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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.
Legacy - 44. Mysteries - Kurt DeWitt
What a fucking mess we had. ‘So many mysteries,’ I thought to myself as I lay awake in bed. How ironic it was that this was the earliest I’d gotten to bed in a week, and yet I couldn’t fall asleep. I had too fucking much on my mind. It was a time of grave peril.
And now we had Bruce Warren in our midst. I had very mixed feelings about that. On the one hand, it was good that we had an independent set of eyes and ears to substantiate what was happening. That Brad trusted him went a long way to assuaging my fears.
Yet he was a reporter at heart. There were times I sensed he wasn’t buying what we were telling him. He’s clearly very savvy and could seem to sense when he wasn’t being given the full picture. As a reporter, he wasn’t about to ignore his gut instincts, and that was what made him dangerous. He would ferret out the truth no matter where it led, even if it led us all off a cliff. He would bear close watching.
That a well-orchestrated, well-planned attack on the Presidential motorcade had occurred was not open to doubt. A rocket had been fired into the President’s limousine, killing all the occupants instantly. Although David was known for breaking with protocol and opening the window to wave to passers-by, there had been warnings in advance of his trip that he had kept from the rest of us. Why did he put himself in danger like that?
And why did the Vice President ride in the Presidential Limousine? How could such a breach of protocol have been allowed? The President and Vice President are never supposed to ride together, and hadn’t been allowed to do so since the Kennedy assassination. How could the Secret Service have let this happen, even if the President himself had requested it? Had I been there, it would have never happened.
Then there was the disappearance of President Schroeder. Even though we’d invoked the twenty-fifth amendment, he was still considered the president. How could the President of the United States just disappear? Of course, if he wanted to disappear, I had little doubt that he could have and would have, particularly if he was involved in the plot to kill President Reynolds. But he’d defended himself so vehemently just hours before in the Cabinet meeting. Would he have defended himself so strongly if he’d known all along that he planned to escape? Was all that just for show? Was it some sort of contingency plan? Was he even smart enough to have a contingency plan?
Of course he was a politician and a survivor. Marvin Schroeder knew how to take care of himself and perhaps that was what this was all about. Or could he himself have been abducted? As absurd as it seemed, I could not discount the possibility.
Why did someone go to the trouble of killing Cam Dunnington’s mother? Was it to keep Billy Mathews from riding with the President in the motorcade? It was Billy himself who had arranged the trip in the first place. It turned out his good friend’s mother had been killed with a potent neurotoxin for which we’d only recently developed the tools required to detect it - otherwise it would have never been detected in Ms. Dunnington’s body. Obviously, whoever had killed her never intended it to be detected.
Would Billy have stooped to killing the mother of one of his dearest friends, simply to provide himself an alibi? I couldn’t believe that Billy was capable of such a thing. I’d known him since he was only fourteen. He was one of the most honest people I knew. He was a man of integrity and yet I couldn’t help but wonder. But if it wasn’t Billy, who was it? Who among David’s killers would have wanted to keep Billy alive? Like it or not, I couldn’t eliminate my long-time friend as a suspect in the Reynolds assassination plot.
And what about Altaf and Paul? Altaf had been abducted by our own people and taken to a secret safe house in southern Turkey. Paul’s situation was a bit more of a mystery. How did he come into contact with the Palestinian Prime Minister in the first place, and why did someone try to frame him for the Prime Minister’s murder? Why were they then taken to the same safe house where Altaf ended up or, perhaps more correctly, why was Altaf taken to a safe house already occupied by the recent victims of an assassination attempt? Didn’t someone stop to think of the danger?
Who was it that attacked the safe house? Elements of the Israeli army and Hamas were involved, but were they fighting each other, or was one of them trying to rescue the occupants while the other was trying to kill them? Were Israel and Hamas working together in some strange way? How and why did American Special Forces become involved? Who authorized the use of the EMP device, and why? Was it Schroeder? If not Schroeder, who else might have gotten hold of the access codes, how did they manage to fake the retina scan and why did they go to the trouble in the first place?
How long might Altaf, Paul and the Palestinian Prime Minister survive underground? Our estimates were that, assuming they survived the attack in the first place, they had enough air to last a few days, or maybe a week at most if they limited their level of activity. It would take us months to dig them out, so was there really any point? Would our efforts be an exercise in futility?
All of these thoughts were churning in my mind, keeping me awake. It seemed like the more answers we had, the more questions there were. It didn’t help that my husband was burning the midnight oil yet again. I’d long ago gotten used to his erratic hours, and he to mine. Still, I always slept more soundly when we slept together.
Almost as if on cue, the bedroom door swung open and Trevor walked inside. As I sat up in bed, he strolled over and gave me a quick peck on the lips. “Sorry I woke you,” he said in a near whisper as our lips separated.
With a sigh, I replied, “I was already awake anyway. I couldn’t sleep.”
“Too much on your mind?” Trevor asked.
“That . . . and it’s never as easy sleeping when you’re not in bed with me.”
“That’s so sweet,” Trevor replied, and then he leaned in for another kiss, this one considerably longer and more passionate. “Just give me a few minutes,” he added. “I need a shower.” Sniffing under his arms, he added, “Badly!”
“Actually,” I said with my most seductive smile, “I kind of like the way you smell.” Trev and I hadn’t made love since before David’s assassination and for some reason, perhaps because it had been so long, I felt particularly horny tonight. It was evident that my husband was every bit as aroused as I was.
“Um, hold that thought,” Trevor said as he ran a finger from my chest, up the side of my neck and face. “Maybe you like the smell, but it’s really grossing me out. Turning toward the door, he looked over his shoulder and said, “I’ll be back in just a few . . . I promise.”
“I’ll be waiting right here,” I replied as I gently ran my hand up the inside of his thigh and groped his package. Trevor actually moaned when I did that.
Slowly pulling away, he whispered, “Seriously, I’ll be right back.” He then slipped out the door, but was back before I knew it. It couldn’t have been more than three minutes, tops. He had a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair was still soaking wet, with rivulets of water dripping down onto his torso and then down his chest and back.
“Looks like someone was eager,” I commented with a smirk as I appraisingly admired his body. At fifty, Trevor was fit and trim. His hair was balding, but he was still as handsome as the boy I fell in love with when I was fourteen.
It was almost comical, watching him advance on the bed, his erection growing by the millisecond. I couldn’t help but laugh at the way his towel was tented so far outward that it might as well not have been there.
Reaching for his waist, I pulled at the towel, removing it and dropping it to the floor. Trevor was absolutely gorgeous. There was no denying it. He still retained the boyish good looks I remembered from our early years together.
Trevor was leaking heavily, so I leaned forward and lapped up the pre-cum that was dripping from the end of his glorious member. Grabbing hold of his ass cheeks, I pulled him the rest of the way forward, swallowing his long, thin manhood to the hilt. When I did so, Trevor threw his head back and let out a loud, guttural moan. I hated to think of our children hearing that but, like it or not, it was undoubtedly nothing they hadn’t heard before in spite of our best efforts at keeping quiet. When it came to lovemaking, my baby was just plain loud.
After I’d bobbed up and down on his shaft only a few times, Trevor pushed my face away and said, “Kurt, please. I want to cum so bad, but not yet. You’ve got me ready to blow!”
Looking up at him, at the pure love I saw in his eyes, I pulled back the sheets and he got in bed with me. Our lips came together and our tongues explored each other's mouth. We made out the way we did when we were teenagers exploring the new boundaries of our love.
~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~
Friday, October 31, 2008 - Thirty-five Years Earlier
“I still think you’re gonna roast in that outfit,” I said as I admired the way the tight-fitting batman costume accentuated my boyfriend’s physique. It was our first Halloween together as boyfriends, and it would be the first time I’d be spending the night on a sleepover with Trevor since we returned from serving as counselors at a summer camp for disadvantaged youth.
It had been a hell of a summer - one in which I’d seen the worst things imaginable, in which I’d been beaten and raped and then abducted at knifepoint, certain I’d never be seen alive again. I didn’t just think I was gonna die - I knew I was gonna die and, yet, I somehow managed to keep a level head and to make a move when the opportunity presented itself. I overpowered my attacker, got help from the police, saw that he was brought to justice and even raised funds to see to it that all the boys who’d been abused would receive counseling until they reached the age of eighteen.
And even after all that had happened, Trevor and I went back and served as counselors for the third and final session of the season. Our parents had thought we were crazy. The camp director had thought we were crazy but he didn’t stop us. In retrospect I was glad we went back. Trevor and I needed to return. We needed to live our lives as normally as possible.
The one thing that had changed, however, was that there was no denying we were boyfriends anymore. We’d started out the summer tentatively at first, exploring our feelings for each other and getting to know each other better. Of course I was already madly in love with Trevor and, as it turned out, he’d been madly in love with me ever since I warned him about what my father was trying to do to the GSA. The only reason Trevor had been holding back was the differences in our ages. He was sixteen and I was only fourteen, but about to turn fifteen in November. We were really only a year-and-a-half apart and that hardly mattered in the scheme of things. Who cares about a nineteen-month age difference when you’re in love? By the time we were old, like in our fifties, the difference would seem like nothing at all.
Anyway, after the camp incident, we made no secret of the fact we were in love. We admitted it pretty much to everyone and, more importantly, we admitted it to ourselves.
But that didn’t mean we jumped in the sack with each other every chance we got. No, although we personally believed there was nothing wrong with two people who loved each other having sex, I wasn’t ready just yet. I’d survived a brutal rape and it would prolly be some time before I was ready to give my body freely to the one I loved. Besides which, there was still the possibility I would turn out to be HIV positive and there was no way in hell I was gonna take a chance on infecting Trevor. As far as I was concerned, sex wasn’t even an option until I knew I was clean. Just because you use condoms doesn’t make sex safe. That’s why they call it ‘safer sex’.
So now it was Halloween and Trevor and I were getting ready to go to the GSA’s second annual Halloween Costume Party. This was a big deal because Trevor was now the president of the GSA, and I was going as his date. The party wasn’t supposed to start until seven but we had to be there extra early, ’cause, well, Trevor was the president and he had to be sure everything was ready. We needed to leave in an hour to get there at 5:30, giving us an hour-and-a-half to be sure everything was perfect.
And it needed to be perfect this year. Last year’s party, the first Halloween party the GSA had ever held, had been marred by events that happened afterwards. The party had been attended by Will Smith and his straight brother, Barry, as well as by Will’s boyfriend, Jamie Wilson. Will and Barry’s father was blatantly homophobic and took it upon himself to take his sons hostage as well as the entire Wilson family. It did not end well. Before the night was over, both of the Smith parents were dead, but things sure could have turned out a whole lot worse! Thanks to Barry’s heroism, everyone else was saved. Barry was now the vice president of the GSA even though he was straight, and he’d become a good friend.
Still, the stain of last year’s events would undoubtedly hang over this year’s party. Trevor was determined to see the GSA move past it all and he was pulling out all the stops to make this year’s party one to remember. However, I was more nervous about what would happen after the party, when I spent the night with my boyfriend. We’d both already agreed that nothing would happen, but it was still a big deal.
Trevor and I were dressing up as Batman and the Joker. With the summer’s main box office hit being The Dark Knight, the latest episode in the Batman saga, it was prolly inevitable that a lot of couples at tonight’s party would be dressed as we were. For a while we thought of going as the primary characters from the latest Indian Jones movie, The Kingdom of the Crystal Skull and, while Trevor would have made a most excellent Indiana Jones, I wouldn’t have been a very convincing Mutt Williams - not that he was a particularly recognizable character in the first place. Then Trevor suggested I dress in drag and play the more important role of Irina Spalco and I told him in no uncertain terms that there was no fucking way I was dressing in drag. So we were going as Batman and the Joker. Not very original, but safe.
Yeah, Trevor looked hot as hell in his Batman outfit. I even talked him into wearing contacts instead of his glasses. Personally, I preferred the way he looked in glasses and he certainly preferred the way he saw with glasses than with contacts, but Batman didn’t wear glasses.
On the other hand, well, I didn’t make a convincing Joker, even with all the makeup I wore. Trevor told me I looked hot too but, come on, I was the Joker. There was nothing sexy about the Joker, at all. Truthfully I looked like what I was - a geeky teen dressed in gaudy makeup. I didn’t look sexy - I looked silly, but it was a hell of a lot better than dressing in drag.
Once we’d finally gotten our costumes just right, we hopped into Trevor’s Jetta and made a quick stop at the Arby’s on North Meridian, grabbing a couple of roast beef sandwiches each and some of their incredible fries. The girl at the drive-up window hardly gave us a glance, but then I spotted quite a few folks in costume in the drive-up lane.
Anyway, we wolfed down the first of our sandwiches as we drove over to the Student Center, where the party was being held. Sure, there would be refreshments served at the party but we hadn’t eaten since lunch. We were teenagers, after all, and we were starving!
“Hey, Trevor, Kurt,” Barry Smith greeted us as we walked in the door. There were a few other volunteers helping to set things up, but that was it for the time being.
Placing his hand on Barry’s shoulder, Trevor asked, “How are you holding up, Bare?”
I could see a flash of sadness in Barry’s eyes as I was sure he was prolly remembering the events of last year, and perhaps remembering the loss of his parents, but then he got a smile on his face and he said, “I’m doing OK, Trev. You know, I thought this would be hard, but it’s not. Yeah, I miss Mom and Dad, but I have a new Ma and Pa who treat me much better than my real parents ever did. More important, they treat Will real good, and they accept him and Jamie for who they are. My life’s never been better!”
Perhaps Barry was just putting on a show, but I got the sense that he really was at peace with himself. One thing was for sure - his way of talking, his mannerisms and the way he carried himself had changed dramatically in the last year. Before he sounded kinda like a country hick. Now he sounded intelligent. I was sure he’d always been intelligent, but he prolly didn’t want to sound any different than the others the kids at school called ‘river rats’ - kids that lived in the poorest neighborhoods in the school district, in places near the river that frequently flooded. Now that he and Will lived with the Wilsons over in Greenbriar, they were entirely new people. Greenbriar wasn’t nearly as affluent as where Trevor lived or even where I lived, but it was solidly middle class.
Trevor and I wolfed down our other sandwiches and our fries as we helped get things ready for the party. At 6:30, the DJ arrived and started setting up. The party was a dance and I was hoping I’d spend a lot of the night dancing with my boyfriend.
Before we knew it, it was seven and the doors were opened to the public. At first, things were pretty slow going as singles and couples started to trickle in. By 7:30, there were around thirty kids enjoying the refreshments, dancing on the floor and having a good time. By eight, there were more than a hundred in attendance. Wow! Obviously, a lot of our straight members were at the party, too. That didn’t seem to matter, though. I saw guys I knew were straight dancing with gay guys. I even saw gay guys dancing with girls, and vice versa. Hell, I danced a few dances with some of the girls, and I even danced a dance with Barry. Most of the time, however, I danced with Trevor. He was my one and only.
Before I knew it, it was ten and the party was officially over. Although the music stopped promptly at ten, a lot of the kids stayed and just enjoyed being with their friends. When we started the chore of cleaning up, however, most everyone suddenly decided they had to be somewhere else. Surprisingly, quite a few of our friends did stay to help, so we had the place spotless before it was even midnight.
By the time we got home, I could scarcely wonder why I’d been nervous about spending the night with Trevor. We were both dead tired and sex was the last thing on our minds. We both got undressed and took showers, ’cause we both stank pretty bad from dancing in our over-heated costumes. Removing my makeup was a lot harder than I’d realized it would be but, once I was done, it sure felt good to be myself again. After brushing our teeth, we climbed into Trevor’s queen-size bed and were soon fast asleep.
No, there was no worry about anything happening that evening, but when morning came around, I awoke to find myself completely tangled up in someone else’s arms. As consciousness returned, I slowly realized I was entangled in Trevor Austin, the sexiest boy on the planet. Neither one of us was wearing any clothes - a minor detail that hadn’t seemed all that important when we went to bed last night, but now our erections were pulsing against one another. I could have probably taken my baby right there but, man, did I have to pee!
Thank God Trevor had his own en suite bathroom, so I just made a beeline for it and the toilet inside. I must have unloaded my bladder for a full five minutes - at least it seemed that way. Once I’d finished, I took a look at the clock and noticed that it was already after one in the afternoon! Man, I couldn’t believe we’d practically slept the day away.
After quickly brushing my teeth, I headed back into the bedroom, where a very groggy Trevor was sitting up in bed. His hair was mussed up and sticking out to one side, and he was rubbing his eyes as he tried to focus without the benefit of his glasses. God, he was abso-fucking-lutely adorable!
“What time is it?” he asked as he reached over and retrieved his glasses from the night table.
“One-sixteen,” I answered as I returned to bed and gave him a quick peck on the lips.
“Shit, I can’t believe we slept through the whole morning,” he replied, and then he added, “and I can’t believe I went the whole morning without getting up to pee, but now I can’t wait a second longer!”
Trevor didn’t even bother to close the door as he pissed into the toilet, full throttle for the longest time, and then I heard him brushing his teeth, just as I had.
Moments later, hair combed, he returned to the bed, removed his glasses and got under the covers with me. Bringing his face to mine, he joined his lips to mine and our tongues started to explore each other’s mouth.
We made out like crazy, kissing each other on the mouth, the neck, all over our torsos and even licking each other's armpits. There was something so incredibly fucking arousing about the scent of Trevor after a night’s sleep, and licking him where the scent was most potent was nearly enough to send me over the edge.
As we made out, we became more daring and our mouths ventured lower and lower, but there was a line I wasn’t ready to cross yet and Trevor seemed to sense it, and didn’t push it further.
Even still, we were horny as hell and we were naked in bed together, making out like crazy as our throbbing cocks were leaking a steady stream of pre-cum and rubbing against each other. In retrospect it was prolly inevitable but, during a particularly hot and heavy session of lip wrestling in which we were aggressively humping each other, suddenly Trevor went stiff, he cried out my name and I felt a warm wetness spread all over my torso as jets of Trevor’s jism spurted out with an intensity I never knew he had. That was enough to send me over the edge, too, and my spunk was soon joining Trevor’s, spreading between our bodies.
As we came down from our respective highs, Trevor seemed saddened and tears started to come to his eyes.
“What’s wrong, Trevor?” I asked.
“I’m sorry, Kurt,” he answered. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?” I asked incredulously.
“Because I came, Kurt,” he replied. “I actually came, and I made you cum too when I promised we wouldn’t do anything.”
“Why should you be sorry about that?” I asked. “It’s not like you forced me at gunpoint to have sex with you. I know we didn’t plan it this way, but you are so fucking sexy and I love you so Goddamn much. I couldn’t help myself any more than you could! What happened, happened, Trev. I don’t think I’m ready for regular sex, but I don’t in any way regret what happened. Frankly, I wouldn’t mind if it happened again, and I can’t wait until we’re both ready to go further . . . a lot further.”
It was cute the way Trevor blushed when I said that, but the smile that lit up his face was what I’d always remember . . .
~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~
Sunday, March 29, 2043 - Nine Days after the Assassination
“Kurt?” I heard in the fog of my emerging consciousness. “Come on, Honey. We need to get up.”
“What time is it?” I sleepily asked.
“It’s almost eight o’clock.”
“Fuck!” I responded. “The first night we had for real sleep and we spent half of it making love.”
“And you’re objecting?” Trevor asked.
“Not on your life,” I replied with a smile before planting a kiss on my husband’s lips. “Last night was fucking fantastic!”
“That it was,” Trevor agreed and then, wrinkling his nose, he said, “but shit, it really stinks in here. The kids are surely going to know what we were up to.”
I had to agree that the smell was strong - well, more like overpowering - but I wouldn’t have changed a thing. “I guess they’re going to know just how much we love each other,” I replied.
“I think they already know that,” Trevor countered, “but no kid likes to think of their parents having sex.” Unfortunately, I had to sheepishly agree. Perhaps I could find some room freshener in the bathroom to use.
Again remembering the night, I said, “I wouldn't trade one moment of what we did last night for anything, though.” Yeah, I actually lost track of how many times we came as we sucked each other off and made love in the most personal way. I especially loved it when Trevor finally lowered himself onto my pole, riding me for all I was worth. When he came, it was a sight of true beauty as his face contorted into an intense look of pure pleasure, sweat dripping down onto my body. His jism rocketed out his member with force I hadn’t seen since we were teenagers, his spunk flying over my head and landing in my hair and in my eager mouth, sending me right over the edge for an absolutely earth-shattering orgasm.
“I am so lucky that this is all mine,” Trevor added as he yanked on my member, reminding me of just how full my bladder was.
Getting up and searching for a robe with folds thick enough to hide my erection, I replied with, “You just love me because I’m well endowed.”
“No way, sweetheart,” Trevor responded. “Yeah, I sure as hell love it that you’ve got what you’ve got, but I’d still love you if it shriveled up to nothing. It’s you I love, Kurt. It’s the kind, wonderful, loving man you are that I love. The sex is nice, but loving you is what it’s all about.”
“I feel the same way, Baby,” I replied as I gave my husband another quick peck on the lips. Trevor wasn’t nearly as well endowed as I was but what he had was more than enough for me. His was long and lean and I liked it that way.
Finally making my way to the one bathroom we shared with our kids, I emptied my bladder, took a quick shower, brushed my teeth and, for the first time in nearly a week, shaved. I didn’t have much facial hair, but by then my beard was noticeable.
Three bleary-eyed teens and young adults emerged from their two bedrooms as I emerged from the bathroom. I put on a pot of coffee and started making some toast in the tiny area that functioned as our kitchen in the Underground White House. Proper meals were eaten in the communal dining areas, not in individual living quarters. That Trevor and I had our own apartment with our kids was only because we were cabinet-level appointees.
It was as Trevor finally joined us that the phone rang. Being closer, I answered it.
“Good morning, Kurt,” I heard Debbie McLaughlin say. “I need to speak to Trevor, but you might as well know, although the need to keep this secret for now should be evident. With the help of the analysis of video holographic data that Trevor had running overnight, we finally managed to track down the whereabouts of the President.”
“Holy fuck!” I answered, not being mindful of our kids seated nearby.
“He returned to his office . . .” she started to explain, but I interrupted.
“The Oval Office? Didn’t we think to look there first?” I asked.
“No, Kurt, not the Oval office,” Deb answered. “Not the one here underground, nor the original upstairs. No, he returned to his Congressional office in the Rayburn Office building. I guess he felt more comfortable returning to the space he knew so well.”
“I would have never thought of looking for him there,” I admitted, failing to remember that Schroeder had been the President for scarcely more than a week. “So what have you gotten out of him so far? Did he tell you why he ran?” I asked. “Did he confess to setting off the EMP device? Did he even know about it? Did he . . .”
“Kurt, President Schroeder’s dead.”
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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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