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    Mark Arbour
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Gap Year - 26. Chapter 26

February 11, 2004

Cancilla’s Restaurant

New York, NY

 

Will

The same woman who had been here when I’d come here with JJ and Carullo was there acting as the hostess. She had been friends with the mother of Carullo’s boyfriend Joey, who had died during the 9-11 attacks. My memory thankfully came to my rescue and I recalled that her name was Dottie Cancilla. She had that same big hair and makeup that the Italian women at Joey’s funeral wore, and a big loud voice and attitude to go with it. “Welcome to Cancilla’s,” she said, then her eyes narrowed as she looked at me in an appraising way. “Do I know you?”

“I was here a while back with John Carullo and my brother, JJ Schluter,” I said politely.

“You were with Johnny Carullo!” she said, as if that was an epiphany. “And your brother is that talented skater! Didn’t he win an Olympic Gold Medal?”

“No, but he won the US Men’s National Championship,” I said, which was probably a complete waste of breath. Next time I met her she’d tell me he won a gold medal.

“I remember you now. Is he with you tonight?” I didn’t know if she was referring to JJ or Carullo.

“No, I’m meeting someone for dinner,” I said.

“I’m going to bet it’s the handsome blond man I seated ten minutes ago,” she said, like she was some big sleuth and this was some clandestine meeting. It was interesting that he got here early.

“I’m guessing he’s the guy,” I said with a smile.

“Right this way,” she said, and led me through the dining room. JJ told me that when we came here the first time, he’d been worried it would be some tacky place with plastic red and white checkered tablecloths. It was kitschy, but it was much nicer than that. The table Kris got was not the same one I’d had the last time, which had been in the middle of the restaurant so Dottie could show JJ off to her other customers. Instead, it was secluded, kind of off to the side near the back. I decided that was much better for my ‘date’ tonight. I saw Kris sitting there looking at his watch, which made me almost laugh out loud, because he was obviously worried I wouldn’t show, and because he wasn’t wearing his fake Rolex but something unfashionable that was probably a Seiko. He seemed even more handsome than he did yesterday, probably because last night he’d been without his suit jacket and his tie, and this time he was wearing them. He saw me coming and tried not to smile. “Here you are,” Dottie said, and put a menu down on the table in the seat across from Kris.

“Thanks,” I said, and took a seat. I waited until she left to talk to him. “Made it.”

“I was worried you wouldn’t even show,” he said, grumbling, then spotted the package I’d brought. “What’s that?”

“It’s a gift for a friend,” I said obliquely. “What makes you think any dude would stand you up?”

“You make a good point,” he said, smiling at me, and putting his previous grouchy attitude aside. “I was honestly pretty surprised to hear from you.”

“You didn’t sound surprised,” I said, giving him shit for being a dick on the phone.

“Look, I’m not used to dudes treating me like that,” he said.

“You think you’re that hot?” I taunted.

“I know I’m that hot,” he said, and with that, he finally let go of his attitude and became really charming. “Plus I’m kind of the shit.”

I laughed. “Oh you are, are you?”

“Well yeah,” he said. “In addition to my obvious physical attributes, I’m a young investment banker, and I come from a noble German family. My great grandfather was a prince.”

“Yeah, but weren’t princes like a dime a dozen in Germany back in those days?” I teased. I'd been educated on European nobility courtesy of Grand during our visit to England when we'd first met the Duke of Suffolk.

“No, Dukes and Counts were a dime a dozen, not princes,” he said. “Besides, he was a Prussian prince. My name should actually be von Schulenberg.” He was clearly very proud of his heritage.

“Does that mean you’re really rigid?” I flirted.

“You have no idea,” he said suggestively.

The same waitress we’d had last time I’d been here strolled up to the table. “Know what you want?” she asked in her brusque way, even as she smacked the gum she was chewing.

“I’ll start off with a gin and tonic, then I’ll have a salad with your house dressing, and the cannelloni with your best merlot,” I said. Kris stared at me a bit strangely since I hadn’t even looked at the menu.

“I’m guessing you have a fake ID?” she asked.

“Not even you could tell if it was real or not,” I said. She smiled slightly, then took Kris’s order.

“What the fuck? You been here before?” he asked after she left.

“Yeah, a couple of times,” I said.

“I heard you were visiting from somewhere out west,” he said, confused. “And you been to this place?”

“I’m from California, I’ve been out here a lot of times, and this is a good place to eat,” I said. We talked about California, and he told me that he’d been to LA, so we talked about that for a while. Our drinks came, prompting a change of conversation. “Are you a New Yorker?”

“I’m a native,” he said proudly. “I love this city.”

“I love this city too,” I said. “So you work for Goldfarb?”

“Yeah,” he said, and it was like just saying it wore him out. “I graduated from Wharton last May and I’ve been there since June. Dude, it’s fun, but it’s fucking exhausting.”

“I heard you have to work long hours there,” I probed.

“It’s insane,” he said. “A twelve-hour day is normal.”

“So how is it you were out at a bar last night, and you’re out with me tonight?” If he worked that many hours, he was sure blowing some serious free time this week.

He shrugged. “I haven’t gotten laid for a week, so that was last night. As for tonight, you seemed interesting enough for me to make up the hours tomorrow.”

“You got laid last night?”

“I did,” he said. “Doesn’t mean I couldn’t do it again.” I laughed at that as I warmed up to him as well. Our salads came, another distraction, another change of topic. “What about you? You look like you’re still in school.”

“I am, but I took a semester off,” I said. Both of those things were true, although not in the way he was thinking.

“Must be nice,” he said, shaking his head. “I was on a scholarship, so I didn’t have the chance to take time off. Had to work straight through.”

“How is it that the great-grandson of Prussian prince has to get a scholarship to Wharton and wears a fake Rolex?” I asked.

“People with good bloodlines don’t always have money,” he said a little bitterly. “The pedigree only opens doors; it doesn’t spit out cash.”

“Sort of how thoroughbred horses don’t always win,” I teased, but he didn’t laugh. I reached out and held his hand. “Dude, you’re in investment banking. You have to be making good money now.”

“You’re right,” he said. “But I wasn’t making that kind of money when I was in school, and it’s still not enough to shell out for a real Rolex, especially when I have a shit ton of student loans to pay off.”

“Well, you get a free meal tonight,” I said.

“Look, that was nice of you to offer, but I got this,” he said, evidently taking me for a poor student.

“No,” I said firmly. “I said I was taking you out, and that’s what I’m doing.” Our main courses came and that stopped his argument. The cannelloni was as good as I remembered.

“So what happened last night to piss you off?” he asked. His beautiful blue eyes bored into mine, and his intensity made him even more handsome.

He’d probably wanted to ask me that since I got here, but he’d shown some serious patience and had taken time for us to get comfortable with each other.

“I had a bad after-fuck experience,” I said. I told him all about the deal with Dustin, and he just shook his head in disgust.

“I heard that about him,” he said, referring to Dustin. “Fucking douche.”

“I just felt so nasty afterward,” I said, opening up to him.

“Maybe you need a good experience to cleanse you,” he said suggestively.

“Maybe I do,” I replied. We finished eating, and after the waitress took our plates. I handed him the present.

“What’s this?” he asked, looking at the nice wrapping.

“I told you it was a present for a friend,” I said. “When I first got here, I wasn’t sure if I liked you enough to be your friend.”

“But you do now?” he asked.

“Now I do,” I said.

“You did not have to get me a present,” he insisted, then grinned. “But thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” I said, “Now open it.”

He tore off the wrapping paper and saw the Rolex box. “What the fuck?” He didn’t wait for a reply, he opened the box and pulled out the watch.

“So you won’t ever be outed for wearing a fake one,” I said.

“These things are thousands of dollars,” he said, as he picked it up and held it, looking at it with almost idol type worship. Then he got resolved and closed the box back up. “I can’t take this from you.” That was an amazingly thoughtful gesture on his part. He had no idea how much money I had, and to turn down such an awesome present must have taken a ton of willpower.

“Why not?” I asked, knowing the answer.

“It’s too expensive,” he said.

“You know how your great grandfather was some Prussian prince?” I asked, getting an eyeroll from him.

“Yes.”

“My grandfather is Stefan Schluter,” I said proudly. His mouth fell open and he just stared at me in shock.

“Seriously?” he asked.

“Seriously,” I said.

“Shit, he’s incredible,” Kris said. “Last year I heard he was in town and there was some kind of orgy party. I kept trying to find out how to get invited so I could go fuck him.”

I laughed. “Yeah, the party where the alarm went off.”

“I heard about that,” he said, laughing, then his tone changed to annoyance. “Rumor has it there was some bitchy blond dude there that supposedly caused all the problems.” That made me laugh probably a bit too loudly, thinking about how JJ’s reputation got slammed for that event.

“That was my brother,” I said, and saw him get worried. “He’s a little high strung.”

“No matter to me,” he said. “Didn’t get to go anyway.”

“You can meet him if you want to,” I said.

“No shit?” he asked, his eyes bulging.

“Sure,” I said. “You’re hot. He’d appreciate that.”

“I’m smart too,” he objected.

“That would appeal to my other grandfather, who used to be a professor at Stanford,” he said.

“Wow, I always wanted to nail one of my professors,” he said. “Maybe I could fuck both of them and fulfill my fantasies!”

“Oh, so I’m not good enough now?” I asked, faking a bitchiness that wasn’t there at all. He leaned forward and I did the same, and we kissed across the table. He was a really good kisser, which was what I’d expect from a dude like him. With his looks and those lips, he could really suck you in. He broke off the kiss and we both leaned back into our respective chairs.

“Please tell me you’re not a top,” he said, cracking me up.

“I can top, but I’d rather bottom,” I said.

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” he said. “Let’s get our check and get out of here.” While I was waiting to pay the bill, I made him put on the Rolex. He kept looking at it and admiring it. “This thing is the bomb.”

“I’m glad you like it,” I said. “I tried to find the exact one that you had on last night.” He pulled that one out of his jacket pocket and held it next to the other one. “I thought it was such a good fake. Looks like shit next to the real thing.”

I paid the bill then we stopped to thank Dottie for a nice dinner. When we got outside, I found that I’d lost the Maybach, but the driver had one of the other limos instead. The driver opened the door for us. “I’m sorry I had to switch cars,” he said.

“JJ threw a tantrum?” I joked.

“Something like that,” he said, shaking his head. “Where to?”

“Just drive around for a while,” I said, and let him shut the door behind us. I put up the privacy screen while Kris checked out the car.

“You had a Maybach?”

“It’s my brother’s car,” I said. “He must have needed it, so we got this one.”

“Nice,” he said.

“It’s also roomier,” I said, as I knelt in front of him.

“Then I like this better,” he said. His lips were on mine, and then things moved pretty quickly from there. In almost no time at all our clothes were off, giving me a chance to worship his sexy body. He liked that a lot. I thought it was mildly ironic that Dustin had thought Latino dudes smelled nasty, when in fact Chris had a very pleasant body odor while Kris’s was pretty tart and unpleasant. He fucked me like the pro that he was, and it was almost like my experience last night only Kris seemed a little more selfish, more concerned about his own pleasure than mine. Still, it was a really good fuck, one that left me sprawled across the floor of the limo panting when it was over.

“That was fun,” I said with a smile.

“You know, I do this a lot, and I gotta say you were one of my better pieces of ass,” he said, and gave me a nice kiss.

“It was all you,” I lied.

“You think you could drop me off at home?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said. I gestured to the phone, and he told the driver his address. We took that opportunity to get dressed. He lived in Brooklyn, not too far from what would be Johnny’s house tomorrow after we closed.

The limo pulled up to a pretty plain, four family flat. He gave me another one of his good kisses. “Thanks for everything. I’ll think of you every time I check the time.”

“You’re welcome,” I said, and ran my fingers through his gelled hair. “Call me sometime.”

“I will. Let me know next time you’re in New York.” I nodded, and he hopped out of the car.

The phone rang and I answered it. “Where to now, Mr. Schluter?”

“Will, call me Will,” I insisted. Johnny was using the room at the hotel, and I didn’t know if Stef and Grand were in the other room. “JJ’s condo.”

“On the way,” he said. I looked at my phone to see if I had any messages and saw that it was 11pm. I was tempted to change my mind and go to the Marquee, but it had been a long day, so I shut that idea down. I was just about to close it when I saw a call pop up. I smiled when I saw it was Patrick.

“Hey,” I said pleasantly.

“Seems that this is the first number I’m supposed to booty call,” he joked in his deep, sexy voice. I’d just finished fucking Kris, but I was already ready for another round, especially with him.

“I can do that. Your condo?”

“My condo,” he confirmed.

“Hold on,” I said, and called the driver while keeping Patrick on the line. I changed our destination, then told Patrick our ETA. Fifteen minutes later found us pulling up to his building.

“Will you need me any more tonight?” the driver asked as he opened the door.

“No, I think I’ll stay here,” I said.

Patrick buzzed me into the building, and when I got off the elevator on his floor, he was waiting for me in gym shorts. I admired his bare chest with its smattering of hair that made him seem older, which he was, and sexy. “Welcome,” he said, and when he kissed me, all the guys I’d been with since Connie seemed like neophytes. “Come on in,” he said, taking my hand and pulling me into his apartment.

“I need to take a shower,” I insisted. He looked at me strangely, but I’d just fucked Kris, and at the bare minimum there would still be lube on my ass. “I’ve had a fucking long day, and it will help me relax and not smell nasty.”

“I’ll join you,” he said. And so we took a long, hot shower, where I washed away the stress of the day, and any remaining bodily fluids that were on me. When we were done, we dried off and headed straight for his bed, where he took me on a ride that reminded me why I looked forward to spending time with him. After we were done, I ended up on top of him, my body smashed on top of his, stuck together by both our ejaculations. “That shower may have been a waste of time.”

I grabbed a towel and wiped us both off, then lay down next to him and gently stroked his chest. “I think the last 45 minutes have been perfect, but if you don’t think so…,” I taunted.

“Right,” he said. He pulled me to him so my head was on his chest and kissed my forehead. “Sorry I bailed on you this afternoon.”

“It was fine,” I said, and flicked his nipple in a playful way.

“This thing has really fucked me up,” he said, referring to Johnny. “I haven’t had sex with another dude since then, and only once or twice with Tara.”

“Why?” I asked.

“I thought I was dangerous,” he said, and wiped away a tear. “I didn’t want to put anyone else in that situation.”

“Except Tara,” I joked, trying to keep his emotions on an even keel.

“That didn’t get me fired up enough to even be a problem,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t know why it took me so fucking long to figure this out.”

“You mean that you’re gay and not bisexual?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Maybe they’re right, and bisexual is just a transit point on the way to being gay.” That annoyed me because I’d heard that crap, and it mostly came from the gay community, which shouldn’t be judging anyone over their sexuality.

“Look, that’s bullshit. I know there are lots of guys who are genuinely bisexual. Just because that’s not you, don’t drag them along with you,” I said firmly.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

“One of the big things I’m hoping to see in my lifetime is that being gay is as normal as being straight,” I said, getting on my soapbox. “No one has any right to judge anyone about what gets them off.”

“Unless it’s what I did, fucking an underage person,” he said guiltily.

“Is that something that attracts you? A dude being young?” I asked, since I was dying to know the answer to that question.

“Right,” he said, annoyed. “You think I’m with you because you’re young?”

“No, I think you’re with me because we’re great together,” I said. “I mean, when you surf for porn, do you look up teens?”

He could have blasted me out of the water for that, but he stayed calm. “No, I usually look for the boy-next-door or jock type.”

“I’m not really either one of those,” I mused.

“Technically you’re not, but in the porn world, you could easily star in either one of those types of films,” he said. I could see that. “You know, it’s not real. Porn isn’t.”

“Yeah, I figured that out,” I said. “So what’s going to happen to you now?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I mean are you going to start dating guys, and let everyone know that you’re gay?” I asked. I didn’t think I did a very good job of hiding my jealousy when I asked that, but he let it slide.

“I’ll probably do that,” he said. “I was thinking about it, and I don’t think it’s a big deal. I think if I meet someone and I want to go out with him, that will let everyone know my deal.”

“Maybe,” I said. “On the other hand, if you make a statement about it, it kind of helps prevent you from getting involved with women, or at least if you do, they’ll know what they were getting into.”

“You think I should publicly come out so I can avoid hurting women who I may otherwise prey on?” He asked, all outraged.

“Who made the move on who?” I asked. He looked at me confused. “Did you hit on Tara, or did Tara hit on you?”

“I hit on her, after the Johnny thing,” he grumbled.

“Then you have to think about that,” I said. “The other thing is that if you’re out, maybe you can help out other gay dudes in this business who are trying to navigate how to handle their sexuality.”

“You mean I should fuck them?” he teased.

“Duh,” I joked. “I mean you can set an example.”

“There are already a ton of gay designers out there,” he said.

“That’s true,” I agreed. “But most of them wouldn’t play in a pickup basketball or football or soccer game, and you would.”

“You’re saying because I’m more masculine than guys like Lagerfeld?” he asked.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” I said, frustrated. “I’m saying you bust a stereotype.” I wasn’t sure if that was really a thing, but I wanted to give him a reason beyond just himself to come out. I was worried that he’d let himself get sucked back into this quasi-bisexual act he played.

“I’ll think about it,” he said. We had sex again, then I fell asleep with him spooned up behind me, his arms wrapped around me, feeling content.

 

February 12, 2004

Trump Tower

New York, NY

 

Will

“God this place is tacky,” I told Grand, as we walked through the lobby of Trump Tower. The outside was hideous, just a big, tall rectangular gold building with Trump’s name on it. The inside was done in a garish and tasteless way. I had to admit it was an accurate reflection of that man.

“It is probably good that Stef is not with us,” Grand said, his way of agreeing with me. We got in the elevator and went up thirty floors, while I tried to hide my nervousness in going up so high in a building in New York City. We got off the elevator and walked down the hall to the title company. They were expecting us, and the entire transaction went smoothly. I’d done this before, but it was nice to have Grand there for moral support.

The nice lady who’d done the closing with us got up and went to copy all the paperwork and brought me back the forms that gave me possession of Johnny’s house. “You’re now a Brooklyn property owner, Mr. Schluter,” she said to me with a smile.

“I am,” I said as I returned her smile and shook her hand. Grand and I were about to leave when a man dressed in a tacky suit appeared. He merely handed her an envelope and left.

“What is this?” she asked, staring at the envelope.

“If I was to hazard a guess, I would say that you just got served legal documents,” Grand observed. She nodded, opened the document, then stared at it for a second. “Is there a problem?”

“This is a court order telling me we have to retain the funds you just paid for that house,” she said.

“May I see it?” Grand asked politely. She was about to argue, then shrugged and handed it to him. We went back into the closing room while he read it. When he was done, he folded it back up and handed it to her.

“What’s it say?” I asked him.

“Evidently Johnny got the court to order that the proceeds from the sale of the house remain in escrow pending the settlement of the legal battle over who owned the house,” Grand said, smiling slightly.

“So what am I supposed to do?” the lady asked, confused.

“My advice is that you talk to your legal counsel, but this order forbids you from issuing a check to the sellers of our house,” Grand said.

She thought about that for a few seconds. “That doesn’t effect this transaction, does it?”

“No, Will still owns the house,” Grand said. We shook hands with her and left. We didn’t talk about any of this until we got to the car.

“So Johnny decided to sue his family over the sale of the house?” I asked.

“That is how it appears to be,” he said.

“If he wins the lawsuit, he gets the money for selling the house, plus he gets to keep it,” I mused.

“Perhaps he was not as unintelligent as Stefan led us to believe,” Grand said.

“Perhaps,” I said. “Gonna be some fireworks at that family reunion.”

“Undoubtedly,” Grand agreed.

Copyright © 2020 Mark Arbour; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

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