, with a smile and a wink – and suddenly I was seeing our entire conversation in a different light. As life continued in Toronto, as I built my reputation in the profession, as I worked through a steadily increasing line of high-profile cases with successful results, the memory of that conversation at the cocktail party would crop back up at odd moments. Funny how something as simple as a smile and a wink can ingrain itself into your mind. The following December, I took my mother for a winter visit to my grandmother in Alcantara. Grandmother had sold the beach property, where the old family home had stood, to a developer, and was living in a new apartment building in the booming hillside neighbourhoods of Portavedra. The whole country’s appearance was dramatically changing due to the massive developments coming in the wake of the successful diamond mine on the island of Isabella. Most telling change of all was the opening of the airport. We were able to fly in on a nonstop flight, four hours from Toronto versus the former all-day trip of two flights and a ferry. Our fellow passengers were nearly all tourists, bound for the new and hugely popular resorts on Serafina, and one or two looked askance when I told them we were spending our holidays right in Portavedra. My mother opted to stay for a couple of months, while I flew home again after a two-week vacation. That beach break did me a world of good, though, after all the activity of the last months. The next year, I flew down with her again, and this time she decided she wanted to sell her condo in Toronto and live in Alcantara, full time. I agreed to handle the sale for her and said that I could pack up anything she wanted me to send down. She gave me a list of things, and then arranged herself an apartment in the same building as her mother. One day in early December, during that trip, I was lounging on the beach, thinking my thoughts while working on my tan in my usual speedo. A voice cut across my reverie. “Excuse me. Haven’t we met before?” I couldn’t see his face very well because of the hat and sunglasses. “I’m not sure, I can’t see your face.” “Well, then, you take your sunglasses off too.” This was followed by a musical laugh – and I knew right away who it was. As soon as I pulled off my sunglasses, he laughed again. “Ah, yes, the man who can’t pronounce my perfectly straightforward Japanese name.” I laughed myself, and said, “Well, feel free to pull up a chunk of sand and sit down.” Passing lightly over the conversation that followed, it’s enough to say that the day progressed from there via swimming in the ocean – he was every bit as competent a swimmer as I was – to drinks in my hotel, then to a spectacular dinner in the hotel restaurant, and from there to a nightcap in my room. Somewhere along the line, Tommy had given me a new name. “I can’t call you Rick, or Ricky. I can’t and I won’t. Too teenage boyish. And I won’t call you Richard, that’s for formal business meetings and embassy receptions. You’re Rich.” “Well, yes, I am, but what does that have to do with it?” He silenced me with a playful little slap, actually more than half a caress, across my hand. “I’m calling you Rich. It suits you perfectly, because you’re rich in so many things, not just money.” Okay, I’m Rich – and that became my preferred name with him and with friends from then on. I not only couldn’t argue with Tommy, I didn’t want to. Everything about Tommy captivated me, not just the laugh. A fascinating conversationalist, a light-hearted jokester who brought the same out in me (legal practice had a way of suppressing that part of my personality), a balancing serious and thoughtful side, a kind and caring heart, a gourmet cook, a wine and whisky aficionado, and a taut, lean body which cut through the water like a knife, with a noticeable bulge in the front of his speedo – I mean, really, what’s not to like? It was easy to follow his example when he put down his glass, turned, and began to kiss me deeply as we sat together on the sofa in my hotel room. Things moved on from there, about as you might expect. Before long we were undressing each other, and his expert fingers were doing things to my body that no one before had ever managed, finding new touch points all over me to wake me up and make my erection bigger and harder with each passing second. I realized he was having similar thoughts about me when he pulled down my briefs and said, “Wow! All this and well-hung too!” With that he dropped to his knees and swallowed my meat all the way down. If I’d thought his fingers were magical, then the sensations his talented mouth and throat were giving me were beyond miraculous. I was struggling to hold on, not wanting to cum too soon, because I wanted to get a really thorough look in at that firm, slim Asian ass. At last, I urged him up and off, then stood, took his hand, and walked him over to the bed, turning down the covers before he lay down and urged me to join him. And that’s when he asked the Big Question that now preceded pretty much any and every trip to the bedroom. “Status?” “Negative. Tested regularly.” “Same here. Rubbers?” “Only if you want to.” He laughed and shook his head. I moved fast then, grabbing his legs and rolling him over, so that his muscled back tapered down temptingly towards that perfect ass. I had my face buried between those cheeks almost before he knew what hit him, judging by the surprised gasp and moans of joy. I ate his butt for a good fifteen minutes until I had my own cock rock-hard and dripping, and he had become a quivering mass of ecstatic jelly. It was time. I placed my cockhead against his hole and felt it already beginning to open up, needing it, wanting it, avid to be fucked. As I began to slide into him, Tommy moaned “Yeaaahhhh,” in a long, sustained purr. His ass opened right up and ate my cock, all the way down, until it was completely hidden from view. Then I lay down, full length, on top of him, wrapping my arms around his neck, and kissing his cheek repeatedly. As I did that, I slowly squirmed around, making my tool stir his guts into a froth of excitement. He turned his head to the side and thrust his tongue deep into my mouth. That was my signal to start humping. Moving slowly at first, I gradually accelerated, shifting gears until I was going at full highway speed, in overdrive, hips smacking out a rapid tattoo against his tight butt cheeks. As I did, I slowly lifted up off his body until I was leaning over him at an angle, driving and thrusting into him like a mad thing. At that speed, I couldn’t hold off long, and he knew it as well as I did. He heard my harsh, irregular breathing, almost gasping for air, and started squeezing down as hard as he could with his ass muscles. I was seconds away from cumming, and he growled, in a sexy animal voice, “Come on stud, cum inside me! Fill me up with your seed!” And I did. I exploded deep inside him, my cock pouring out a tidal wave of sperm into his body. As the intense spasms died down, my arms lost their strength and I collapsed on top of him again, once more exchanging tongue kisses as our breathing returned slowly to normal. At last I asked him, “Did you cum?” “No. I saved it for you.” With that, Tommy suddenly reared up, throwing me clear off his body and over onto my back beside him. In the time it took me to think how can such a slim beanpole of a guy be so damn strong? he had my legs in the air and was prodding his rigid cock at my hole. I felt a momentary panic. “Wait! I haven’t been fucked for years and you’re going to need some lube.” “This will do.” He reached back, swiped his hand up his ass crack and came up with a palmful of my cum which apparently was pouring out of him. He slapped some on my hole, wiped the rest on his crack, and said, “There! Self-lubed!” Then he proceeded to push into my hole. I let out a cry of protest, but Tommy muffled it by planting his mouth firmly on mine and kissing me passionately. To my amazement, it worked. Between the passion and the impromptu lube, and what I later recognized was a strong desire to be fucked again, my hole opened up and let him in. Somehow, I’ve never forgotten my astonishment on that first night that such a slim man, inches shorter than me, could somehow swell his decent-sized but not giant cock large enough to fill and stretch me all the way. But that magical trick was what he did and then, pushing my legs back over my head, he proceeded to fuck me. And boy, did he ever fuck me! I’d never had such a ride in my life, combining all the strength of some of the huge tops of my past like Andre with all the subtlety that only an artist of sex could bring to it. Tommy was an artist of sex, in no uncertain terms, and he gave me such a spectacularly varied ride that I felt ashamed of myself for my own relatively poor showing. He also lasted a lot longer than I did, changing positions, and fucking me six ways from Sunday at every angle you could think of. Every time he changed it up, he would grab my body and flip me into the new position as if I were a rag doll or his stuffed bear. At last, though, he returned to missionary and proceeded to pound me fast and straight and hard until his load erupted volcanically inside me. As he did, my cock, now hard again, started screaming for release. I grabbed it, jerked it violently seven or eight times, and blew another load across my chest and abs while he was still pumping his into me. Afterwards, as we calmed down again, we fell back onto the bed side by side, and slowly rolled together. Arms around each other, we kissed until we got sleepy and then we let ourselves go, sleeping deeply and peacefully in our lovers’ embrace. The next night saw a tremendously varied return engagement, so to speak. My mother and grandmother certainly noticed that they were suddenly not seeing as much of me. When they did see me, it was my mother who asked why. I invited them to guess, and my grandmother hit the nail right on the head. “Ricky’s met somebody, and he’s fallen in love, that’s why.” I smiled sheepishly. My mother pounced on that right away. “When a man smiles like a sheep, you know he’s been shot through the heart by Cupid. Is it serious, Ricky?” “I think so.” For the rest of the week, we spent hours together every day, whenever Tommy’s schedule allowed. We sunned on the beach and swam in the ocean. We talked for hours about our lives, our pasts, our hopes, our dreams. We got around to a good selection of the new restaurants popping up in Portavedra, including a memorable dinner of local fish at Aquarius, which undoubtedly became – and remains – our go-to favourite. As I look back on that week, I realize now that we were laying the groundwork for a lifetime spent together, not that I quite saw it that way at the time. On the last night before I was to fly home, I went to Tommy’s apartment. He’d cooked up a wonderful dinner of fresh local shellfish with a spicy fruit salsa, far better than any of the restaurants in town could offer. The wine was an impressive vintage from a small Austrian winery. The coffee was just as delicious. After dinner, we sat and chatted for a few minutes, but then Tommy stood up decisively, reached out for my hand to draw me to my feet, and said, “We have so little time, and we’re wasting it.” In the bedroom, though, we really took our sweet time making out, kissing and swapping tongues, and slowly, seductively undressing each other. He had such sensitive hands and fingers and could give me the shivers by stroking any part of my body with his gentle, magical touch. But I also loved the way his arms would slide slowly around my torso and then suddenly tighten, crushing my body against his as he roughened up his kisses, forcing his hot, demanding mouth hard against mine. Eventually, we got right down to our briefs, and it was my turn to peel his off first. I had to pull his waistband a long way out to clear his cock which was already tenting the material, but eventually I got it clear and began to carefully tongue his tool. Before long he was holding the sides of my head and forcefully fucking my face, driving his hard meat down into my throat over and over. But then he started to pull back, saying, “I’ve got to stop before you make me cum.” “Like hell you’re stopping. I’m going to drink your load right now.” I plunged back down, sucking harder than ever, and in moments his cock quivered, contracted, and expelled his sperm forcefully into my throat. I pulled back a bit to get it all in my mouth. Then I stood up and kissed him again, swapping his cum with him in an ecstatic snowball. My own cock was now dripping wet and ready for action, but I held off to let him recover. Instead of attacking him instantly, I swept him up in my arms, and strode to the bed while Tommy giggled joyfully like any blushing bride in a 1950s romantic comedy. After I dropped him on the bed, I climbed on top and lay down full length. Over the next hour I fucked two loads of cum into his ass, and in between he returned the favour by loading me up again too. Afterwards, as we lay curled up together, cuddling and caressing, I knew that this was it. I just knew. This was love – no, more than that, this was the great love of my life. This man was my perfect partner and counterweight, and I wanted to spend my life with him and no one else. And just as I was thinking that, Tommy spoke. “I wish you didn’t have to leave tomorrow.” “So do I, Tommy.” “Rich, maybe this is crazy, and it’s certainly too soon, but I can’t help myself. Because when you know, you know. Rich, I love you.” “It’s not crazy, and it’s not too soon. I love you, Tommy. I love you and I want to be with you forever.” That was it – the moment we committed to each other for life. We never questioned, never doubted, never turned aside from that purpose, from that night on. He sighed, a sigh full of bliss and contentment and, laying his head down on my chest, he fell asleep. I followed right after him into dreamland. I dreamed of being with him, of living together in a beautiful house, high up on the hills, overlooking Portavedra. When I thought about those dreams afterwards, on my flight back to Canada, that’s when I realized what I should have known all along, that Alcantara was really my natural home and the place where I belonged – but it was because Tommy was there. When I awoke in the morning, he was propped up on one elbow beside me, kissing me awake. He then backed off and looked at me with a twinkle in his eye. “Welcome back to real life, Sleeping Beauty.” I reached for him, pulled him down into my arms, and began kissing him intensely and deeply. But he pushed me away again, shaking his head in mock disapproval. “Uh-uh. You need to get down to the airport ferry terminal and check in for your flight before the ten o’clock ferry to the airport, and I have to clean up the mess you’ve left here before my one o’clock lecture. Up and at ‘em, lover boy!” What else could I do but laugh with him? But I got up, showered, dressed, and downed a delicious cup of coffee and two homemade hot croissants before it was time to say goodbye. I’d already said goodbye to my mother and grandmother the afternoon before, telling them that I would go directly to the airport in the morning. I’d also checked out of the hotel a day early. And I didn’t want to go. But I knew it was only for a short while, just long enough to finish off my cases in Toronto and clear out my condominium and my mother’s condominium for resale. However, the senior partners of the firm had different ideas. When they got wind of my plans to leave the firm and move out, they called me in to offer me a different approach. Thanks to the case for the Alcantaran government, we’d gotten several other requests for representation from Alcantara. The partners were aware of, and entirely sympathetic to, my desire to be with the man I loved. They had also done their research and determined that there was a dire shortage of general law offices in the country. Their idea was that we would expand our reach by opening an office in Portavedra, using several lawyers and extending service across the entire country. And they would add me to the senior partners of the firm, putting me in sole charge of the new office. I was up for that challenge. Within a month, I had completed the task of wrapping up my life in Toronto and had moved in with Tommy in Portavedra. His apartment was all right for one but a bit crowded for two, and it would soon be time to go shopping for something bigger and better. At the same time, I was going through the bureaucratic procedures involved in recertifying myself to practise law in Alcantara. This was less of an ordeal than I had feared, since Alcantara (like most of Canada) used a legal system based on the British common law tradition, which had been adopted wholesale after independence in the 1820s. Within a few months, I was cleared to go to work, and proceeded to establish my firm’s office in a bright new building downtown, near the waterfront, as well as hiring two young local lawyers to work for us. One of the first people I connected with upon settling in Alcantara was Benita. I promptly invited her for dinner and Tommy just as promptly charmed her with his easy-going welcome to our home. She, and her husband Grigor, became frequent and welcome guests. We also invited my mother and grandmother to visit with us, and they too succumbed quickly to Tommy’s polite deference and kindness as much as to his bubbling good humour. At the time, gay life in Alcantara was rather thin on the ground, but I saw no reason to conceal myself after having lived openly for so many years. When we held a reception to celebrate the opening of the office, I introduced Tommy to all and sundry as my life partner. By this time, too, I had finally – finally – mastered the trick of pronouncing his name. That made it easy for him to add on the usual, “but just call me Tommy” every time I introduced him. The event was written up in the local media and, just like that, Tommy and I became the Number One gay power couple and flag bearers in Alcantara (the term “power couple” hadn’t become common currency yet, but that’s definitely who and what we were). He took it in his stride, as he did most things that came his way. I was the one who found all the publicity a bit hard to get used to. Once the office was up and running, it was time to go house-hunting. I don’t know much about the various theories of prevision, but I know that we went to visit one house high up on the west side of the harbour, and as soon as we walked in I recognized it as the house I’d seen in my dream the year before. We bought it the next day. We then set to work on renovations, of which the largest was the major expansion of the relatively small deck and tiny little plunge pool out the back. That simply wasn’t good enough for two dedicated swimmers, and within a year we had a huge, paved terrace, partly covered by a projecting roof, a generously-sized pool, and an eight-person hot tub that together made outdoor living in all seasons a pleasure. Of course, being tropical, Alcantara had only two seasons: Wet and Dry. But even the wet season wasn’t bad at all, since the rain usually came on later in the afternoon and we were both born early risers. Within a couple of years, we had become fixtures on the local scene. People waved and called out greetings on the streets, which was not actually that uncommon in Alcantara, but it still surprised me how many people knew exactly who we were. Tommy had been offered a permanent position on the tenure track, which he would not likely have gotten at any established school at such a young age. The University of Alcantara, being brand-new, was anxious to build up a competent faculty. The condition was that he had to finish his PhD before he could be tenured. We had a long talk about that, and the long and the short of it was that he would have to return to his school in Toronto for a while, finish off some additional research, complete the writing of his thesis, and then defend the thesis. He was likely going to be away for half a year at least. Neither of us were very happy about that, but it was a job that had to be done. Before he left, we had a long talk about what we would do while we were apart, and especially about what we would do if we had the opportunity to have sex with other guys while we were separated. We finally agreed that it was likely to happen, and that we should go ahead with no guilt feelings – but that using condoms was an absolute must in each case. We parted reluctantly, with some of the longest kisses on record as we said goodbye, and then he was off and on his way to the airport, and I was returning home to – yet again – a depressingly empty house. We talked on the phone several times weekly, and I was still hoping to be able to get away for a few days to go up and visit – but the office was so damned busy that trying to escape seemed harder than ever. And then, one night at around the three-month mark of Tommy’s absence, it happened. A handsome young guy with a mass of curly blond hair perched on a bar stool near me at Aquarius and struck up a conversation. His name was Mikael, and he was here for a job interview with the government. He didn’t specify what job he was being interviewed for but hinted that it could make his career. He was a nice guy, with a friendly manner and (as I could see through his clothes) a good body, and I was enjoying the company. At last, though, I called for his bill and mine, and paid them both off. As we walked out together, he thanked me, and then asked, in a sultry voice, if there was anything he could do to make it up to me. From there, it was only a minute before I had agreed to go to his hotel room. Mikael was a total bottom, and that suited my mood. We made out for some time, undressing each other with a little haste, and then I went to work on his pretty, round ass with tongue and fingers. Before long, I mounted him from behind, pressing my way inside his ass and fucking him with a good deal of energy. My itch needed to be scratched in the worst way. It wasn’t until after I’d given him a deep, vigorous pounding and cum inside him that I withdrew – and found that the condom had burst so that I’d filled him up without meaning or wanting to do so. It was two months later that I met him again, and then in a very unexpected way. As part of another case I was working on for the government, I was called to a meeting with the then Premier and the Minister of Transportation and Communications at the office of the newly-elected President, Desmond Flowers. I gave my name to the receptionist when I arrived, and she said, “The President’s Executive Assistant will be here in a minute to take you back.” When the assistant arrived, it was Mikael. I recovered from the surprise quickly and greeted him conventionally and we walked down the hall, through the suite of offices to the President’s conference room. After the meeting, when the receptionist was out of earshot, he quietly invited me to meet him at his apartment and slipped me a card with his address. I agreed to go that night at 8:00 pm. Before we did anything else, I told him that this would be the last time I would meet him as my partner would be returning in a week. I also told him what Tommy and I had agreed on, so he would know it was all above board. Once again, I gave him a really thorough fucking. This time, though, when I felt the condom pop, I pulled out at once and finished off by hand, squirting across his back. That was when I realized that Mikael had probably tampered with the condoms in some way. No question about one thing, though. He was a good fuck, a good bottom, with a nice body and a good tight hole – but the magic which I always felt without fail with Tommy just wasn’t there at all. I didn’t need to tell Mikael that and maybe hurt his feelings. It’s just a pity that I hadn’t been a bit more observant in his bedroom. Tommy and I had a joyous reunion. He flew in on Friday afternoon, arriving at the house at 7:00 pm to find that I had a dinner all prepared, in the crock pot. I had every intention of having my way with him as soon as possible. I’d gone to the doctor for a test, “just in case,” after the first time I’d fucked Mikael, and it was all clear. I had repeated the test before Tommy came home, and again all was well. Best of all, Tommy had eaten on the flight and was perfectly agreeable to having our dinner later than usual. We got through half a glass of wine each before we locked mouths, moved sideways into the bedroom, still kissing, and proceeded to undress ourselves without bothering to stop kissing. The first wild round of sex saw each of us blowing a load inside the other’s ass, and it happened far faster than usual. We were so turned on to be together again that we got through two fucks and two enormous cum loads in barely twenty minutes. I don’t think I’d ever been that fast, even as a horny-beyond-belief teenager. By that time it was all but full dark outside, so we dashed out and leaped into the pool with nothing on, frolicking happily in the water, splashing each other, kissing each other, and quite a bit of groping each other. Both of us were still fully erect – at least, until the flashlight played over us and a voice with the full Majestic Authority of the Law demanded, “All right, what’s going on here?” I gave him my name, and explained that my life partner, Tommy, had just come home after a prolonged absence, and we were making up for lost time. He chuckled, and said, “We had a phone call of complaint from a neighbour down the road. How they could see anything this time of night, I don’t know. Probably got one of those infrared scopes. Just cover yourselves when you get out, and don’t try it again without suits on.” I thanked him, he withdrew, and Tommy and I scrambled out, holding a hand each over our now-shrunken cocks as we dashed into the house. As we went I glanced to the left and saw Mrs. Ironwood, three houses away, looking at us disgustedly. Inside, I told Tommy what I’d seen and we dissolved into helpless laughter. We then threw on some clothes and poured some more wine before finally sitting down to the Caribbean hotpot which I had cooked up. After all that energetic activity, it definitely hit the spot. Once we’d cleaned up from dinner, we headed right back to bed, making love less energetically but no less passionately until nearly midnight, when we drifted off to sleep, safely in each other’s arms once again. With Tommy back home, officially placing the letters “PhD” after his name, and taking up his full-time tenured position, we both felt completely established. One other step was needed, and that came when Tommy announced that, like me, he wished to acquire Alcantaran citizenship. On the strength of his relationship with me, he was granted an unusual exemption to be allowed to retain his Canadian citizenship as well. We had definitely put down roots in our new homeland. About six months after Tommy’s citizenship ceremony, I got a call from Benita asking to speak to both of us on a business matter. We invited her for dinner, and Grigor too, but she came without him, which surprised me. After we’d savoured Tommy’s lightly spiced chicken a la king (in homemade puff pastry shells, no less), she came to the point of the visit. “I’ve decided that I’m going to run for the Assembly, for the Social Democrats. My work has given me a unique perspective on the challenges that Alcantara faces with all this massive growth going on. I think I can bring some much-needed wisdom to the table, especially as we will certainly have to re-arrange the seat distribution in the Assembly soon, and then create a number of new seats to make it all work. Rich, I wanted to ask you if you would take on the management of my campaign. And Tommy, I needed to make sure you were also on board if he chooses to do so.” My instinctive reaction was that I would like nothing better than to help Benita realize her ambition, but I knew that I couldn’t do it. I knew she would have to resign her government job to run. My firm had just taken on two big cases for the government, and I couldn’t help her on the election without creating a massive conflict of interest. “I’m sorry, Benita. I’d really love to help you, but I can’t.” I explained the situation to her, and she nodded her understanding. I was truly sorry to let her down and said so. Benita, though, never remained down for long. It was her style to always keep moving forward, through all the twists and turns in the road, and my inability to help certainly would cause no harm to our friendship. I wasn’t at all surprised, but truly delighted when she won her seat by a landslide, winning more votes than her three opponents together (Progressive Labour, People’s Party, and Conservadores). She was one of a group of four new, younger members who were elected by the Social Democrats, and experts all felt it was a forecast of the larger results at the next election, since the incumbent Progressive Labour government was getting too cozy in the seats of power. As it turned out, things didn’t quite pan out that way. The next election came unexpectedly quickly, after less than two years, when a major financial scandal caused a mass exodus from the Progressive Labour caucus, the defeat of the government, and the resignation of the Premier. However, the governing party managed to nominate new candidates in all seats, select a new leader, and eked out another slim majority win at the polls. The demoralized leader of the Social Democrats, now a 3-time loser, resigned in his concession speech on election night. And Benita came calling again. This time, she’d decided to run for the party leadership. I might still have government cases on my docket, but this was a job I could do. I plunged wholeheartedly into organizing her campaign, and Tommy (somewhat to my surprise) contributed hours of his time as well. We lined up a small but tight staff group, produced position papers and speech outlines (just outlines, heaven help the backroom boy who tried to give the supremely articulate Benita a pre-written speech!), and lobbied endlessly and intensively. When the leadership votes were counted, Benita won a decisive victory on the first ballot, shocking the old-line party greybeards. Through the next four years in opposition, Benita made a habit of running rings around the leader and members of the governing party, repeatedly skewering the weaknesses in their policies as decisively as she had speared the corporate arguments in that case in Canada when I first met her. Tommy said to me once, as we watched her in action on the news, “You know she’s going to be the next Premier.” I nodded. “And when she runs again, she’s going to ask you to run as well so she can put you into her Cabinet.” “You think?” I replied ironically. But Tommy, for once, was dead serious. “Yes. She is. And you’ll do it. And I’ll have to be a politician’s wife.” We both laughed at that, but by now I had a healthy respect for Tommy’s ability to read me. And sure enough, it all panned out exactly as he had predicted. During her years in opposition, the government had undertaken the necessary changes to the composition of the Assembly. The legwork of actually doing it had been handed to a non-partisan commission, with professional statisticians and surveyors to make sure it was done properly and clearly. When the time came for the election, I successfully secured the party’s nomination for the Greenhills seat, one of six new seats created on the island of Alcantara. It included the street where we lived. Two new seats were added on Serafina, and two on Isabella, reflecting the larger permanent populations on those islands. Tommy became my campaign manager. I had taken a year’s leave of absence from my job to avoid any suspicion of conflict of interest. When asked in an all-candidates meeting, I immediately declared that if I won the seat, I would instantly resign outright from the law firm. I had very clear ideas about the importance of well-planned development, especially in the semi-rurals area outside the centre of Portavedra, and about the need for clearer legislation on a number of the social issues which development brought in its wake. When the votes were counted on election night, 2009, I won my seat by a clear majority, while the Social Democrats under Benita swept the board, winning all but 4 of the 31 assembly seats. My partners at law, and the staff in Alcantara, accepted my resignation with genuine regret. And, exactly as Tommy predicted, Benita called me the next day. After I had offered her my congratulations, she immediately said, “Now, Rich, congratulations right back at you. Not just for winning Greenhills. I would like to invite you to serve in my Cabinet as Minister of Justice.” “I would be honoured.” “Hey, Rich, let me finish, will you?” Benita was never one to stand overlong on her dignity. “As I was going to say when somebody interrupted me, Minister of Justice -- and Deputy Premier.” “Thank you, Benita. As I said, I would be honoured. But, and I’m sure you’ll understand, I need to talk to Tommy before I can give you a decision.” “Of course, Rich. Can you let me know by, let’s say, Thursday?” It was Tuesday. “Of course, I’ll talk about it with him tonight.” Tommy didn’t waste any time beating around the bush. When he walked in the door from work, his first words (in a very arch tone) were, “Get any interesting calls from any lady friends today?” Of course I laughed. And then I filled him in on the situation. His reply was absolutely typical. “Rich, I know this is what you want to do. And I knew it would happen when I agreed to run your campaign. No need for you to worry, I’m behind you 110% of the way.” I took some time out to kiss him happily, to run through the day’s events over dinner, and to enjoy a relaxing evening in bed, watching a movie on TV. Okay, we didn’t spend much time actually watching the movie, because the live action there in the bedroom was so much more interesting than a synthetic love scene between a couple of disinterested actors mouthing formulaic lines. The new Premier and Cabinet were sworn in by President Flowers the next Monday morning, followed by the traditional formal photograph and luncheon at the official Presidential mansion. The President was at his benign, patriarchal best that day. He’d been a leading figure in Alcantaran electoral politics for two decades, rising to become a successful premier for two terms. After he’d retired from the legislative sphere, he had won election as the President, the ceremonial figurehead of government. Since that time, his party – the Conservadores – had been steadily dropping in popularity, but his own personal popularity as an elder statesman ensured that he had continued to win re-election to this dignified post. Two days after the swearing-in, I got a call from his secretary to set an appointment for the Friday morning. At that meeting, he was a different man altogether. The gloves were off. “Sit down, Mr. Dunnatore. I have something here which I think will be of interest to you.” He switched off the lights and powered up the TV and the DVD player. What appeared on the screen was a hot gay fuck scene. At least, it was hot until I heard the voices and realized it was a clear-as-day video of me fucking Mikael. Faces, voices, everything about it was totally exposed to the all-seeing eyes of the universe. My instant reaction was fury at that goof Mikael for filming us without telling me. Then I went through equal anger at myself for not being alert to the presence of a camera, and – as a side thought – wondering what Carlo would say if he saw this. Of course, Flowers was watching me closely and saw all those emotions playing across my face. There was no point in denying the validity of the recording. I had confessed as clearly as if I had said the words aloud. He switched off the TV and turned the lights back on. “I’ll spare you any further embarrassment – for now. The question is, what are you going to do about it? I’m sure you wouldn’t want your boyfriend (he spat the word out) to have to see this.” “He might enjoy it. I already told him all about me and Mikael.” Flowers drummed his fingers on the desk. “That’s not my major concern, and it shouldn’t be yours either. He might not care, but a large percentage of voters probably would. Not having lived in this country as long as I have, you might not realize entirely just how many of the votes the Social Dems received were what might be classified as ‘protest votes’ – in other words, votes that you can’t necessarily count on winning again. Also, there’s the question of how many old-time Alcantarans might find your lifestyle, ah, objectionable.” He was wrong. I was aware of these fine distinctions. Unlike him, I had campaigned extensively door to door. “Now, Mr. Dunnatore, if you are a wise man, and I think you are, here is what you are going to do. With some help from you and Mikael, we are going to set up a new interviewing process. I have several retirements coming up in my staff over the next few years, and those vacancies are mine to fill. I’ve already spoken to Mikael about his role in this process. “Mikael’s role is to conduct preliminary screening interviews with all candidates. He will then take selected candidates through a further interview process, similar to the one you just saw on the screen. If they pass his approval, they will then be referred to you. You will likewise interview them, and in exactly the same manner as you did with Mikael. Once you have interviewed and approved them, they will be sent on to me for my final approval, and then appointed to specific positions on my staff with certain, ah, added responsibilities. All interviews are to take place in your office, and on scheduled office time.” I was almost in shock at his audacity. But I quickly rallied – or tried to. “And if I refuse to participate in this flagrantly illegal scheme?” He smiled benignly. “I think you would shortly get a call from the Premier, demanding your resignation after she’d seen a certain video recording making the rounds on the internet – with names.” I knew that I was trapped. “I’ll have to think about this.” “Don’t take too long to think. Mikael will be conducting his first interviews next week. He already knows exactly what the expectations are, and what will happen to him if he doesn’t proceed according to plan. I’ll expect your answer no later than Monday morning.” He stood up and nodded in dismissal.

I'm getting dizzy, trying to remember who is getting into bed with whom, and now we have yet another new character coming in with a serious case of the hots for Franco. On the public side, nice to see Max taking the lead in encouraging public interaction with the family.

Chapter 5 Hit Self-Destruct and Reset At home, Rich didn’t sit still to do his thinking as many people would; he fired up his laptop and opened the file with the memoir that he had begun on the weekend. The real answer to his quandary lay in the part of his mind that was dredging up and recording his memories, and the way to find it, as with the way to find himself, lay through his writing. Setting up a new chapter heading, he began. ******************** After Carlo had left and I was alone in the apartment, I had a breakdown. Some people might have yelled or screamed, gotten roaring drunk, or gone nuts on drugs. I went crazy for sex. Within an hour after he’d left, I’d gotten showered and douched, and was dressed and ready to go out and get myself royally fucked. It seemed appropriate, since I’d already fucked myself over, to go and get someone else to finish the job. What if I ran into Carlo? I was half-hoping I would, especially if I’d already connected with someone else. That would show him. What the hell? There was no logic in thinking that way, but I wasn’t thinking. My calm, reasonable side was now totally disconnected and I was running on pure, raw, negative emotional energy. In that state of mind, it didn’t take long for me to find a willing guy. Wearing a super-tight pair of shorts that showed off my ass muscles didn’t do any harm either. Almost as soon as I walked into the club, I got swarmed, and within half an hour I was leaving with a guy named (I think) Andre. He was big, muscular, broad-shouldered, and had a massive bulge in the front of his shorts. Maybe I was subconsciously hoping that a big enough pain in my ass might help to distract me from the horrendous ache in my heart. Well, I got the pain in my ass all right. Andre was not a considerate fucker. He was all alpha top, knew what he wanted, and helped himself right away. He had his whole thick ten inches up inside me in no time flat, despite – or perhaps because of – my cries and screams of pain. I’d have called it rape, except that I was getting exactly what I wanted, what I felt I deserved. One other thing I was getting, though, which I hadn’t banked on – I found out after he’d fucked me hard, cum twice, and then left. That’s when I felt something dripping out of my hole, and worried that it might be blood – he’d sure fucked me hard enough to rip me. But it wasn’t. That big beast had fucked me bareback and shot two loads inside my ass without a rubber, fucking me raw, and after I’d told him to use a condom. I’d been bred like any slut in the streets, just like Carlo in fact, and I couldn’t deny that I’d loved it, and wanted more. My descent into hell was over. All the way down. Now I was just as bad as Carlo was, and a hypocrite to boot for doing exactly what had made me throw him out. I repeated the pattern every night for a well over a week. By day, I was running on autopilot, going through the motions at school, getting all the right answers, but personally disconnected from it all. By night, I was out on the prowl, picking up a different top – or two, or more – each night and getting fucked and bred repeatedly. My ass was sore as hell after the first few nights, and still I kept at it. Looking back, I guess I was punishing myself by getting other men to punish me. I couldn’t tell you how many loads I took during that bleak time. Dozens, probably. It didn’t matter to me who I got with, how dubious they looked, how dangerous they acted, as long as they had a dick and would fuck me raw. It was a miracle that I didn’t get robbed – or worse. Finally, my ass did get ripped, badly, and I had to stop. A couple of Fridays later, just as I was about ready to start playing the open-to-all fuckhole again, my friend Fred ran me down in the library, and asked me to go have a coffee with him. I demurred, but he was so insistent that I finally agreed to go with him, just to shut him up. After we were seated in the café with our cups in front of us, he started in on me. Quietly, so as not to be overheard, but he ripped me a new one verbally just as Andre and all the others had done to me physically. “Rick, what the hell are you doing to yourself?” “What do you mean, Fred?” “Don’t play the innocent, Rick. The guys at the bar were all telling me that you’re now the A-Number-One slut in town, taking multiple loads in your ass, without a rubber, from any and all cummers. Have you gone mad?” “Did you hear what happened to me a few weeks back?” “Yeah, I heard. Your hot Italian boyfriend turned out to be a big stud bareback porn slut and you threw him out. Does that mean you have to follow suit?” And much more along the same lines. The more I tried to explain what I was doing, the more he shot holes right through my every argument. And I knew that I was being a fool. But the urge to punish myself was too strong. That night, as dusk fell and I was preparing to go out hunting for dick again, the phone rang. I answered, and it was my mother. I was about to say that I was just heading out and was late, but something in the sound of her voice restrained me -- thank God. “Ricky, honey, can you come home? I need you here badly.” “Mom, what’s wrong? What’s happened?” I heard a distinct sob, and a couple of sniffles. “I just got a call from your grandmother, in Alcantara. Your grandfather is dead.” Her father. Dead. And I knew that I had to get home, and fast. She’d always supported me, and this was the very least I could do. “Okay, Mom. I just need to throw some things in a bag and then see if I can get a seat on the red-eye tonight.” “Ricky, I need to see my mother, and your father can’t get away before Wednesday. Can you take me?” Back to Alcantara. I didn’t hesitate. Maybe I sensed that Alcantara was where I needed to be myself, to break the cycle of self-hate in which I was trapped. “Of course, Mom. I’ll check, I think there’s a flight on Sunday morning to Puerta Escapada that connects with the ferry over.” Alcantara didn’t have an airport yet and travel depended on the ferry from the mainland. “Thank you, Ricky. I’m so grateful.” “Give me thirty minutes to check with the airline, and then I’ll call you back.” “I’ll be here. I’m not feeling at all sleepy yet. Your dad is sitting up with me.” She sniffled and sobbed again. Friday night was a good night to call for reservations. No one else was planning travel at that hour except people with emergencies. The telephone agent was sympathetic and helpful once I’d explained the situation, and soon had everything reserved. She forwarded the file to the airport office with a note to prepare the tickets, and then I was all set. I called my mother back, told her I would see her in the morning, and to be ready to travel on Sunday, and then started packing. I called and left a message with my academic advisor, telling her what I was doing and that I wouldn’t be back for a week. In my mood, sitting sleepless on a red-eye flight to Toronto wasn’t precisely what the doctor ordered, and yet I could feel myself starting to come out of the black funk that had possessed me ever since I’d thrown Carlo out. Hugging my mother and sitting down to talk with her about my grandfather helped too. So did the long trip to Alcantara, complete with a change of planes in Miami and the tedious and bumpy 4-hour ferry ride from Puerta Escapada across to the islands and the harbour of Portavedra. It was strange, being back in the place that had been so much fun when I was little. I hadn’t been back since my high school days, and it felt a bit like time travel since nothing in Alcantara ever seemed to change. I found that I was so surrounded by happy memories that I simply couldn’t hate myself there. It felt good, too, to be supporting my mother and my grandfather, to feel needed, to be doing something useful for other humans in crisis. I’d never have guessed this when I was a kid, but after even such a short stay, I knew that Alcantara, with all its memories of a simpler time in my life, had become a place of healing and wholeness for me. By the time my father arrived four days later, I had gotten over myself and my crisis and was ready to go back and pick up the pieces – to “get on with it,” as my father said, little suspecting just how big “it” had become. Back in Vancouver, I had to scramble to get back up to speed at school. I also had to explain to Doctor Brennan what I had been doing, get a huge lecture from him about my idiotic behaviour (I deserved that, too), and get tested quickly and repeatedly. Somehow, God knows how, I had gotten lucky and dodged HIV and all the other nasties. Somehow, too, I managed to get myself caught up enough to complete the first year of law studies successfully and continue to move forward. During the summer, I alternated the lifeguard stand with several days a week of volunteer work in a community legal aid clinic. That was an eye-opening experience, putting me into direct contact with the legal problems and issues that beset people at the bottom of the economic ladder. I learned so much about human nature and about social and economic inequity from that clinic, really too much for my own comfort (given my own comfortable level of personal wealth), and those lessons never left me. In the fall, it was back to school. I’d now mastered the art of getting down to the key point in every case, every discussion, every legal analysis, and was no longer overwhelmed with work. In fact, I was now much more mature, ready in every way to balance schoolwork with a relationship. Except, no surprise, I no longer wanted a relationship. I had done a complete 180-degree turn from my foolish fling after Carlo’s departure and had become celibate. That whole episode had burned me so badly, on so many levels, that I isolated myself from men. My hand became good enough company when I needed to scratch that itch. Two months after school started, I got another phone call from home. This time my mother was almost in hysterics, and it took a couple of minutes before I got her calmed down enough to tell me that my father had been killed in a car accident. When I got to Toronto this time, I quickly discovered out that my father had appointed me his executor, and that his estate was huge, complex, and a very daunting prospect all around. The first task was to organize the funeral, to be held on the next Saturday, and that was enough of an ordeal on its own. My father being the sort of figure of importance that he was, his business associates far outnumbered family and social friends. To accommodate everyone, the service had to be held in the cathedral, and the reception in a private club that my father had joined the previous year. My right hand felt positively limp and wrung out after shaking hundreds of hands, most of them twice (arriving and leaving), and I wondered how celebrities, actors, and musicians could do this over and over. Once was enough for me. The end of the reception was an ending in another way, as well. I’d had a difficult relationship with my father, and although he had tried to support me in my ambition to live openly as a gay man, he had plainly found it tough to come to terms with my reality. That attitude in turn had erected an invisible barrier between us which neither he nor I had been able, or willing, to break down. While I appreciated all he had done for me throughout my life, it was hard to escape a sense of relief that he was gone. Add to that my pleasure in finding out that Chloe and I each received a quarter of his estate outright (the rest went to my mother), and my equally pleased surprise that he had entrusted me with sole responsibility as executor of his will. It may sound odd, but in some ways this was the first time I had ever felt like a man. As the scale of the work to be done with Dad’s will sank in, I knew that I would have to take a year off from law school. I called the law faculty, talked my way through to the Dean, and explained the whole situation. He willingly agreed to simply take me off the register for the year, refund my fees for the remaining months, and defer me until the following September with no academic penalty. I had to travel back to Vancouver to get more clothes and things for an extended stay in Toronto, and to arrange for a neighbour to keep an eye on my apartment and water my plants. And then I moved back home. After everything I had been through, living in my old room at home was a strange feeling, but my mother did everything she could to make me feel more comfortable. She told me that it was okay with her if I wanted to have friends come and stay overnight, even laughing a bit for the first time as she said that my father wouldn’t necessarily have agreed with her. The laugh was a bit forced, and soon enough she was wiping her eyes again, but it was a start for her. It was also strange, but somehow comforting, to be back in the same swimming pool where I had first learned the basic techniques and strokes, doing my workouts again. That daily routine was something I badly needed to give my life some structure and order in these strange circumstances. One day, I finished and climbed out just as the kids in the swim club were tumbling in for their daily workout and practice. That’s when I noticed that their new coach was unmistakably the same guy I had drooled over when I was a skinny, pimply kid, just beginning to realize I was attracted to guys, and he was the hunky teenaged lifeguard supervising us. I couldn’t deny that he had grown up just as much as I had, and the combination of a big dick and muscled ass in his speedo, and the dusting of salt and pepper in his hair, really turned my crank. The task of sorting out the estate took months and was every bit as tedious and mind-boggling as I had feared, but it also gave me a chance to make valuable contacts in Toronto. One was a young accountant at the firm that handled my father’s financial affairs. This was none other than my first fuck buddy, Derikk Maddeson, who was now a junior employee in the firm. After a couple of business meetings, we went for lunch together one day. We laughed ruefully at the clumsiness of our encounters all those years ago, caught each other up on our respective lives, and generally settled into what became a rewarding friendship – but not friends with benefits. He now had a solid relationship with another swimmer whom he’d met in college. I met his partner, Aaron, a couple of weeks later over some after-work Friday drinks before they went out to a show. Another story altogether came on my third or fourth visit to the lawyer’s offices, when I met a young intern, a Japanese man who was pursuing a degree in international law in Canada. Hiroshi (I never could pronounce his last name and he laughed when I tried) was a classically slim Japanese man with dark hair and eyes, and a solemn look that could dissolve into a glowing smile. He had a way of slipping a little ironic or amusing dig into almost any conversation, no matter how serious. For the first time in nearly a year, I found myself feeling attracted to another man. Hiroshi seemed to return my interest. At last, after a couple more business meetings, I took my courage in hand and asked him for a date on Friday. We had a fascinating time finding out about each other over dinner. One thing that made us both laugh was when he said that he had come from Vancouver to attend law school in Toronto, basically to get out from under his family’s eagle eyes. This, of course, was the exact mirror image of my decision to move west. I quickly learned that, out of the office setting, he had a ready sense of humour, and the banter flowed freely between us. When we finished eating, he invited me back to his place “for one more drink” and things unfolded pretty predictably at that point. Hiroshi was about as experienced as I had been when I first went to Vancouver, so there I was, at the ripe old age of 26, teaching another man everything the well-educated gay guy ought to know. I was bemused at the ironic fact that I was playing the exact role Carlo had earlier played with me. Hiroshi was a fantastic student, though, picking everything up really quickly from his slightly-older mentor. To start with, I showed him the pleasure that could be experienced by slowly undressing your partner while he undresses you, in between rounds of kissing and stroking and touching and caressing. I then slowly kissed my way down his chest, paying due attention to both nipples (which he loved), and teasing him by bypassing his cock and going for his balls first. After giving both of those the full treatment, I came back up to his shaft and licked slowly up towards the head. The precum was already oozing out as I skinned back the foreskin, releasing the head. Before long, I had licked it all up, and then just went for it and plunged my head down on his dick. Hiroshi cried out as I sucked him down. Despite being out of practice for months, it took me only a few strokes to get all the way down, sucking his whole long tool into my mouth and throat. The inarticulate cries coming from above me and the way his thighs were trembling and quivering made it plain that his fuse had been lit and he was about to explode. I sucked harder, and got my reward when his cock exploded, blowing a massive wad of cum into my mouth. I pulled back a bit, wanting to keep it up front. When the trembling and convulsions abated, I stood and began kissing him, pushing his mouth open as I did so I could share his cum load with him. We kept kissing, pushing the cum back and forth between us, until finally we had swallowed it all. At last I let up, stepped back a bit, and looked at him. “My god, Rick, that was amazing. I’m sorry I came so fast, but no one’s ever made me cum like that before!” “Oh, that was just Act One. This is going to get a whole lot hotter before we’re done.” How little I knew. I let him take my hand and lead me to the bed, and we lay down there together. Act Two began with my making love to Hiroshi’s ass with my mouth and tongue and fingers, prying his tight cheeks apart and working my way slowly inward. I wanted him to feel everything I could do to him and hoped he would remember it all to use on me later (as it turned out, he was bottom only, which was a pity, but I could live with it). In time, I got his hole as loosened up as his vocal cords, the one quivering and flexing, the other moaning and sighing and regularly uttering “oh, fuck!” It was time. I pushed my cock into the crack and slowly began pressing against his hole. He was ready, and his hole practically sucked me into him. As I slid deeper, he moaned louder and his body twisted around on the bed like a snake. Eventually I hit the bottom, with my hips pressed tightly against his slender ass, and my entire body lying along his back, from our intertwined legs to my arms which I wrapped around his slim shoulders. And then I began moving. Slowly and carefully, I rose up and pushed back down, lifting my cock out of his ass and then pushing back down into him. I repeated this five or six more times while he moaned and sighed under me, and then he said it. “Harder, Rick!” I began speeding up. “Come on, Rick, give it to me!” I speeded up some more. “Is that all you’ve got? Fucking POUND ME!!!” I pounded him. Much to my surprise, the normally quiet and reserved Hiroshi turned out to be a totally insatiable wild man in bed – what today would certainly be called a “power bottom.” I began pounding him with all I had, my trained and toned swimmer’s body straining every muscle and sinew to drive as deep and hard as I could into his tight little butt, and still he kept telling me to “hit me harder, dammit! Come on, stud, drive that thing into me like you mean it. FUCK MEEEE!!!!” I did my best to give him the ride of a lifetime, and still he kept urging me on to give him more, more. Suddenly, I felt something give, the pressure on my cockhead reduced, and I knew the condom had broken. “Dammit, the rubber just broke.” “Fuck that, just keep pounding me. I want that dick and I want you to cum in me. Fill me up, stud!” That did it. The combination of the sudden liberated feeling, the intimate stroking of my dick by his guts, the powerful driving force of my fucking, and his slutty voice egging me on, it was more than I could take and my cock suddenly convulsed and erupted inside his ass as he clamped down on me again and again. “Holy shit, that was awesome!” Tired out from my exertion, I was about to pull out, but Hiroshi had other ideas. “No, don’t stop. Keep fucking me with that big stud dick and give me another shot!” Wow. This guy really was insatiable. But I pulled out anyway, tossing away the useless wreck of the condom as I did. I needed a change of position. I lay down on my back with my rigid dick pointing up into the air, and barked, “Get on there and ride me!” He was just as crazy a cowgirl as he was a supine fucktoy. He sat right down on my dick, all the way, and then began heaving up and down on my shaft like a see-saw gone insane. Somehow, he was managing to flex his hole on each stroke, opening it as he plunged down, and then compressing to suck on my meat as he pulled back up. I was quickly learning that these Asian men might be slender but they had muscles made out of piano wire and endurance that made me look like a lazy slug by comparison. Hiroshi fucked himself halfway to heaven on my big hard cock, slamming himself onto it harder and harder until he finally sucked a second load out of me, filling his guts to overflowing, and yanking a huge load out of himself as he came at the same time. It was the first time I’d fucked anyone bareback since Carlo and was absolutely the wildest sex I’d ever had in my life. When I finally recovered my breath, I asked him the foremost question in my mind. “Do you let all the boys cum inside you?” His laconic reply startled me again. “No. And don’t worry, I just got my latest test results and I’m clear.” “Then why…?” “Because you already told me you were cleared after your messy breakup, and that you hadn’t been with anyone since. I wanted to know how it felt.” “And…?” “Amazing. Incredible. One hundred and ten percent. You’re the first man I’ve ever let cum inside me.” Hiroshi and I dated long enough for my mother to notice, even amid her sadness and preoccupation, that I was spending more evenings and nights out than at home. She even asked when she was going to meet my boyfriend, but I just laughed and shook my head. I definitely liked him, but something held me back. It wasn’t just the lingering residue and sour taste from Carlo, either – although I had told Hiroshi all about that. But Hiroshi kept laying so much stress on his strongly traditional family back west, and I smelled trouble. I was right. After we’d been dating for three or four months, he called me one day when I’d barely gotten home from seeing him at the office about an hour earlier. Right away, I could tell he was in distress, and I threw my mother an apology and headed right back out. When I got to his place, he was sitting on the sofa, in a state of shock, holding a tear-stained and half-crumpled letter. He thrust it at me to read, but it was all in Japanese characters. I held him through another burst of tears and then calmed him down enough to read it and translate it for me. In the letter, his father stated that he was suffering from cancer of the bowel, had only a few months to live, and asked Hiroshi to return to Vancouver to look after his mother and younger sister. The letter also asked him to marry “to keep the family name strong.” Once again, I was struck by the parallel, the ways in which his situation looked so much like mine seen in reverse, but now with an extra twist – that his looked like life viewed through the wrong end of a telescope, diminished, distant, like something out of a historic novel. And I knew he would do as his father had asked. The traditional respect for elders ran strong in him. I finally persuaded him to eat something and heated up some soup from his fridge. Then we went to bed, but not for sex. I held him and comforted him as best I could, until he fell asleep. In the morning, we both awoke early. He looked me in the eyes and said, “I’m going to pack tonight, reserve a flight, and leave for Vancouver tomorrow morning. Before I go, Rick, please make love to me. It’s how I want to remember you. Nobody has ever made me feel the way you do. I love you, and I will always love you.” I wanted to cry myself, but I didn’t. That was pointless. I could read the determination etched in his face to do the right thing by his parents and family, and nothing I could say or do would sway him. So, instead, I did as he asked, and for one last time I used my fingers and tongue to make love to every inch of his body -- before I slid inside his beautiful ass and did everything I could to give him the farewell gift he’d asked for, riding him like a maniac one last time and then slurping my cum back out of his ass to share with him in a last round of snowball kisses. I knew in those final moments that I loved him, too, but I couldn’t say it, couldn’t make a cheap attempt to hold him back. If there was one thing that the whole horror show with Carlo had taught me, it was that there were times when I had to put the man I loved ahead of myself in my priorities. After I fucked the cum out of him, and came myself moments later, after I’d shared all that cum with him, I held him close, nuzzling and kissing him as the tears ran down both our faces. Our time together had been short, it had been sweet, and now it was over. I got up, showered, dressed, and left with one final, lingering goodbye kiss. I never saw him again. ******************** Rich closed his computer with a monumental sigh. What was this memoir teaching him about himself? The big lesson was that he could look in the mirror without flinching. He’d made mistakes, as everyone does, but he had learned to make himself live as a fundamentally decent person. If there was anything troubling him about the way his life had unfolded in Alcantara for the last decade, and about his relationship with Tommy, it was the conflict between his actions and his ethics. It was the actions that needed amending. His ethical roots were strong. He looked at the clock. It was too soon for Tommy to be home, but he wanted a drink. Into the kitchen he went, mixing himself a gin and tonic with lime, and then came back to his desk and sipped it, still musing over the life had had lived and what it all meant. As he pondered this, his confidential work phone rang. He picked up. “Hi, Rich, it’s me. I have to make this fast before someone hears me. Listen, we’re in trouble. He’s onto us. Someone ratted. You’d better get a really good cover-your-ass story ready before you see him again.” Then the click as the phone disconnected.

Wow, that was a hot chapter, with two wild scenes. I almost ran out of fingers to count off who fucked whom, and in what order. Definitely getting excited for what is coming, with Max getting permission to pop the question, then planning the trip and going shopping for "you know." Now I'm all curious as to what the king has up his sleeve and what exactly Sovereign Statute 10.5 has to say!

Chapter 4 Reality Check As Rich slowly emerged from his self-imposed return visit to the most miserable time of his entire life, Tommy was right there, waiting for him with a cappuccino. Rich took it, sipped at it gratefully, then pushed his chair back and heaved a massive sigh – of exhaustion, of relief, of emotional overload. “Thank God I made it through that part. Tommy, that time when I broke up with Carlo was the bottom of the hole for me, the black night of my soul.” Tommy gazed at him, his sad eyes laden with profound concern and worry. “Rich, I hate to see you putting yourself through the meat grinder like this – and for what? Is it really that important?” “Tommy, I got on my high horse with Carlo and threw him out for his lack of integrity, his lack of honesty. Now, I look at myself, at what politics is doing to me, and I feel like I’m becoming what I once despised so brutally. If I’m ever going to be able to keep looking at myself in the mirror, I need to be at least honest with myself, if not with the world. That’s what this is really about.” Tommy moved close and folded him in a tight hug. He could feel Rich quivering. “Let it out, Rich. Let it all go, love. I’m right here with you.” And Rich erupted in heart-wrenching sobs. Tommy held him close, stroking him gently, making soothing noises, letting him know he was loved as all the tension, all the anger, all the self-loathing, poured out of him in a torrent of tears. At last, the emotional nerve-storm played itself out, and Rich lifted his head off Tommy’s shoulder, looking rather ashamed of himself. “Thank you, Tommy. Sorry for letting go like that.” “Oh, Rich, that is so Canadian of you -- apologizing for having feelings and emotions! Guess what, it’s not unique to you, either to have them or to bottle them up inside -- but getting it all out is far healthier. How do you feel right now?” “Kind of… I don’t know, sort of cleansed.” “It’s called ‘catharsis.’ What you just had is a cathartic experience. Maybe this memoir idea was a good thing, if you’re carrying that much emotional baggage around and this writing helps you to drop it off and lose it. Hey, change of subject. What do you say we skip eating in tonight and go out for dinner, head downtown and go to Aquarius?” Rich finally smiled. “That sounds great. And I know it seems inadequate but thank you for caring for me and pulling me out of the whirlpool.” Tommy laughed. “And there you go, apologizing again with your ‘it seems inadequate.’ Ye gods above and little fishes! Want to go for a swim before lunch?” Five minutes later they were in the pool, horsing around, ducking and splashing each other, without a care in the world. Tommy’s wise words had impacted Rich enormously, giving him a whole new slant on what he was going through and what it was doing to him and for him. And Rich loved him even more (if that were possible) for helping him through this experience in such a caring way. A lie-in-the-sun, a delicious lunch, a swim, a nap, and another swim – altogether, Rich was feeling like a new man when they got into the car to drive downtown. Tommy took the wheel, not because Rich couldn’t drive, but because his chronically weak left eye was apt to mess up his distance judgement in the narrow, crowded streets of Portavedra – a city which, despite its location in the New World, was thoroughly Old World in appearance, in size, and in its entire ignorance of anything remotely resembling “urban planning.” Aquarius was a popular waterfront restaurant, making up in the quality and quantity of the portions for what it lacked in cachet. Rich and Tommy were a familiar sight there, and an endless source of amusement to the staff who laughed at them for not going to upscale places such as Café Calamari or Hilltop Terrace frequented by all the other politicos, millionaires, and visitors with overstuffed wallets. They got a favourite table by the water’s edge, not because of status but because of Rich’s well-known propensity for tipping generously whenever he ate out. After a bottle of wine and a delightful meal of conch chowder and fresh fish from the reefs of Serafina, they were in a mood to relax and enjoy the view. The sunset colours in the sky were slowly fading, and the first stars were just starting to appear in the twilight. “How are you feeling now, Rich?” “A thousand percent better. Perfect tropical night, perfect meal, but most of all because of you.” “That’s what I like to hear: you, back to your normal, cheery self.” “Just so you know, it won’t last beyond tomorrow at breakfast time. I have a 10:00 am meeting with the Premier and the President.” “What about the memoir?” “I can put it aside for a while, now that I’ve gotten over the really awful part. When it’s time to revisit it and carry on writing, I’ll know.” Half an hour later, they were home and in bed together. As they stroked and kissed each other, Tommy said, “Okay, you’ve been lazy enough now. I’ve been doing most of the work since you got home. Time for you to earn your keep here.” So saying, he grasped Rich’s cock firmly, squeezing it rhythmically until he felt it beginning to fill and swell up. “That’s better. But you’re going to do more. You’re going to get this dick completely hard and then you’re going to give me a no-holds-barred fucking.” “Okay, I guess I can take a hint.” Rich moved down and spread Tommy’s legs apart, licking at his balls and then slowly working his tongue down the taint as Tommy lifted his legs up off the bed, exposing his crack. When Rich began to dig his tongue into the crack, Tommy lifted his legs right into the air over his head, and his ass, crack, and hole were all exposed to his lover’s eyes. Rich plunged his face right in between Tommy’s cheeks, digging his tongue into the crack and licking firmly all around and over the tight little hole. As he did, he felt Tommy’s legs settle onto his shoulders, the slim but strong thighs pressing against either side of his head. Rich pushed more firmly with the tip of his tongue, shaping it into a hard little point like a miniature dick, and pushing harder until the tight hole began to give way and his tongue wormed its way inside Tommy’s ass. At the same time, he brought his hands up to grasp Tommy’s hips, anchoring them firmly while he dug into that sweet, tight hole. The pressure from stabbing his tongue in and out was slowly loosening Tommy’s tight button, and at the same dragging ecstatic moans out of Tommy’s mouth. Time to add a finger. Rich began sliding his index finger inside the tight little ass, bending and twisting as he pushed, until the whole finger slid inside. A little twirling, and he located Tommy’s prostate, quickly stroking it and pulling even more moans out of the gland’s owner. At the same time, he slid his other hand down and began stroking his own cock, making sure it was hard and ready for the work ahead. As soon as he grasped it and stroked it, the precum began leaking out. Rich had always been a prodigious leaker, often letting out precum before he even got any of his clothes off, long before he was ready to shoot. A second finger followed the first, and then a third. Tommy was groaning loudly now, telling Rich to “quit teasing my hole and fuck it already!” And Rick felt that it was time to oblige, to give the man he loved exactly what he was asking for. He slowly slid his fingers out of Tommy’s ass, moved up until he was looking down into Tommy’s beautiful eyes, and then placed the tip of his dick against the hole. He felt the quivering in Tommy’s body, and increased the pressure, until he breached the hole and slowly buried his entire length deep inside Tommy’s ass. Tommy squirmed for a few moments and then settled in place with Rich kneeling up and looking down into his eyes. Rich could feel the hole loosening, and then beginning to squeeze and chew on his dick, and he knew it was time to fuck ass. He was so horny that it took only a dozen strokes or so for him to work all the way up to full pounding speed, while Tommy moaned and cried and repeatedly cried, “Yes! Yes! Fuck me harder! Give me that whole big cock inside me!” Rich leaned over until he had his mouth locked on Tommy’s, his legs straight out behind, going crazy in full push-up mode inside his man’s fuckhole. Tommy had rotated his ass up into the air to meet Rich’s powerful thrusts, and his cries were rapidly becoming inarticulate as he felt his own orgasm mounting. Rich’s skillful pounding was going to fuck his load right out of him, even though he wasn’t touching his own cock. As Rich’s cock moved faster, slamming in harder and harder, the rapid tattoo of his hips slamming against Tommy’s upturned cheeks only brought Tommy’s impending climax on even more quickly. Tommy heaved in an enormous breath and shouted, “Fuck me! Yeah! Make me cum!!!” By now, Rich was running on sheer instinct, eyes glazed over, growling on each breath, feeling nothing but the overwhelming urge to let fly with his seed, to breed, to pump it as far inside his partner’s body as possible. “Yes! Cum for me!” he grunted. Tommy let out a wordless cry as his cock lifted and blew a huge bolt of cum right into his own face. The sudden powerful contraction of his hole pulled Rich over the edge and he came too, pumping a whole string of massive squirts of his seed into Tommy’s sucking hole as Tommy kept on squirting cum over himself. Half a minute later, Rich’s cock was still flexing inside Tommy, even though all his sperm had already been fired into Tommy’s saturated ass. After a powerhouse fucking like that, it took quite a while for both of them to slowly wind down and recover their breath. Rich finally let his cock, still rock-hard, slip out of Tommy’s ass and Tommy immediately roused himself and dived onto it, licking, sucking, and cleaning it in gratitude for the wild ride it had just given him. At last, Rich spoke. “That was incredible. I can’t think when the last time was that you made me cum like that, so much pumping out of me.” Tommy giggled. “Well, it’s been quite a while since you tore me a new one the way you just did. It was amazing, getting worked over that way by the old man of the house.” “Old man! Thanks a lot!” “Hey, I’m not complaining! I asked for it.” “You did.” “Maybe you should go on more of these extended business trips. Breaking up for a week like this has done wonders for our sex life!” They laughed together, wrapping their arms around each other and snuggling close to fall asleep. Monday morning. Rich got up early, with no time for morning sex, and sat down with his first cup of coffee to catch up on the backlog of work-related emails in his government inbox. Lucy would have already gone through all of them, and sifted out the routine matters, to be covered later in her brief daily morning report to her boss. Even so, there was a fair pile of material to sort through. An hour later, Tommy joined him and they went out for their morning swim. Already, it was a hot sticky day as the sun rose and promised to get even hotter as the day progressed. Back inside, they enjoyed breakfast together, and then Rich showered and dressed, kissed Tommy goodbye, and headed down to his office in the government block, across the courtyard from the Assembly building. After calling Lucy in for the morning update, he gathered up his essentials and walked across the courtyard for his 10:00 am meeting with the President and Premier, Desmond Flowers and Benita Caladesa. He arrived outside the President’s office at the same time as Premier Caladesa, who greeted him warmly. Rich returned her greeting as warmly, having an immense respect and admiration for her skills as both party leader and elected head of government, roles she had now filled for over 10 years. Together, they were shown into the inner sanctum by the President’s executive assistant. The prematurely white-haired President Flowers was looking even more benign and patriarchal than usual this morning, a fact which immediately set Rich a bit on edge. He’d known Flowers long enough to be always on the alert for the secret agenda, the concealed motive, the hidden plans behind that apparently honest and respectably open face. The most unsimple truth was that the Presidency, supposedly a head of state position of ceremonial and symbolic importance only, had become an office of considerable influence and power under Flowers’ adroit and consummate political stewardship. Rich had found that it always paid to be wary when dealing with him. The meeting turned out to be simpler and more straightforward than Rich had feared. The President wanted to know about plans for the next election for the Assembly. According to law, as they all knew, it had to be held within 5 years of the last one, and the five-year deadline was coming up in 14 months. Rich mostly sat and observed, implicitly trusting Benita to play it smoothly. And she did. Benita was as thoroughly aware as Rich of the value of caution in dealing with the President.. She assured Flowers that she, the Cabinet, and her staff were all thoroughly aware of the deadline. There were a couple of suitable windows of opportunity over the next year to fit in the campaign without disrupting major holiday seasons, and she would consider her options over the course of a week or two and let him know. The President looked a little put out, a look which suggested that he would rather have had the election at the earliest opportunity -- but that was a decision entirely within the Premier’s purview, and he agreed smoothly, asking Rich if the Minister of Justice also agreed. Of course, Rich affirmed that he did. As they walked back across the courtyard, Benita asked Rich to come to her office for a few minutes. Once there, she got her secretary to hold all calls, and had George, her executive assistant, join them. “Rich, and George, this is strictly confidential. No minutes, no written record.” Both men nodded. “I’ve decided that I’m ready to retire, as Premier and party leader. I’m going to announce this very shortly and will step down as soon as the party selects a new leader. This will leave enough time for the new leader to settle into the role before an election has to be called.” Neither Rich nor George was surprised, as she had told them more than once that this possibility was in her thinking. Rich immediately said what was uppermost in his mind, “Benita, I want to thank you here and now for your inspiring leadership and your steadfast commitment to the well-being of the country as Premier.” George added, “Count me in on that too.” Benita laughed. “Thank you. But the funeral hasn’t come yet and it’s too soon for the eulogy.” That gave them all a chuckle. “That’s all, gentlemen. Rich, I’ll let you know as soon as I decide the timing of the announcement.” She then gave him an unusually intense look. “And I hope you will be a candidate for the position.” Rich nodded. “I expected you to say that. Benita, I will need to think about it carefully before I decide.” That night, at home, Rich was quiet and solemn. Tommy asked if anything was wrong. “Work issues, Tommy.” Tommy smiled and set it aside. They’d worked out that code phrase as soon as Rich was appointed to Cabinet. It meant that the problem was confidential, and he wasn’t free to talk about it. But Tommy had his own news bulletin as well. “Well, there’s some important news on my end. The university president asked me today if I would accept an appointment as Dean of Arts and Science.” “Tommy, that’s wonderful!” “I told him I would have to think about it, that it would depend on what your career path might hold.” Tommy didn’t know, and Rich couldn’t comment, but this was exactly the same spot Rich was in – a possible huge career move, and a need to talk about it. Except for the little problem that Rich couldn’t talk – yet. All he could do was try to defer that conversation until Benita was ready to make her announcement. As it happened, she was ready sooner than even he expected. The very next morning, George called Rich to let him know that the Premier was dropping the word today and would go live to air on Alcantara24 at 1:00 pm. Rich accordingly sent Tommy a text message advising him to tune in on the news site during his lunch break for the Premier’s announcement. During the morning, the Alcantara24 news screen had repeatedly displayed a crawl line stating that the Premier would be making a public statement, so many Alcantarans were watching at one o’clock. Benita began by greeting all who were watching, in her inimitably friendly and personal style. She then stated that she was announcing her retirement from politics, from the Premiership, and from the leadership of the Social Democratic Party. The Party would immediately begin the process to select a new leader, and her retirement would take effect as soon as that leader was chosen. The election would undoubtedly happen within a few months after that date. In closing, she thanked all her supporters, all the dedicated members of her Cabinet (past and present) and wished all the best to the contenders for the Party leadership and to all the people of Alcantara. The affection of the people of the country for her could readily be gauged by the blizzard of thousands of comments which quickly filled the chat window, comments of praise, memories of personal meetings with the Premier, thanks for her years of dedicated service. Reading them all afterwards, Benita was brought repeatedly to tears by the massive outpouring of love and gratitude. In his office, President Flowers sat with an enigmatic smile on his face. He had to admit that he had not foreseen this development. He had fully expected Benita to run for and win another majority term, and then to make her move at about the halfway point of that 5-year period. He’d been prepared to play her long game, but this shorter version suited him even better. All he needed now was for that up-and-coming foreign faggot, Dunnatore, to step up and run for the position -- as he fully expected he would. Then Flowers would be in charge, and no mistake. With the hold he had over the Minister of Justice, he could use Rich’s leadership to push through the constitutional changes he had long desired, and thus fix the ridiculous power imbalance between Premier and President. Then, given his good health, he could reasonably expect at least twenty years of a virtually free hand to reshape the country in a manner more to his liking. Rich was aware that Flowers didn’t really care for him, but that wasn’t factored at all into his thinking as he sat in his office, pondering the situation. What he was really thinking about was his future – and his past. Only the day before, he’d been pondering the way that politics was gradually stripping away his integrity. The mental comparison of the man he was becoming versus the righteous anger with which he had sent Carlo away was not a bit comfortable to him. At last, he contacted Lucy and told her that he was taking the afternoon off. Effective as she undoubtedly was at her position, Lucy could also be very annoying and overbearing at times. But she was nothing if not politically astute, and she asked no questions, knowing that Rich was facing the biggest decision of his political life.

It's spring and love is in the air! So many heart-warming moments in this chapter, as everyone goes out of their way to make Mateo feel welcome and to fit him into life in the palace. And then ending up with Max and Alex having a beautiful and hot private moment and Hannes and Mateo going on a wonderful first date. This whole chapter totally pulled on my romantic heartstrings!

I've been waiting for the purpose behind the Bravos to begin to emerge. Interesting way to go about it. Thanks for the fascinating description of his mental states while talking to Collins.

So I've been told. But it helps that I've reread most of the story just to help me keep the whole picture in view. So many plot lines and comings and goings to keep track of! @losolent really works in a lot of elements, ideas, and little references from earlier on as the story keeps growing.

The only reason I clued in was that I finally spotted the key words "unfinished business" which Andreas had said several times, to Alex and to Marty, when he turned up at Greenacres.