Chapter One

1.1 Jaimee and Simon early morning

It wasn’t the sunlight peeking through the blinds that woke him up . . . two fingers crept slowly up his backbone and across his shoulders, creating erotic waves of pleasure. He lay there until his body woke from its slumber and he could lose himself in the delicious sensory feelings the fingers induced. Now they traced their way slowly down his backbone until they went deep into private territory and began to massage his buttocks. He gasped as they began to explore his anus. Never could he imagine deriving such pleasure from that part of his anatomy.

Probing, teasing, demanding he felt his need surge as the fingers continued their invasion. Desire, craving, and animal necessity turned him into a quivering mess. Faintly he heard a voice pleading, begging. . . not recognizing it was he, himself.

Ten minutes later, fully satiated, he felt Simon withdraw and turn over on his back.

‘And good morning to you lover-boy. What a way to wake up. What was your name again?’

‘I didn’t give you a name, after all, I’m just a guy you picked up for a one-night-stand, aren’t I?’

‘Well, I wonder if you’d consider being my one-night-stand for the rest of my life. I could get used to waking up like that.’

‘You’re a dork, Jaimee (throwing a pillow at him). It was good, wasn’t it? Every time we fuck seems it just gets better. I love being inside you.’

‘Mmmm . . . and it’s only been three years. Every time we fuck it feels like I’ve just lost my virginity for the first time. We’re doing well aren’t we Simon? I mean besides the sex we’re good together. Any regrets?’

‘Only I can’t (rolling over and facing Jaimee) get enough of you. I love your mind, your body, and your unselfish nature. Sometimes I think I don’t deserve you.’

Jaimee pulled Simon’s head towards him and they kissed deeply. When they finally parted, Jaimee looked deep into Simon’s hazel eyes, and . . .

‘If anyone were to tell me, sweetie, that three years ago, I’d have a beautiful boy like you as my lover I wouldn’t have believed it. I’ve watched others when we’re in company, and it just thrills me when I see both males and females looking at you, some with lust, but mostly admiration. you don’t know your own power mate.’

‘Shut up liar. (running his fingers across Jaimee’s lips) If it’s another fuck yer after . . .’

Jaimee reached over fondled Simon’s hard erection which was now at full mast.

‘Well now, what have we here. This looks really painful. No, no, it wouldn’t be right to leave you in pain. So let me see if I can fix this.’

Jaimee lowered his head and soon his experienced ministrations had Simon thrashing around wildly. Jaimee’s technique was to bring his patient to the edge and then retreat. This denied the epididymis its natural function of contraction so semen could be ejected. An incredible pressure began to build up in Simon’s epididymis which was being denied. The torment continued until Jaimee, taking pity on his now whimpering lover, let Simon’s body go past the point of no return. As waves of pure ecstasy pulsed through Simon, he experienced a loud, shattering, and messy climax.

Eventually, Jaimee lay back and listened as Simon gradually recovered from his orgasm.

‘Man, that was . . . fantastic! I don’t know where you learned that technique but . . . oh my god, I thought I was gonna explode. you’ve drained me lover. My balls are so, so empty. Sorry if I made a mess.’

‘No you’re not . . . and neither am I. I just love watching and hearing you cum. In a sense, you’re my patient and I’m your doctor. I like doing good . . . and you taste good.’

For several; moments the two lads just stayed silent each with his own thoughts. But soon the need for other sustenance prevailed.

‘Alright Mr. one-night-stand, how about breakfast. We gotta prepare for a working day. How about I start coffee going and make some toast?’

‘I can’t move. you not only drained my balls but all my energy. I gotta get my strength back.’

‘Well, don’t take too long: you got any house showings today? you said last night you had to exchange contracts on the Ferguson property today. That’s exciting, isn’t it? I mean you’re up for a big commission when they settle.’

‘Yeah, yeah. My boss Wendy keeps telling me I’m a natural Real Estate Agent, but I don’t know, I just try and talk to people on a personal level without applying any trade pressure. Folks want to be free to make up their own minds. I just try and guide them.’

‘(laughing) Mate it also sure helps that you’re drop-dead gorgeous.’

‘Wha . . . what do you mean?’

Jaimee got out of bed still naked and looked down on his lover.

‘Let’s start with your cupid lips. They simply demand to be kissed and I’m sure many guys would succumb to the urge. Add to that you’re a blond with sparkling hazel eyes that just seem to mesmerize. Add to that you’re superbly muscled and nearly six feet tall. I’d say that’s a package that could convert the Pope into being a Muslim.’

‘Hey! Wait there. Are you saying it’s only my looks, that I don’t have any talent to sell real estate?

‘Yes.’

‘Yes . . . what?’

‘Both dummy. you’re not only drop-dead gorgeous but you also have talent; you said it yourself. You don’t like applying pressure; you let people make up their own minds. Many agents I’ve come across are so hungry for a sale they really do try and pressure folks into buying. But I warn you; if you ever use your physical attraction to seduce anyone else I’ll be a bit cranky. y’hear!’

Just then a furious scratching and whimpering told them their little Fox Terrier Cross ‘Mickey’ had woken up and demanded attention. Jaimee opened the bedroom door and a bundle of frantic canine exuberance stormed into the room and jumped on a naked Simon.

‘Hey . . . shit! Stop, stop . . . OH YUK! I don’t want to be licked. I love you Mikey but . . . Jaimee, get him off me, he’s sniffing my cock . . .’

Jaimee burst out laughing as he watched Mikey affectionately attack Simon; a Simon who now had his hand down low protecting his genitals.

‘Mikey! Mikey! Here boy. Let Daddy cuddle you.’

The dog abandoned Simon’s genitals and rushed to his other master, his tail threatening lift-off. Jaimee picked him up and gave him a smooch before returning the dog to the floor.

‘C’mon Mikey, let’s give your other daddy time to get up and get dressed. C’mon, how about some milk?’

Putting on a pair of boxers and tee shirt Jaimee and Mikey moved to the kitchen. Immersed in starting the coffee machine and preparing racks of toast, he didn’t hear Simon enter. That is until a pair of muscled arms encircled him and lips gently kissed the back of his neck. Then fingers began to drift downwards and . . .

‘Stop! Stop! (laughing) you horney bugger, haven’t you had enough sex for one morning? I don’t see . . .’

‘The question is have you had enough sex sweet Jaimee? I could easily . . .’

‘(giggling) Firstly I can never have too much sex with you, but secondly, I’ve got to get to work lover-man, so why don’t you just drown yer hormones in a cup of fresh coffee . . . please?’

‘OK, OK. But remember that juicy arse is mine and if you use it to seduce anyone else I’ll be a bit more than cranky . . . y’hear?’

‘Touché! Here’s yer toast. Coffee’s ready and there’s butter and jam on the table. Now go and use that sexy cake-hole of yours for sustenance.’

Simon busied himself buttering toast but couldn’t keep his eyes off Jaimee’s boxer clad bum.

‘Y’know Jaimee, you reckon you’re part aboriginal but apart from yer natural tan, dark hair, and beautiful brown eyes you don’t look anything like an abbo. And of course, there’s yer bum. Most abbos have narrow small glutes but you have the most rounded, muscled, and sexy bum I’ve ever had the pleasure of . . . of, perving on. Why is that?’

‘Why is what?’

‘Why don’t you look like an abbo, dear?’

Jaimee returned to the breakfast table with a cup of coffee and several rounds of toast. He sat pensively considering Simon’s question. He’d been asked the same thing before.

‘Well, my great- great- grandfather was an elder of the Darug tribe near Sydney in New South Wales. Now several generations have passed and I’ve more Caucasian blood than Aboriginal. Don’t get me wrong (taking a sip of coffee) I’m proud of my, as you say, abbo blood but I’m just as proud of my Irish ancestry.’

‘Interesting. I often wonder (spreading apricot jam on a fresh piece of toast) about blokes that don’t appear to be abbos but are strident for abbo rights. Why aren’t you like that?’

‘Yep, I know what you mean and I’m embarrassed by these blokes. Embarrassed? No more angry. They come across as wingers and really hurt any genuine grievances that Aboriginals have. To me, they’re just parasites and I’ve no time for them. Want more coffee?’

‘Sure, thanks. But you never seem concerned about the genuine grievances that abbos have. We whites have not played nice with abbos since the first settlers. I read a lot about what Christianity did to black families in the name of Jesus Christ. How they . . .’

‘Yeah, I know. But that’s all in the past and at least Kevin Rudd when Prime Minister had the courage to say ‘sorry’. By the way, be careful when you refer to black folks as ‘Abbos’. True Aboriginals regard the term offensive because that’s what the white settlers called them after they were dispossessed of their land. It’s alright at home but . . .’

‘I hear ya. I hear ya. I don’t mean any disrespect; it’s just a bad Aussie habit to shorten long words into smaller ones. It’s a national pastime.’

‘Noted! (looking intensely at Simon) Are you at all disturbed or ashamed of my Aboriginal heritage?’

Simon was about to eat his toast when Jaimee’s question stopped him.

‘WHAT! Where did that come from? Of course not! No, no, no; don’t you dare even think that. I love you mate and envy yer natural tan. Every summer I nearly burn meself to a crisp just to get a tan like yours. Anyway, enough of that. How’s your job going?’

‘You mean my job as a rooky Certified Public Accountant doing boring audit work. That job?’

‘(laughing) yeah, that job. It can’t be that boring for the money they pay you. Anyway, if it’s boring why don’t you ask for a change?’

‘I will eventually. It’s just that every rooky has to spend time doing audit work. It’s mandatory. Soon I hope to transfer to Taxation. There I can meet real people and help them restructure their finances. y’know, laugh and joke with another human being; not just green tick other people’s work.’

Simon finished eating his toast and took a final swig of coffee. He looked uncertainly at Jaimee.

‘Do they know you’re gay?’

‘WHAT! NO! That’s my private business and no-one else’s. The question was never asked nor will it be. Simon, the only private matter I disclosed was on the question of religion. I answered ‘Atheist’.

‘Good for you. Now we’d better get ready for the outside world. (leering) I don’t suppose while we're in the bedroom we couldn’t . . .’

‘(giggling) My god you’re impossible. But now you mention it, I’m feeling a little horny. Do you think . . .?’

‘C’mon sexy’ . . . and led Jaimee back to the bedroom. The dog wisely settled on his bed.

1.2 Jaimee’s Mother Calls

Jaimee sat in a line of cars crawling along the main freeway into Melbourne when his cell phone rang. It was his mother. He considered refusing the call but decided he needed the distraction.

‘Hello, mother.’

‘Why haven’t you called me? I’m left alone here. No one rings me, no one visits me, I don’t get any mail like some of the other residents. you’re cruel to leave an old woman – your mother – all alone. I wish the good lord would come and take me to his bosom so I can leave this dreary life. Then what will you do, huh? What will you do when I’m not around? you’ll be sorry that you’ve treated me this way. But then it will be too late and you’ll forever . . .’

‘OH for shit sake can it . . .’

‘Don’t you dare swear at me! I’m your mother and demand respect. It’s because you turned your face away from God and chose to live the life of a . . . of a . . .’

‘POOFTER! Say it mother dear; yes, your son’s a faggott and likes taking it up the arse . . .’

‘STOP IT! I was going to say a . . . homosexual. yes that’s what you are a . . . a . . . homosexual and may god forgive you. Of course, I blame your father . . .’

‘Did you have any reason to call me mother? Do you need more money? Just tell the Head Nurse and I’ll put some more money into your account. I don’t need you ranting and wailing in my ear every time you call. If you don’t have anything pleasant to say then don’t call me!’

‘(pathetic sobbing) Waa . . waa . . . I’m all alone and frightened. No one loves me; no one cares. I wish I was . . .’

‘Dead? you wish you were dead? Well, why don’t you hurry up and die so we can get some peace.’

And hung up.

For fuck’s sake! Why doesn’t that woman leave me alone? Why me? Always me! She never harasses my brother even though he treats her like shit. Yes, my druggie brother; seems the more he despises her the more she loves him. Maybe it’s just guilt? Being born with a withered hand has created a weird bond between . . . almost a love, hate relationship; but I’m getting fed up. Of course, she abhors me being gay if only because she won’t have any grandkids . . . by me. I don’t know if Philip in his perpetual drugged state can produce progeny, nor do I care. Next time I’m gonna tell her she either accepts who I am or I’ll cease to have any contact with either of them. Time for me to move on!

1.3 Arriving at Work

‘What’s going on Kristy? Seems like everyone’s a bit excited about something.’

He checked in with the senior partner’s secretary because as soon as Jaimee arrived at work he sensed something in the air. The normally staid office atmospherics had a buzz that didn’t fit with a sedate, old Accounting firm. Normally staff had their heads down attending to the boring minutiae of other people’s finances. Now there was a subdued murmur all over the office. Some were talking softly to each other, whilst others were communicating through inter-office phones.

‘Well, you’re late . . .’

‘Yeah, the traffic on the Monash Freeway was bloody awful this morning. Seems there was an accident earlier . . .’

‘OK, Ok. We all received an inter-office email saying that the firm had just signed a big new client called Shepherd Ministries. Apparently, they’re really big and flush with dough-ray-me, so it could mean a lift in all our wages. That’s what all the hubbub’s about.’

‘Shit, them! I know about them. They’re a big fundamentalist Christian mob that insists on pure Bible literacy, denies evolution, opposes abortion and feminism, and wants to exterminate all gays. Lovely people. I hope, I hope I don’t get involved, because . . .’

‘Don’t like your chance, mate. Andrew, your team leader, got called into the senior partner's office just after the announcement and he’s still there.’

‘Ewwwe! Thanks for the heads up, Kristy. Maybe I’ll just get some coffee and pray I don’t get involved.’

‘(giggling) I thought atheists didn’t believe in prayer? you sound like you might be turning to the dark side. Lot’s of luck with the prayer and (pssst), say a prayer for me that I’ll get laid tonight.’

‘(laughing) you’re terrible Kristy; I’ll do my best.’

Jaimee settled himself in his cubicle and booted up his Monitor. As no files had been returned following Partner review, he dragged the next case from his new work shelf.

‘OH SHIT!’

Out fluttered a series of crumpled papers that had the distinctive smell of cow shit on them . . . as well as other suspicious streaks. Obviously, this client was a farmer of sorts and Jaimee’s job was to take all these pieces of paper, make up some sort of Income and Expenditure statement and prepare a family tax return.

The cow shit was a bonus.

Just as he’d started making journal entries, a familiar face poked over his cubicle partition.

‘Hi Jaimee. How are you this morning?’

‘(Warily) Hi Andrew . . . Look I’ve just started the Murray’s accounts. Do you want me . . .?’

‘Forget them. Need to talk about a new client the Senior partner wants our best people to concentrate on. How about you follow me to the Conference room.’

With a fluttering stomach and shoes made of lead, he followed his team Leader into the room they used for staff meetings. Guardedly, he sat down.

‘I guess you’ve heard about the firm getting the Shephard Ministries account? (Jaimee nodded). Well you, Barbara, and I are being tasked by the Senior to work the account. We’ll also pick up some under-grads on the way to help. It’s a biggie, believe me, a real biggie in terms of fees. We’ll have to balance being diplomatic, whilst at the same time using our best professional judgment and expertise. you with me?’

‘Of course mate. But what does it entail? They aren’t a public company; as much as I know there are only two principles . . . Mr. and Mrs. Hudson. Why would they want a firm our size to audit? I take it we are doing an audit?’

‘Of course. Here’s the Senior Partners brief; study what’s there, bone up on any info you can find on the Shephards, and we’ll have a more detailed pow-wow. I’ve also asked Barbara to do the same. Incidentally, try not to be late if you can; those things are noticed.’

‘Sorry, as I explained to Kirsty, the Monash Freeway was a shambles this morning. I usually check traffic conditions as soon as I get up each morning. I got involved in something else this morning that distracted me . . . Sorry!’

‘Cool! Say I know you classify yourself as an Atheist. Will working on the Shephard’s accounts cause any problems personally?’

‘NO . . . of course not! I’m a qualified CPA and I’ll do my job professionally regardless who the client is. you have my word.’

‘Don’t doubt it, mate. Just thought I should ask. Incidentally . . . who was she?’

‘Who was who?’

‘The Sheila you fucked last night that made you late to work.’

(Chuckling) Piss off mate . . . a gentleman never tells. Would you tell?’

(Laughing) Go on . . . get outta here. We’ll meet again this arvo.’

<<<>>>

Jaimee returned to his cubicle and studied the Partners brief. Deciding he needed more background on the client, he Googled Shephard Ministries and luckily found a Wikipedia page. The information sheet didn’t pull any punches. It told of a Megachurch that had risen from a somewhat shady past into a world-wide organization. There was even a branch in Israel.

After certain amalgamations, and certain dubious associations, the current church was headed by a husband and wife team . . . Bernard and Cynthia Hudson. They both had the title ‘Pastor’. But the main control existed in a board of ‘Elders’ (whatever that meant) who sat basically as a board of Directors, re-elected annually.

But the biggest surprise was Bernard’s father Richard. He’d been charged with soliciting and having sex with under-aged boys. Nine to be precise. Astoundingly, the truth had been discovered by his son, Bernard but never reported to the cops. Richard eventually broke down and admitted to having seduced many other boys. This appalled the Ministry Elders, but instead of turning the bastard in, they allowed him to resign quietly. One of the Elders set up a meeting between Richard Hudson and one of his victims. At a McDonald's restaurant $10, 000 was handed over as an inducement for the victim to shut up.

Eventually, the matter leaked, and when a Royal Commission (basically a Grand Jury) into child molesting by church institutions heard about the matter, Bernard Hudson (the son) was charged with concealing evidence.

What the fuck is going on here? I wonder if the Senior Partner knows about the criminal cover-up? Is this one of the reasons our firm has been called in? This is murky and weird. I get the feeling someone has an ulterior motive and we’re the pawns. Also, the Wikipedia article mentioned something about paying staff with tax-free fringe benefits. There’s also a suspicion that tax-free Government Grants had been diverted by the family for personal gain. Fuck this is gonna be a scary ride.

That afternoon Jaimee met with Andrew and Barbara and revealed his findings. By the look on Andrew's face, he knew nothing about the criminal activity. They decided to do nothing at this time and just concentrate on the audit protocol.

As an opener, Andrew and Jaimee were scheduled to meet with the Hudsons tomorrow morning. For his part, Jaimee went home that night with a mild case of foreboding.

1.4 At the Opium Den

The enticing aroma of Chinese cooking coming from the restaurant below chased him down the narrow corridor into the stuffy backroom foyer. It wasn’t the food aroma that had his juices flowing. Over the past few months, he’s sought relief from emotional pressure by ‘chasing the dragon’. Opium dens in Melbourne had been numerous in the past but had gradually declined until all but a few remained. It took him some time and research to find an acceptable venue.

The semi-sweet aroma of vinegar wafted through the heavy brocade curtains that screened the foyer from the ‘backroom’. His mouth watered in expectation. Soon an ancient Chinese lady appeared and, wordlessly, motioned him to follow; he was, after all, a regular customer.

Surprisingly the interior reflected a past grandeur but with modern furnishings. Cubicles that could be screened off for privacy, stretched away on both sides of a central walkway. Already several clients lay languidly on couches obviously deep in the folds of the ‘dragon’. Smoldering pipes lay alongside within easy reach.

The ancient lady led him right to the back where a cubicle had been prepared and invited him to lay back. A sense of complete privacy, of being disassociated with the outside world, of being cocooned fetus-like from reality, embraced him even before he began to smoke. Now completely relaxed she handed him a prepared pipe and the means to light-up the bowl of wonderful product.

Taking a long drag, he let the drug work its magic.

Ahhh . . . so beautiful . . . so wonderful . . . I’m drifting away . . . Away from my father’s pompous sermons . . . my mother’s screeching platitudes. How I hate them and all they stand for. The hypocrisy . . . the sheer hypocrisy. The whole set up’s rotten to the core. But I’m trapped aren’t I. Without the money I’d be poor . . . my life-style non-existent . . . My grandfather . . . yes, him . . . they don’t know that I was one of his victims . . . how he abused me sexually . . . My secret . . . my shame . . . my cross to bear. They never asked . . . they just assumed he did it to others . . . after all you don’t abuse your own kin . . . do you?. . . do you?

Slowly Paul George Hudson faded away leaving, at least for a few short hours, his troubled world behind him.

1.5 A Threesome

The older male lay back completely nude, whilst his two equally nude young partners performed carnal acts. One young boy performed oral sex on the erect penis. The other boy had his small penis in the older boy’s mouth whilst fingers explored his young anus.

As they worked the older lad would comment on their efforts. They were being trained as sex courtesans to give pleasure to the male body. Now after several sessions, their skill level had exceeded the older boy’s expectations.

. . . and they were barely twelve years old.