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

If It Fits - 2. Chapter 2

March 10, 1995

I slept in while JP went to teach his classes, just hanging out and doing nothing. It was remarkably relaxing. I guess I hadn't realized how much tension there was in my body, how uptight I was. Now, having been thoroughly fucked last night and this morning, and being able to lounge around and do absolutely nothing, I felt myself starting to unwind. It was marvelous.

Until my cell phone rang. I looked down at the caller ID and recognized Greg's number. “Hello,” I said curtly.

“Where are you?” he demanded rudely. I hung up.

He called back and I answered again, the same way. “Don't fucking hang up on me!” he yelled. I hung up on him again. I felt myself strengthen, felt my old resolve not to be someone else's pawn arise. If we were to stay together, the rules were going to be different. I pulled some papers out of my briefcase and started to go through them, most of them new deals that Brad and our venture capital partner, Luke Carruthers, were recommending. It was flattering that even as experienced and successful as both of them were, they still valued my opinion.

I looked at the clock and it was almost 1pm. Good. JP would come home, we could fly away somewhere, and I could put all of this conflict out of my mind. I remembered his promise to have lunch with Benjamin and was slightly irked. But for that, we could have left earlier. I sighed. Just because my relationship was on the rocks was no reason for his to be.

The phone rang again, with Greg's number. “Hello,” I said again, just as before.

“Aren't you going to hang up on me again?” he asked acidly.

“If you cannot be civil, I will not talk to you.” Then there was silence.

“Is it alright for me to ask you when you will be home?” he asked in an unfriendly manner.

“If I knew, I might tell you,” I said evasively.

“Stay gone long enough and you won't have a home to come back to,” he threatened.

“I will always have a home with people who love me. It is a shame that your house is no longer one of them,” I said icily.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he demanded, almost yelling, but then reducing the volume to avoid me hanging up on him. I smiled. He could be trained.

“It means that I am trying to decide what to do with my life since you do not love me anymore,” I told him candidly.

“That's nonsense. Of course I love you,” he argued.

“Your mouth is saying words that you do not mean. I do not want to argue with you, especially over the phone. Take some time and think about what our life together has been like for the past six months, the past year. If you still do not know why I feel the way I do, then I will spell it out for you.”

“So when will you be back?” he asked again, this time more nicely.

“After the weekend,” I told him. There was silence on his end. “I will see you then,” I said, leaving things vague, and ending the call, this time with his implicit consent.

I walked in to JP's study and sat at his desk, contemplating my conversation with Greg. I wondered if he would have a whole bevy of young guys over this weekend to try to make me jealous. He'd make sure that Brad and Robbie noticed, just so they'd tell me about them. I thought about it and found that I didn't give a shit if he was with every gay twink in Hollywood. JP came strolling into his study.

“Going through my files?” he asked.

“Like you would leave anything interesting out,” I said with a smile. “Where are we going?”

“The beach,” he said. “Santa Cruz.”

“What a great idea!” I said. I don't know why I had not thought about that. He had a beach house north of Santa Cruz on a nice plot of land, so much that the beach was difficult to get to from the road and that made it damn near private.

We hopped into JP's car, an Acura NSX with a targa top. “This is a new car,” I observed.

“It is. It's a lot of fun. You still have your Porsche?”

I smiled. I loved Porsches. That's what I'd driven since the 1980s, always a convertible, and always a Carrera 4. “But of course,” I said.

“And what is Greg driving these days?” JP asked. I cringed at the mention of his name.

“He just got a new Bentley Azure. I was hoping it would cheer him up, but it has not.”

“Well, we'll spend the weekend at the beach and you can relax and ground yourself,” JP said.

“Thanks for doing this. I hope I did not cause you any problems with your boyfriend.”

He eyed me cynically. “He's not my boyfriend, and you do not really care if you caused me problems or not.”

“Look JP, I think he is completely wrong for you, but it is your life. If he is whom you want to be with, then so be it. But do not expect me not to tease him for being so stuffy.”

“I think he'll avoid you as much as possible,” JP said. “I don't think you're his favorite person.”

“Does that mean that I should stay away from here?” I asked carefully.

“Don't be ridiculous Stefan. You are always welcome. He will have to learn to deal with you. But it would be nice if you were a little nicer,” he said, making it a request.

I pretended to pout. “I will do my best.”

We drove up to the gates. They weren't automatic so I had to get out with a key and open them, making it seem like a major inconvenience. Then we drove up to the house, the house that had been expanded and modified over the years since he'd bought it.

“I think this house gets bigger every time I'm here,” I teased.

“Isidore and Claire are constantly working on it,” he said smiling. Claire was his daughter, a born decorator and my only niece. I loved her dearly. We took our bags from the car and tossed them into his room. “What shall we do now?” he asked.

“Fuck,” I told him. So we did.

March 13, 1995

“You going to be OK?” JP asked as he drove up to the plane.

“I think so,” I told him and leaned in to give him a kiss. “Thank you so much for a wonderful weekend.”

“All we did was fuck and eat. It was like old times,” he joked.

“It was. And I loved it. You are right about me and sex. You made me feel handsome and desirable again.”

“You are handsome and desirable. I'm here if you need me Stef,” he said, and kissed me again. “But right now I have to get to campus. I've got a class in 45 minutes.”

The flight back to LAX was remarkably smooth. I sat back and enjoyed it, smiling at what a good time I'd had with JP. He was such a good friend. Who else would take off and run away to the beach to fuck all weekend? That made me giggle. In fact, I was in a great mood until I got back to Malibu.

I walked in and the first thing I noticed was the smell. The whole house reeked of cigar smoke. I felt my nose wrinkle in disgust automatically, and headed to the huge windows looking out over the beach and threw them open. Inspired, I went around the house, opened every single window, letting the crisp cool air blow through, and wipe away the nasty smell. Greg would be pissed off that the house was freezing cold. Good.

I moved all of my things into the guest room, and then headed next door to see Brad. He was thrilled to see me. It was nice to be wanted.

“Did you have a nice weekend?” he asked.

“But of course,” I said. “You’re not going to ask me where I went?”

He laughed. “No, I already heard how you chased poor Professor Whist away.”

“He has no sense of humor,” I said with a smile. “How were things around here?”

“Quiet. Greg wasn't home much, and when he was he just wandered around the house with a cigar, grumbling. I think he missed you.”

“Ha,” I said scornfully. “He probably just had gas.” Brad rolled his eyes at me. “Still, I should probably call him and tell him I'm back so he does not bring some slut home.” I headed back to our house and closed the door behind me. There was a time when we'd kept that door open all the time, but with Greg's moods, and his grousing, we'd made a habit of closing it to keep the kids from experiencing his moods.

I dialed his number and it rang four times then went to voice mail. How typical. Too busy to talk to me. I just hung up. It was only a few seconds later when my phone rang. Greg.

“Hello,” I said, a little more cheerfully than the last time.

“Hi Stef. You called?” he said in a friendly tone.

“I did. I just wanted to let you know that I'm back.” My tone was flat and unemotional.

“I didn't think you'd be back so soon,” he said.

“You do not want me here?” I asked defensively.

“No, no, that's not it at all. I just would have aired the house out to get rid of the cigar smell.” I stared at the phone, shocked.

“Well, I'm working on that now. It's a little cold though,” I told him cautiously.

“I don't care about that. Are you planning to be home all day today?”

“Why?” I asked suspiciously.

“I was thinking that I could come home and take you out for lunch.” I looked at my watch and noticed that it was only 11:30. He was going to take time out in the middle of the day to spend with me?

“Alright. I will be here.” I hung up and stared at the phone, wondering how I felt about this. Was he going to be all nice and try to repair our relationship? Did I even want that? I found that I was too insulted, and too angry to even know how I felt. I closed the windows up, spruced up, and headed downstairs to find him waiting for me. He smiled at me sheepishly, turning on his charm.

Some of the weight he'd gained had gone to his face, making it round and pudgy when he smiled, but he was still adorable, and I had to steel myself to avoid melting at his smile like I usually did. “I'm sorry Stef. I'm so sorry.” He fell to his knees and grabbed my hands, looking up at my face. “I have been such an ass. Such an ass. Will you forgive me?”

I swallowed hard, feeling myself thaw, seeing the man I love, or at least loved, beneath this pleading veneer. I pulled him up and gave him a kiss, a nice kiss, like we used to do when it meant something. “It is not as easy as that,” I said.

“What do you mean?” he asked, but not in an angry way.

“Things have to change. I have dealt with this shit now for a long time, and I cannot do it anymore,” I told him.

“What do you want me to do?” He seemed so desperate.

“Quit.”

“Quit what?” he asked.

“Quit. Quit your job. You are obsessed and it is killing you.” I saw the familiar expressions fly across his face, the anger at such a suggestion.

“You're asking a lot,” he said.

“You have ignored me, abused me, treated me like shit for the past two years at least, to focus on your work. It is my turn. You asked me to forgive you, to be your partner. That is the price.”

“I don't know if I can do that,” he said nervously. This wasn't going the way he expected it to go. He figured he'd beg me for forgiveness and I'd cave like I always did and life would go on again. “I don't want to lose you.”

“Is your career, is making more money more important than being happy?”

“But my career makes me happy,” he said. I just stared at him, challenging that lie with my eyes. He looked down, unable to admit the truth.

“I have been miserable with you while you've focused on your work, and I would be miserable without you. But without you, there is hope that I could rebuild my life. With you, if you are working, there is no hope. And I really do not want to live that way. I'm not going to live that way.”

“I love you Stef,” he said, switching gears.

“I love you too Greg. I really do. But not as much as I used to. That is why I need to figure this out now. If I'm going to let you back into my heart, I have to know that you will not hurt me again.”

“I'm not sure I can just drop everything all of a sudden like that,” he said, trying to bargain for time.

I moved up and wrapped my arms around him. They could still reach. “Greg, at the rate you are going, you will be dead in a month anyway. Then they'd have to pick things up. Do you think Robbie cannot handle it?”

“I guess so,” he said reluctantly.

“If I were Robbie, I'd feel pretty shitty.”

“Why would you say that? I've done so much for him. I love him like he is my own son!”

“But you do not trust him to take over, to take responsibility.”

He growled at me. “I give him plenty of things to do.”

“You give him tasks, not responsibility. You control everything. You make sure you approve and supervise even the smallest details. It is killing you, and undermining him.” I'd seen him do this, and seen Robbie's reaction, the hidden resentment.

“He never complains,” Greg said defensively.

I laughed. “We're talking about Robbie. You could beat him with a bat every day and he would not complain. He worships the ground you walk on. But you withhold the one thing that means the most to him, your trust.”

“When do I have to make this decision?” he asked.

“At dinner tonight,” I told him. I didn't want to give him time to try to work me out of my resolve. He made to argue, but then stopped.

“Alright. I'll make a decision by dinner.”

“What about lunch?” I asked with a leer.

“I'm not really hungry. Plus I'm fat.” That was the first time he'd admitted it.

“I was not talking about eating,” I told him, rubbing against him.

“I still can't, it's still not, I, uh...” he couldn't say it. My heart went out to him.

“That is because you are stressed and out of shape. It will change when you take care of yourself again. But fortunately, I do not have that problem. As I recall, you are an adequate bottom,” I teased.

“Adequate?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

I laughed at him and dragged him upstairs, making him strip off all of his clothes even though it was still cold in the room. I'd been with men in the past that had erectile problems, so I focused on caressing his body, not his dick. I gave him an excellent rim job, then loosened him up and made love to him slowly and lovingly. It was great to be with him, and it was good that I'd had sex with JP that morning because that gave me endurance, enough endurance to make him cum even though he never got rock hard like he used to.

“That was nice,” he said, pulling me to him. I smiled up at him. One of the nice things about this extra weight was that it made him much cushier.

“I thought so too. You see, we can still have fun.”

“I'm really sorry that I said that to you. Even when things don't work, you still can turn me on. There's no one I'd rather be with,” he said, kissing me.

“Well, you'd better get back to work and decide if you can have that much fun at your desk,” I teased.

“I guess so. I'll see you at dinner tonight,” he said. Then he kissed me, got up, and headed back to work.

I went next door to update Brad on everything that had happened and to see his kids. They called me “Grandpa,” and I pretended to barely tolerate it even though I thought it was cute. The oldest one, Darius, was 13 now. He was the son of my niece and an Iranian guy she hooked up with. He was in the midst of puberty, which gave him that crackling voice thing. It was too funny. He had an outgoing personality, a real sociable nature. Next was JJ, who was nine. He was also the son of my niece, through a surreptitious liaison with JP's brother, Jim. He had the Crampton looks, though not distinctive enough to raise eyebrows. He was really short for his age, and really slight, definitely a squirt. That was offset by his good looks. He was handsome in almost a feminine way, with sharp, fine features. Last was Will, Brad's son. He was eight years old, but he was much bigger than JJ. He was a lot like his father. He was always thinking, but you never knew exactly what he was thinking about. I hung around with them, at least to the degree that they wanted to spend time with me.

It was almost 7:00pm and I was getting nervous. Greg still wasn't home, but then again, neither was Robbie. I'd had hope this afternoon; hope that I might be able to save Greg from his unhealthy life, hope that I could save our relationship, hope. But with every minute that passed, that hope started to fade.

I knew now why I had made my stand with him. I couldn't stand this, letting him in, and then subjecting my emotions to this roller coaster. I went back over to see Brad and found Robbie at home too. “Did you see Greg?” I asked.

“He's been locked in his office all day,” Robbie said.

“Who was he with?” I asked.

“Who knows? I try to avoid him as much as I can and just work on my own projects,” Robbie said sadly. Then he got pensive and nervous. “What do you think he would say if I wanted to start my own production company Stef?”

I smiled at him. He'd grown beyond the responsibilities that Greg had been willing to give him. He was ready to call the shots, just as I'd explained to Greg earlier. “I will tell you what, let’s have breakfast tomorrow and talk about it,” I said. I figured that if Greg wouldn't give up his business, then I'd advise Robbie to make the leap. He'd need some help from me though, and that would put me in direct competition with Greg. That could get really ugly.

Robbie looked at me, a little surprised. “OK,” he said simply. He was such a good guy, so stable and loyal now.

“I may be going away for a while, taking a vacation,” I told Brad. “You and Luke can hold down the fort while I'm gone, or call me on my cell, right?”

“Sure Stef. You're totally dispensable,” chirped Brad cheerfully.

“Good, then I am a good manager,” I teased back.

“I wish Greg felt that way. I can't take a crap without getting it approved,” Robbie said grumpily. I said nothing, because I knew he was right.

“Well, I should let you have your family time. Or should I say 'alone time'?” I teased.

“Alone time?” Robbie asked.

“That is Professor Whist's term for sex,” I told him, and we all laughed.

“And just what is so funny?” Greg asked, standing in the door.

“Welcome home,” I said nervously.

“Sorry I'm late. I want to show you something. Come on!” he said.

“OK,” I said, and got up to follow him.

“Not just you, Brad and Robbie too.” They just shrugged their shoulders. Brad went to tell Jeanine he was leaving while the rest of us followed Greg out to a limousine.

“I am not enough company for you?” I asked, flirting like I used to.

“Nope, not tonight,” he said. He was in a good mood, and I didn't know whether I should be nervous or not. We hopped into the limo and it whisked us off toward LA. We all sat there curiously, wondering where the fuck he was taking us, when the limo pulled up to the harbor in Marina del Rey.

“We are going to your boat?” I asked. He ignored me as the car pulled up to a massive yacht, much bigger than his.

“Come on,” he said excitedly, as he led us on board.

“What are we doing on this boat?” I asked, getting irritated.

“I bought it today,” he said. “It’s one hundred forty feet long.” I raised my eyebrows. Then narrowed them. Now I knew his game. He was going to tell me that he'd bought this new boat and that he'd spend more time on it with me, and that would relax him enough that he'd still be able to work. I was getting more and more irritated as he led us below where there was a nice dining and living area, all done tastefully in light colored leather, with walls paneled in a light colored wood. It was beautiful. The table was set for dinner. “Join me for dinner.”

There was a square table for eight, but there were only four chairs, so it was nice and roomy. I stared at him, my irritation growing. I told myself to control my temper, but it was getting more and more difficult. I looked to Brad and he looked back at me, his eyes telling me to calm down. It was good non-verbal advice. Well, if this was to be my last meal with Greg as a couple, I might as well make the most of it. “You know that people are going to say you have a small penis, and that is why you bought a bigger boat,” I teased.

“Should I just whip it out and prove them wrong?” he teased back. We laughed at that, not that it was that funny, but because he was in such a good mood. He reached into the pocket of his suit coat and pulled out a bunch of papers. “A toast,” he said, raising his champagne glass.

“And what are we toasting?” I asked. “Your new boat?”

“No, we are toasting Robbie's promotion,” he said, grinning. Robbie stared at him, very confused. Greg handed us each a piece of paper. They were copies of the press release announcing that he was resigning as CEO of his company effective immediately, and that Robert Hayes would be replacing him. “If you'll accept it, that is,” Greg added.

We just stared at him, stunned. Brad was perhaps the most lucid of us, being the least directly involved in his decision. “Congratulations baby,” he said to Robbie, who still hadn't said a word.

Then Robbie looked at Greg. “Are you serious?” Greg nodded. Robbie swallowed. “I won't let you down.”

Greg grinned at him and walked over to give him a big hug, a genuine hug. “I know you won't. You're more than ready for this. I should have done this a long time ago.” He walked over to me and hugged me, and then our lips met.

We kissed for a long time, connecting again, until Brad started clearing his throat. “So now will you forgive me?” he asked.

“Yes, I think I will have to. You have done all that I asked and left me no choice,” I said, trying to sound like I was being forced into it. “So why did you buy this boat?”

“So we could spend some time motoring around on it, just you and me. I want to go to the Caribbean.”

“Through the Panama Canal?” I asked. He nodded.

“I figured that I could spend tomorrow with Robbie, showing him all the things I was working on, and then we could leave the next day.” I was about to protest that that was too soon, but I realized that Greg was leaving so he wouldn't be tempted to interfere with Robbie's management of the company.

“Show us around your yacht,” Brad said.

“It is not a yacht,” I said. “It is a ship.” He showed us the four cabins, room for eight people. It had a crew of six. “This baby is pretty fast too,” he said. She cruises at 18 knots but can kick it in and get up to 24 knots if we need to.” It really was beautiful.

“You are not giving me any time to redecorate it,” I said, pretending to be upset. “It is a good thing it is so tasteful.” He smiled at me appreciatively. It was late when we poured ourselves back into the limo.

“I really appreciate the opportunity you're giving me Greg,” Robbie said. I looked at him and smiled. He already sounded confident, and in charge.

“And I am just sorry I didn't give you the chance a lot earlier. It was really selfish of me.” Robbie beamed at him. Greg's approval was like manna for him.

“I guess we should finish up tomorrow as well?” Brad asked.

“We should. It appears I'm going to be gone for a while.” I usually didn't like to leave for long periods of time, but this time, it was worth it.

We got back home and headed straight to bed. I was exhausted, so I just stripped off my clothes and fell into bed. I felt Greg climb in behind me.

“I have another surprise for you Stef,” he said as he kissed my neck behind my ear. Then I felt his hard dick probing me, already lubed. I moaned and pushed back into him, so happy to have my partner back, so happy that he was going to leave his toxic lifestyle behind.

  

Copyright © 2011 Mark Arbour; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

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Chapter Comments

Stef being around children always seems a little strange to me. i don't know why; he just doesn't seem the type to be able to relate to them.

 

I have to wonder if Greg is really ready to leave or if he is just afraid of losing Stef? I have to wonder how long he will be able to stay gone???

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I'm not surprised Greg chose Stef, workaholic or not he's always had a very soft (sometimes hard) spot for Stef.

Love the work, thanks.

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Bah.... 142', that isn't even 45m. The circles Stef travels in a 100m yacht is the bare minimum. Their neighbors down PCH, Paul, Dave and Larry, all have 100m+ ships.

Good news for now, but this is CAP.

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3 hours ago, PrivateTim said:

Bah.... 142', that isn't even 45m. The circles Stef travels in a 100m yacht is the bare minimum. Their neighbors down PCH, Paul, Dave and Larry, all have 100m+ ships.

Good news for now, but this is CAP.

Their penises are smaller.  😃

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