The Freshmen - 5. Chapter 5

August 7, 2004

Tribeca

New York, NY

JJ

We’d had an awesome afternoon. Jacinta had made us food, and we’d laid in bed and talked or fooled around. Kris was pretty talented at frotting, so that ended up being more fun than I had imagined. We’d finally started primping for the event, and it was interesting to see that he took just as much time as I did. At least he wouldn’t be nagging me like Carullo did. We’d just finished getting ready and were standing in front of the big mirror in my room, admiring how handsome we looked.

“I think I’m going to change my image,” Kris said, as he looked in the mirror.

“What’s to change?” I asked, sounding like a brash New Yorker. Where did that Brooklyn accent come from? “You look great.”

“So do you,” he said. He got out his phone and took a picture of us. I started to worry about him posting it on one of those sites like Facebook, but then relaxed. I wasn’t an ice skater anymore, and I could date anyone I wanted. The outfit I’d bought for him was a classic tuxedo, as Americans would call it. Mine was similar, but had a little more flair. To the inexperienced eye, we’d probably look like penguins.

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

“I’m going to use my title,” he said. He was very definitive about it, but I could tell he wanted my opinion.

“Okay, what’s your title?” I asked.

“Furst von Schulenberg,” he said proudly, with a German accent. “In English, it’s Prince von Schulenberg. The root title is Duke von Schulenberg.”

“What’s a root title?” I asked.

“That’s the title we got for the land we owned, while ‘Prince’ was an honor bestowed on us by the Emperor,” he explained. I shook my head at how complicated all this nobility shit was.

“What do people call you?” I asked, and almost felt like I was talking to Alex, with all of his titles and subsidiary titles and bullshit.

“I’ll go by Prince Kristofer von Schulenberg,” he stated just as if he were a majordomo. I smiled at him for being so cute.

“Well if you do this, can you prove it?” I asked. He gave me a dirty look. “There are all these stories about people who suddenly appear with noble titles and scam people. If you make your society debut,” I teased, “and someone questions you, you have to be able to back it up.”

“I can back it up,” he said. “I have a crown.”

“You have a crown?” I asked, and chuckled.

“A crown and a mantle,” he said. That confused me so he answered my unspoken question. “The mantle is the ornate cape you place over your shoulders.”

“You have these things?” I asked in disbelief.

“They were in the box,” he said simply, referring to the box he’d taken over the objections of his mother.

“I think you should go as Prince, not that other thing, because no one speaks German,” I said.

“Some people do,” he objected, then babbled some words in German.

“Look, I’m lucky I can speak French and Spanish,” I said. Saying I could speak them was a stretch. I was competent at best. “I don’t have room for another language.” I was amazed at how relaxed I was with him, and how self-effacing.

“Then that’s what I’ll do,” he said, and seemed really proud.

“Why didn’t you do that before?” I asked. “I mean, you could have used it last night.”

“It’s embarrassing to be a prince and be poor,” he said. “It makes me look like a big joke. But thanks to the clothes you bought me, I can pull it off, at least tonight.”

“No,” I said firmly. “This becomes your identity. You can’t switch back and forth.”

“Then maybe I should wait,” he said.

“No, using your title makes you unique and gives you status,” I said. “You have to do it now or never.”

“Then I’ll do it now, and hope for the best,” he said.

I took out one of my calling cards, blacked out my name with a marker, then wrote his full name and title on the back and handed it to him. He looked at me, a bit confused. “This is the kind of event where they will announce you. Just hand that card to the dude who’s doing that.”

“Okay,” he said. “Do they always do that?”

“No, but it’s part of tonight’s theme,” I said. “It’s supposed to be like a gilded age party, and they did that back in the 1890s.”

“We aren’t dressed like we’re from the 1890s,” he said.

“It’s not a costume party,” I said. “It’s more of a backdrop theme, not a total one. I went to a Regency themed ball and everyone had to dress like that. This one you have a choice.”

“Cool,” he said. We went downstairs, got in the Maybach, and kicked back, enjoying the ride to the Waldorf. “When I’m in this car, traffic doesn’t bother me.”

“It was one of my smarter purchases,” I said, even though Stef was the one who had ordered it for me. We got to the Waldorf but I told the driver to wait.

Kris looked nervously at his watch. “It’s 6:50. Shouldn’t we go in?”

“No,” I said. “We’ll go in at 7:00, and that will get us to the event at 7:10.”

“Then we’ll be late,” he pointed out.

“We will be,” I agreed. “But more people will pay attention when we walk in, and this way you’ll make a bigger splash.”

“Thanks,” he said, and leaned it to give me a sweet kiss. The driver dropped us off at 6:59, then we wandered through the Waldorf to the ballroom, taking our time.

We walked into the ballroom at precisely 7:08, which ended up being perfect. We handed the announcer our cards, then waited until he called the first name. “Mr. Jeremy Schluter,” he said. “Prince Kristopher von Schulenberg.” A host walked us to our table, which was another benefit of being late.

“People are looking at you,” I teased. “Don’t strut.”

“Asshole,” he whispered, making me giggle.

We got to our table to find that everyone was just sitting down. I mentally patted myself on the back for my perfect timing. We were at Bellona’s table, along with some other players in the fashion world. “Jeremy, how good to see you,” Bellona said, giving me air kisses. “And you are the prince?” she asked Kris, with just the slightest bit of snarkiness to indicate her skepticism.

“I am,” Kris said, and bowed down to kiss her hand. Either Will or Darius could do that so much better than he could. I’d have to coach him. But he was handsome, so she was charmed.

“It’s good to see you, Jeremy,” Zach Posen said. He was having a hard time not obviously ogling Kris. I introduced them, then went on to greet Karl Lagerfeld, who was sitting on the other side of the table. For some reason, he didn’t seem to like me all that much, but he really seemed to like Kris. I demanded that my brain not get jealous that they liked him better.

Michael Kors was here with a really handsome guy who was young, tall, and gorgeous. “Good to see you, Jeremy,” he said. “This is Rafael.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said. He shook my hand. “This is…”

“I know Kris,” he said, raising an eyebrow, then gave Kris kisses on the cheek and hugged him way too intimately for this crowd. I was annoyed, but fortunately Michael wasn’t.

“I don’t think you have met Sebastian del Campo,” Bellona said, introducing me to a man who was probably in his early 50s.

“A pleasure to meet you,” he said to me, with his smooth South American accent making the words that much more sensual. “This is my partner, Francesca Montalvo.” She was absolutely garish, wearing clothes that looked like they came from a telenovela, with a dress that was short, tight, red, and barely held her huge tits in. Her hair was teased up and held in place with combs.

“Senor del Campo is investing in a fashion house in Argentina, so we are pleased to have him with us,” Bellona said. Her eyes twitched a little bit as they landed on Jarvis, who was sitting next to Zac Posen. He looked nervous. Someone had probably told her this guy was a big deal, but now that he was here at her table, he and his girlfriend looked more like South American mobsters.

“Welcome to New York,” I said politely. I was sitting next to Jarvis on one side and Kris on the other, while Rafael was next to Kris and Michael was next to Bellona.

“Are you in trouble?” I whispered to Jarvis.

“Of course,” he said, and all but confirmed my theory. “There’s going to be a job opening on Monday in our event planning department.” I chuckled at that.

“And from what country are you a prince?” Bellona asked, speaking past Michael and Rafael to Kris.

“I’m a prince of the Holy Roman Empire,” he said.

“I was not aware that the Holy Roman Empire was still in existence,” the flamboyant date who’d come with Karl Lagerfeld mused, with true French sarcasm. His name was Pietro, but he was most definitely French.

“I’m the fourteenth Prince von Schulenberg,” Kris said, using the same tone he probably used when he was blowing off some guy who was hitting on him in a bar. “The title was granted by the Holy Roman Emperor in medieval times.” It was hilarious that he’d made everyone look incredibly nouveau. I tried not to be annoyed that I was in that group too.

“Marvelous,” Karl said, to save Pietro from looking like an ass.

“How wonderful,” Bellona said, and it was telling that she did not opt to bring up her own supposed links to the French Royal Family.

“You are so handsome, and you are a prince,” Francesca said, openly lusting at him.

“I think so too,” I said firmly, clearly delineating that he was not only with me, he was my date. Kris gave me an amused look.

Conversation was general, the food was pretty good, but my mood kept getting increasingly worse, primarily because Rafael was spending his time flirting with Kris. I kept trying to decide if Kris liked him or not, but he was hard to read. After the main course, I just happened to glance over at Kris’s lap to see Rafael’s hand moving underneath his napkin. “Excuse me, I’ll be right back,” Kris said, and stood up to get away from this guy.

After he was gone, I leaned over to talk to Rafael, and he leaned in toward me, which made it convenient for me to whisper in his ear. “If you don’t leave my date alone, I will have your kneecaps broken and your face rearranged,” I said with considerable venom in my voice, then backed away and smiled at him. He looked at me and rolled his eyes, then spoke to Michael, who glanced at me and replied. Rafael looked at me, his eyes bulging, then looked away. Kris came back and Rafael didn’t so much as talk to him after that. I wanted to laugh my ass off.

They had a bunch of speakers, awards, and shit, and recognized the biggest donors to the event. I had sent them a big check, and that got me into the top 10 donors. After that everyone mingled, so I dragged Kris around and introduced him to a bunch of people. We were talking to some people from City Hall when all of a sudden Kris tensed up. “Shit, that’s my boss’s boss.” The guy he gestured to was probably in his early 40s, with gelled hair and a tacky dinner jacket.

He spotted Kris and came strolling over. “Prince, eh?” he asked sarcastically. “Wait until everyone hears this news.”

“It’s legit,” Kris said.

“It’s interesting to run into you here, having a good time, when I’m still waiting on those proposals you were supposed to have done on Friday,” he said in a very bitchy way.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met,” I interrupted. He seemed to notice me for the first time.

“Jerrod Blair,” he said, and shook my hand like he was trying to crush it.

“Jeremy Schluter,” I said. I pulled my hand back and shook some feeling back into it, then gave him a look of disdain. He made to tear into Kris again, but I interrupted his plan. “I’m assuming, by the way you’re acting, you don’t get to events like this very often, so let me enlighten you. This is not the office, nor is it the place to browbeat people.” I used my ultimate snob tone when I said it and embarrassed the fuck out of him. The City Hall people were giggling under their breaths.

“I’ll talk to you on Monday, Kris,” he said, then stormed off. Kris looked terrified.

“Whose idea was it to invite uncouth investment bankers?” one of the other guests asked loudly.

“Could have been you,” Bellona said to Jarvis acidly. I didn’t even know she was there. “I am sorry about that scene.”

“I just hope I have a job on Monday,” Kris said nervously.

“I’ll bet you do,” Bellona said. “I want you to meet someone.”

“Sure,” Kris said. It was unwise to say no to Bellona. She led us through the room toward a group of executive types, and I wasn’t surprised to see Michael Bloomberg there.

“Michael,” Bellona said, and even these industry titans made room for her. They greeted each other.

“How’s your grandfather, Jeremy?” Bloomberg asked.

“Working hard to stay richer than Your Honor,” I said with a smile, making all of them laugh. I usually wasn’t this witty and talkative at these events. I’d have to figure out later why I was like that tonight.

“And Lloyd,” she said to a tall, balding man. “We have met two of your employees here tonight. This one is handsome and charming, while the other was so boorish I suspect we won’t see him again.”

“I’m Kris Schulenberg, sir,” Kris said, and I could hear his voice trembling slightly.

“You’re the prince,” Lloyd said. “Didn’t know we hired royalty.”

“Well actually, sir, it’s nobility, not royalty,” Kris said, shooting some massive charm at this guy. “I guess the background check missed that.”

“What division are you in?” he asked Kris.

“I speak fluent German and Spanish, so I work in the international division,” Kris said.

“You guys have been doing some good work there,” he said.

“Thank you,” Kris said. We sidled away from that group and let Bellona slaughter Jerrod. “I think I’m going to have a heart attack.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked, concerned.

“That was Lloyd Blankfein,” he said. “He’s the President and Chief Operating Officer of Goldman Sachs.”

“That sounds important,” I said, because I had no idea of how their company was structured.

“Dude, he is my ultimate boss,” Kris said.

“Then it’s a good thing you were very charming,” I said. I had gotten sick of this thing after the first hour of mingling, but Kris seemed to thrive on it, aggressively meeting people and making contacts. I was patient for another thirty minutes, then I was done. “It’s time to go.”

“Really?” he asked, disappointed.

“Really,” I said. We made our way out, saying goodbye to people we knew or had just met, and with a great deal of relief I found the Maybach waiting for us.

“That was absolutely incredible,” Kris said. “I cannot thank you enough for taking me.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” I said. “You did a really good job and impressed everyone.”

“I felt like I was out of my league at first, but you were there and that made it alright,” he said, and gave me a loving kiss.

“You didn’t need my help with one exception,” I said. He looked at me curiously. “We have to work on your hand kiss.”

“I did it wrong?” he asked, horrified.

“You did it right, but not as well as you should,” I said.

“So you’ll show me how to do it better?” he asked.

“On our next date,” I said, raising my eyebrow suggestively. I wasn’t sure exactly why I was so alive tonight. I usually didn’t flirt like this.

“I’m gonna have to spend most of tomorrow in the office,” he grumbled. “Maybe dinner tomorrow?”

“That works,” I said.

We got back to the condo and I told the driver we wouldn’t need him anymore, then we went up to my unit. We walked in to find it fortunately empty. “I should probably go home and rest for tomorrow,” he said.

I stared at him, stunned. He was leaving already? I mean, it wasn’t a requirement, but a blow job to thank me for helping him make his entrée into New York Society would be nice. But no matter what was going through his mind, I wasn’t going to beg him. On the other hand, I hadn’t invited him to stay either. Maybe he was fishing for an invitation. “You’re welcome to stick around for awhile,” I said casually, getting as close as I could to asking him to spend the night without embarrassing myself.

“I figure I imposed upon you enough today already,” he said. I’d put myself out there, made a move, and he’d all but slapped me away.

“Your stuff is in one of the guest rooms,” I said coldly, and led him down the hall to Carullo’s old room. Now I was being pelted by rejection on all fronts. I did not need this tonight. I looked at my watch. “If you hurry, the bars are still open.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, but I was already walking away from him. I went into my room and shut the door, then started taking off my outfit. I carefully surveyed everything to see if it was still perfect or if it needed to go to the cleaners. In the end, I just tossed it all in the dry-cleaning bag. If I could just get to sleep, I could put all of this behind me and think about it tomorrow. He didn’t even give me a good night kiss. I let myself feel totally sorry for myself, ignoring the fact that I’d walked away from him and left him hanging out in Carullo’s old room.

Maybe I was destined to be alone in life. Maybe with all of my insecurities and weird quirks people didn’t want to be around me, and had no clue how to deal with me. Maybe I needed to change how I viewed sex and see it like Kris, Carullo, and Will did, or at least had: as a transaction. You meet someone, you make out with them, take them home, fuck them, and they leave. Why was I so reluctant to do that? It sounded like the ideal relationship for me. If Kris and I did dinner on Sunday, maybe I’d have him teach me how to do that, and show me which bars to go to where I could find less skanky people.

In the meantime, I did what I had done so many times before. I got into bed, put a pillow over my head, and cried. I cried about Carullo, who I had been in love with and probably still was, and probably always would be. It was unfair to blame him for finding someone to live with, so they could play the happy married couple with his friends who lived there. I didn’t give a shit about what was fair. If he loved me, he would have found a way to be in New York with me, instead of ending up in fucking Connecticut. I thought about Alex, who had first taken my virginity, then my heart, then he’d fucked Mary Ellen, that whore, and destroyed my career and stomped all over my love. Then of course Susannah came into my life and seemed like a great companion. She gave my life some level of normalcy, until she turned into a controlling bitch, one who had embarrassed me in front of everyone I knew. Some things I could forgive, but public humiliation was not one of them. And now there was Kris, who was happy to let me buy him clothes, go to parties, and be arm candy for me, and he was more than happy to make out with me, and he’d even go so far as to blow me, but that was evidently it. He didn’t find me attractive enough to sleep with me, or even stay here and hold me and make me feel loved. He was gorgeous and suave, and his game was to take whatever he could grab then bail.

I felt the bed move as someone climbed in with me. I cringed, thinking that it could be Susannah, but she wasn’t that bold, and besides, the body that jiggled my bed was bigger than her. It could be some horrible people who had come to assault me, but it was most likely Kris. I smiled slightly and tried to bury my head in the pillow, not to avoid him, but to wipe away the tears so he didn’t think I was an emotional idiot, even though I probably was. I felt his hand running gently across my shoulder, my body tingling from his touch, then he moved up behind me and wrapped his arms around me, making me feel so safe and loved. “I’m sorry if I upset you,” he said softly into my ear. “You gave me a fabulous night, and I fucked it up, and I don’t know how.”

How could he not understand why I was upset? Was he completely daft? “You don’t have to put on an act if you don’t like me,” I said, turning around to face him. “It’s not like I’ll try to ruin your life or something like that.”

He shook his head at me. “I have been with so many guys, and I always know what to do and how to play them, and with you, I have no clue, and I keep fucking things up,” he said.

“It just seems like you really don’t want to, you know, be with me,” I said.

“That is not it at all,” he said, and seemed really upset. “You are so classy and refined. You have more taste in your pinky than most guys have in their whole bodies. I didn’t want to offend you by pushing you, by going too fast.” I didn’t really believe him.

“Look, I am seriously messed up, so your instincts are probably spot on and you should probably run the fuck away from me. I have what is basically bipolar-light, and that means I’m moody, bitchy, and unpredictable. I’m totally unlovable, I’m completely insecure, and I cannot handle rejection of any kind,” I said, amazed at myself for opening up to him. I had never met a guy like him who I could be myself with like this. It was a shame he didn’t like me.

I was expecting him to argue with me, but instead he kissed me, ramping up slowly because I was annoyed and not super responsive, but his lips and his tongue sucked me in. He ended our kiss and I felt so disappointed, until his mouth moved down my body, his tongue carving a way to my nipples, down my abdomen, and to my dick. I felt his mouth envelop me and moaned, letting myself enjoy it, but then he stopped, and now he was sucking on my balls and going lower. He lifted my hips up and I felt his mouth, then his tongue, on my ass. He worked me for a long time, then used his fingers to get me ready. I really didn’t know him all that well, but I wanted him more than anything.

He got out a condom and put it on while I reached into my drawer, grabbed a bottle of lube and handed it to him. He smiled, then slathered his cock and my hole, and started kissing me again. He was on top of me, tilting my hips back, while using his hand to line his dick up with my hole. He pushed in gently, as if asking permission, while I willed my body to open up and let him in, and it did. Then he started to fuck me, and holy shit, I found myself completely into it. He was a cross between Alex, who was gentle and loving, and Carullo, who was animalistic, and it was just right. He moved us into all kinds of different positions, as if trying to figure out what I liked, and I moaned to tell him when I was enjoying something, which meant I was moaning constantly. I felt like I was in the hands of a true professional, someone who knew his shit when he was fucking a dude, and that should have bothered me but it didn’t. As much shit as I gave Will for being slutty, with Kris, I was glad he had all that experience. When I came, I felt like I left my body, and when my orgasm was over I ended up lying in the bed on my back, drenched in sweat, covered in my own semen. He got up and walked into the bathroom, presumably to throw away the condom, then came back with a towel and sensually wiped me off. “That was incredible,” I said.

“I’ve been with a lot of guys, but that was the best fuck I have ever had,” he said. I just stared at him, blinking.

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” I grumbled, unwilling to just accept his compliment.

“I’ve done that before, said that to guys to make them feel good, but not this time,” he said. He stared at me, his eyes boring into mine to make sure I could see his sincerity. “This time, it’s legit.”

“I haven’t slept with a bunch of guys, only a few, but they were good,” I said. “This was better.” He smiled at me for stroking his ego, even as I struggled to decide if I was telling the truth or not.

“I wanted to be with you from the first time I saw you,” he said. I snuggled up to him and enjoyed the feel of his body intertwined with mine.

“Because you’ve never fucked the son of a billionaire?” I teased. He almost got pissed until he got that I was joking.

“I have fucked rich dudes before, and I have been in relationships with rich dudes,” he said. “You know my deal. I appreciate the lifestyle lots of money can provide. But it wasn’t worth it. I’ll end up wealthy on my own.”

“You will,” I agreed.

“When Germany reunified back in the 90s, families who lost their property could file a claim to get it back,” he said. “My father did that, but our situation is complicated, and it’s winding its way through the courts. Been over ten years. So I may end up with a chunk of cash, and then I won’t need anyone else’s money.”

“What’s holding it up?” I asked.

“First it was the proof of ownership, which was difficult,” he said. “Now the big question is who gets it.”

“Your mom is fighting that too?” I asked.

“Not just her, but my whole family. My grandfather came over with his siblings, and they have families, and the laws of primogeniture don’t really apply in this case,” he said. “So I just have to be patient and see how this plays out.”

“Maybe it will work out, and you’ll end up being on good terms with your mother and brother,” I said. He shrugged like he didn’t care. “I bitch about my family all the time, and you cannot tell them this, but when I’m cut off from them, I feel like part of me is missing.”

“Yeah, it’s not the best situation,” he said, and seemed really sad.

“I want you to spend the night,” I said, almost an order.

“I can do that, and I’ll make sure I wake you up before I leave in the morning,” he said. I chuckled at that, and got an odd look from him.

“I’ve got a reputation for not being a morning person,” I said, one of the bigger understatements I could say. “But for you, I’ll wake up.”

“I’ll get up for you anytime,” he said, then he fucked me again.