If It Fits - 15. Chapter 15

June 9, 1995

I asked Skip to take us out on a cruise for the night, assuming the gentle motion of the ocean and the cool breezes would relax my guests, but it didn't work. Lunch was stunted, with neither Jason nor Alejandro saying much. Alejandro said he was tired and wanted to take a nap, so he vanished down to his cabin.

“I'm tired too,” Jason said. “You mind if I nap for a bit?”

“Not at all,” I said. “Let me show you to your cabin.” I led him below to our cabin with JP in tow, rolling his eyes at me.

“I thought this was your cabin?” Jason asked.

“It is,” I said, moving up to him. “How long has it been since you made love to someone?”

He swallowed hard. Jason liked women, preferred them, but he always told me he liked fucking me too. “A long time.”

I moved up to him and reached down to stroke his tenting trousers while JP moved up behind him and wrapped his arms around him. I dropped to my knees and took out his huge dick. Jason was a scrawny guy, a total dork, but he had a huge cock, probably the biggest one I'd run across save one. I took it into my mouth and started working him slowly and gently, his moans telling me how much he loved the attention. I looked up and saw him turn his mouth to the side to kiss JP.

I got him really wound up and then dragged him over to the bed, shedding my clothes as I went. I slipped a condom over his cock, not without difficulty, and knelt on the bed, asking him to fuck me without saying anything. JP was right behind him, his arms wrapped around Jason, talking softly into his ear. “Go on Jason, fuck him. He wants it, he wants it bad. Then after you fuck him, you're going to fuck me.”

I felt Jason’s huge cock push against me and willed myself to relax, to prepare for this massive intruder, but it wasn't enough. He pushed into me and stretched me wide, wider than I'd been in a long time, and I had to bite my lip to squelch the pain. Jason, when he was in a positive frame of mind, could be an adequate lover, but in this condition, he wasn't. He just began to pivot in and out of me, plunging his cock inside me, the searing pain ripping through my whole body. Then it changed, the pain vanished, and it was just Jason's big dick slamming into me, and it was wonderful. I heard myself moaning like it was coming from another man, and felt my orgasm rising. Without warning, I exploded, blasting my load all over the bed while my body just quaked and shivered. When I was done I fell forward, letting his cock slip out of me. That was a mistake. The sudden loss of his dick caused my sphincter to spasm, and I lay there in pain, trying to hide it, but to no avail

“God, I hurt you,” Jason said, horrified.

“It was my fault,” I told him. “I let you pull out too fast. I am fine now, better than fine.” I stood up and kissed him then. “But you have not cum yet, and neither has JP. I wonder if he can handle you.”

JP grinned and shed his clothes, lying on his back instead of kneeling like I did. I lubed JP up well, and then Jason moved up and pushed into him. I watched JP go through the same experience that I'd just been through, so I lay next to him and cooed in his ear, coaching him along. Jason didn't take long to let him get used to his big dick, he was too wound up. He started to really fuck JP. He slammed into JP over and over again. I watched JP's body, waiting for him to respond. Finally, his dick started to rise. I moved down and took him into my mouth just as Jason began to cum. I sucked on JP while I watched Jason's groin grind into JP as he spasmed and spasmed into him. When Jason was spent, I made him stay there while I sucked JP off, making sure that JP didn't have the same experience as I did.

Jason lay there with us, a big smile on his face. Once again I'd used my ass to exorcise his demons.

June 10, 1995

JP and I sat out on the deck, basking in the sun. It was warm, hot even, but the wind from the ship as it ploughed along turned the hot sun into a pleasant warm breeze. I looked over at him, and he looked back at me and smiled.

“I have never seen you so relaxed,” I said.

“I don't think I have ever been this relaxed,” he said.

“Do you think it is just because you are old and tired?” I teased.

“Probably,” he said. I could tell he was rolling his eyes underneath his mirrored Oakleys.

“You are not old,” I said, “but if you are like me, you are tired. You wear me out.”

He grinned. “I am relaxed because I am happy.”

“You are?” It was so out of character for him to talk about things this openly.

“I am. I really love you, Stef. This feels so right, like it was meant to be. All these years, and the answer was right in front of me.”

I knew I was smiling so big I must have been positively beaming. “I feel the same way.” Just then I saw Alejandro walking up on deck. He strolled up and sprawled out in the chair across from us, as if there were nothing in the world wrong with him lying there, stark naked, his legs spread apart. “Well good afternoon,” I said, ignoring his nudity. He just looked at me and scowled. I looked at JP and he just raised his eyebrow, so I decided to ignore Alejandro.

Or I tried to. Alejandro had light skin, like a Castilian, with a slim, lithe body, the body of a boy who was already well on his way through adolescence. In fact, his body looked to be mature enough to belong to an 18 year old. He wasn't very muscular, his arms and legs were stringy, but somehow not having massive biceps or washboard abs made him that much more attractive. He'd be 16 in October, so way too young to be engaging in sex with us, or anyone over 18 for that matter. I'd made that clear to Skip yesterday, and the two twinks on the crew were nice, but kept a safe distance.

Alejandro seemed frustrated that we were ignoring him, which made me redouble my efforts to keep doing so. I buried myself in my book while I peeked surreptitiously at him. He reached down and scratched his balls, playing with them a little bit, then moved his hand up to his dick. He started playing with it in a relaxed way, just touching it, squeezing it, as if he was curious. Then he started to harden and his strokes became more purposeful as he started to masturbate. I could feel JP next to me and I knew without looking at him he was doing the same thing I was.

Now Alejandro was really working his dick, moaning loudly as he used his pre-cum to lubricate his hand. Up and down his hand went on his six and a half-inch dick, fast, and then slow, then fast again. And then, with one final loud moan, he blasted his load all over himself. JP and I did nothing, and I managed to keep myself from getting a blatant erection, although I had to think about shriveled up naked grandmothers to do it. I could feel Alejandro watching me carefully but I continued to ignore him. Finally, he got up and went back down to his cabin.

“Well that was interesting,” JP said.

“He obviously craves attention,” I observed unnecessarily. “I wonder how we will help him adapt to life in the States.”

“I'm thinking psychotherapy,” JP said sadly.

“You are probably right.” Alejandro stayed in his cabin for the rest of the day. That night he showed up for dinner wearing just a Speedo.

“You need to go put a shirt and some shorts on,” I said firmly.

“You don't like the way I look?” he asked in a slutty voice.

“Not at dinner, no, I do not,” I said to him firmly. “If you are going to stay with us, you are going to have to conform to some basic rules. One of them is that you dress nicely for dinner. The other is that you do not masturbate on the deck.”

“I didn't think you noticed,” he said, as if I had been able to completely ignore him.

“I noticed, I just found it annoying so I ignored it. But that's not going to happen again,” I said.

“You don't think I'm attractive? Isn't that why you're taking me up to live with you, to be your bedroom fuck boy?” He was acting slutty, but he wasn't old enough, sophisticated enough, to hide the bitterness beneath.

“It is not. I'm bringing you to LA because your father asked me to. He is a friend. I did not bring you aboard to fuck you, and I'm not going to fuck you.”

He frowned. “You don't like me?”

“Not really, no,” I said candidly. “I am your guardian, that makes me your surrogate father, and I am not into incest. Would you have done that to your own father?”

“No,” he snapped.

“Then do not do it to me.”

“Or what?” he challenged.

“Well, if you are going to be difficult, I have a number of options available. The first is to call your father. Perhaps he needs to visit and explain things to you?”

“No!” he said, a look of horror in his eyes. He was scared of his father. Who wouldn't be?

“Fine. Quit being an asshole, and I will try to work things out just between us. Now go get some fucking clothes on,” I said as loudly as I could without yelling. Alejandro slunk off, his pout visible in his shoulders. JP emerged from the shadows. “So you were hiding until I was done dealing with that?”

He laughed. “Of course. I've fought enough battles with teenagers. It's your turn.”

“Battles eh? Who was the biggest challenge? Ace?” I asked. Ace had a major temper, but he'd finally gotten counseling, and that had helped him to control it. The new, calm person who had emerged was awesome.

“No, he just had those issues with his temper, and he didn't direct them at me.” He shook his head and laughed.

“What?” I demanded.

“I'm just laughing because there's only one answer, one clear answer to your question. I don't even have to think about it. Brad. He was the biggest challenge.”

“I have never found him to be challenging,” I said. “You only find him difficult to deal with because you two are so much alike.”

“Brad has very strong ideas about what is right and wrong, and he is willing to fight for those views. He is headstrong. That makes him tough. When his back is against the wall and he knows he is right, there really is no one more difficult.” He seemed to slip into deep thought about that for a minute. “I think I am more flexible than he is.”

“You are very flexible,” I teased.

“So are you. And maybe the reason you and Alejandro are butting heads is that he is like you,” JP observed.

“Alejandro? Like me?” I frowned at him. “You are calling me slutty?”

“Sometimes you are. You used to be a lot worse.” I stared at him, wanting to be mad at him, but finding it impossible.

“Maybe you are right.”

Alejandro came stomping back into the dining room and collapsed into his chair, irritated. I tried to channel my former self. “I am confused,” I told Alejandro.

“I'll bet,” he said.

“Do you want to know why?” I asked.

“No.”

“Well, I'm going to tell you anyway. I expected that you would be happy to leave your home and explore the world a little bit, to meet people like yourself, to be in an environment that was supportive of you and who you are. You do not seem happy to be here.”

“Whatever,” he said.

“No one is forcing you to be here. If you want to go home, say so, and we will turn the ship around.” I stated this factually, making sure I kept my tone even.

“Is this how it's going to be? You constantly threaten me with my father?”

“No. Because I am not going to put up with enough of this bullshit for it to be constant. You are wearing your welcome out quickly. Consider that,” I said, in the same non-emotional voice.

“What the fuck do you want from me? I don't get it. You don't want to fuck me; you don't owe my father money or favors. What is it? What do you want?” I smiled then. He was a little like me when I was 15, still bitter, still angry. He wanted to know what the price was and he hadn't figured it out yet.

“I told you that I asked you to stay with us as a favor to your father.” He started to argue but I raised my hand. “When I first met you, you seemed like a sad, tortured soul. I have been there, where you are. It is as if you are drowning and I am trying to throw you a life preserver. So you will either grab it and survive, or you will ignore it and drown. I can do no more than offer you a way out of the water.”

He stared at me for a few minutes and then we started eating. He downed a few bites, then stopped and stared at me again. “I will try to do better.”

“Excellent!” I said.

June 11, 1995

It was evening when a tired but relaxed trio arrived home in Malibu. Alejandro had been doing a little better, but he was still uptight, and that tension seemed to permeate his surroundings. Just when I get to a happy, serene place, I adopt a teenager to fuck it up. Cody and Max were waiting for us.

“Alejandro, this is Cody, and this is Max,” I said, introducing him.

“Hi,” he said, winking at Cody. Then he walked up to him and ran his hands across his abs.

Cody pushed him away. “Dude. What's your deal?”

“You're not gay?” Alejandro asked.

“Hell yeah I'm gay. So?”

“I never had this big of a problem getting men to fuck me in Mexico,” he said, frustrated.

“Well first of all, why would I want to fuck you? You don't even like yourself, so why should I?” Cody said. The rest of us watched him work his magic.

“I like myself,” Alejandro said defiantly.

“If you did, you wouldn't throw yourself at guys like a cheap whore. If your body is that worthless, I don't want it.”

“Maybe if you don't, he will,” Alejandro said, ogling Max.

“Not happening,” Max said. “What are you, 15?”

“I'll be 16 in October,” he said, his eyes flashing fire.

“Dude, if I fucked you, I'd go to jail,” Max said. “Age of consent in California is 18.”

“Yep,” Cody said. “You're only allowed to fuck around with guys as young as you are.”

“What kind of place is this?” Alejandro asked, frustrated. I couldn't help laughing at that.

“So you going to be living here?” Cody asked him in an in-your-face manner.

“Yeah. Are you?” the kid threw back.

Cody moved like a lion, fast and aggressively, and picked Alejandro up by his shirt and slammed him against a wall. “You give me any shit, and I'm gonna kick your ass up and down those stairs all day long you little fucker. You got that?”

Alejandro just stared at him defiantly. Cody pulled him back and slammed him against the wall again. “You got it?” he demanded.

Alejandro visibly deflated. “I got it.”

“You got a real attitude kid. I love guys like you. Piss me off and I'll be able to work all my frustrations out on you,” Cody said, glaring at him. Alejandro's look changed to terrified. He said nothing.

“We have another cruise ahead of us,” I said to the group. “I am going to hire someone to keep an eye on you.” That comment was directed at Alejandro.

“Don't waste your money Stef. I'll keep tabs on him,” Cody said, glaring at Alejandro.

“That's great,” I said. “Thank you Cody.” Turning to Alejandro, I said, “It seems you are in capable hands.” Alejandro looked at me, really worried now. “We are leaving for Alaska tomorrow.”

“That's fast,” Max said. I just smiled. It was fast, but I was anxious to get out of there and go back to my serene life. Cody could handle Alejandro. I'd make it up to him.

“Come on,” I said to Alejandro. “You need to meet Brad and Robbie. Try not to piss them off too.” He followed me obediently.

We found them in the kitchen and had a happy reunion. “So you're Alejandro?” Brad said. “I've heard a lot about you.”

“You have?” he asked.

“Yeah. They tell me you think you're an artist.”

“I am an artist,” he said with cocky self-assurance.

“What kind?” Brad asked.

“I paint.”

“Let's see if you're any good. Come on,” Brad said, and got up.

“Where are we going?” Alejandro asked. All of these big aggressive men around him were starting to cool his bitchiness down a bit.

“To my studio. Come on.” Alejandro shrugged and followed him up the stairs. Brad had a studio on the top floor of his house. It was a beautiful little room, with large sliding doors that opened up onto a balcony that overlooked the ocean. JP and I headed back to see Cody and Max.

“So where'd you get the little shit?” Cody asked.

“He is the son of a friend of mine. The man who got me out of Mexico,” I said. “He asked me to help the kid out. His life so far has not been pleasant.”

He laughed. “His life for the next few days isn't going to be pleasant either. Don't worry Stef. He just needs to learn a little respect. I have to break his will, make him my bitch, just like I did to Max.”

“Yeah right,” Max said. “You're going to pay for that one.”

“Now?” he asked. Max grinned and nodded. Then Cody leaned over and whispered something in Max's ear. Max smiled and nodded, and then both stood up abruptly. Max grabbed JP and tossed him over his shoulder, and Cody grabbed me and did the same thing, and they carried us upstairs and reminded us of what we were missing when we were away.

June 15, 1995

I stomped into the kitchen, frustrated, pissed off even. My plan to escape my house and get away from Alejandro had fallen by the wayside, and it was mostly JP's fault. He argued that it would be wrong to just dump the kid off and leave, that Alejandro needed to get to know all of us to be able to assimilate into our world. And that just pissed me off even more, since I knew he was right.

So for the first few days Alejandro and I just glared at each other. No real talking, no conversations, just glaring. And in a way, I think that finally broke through his barriers. If I wouldn't have been so irritated, I would have fallen for his pouty moods and spoiled him. Yesterday we'd had an epiphany. No meaningful conversations, no huge bearing of the souls, nothing like that. We'd just hung out together and had a good time.

“What are you watching?” I asked Brad. He was eating and staring at the television while he glanced through a stack of papers in front of him. He was a master at multi-tasking.

“The OJ trial. Check it out,” he said, pointing at the screen. The whole world seemed to be transfixed by this trial. It pulled in all the right flavors for a good drama. Racial tension, police brutality, celebrity, and murder. I was not impressed.

“Watching a bunch of lawyers argue is not my idea of a good time,” I said.

“Oh yeah? So what are you doing today? Where's JP?”

“JP is on the deck absorbed in some journal. I'm going to take Alejandro shopping, if he ever wakes up.” It was almost noon.

Brad laughed. “He was up late last night painting.”

“You were up with him?” Brad nodded. “So you are painting again?”

“Yeah,” he said. I stared at him, waiting for him to explain, but he didn't.

“Show me what you guys are working on,” I ordered.

“Hang on Stef,” he said frustrated, staring at the TV. “Check it out. They're going to make him try on the glove.”

“The glove?” I asked, confused.

“Yes the glove. Don't you read the papers? They found a glove at the murder scene. It's got Brown's and Coleman's DNA all over it and OJ's too.”

“That would seem to be damning,” I said, and turned to watch the screen.

We watched as Johnnie Cochran taunted, teased one of the prosecutors until they asked Simpson to try on the glove. He was wearing a rubber glove underneath, presumably for sanitary reasons. He put the glove on, using his limited acting skills to make it seem like a struggle. Still, it did seem to be awfully small on him. I certainly would never buy, or wear gloves that fit that badly. “It's too small,” Brad said.

“It seems that way,” I agreed. The prosecutor rambled on about how shrinkage from the liquids, presumably blood and water, would account for its tight fit, along with the rubber glove underneath, but the defense wasn't buying it.

Johnnie Cochran took the stage, which is what the floor of the courtroom really was, and gave a rousing description of how this proved OJ couldn't have done it. The man was an amazing performer. He charmed, he rhymed, he attacked, he relented. I stared at Brad and we laughed.

“He's like the legal version of Jesse Jackson,” Brad observed.

“So you say. Now can I see these paintings or do I have to wait for the verdict?” He rolled his eyes and led me upstairs.

Brad showed me Alejandro's paintings first. They were dark and brooding. One was of a man whose head was barely attached to his body, which was covered in blood. His vivid use of only reds and black made the scene compelling and disturbing at the same time. There was another one, much more abstract, but equally jarring. “He is very good,” I said. “His ability to generate an emotional response is quite amazing.”

Brad nodded. “You should see him when he paints. He immerses himself in it; more than anyone I've seen do that. You could probably set off fireworks and he wouldn't notice.” He studied the abstract one closer. “These cylindrical shapes,” he said, pointing at a long row of objects. “He said those represent bodies. And this earth, around it shows it as a mass grave.”

“It is hard to tell they are bodies. They have no distinguishing characteristics at all. It's as if they are just logs,” I said thoughtfully.

“Exactly,” Brad said. “Intense. A mass grave of nonentities, amorphous, faceless people.”

“He has seen some evil in his young life, I should think,” I said sadly. “And what are you doing?”

“Mine is simple and boring. Just the ocean.” I turned the painting so the light caught it.

“There are ghosts in the waves,” I said, pointing to the almost imperceptible shapes portrayed in the face of the wave.

“So there are,” he said simply.

“I do not like it when people look at my paintings,” Alejandro said petulantly, staring at us from the doorway.

I walked over and put my hand on his shoulder. “Well I am not just anybody, so I am allowed to look. You are very talented.”

“You think so?” he asked, and almost let a smile out.

“I do.”

“What do you know of art anyway?” he asked obnoxiously. Brad looked at me, waiting for my next move.

“Well, I am certainly not an expert, but I have seen enough to know what is good and what is not. There is a form of art I am an expert at. Come, I will show you,” I said.

“We're going to have sex?” he asked. Brad burst out laughing, tried to stop himself, but couldn't. I glared at him, but he was in hysterics, so I just ignored him.

“No we are not. We are going shopping.”

“I do not want to go shopping,” he said.

“I wasn't asking you, I was telling you. So go take a shower and make it fast.” Alejandro grumbled as he headed back to our house and his room.

“Stefan the sex artist,” Brad said, teasing. But he couldn't stop laughing. I just shook my head and left.

I dragged Alejandro down to Beverly Hills to my usual stomping grounds. “This is a nice car,” he said. “It doesn't fit you.”

“It does not fit me?” I joked, acting like I had no legroom.

“No. It is too stuffy.”

I sighed. “It belonged to my partner. He is dead now.”

“Was he stuffy?”

I laughed. “He was a powerful man and he wanted people to know it. This car, the ship, they are symbols of that power.”

“So your partner was a rich man. You dated him for his money?”

That really made me laugh. “Hardly. Of the two of us, I was richer. I made my money by investing in real estate and start-up companies. He was a Hollywood producer. Robbie took over his company after he retired.”

“You do not look like a high-powered businessman,” he said.

“Looks can be deceiving.” He shrugged. “What kind of car should I have?”

“Something small and sporty.”

“Well that's exactly what I had. I had a Porsche, but I gave it to Cody.”

“You give cars to men who fuck you?” he asked, snickering.

“No, I give cars to men I love. He is a good friend, and a good person. And you are lucky he does not kick your ass.”

Alejandro laughed. “He's not going to kick my ass. He's just pretending to be a tough guy. I made a deal with him though.”

“Oh? What kind of deal?”

“I promised that I wouldn't fuck around with a guy unless I got his permission.”

I nodded. “And what do you get in return?”

“When I turn 18, he's taking me away for a weekend and he's going to fuck me until I'm so sore I can't stand it.” I laughed at that.

“Cody is an amazing lover. You made a good deal.” We got to my favorite shop and my favorite clerk, Marte, was there. She was a riot, always friendly, always funny, and she always knew all the gossip.

We stood there chatting while Alejandro walked around the store. He came up and interrupted. “I do not like anything.”

I glared at him. “What is not to like? They have the best stuff in town here.”

“It's very nice. I'm sure it's great. But it's stuff for older guys. I'm 15. I'm not going to wear some Coogi sweater.” I felt my anger rising. He was embarrassing me in front of my friend, and insulting her shop at the same time.

“He is right Stefan,” Marte said. “Wait here.” She vanished briefly.

“You do not have to insult my friends,” I said to him in a low, but mean voice.

“I didn't mean to insult her. It's true though.”

Marte returned. “Come with me.” She led us out of her shop and we walked a few blocks down Rodeo Drive to another one. This one looked much more mod, much more hip.

“Rocky,” she said to a guy who looked a lot like Sylvester Stallone, “this is my best customer, Stefan Schluter. He needs something for this young man.”

“Gotcha covered,” he said. Then he turned to Alejandro. “Come on.”

“Thank you so much Marte,” I said.

“It was no problem. This is where the young people shop. You should look around too. Just don't forget about me.”

“Never,” I said. Still, I found a few pairs of jeans that made me look pretty sexy.

I saw Alejandro ogling Rocky and rolled my eyes at him. “You did not get permission.”

Alejandro laughed, the first time I think I'd ever seen him do that. “Cody would forgive me.”

We found some things in common, things that would finally start to build a bond between us. We both liked to shop, and we both appreciated attractive men. And for the first time, we actually had a good time together.