The Land Whore - 13. Chapter 13

May 18, 1973

We reconvened in the boardroom at 2PM. Jim came in without his managers, and his father had neglected to attend this meeting as well.

“What you said about the senior managers has some truth to it, but rather than create any additional rancor, I left them out of this meeting,” Jim said.

“Thanks Jim. I'm sorry if I was hard on that guy, but sometimes people spend so much time trying to divide the pie up they stop baking new ones.” JP's cute analogy got a smile from Jim.

“I've thought about your proposals, and I'm going to do both of them. I'm going to recalibrate the bonus system as you recommended, which should stop the other BMs from complaining. And I'm going to take you up on your offer to buy out Crampton California with half your stock. I want to cut Isidore loose, not because I don't have faith in her or because I don't think she'll do a great job, but I just don't want to have another issue like this that could upset our family.”

“Thanks Jim. I appreciate that.”

“I'm going to draw up some contracts to that effect, and we'll get them to you within a week or two. In the meantime, Isidore can begin to plan for the separation. I'm hoping that we can still remain affiliated if we have a need in California, or she has one elsewhere.”

“I'm sure she'd be more than willing to talk to you about that,” I said. “Why don't you come out and visit when you get a chance. The two of you can work things out personally.”

“I'll think about it. In the meantime, I have drafted a letter of understanding for us to sign, and Isidore to sign when you get home, in advance of a more detailed agreement.” He handed the brief paper to JP.

“As for you,” he said, looking at me, “you are right. You have done well for us. I want you to keep me in the loop as you go forward. We still may want a piece of your deals.” I grinned and nodded.

JP signed the papers and we all hugged, and with that the matter was settled. We went back to pick up our bags and Armand, and prepared to head out of town.

“We've got a little bit of time,” JP said. “Let's drive around and see what's changed around here.” JP drove downtown and headed east. Downtown, once thriving, was drying up. Other than the mill, the government offices, and Crampton Construction, it was deserted. The east side was more blighted than ever, and even the west side was starting to look decayed. We both felt it, the decay and the decline of our hometown, caught in the middle of a bad economy and foreign competition. The future was pretty bleak and the people seemed to know it. We were all glad to get out of there and get back to California.

We got the usual enthusiastic greeting from the kids when we got home, and JP went off to find Sam and Isidore to bring them up to speed on his success. I found an irritated Jason waiting for me.

“There are a lot of things waiting for you,” he said with a sheaf of papers in hand.

I smiled at him. “Let us go through them. I am leaving for Malibu tomorrow and I want you to come with me.”

“I can't possibly leave everything at this point!” he exclaimed.

“I want you to head up the broker/dealer and the investment operations. It pays well, but it's based in Los Angeles.” He stared at me, excited and worried.

“I don't know what to say,” he said. “I don't know if I'm up to it.”

“I think you are. You can stay in my house in Malibu for as long as you want. Josh is good, but he's young, and he'll need your guidance and supervision to be successful. I need to be here.”

“But what will you do without me?” he asked. I giggled.

“I'll have to find a new protégé.” Armand came into the room and I introduced them. “Armand wants to be a movie star,” I said, teasing him.

“I think I would be good at it,” he asserted.

“We will see. In any event Jason, you will have someone else to watch. Armand is coming to Malibu too.”

May 20, 1973

Jason and Josh hit it off right away, which was a complete relief. I'd spent yesterday with them, setting things up, and I'd gone up to spend the night with Peter after that. It was actually very nice. We made love and it was great, and we talked like two friends would. I felt that we'd achieved a balance after the initial ride of passion.

I knocked on the huge doors to Jackie Diamond's palace, Armand in tow. The butler ushered us into her office. She was dressed as gaudily as ever, but she jumped up and poured on the fake charm as soon as she saw me. We gushed over each other, and then I introduced her to Armand. She saw him and caught her breath.

“Well aren't you a little looker?” she said.

“Thank you,” he said politely, with a bright smile and a twinkle of the eye. “I am in good company.”

“And a charmer to boot. So what do you want me to do with you?

I intervened. “He likes show business and has the looks. He needs someone to evaluate his talents and guide him in the right direction. I'm wondering if you could do that.”

She studied him carefully. “You get your stuff together and you come stay with me for a week. At the end of that time, I'll tell you whether you have potential or not.”

He just nodded and smiled. “It looks like I am once again indebted to you,” I said.

“A few more favors and I'll own your soul,” she said jokingly. Or was it?

“But I am already putty in your hands.”

She rolled her eyes. “Enough. I have things to do. I'll see you next weekend. There's a big party you won't want to miss.”

Armand and I left and headed back to the beach to get his things. I looked at him carefully. “There are things you are going to have to do to make it in this business, you know that, right?”

“You mean I will have to fuck people?” he said.

“Yes. Men and women. And some will not be very attractive, inside or out. I want you to know that you do not have to have this life. You can do other things instead that do not require you to hire out your body.”

“I knew that was part of the deal Stefan. But you have trained me well.” He said it with a smile, but it grated on me.

“I do not want you to do something you do not want to. You want out, you want someone to ride to your rescue, you just call me. OK?”

He smiled. “I got it. Thanks for worrying about me. I will be fine.”

“One more thing, something I learned a long time ago. If you want to be good in bed, you have to enjoy yourself. Not fake it, but really enjoy it. That means you have to be able to separate your body and your mind, to tell yourself that you're with someone else, or whatever it takes. If you are not enjoying yourself, your partner is not going to either.” He digested my words, but our conversation was cut short when we got back to Malibu.

I talked Josh into taking Armand back to Jackie's house, so after some tearful goodbyes, Jason and I were alone, looking out at the beach. “I won't let you down Stefan,” he said.

“It never even crossed my mind,” I said to him, and I found that I meant it.

May 21, 1973

I'd taken yet another day off today, but fortunately Jason wasn't around to chide me. Tomorrow I would be swamped, but today I had blocked off to sort of redirect myself. I'd avoided Roger for quite awhile now. I hadn't seen him since before I went to Paris; he didn't even know about Armand. He had been pissed at me when I'd called him after Paris, but the last two times he'd just been noncommittal. That worried me; it worried me that maybe I'd lost him. And even with all of these trips and my romp with Armand, that told me that even though I couldn't be monogamous, I didn't want to lose him.

The Porsche bounced ferociously on the road to the winery so I slowed down to almost a crawl. I wandered around, looking for Roger. He wasn't in the winery and he wasn't in his house. I went out to the garage and saw that his truck was gone. I should have called first. That's what I get for trying to surprise him. I went into his house and found a paper and pencil and got ready to write a note when I heard the roar of his truck.

I headed out to the winery where I heard voices, plural. I turned the corner and there was Roger with a young guy, probably 19 or 20, blond and pretty cute in a country boy kind of way. I felt a searing pain rip through my chest, an anguish that was unfamiliar to me. It was caused by the thought of Roger with this guy. It was jealousy. What the fuck was that all about?

Roger spotted me and smiled, then frowned, then smiled again.

“Stef!” he said, and came over to hug me and give me a big kiss. I peeked at the young kid, who looked aghast. “It's great to see you!”

“It's great to see you too big guy,” I said.

He looked toward the young guy and introduced us. “Stefan, this is Bobby. Bobby, this is Stefan.” He took my hand cautiously, like I had the plague.

I laughed. “Do not worry, it's not catching.” He blushed and relaxed a bit.

“I, uh, I'm sorry. I guess I'm just a little surprised,” he said pleasantly.

“So I guess this means you're not sleeping with my boyfriend?” I asked him.

“No,” he said emphatically, “I mean, not that he's not a good guy and all, uh, but, uh, I'm just not, uh, into other guys.” He was blushing three shades of red, and I just started laughing.

“But if you were, you'd try to fuck him, is that what you're saying?” I said, now obviously teasing him.

He finally figured out that I was playing with him. He pivoted Roger and looked at his ass. “Yeah, if I was gay, I'd do him.” We all cracked up.

“Well, it's nice to meet you Bobby. And now I'm going to steal him away from you for awhile.” I grabbed Roger's hand and dragged him to the house while he shot instructions to Bobby over his shoulder.

I got inside the house and shut the door and then I was in his arms, his lips on mine, our bodies meshed together.

“I missed you,” he said.

“I missed you too.”

“You still mad at me?” he asked.

“Yeah, I am,” I said honestly, surprising myself.

“I'm kind of mad at you too, but I guess you have more of a right to be pissed than me.”

I studied him and those pretty eyes of his. “You're mad at me for avoiding you. I'm avoiding you because you will not let me in; tell me what's going on inside that gorgeous head of yours. And until you do, our relationship is stuck in limbo and it will not go forward.”

“So you think our relationship can go forward?” he said with a smile.

“I'm here am I not? I mean, I did not drive all this way just for the fantastic sex, which I’ve not gotten yet, by the way.”

He laughed and pulled me into his arms. “Let's fuck, and then talk.” And then he turned into that animal that I loved, working to take off my clothes so fast he actually tore my shirt. He tossed me on the bed and jumped on top of me, grinding into me with an urgency that told me he'd been faithful to me even though I hadn't been faithful to him. The feel of his strong body, his calloused hands, the smell of his sweat and musk, and the sound of his panting and moaning was an assault on my senses that I couldn't resist. I felt my orgasm boiling up and we shot together, our cum lubricating our bodies as we continued to writhe together and finish our climax.

He collapsed on top of me, pinning me, our drying cum sealing us together like mortar on bricks. I stroked his hair, letting him take his time to think about things, letting him decide if he really wanted to open up to me.

“I'm a fag, 100% gay,” he said. Tears rolled down his cheeks and fell on my chest. I just held him and let him cry.

“I'm glad you are,” I said. He looked up at me, alarmed, and then he realized what I was saying. “If you were not gay, you would not be here with me now.”

“My father is in jail because I'm gay,” he said, dropping the other shoe. I had learned his pattern. He'd throw these statements out and let us both digest them before he went on. I just waited. And waited. I looked at the clock on the wall. It took him 30 minutes to add the next line.

“He caught me and a friend of mine blowing each other. He shot Jimmy, my friend, and killed him.” Holy shit, I thought. No wonder he was so reluctant to face his demons. And then it came out. All of the repressed emotions, they all flowed out. “I loved him Stefan. I loved him so much. He was my world. And my father killed him. Dead! He's dead! And I couldn't even go to his funeral. Then there was the trial, where my father told the whole world that I was gay, that he caught me with another dick in my mouth. And I was only 15 years old.”

“I didn't even know if I was really gay or not, but I was out and visible after that. I got my ass kicked in school, and my mother sent me off to live with my grandfather after that. He acted like he was disgusted with me, but he made me work on the farm and learn the wine business. It wasn't until his last year that we finally got some peace between us.”

“It's hard to let my guard down. I can't handle much shock. I can't stand to lose someone I love. And that word, 'gay', that's the keystone of this whole disaster. If I wasn't gay, Jimmy would be alive and my dad wouldn't be in jail.”

“That's ridiculous,” I said, finally talking. “You are who you are. The fact that your father was such an intolerant bastard that he could not accept that is not your fault, it's his. He's responsible for Jimmy's death and his own incarceration, not you.”

He cried, sobbed, and I held him and held him for a couple of hours, letting him vent his pain and sadness. I felt bad for him; sorry for his past, but I'm glad I forced him to open up. It explained so much about him, so much about who he was.

“I swore I'd never fall in love again Stef. I swore I'd be alone, a tower of strength, an island. But I failed. I failed with you.”

“You failed with me? How?” I didn't understand what he was saying.

“I love you,” he said, and kissed me on the lips. And I felt his lips, felt his body, felt his pain and happiness, felt his soul, and I understood my anxiety when I'd seen him with Bobby.

“I love you too,” I told him. And I meant it. He turned me over on my stomach and I felt his massive body on top of me, entering me slowly and gently. Just as I was about to surrender to his ministrations, I looked out the window. There was Bobby, hiding in the shadows and looking through the window. I could see him in the reflection, but he thought he was hidden. He had a good sized dick, and he had it out and was stroking it. If he was so straight, why was he outside watching two guys fuck and getting off on it? I filed that away in my memory bank and let Roger work his magic as he brought us to a major orgasm, and presumably Bobby too.

May 25, 1973

I had a fantastic week with Roger. We clicked like we never had. Apparently he'd hired Bobby to help around the winery, which was fine, but there was something about that kid that bothered me. I'd caught him watching us fuck a few other times. I don't mind an audience, but with him it was creepy. A straight guy that gets off on watching other guys fuck? And his attitude, his manner toward Roger wasn't on a par with a hired hand and his boss. If I had to guess, I'd say they knew each other for awhile, although both of them denied it.

Still, his openness to me had eroded my suspicions. Besides, who cares if he fucks Bobby? It's not like I wasn't going to sleep with other people too. I shoved those doubts out of my mind and basked in the glow of being in love, and being well-fucked.

I had an interview this morning for a new assistant. I was really lost without Jason around, and the staff kind of rolled their eyes at my relative ineffectiveness. So the lady that handled HR took the liberty of screening some candidates for me, and finally found one that she thought I'd like. Phillipe Carbonneau, who looked to be about 25 years old. Born and raised in Canada, he'd moved to the US to play hockey. I hoped he hadn’t taken too many hits to the head.

He walked into my office and I smiled at him, trying to put him at ease. He grinned shyly, which was a shame, because he had the kind of face that would look good with a big smile. He was about 6'1” tall, with dark hair, either dark brown or black depending on the light, with a very square jaw and a crooked nose. He was handsome, really handsome, in a rugged manly kind of way. He walked over to shake my hand, walking like a sailor. I guess skating did that to you.

We got through all of the niceties. He was wearing a suit, but his shirt was tight enough to outline his hard body, a body conditioned for professional sports. His legs and ass bulged in his tight pants, showing the same attention to fitness in his lower extremities.

“So why do you want to work for me?” I asked.

“I need a job, and I think I could do well here. I'm organized, efficient, and totally loyal.”

“What do you see yourself doing ten years from now?” I asked.

“I don't have any big, burning ambitions, if that's what you mean. I played pro hockey, fucked, er, sorry, I mean screwed up my knee, and now I'm kind of at a loss as to what to do. If I can find a place to be comfortable, make a good living, I'll be happy. Is that a problem for you? Were you looking for someone with a lot of ambition?”

I smiled at him. “Actually, that can be a detriment in this position. My assistants that have lots of ambition usually worry more about their next step than my needs. And you can say fuck, it's OK.”

That got a grin, a marvelous grin that transformed him. “Good. I'm not always good at watching my mouth, at least around other guys.”

“Speaking of that, I need to be candid with you. I'm gay. I need you to be OK with that if you're going to work for me.”

He smiled again and it hit me like a typhoon. “I know you're gay. That's one of the reasons I applied here. I was hoping there might be some fringe benefits to the job.”

I moved around the desk and stood in front of him. “Sometimes there are, if you earn them.” He ran his hands up my legs and across my crotch, making me hard in a flash. He took my dick out and started sucking on me like a pro. In no time at all, he had me blowing down his throat.

“Wow. You are very good at that,” I said. He just smiled. Then I dropped to my knees and took his hard tool out. He was about six and a half inches long, but pretty thick. The perfect kind of dick to suck. I returned the favor, taking in his smell which had that sweaty, hockey bag odor added to his sweet musk and a slight amount of body odor. The combination sounds disgusting, but mixed together, it was an aromatic cocktail. He grabbed my head and started fucking my face, being careful not to choke me, and then he blew his load. Some guys taste good, some bad, some just OK. This guy tasted great.

“Does this mean I'm hired?” he asked.

“Absolutely. I'm leaving for Los Angeles in a few hours, but I will be back on Monday. Plan to start then.”

“Sounds great,” he said, and then he leaned in and kissed me, a nice kiss, a good kiss. Wow. What a hottie.

Rafael picked me up to take me to the airport, and I was surprised to find Roger waiting in the car for me. “I thought I'd ride with you to the airport.”

“What a nice surprise,” I said. The privacy screen was up and our clothes were off. He was on top of me, and I rolled over, begging him to fuck me. I didn't tell him that I was still spent from Phillipe, but he wouldn't know the difference. He penetrated me frantically, and drove me nuts with his strength and enthusiasm. He made our session last a long time, long enough for me to recover and cum with him. We lay there, panting, trying to catch our breath, when I looked out and saw the airport. Rafael knew me by now, so he drove around until I was ready to get out.

“Hey Stefan,” Roger said as I was getting dressed. “Remember how you said I could buy into the winery? Can we talk about that when you get back?”

I suddenly felt really bad about letting that lapse and stringing him along. “I'm sorry Roger. We should have dealt with that a long time ago. As soon as I get back, we will work something out, OK?”

He smiled and kissed me as the limo pulled up to the airport. “I love you,” he cooed in my ear.

“I love you too,” I said, and then I was off to my other life.

I read the latest Time magazine on my trip to LAX. Watergate dominated the news, but the President got a break this week as the focus switched to Britain. They'd almost started a war with Iceland over cod, with warships ramming each other and shit like that. Britain and Iceland at war? Was it possible? Probably not, but it did sound kind of funny. Then a couple of peers, Lords Lambton and Jellicoe, were forced out of Parliament after they were exposed having affairs with call girls. I smiled. That would never happen in France, and it was really hard to picture Richard Nixon banging anyone, even Pat.

The flight landed on time, remarkably, but it was rush hour so we slogged up the Pacific Coast Highway with Josh driving and Jason yammering at me about this detail or the other. The bottom line was that they had managed to sell out our first deal in two days with no help from me. There was a big party this weekend and I was taking both of them, so we should wrap up the next three there. Business was good.

I got to the house in Malibu and retired to my room and called Jackie.

“You in town baby?” she asked.

“Of course I am. Did you not ask me to be here for the party?” I teased.

She laughed. “Your cousin is a little hottie. I've got him started on a few modeling assignments, then we'll get him some acting lessons and break him into the movies. He'll be a heartbreaker with that French accent.”

“That's great Jackie. Thank you so much.”

“Remember that you owe me, although to be honest, you're doing me a favor. Henry's been chasing him around all week and that's kept him out of my hair.” We both laughed, but I hoped Armand was OK.

“Can he spend the weekend in Malibu?” I asked.

“Sure, but when you're not in town, I want him here, got it?”

“Got it. I will send someone up to pick him up.”

Josh grumbled a little bit when I sent him off, but only a little bit. Jason took that opportunity to corner me.

“Josh has done really well Stefan,” he said. “He really has the hang of this. My job has been to stay in the shadows and make sure things are set up, and he's turned into the front man.”

“If that's how you want it, it sounds good to me. Although do not forget about the starlets Jason. You have something they're bound to want.” He smirked at me and blushed at my reference to his huge dick. “Careful or they will have you doing porno movies.” We both laughed at that.

I was tired, very tired, so I headed to my room and cracked the window, letting the sound and smell of the surf flow into my room. I dozed off, only to be awakened by a body falling on top of me. Armand.

“Hey,” I said groggily.

“Hey Stef,” he said in English. “It is good to see you.”

“Have they been treating you well?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Pretty well. I had to fuck Henry Wilson a few times, but I also got to do a few other guys, hot ones too.”

“Oh really? Who?”

“Rock Hudson, John Bartlett, and Peter Gordon,” he said with a smile. So he'd gotten to Peter. That made me laugh.

“They're good guys,” I said. “You OK with things? You're not doing stuff you do not want to do are you?”

“Hell no. I love it here, and Jackie says my career has real potential. Plus I get laid all the time. What could be better?”

I smiled. I had been trying to figure out what could be better for a long time. Was Roger better? Had Peter been better? They were better if I wasn't constrained to just them. Still, I envied Armand his freedom. Not the freedom to fuck around, the freedom to fall in love.

He snuggled up next to me and we dozed off, both enjoying a respite from our hectic lives. I wonder if I'm one of those people who are always looking for the next trick, the next love. I wonder if the new and the fresh outdo the old and stable in my psyche. Am I damned to fall in and out of love? Will I leave a string of broken hearts behind me? I drifted off to sleep, vowing not to let that bother me. At least not for the weekend.