Splash On The Web - 12. Chapter 12 Exit Stage Right

The final scenes to wrap up the video production had gone surprising well. Physically, Rory was in ‘hard’ form and knew he looked hot. But not so hot were his masked emotions. The detectives’ visit to his home the previous afternoon was gnawing away in the back of his mind – even though the police had found nothing. As he slammed in and out of Baby for the cameras, Rory replayed the events of the past weekend in his mind. ‘Did I forget anything?’ he wondered as he drove home the last shot.

“Ohhh, let me see it splash me,” Baby shrieked with a guttural grunt. ‘It’ was the signature power shot of Rory’s semen that would finish the scene.

‘”Urghh, ahhh, uhhh,” Rory groaned loudly as he pulled out of the actress and quickly peeled off his condom. He balanced himself on his knees between her raised legs and thrust his pelvis forward. ‘Thank God she shaved today,’ he thought as his exposed cock slid over her bristle-free pubic area, ‘and I don’t have to worry about twat-burn.’ Out of the range of the camera, he tossed away the used rubber.

Baby grabbed his glistening erection and deliberately stroked Rory’s ‘G’ spot underneath his reddened, mushroom-shaped glans. “You’re so big.” She smiled and slowly licked her upper lip.

“Do it, do it, do it now…uhhh.” His eyes squeezed shut with exaggerated ecstasy as his primary ‘money shot’ splattered Baby’s dimpled face. He uttered a long, “Fuuuuuuuck,” as that gusher was followed by more, smaller but impressive, eruptions.

“Mmmmm…you stud,” Baby growled with untamed throatiness from her diaphragm as she writhed below him and fluttered her pronounced eyelashes.

“That was mighty fine,” Rory replied in his fake Southern drawl. “Ah sho’ needed some lovin’.” He opened his eyes and turned on his trademark ‘got-it-off-good’ smile – first looking at Baby and then into the camera lens. ‘God, can this cornpone dialogue get any hokier?’ he thought as he snarled with a heavy breath. He casually glanced at the pearl-white, moist residue that trailed down her silicone-enhanced breasts, spattered her stomach and finally pooled in a puddle at her navel. He was proud that he had aggressively screwed this slut convincingly for the camera. The pullout had been just in time for the choreographed climax.

“Cut,” yelled the cameraman.

“Toss us a couple of towels, would ya?” Rory said to one of the guys standing by the bedroom set. “Did it look as good as it felt?” He winked at the cameraman as he climbed off the bed. ‘Christ, I must be a good actor to grind one out with that skank.’ He was already calculating the potential bonus he would make from the video and DVD sales.

“You must have saved up your spooge. The extra time to set up a second camera for close-ups was well worth the effort,” the cameraman replied.

“A sticky ton-of-cum for the cameras cuz I’m a team player,” Rory replied with a chuckle. He had even impressed himself with the volume. This usually only happened when he climaxed with another guy. ‘But that’s why I make the big bucks,’ he considered, ‘well…one of them.’ The image of Harvey’s face fleeted through his mind, ‘Thanks to my late sugar boss.’

“I don’t think we need any extra shots like I had originally scheduled. As far as I’m concerned, it’s a wrap.” The director turned to the cameraman and cut his finger across his neck.

“Cool. We gave ’em their money’s worth.” Rory winked as he caught the towels thrown his way. In turn, he walked over to Baby and placed a towel over her stomach as the set lighting was turned off. “Thanks, honey. We nailed it.” He felt a mixture of relief and gratitude after some rough waters the previous week when he was only able to hoist his ‘sail’ at half-mast.

“That was quite a workout. A deep workout…although I was the one who got nailed.” Baby smiled, took the towel and blotted her cheeks. “And I sure didn’t expect you to hit my face.”

“Saved it just for you, and the protein’s good for the skin.”

“It’s a facial I certainly can’t get at Neiman-Marcus,” Baby replied with an exaggerated wink. “Seriously, stud, that was a hot scene. Maybe we’ll get an AVN Award this year? I’d love one before I retire.” She stood up and put on the robe an assistant handed her.

“Retire? You’ve got plenty of mileage left and we make good videos together. Take care.” Rory walked over to the side and wiped off his wilting cock before tossing the towel on the floor. ‘For a fish, she’s not bad,’ he thought as he slipped on his street clothes, ‘but Baby’s about as tight as the Grand Canyon.’ In a way, he felt honored that the straight fans thought of him and Baby as the ‘Brad and Jolie’ of the porn industry. He stepped into his flip-flops and walked toward the studio exit with a grin. He found it amusing that hetero fans got off on a lesbian’s ‘cooz’ and his gay wiener in steamy videos. ‘Guess everybody’s into make-believe as long as the action is believable.’ He’d also been told that many straight guys were secretly turned on seeing another guy’s erection in action on videos.

“You leaving already?” asked Denny the Webmaster, who was standing by the door.

“Yeah, nailed it with no retakes. I’m kinda tired and ready to give Little Rory a rest. Gonna go home and take a long shower.” Rory didn’t like to use the less than pristine shower facilities at the studio if he could help it.

“Little Rory? Right,” Denny replied with a smirk. “Hmm, I don’t know if it’s important or not, but Andy just called and asked if you were still here. I told him you’d probably be here a while finishing up.”

“Andy?” Rory paused to consider this. He thought back to earlier in the morning when everyone in the studio was talking about the excitement of the previous day. Rumors were running amuck. ‘Is he somehow involved with the cops who searched my place?’ he wondered.

“He sounded rather urgent. Maybe he’s looking for you because of some sort of payroll problem? Rather funny…there was a voice in the background prompting Andy to ask how long you’d be here.”

“Perhaps I’ll stop by the office and see what he wants.” Rory’s attitude moved from curiosity to a mentally hoisted red flag. He had seldom come in contact with the guy when Harvey was still around. But now, Andy was ever present. ‘Wonder what the deal is? This is some serious shit that I’m dealing with.’

“Don’t bother. After everything yesterday and his house blowing up last night, Andy’s taking off a few days.”

“Christ, that explosion in West Hollywood I heard about on the radio was Andy’s place? Whoa…that’s scary.” Rory asked with a frown. ‘There is definitely something in the air and I don’t like it.’ The rumors concerning the previous day’s break-in at the office included stories about a shoot-out between private investigators and some crazy bad guys. Rory felt like a man walking around with a target on his back, but he couldn’t quite connect all the dots. ‘Harvey’s death is the key to all this shit,’ he thought with a casual expression on his face, ‘and I’m the fuckin’ keyhole.’

“He told me earlier that if it hadn’t been for being outside walking his dog, the explosion would have killed him. He’s staying with a friend…probably the hunky security guy who was hanging around here yesterday.” Denny shrugged and added, “I’m sure it’s not a big deal about him asking about you.”

“I’ll call him from the car.” Rory, wanting to project a nonchalant image and mask his concern…about his safety and freedom, asked, “Is the noon cam show still scheduled?”

“With bells on. I’m sure there are queens all over Europe panting for the chance to watch you.” Denny rolled his eyes and moved his right fisted hand up and down.

“Hey, whatever rings their chimes. I think I’ll go to a movie and have some dinner. Who knows what kind of mischief I can get into tonight? See ya.” Rory walked out to the parking lot and eased into his Solstice. He turned the ignition and felt the 260 horsepower rumble to life. ‘There’s definitely something not right about Andy trying to track me down,’ he thought as he maneuvered out of the parking lot, ‘and the security man entering the picture doesn’t equate either. Sounds like this dude is also interested in me.’ What he had just told Denny was intended to confuse the issue if someone was after him.

Once he was on Laurel Canyon Road he turned on the radio. ‘Might as well listen to the late afternoon news and check on the traffic.’ He downshifted as the KNX meteorologist finished the predictable Southern California weather forecast. But when the newsreader came back with the latest headlines, Rory was startled to hear Harvey Fine’s name associated with a house break-in and two men killed. “Harvey’s house?” he said to himself. “What the fuck,” he added as he turned up the radio and closed the windows so he could hear better.

“Police are still uncertain about the motives behind the violence this afternoon at 8584 Harold Lane in the West Hollywood hills above Sunset Boulevard. This is the same house that was the scene of a break-in and murder this past weekend. The deceased owner, Mr. Harvey Fine, was slain in his bedroom sometime late last Friday night by persons unknown at this time.”The newsreader was very solemn and precise.

Rory didn’t like what he was hearing. ‘Persons unknown,’ he thought, ‘means they didn’t buy my setup of Thad.’ The image of Thad in front of TJ’s, talking with a group of well-dressed men, flashed through his mind. ‘That means my ass may be on the line.’ He pounded on the steering wheel and yelled, “Shit, how is this happening?” Rory felt that his compartmentalized life was beginning to unravel.

“Police spokesmen say that the LAPD responded to an emergency call from the Fine house at approximately 1:00 this afternoon. After the police arrived at the Harold Lane residence, gunfire erupted from the house. Apparently negotiations failed and a gun battle ensued, the result being the loss of two lives. It took three SWAT teams to finally secure the scene. Although names have not been released, it appears that one suspect died, as well as an LAPD detective. We are waiting for a news conference to begin shortly and will bring that to you live on KNX 1070 News Radio.”

Panic started to overtake the porn star’s emotions as he wound his way down the last curvy stretch of Laurel Canyon. Rory felt that somehow all these events were related and killing Harvey had been a big mistake. ‘It seemed so easy at the time,’ he thought as he braked for the Hollywood Boulevard stoplight, ‘and time is something I don’t think I have anymore.’ He followed the traffic when the light turned green and took a couple of deep breaths. “Get control of yourself,” he said out loud as he turned at Sunset Boulevard. “I better disappear for a while and cover my tracks.” He wasn’t going to get sucked into this minefield if it could be avoided.

The characters who had suddenly popped up at the studio and now Harvey’s home, plus Andy Leeds’ house being blown up, were dynamics Rory couldn’t ignore. And the detectives’ search of his house was even more unsettling. ‘Is it possible someone saw me do Harvey in?’ he wondered. ‘Maybe that’s what these private investigators sniffin’ around is all about? I gotta get a grip.’ “Focus, asshole,” he said loudly to himself, “and do it now.” He took a deep breath and assumed a defensive survival-mode, mental-stance he had learned in the Corps. Methodically, he shaped a plan of action.

As he drove down Larrabee Street, Rory looked out for any sign of squad cars. ‘Gotta get some clothes, the laptop and my lock box,’ he thought as he drove into the underground garage. His small metal box, buried in the back of a cabinet in the kitchen, contained several thousand dollars, fake I.D.’s, a seldom-used bank debit card issued to a bogus name and other personal papers. He had opened the account when he was hustling during his Marine Corps years and kept it active out of habit. The statements were delivered to a P.O. Box in Beverly Hills, to make his real identity and location difficult to trace. ‘Thank God, the cops didn’t find it,’ he thought as he got out of his roadster.

The condo was empty – his roommate usually returned home later in the evening – and he was grateful that he wouldn’t have to explain his current actions. ‘Gotta move fast and hit the road.’ He took a quick ‘in and out’ shower to rid himself of the after-sex smell, stowed his toiletries in a dopp kit and hastily packed a Nike bag – a few changes of clothing, his laptop and his security box. Lastly, along with boxer shorts and socks, Rory put on a loose shirt, long pants and a good pair of walking shoes. Rory looked around one more time before he left his room as he grabbed his Padres baseball cap and sunglasses. ‘Better take a pass on the car and hoof it,’ he thought as he went into the kitchen, ‘cuz the Solstice sticks out like a sore thumb.’ He wrote a note to his roommate: Hey, dude. I decided to drive up the coast with a friend. Won’t be home for a few days. H.

Rory locked the condo door and looked at the street from the courtyard. He would disappear for a week and take that time to determine whether he was being pursued or not. ‘But there’s no way I can take a plane if they’re looking for me,’ he decided as he walked up to Sunset Boulevard, ‘because the cops will have LAX covered.’ “Go east, young man,” he said to himself, “but not too far.” He pulled his baseball cap down tighter, put on his sunglasses and headed for the Metro bus stop. ‘So far, so good,’ he thought as he stood on the corner, ‘I don’t see anyone I know…and no one seems to recognize me.’ This was one time when he was happy to just fade into the crowd.

He hopped on the eastbound 302 MTA bus and politely asked the driver where he should get off for a transfer to a bus bound for Pasadena. This was only partway to his ultimate destination but Rory decided to be close-lipped, just in case. He thanked the driver for the information and found a seat near the rear. It would be a long ride – but the quicker he got away from the gay bastion that is West Hollywood, the better. He certainly didn’t need any recognition or adulation right now. As the bus slowly moved through the Westside to central Los Angeles, the skin pigmentation of the passengers became a few shades darker and English was no longer the first language. A game plan came together as he watched the traffic and odd collections of buildings pass by.

Two Metro bus transfers, five bucks and three hours later, he arrived in Ontario, 45 miles east of L.A. This booming area was one of the last large urban sprawls before a traveler wound up reaching the desert fringes. It didn’t take long to find an open Sharpcuts barbershop. A bored Asian woman haircutter, somewhere between ‘soccer-mom’ status and middle age, bowed slightly and gestured for him to sit in her chair.

When he had attempted to start a conversation, the reply was a very brief and thickly accented three-word question, “How you like?”

“Short.” He made clipping signs with his fingers to emphasize the point. “Army.” ‘She’s probably either Vietnamese or Korean,’ he thought, ‘and hopefully doesn’t follow local news.’ In a worse case scenario, Rory didn’t want his trail to be easily tracked.

The woman nodded and quickly buzzed off the $75.00 styling job done only three days earlier as she re-created a civilian version of the cut Rory had worn in the Corps. ‘If nothing else, this can be part of a new look for the cam room,’ he decided when he judged the coiffed results in the mirror, ‘if this is a false alarm.’

He paid the bill and graciously thanked the barber with a soft Southern drawl as he stepped over the abundance of dark-brown hair clippings littering the floor. Rory made a special effort to mention that he was hitching a ride to Las Vegas. ‘This misinformation should confuse the bloodhounds if push comes to shove.’ He had no intention of traveling there and certainly not hitchhiking anywhere.

A short bus trip brought him to the large and busy Ontario International Airport. He avoided the departures areas and walked quickly to the lower baggage area. He scanned the auto rental desks from behind a large column. The Hertz woman was doing paperwork and had a quick, energetic style: her eyes were constantly darting around while waiting for the final flights of the evening to arrive. The two men behind the Avis counter seemed to be preparing several rentals and were highly animated. ‘Ah, that’s the one,’ he thought when he picked his target. The clerk at Alamo appeared not to be very enthusiastic about his job from the way he was staring off in a ‘zoned out’ manner and continuously yawned.

Rory noticed on the arrivals display that three flights had recently come in. He was relieved because he didn’t want to hang around too long. ‘Best to blend in with the crowd and play it by ear,’ he thought as the first passengers came down the escalator and walked toward the baggage area. Several executive road-warrior types wearily passed him, along with some families with small children. “Here we go,” he said under his breath when he saw a large group of Marine-types in the crowd. From their tanned faces, he assumed they were returning from Iraq. Probably a hundred passengers quietly milled around until the baggage started spitting out of the openings in the wall on the conveyor belt.

He was ecstatic when a couple of the jarheads in civvies walked up to the Alamo counter and encroached upon the clerk’s attention. Rory lined up behind the two guys about his age and quietly waited his turn. Another ‘girene’ fell in line behind him to blend a bit more confusion into his cocktail of deception. The clerk mechanically processed each customer and Rory slowly inched forward. Finally, he was at the counter. ‘This dude musta been smoking some weed,’ Rory thought as the ‘space cadet’ went through the corporate welcome by rote.

With his fake I.D.’s in hand, fresh haircut and tortoise-shell glasses, he apologetically said that he had forgotten to make a reservation before he left his base. The clerk mumbled a reminder about not planning ahead, but found an available car. Without raising any suspicion – and by showing his fake military I.D. he actually negotiated a discounted weekly rate – Rory rented a small, efficient and anonymous-looking Chevrolet Cobalt. As an unplanned assist to Rory, the clerk never offered much conversation or eye contact.

By 10:30 p.m., Rory was on his way to Palm Springs. With the thousands of Marines stationed at the nearby gigantic Twentynine Palms base, not to mention a mellow gay community, it would be easy to blend in. He planned on staying at a local motel and monitor the activities in Los Angeles. The desert community was only 100 miles east of the city and the residents benefited by receiving all the L.A. television channels in addition to local stations.

Around midnight, he pulled into the Motel 6 parking lot in neighboring Cathedral City and arranged for a deluxe room – one with a small refrigerator and microwave – for one week. The pleasant Hispanic front desk clerk was only interested in processing the paperwork and didn’t pay much attention to the arriving guest. She immediately went back to her telenovela after issuing Rory a room card. He was registered as Henry Cummings from Oceanside, California – the same tongue-in-cheek name that appeared on his fake I.D.’s. ‘I pray that they don’t put two and two together with the card I used for the rental car,’ he thought as he signed the registration, ‘but no one knows about these cards.’

He went back to his car and was pleased that he could park at the rear of the building. In the morning he would scan the L.A. Times and monitor the television news programs before plotting his next step. But first, he needed to make a stop at a drugstore for an easy hair-coloring agent to lighten his hair. Next on his list of priorities was to find an open McDonalds. ‘I’m having a Big Mac attack.’

~~~~~

It was just about midnight, and although Joe Lamanna’s courtesy update on the telephone an hour earlier was appreciated, Oleg had enough excitement for one day. “That dude’s a tricky shit,” he said to himself, as he thought about the elusive Rory. The ‘note to file’ memo he had just written – seven pages in length – recapped the past 24 hours. He proofed the document and attached it to an email to the key AOI offices. He made sure Dex Tate in London was personally copied. After shutting down his laptop, Oleg sat back in his chair and considered his ‘ball buster’ of a day.

He felt a little sorry for his detective friend. ‘Joe’s so close to wrapping up Fine’s murder and the suspect disappears.’ Popular West Hollywood bars, movie theaters and popular gay rendezvous had been searched, but with no leads. An all points bulletin was issued with emphasis on the I-5 or 101 leading to San Francisco. The fact that the Solstice had been left in the condo garage made Oleg think that the last known statement made by Rory at the studio was nothing more than a smokescreen. ‘But my job to clear Thad Brooks’ name is finished.’

On the ‘Russian front’, news was better. From the hidden computer confiscated at the Fine house, LAPD computer techs had found damning, incriminating data – ‘a shit load of stuff,’ was the way it had been described – that directly linked the child pornography ring to Sergei Gorshkov. The head Russian, along with his key lieutenants, had been arrested and were spending the evening at the Los Angeles City Jail.With a broad search warrant, police had found several computers at the Gorshkov residence and they were turned over to the FBI for analysis. Oleg was sure that the Feebie’s would assume jurisdiction before daybreak and bring federal charges against the Gorshkov mob. And this meant all known bank accounts and investments would be frozen, among other actions.

With Lamanna’s help, by driving his Crown Vic into the garage, Oleg had been able to leave the Fine house unnoticed by the media or any unfriendly forces a little after 7:00, earlier in the evening. Rather than trying to retrieve the lonely Saturn and risk being observed, Oleg asked Lamanna to take him back to the AOI office building. ‘One of the duty guys can pick it up at their leisure,’ he decided as he waved goodbye and climbed into his Denali. ‘Time to get home, fix a vodka martini and reconnect with the real world.’ Specifically, he wanted to call Giorgio Como and plan on a dinner date – with all the trimmings – for the next evening.

It was just after nine when he got home, changed into shorts and a tee and puttered around in ‘mixology mode’ at the wet bar. There was a feeling of satisfaction and contentment when he took the first sip of his ‘shaken, not stirred’ drink: six parts Absolut, a teeny splash of dry vermouth and enough olive juice to make it dirty. Oleg padded barefoot around his living room and turned on the artwork lighting to admire his minor collection of abstract paintings. ‘If it was a little cooler, I’d light the fireplace,’ he thought as he sat down on the couch and propped up his feet on the granite coffee table. ‘I don’t get a chance very often to relax in here,’ he considered as he pushed Giorgio’s preset number on his Blackberry display window.

Giorgio answered on the second ring with a very formal, “Hello?” in his deep voice.

“Hey, paesano, how they hangin’? Hope I’m not calling too late.” He enjoyed tossing in an occasional Italian word to communicate a small flavor of endearment.

“From this morning’s paper, I can tell you’ve been a busy man. That was quite a story.”

“Stay tuned…this is only Tuesday. Tonight’s lead on the news, and tomorrow’s headline, is even better if you like excitement.” Oleg was more than ready to give up dominating the news cycle for a while. “Things got a little hairy, but I was able to keep my low profile.”

“Understand. I’ll say no more. Are we still on for tomorrow night? I’ve been looking forward to our rendezvous.”

“The answers are ‘yes’, and ‘me, too’,” Oleg replied with a chuckle. “If you’re still offering dinner, I’ll bring a bottle of red. I’ve got a Cab that’s just screaming, ‘drink me, drink me’.”

“Damn, then I’d better pick up a couple of steaks on my way home tomorrow. Black Angus beef and some veggies. Maybe something simple to begin with like crab cakes? I’ve got a chardonnay that’ll work for the first course.”

“Man, what are you…a lawyer or a chef? That sounds awesome. What do you think about dessert?”

“I think Oleg, du jour, will be just fine. We can add whipped cream with a cherry placed on top.”

“Where we place the whipped cream and cherry could prove very interesting.” Oleg snickered and added, “My God, we sound like a couple of horny teenagers. But it works for me.”

“Excellent. Come over around seven. I’ll leave your name at the garage so you can park in my extra space. See you then.”

“Bu, bye.” Oleg smiled at the cell phone as he clicked off. ‘I hope round two will be as interesting as this past weekend,’ he thought as he dialed Brad and Doug’s unlisted home number. Brad Williams welcomed the call. He was home alone – Doug was at a studio function previewing a soon-to-be released movie and hadn’t seen the early evening newscasts. That Thad Brooks was no longer on anyone’s radar screen was a relief and he appreciated Oleg’s assistance. Brad promised he would contact Thad immediately with the good news.

His final call was to Gordy Bostwick. The young AOI associate was especially relieved that his houseguest, Andy, was no longer a hunted man and officially didn’t require a protective security detail. The revelation that Thad was no longer tainted with Harvey Fine’s murder was a distant second place in importance. Andy had gone to bed after they had walked the dog a little earlier, but Gordy promised to tell him the good news at the first available moment.

~~~~~

The image of Andy peacefully sleeping with Ginger warmed Gordy’s heart when he walked into the bedroom – dark except for a nightlight. Fortunately, the king-sized dimensions gave each man enough space to maintain the propriety of a security guard-client relationship. He quietly stripped down to his boxers, lay down on the opposite side and covered himself with the sheet.

Andy shifted a little and half-whispered, “Hi. I dozed off for a while but it didn’t last long. I’ve just been lying here with my eyes shut, mulling over everything.” He moved over and the fox terrier jumped off the bed.

“The term, ‘everything’, is a nice way to understate the shit sandwich you were served.” Gordy faced Andy and propped up his body on his arm. “Actually, it’s good timing that you’re awake cuz I’ve got great news.” He reached over and patted Andy’s shoulder. “Those friggin’ Russians have been arrested and are in the hoosegow.” Gordy decided to create a lighter mood rather than being grave and unemotional.

“Oh, Jesus. You mean those characters aren’t after me any longer?” Andy replied with an excited, louder voice as he sat up. “Wow, that is fantastic.” He looked at Gordy with a big grin and added, “Tell me what happened.”

Gordy turned on the bedside lamp and maneuvered himself into a cross-legged, sitting position on the bed. He unconsciously took Andy’s hand and squeezed it before he began to replay the conversation he had with Oleg earlier. Except for a few questions to which Gordy couldn’t reveal the answers, Andy seemed extremely satisfied despite the sketchy details.

“I guess this means you no longer need to look after me.” Andy’s brow wrinkled with a questioning frown. The expression slowly changed into a mischievous smile. “I mean…the case is closed and you’re not…ah…”

“Involved on a professional level? Naw. Now we’re just two civilians, Sport.” Gordy returned the smile when Andy put a hand on his knee. His smile turned into a chuckle as Andy’s hand slowly ventured up his thigh. He did not flinch when Andy’s fingers reached the hem of his boxers. ‘I do believe that my former client wants to take advantage of me,’ he thought.

“Civilians in heat.” Andy started tracing the bottom of Gordy’s boxers with his index finger and continued, “And horny as hell. At least I am.”

“Like I haven’t felt a little something since we first met.” Gordy could feel his penis stirring and growing down the thigh that Andy wasn’t holding. Without looking down, he knew his ‘semi’ was very noticeable under his loose boxers. ‘And soon to be completely at attention.’ He was tempted to check out Andy’s briefs-clad crotch but decided not to be so obvious.

“Are you talking about this ‘little something’ beneath your boxers that seems to be on its way to becoming not so little?” Andy replied with a snicker. He moved his other hand underneath the bottom of the boxers and immediately met Gordy’s expanding erection. “Just so you know, I’m not a slut…but I’m not a saint, either. Negative and always safe. And I’ve become very fond of you.” He took his thumb and slowly brushed Gordy’s dick head in a circular motion.

“Sounds like my kind of man. Ditto with what you said about everything else.” He took Andy’s hand and pulled it away from his leaking dick. “And I plan on being healthy for a long time. There are condoms in the drawer and I’m pretty open to what we do.” That was about as clear as he could make it.

“Open?” Andy asked with a lingering look, “As in ‘open’ back here?” He spread his legs and thrust his butt in a slight motion.

“Andy, are you sure we should…you know…after what’s been going on? I can wait if you’d rather take a pass.” That was so ‘not’ what he wanted to happen, but he didn’t want to push the situation.

“The only thing that I want to do is get you inside me.” Andy grinned and added, “And perhaps do it the other way around…later on.” He slid out of bed and pulled down his briefs. A very prominent appendage flopped up and slapped against his stomach before standing at attention at an impressive upward angle.

“That’s a promise I can make – because I’ve got one of those things, too.” He studied Andy’s trim, natural body. The light patch of chest hair and thin treasure trail that led to a nicely proportioned cut cock and firm, full scrotum were very tempting. Gordy stood up and quickly shed his boxers.

“Mmmm, yum. You know how to use that thing?”

“Let’s put it this way: we’re not going to get much sleep tonight.” He compared his new friend’s equipment to his own and decided they were about equal in the ‘six-inch war’ as he got back on the bed and turned off the lamp. “Ready?” he asked as he opened the bedside drawer and retrieved a handful of condom packages. He tossed them on the corner of the bed and grabbed the handy bottle of Wet. ‘I want to inhale this guy, one breath and kiss at a time,’ he thought as he lay back down.

“Really ready.” Andy crawled onto the bed and ‘scooched’ up next to his former protector. He aggressively took an eager Gordy in his arms, wrapped a leg over his muscular, lithe body and slowly dry-humped a thigh as he leaned in for a kiss.

Gordy adjusted his body and inhaled as Andy’s face met his. Each man’s erection was straining. It was glorious and painful at the same time. He ached with anticipation. It was at moments like this that he regretted his folks having permitted the doctor to circumcise him. There was just only so much skin to stretch. He reached his arms around Andy’s body, pulled him closer and proceeded to lock lips. Two hungry males battled the timeworn duel.

Each took ample time to explore the other with hands, mouths, noses and tongues. Touching, possessing, smelling, tasting, stretching. The hunt was over – they were ready to assume the roles of the conqueror and the conquered. Gordy straddled Andy to sheath himself. The lance and the target had been well lubricated. And knew that their positions would be reversed – maybe a couple of times – before daybreak.

“Let the games begin,” Gordy purred as he positioned Andy’s legs over his shoulders. He looked down and saw a smiling, willing, handsome mate staring back at him. “Guide me in.”

Over the course of the next couple of hours, they became sated and spent. The last minute addition of a bath towel on the bed eliminated the problem of any pesky wet spots. Gordy knew, however, that it would be laundry day in the morning.

The two guys, now very familiar with the other, lay side by side. It would soon be time to get up and move on. Gordy, however, didn’t want this to be just ‘one of those things’. He turned to Andy and whispered, “Thank you. That was terrific in a lot of ways.”

“Beyond the obvious, I agree.” Andy faced Gordy and added, “I don’t think I’ve cum this much in a long time.”

“Oh, right. I’m sure that’s what you tell all the guys.” Gordy chuckled and placed his palm on Andy’s flat stomach. He could feel his heart beating at a steady rate. “Seriously, can we get to know each other a little better? Maybe over drinks and some dinner?”

“As long as we fuck each other’s brains out afterwards.” Andy’s grin overpowered the almost-dark room. “But first I need to find a temporary apartment and get my shit together.”

“You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need to.”

“That’s cool. If I could hang at your place for a few more days, it’ll give me time.” Andy placed his hand over Gordy’s hand and squeezed hard. “Much appreciated.”

“What are you going to do about your job at the studio?”

“I’ve thought about that. Until you told me that everything was cool – the bad guys and all out of the picture – I was going to walk away. No, make that run away…fast. But now, I must consider a couple of things. First, Frat Loft is the source of income for quite a few people…including me. And second, in this economy it’s the pits finding a job. So, I’m going to call the other key guys early in the morning and get everyone to agree that we continue with the operation. What do you think?”

“Probably a very wise move. And since you’re at the business end, you can spend some time to handle finding a new place and deal with insurance issues. All that stuff. And if you can find time for me…”

“Just try to avoid seeing me,” Andy said quickly. “I’ve found a friend in you…and I don’t give up friends very easily.”

“Couldn’t have said it any better.” Gordy leaned over and gently kissed Andy. “But in the meantime, let’s try and get a few hours rest. And since I’m off the clock, I should warn you that I am a very serious cuddler.”

“Then start cuddling.” Andy rolled over onto his side and offered his backside for spooning.

“Good night.” Gordy wrapped his arm around his guest and scooted closer. ‘This could become a habit,’ he thought as he felt Andy’s buns press against his crotch. On the other hand, Gordy knew that trying to develop a relationship while ‘earning his spurs’in AOI would be next to an impossible task. ‘Maybe we’d better just stick to being fuck buddies and friends.’