Mojo - 4. Chapter 4: Slocked Affections

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Part Two – The Laguna Beach (Mis…)Adventures

Chapter 4: Slocked Affections

"So, what does this big-mac client of yours do again…?" I was casting eyes upwards.

We stood in front of a large but spartan-looking house, or more accurately, before its black iron gate. A six-foot wall of undressed cinderblocks abutted the sidewalk, and from the top of it rose vertical siding stained sage green. Altogether the structure informed stranger, passerby, Jehovah Witness, door-to-door salesman, burglar or common punk like me: I may be rich behind these walls, but stay away. In other words, it projected the drunken 1960s idea of sobriety.

We'd already had a long day, even though it was only about four in the afternoon. Assauer's exertions had been great, for not only did he do all the driving – my reward for which was giving him the pleasure of my beloved Gordon's company in the front seat while I stayed isolated in the back – but last night, after we had agreed on our plan of escape, my ex returned to Hollywood in the wee hours to fetch his car. He told us he drove through empty streets returning to Long Beach. No headlights followed him, he said, and I suppose late at night, with traffic at a minimal, he'd be able to tell.

Despite our intentions to hit the road at first light, we crashed most of the morning. After we woke up, we ate a bit, packed and left. Ninety percent of the drive down here had been all too sadly typical for SoCal forays; we traveled long stretches of featureless freeway, tediously playing stop-n-go taillight tag, all the while ducking in and out of the chasms created by towering trucks.

That changed spectacularly once we turned west on 133, or onto Laguna Canyon Road, for that's exactly what it was – a scenic and not very busy pass through a winding valley. Out my backseat window to the right were verdant hills apparently untouched by man, while strawberry fields rolled by for wide-open country miles on the left.

Eventually Highway 133 swept us along a final gentle curve, and the entire vast blueness of the Pacific opened before us.

Once in the ritzy community of Laguna Beach proper, we pulled off the main drag and started climbing switchback lanes, which only narrowed and became more tree-shaded the higher and richer we rose into the posh neighborhoods.

At last we parked on top of a hill and trudged with our bags to this gate, glimpsing vistas between the plantings and walled properties.

"He's the headmaster of a private military academy, one for small boys," Assauer said.

I immediately quipped: "Didn't Trump go to one of those?"

"He did," replied my ex. "One that went bankrupt recently because of all the abuse lawsuits."

"Oh, geeze," muttered Gordon.

I smiled. "Need I say more?"

"I'm texting the guy we're here."

"Now this house makes sense," I told my boyfriend, directing my sights up again. "It looks like army barracks."

The gate buzzed, so I grabbed it.

"He says to come in and head up to the pool."

My ex led the way and gave me a moment to raise a crooked eyebrow in Gordon's direction. "The pool…?" The uninviting abode appeared too severe to have any such amenities.

I followed my boy up a plain set of steps, not resisting the feel of his teenage buns working underneath his denim. His reaction was to shift the weight of his ratty old gym bag and swipe my hand from his ass.

"You should get rid of that…that piece of tat," I said peevishly.

"Why?" He grinned back at me, hefting the strap so the slate-blue Aptos High School logo of an 'A' over an anchor outline was right in my face. "Don't like thinking about our past…?"

We laughed, but he was right; I didn't.

Upstairs, the main level opened up the house a little, but it still resembled a compound of buildings rather than a typical residence, for breezeways had overhangs and doorways to what I imagined were many guest rooms.

We heard Assauer return greetings to a manly voice up ahead, and in another minute, I followed Gordon's back into the sunshine.

I paused and had my breath taken away. Jutting over a cliff face, a huge terrace was dominated by a spacious and impeccably maintained swimming pool.

An iron handrail on the other side framed a killer view. A living fringe created by the top of mature palm trees rooted to the earth some eighty feet below punctuated a symphony of clouds and waves; the shimmering blue tones rippling underwater from the pool were matched by the views of sky and sea beyond.

A burly man, with an old-fashioned buzz cut in silver-gray and wearing a terrycloth robe, was hugging Assauer. After shoving him away and latching on by the shoulders, the man administered a painful backslap, before releasing his grip on my ex.

He then turned his attention to us, smiling and calling out: "Welcome! The more the merrier."

"Captain Hojax," said Assauer, "it's great to see you again."

"I always knew you'd be back, son." He actually winked at my German companion, and caused a slight riffle of jealousy within me.

His appearance spoke of a hard life of faking it. In his particular case, the role was Commandant, a tough one at that, but only geared to frighten little boys. His features were round and somewhat flabby, but his scowls more than tensed up his facial muscles into a hypercritical whole. Fifty-ish, the peek of manly chest hair through the terrycloth opening of the robe, and powerful calves sticking out from below it, said he was not faking his youthfully fit physique.

Our host led the way, his gruff voice commanding, "Come. Let's meet the others."

Once the captain wasn't watching, my ex rubbed his sore shoulder, giving me a look like he regretted the decision of coming back into Hojax's clutches already.

To the right side of the pool was a shady cabana. In the cool were two people sitting around in swimsuits and drinking.

The captain did the honors. "May I introduce my old friend, Lloyd, and his enchanting partner. This is a sexy German I know, Assauer, and his friends."

The three of us dumped our gear and sat down.

"This is Kohl, my ex," Assauer said, "and his boyfriend, Gordon."

One of Hojax's guests was a thirty-ish Asian. He whipped off his designer sunglasses and thrust a ladylike hand towards my boyfriend. "The name's Sang Trọng. But everybody calls me Trọng. And yes, I am Vietnamese," he said with immense pride, and quite a large accent to boot.

Gordon took the moist fingers gallantly, but I could tell he wanted to wipe his own right away.

In contrast to his partner, Lloyd was a darkly brooding man, the strong silent type, and no doubt considered a bad-to-the-bone stud in many circles. Over six-foot, and perhaps forty-five, he was endowed with raven hair slicked back and wet from the pool, and emotional eyes used to not showing a thing.

"Drinks!" the captain called out. In a moment or two, a boy in a white polo shirt appeared. A blond teen of the rich-kid variety, he was the type you'd usually expect to see part-timing it as a caddy on country club greens.

"Armand, mix up a pitcher of Mai Tais, lad."

"Yes, sir," the boy said with a slight bow, hands laid one over the other near his crotch, and a slight sparkle in his glance at me. He turned and went, with me noticing how well those black trousers gripped his tight little ass.

"So, Kohl," our host asked with another wink, "are you German too?"

"Yes. Me and Assauer are from the same little country region in Germany."

"Bavaria?!" Trọng inquired with raw enthusiasm. He had laid his shades on the table.

"No…" I smiled. "No leather shorts, or hunter-green socks, I'm afraid."

While everyone laughed, Trọng's leer at me scanned down to my lap.

"Well, whatever," Lloyd's boyfriend said. "I think your accent's adorable."

As he drained the last of his drink in anticipation of a fresh round, I wished I could say the same about his accent.

"Speaking of Germany, I suppose my little Ass-Hour told you," said Hojax, "that I have quite a collection of Nazi memorabilia."

"You do?" I swallowed; of course the Arsch had said nothing about it.

"Oh, yes! A fascinating time in military history. Fascinating. I have one of Hitler's ex libris stickers. It's one of my most prized possessions."

"What's that, anyway?" questioned Trọng.

"Ex libris," the collector explained, "is the piece of paper glued to the inside of a book to show who once owned it."

"Yeah, right," chuckled Trọng. "As if Hitler's nightstand reading list is why we still remember him."

"You know," Assauer suddenly chimed in with a scowl, "why is it you Americans are so interested in the Nazis in the first place, and all things World War II in general?"

I shot my ex a warning look. This was not the place or time to antagonize our host.

"I can tell you that one," Lloyd said. It was the first time he'd spoken, and his tone was deep, mellow and sultry. "We're intrigued by how one of the world's great cultures – Germany before the war – could be seduced and destroyed by crudeness, bigotry and anti-intellectual boogieman-baiting."

"Lloyd is right," Hojax affirmed. "How the country of art and science and tolerance – of Schiller, Goethe, Einstein! – could turn its back on greatness and instead embrace xenophobia and fear."

Assauer flushed and rather aggressively pegged elbows on the table. "Then it sounds like people in the near future will be collecting Mar-a-Lago cocktail napkins and wondering the same thing about the nation of Longfellow, Whitman and Bill Nye."

The table was jolted as if by an electrical current. The truth is always right, but it doesn't always need to be said.

After a tense moment, the captain laughed brightly and administered another punishing blow of affection on my ex's shoulder. "Bill Nye!" he called out. "He's a mismatched comparison to Albert Einstein! I would have said Edwin Hubble, Robert Oppenheimer, or even Carl Sagan."

Assauer relaxed back in his seat with a twinkle. "I stand corrected."

"Well, anyway," Hojax continued, "you won't find any of those Gop-endorsed 'Make America White-Bread Again' people around here. We're all aligned politically on the side of progress and calm."

I said, “That’s a relief to hear, but do you mean Republican-endorsed?”

“Yes!” chirped Trọng. “You know, holier-than-thou Gops. Rhymes with fake morality Cops.”

We all laughed until the sight of Armand returning made us turn and watch him. The sexy blond was rolling over a drinks cart; it rattled with ice in a tall pitcher. The boy set out three new glasses for us, and as he poured mine, I made sure this kid knew I was interested. When he smiled briefly and moved on to fill Gordon's glass, I caught my boy's eyes on me. He was not a happy motor home, let's just say. I'd make it up to him later.

Almost as bitchy payback, Gordon picked up his glass and sipped it with lewd intent towards Trọng.

The Vietnamese guy fingered his sunglasses and plied glances between me, my boy and the teen waiter. Finally he settled on Gordon, saying, "You are way overdressed for a pool party. Get changed and we'll go for a dip."

I hurriedly coughed up a lie. "Gordon has no swim trunks."

"Oh, tsk, tsk," said Trọng, rising elegantly and reaching for my boy's hand. "You need to find someone to take better care of you. Come on." His words turned to me. "I have just the perfect thing for him to slip into, back in my room."

My blood boiled as I watched this seductress lead my boyfriend straight into the lion's lair.

˚˚˚˚˚

I tugged at my necktie. Dinner at the Hojax house turned out to be an oddly formal affair, or regimental, I guess you'd call it. Nevertheless, I had freewheeling plans for later, as Gordon looked extremely hot in his suit coat, tie and gelled hair, which accented his curls in just the right way.

I might have been the only one at the table to notice though, because some catering firm had supplied both boy servers and the fare. In terms of food, it was basic-bitch offerings. 'Gott im Himmel!' I thought as I speared another tasteless one. 'How many grilled zucchini can one country eat?' As for the waiters, sexy guys in gray blazers appeared to be moonlighting surfers and kept the boy-hungry stares of Hojax and Lloyd off of us, for the most part.

Armand had his role too, and he polished up attractively with a bowtie and arm towel to pour dinner drinks.

However, the more California Merlot went into him, the more Trọng's eyebrows flickered at me in open flirtation. I guess he'd forgotten about my boy, or already had his fun with Gordon while putting those designer trunks on him.

"The Mary Jane all safe and secure for the evening?" Hojax mildly inquired of Lloyd.

I glanced at Assauer to see if he knew what they were talking about; he only shrugged.

"Yes, Captain. She's in good hands, with the full crew on board, and on duty for the night."

"Lloyd's a captain too," interjected Trọng.

"Well, my 300-foot yacht is anchored offshore. Maybe we can all go out on her tomorrow."

"That'd be awesome!"

I found Gordon's enthusiasm to be a little bare-naked. It aggravated my green-eyed monster to see Lloyd sparkle so suggestively at my boy.

"If the weather is fine," I added, trying to dampen the fun.

Sang Trọng languorously drained his glass and got Armand's attention. "He's more than a yacht captain."

"Is that right?" Assauer began doing his own flirtations with Lloyd.

"Yes," said Hojax. "The way I'm captain over troops of little boys, Lloyd shepherds lots of little bundles by sea, from one port to another."

Me and the members of our gang looked at one another; what did that mean?

Armand poured more wine.

"Shipping," continued Hojax with a knowing glint to his expression, "is a cutthroat business."

Trọng's hand went over to stroke his partner's arm. "And my Big Strong Man is big and strong in both his love life and business dealings. Let's just say, he's respected by all."

"The sea has been good to me. I've always felt drawn to it, and respect Neptune's bounty as much as his threats." Lloyd, who by candlelight only had his shadowy, 'dangerous' edge whetted, leaned forward to conclude with gravity. "I feel blessed, but it's more than that. It's about strength too. Put a weak man in a weak position and he'll act recklessly; put a strong man in a tough position and he'll show leadership."

Captain Hojax bristled with laughter. "I thought we were done talking politics for the day."

"Well, maybe just a little more," Lloyd said as he tapped his glass for Armand to top off.

Our host continued in a bright tone. "You know what I think, I think it's a story as old as history: a scheister, let’s call him Mister McDump, blows into Nowheresville, USA, and tells the rubes 'I can fix all your woes. Just trust me!' Then he proposes schemes for brass bands, monorails and other useless things – like border patrols against the neighboring county – all of which the people have no earthy need for, while at the same time closing down the schools and hospitals as 'a total waste.' Then he sells off the public park to a developer for a ritzy, private golf course. So soon the man's supporters are the ones left paying more and more taxes to get these crazy extras they don’t need. Meantime he's fucking their wives and daughters, stashing the cash for himself, and will eventually blow out of town, leaving the suckers robbed and knocked up." Hojax lifted his glass, a big grin appearing behind it. "…Sound familiar…?"

"Oh, yes. A Mister McDUMP indeed," Trọng said.

We all laughed.

"Serves his few supporters right, I guess," affirmed Lloyd. "As they say, the devil eats his own first." He drank.

I considered that for a moment. "In Germany we say it slightly different. We say 'Die Revolution frisst ihre eigenen Kinder,' or, to loosely paraphrase, 'The revolution eventually chops off the heads of the revolutionaries.'"

"Very good, Kohl," schmoozed our Vietnamese dinner companion.

I smiled at him before turning a goading expression on Assauer. Nothing wrong with scoring a few extra cub-scout points against my ex.

The surfer-dude waiters came around with steak and potatoes. Once placed before us, Hojax called out "Dig in!" and we did.

Just as I was about to take my first bite, Lloyd said, "Kohl, have you ever done any modeling? You have 'the look,' you know."

If the look was to be flattered and charmed, I sported it on the spot.

"Him!" exclaimed my Exfreund. "No!" And then he pealed off sheets of laughter like rain. Oddly, this caused Hojax to openly place his hand on Assauer's in a gesture of either turned-on tenderness or lust; I couldn't tell which.

"I haven’t," I explained to Lloyd very calmly, "except for a brief stint as a figure-drawing model, but thank you for saying so."

I 'accidentally' kicked Assauer's shin under the table. His laughter died into a hostile glare, one that made Gordon giggle. My boy was used to seeing us at odds.

"I mention it," said the cryptic sea captain, "because there's a charismatic modeling agency I could put you in touch with, if you like. They're in San Diego, which is one of the ports I operate out of."

"Thanks, Lloyd. I'll keep it in mind." I could finally take a bite of my steak.

"And oh, by the way," Lloyd continued in mild warning, "if you do meet up with them, you should know they're not too welcoming to out folks."

"Gay guys?" Trọng asked.

"No…" Lloyd shook his head. "For them, men sleeping with men is fine, especially their members with each other, just as long as they don't talk about it, or do public stuff to—"

"Promote it?” Trọng asked dismissively.

"Yeah."

"Geeze," muttered Gordon.

The shipping magnate lifted half of his mouth in a sultry smile, one aimed squarely towards my boy.

"Tsk, Tsk." Trọng wagged his finger before taking Lloyd by the hand. "No being lovey-dovey in the open and spreading the germ."

After a sip of wine, I said, "Thanks for the heads up, Lloyd. Since I'm so pretty, they may not mind either way." Premonition-like, I jerked my leg out of the way just as Assauer tried to kick me. His knee banged the underside of the table, rattling dishes, causing him pain, and making Gordon laugh outright.

After I glared at my ex for a second with a 'serves you right' sneer, I suddenly noticed the degree to which sexual tension was pinging around the room: Trọng to yours truly, Hojax nearly salivating as he asked Assauer if he was all right—causing my ex to roll his eyes at me—and now Lloyd had turned his considerable magnetism to attracting the attentions of my sweet little Gordon Sanchez.

I was instantly hot under the collar, and knew I needed to step away.

Excusing myself for a visit to the restroom, I instead ducked into the butler's pantry. The door to the kitchen was closed and I used the hand sink to splash water on my face.

What's that expression about being blind with jealousy…?

Yet, not being able to see as I was, I could still hear the door from the hallway click shut, and then sense fingers hand me a towel.

I wiped, opened my lids, and smiled. Sexy-ass Armand was already unzipping my fly, and heading down to his knees….

˚˚˚˚˚

Hours later, me and Gordon knew Assauer had been called to duty, and was currently 'at attention' in Captain Hojax's room. So we slipped out in nothing but our trunks and had a private moonlight swim. And is there anything more blissful than a midnight dip, other than doing it with the one you love?

I was still in nothing but my swimsuit, back alone in our room again, rubbing my head and listening to the stiff hotel-grade towel sound in my ears like sandpaper, when my stomach rumbled. In mid-thought about how grateful I was my boyfriend had ventured off to the kitchen to fetch us a snack, I heard a noise. Pausing, with the fabric still covering my sight, I called out softly: "Gordon?"

Nothing.

I lowered the towel. Not a thing seemed changed. 'Weird,' I thought, but shrugged and went to the bathroom.

While brushing my teeth, I smiled a sudden grin remembering how the sexy teen had gotten on his sexy knees in the butler's pantry—

Was that another sound?

Using the terrycloth now draped over my shoulders, I dabbed my chin and left my toothbrush hanging out of my mouth as I crept back into the bedroom.

Some vague urge led me to the closet.

Flinging open the door, I saw nothing. Well, nothing other than Gordon's clothes on the hangers and his gym bag on the floor.

Back in front of the bathroom mirror, I glanced at my own sandy hair and devilishly good-looking green eyes and thought how lucky my boy was.

A fleeting memory of Armand's skillful lips on my cock shadowed the mirth of my gaze in reflection, and after I rinsed off my toothbrush and set it aside, I wondered if my boyfriend would be hurt to learn about the pantry tryst.

The water went on. I bent down to scoop some in my mouth and spit.

When I straightened up, Trọng was smiling in the mirror behind me. "Evening, Kohl."

I whipped around, grabbing the counter in back of me for support. "What are you doing here?"

"What else, looking for a quickie." His gracile fingers landed expertly on my Speedos, front and center.

"Um—" I glanced towards the room door, fighting the natural reaction of getting hard.

"I saw Gordon go in the other direction."

I retreated to the other room and found Gordon's tee-shirt. As I tried to lift it over my head, Trọng halted my progress. His grip lingered on my forearm and wound up caressing me.

"Better to wear nothing," he said, "than that."

"What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing except everything. It's not good enough for you, sexy. I'll take you shopping sometime with Lloyd's credit card. You into Gucci?"

I shrugged.

He took my hand and led me to a position in front of the bed.

"You like me so much?"

He guffawed. "Like? Like you in the way our host's Mai Tai boy liked you in the pantry?"

"No secrets in this house, huh?" I smiled.

"Nothing faster than the Gay Grapevine, huntie."

I moistened my mouth. "Wouldn't want Gordon to find out—"

"My lips are sealed. Well, to him at least."

Now I was hopelessly hard, but still unsure.

His hands reached out again and slid across the erotically sensitive area just in front of my hips. He kissed me, aggressively, all tongue and mouthwash, and my hands rose instinctively, not wanting to further inflame him.

Just then the door burst open and Captain Hojax entered in a heartbroken rage. He seemed blind to Trọng's presence and came straight up to me.

"It's all your fault!"

"I didn't— He—" I gesticulated vaguely towards my original intruder, who was now easing himself down on the bed to enjoy the show.

"Assauer told me what's going on!"

"…he did…?" I was totally confused.

"He won't have sex with me, and said you're the one turned him against me. He told me you two are back together, and in love."

The final pair of words apparently made him sick, and while I was wondering if my callboy ex ever had more than a paid-by-the-hour thing with the captain, I glanced down at Trọng languorously spread with one elbow propped on a pillow, his hand supporting his head.

To Hojax, I shrugged and smiled. "What can I say. It's just one of those…things…?"

The officer's irate cast was eclipsed by something else. He moistened his mouth, and all at once I noticed what he was wearing: a pair of patent black leather shorts equipped with some sort of cock ring on the inside, a ribbed tank top in white with a harness over the top. A small military cap rode his head at an angle, and a punishing-looking crop twitched in his right hand.

Hojax didn't answer my question, at least not with words; things slowed down and unfolded in molasses-grade slow motion.

"Um—" stuck in my throat.

His fingertips ghosted the divot of my naked chest as carefully as an inchworm measuring a marigold. "Know what I think?" he asked, huskiness appearing in his voice.

"Umm…" I slowly shook my head.

"I think since you made him douse my affections with cold water, and now my Ass-Hour won't put up his ass anymore, it's your duty to pay the tab." The man's crop reached back and stroked my exposed thigh. "I think it's time for you to pony up, son."

"Um, but, sir, I'm a top, only—"

Without making a sound, Trọng had risen and was standing next to us. Hojax and I glanced into his crafty face and watched the seductive Asian take control of the situation.

Using one hand, he lifted the crop to a fully erect position and drew it slowly to his lips. Licking it, once, his head tilted, and Trọng's cinnamon-brown peepers locked fiercely onto the pseudo military man's.

"But, Captain," he teased. "I'm a guest too. When's my chance to show some 'preciation?"

The pout worked its magic on the older guy, causing his mouth to tremble, and yours truly to be utterly forgotten.

In another moment, Trọng had full possession of the whip and was leading a bewitched Hojax out of the room, one finger looped through a harness ring.

"'Night, Kohl," he said with a wink while closing the door behind him.

All was silent for a second, and I let out a breath of relief. That Sang Trọng is a braver man than me, that's all I can say.

Just as I was searching for something to put on, and thinking about locking the door, Gordon burst in flushed and grinning.

"Where have you been?"

Below his blushing torso, he wore his bath towel like a kilt, the leg slit revealing he was still in his swim trunks.

"With Lloyd. He was mooching in the kitchen too."

I suddenly realized he'd brought nothing back to eat. "With Lloyd…?"

"Yeah. He's a fun guy, if by fun you mean sexy as shit."

I was about to lose it and go all jealous lover on my boy's ass, when the door opened again!

Assauer skulked in and locked it immediately behind him.

Me and Gordon stood amazed. Our buddy was in some kind of costume – a giant schoolboy uniform: black shoes and knee socks; army-green shorts, jacket and cap; and a white shirt that was ripped, exposing half his chest and abdomen to view.

After a moment of restraint, me and my boyfriend busted up in laughter, laughing so hard we collapsed on the bed together.

"That's it!" shouted Assauer, whipping the cap off his head and throwing it at us.

"Awww," I said like his mommy. "Captain Hojax too hot to handle, little boy?"

"Shut up, mein ex," he said before starting to chuckle too. "Time for a group meeting." He shoved me out of the way and sat on the bed next to Gordon.

I noticed he winced and re-adjusted his ass cheeks on the mattress. I went over and sat on the floor in front of them.

"Group meeting about what?" Gordon asked.

"Coming here was a mistake." Assauer's tone begged for agreement. "I didn’t have to do this, you know. I should have called up that rich mobster's wife in Palm Springs – she'd be safer for my health."

Me and Gordon chuckled.

"What do you propose?" I asked. "We just got here, and Trọng is keeping Hojax busy for the night. And by the way, thanks for making the captain hate me. He thinks I turned you against—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I had to tell him something."

I rolled my eyes. "Arsch."

"Spitzbub."

"Well, it's funny you mention it," Gordon said.

"Mentioned what?" Assauer puzzled. "That I called him a…a…scallywag?"

"Yes, he's a scally for sure, but I meant escaping."

Me and my ex exchanged looks. "What do you mean?"

"I mean Lloyd. While we were eating leftover bean sprouts in the kitchen, he invited us to stay with him at his country house. He complained about Hojax being too stingy a host, and he wants him and Trọng to bolt, tomorrow in fact. Do you see? We can go with them."

"That's a great idea!" Assauer exclaimed, rising excitedly and getting pinged by his sore ass cheeks.

"No, no, brother," I said. "You're staying right here. This whole mess of Hojax hating me and Gordon is your doing. Plus, your 'client' is hot to entertain you for a while."

"Kohl—"

"He's right," Gordon chimed in.

"Look," I said. "Here's what we'll do. You stay put and scout out this place for valuables. You know the captain has some someplace. In the meantime, me and Gordon will do the same at Lloyd's. We'll meet you back here after we've collected some choice pieces to pawn."

"I don’t know…" he said, but I could tell Assauer was already warming to the idea of robbing Officer Pony Crop blind.

"And, as for that whip of his, Hojax wants you to take charge; I saw Trọng do it, and Captain Crew Cut positively drooled at the idea of a good thrashing."

He relented a bit more but still didn’t say yes.

"Come on, Assauer," Gordon entreated sweetly. "Enrich our common stock; share and share alike."

That got him.

"Okay," he sighed. "But just so you know, I'd rather be slammin' some chick right about now."

I laughed. "Whatever, Mary."

_