The Land Whore - 24. Chapter 24

October 6, 1973

Israel was entirely different from what I had expected. We'd moved almost immediately from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem, which was steeped in history and religious fanaticism. I thought there would be a bunch of Jewish people there, which there were, but I had envisioned Jews like the people I'd befriended in Los Angeles. Instead, I found a society that was thriving despite the fact that it was under siege. Disparate groups, as diverse as any in America or France, perhaps even more so, forced together, forced to unite in this pressure cooker for mutual survival.

The people weren't obnoxious, they weren't loud, they weren't gaudy like Jackie Diamond, they were wonderful. And they were very focused. To live on the edge, to live under the threat of imminent dismemberment, both the country and perhaps the individuals, was overwhelmingly stressful. Yet they took it all in stride. They found strength in each other.

Yet I was very pissed off at these lovely people today. Yom Kippur, a day of atonement, a national holiday, and nothing, absolutely nothing was happening. Greg had been hysterical yesterday, ranting at the staff that had been oblivious to the fact there was a holiday that would shut them down. I thought it was such a big screw up it was comical, and I irritated him by laughing. Other than that, being with him had been terrific. I was just like a wife to him, worrying about how he looked, making sure his domestic life was pleasant and joyful, making sure he was sexually satisfied. Boy was I doing my job there. I giggled as I thought about last night and how he'd threatened to go sleep in another room because I was wearing him out.

He rolled over in bed and landed on me. He was being playful and I kissed him responsively. He moved his hand down my chest, across my abdomen, and grabbed my hard dick. “Does this thing ever go down?”

“Not when you're around. Now let go.”

“Why should I let go?” he asked, stroking me gently. I moaned even though I was trying to focus on teasing him.

“No sex today. It's against the law. No sex, no eating, no bathing, none of that.”

“There's a reason I'm not Jewish,” he said, and moved his mouth down to take the place of his hand. If I had been serious about stopping him, which I wasn't, that would have changed my mind for sure.

We took a shower after we made love. I figured I'd already broken one rule, why not break another. The hotel had stocked our room with food that wouldn't need preparation, mostly fruit and cereal and the like, so we sat around and munched on food indiscriminately. After that we went out to stroll around the city.

We'd toured Jerusalem yesterday and seen the old sights, the historic Wailing Wall, churches and temples that had significance to some but not to me. I noticed the people and the way they lived. My heart went out to the Palestinians and the squalor in their settlements. Our guides finally bitched me out for giving money to the little kids in the streets, but I ignored them. This was a land full of problems and conflicts. Today we avoided that and just strolled around the neighborhood of the hotel, smiling and waving at people who greeted us in Hebrew.

We were on our way back to the hotel when an extraordinary thing happened: A siren blasted. At first it didn't really mean anything. I hear sirens all the time. But when people started scurrying around in an organized panic, it dawned on me that blowing a siren was a pretty severe breach of Yom Kippur protocol. Greg and I did everything short of running to get back to the hotel. The lobby was full of agitated chattering people. “Quiet!” someone screamed, and we heard voices on the radio. Radio stations did not broadcast on Yom Kippur. The words were in Hebrew so we stood there, confused and uninformed.

A hotel concierge stood on top of the piano in the lobby to get everyone's attention. He started speaking in English. “Ladies and Gentlemen, please remain calm. Today, on our most sacred of holidays, Egypt and Syria, along with their other Arab allies, have launched an attack on Israel. A full mobilization has been called. Any members of the Israeli Defense Forces should report in immediately. We recommend that all foreign nationals remain here in the hotel. We will keep you informed as events unfold.” The chattering resumed and the poor man was mobbed by those who didn't speak English.

I moved through the crowd to him. “I speak French and Spanish so I can help,” I told him. “I speak French. I speak Spanish.” I yelled in those languages. A small group of probably 15 people approached me and I repeated what he had said in both of those languages. It felt good to do something useful, to help out. Greg had wisely secured a couch in the lobby for us, and I was about to gloat about our good fortune, when guilt forced us to yield it to an elderly couple.

“Did he say that Jordan was invading?” Greg asked.

“No, he only mentioned Egypt and Syria. Why?”

“If the Jordanian Army attacks, they will almost certainly focus on Jerusalem.” Holy shit. We could find ourselves in the middle of a shooting war.

“Should we head to the embassy?”

He laughed. “Which one? You are a citizen of France, and I am Canadian.” I laughed with him, even though technically I was an American citizen as well.

“How about Switzerland? Will they take us?”

He smirked. “I have enough money in their banks, they should let me in.”

We waited around the lobby for three hours. The news from the fronts was not good. Syrian forces in the Golan Heights were pushing back the Israeli forces, while Egyptian forces had made some spectacular gains. They had totally blown past the Bar Lev line and were firmly in place on the Eastern bank of the Suez Canal. Rumor had it that Israeli troops were in full retreat in the Sinai. The only good news is that Jordan had not attacked, nor did it appear that they would. That made us considerably safer. I was tired of being in public, and getting a little stressed out. We headed back to our room and to our bed where we just held each other.

“Sorry about this Stef. Here I invite you to come with me and I lead you right into a war.”

I kissed him. “I've had a great time so far. This has been a terrific trip. I'd rather be in a war zone with you than home alone.”

“Yeah right. Well how about if we head to Northern Ireland next.” I giggled, and then felt guilty. Their problems weren't funny either.

“I meant what I said.” We lay there for a long time, intertwined, with his hand stroking gently through my hair.

After a few hours we went back down to the lobby to get an update. It wasn't good. Syrian and Egyptian forces were still advancing. It was a real possibility that they would succeed in eradicating the Jewish state. In that situation, it would be best to be out of here, or if we were to be captured, it would be much better to be captured by the Egyptians. Greg was the senior man on the spot, and there were 12 employees here working on the film, so he invited them all up to our room to discuss the situation. We had a suite, so our bedroom was separate from our sitting room. Good thing, I thought to myself as I walked into the bedroom. It reeked of sex.

I watched Greg interact with his employees and learned something new about him. He obviously didn't like being in situations where he didn't have all the information or he wasn't in control. In this situation he had to deal with both. He was starting to get really agitated, and it was quite possible that if he didn't calm down people would perceive that he was afraid.

I slid out of the meeting and headed to the bedroom. I needed to get him out of there and calm him down. I called the front desk and asked them to ring me back, just to check the line. The phone rang and I picked it up quickly. I had hoped that Greg might pick it up in the other room, but he didn't. I walked into the sitting room, this time being as obvious as I could. “Greg, you've got a call in the other room,” I said.

“Who is it?” he asked in a very frustrated voice.

“I did not ask,” I said. He grumbled and got up and headed into the bedroom and I shut the door behind us. He picked up the phone.

“There's no one on the line,” he said, really pissed.

“I know. I wanted to talk to you.”

“Now?! I'm in a meeting.”

“I know you're in a meeting, but you need to calm down in there.”

“You're telling me how to run my meetings now?” He was really starting to lose it.

I moved up and put my arms around him. He tried to push away but I wouldn't let him. “Baby, you sound really frustrated in there. You need to calm down or people are going to think you're afraid. I know how brave you are, you need to show them.”

“Bah. They know me. I don't need to put on an act.”

“Yes you do. This is a little scary. If you’re not calm and composed, you will freak them out.”

“If you're so smart why aren't you the producer, why aren't you in charge?”

“I do not want that much responsibility. I just want to be here with the guy who is, and to support him 110%. I'm sorry if I made you mad. I thought you just might need a break to evaluate the situation.”

He looked at me and I watched the considerable anger fade from his eyes. “You are good for me,” he said. “Sorry I yelled at you.” A thank you kiss that could easily have gone much further followed, and then he headed back into the room, much calmer, and much more in charge. I was so proud of him, he just infused confidence into them, and that was a huge achievement since we continued to hear the dull vibrations of the distant gunfire and the screaming engines of the jets as they flew over the city.

“Here's the plan. This film has been over budget and behind schedule for the past six months. I was recruited to set it right, and with this new conflict I don't see how that can happen. I'm going to recommend that this project be shelved for the time being, and that we reevaluate it after this conflict ends. In the meantime, as soon as the airport opens tomorrow, I'm going to try and get all of us home.”

The director started to argue with him but Greg held up his hand. “The decision is mine and I have made it.”

“Well I'm not leaving,” the director said imperiously, throwing down the gauntlet.

“You are certainly welcome to stay here, but this is the last night that your expenses will be covered. Stay by all means, but you're doing it on your own dime. That goes for all of you. I'm going to pass around a paper, and I want you to print your names and nationalities on it so I can try to get us a flight out.”

The director and two others left, but the other nine all filled out his sheet. After they left, the real work began: trying to get a flight out. Everything was booked solid. We took turns calling airlines until we were finally able to schedule a flight out, but not until October 10, and that flight would leave from Tel Aviv. We scheduled a private bus to take us to Tel Aviv in the morning, and alerted the employees of the plan. It was a busy day, and very stressful with the specter of war making itself known everywhere.

October 7, 1973

Israel was back in business again, with the television broadcasting live news from both of the fronts. I sat watching the news waiting for our bus to arrive. The Sinai had been a series of failures for Israel. The Soviet surface to air missiles Egypt had deployed had taken a murderous toll on the Israeli Air Force, downing almost 50 planes. The army hadn't fared much better. These early battles cost them 500 tanks. Even more worrisome were the Syrian assaults on the Golan Heights, since they were much closer to the population centers of Israel than the Sinai Desert. Israeli forces were being pushed back there as well, and according to all accounts were barely hanging on to the rocky ridge securing their northern flank, while the center was pushing from Rafid toward the Sea of Galilee.

The bus pulled up right on time and loaded us up. We headed to Tel Aviv and it seemed to take forever because of all the military traffic. It had precedence, so we pulled over time and time again for columns of tanks or other armored vehicles. Then there were the ambulances that reminded me of the costs of this conflict. It was a weary group that checked into the hotel in Tel Aviv at 4pm. Greg had given everyone instructions about leaving in three days, but they were on their own until then. I hadn't been particularly impressed with any of them, and hadn't made any connections with them, so I was glad to get to our room.

I collapsed on the bed and Greg fell on top of me. “I'm so glad you're here, Stef. If you weren't I'd have to hang out with those people. No wonder this movie was a bust.”

“I cannot say that I was anxious to spend any more time with them. Except maybe that one cute cameraman.” He smacked me playfully. Then he kissed me and we made love, glad to be alone with each other.

We woke up and flipped on the television and the news was still bad. I wondered if we'd still be guests of the Israeli government tomorrow. I was sitting on the couch watching the announcers try to get a grip on the reports we were getting, and Greg came up behind me and started rubbing my shoulders. It felt so good the stress just evaporated. I sighed and relaxed.

“We haven't really known each other all that long,” he said as he sat next to me on the couch and I reclined back into his chest.

“It will be four months when we leave Tel Aviv.” He looked surprised that I knew that. I wasn't. “Why?” I moved so that I was lying on his chest with my head turned to the side, so I could look at his face.

“Because when I first met you I told you that I was a slut and that I wasn't a one man kind of guy. And you told me the same thing.” I just waited for him to continue. “And here we are in an unofficially official monogamous relationship.” I giggled at that reference to our weird relationship.

“What are you trying to say Greg?”

“I'm just saying that I'm really happy being with you. And I'm wondering if you feel the same way?”

“Do you really have to ask me? I love being with you. You are such a neat guy, so fun, so interesting, and the most amazing lover I have ever had.”

Aww. He was so cute. He was blushing and grinning. “I, uh....” he wanted to say something but he was hesitating. I just waited for him. “I'm wondering if we should take this to the next level?”

He was tense; I needed to ease things for him a bit. “Are you asking me to marry you?” I teased.

He giggled. “If I did, would you?”

“Uh uh, no fair. If you want to know you have to ask.”

“Well, I was thinking more along the lines of formalizing our unofficial official relationship, and I was kind of hoping you'd be willing to move in with me.”

“So I get to be your boyfriend, even in public, but I have to move in with you?” He knew I was joking.

“Yeah.”

“OK.”

He got a big grin. “Really? You will?”

“You are such a dumb shit sometimes,” I said to him lovingly. “It hurts to be away from you, so why would I not want to live with you.” He kissed me and we merged again, me inside him, and it was wonderful. I was completely in love with him; I knew that, I was just afraid to tell him that.

October 10, 1973

Our plane slowly lumbered into the air, typical for anyone used to 747s, but surely concerning to those who weren't. Everyone's eyes were glued to the windows looking for Soviet surface to air missiles, even though it was well-known that there were none even close to the airport. Besides, things had changed considerably since the first days of the war. The Israeli military was at full strength and we had heard the rumbles from the front as they surged ahead to drive the Syrians out. That was projected to be achieved today, while in the Sinai the Egyptians had been stopped cold. Still the war had taken its toll on my psyche, and I was looking forward to getting home. To my new home with Greg.

I still couldn't believe he'd asked me to move in with him. The last few days had really been great. I was with him in a confined space, a hotel room, and it was wonderful. I was so excited that those days of wondering if he'd call me, of wondering if it was OK to stop by and see him, and all that anxiety about whether he even liked me, those days were all gone.

He loved me. I knew he loved me. And I loved him back. But he wouldn't admit it, wouldn't talk about it, and guardedly avoided the word. At first it bothered me, but then I decided that it really didn't matter. I respected his wishes, his need to be careful, and knowing that he loved me was enough.

The plane reached cruising altitude and there was a collective sigh from the passengers. I reclined my seat and relaxed, looking at Greg with the most loving look I could muster, and squeezing his hand tightly. He returned all of my gestures. “You make me happy,” I told him. His boyish grin emerged, the cutest grin ever, and just melted me. I was going to lose every fight I had with this guy.

In the back of my mind I cautioned myself about falling too hard and too fast. My recent track record had not been good. First Peter, then Roger, but both of those guys had serious emotional flaws, especially Roger. Greg seemed balanced and together. Granted, he was not perfect. He had his flaws. He could be hot tempered, he could be loud and mean, and he could be stubborn. But those were things I could deal with. Psychotic was a bit tougher.

It was a very long trip home. We had to change planes in London. If we would have had the layover in Paris I would have insisted that we stay for a few days, but I was too anxious to get home to stay in cold, wet, London. I picked up a newspaper and found out that the US had just lost its Vice President. Spiro Agnew resigned after being convicted of crimes when he was Governor of Maryland. With Watergate in a full boil scandal, I wondered how long it would be before Nixon followed him. Another blight on our country, on our reputation. A direct flight from Heathrow to LAX, complete with a trip to the bathroom to renew our membership in the mile high club, took a mere 12 hours. Another hour and a half for customs, immigration, baggage, and the drive home. And then I was there. I was finally home, at my new home.

We made love in the shower and headed to bed, but I could not sleep. I put on my robe and wandered around my new place. Greg's house was bigger than mine, but it was not too dissimilar. I sat on the deck and watched the Pacific rage against the shore in its never ending battle to erode the coastline. The awesome power of the waves had an ironically soothing effect.

It felt like home here. I felt comfortable, wanted, welcome, and loved. I basked in the sea air, and the peace that comes from bonding with your environment. I heard steps and turned to see Greg.

“What are you doing up?” he asked groggily.

“I could ask you the same thing,” I said pleasantly.

“I woke up and you were gone. I missed you.” That got him a big smile.

“I was just wandering around my new home.”

“Oh yeah? So you like it, or you want to move?”

I rolled my eyes. “I like it. A lot. But I would go anywhere that you go.”

He pulled me to my feet and hugged me. I giggled when I felt his erection poking me. He ran his hands over my shoulders as he gazed into my eyes. “I need to tell you something, but I don't want you to spaz out on me.”

“I will try not to,” I said. Maybe he was finally going to admit that he loved me?

“You remember how I told you about my college roommate? He's coming to visit this weekend.”

Hide the pain, bury the disappointment, I told myself. And don't fucking cry. “It will be nice to meet him,” I said.

“Stef, I need to talk to you about him, about Al. I loved him so much when we were in college, and for all these years I've told myself that I still did. It's like he's been my obsession.” I nodded and gulped. “That's changed lately. You've changed that. I need to see him, to be with him, to make sure that we're over.”

I looked at him and I felt my eyes watering and I cursed myself for my weakness. “You're going to hurt me really bad are you not?” And then the tears started to flow. I didn't sob. I just had streams of water flowing down my face.

So did he, because he cared about me. “I don't want to. I'm so sorry. I want us to be a couple, to be together, but until I close this door in my past, I won't be able to do that.”

“I thought he was out of your life, that he was in the closet?”

“He was. I've seen him off and on through the years. The last time was a year and a half ago. When we met it was pretty emotional, pretty intense. He has left his wife, and he expects me to be there waiting for him.”

“I do not want to lose you. I'm fighting a battle with a guy I do not know. How do I win?”

He hugged me tightly. “How typical of you. Most guys would be pissed off and rant and rave, but not you. You want to know what you can do to keep me with you. You are so amazing.”

“Then why are you going to dump me for Al if I'm so fucking amazing?”

“I'm not. At least that's not my plan.” He was pleading with me, pleading for the space to figure this out. I had to give it to him.

“Alright Greg, let's do this. This weekend, Friday to Sunday, you spend with him. I'm going to head back to the Bay Area and see my family. They're probably worried about me anyway. Our monogamy is off for the weekend. Fuck him. Have a blast. But on Sunday night, when I come back, I want an answer. I want to know if this is still my home.” He nodded.

“I will. I'm really sorry Stefan. It kills me to hurt you. It really does.”

“I believe you Greg. I know you care about me. I'm kind of tired now. I'm going to head up to bed.” He watched me climb the stairs; I could feel his eyes on my back. I got into bed and pretended to be asleep before he joined me. I couldn't bear to make love with him; it would just make things harder.

We had amazing chemistry, and we meshed physically, intellectually, and emotionally so well. I knew that he loved me, and I sure as hell loved him, but this guy, Al, there was no way I could beat him out for Greg's heart. I was new and unproven. He had a history with this guy that went back over ten years. The guy had left his wife for Greg. Greg loved him. It was a done deal. Suddenly this house felt like a jail, and I needed to escape. I needed to get back to Escorial and cry on JP's shoulder. Then JP would have Al killed. Macabre as it was, it made me giggle.

October 12, 1973

“Have a good weekend,” he said as I headed for the door.

“You know that is not even a remote possibility. I will see you on Sunday.” I stopped, walked back and gave him a big hug and a big kiss. He held me tight, forcing me to stay longer.

“You'll get to see your family. They've missed you I'm sure.”

I pulled away and looked at him, my blue eyes piercing into his lavender ones. “You just do not get it do you? I love you. I am head over heels in love with you. Totally and completely. The only place I want to be is right here with you.” He looked shocked, not because he didn't know that I loved him, but because I'd actually admitted it. To be quite honest, it shocked me too. But he had to know where I stood. He had to know how I felt. “I've got to go.” I pulled myself away and almost ran out of the house.

I was crabby when I got to the airport, crabby with the flight attendants, and crabby when I picked up my car. I headed up to the office so I could be crabby there. It was impossible to pull off. Everyone was so visibly happy to see me, and so nice to me, I had no choice but to be in a good mood.

“I don't know if you want to keep it, but I expanded your holdings in Almaden,” said Cecile.

“Why did you do that?” I asked inquiringly.

“Well, first we picked up that acreage near Roger's winery. Then the two farms next to it came on the market and we snapped them up for a good price. I figured if you wanted them, we'd hang on to them, but if not, it would make for a good development. We've got 100 acres in the hills down there, perfect for luxury homes.”

“You are good,” I said. She showed me a map of the land, and she was right. It looked to be perfect for either a vineyard, luxury houses, or both. “I'm going to drive down and see it.”

I hopped into the car and sped down to Almaden. It was a nice area, and it was pretty, but it had lost its attraction for me when Roger had. I drove past the new subdivisions that were on land that once belonged to Roger's family, and past the entrance to his vineyard. There was a smooth dirt road that led up to the old farm house that stood near the top of the acreage I bought. I got out of the car and gazed out at the land, part of it filled with grape vines, part of it unaltered.

I wandered down among the vines, looking at them with some appreciation since Roger had taught me a lot about the business. I was close to the end of my land and at the beginning of his. It was a line in the dirt, and I crossed it, heading into the vineyards that I once owned and were now his. I strolled through his vines. They looked well-tended. I wasn't quite sure how Roger was doing that while he was in LA.

“I didn't expect to see you here,” a voice said behind me. I turned and there was Roger, shirtless and sweaty.

“I did not know you were here. I thought you were in LA.”

“So you figured since I was gone it was safe to come trample my vines?”

“I was not trampling them,” I said, getting irritated until I saw his smile. He was teasing me. “Yet.” He snaughed.

“LA got old. This is where I belong. Where's your new boyfriend?”

“He's in LA.” I found my attraction to him reemerging, which really wasn't a surprise. He looked great. Working outdoors, even in the fall, had tanned him and brought his ruggedness, his masculinity back to the forefront.

“You wanna come in and taste my latest batch of wine?” he asked.

“OK.” I followed him into his house, watching his cute ass wiggle in front of me. He was really turning me on. I tried to get a grip. He handed me a glass and poured some wine, babbling on and on while I drank some. “This is really good.”

That made him grin with pride. “Thanks. You uh...”

“What?” I asked.

Then without warning he leaned in and kissed me. I wrapped my arms around his body, sliding my hands along his sweaty back. Then he was on top of me, grinding into me with that raw animal power that I loved. He pulled my clothes off, and his pants, his big cock straining in front of him. We said nothing, just talked with our bodies.

His calloused hands brushed over my body and grabbed my throbbing cock. He grabbed the lube and put it on my cock and then moved forward and absorbed me into his ass. Only he wasn't the submissive 'fuck me' Roger that I'd known in LA, he was definitely in charge. Completely in charge. He pinned me down while he fucked me with his ass. He growled into my ear, bit my neck, and just lost control. In no time at all he made me cum, screaming at the top of my lungs, while his muted groans and growls, along with the ropes of cum on my stomach, told me he'd climaxed too.

“I missed you,” he said.

“That was nice.” I responded.

“You love him?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“He's a lucky guy. I'm happy for you.”

“What about you?”

“I was the Hollywood fuck boy, and I ended up feeling pretty shitty. I finally decided that I couldn't go on like that, so I just packed up and came home. It's been nice since I've been back.”

“You been down to Stockton Avenue?” I asked.

“A couple of times, but not to the sling. I think I'm over that, or at least I'm working on it. I should have been here paying attention. Half the fucking mountain range came on the market and got bought out before I even knew it.”

“What would you have done with it?”

“I would have taken those plans I worked up with Luke to see if they'd work here. I think they would, especially on the Barrow place next door. Shit, he's already got a good 20 acres of vines planted, and those are some great grapes.”

“You know who bought the land?”

“Nah. I haven't been able to find out. Hell they might not even want to sell.”

“You never know, I might be willing to.”

“You bought those farms. I should have known.” He seemed pissed, like I was going to try and block his plans.

“Well, you told me once you wanted to be my partner, to build a winery, and I figured that if that was going to happen I'd better have something to bring to the table.”

“I thought you hated me.”

“Yeah, that's why I just had mind blowing sex with you. I do not hate you Roger. We fucked up our relationship. After this weekend, I may or may not have a life with Greg. If I do, I'm going for it. But regardless, I'd still like to be your friend. And I'm willing to go into business with you, if you want.”

“So you don't know what's going to happen after this weekend? That mean you’re free this weekend?”

I grinned. “It does.”

“Stay here with me. We'll fuck like rabbits. It will be a blast.”

“I cannot stay...all weekend. I have to go home. But maybe tonight, if that works for you.”

He grinned and pushed me back onto my back again, only this time he lubed up his own big dick and pumped me to my second great orgasm.