The Land Whore - 4. Chapter 4

February 7, 1973

LAX Airport is almost as chaotic as O'Hare, I thought as I wound my way to the baggage claim area. I was surprised to find a nervous-looking young man holding a sign with my name on it. I told Peter I'd take a cab, but he must have sent a car for me instead. I smiled, thinking about what a thoughtful guy he was.

“I'm Stefan Schluter,” I said, holding out my hand. The guy shook it and just said hi. Well, I guess it's unreasonable to expect excellent people skills in limo drivers. I found my bag and he carried it to the waiting limousine for me: big black Cadillac limousine with tinted windows. He held the door for me and I leaped in enthusiastically, excited to be in LA and even more excited to see Peter.

The sight that greeted me in the limo changed all that. I found myself face to face with a very angry Deke, and in his hand was a pistol. “Welcome to LA,” he said, and I felt a fist drive into my stomach. I doubled over in pain, vaguely conscious that the limo had started moving.

“You thought you could just come walking in and steal him away? Is that what you thought?” He was screaming at me. I felt another fist slam into me, this time in my side. I curled up in a fetal position to protect myself, but that didn't stop him, he just kept pounding on my back and sides. After what seemed like an eternity he stopped, and I cautiously looked up at him.

My body throbbed in pain, which was no surprise. Deke was tall and huge, looking like a Swedish bodybuilder, which was actually exactly what he was. His fists would leave bruises, but at least he hadn't broken any bones as far as I could tell. Yet. I felt tears flowing down my face and was pissed at myself for being weak, especially now, in front of him. I'd never seen him so enraged, so violent. It was very, very scary.

“Are you just trying to get back at me for leaving you for him?” he asked, the malice coating every word like gravy on Thanksgiving turkey. “I told you we were through. I got tired of you using me, taking advantage of me. I thought I left you and all of that bullshit behind when I headed to LA.” He thought I was still after him? What the fuck was that? I willed my mind to work quickly, to think of a way out of this.

“So what are you going to do to me?” I asked.

“I'm gonna take you up into the hills and toss you out of this car. I figure that a fall of a couple of hundred feet, you'll land on some rocks, and I won't have to worry about you ever again.” He was going to murder me. I put my head in my hands and sobbed fake tears. There was only one way out of this, and I was going to have to be a damn good actor. The only thing I had going for me is that Deke was not too bright.

“Good. Good. I don't want to go on living without you anyway,” I said, sobbing, using the pain he'd caused as the focus to create real tears. He had a satisfied look on his face, the look of someone who had guessed right. I got down on my knees in front of him. “Please Deke, please. Come back to the Bay with me. I miss you so much. No one can satisfy me like you can.”

I saw him mellowing. “Stef, I can't. I'm in love with Peter, and he's in love with me. Your trying to break us up, it's not going to work. I don't want to kill you, but you have to leave us alone.”

“Deke, it's so hard.” I moved closer to him and put my head in his lap between his two strong legs. “I'm trying to move on, but it's so hard.” I wanted to bite his leg, but that wouldn't do any good.

“Stef, I understand. I know what it's like to love someone and be rejected. Can't you please just accept that we're over?” Giving in now would be too easy. Even he'd be smart enough to see through me.

“I guess I can see that now. I guess I have no choice,” I said, sobbing. “Deke, before you kill me, can I ask you for one last request?”

“What?”

“Make love to me like you used to. Let me feel you inside me one more time. Please?” I begged.

“Stef, that will only make it harder for you,” he said.

“I know,” I said with my coquettish smile. I'd moved from pathetic, distraught lover to boy slut quickly...did I time it right? He smiled at me.

He pulled me up to his face and kissed me gently, like the Deke of old used to. I felt his hands caress my back and it took all of my self-control not to cringe as he touched the spots so gently that he'd touched so violently only a few minutes ago. His hands moved down to my ass and squeezed my cheeks and I moaned into his mouth as I moved my hand up to his zipper and took out his massive tool. I stroked it softly with my hands, then pulled away to look at it.

Deke had the biggest dick I'd ever seen, and I'd seen lots of them. We'd measured it once, and it was slightly over 9.5 inches long. And that was only part of it. It was almost as thick as my skinny arm. I opened my mouth wide and took him in as far as I could. He started moaning, enjoying my labors. My mouth hurt.

He pulled me up and kissed me again. “Stef, you're such an amazing lover. You're the only one who can take my cock and actually enjoy it.”

“Fuck me Deke. Let me show you how well I can take it,” I said lustily. I forced my mind to pretend it was someone else I was with, just like I'd done all those years ago in the Paris slums. I dug back for my rent boy mindset and fixed it into my brain. Now he wasn't Deke the ex-boyfriend planning to kill me. No, now he was some hung Swedish guy looking for a good time. I stripped off my pants seductively, and bent over in front of him to show him my hole. “Please Deke. Please.” I begged.

He moved up behind me and grabbed the lube I handed him and slathered it all over my ass. I felt his huge cockhead against my pucker and braced myself. Taking him was never easy. The first few minutes were going to hurt like hell. He pushed in fast and firm, and the pain flew through my body. I barely had time to turn my scream into a fake moan.

“You like that huh? You want this big dick?” He asked as he started slamming into me. I felt my body relax, willed it to relax, and did what I'd done in Paris. I did everything I could to maximize my pleasure, knowing that would automatically increase his as well.

“Oh yeah Deke. Oh yeah. You feel so good. I've missed you so much. No one can satisfy me like you. No one is man enough for me but you,” I cried. I could tell by his grunts that he was totally into it now so I just shut up and let him go for it.

“God Stef, you're gonna make me cum. I'm gonna blow in your ass. Oh God!” he yelled and I felt that thing expand in me even more as the paroxysms of his orgasm seized him. I stroked myself to make sure I came too, otherwise he wouldn't buy my lame act. It was the worst orgasm I'd ever had. After we were done we got dressed.

“Stef, I don't want to kill you. Can't you please just accept that we're through, that we can't be together. Go back to Palo Alto.”

I nodded. “Alright Deke, you made your point. I know now that it's hopeless. Still, you can always come visit me you know,” I said coquettishly.

“Maybe I will, but the rule is that I visit you, you don't visit me. Got it?” I nodded and hugged him lovingly, fighting down the bile in my throat. He told the limo driver to take me back to the airport, then he turned back to me and held me in a loving manner. It was anything but that to me.

We got to the airport and the limo stopped and the trunk popped open. “Try to be happy Stef,” he said as he opened the door.

“I will,” I said as I exited the limo, grabbed my bag, and ran into the airport bathroom to vomit out my guts.

The phone was ringing and ringing, and I was worried that he'd done something to hurt Peter. The I heard a very irritated voice, Peter's voice. “Hello?”

“Peter, it's Stefan,” I said, and I felt the tears start to flow. I tried to hide my face by huddling in the corner of the phone booth.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he asked angrily. I started sobbing now, really sobbing. “Stefan? Stefan? What's wrong? Where are you?” His anger vanished in a flash, replaced by genuine concern.

“Deke picked me up at the airport. Beat the shit out of me, threatened to kill me. God Peter, he even had a gun.”

“Stefan, I am so sorry. This is all my fault. I should have picked you up. Will you please wait there for me? I'm getting in my car as soon as I hang up.”

I nodded until I realized that he couldn't see me. “OK.” I looked around for a landmark and told him where I was.

I went into the bathroom to clean up my face and then went to sit on the benches near baggage claim. I thought about what had happened, and the more I thought about it, the more afraid I got. What if Deke was watching to see if I'd gotten on the plane? I felt myself shaking and forced my body to be still.

A nice older lady sat next to me and started up a conversation. I was so grateful to have her there. Deke wouldn't do anything to me in public. She became my life preserver. When she got up to leave, I almost panicked. Fortunately, I was saved from that by Peter's presence. He rushed up to me and pulled me into a big hug. I collapsed into his arms, feeling safe again. I didn't want to let go and he didn't either.

My normal mindset took over and I realized that we were making a scene and that if he was recognized, this could go badly for him. “Peter, people might see us hugging.”

“I don't care. I only care that you are OK,” he said. Now I know that he's a good actor, but this was about as genuine as it gets when he's ready to throw away his career for me.

I pulled away from him, forced him to let me go. “I'm OK now that you're here.” We headed out to his car with my bag while I looked around nervously, expecting to see Deke. “Peter, he won't leave me alone. He'll find me and he'll kill me. We're not safe, neither of us.”

“Stef, we'll be fine. Trust me,” he said.

“Peter, I do trust you, but you have to listen to me. He's not sane. He's not all there.” I could tell he still didn't get it. I stopped in the middle of the parking lot and lifted my shirt. The bruises on my back were already black and blue. He gasped.

“What should we do?” he asked, now fully aware of the situation. There was one person and only one person who could think clearly enough in a crisis to handle this one.

“I need to call JP,” I said. He looked at me quizzically, but nodded. JP had bailed him out before. I needed his clear thinking.

I called Escorial, but he was on campus, so I tracked him down there. He was in class, but I told them it was an emergency so they pulled him out of it. He'd be pissed as hell, but I couldn't help it.

“What is it?” he asked angrily as I got on the phone.

I stuttered my story out as quickly as I could. “JP, I'm so sorry to interrupt you. I just do not know what to do, and you're the best person in a crisis. Please do not be mad at me.” I let him talk for the first time in 5 minutes.

“I'm not mad at you, I'm glad you called me. Here's what you're going to do. Get on the next flight to San Francisco, the very next one. Call and leave a message here and tell me which one it is and I'll be there waiting for you, got it? And tell Peter to come with you. That's not negotiable. Fuck his party.”

“OK,” I mumbled, and hung up.

“What did he say?” Peter asked.

“He said we're supposed to catch the next plane to the City.”

Peter looked conflicted. “I can't leave. I've got a lot of work to do.”

“JP says you have to come with me. He said, let me see if I can remember his exact words. He said ‘tell Peter to come with you. That's not negotiable. Fuck his party.’ He was pretty clear.”

Peter laughed. “Yes he was.” An hour later we were headed to San Francisco. We didn't talk on the plane, we just sat there with Peter holding and stroking my hand. I asked for a blanket to cover them up so no one could see.

We got off the plane to find both JP and Sam waiting for us. Sam looked pissed, really pissed, while JP had no expression on his face at all. That's how they were. Sam, with his boisterous Italian-American background, always with his feeling and his temper on his shirtsleeves. JP, more WASPy than anything, with a stoicism that would do credit to one of the guards at Buckingham Palace.

Sam came forward first and gave me a big hug, which made me cringe in pain. “Stef, I'm so sorry,” he said.

“It's fine big guy. It's nice to feel your strong arms,” I said, teasing him. He smiled at me.

“Welcome back Peter. Stefan, you scare the shit out of me sometimes, you know that?” JP said. He loved me. I winked at him, he rolled his eyes at me. “Come on guys, let's go back to Escorial and you can tell me what happened.”

We got to the limo and Rafael greeted me with a friendly nod and a concerned look. “Thanks for coming to pick me up,” I said to him. It's funny how now that we understood each other, there was a friendly bond there, and even he was protective of me.

As soon as we were in the car and the door was closed Sam pulled my shirt off. “Do we have time for this?” I asked playfully, but they weren't in a mood for jokes. My back hurt like hell, and it was really bruised. Sam ran his hand gently over it and I saw a tear fall down his cheek. A tear of rage. He loved me too. Anyone who even slightly knew JP could see that he was pissed, and that was saying something if it made it through his thick walls.

They made me retell my story, only this time I didn't leave out any of the details. “He raped you?!” Sam cried, almost beside himself. JP put a hand on his arm to calm him down.

“Not exactly. I knew that the only way he'd let me go is if I confirmed his belief that I was there for him, not Peter, and that this thing between us was just a fling to get Deke back, and not something more.” I looked at Peter and that last phrase got me a sparkling smile. “You know me,” I said to JP, “If I was truly after him, I would have fucked him. I had to keep up the act.” JP actually giggled at that, getting a dirty look from Sam and Peter.

“You're not safe as long as he's around,” said JP. “Either of you. But as far as he knows you headed home Stefan. Your absence will surprise him Peter, but I think it would be dangerous for you to be in LA right now.” Peter nodded. “The natural thing to do here would be to call the police.” Everyone blanched at that but JP put his hand up to stop the protests forming on everyone's lips. “I don't think that's a good idea. First of all, it would cause you, uh, problems Peter. And it would certainly be traumatic for Stefan. And quite frankly, I don't think they'd really give a shit about a gay guy getting beaten up by his ex-lover.” Society's ill will could be dangerous. I gave JP the license plate of the limo and a description of the other guy who had driven.

JP seemed deep in thought. “Let's just relax for a day or two, OK?” I want to try and think of a way out of this, for both of you. He deftly reminded Peter that he was involved and had problems too, and basically forbade him to go home for awhile.

We got back to Escorial and when the gates closed behind us, I exhaled in relief. This place was a sanctuary. I headed straight for the shower to wash off any traces of Deke and the horrible experience, and to let the water sooth my bruised back. Peter had to go call his agent. I was just finishing up when the shower door opened and Peter walked in. “I'm so sorry,” he said. “You got hurt because of me. If I wouldn't have ended it with Deke so abruptly, if I'd come to the airport to get you like I should have...I was so worried that I'd make a scene when I saw you.”

“It's not your fault Peter. It is not. You were, you are there for me, and that's really all that matters. I pulled his lips to mine and kissed him, begging him to show me that he loved me.

“I don't want to hurt you baby,” he said as I turned away from him, exposing my willing hole.

“Just be gentle like only you know how to be,” I said. “I need to feel your love Peter. It will help heal me.” I cringed when I realized I didn't need any lube since I'd just gotten fucked by Deke this morning. But when he entered me, it was a salve to my soul. I stood up and leaned back into him while his hands moved slowly and gently over my body, and he thrust into me with the same rhythm. It was almost hypnotic, it was like a balm. I felt myself relaxing into him, giving myself to him, and then I felt the connection. Then we were linked. I smiled when we finished. Within just a few hours I'd had the worst and the best orgasm of my entire life.

February 10, 1973

We'd just finished our first argument and I'd won. Peter's agent had been putting serious pressure on him to come to this party, and he was about to give in when I talked him out of it. Talk was probably too nice of a word. So now he sat on the other side of the bed, pouting in his own way.

I walked over and knelt in front of him. “Peter, if you really wanted to go, if you really thought it would impact your career, I would have supported you 100%, even gone with you. Since it is not, I don't want to risk you getting hurt. I could not stand it if something happened to you.”

He relented and smiled. “You're right. And you're too cute for me to stay mad at you. This is going to be a problem. I'm going to lose all of our fights.”

“So you think we have a future?” I said coyly.

“I know we do,” he said firmly.

“We do,” I said back to him, just as firmly. I had tried to think of a witty rejoinder, but I didn't want to. I wanted to tell him that I loved him, but I was worried that I was wrong, like I'd been wrong in the past, and I'd say it before I was sure. Then I smiled to myself for my mental masturbation. That was just a cover. The real reason I was afraid to tell him is that I didn't want to be rejected.

He pulled me up to his mouth and kissed me, and the link was there immediately. He didn't say it, I didn't say it, but we both knew it. And for the first time we truly made love, and it was glorious.

We lay there in the bed, spent but connected, intertwined on the bed. I decided to tease him a little bit. “Peter, have you ever been in love before?” I asked.

“You mean before now?” He asked me, then laughed. He was being so cute, dodging the issue with his comedic personality. No wonder this guy was a star.

“Yeah. Besides me,” I said.

“Not really. There have been a few guys who I was close to falling in love with if I'd given the relationship more time. JP was one of them.”

“For me as well. I'm not sure if I really have,” I said honestly. If I compared what I felt with Peter to all the others, they just didn't compare.

“Until me,” he corrected.

“Until you,” I said, and snuggled up to him.

We were interrupted by a knock on the door. I got up an opened it up and it was JP, which was good since I was stark naked and so was Peter. “Welcome,” I said alluringly. He just shook his head.

“I wanted to show you something. I found this in the paper this morning,” JP said, handing me a copy of the LA Times. There was a small header on page 6 that announced the drowning death of Daniel Erikson. Deke. He drowned? How the hell did that happen? He was a good swimmer, but he didn't get in the water that often. I read on. It said that he was found ashore in Santa Monica. The autopsy hadn't determined whether the cause of death was drowning or hypothermia.

A tear rolled down Peter's face and I held him while he cried. JP and I would have a talk about this later on. He caught my eye, left the paper, and strolled out of the room. I wasn't aware that Peter had stopped crying and was looking at me. “You think his death wasn't accidental,” he accused.

I felt a huge conflict of loyalty. Do I tow the party line and protect JP, or do I open up to Peter? I chose the latter, something I never would have done in the past. “I'm not sure. It's awfully convenient. I mean, we have this dilemma and then suddenly he decides to go swimming in February? Makes no sense.”

“You think JP did it. Had it done?” I said nothing. “You going to ask him if he did”

I studied Peter carefully. “JP is incredibly careful and deliberate. If I ask him, he will say no. He will do it for two reasons. One, so it cannot be traced back to him, and two, so I will not be tempted to hate him.” He digested this. “If I push him further, he will just act like I'm being paranoid or hysterical and calmly answer my questions with perfect answers.”

“Why was he reading an LA Times paper this morning?” Peter asked.

“He'd say he bought it for you and decided to skim through it. He's gotten you one every day since you got here.” Peter thought about that. Either it was coincidence or it was a well thought out plan.

“What about Deke swimming in February?” Peter shot back.

“He will tell me that anyone who beat the shit out of me like Deke did was obviously screwed up. He probably could not take it any more and killed himself. Then he will make it seem like I was giving a nutcase more trust than I was giving him.”

“Shit,” said Peter. “You know Stefan, you're as smart as he is.”

Where did that come from? “Nonsense. If I was, I would have solved this problem myself and maybe Deke would still be alive.”

“So you're saying that since we brought him into this we have no right to question his actions or motives?” he asked.

“Yes, that is what I am saying. Where would it get us anyway? We'd just end up being pissed at him, and I do not want to be pissed at him. We're too connected, especially with the kids. And what would I want from him? An apology? He would not mean it. He loves us Peter. He was protecting us. He can be ruthless when it comes to protecting the people he loves. Seems he took a pretty big risk with a fire hydrant some time back.”

Peter lay there thoughtfully. “I understand. Let's make love again. Can we?” I giggled. He was asking me?

February 12, 1973

Peter was back in LA and Sam left this morning for Portland. He was working on some project with a guy in Eugene, and wanted to finalize things in person. I was lonely when I woke up. I'd gotten used to having Peter there, so I got out of bed and snuck down to JP's room and climbed in bed with him. He was even more adorable when he was asleep. I remember when he'd asked me to teach how to get fucked, and now he was a pro. I snuggled up behind him and ran my hands across his nipples and down his chest to his throbbing morning wood. My dick was positioned perfectly at the entrance of his hole, so when he instinctively moaned and moved back into me, I popped right in him.

He woke up alarmed until he turned around and saw me. “You scared the shit out of me,” he said.

“And now I'm going to fuck the shit out of you,” I said with a laugh, and he forgot all about his fear. The most amazing thing about making love to JP is not his body, which is cute but really nothing special, it's how he uses it. He really gets into sex, really enjoys it. Getting JP to open up in normal situations is like pulling teeth. Get him in bed and put a dick in his ass, and he goes nuts. It was exciting to see him cut loose, to relax, to leave the stress behind for a bit. It was great to make him happy.

“What a nice surprise,” he said as we enjoyed the afterglow.

“I love being with you JP,” I said.

“And I love being with you,” he said happily.

“I know what you did in LA. Thanks for taking care of the problem for me, for taking care of me. I know I can always count on you.” I said. I wanted him to know I wasn't stupid and that I can put 2 and 2 together, but I also wanted him to know I wasn't mad at him. I'm not sure if I was or not, but I wasn't about to throw that at him. In typical JP fashion, he said nothing.

I headed to the office to meet with Luke. I dragged him off to lunch so we could eat and chat at the same time. I'd worked up an appetite in the morning.

“Show me what you've got,” I said to him.

“Shouldn't you have asked me that when we were still at the office?” he said and cracked me up. Then he got to business. “Here's a prototype plan for evaluating potential companies. I figure we can develop a matrix to identify their strengths and weaknesses. Some weaknesses, like accounting and financial problems, we can fix. Others, like strategy and management, may be harder or impossible to overcome.” I looked at his plan, his prototypes, and it was amazing.

“What's the other binder for?” I asked.

“That's the business plan for Carruthers and Schluter Venture Capital partners. I guess that was pretty presumptuous to put my name first. I'll reverse the order.” He handed me the binder and I saw that he'd used his own prototype and perfectly evaluated his own project. It took me 15 minutes to read the plan and make a decision. He wanted an initial investment of $300,000 to fund the firm itself, and a 15% stake as a reward for running the show in addition to a reasonable salary. There was a letter of intent included and I signed off on it without saying a word.

“You're an amazing businessman, and when we get back to the office you can show me what an amazing man you are,” I teased. “Seriously Luke, this is incredible. Have the attorneys work up the incorporation papers and get the agreements together. In the meantime, you're off real estate duty and on to venture capital. And the name stays as it is. You'll have to work harder since your ass is front and center.” I'd made my name in real estate. I'd much rather him get the satisfaction and pride than to get another ego stroke myself at his expense.

“Thanks Stefan. I don't know how to thank you, well,” he leered, “you know what I mean. What a fantastic opportunity you're giving me.”

“You are right, I am giving you a great opportunity. It's up to you to make it work, but you have earned that right. Good luck.” When we got back to the office he showed me his true appreciation in his hot, yet methodical way. Leave it to him to come up with an organized matrix for evaluating companies. No one could ever accuse Luke of being disorganized.