Deep Sea Detectives

Note: This story is the seventieth installment in a series entitled “Sandra and Stevie”. If you have not read the previous sixty-nine episodes of this series, I encourage you do so before beginning this chapter.
This is a dominant wife humiliates submissive husband story. That is the kind of story I write. If you do not enjoy these types of stories, I strongly recommend that you look for something else to read.
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The end of September is still a beautiful time of year in the north central part of the United States. It doesn’t rain much. The skies are clear and blue. The sun shines almost every day. The cold blustery winds that herald the coming of winter haven’t arrived yet. The days are more like cool summer days. The normal high temperatures are generally in the 70’s. The nights are cooler. Women generally bring a light sweater or wrap of some kind when they go out for the evening.
When I got up on the morning of Saturday September 29th I was greeted by the beginning of a beautiful fall day. I walked out onto the patio. The sky was clear and blue. It was early in the morning. The previous night had left behind a slight chill that still hung in the air. The warm sun was just starting to peek over our back fence. I smiled, the rising sun would quickly chase the chill away.
I looked at my watch. It was almost 7:00 am. Sandra’s parents and the wedding party were due to arrive in three hours. We were going to have a quick wedding rehearsal. When that was done we were all going to sit down to brunch.
I went into the kitchen and started preparing the food for the brunch. I was just putting a large ham into the oven when I heard a sound behind me. I turned it was Ricky.
He had a big smile on his face. “Good morning Stevie, happy wedding day.”
“Thanks Ricky.” I poured him a cup of coffee. “What’s happening with our two sleeping beauties in the bedroom?”
Sandra and Julie strolled into the kitchen. Sandra grinned at me. “We’re up and ready for action.”
Sandra walked up to me, put her arms around my neck and gave me a kiss. “Good morning sweet groom.”
I laughed. “Good morning beautiful bride.”
Sandra giggled. “Tonight you get to become my submissive cuckold husband.”
I grinned at Sandra. “I can’t wait.”
Julie came over and hugged me. “Stevie I am so happy that you and Sandra are getting married today. I love both of you so much.”
I kissed Julie. “I know Jules; I love you to.”
She smiled at me. “Do you love me enough to get me a cup of coffee?”
We all started laughing. Ricky grabbed the coffee pot. “Come on let’s go out on the patio. It’s a beautiful morning.”
As they walked outside I ran into the bedroom and grabbed two robes for the girls. The morning sun still hadn’t won it’s battle with the chill of the night.
When I got outside Sandra and Julie were already sitting down. I draped a robe over each of their shoulders. Julie smiled at me. “Thanks Stevie. It’s just a little cool out here.”
I sat down and asked, “Did Barry ever call and let us know what happened with the house next door?”
Ricky set his coffee mug down and shook his head. “Sorry, he left a message on the answering machine. They accepted the offer. We’re now the proud owners of the house next door.”
Julie and Sandra clapped their hands.
“I guess we’ll have to call Barry on Monday and make arrangements to fill out the formal purchase agreement and set up a closing.”
Sandra looked at me. “Won’t Bobby and Jason help you with that?”
“They will, but since I am probably going to be the buyer I have to sign the papers.” I paused. “My schedule next week is going to be pretty easy. I’ll have the time to take care of the house business.” I smiled. “The following week is going to be a different situation.”
Sandra tilted her head. “What’s happening then?”
“Remember that company in Atlanta that I told you about?”
She nodded. “Sure the company that’s making the drug to enhance sexual desire in women.” She laughed. “The drug that you said Julie and I could never even touch.”
I smiled. “That’s the one. They should be hearing from the FDA in about a week. If they get approval to start manufacturing the drug, things are going to get pretty wild.”
Julie tapped my knee. “Stevie are we going to make a lot of money from this deal?”
I grabbed Julie’s hand. “Sweetheart if everything works out, we are going to make more money than you can possibly imagine.”
Sandra set her coffee cup down. “Exactly how much is that Stevie?”
“Right now we have about 5 million dollars invested in the company. If they get FDA approval their stock should triple in value. Adding in our other assets, our net worth will increase to about 35 million dollars.” I laughed. “Once we have that much money there’s no stopping us. Between my ability to find places to invest money and Bobby’s ability to manage money, we could be billionaires within the next ten years.”
Sandra, Julie and Ricky just stared at me.
I decided that it was time to drop the next bomb. I looked at the three of them. “Jules, you and Ricky never got a honeymoon. Sandra and I aren’t going to get one either. All three of you get time off at Christmas, so does April. I kind of thought it might be fun if all of us spent this coming Christmas in a warm climate. Hawaii or Jamaica would be nice. We could take a cruise if you like. Maybe you want to go to one of those sex resorts in Mexico.” I smiled at Julie and Sandra. “You get the picture. A nice place where there will be lots of hot guys for you to play with.”
Sandra looked at me. “You’re planning on taking everybody right?”
I nodded. “Yes, the four of us, Brenda, Bobby, Maddie, Jamal, April and Mark. I would also love it if Jason could go, but that sort of depends on Evelyn.” I paused. ” I think that Bobby, Mark, Ricky and I would like it if we went somewhere where there was a golf course. It would give us something to do while you girls and Jamal are busy partying.”
Julie grinned at Sandra and turned to me. “Stevie you have certainly just given us something to talk about at the reception tonight.”
Sandra leaned over and looked at my watch, it was just after 8:00. “Oh dear, we have to start getting ready. We have lots of company coming in less than two hours.” She jumped up. “Come on boys, it’s bath time.”
Julie stood up. “Sandra and I had so much fun in the tub yesterday that we decided we always want to take our baths together.”
Sandra started giggling. “Come on Sissy groom. It’s time to bathe your Mistress bride.”
Sandra grabbed my hand, pulled me out of my chair and led me into our bedroom. Julie grabbed Ricky and followed on our heels.
When we got into the bedroom both girls threw their robes on the bed.
Sandra got a wicked grin on her face and said, “Stevie get down on your knees.”
It was an order. I did as I was told.
Sandra pulled her shorts down. “Cuckboy look at my cute little pussy. You love this pussy don’t you?”
I nodded, “Yes.”
“Most men consider their wife’s pussy to be their private playground. In our culture exclusive access to his wife’s body is generally thought to be a husband’s marital right.”
Sandra smirked at me. “That won’t be true in your case will it Sissy Cuck. You understand that I am going to freely give your marital right to my cunt to any man I choose.”
Sandra laughed. “Sissy Cuck I guarantee you that even though we’re husband and wife, I intend to let lots and lots of men play with my cute little pussy.”
Sandra took her top off. “You like my cute little titties to don’t you Stevie.” She smiled at me. “Think of all the guys that are going to get to fondle these titties.” Sandra started laughing. “Sissyboy just imagine about how hot all those guys are going to get while they’re playing with your wife’s nipples.”
Julie decided that she wanted to join in the fun. She leered at Ricky. “Footboy you can join Stevie; get down on you knees!”
Ricky fell to his knees. Julie started a slow strip. As she removed her top and exposed her large breasts she said, “Footboy you love my breasts don’t you.”
Ricky nodded.
“But you never get to play with them do you?”
He shook his head.
“That’s because my breasts are reserved for real men. Wimps like you just get to suck on my toes.”
Julie pulled her panties down and showed Ricky her cunt. “Footboy when was the last time you got to fuck this pussy.”
Ricky hung his head in shame. He just barely whispered his answer. “On our wedding night.”
Julie leaned forward. “Speak up footboy, I didn’t hear you. When was the last time you got to fuck me?”
Ricky looked up. “On our wedding night.”
Julie shook her head. “Poor little boy, lots of other guys have fucked me since then, but not you.” Julie patted Ricky’s head. “That’s so very sad”; and then she started laughing, “But you do get to lick my asshole and jack off don’t you?”
Ricky smiled. “Yes Mistress Julie and I am very grateful that you allow me that privilege.”
Sandra looked at Julie. “You’re not fooling us, we live with you guys. This is just a game.”
Julie laughed. “It sure is and it’s a game we both love to play.” She reached down and grabbed Ricky. “Come here baby.” Julie pulled Ricky up to his feet. She put her arm around him, pulled his face to her breast and slipped one of her nipples into his mouth. “My baby loves to suck on my tits.”
Sandra reached out and grabbed my shoulder. “Come here sweetheart.” She pulled me to my feet and led me to the bed. As we sat down she said, “Jules let’s let our boys fuck us right now.”
I looked at Sandra. “Shouldn’t we wait until tonight?”
Sandra giggled. “Stevie I don’t know how to break this to you, but I’m not going to be a virgin bride.”
I stared into Sandra’s eyes. “My dear I am crushed by this news. When did this happen? Who was responsible?”
Julie started laughing. “Stevie I think it was six years ago and it was the entire male student body at the University.”
Sandra winked at Julie. “That’s not true Jules and you know it. There were at least five guys at the University that never got to fuck me.” She giggled. “But it was okay because you took care of them.”
Julie grinned at Sandra. “We did get around didn’t we.”
Sandra turned to me. “Stevie I want you to fuck me right now.” She took my hand. “You can fuck me again tonight but I want to feel you inside me right now. Please baby, it’s important to me.”
“Okay, but why?”
Sandra squeezed my hand. “Stevie I plan to let several guys fuck me today. I intend to cuckold you all evening. By the time we get to the hotel room my pussy is going to be pretty stretched out. I am sorry baby but your cock is so small that I won’t be able to feel you fucking me tonight. Right now I’m nice and tight. I’ll be able to enjoy you this morning.” She started giggling. “Also it is our wedding day. You really should be the first guy that gets to fuck me today.”
Sandra pulled my t shirt over my head. “Come on sweet boy, let’s get your clothes off.”
Julie sat down next to us and pulled Ricky down on top of her. “Let’s get your clothes off to baby doll. Sandra’s not the only one with a nice tight pussy this morning.”
I got on top of Sandra and Ricky got on top of Julie. As we were fucking our girls Sandra grinned at Julie. “This really brings back memories doesn’t it Jules.”
Julie laughed. “I was just thinking the same thing Sandra.”
Sandra looked up at me. “Julie and I lived in a studio apartment for two years. It was all we could afford. There was one double bed in the living room. We spent a lot of nights lying on our backs side by side just like this.”
Sandra and Julie had spent a lot of time training Ricky and me. We were both able to last a long time. I came first. When I was done ejaculating into Sandra I started to slide down her body to do my cleanup chores.
She stopped me. “Wait just a minute sweetheart.”
Seconds later Ricky started cumming. When he was done, Sandra said, “I want the two of you to clean up after each other this morning.” She grabbed Ricky’s hand. “Come here baby.” Sandra pulled Ricky to her and gently pushed his face to her crotch.”
I slid over to Julie. I was starting to go down on her when she stopped me. “Stevie lie down on your back.” I rolled over. Julie got up and mounted my face. As she pressed her cunt against my lips she said, “Lick my baby’s cum out of my cunt Stevie.”
Sandra looked at Julie and me. “Ricky we should be doing that, lie down baby.”
Ricky lay down. Sandra got on top of him and sat on his face.
For the next twenty minutes our girls rode us. Julie would lean forward so that her cunt was over my mouth then she would lean back so that I could lick her asshole. I knew that Sandra was doing the same thing with Ricky.
Both girls had several orgasms. After her last orgasm Julie rolled off of me and cuddled up to my shoulder.
As we lay together we watched Ricky lick Sandra to one more orgasm. When they were done Sandra rolled off of him, lay in his arms and started to giggle. “What a wonderful way to begin a wedding day.”
Sandra looked at the clock. “Oh no, look at the time; it’s almost 9:00. Our company will be arriving in one hour. Stevie you attend to the brunch while Ricky gives us our bath.”
We all jumped into action. As I pulled on a pair of shorts and went into the kitchen I laughed to myself. Sandra and Julie had gotten so used to having Ricky and me as their body slaves that it didn’t even occur to them anymore that they could actually bathe themselves.
I worked quickly once I got into the kitchen. In a matter of minutes I had everything cooking.
Just as I was finishing Ricky came into the kitchen. “You need any help?”
I turned to him. “Are they out of the bathtub?”
Ricky laughed. “Yes they understood we were in a hurry. They were actually pretty cooperative this time.” He shook his head. “They did have to take a minute to play lesbian bath scene.” He smiled. “That’s becoming their favorite bathtub game.”
I winked at Ricky. “You know if we could sneak a video camera into the bathroom and film them playing that game, we could get rich.”
Ricky grinned at me. “I don’t know how to break this to you Stevie but we’re already rich.”
I laughed. “So we are Ricky, so we are.”
I took a quick survey of the food preparations and turned back to Ricky. “When the timer goes off take the cinnamon rolls out of the oven. I’m going to grab a quick shower and a shave. I’ll be right back.”
The girls were just finishing dressing when I passed through the bedroom on my way to the bathroom.
As I walked through Sandra asked “How can we help Stevie?”
“Why don’t you guys put a table cloth on the big patio table and get out plates and silverware. Oh and we need to put coffee mugs and cream and sugar out on the bar. Everyone is going to want coffee when they get here.”
By the time I got done showering and dressing Ricky and the girls had everything well in hand. The preparations were all complete when the doorbell started to ring at 10:00.
The wedding rehearsal was quick. Our ceremony was short and simple. The only thing we had to go over was when each of us had to walk in and where we were supposed to stand. Brenda ran the rehearsal. She’s an extraordinarily organized woman. The whole operation was very smooth.
The brunch was outstanding. It was a beautiful day. We all sat on the patio and ate.
Sandra’s parents couldn’t get over how beautiful our house was in the light of day. They were completely amazed when we took them into the front yard and told them that we had just purchased the house next door for Brenda, Bobby, Maddie, Jamal, April and Mark.
After everyone else went back inside, April stood silently in the front yard and stared at the house. It was the first time that she’d had an opportunity to look at it with the knowledge that she would soon be living there.
I walked over to her. “What do you think of the house April?”
She smiled at me. “Stevie it’s magnificent. It looks like something out of a romance novel. I can’t believe that I am actually going to get to live there.”
“April I think that life is about to get really good for all of us.”
April took my hand. “Stevie we were all incredibly lucky to get to know each other. All of you are absolutely wonderful friends.”
“I feel the same way April.”
“Stevie why do you think we were so blessed with luck.”
“Serendipity April; we’ve all been visited by serendipity.”
April looked at me. “Stevie I am a high school English teacher. I know all about Horace Wahlpole and the Three Princes of Serendip.”
I laughed. “April you already know a lot more that I do.
She smiled. “Then allow me to teach you. Wahlpole was an Englishman who resurrected an old Persian tale about three princes who went on an exotic journey. While they were on this adventure they demonstrated this amazing ability to stumble across wonderful treasures that they weren’t actually seeking. Wahlpole called it serendipity.
April smiled at me. “You’re right Stevie. I went to Baxter’s one night hoping to get laid and found all of you by accident. Becoming friends with you guys was a wonderful treasure that I never imagined before I met you. Finding all of you was definitely an instance of serendipity.
Suddenly April’s mood changed. She stared at the ground and sighed. I looked at her. There was a tear running down her cheek.
I put my arm around her. “What’s the matter sweetheart?”
She looked at me and smiled. “I’m sorry Stevie, my life right now is wonderful; but several years ago I went through a very difficult time. I’m still not fully recovered.”
“Tell me about it.”
She shook her head. “No not today. It’s a long story and this is your wedding day.” She put her arm around my waist. “Today just having you as my friend is all I need. Someday when the time is right, I’ll tell everyone.”
For a moment April and I just stood and silently held each other. When two people are close friends there are times when that’s all that’s necessary.

We were throwing the party of the year. Me and three friends had moved into an apartment together, the first time the other three had ever lived away from their parents. I had lived by myself before, so I was used to it, but they wanted to celebrate. I’ve never refused an opportunity to get ridiculously wasted, so I enthusiastically helped make plans and invite people.
The afternoon before the party, we had enough alcohol and weed to last us a while. Jello shots and seven six packs of beer in the fridge (the only things in there so far), five bottles of liquor in the freezer, four massive blunts, and two nickel bags. It was a Wednesday night, the night off from the bar where I work, and I planned to make the most of it. The four of us took Jello shots and smoked a blunt before the guests arrived, toasting the beginning of a year of being together.
Needless to say, we were all fucked up by the time the party got going, but everyone soon caught up. There were maybe about forty people milling around in different rooms, all holding a drink in their hand and usually passing around a pipe or some sort of smoking apparatus. I was standing in the kitchen with a group of people, smoking out of my bong, when I first saw her.
She had long, straight, silky black hair that contrasted beautifully with her green eyes. She was slim, but not boyishly so. She was wearing a white halter top and tight, tight jeans that showed off her cute butt perfectly. Definitely not boyish in the least.
I had never seen her before, and I couldn’t stop looking. She was so gorgeous. I watched her take a hit from a joint and, still holding the smoke in, take a shot. She exhaled slowly, the smoke curling sensuously around her lips. Her eyes met mine through the smoke and she smiled slowly. I gave her the same smile and was rudely interrupted by someone tapping me on the shoulder. “It’s your hit,” they said.
We continued flirting with our eyes the whole night, never speaking to each other. Sometimes she’d have her back to me and every once in a while she’d look over her shoulder, smile, and return to her conversation.
I was more high than drunk, but eventually I had to pee. I pushed my way past a group of people taking a shot, heading towards the main bathroom. I went inside and closed the door, making eye contact with her right before the door clicked shut. I turned around and walked towards the toilet when I heard the door open behind me. I turned around, ready to tell whoever it was that the bathroom was occupied.
I was cut off by her lips, pressed against mine. Not breaking the kiss, she kicked the door shut. She gently pushed her tongue between my lips and I moaned into her mouth as our bodies melted into each other. She moaned back and ran her hand down my back, coming to rest on my ass. She pressed my hips into hers and I slipped my left thigh between her legs, pressing it against her pussy. She pushed her thigh up into my pussy and grabbed onto my right thigh, pulling it kind of up and around her.
Soon we were moaning and humping each other’s legs desperately, my hands tangled in her hair. I shoved her against the wall, gasping before kissing her passionately and rubbing my entire body hard against hers. She pushed herself away from the wall and did the exact same thing to me that I had just done to her. I grabbed the front of her shirt, such as it was, and pulled her down, so she was on top of me on the floor. My hips kept rising against hers unconsciously, and using her feet, she spread my legs wider. Our ankles and feet rubbed against each other as she slowly began rubbing her pussy against mine, her legs rubbing the insides of my thighs.
The door opened and someone started walking in before realizing what was on the floor. We stopped and looked at her while she said drunkenly, “Oh shit. Sorry,” and hurriedly walked out. My girl got up and locked the door.
“There,” she said, turning around to look at me, still lying on the floor with my legs spread. She looked me up and down slowly as I looked back at her, lips parted slightly and breathing heavily. As she got back on top of me she moaned, “You’re so turned on,” and kissed me again.
I took her hand and pressed it against my stomach, slowly sliding it down into my jeans. Her breathing quickened, as did mine. My jeans were too tight to allow two hands in there, so I unzipped them and slipped her hand the rest of the way in there, underneath my thong. We both moaned as her palm cupped my bare, shaved pussy.
“Can you feel my pussy throbbing?” I half asked, half moaned.
She moaned and slipped a finger inside me slightly. I hissed and jerked my hips up, desperate for her to go deeper. I pulled my shirt over my head and threw it to the side. Taking my hint, she almost tore her clothes as she took them off. There was no soft, romantic removing of each other’s clothes. This was pure animal lust.
When we were naked she practically fell on top of me, our hands frantically moving over each other’s breasts, stomach, arms, everywhere. Our slightly sweaty bodies moved together, spreading our pussy juice over each other. My legs came up until my knees were almost touching my chest, my feet pressing against her thighs. She pulled back and knelt over me, her hand sliding down between my breasts and down my stomach as I squirmed and moaned. She leaned on her elbows between my legs and licked my pussy once with the flat of her tongue, making me cry out. Her tongue was so warm and wet against my pussy I felt like I was going to come right then.
“Mmm,” she said. “You taste so sweet.” She spread my pussy lips wide with both of her hands before making one long lick from my pussy hole to my clit. I’ve never felt more exposed to anyone, my pussy wide open for her to see. It turned me on even more.
She started lapping at my swollen, throbbing clit. My thighs clenched around her head. She looked up at me and sucked my clit into her mouth gently, then slowly increased the intensity. I arched my back, my moans becoming more desperate. She slid her hands under my ass and pressed me in, her face pushing against me while she sucked on my clit. I grabbed her head and began crying out, my hips jerking in time with each cry and wave of unbelievable pleasure. I started coming down and ground my pussy against her face as I felt the pressure in my pussy diminish slowly.
Finally I let go of her head and relaxed, gasping for breath. She crawled up until we were face to face and gave me a long, deep kiss. “I want to go down on you,” I said, holding her head in my hands.
I flipped her over and ran both my hands over her breasts and down her stomach. She moaned and arched her body wherever my hands passed over. My hands slid over the soft skin of her inner thighs, feeling them tremble under my fingers.
I knelt in front of her and, tucking my hair behind my ear, ran my tongue along the edge where her pussy and thigh meet. She moaned and reflexively straightened her legs to either side of me, as I did the same to the other side. Using the tip of my tongue, I drew random lines and shapes all over her pussy, from top to bottom, side to side while she continued to squirm and moan.
I slowly stuck my tongue inside her pussy, pressing my nose against her clit and the area around it. My body shivered as I felt her pussy contracting and throbbing around my tongue and against my face. I slid my tongue out and sucked on her inner lips, gently biting them. I moved onto her outer lips, sucking each one into my mouth and licking it with the flat of my tongue simultaneously.
I stopped sucking on her outer lips and moved up, my tongue still flat against her pussy. I pressed her clit with my tongue, then circled it with the tip of my tongue, at the base of her clit. She cried out and jerked her hips up into my face, a sticky line of her pussy juice extending between her pussy and my lip.
I licked it off, savoring the taste, and went back to work, flicking her clit first on one side, then the other, then straight on. Her thighs clenched around my head, then she slid one leg up my cheek until her knee was pointed towards the ceiling. I pushed her hood completely back from her clit and continued flicking my tongue over it rapidly.
When it seemed like she was just on the verge of coming, I took her clit in my mouth and sucked on it, shaking my head back and forth. She threw her head back and arched her entire body, her muscles tensed and shaking as she fought to hold in her screams. I felt her clit pulsing in my mouth, eventually slowing down until she was quiet and relaxed.
I gave her pussy one last lick and slid my body up hers, kissing her slowly. We kissed like that for a minute and then I got up, saying, “We better let these people use the bathroom now.”
She agreed and we pulled on our clothes, taking breaks to give each other a sweet kiss on the lips. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and asked, “What’s your number?” With a little laugh she added, “What’s your name, actually?”
I gave them to her and after fixing our hair, we walked out of the bathroom like nothing had ever happened.

Just another hot day in paradise as my slave Michelle and I lay by the pool, watching the few hotel guests that lounged around. “Master I’m horny.” My slave moaned to me rolling over on her deck chair. God she looked great, her body could always conjure up lustful thoughts in my head.
“What do you want?” I whispered to her.
“Well a third would be nice but they are all vanillas.” She pouted looking at me disappointed.
“Well I have an idea!” With that I unhooked her lead from the deck chair and led her back to the room, enjoying the stares of the other guests. One American woman stood in our way, “You ought to be shot!” She snapped at me as we approached.
“Thank you very much.” I replied smiling as we walked past her. I heard Michelle giggling like a school girl behind me and I gave a sharp tug on her lead to remind her to behave.
“Master what do you have in mind?” She asked as we entered the room, her eyes giving away her excitement. She always enjoyed my little games. I didn’t speak, but pulled her to me, kissing her passionately, our tongues finding their way into each others mouth. I love the taste of her, and it was several moments before our lips parted. “That was so nice.” She purred. Removing her bikini was fast and painless then standing naked before me, her body already making my cock hard, I gave her the signal to kneel and she dropped to her knees leaning forward so her forehead touched the floor.
I went over to my toy-bag and removed what I called the plunger, that was because of the large rubber suction cup but the handle was square instead of a pole. I went to the large veranda window and pushed it up on the wall above. I pulled the little lever that secured it then tested it by holding onto the handle and lifting my weight off the floor. That done I then retrieved the manacles and pulled them through the handle and all was ready. I walked over to Michelle and covered her eyes with a silk scarf, grabbed her hair and lifted her to her feet. I helped her over to the manacles and raising my slaves’ arms fastened them to her wrists. It was perfect they held her slightly up on the balls of her feet. I removed my clothes and stood behind, kissing her neck as I undid the scarf. She pushed back against me feeling my hard cock pressed up against her. Once she was able to see, I pulled the cord on the drapes opening the curtains. “Master we can be seen!” She said a mixture of fear and excitement in her voice. In truth though the room looked out on to the pool area, it was in a small alcove, so you actually had to be right is front of the window to see anything.
I retrieved some nipple clamps from the toy bag my slave called out to me; “Master we’ve been seen!” I turned to see a man staring at her, lust filling his eye’s as he came closer, his hand travelling to the crotch of his swimming trunks, rubbing his growing hardness through the material. Michelle moaned out loud knowing she was helpless in front of this stranger who was taking in every inch of her body. I smiled walking back, nodded at him then attached the clamps to each of her nipples. She cried out, the sharp pain evident but I knew her nipples were extra sensitive and right now must feel as if they were on fire. I leaned in against her kissing and licking the nape of her neck before biting down hard. Again she cried out, then I looked up to see the man look around before reaching into his trunks and pulling out his hard cock and start stroking it. Again I went to the toy bag producing the goat skin flogger, long fine strands of leather, I drew it back then brought it back across her arse. She cried out half in pain half in lust as I continued to flog her arse and her back, watching with delight as deep red welts appeared.
I was so deep in concentration with the whipping that I had failed to notice our guest was now joined by a second man. Michelle opened her eyes and moaned out loud as she watched these two men rubbing their hard cocks in unison as they took in her naked body. Knowing it was her body filling these men with lust was driving her crazy,. A sharp intake of breath followed the laying on of my hand upon her welts, the heat emitting from her body was incredible and I noted her breathing had become deep and hard. Another man suddenly appeared, this one a little over weight, but like the other men he too started rubbing his growing shaft through his swimming trunks. Michelle moaned even louder as she made eye contact, staring at him, seeing the lust, the wanting in his eyes.
Then a woman appeared and as she saw my hard shaft spring into view, she visibly groaned then started to pinch her nipples through her bikini top. I moved so that Michelle could watch the three men who now actively stroked their exposed hard cocks as I picked up the rubber flogger and laid into her. She screamed so loud that surely even our audience on the other side of the window could hear. But the only sign they showed that they have heard anything was the tempo with which they stroked themselves. The woman had her hand down her bikini bottoms now and I could see the furious movement of her fingers as they stroked in and out of her cunt. The rubber flogger left welt upon welt, and I could see Michelle’s head drop. I grabbed her hair and pulled her head back to see tears freely rolling down her cheeks and I leaned forward licking them, savouring their salty taste. The woman outside the glass door looked to visibly moan upon seeing this and rubbed her soaking cunt even harder.
I teased Michelle with my hard cock “Do you want me to fuck you?” I asked
“Oh please Master, please give me your hard cock, I need it so bad, fill my pussy with it while I watch these people wank for us.” I pushed my raging hard shaft into her soaking wet pussy as she lifted herself up using the manacle to wrap her legs around me. I pounded her cunt hard and fast, no gentleness involved, she was my fuck toy and I planned to use her as I willed. I could hear the muffled voices of our audience shouting encouragement as I brought my slave closer to her orgasm.
My fuck toy moaned and swayed then pushed back against me. She was so tight, so wet as I pushed in and out of her. Her eyes stayed open as she watched the group of men still stroking themselves and the woman who was still playing with her slit. Then she moved, at first I thought she was leaving but it was only to get a better view of my cock buried deep in my slave. Michelle was gripping me, milking me as I pumped her hard. The men were now stroking to my rhythm, as if they were somehow a part of our fucking. I pounded Michelle harder, her moans and cries were getting louder as our guests kept pace. I could feel my balls tightening as the first man to watch visibly screamed as his cum started to spurt, splashing the window, leaving a coating of his seed dripping off the glass. This set off the other two men as they too yelled and spurted their sperm up against the window. Michelle seeing this screamed aloud “Master I’m cumming!” As she shuddered to an orgasm and at that precise moment I released the clamps on her poor abused nipples. The sudden rush of blood to them ensured wave after wave of her orgasm washing over her, prolonging her pleasure.
I released my slave from her bonds as the three men slowly started to move away, but I noticed that the woman stayed behind, her hand still working away at her cunt her orgasm evading her. She must have thought the show was over for a worried look came over her face, but I smiled at her reassuringly then pushed my slave to her knees and pressed my hard cock to her lips. Michelle started licking the head, before taking it into her mouth. It felt so good as her tongue flicked the underside in the sensitive spot. No one can suck me like Michelle, as she didn’t just suck it, she made love to it. The woman viably moaned again using her hand against the window to steady herself. My slave sucked my cock hard playing with my balls as I felt my self getting close to release. The woman outside the glass door licked her lips as her fingers slid in and out of her pussy.
I felt my balls tighten and grabbing Michelle’s hair I pulled my cock out of her mouth to shoot my seed over her face. Looking over to the woman, I saw a look of desperation in her eyes, as she was aware we had all had an orgasm but her. She was pumping furiously at her slit, as I looked her in the eyes, and smiled; reassuring her again and I lifted my slave to her feet and started to lick my own cum from her face, taking it into my mouth. Michelle, gasped, as I licked then once I was done I kissed her deeply feeding my seed into her mouth making sure our guest could see exactly what it was I was doing. Michelle was so turned on by what I was doing; she shuddered to yet another orgasm. Then as we kissed our tongues entwined we both saw the woman at last scream out in orgasm, bucking against her hand and the glass door. We watched in awe of the intensity of her orgasm then she was calm leaning against the glass gulping down deep breaths of air.
The woman looked up and we stood looking at each other, while Michelle just held on to me her head buried in my chest. My hand grabbed the cord, and slowly I pulled the curtains shut, my last view was of the woman looking at me smiling before mouthing the words, “Thank you.” I blew her a kiss as the curtains closed.

Five o’clock. The magic hour. I can finally shed my disguise and resume my true form. By day, I work in an office building. I’m a lawyer and a damned good one at that. On top of being good at my job, I’m actually even pretty. I stand five feet ten inches tall, thick-bodied, wide-hipped and big-bottomed. But my face is gorgeously pretty. I’m a big, beautiful and fabulous woman. And I am proud of myself. Plus I’m a porcelain-skinned redhead with Irish roots. What’s not to like? Exactly. Who am I? Delia Carver is my name. At least in the outside world.
When night falls, my disguise falls away and I am transformed. Changed by the sheer power of my Master. The one who changed me from nothing into a glorious submissive. How I met him is a strange and fascinating tale. I’ve met lots of men who didn’t light my fire. They lacked something. Oh, they were good-looking, intelligent and wealthy. But they were nothing like my Master. The moment I laid eyes upon him, I knew. He carried himself differently from other men. He was a tall, good-looking black man. He wore simple clothes. He was distinguished in many ways. And he was a perfect example of true masculinity and power.
When I walked over to him and introduced myself, he ignored me. I had never been treated like this by any man. He was something else. His arrival at the office was noticed by every female on the premises. The Master simply exudes raw masculine power and sexual appeal. Women respond to that, whether we like to admit it or not. Deep down, especially where sex is concerned, we’re no different from men. At least they admit that sex is a powerful drive in their lives. Women are slaves to their passions, and yes, their pussies, yet cannot admit it. Must be why we’re all so damn crazy. Anyway, after gazing at the Master, I knew that I had to have him. How foolish and naïve I was. The Master was freedom and masculine virility personified. He could not belong to anyone, man or woman. He took whatever he wanted. The Master was forthrightly bisexual. Legions of gorgeous women and handsome men competed for his affections. He took what he wanted and left. That was his way. He’s a real man.
The Master walked differently from other men. He was more alluring and more graceful. He looked better in a simple black silk shirt and dark gray pants than some rich businessmen and businesswomen did in their fancy suits. The man simply had it going on, as they say. Women at the office talked about him a lot. Of the forty female lawyers of this hundred-attorney law firm, only ten were single. Yet all of us were going crazy over him. The sight of the Master was enough to dampen our panties. We wanted him. We lusted after him. We dreamed of him. We threw ourselves at him.
And he continued to ignore us.
The Master is used to having his way. He’s sexy, bold and intelligent. I did some research on him. In a past life, the Master was known as Alexander Graham Brownstone. The son of Graham Brownstone, the world’s first African-American billionaire. Graham Brownstone made a fortune in real estate during the late 1990s and early 2000s. The family patriarch had a school named after him, the Brownstone Institute of Technology, located in Graham’s native Florida. Brownstone Tech opened its doors as a four-year institution of higher education in 1999 with only five hundred students. By 2004, the student body numbered sixteen thousand. Brownstone Tech focused mainly on science education such as engineering, computer science and chemistry. In 2005, the school opened its Department of Athletics. Brownstone Tech sponsors Men’s Basketball, Bowling, Baseball, Tennis, Cross Country, Lacrosse, Ice Hockey, Golf, Football, Track, Soccer, Wrestling, Swimming and Volleyball. They also sponsor Women’s Basketball, Bowling, Softball, Tennis, Golf, Cross Country, Lacrosse, Ice Hockey, Rugby, Track, Soccer, Wrestling, Field Hockey and Volleyball. His wife Francine Goth Brownstone was a distinguished former United States Senator.
Their son Alexander was destined to become a pillar of society. He attended the Georgia Institute of Technology and had a degree in engineering. He started his own company and made a bundle. Then he turned leadership of it over to his sister, Harvard-educated businesswoman Lucille Brownstone. Alexander Brownstone began traveling the world. He hunted lions in Africa. He fought warlords in third world countries. He skydived. And he made love to sexy women and the occasional sexy man. He never hid himself from society. He was America’s Favorite Bad Boy. The world’s first openly bisexual African-American billionaire. The man who could have everything. Isn’t life cool?
Yes, Alexander Graham Brownstone and the Master were one and the same. How do I catch the man who has everything? The Master seldom went for people beneath his station. And I was far beneath him in every way. I was in love with him. And I felt unworthy of him. He was a chronically bored thrill seeker. So I offered myself as his new plaything. To be used as he wished and then discarded without a second’s thought whenever he felt like it.
Not something most women would consider. However, I was in awe of the Master. He wasn’t simply a rich and sexy stud in my eyes. He was more like a god to me.
A god among men. And I wanted to worship at his altar.
There were rules, of course. Everything that happened between us was confidential. Under strict penalties I don’t dare mention. Also, he had to have complete control over me. I wasn’t to be a loud mouth. Or a nosy bitch. Or an opinionated woman. I was to be his slave. His plaything. The Master’s very own personal bitch and doormat. What do you think I said to these terms? A resounding yes, on all counts! I wanted to experience something I never had before. To hell with society’s rules and conventions. I wanted to be my Master’s bitch!
My Master brought me to his dungeon and had some fun with me. He bound me hand and foot with chains on a large wooden bench. I was on all fours, my thick and sexy body glistening in the darkness. The Master held a leather whip in his hands. He lashed out and struck me with the whip. I yelped in surprise. It left red marks on me. Laughing, he continued to whip me. I screamed. The whip really hurts. And it cracks like lightning. The Master continues to beat me with his whip. He lashes me all over my back and my waist, hips and buttocks. My pale pink skin is turning bright red. And he’s loving it. Next, he lights up several candles and lets the hot wax drip all over me. I feel the hot wax on my back, breasts, buttocks, etc. It burns. The Master hears me complain and swiftly administers punishment. He whips me on top of waxing me in his special way. I scream in pain. Laughing, he smacks me. Hard. I stop screaming. He nods quietly. We’re about to try something else. As usual, I’m all for it.
I am still bound and on all fours, but I feel my plump butt cheeks being spread wide open. And something cold and slick is being applied on my anus. I don’t need to turn around to know what’s happening. My Master tells me in a very calm voice that I am about to get fucked in my fat ass. Before proceeding, he does something out of the ordinary. He places a paper bag over my head. It has holes in it for me to see and breathe. This is definitely different. I am thrilled, and a bit scared. Especially when I feel something hard and stiff press against my butt hole. With a swift thrust, my Master penetrates me. I was gritting my teeth in expectation of the pain, which was great in spite of the lubricant. Nevertheless, I howled. Oops. There goes my anal virginity. The Master places his hands upon my hips and thrusts deeper into me.
As he rams his cock into my tunnel of darkness, I scream. It hurts, damn it. More than I thought it would. And he’s being none too gentle about it either. But I like the rough stuff. I get off on it. The Master’s cock is filling up my tight asshole. I feel like I am stretched to the limit. Like I can’t take anymore. Yet his cock is plunging deeper inside me and expanding my ass with every thrust. He is the invading conqueror. And he’s taking no prisoners. So I do the only thing I can do. I relaxed, and enjoyed. Getting fucked in the ass with a paper bag over my face was getting my pussy seriously wet. I was practically a puddle down there, and getting wetter by the minute. As for the Master, he slammed into me mercilessly. He was owning my ass and made damn sure I knew it. We went at it like this until he came, sending his hot manly seed deep inside of me.
I got to tell you, feeling his hot cum rushing inside my ass was like no other feeling in the world.
I remain postured like this. On all fours. Bound and completely docile. I’ve been seduced, taken in hand, controlled and royally fucked in the ass. How do I feel? Well, side from the pain in my ass and the nervous twitching in my pussy, I feel like a million bucks. I was completely dominated by a macho man and I absolutely loved it.
What do you think my Master did afterwards? A sensible person would unbind me and let me go, after thanking me for a night of fun. The Master simply left me there. He left the dungeon and returned hours later. Only then did he unbind me and release me. What do you think I did? I fell on my knees before him and gave him my thanks. He laughed and simply told me to be there at the same time next week.

My name’s Marlene. I’m a transvestite. A crossdresser. My picture is on this site so you can see what I look like. I like both guys and girls although lately I’ve really been into cock more than “normal”. I dress as much as I can but am limited by my work and that old enemy, time.
There’s this guy I know named Chris. He’s a few years younger than my 34 and is a very good looking seemingly nice guy. I knew him originally through my work (that’s me being a guy). He works for a competitor of the company that I work for in a close to crossover position to me. There have been several situations where we’ve run into each other and seemed to get along. He’s six foot and maybe 175. Brownish blonde hair, green eyes. Nice tan too.
A few weeks ago I was “out” with a guy that I’ve dated before. We’re just friends now (one of the nice things about being a girl like me is that with that male sex drive we can be friends and still fuck each other!) But sometimes go out clubbing together as we’re a good looking couple. We were at this gay/tg friendly club in the beach area doing some reasonable drinking and dancing when out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw Chris. Freaked me out! I looked again and didn’t see him. Awhile later I thought I saw him looking at me. And then later again. Dressed I don’t look a lot like my male persona so I wasn’t really concerned. Then again what was Chris doing at that place?
I saw Chris at a business thing a week or so later. We shook hands and I told him it seemed like I hadn’t seen him for months.
“I could have sworn I saw you the other night.” He said to me. “Seemed like it was at some club in at the beach.”
“Not me. Too busy to club it up.” I replied probably somewhat nervously.
“Yeah you’re right. Probably someone who looked like you.” And that was pretty much the end of it.
That weekend I had the hots for something hot so I got dressed and went back to that same club to see if there was something interesting there for me. I had worn a shortish red skirt with black hose and three inch toeless strappies. For a top I had on a black silk undershirt. My nipples were already hard. I was at the bar sipping a Cosmo just looking around when I saw him. Chris. Maybe fifty feet away. I turned back to the bar but I thought he might have seen me before I did so. I moved away from the bar and kind of kept him in my field of vision as best I could. But then I lost him and found myself back at the bar thinking that he’d left. Whew.
“You look a lot hotter in that skirt than in one of those Armani suits you favor.” Said the voice in my ear. I turned my head to find Chris at my side with a wicked grin on his handsome face. “I knew it was you that other night but I wasn’t sure. Now I am. You’re really hot looking————what name is it?”
“My name’s Marlene.” I said to him in my sexiest voice. I figure if I’m busted I might as well play it for all it’s worth. The crowd had pressed him close to me. He looked into my eyes and took my hand in his and pressed it against the front of his pants so I could feel his semi hard cock. “Oh yeah Marlene. I think we’re going to get along well baby.” I gave him a cold look and said “I have no interest whatsoever in getting along with you Chris. Just because you come across me dressed like this you think you can call some shot with me? Good fucking luck!”
“No problem. I’ll just leave you alone then “Marlene”.” He turned to walk away and then turned back to me. “Just be ready for everyone in both of our companies to know about your interesting little proclivity.” He brought his hand up in front of my face and there was a flash as his cam phone took a pic of me in all my glory.
Well you can probably figure out the rest. I reached out and grabbed him. I begged him. And in the end I went with him to his place.
Chris lived downtown in a very cool loft. Big place. Really high ceilings. When we got there he got out his phone and made several calls. “I just called four of my boys to come over and party with us. You don’t mind do you?”
I couldn’t very well mind could I. (Blushblush) He told me he was going to go freshen up and left me in the main area for awhile. He came back wearing an undershirt and some black boxer shorts.
We sat around smoking some dope and doing a couple of shots each. We talked a little bit about nothing while he’d reach down and rub his semi hard cock. He kept pulling up the hem of his boxers on one leg showing me the head of his dick until a couple of guys got there. Chris introduced them as Mike and Vincent. Chris told me to stand up so they could see me so I got up and did a little pirouette for them. All three were doing guy stuff like whistling and giving a little cheer. Chris told Mike and Vincent that they might as well get comfortable so both of them stripped down to boxers (Mike) and briefs (Vincent). Just then the doorbell rang and Chris let in the last two guys: a Hispanic boy about 5′8″ and 150 or so–very pretty. His name was Luis. The last was a black guy named Carl. Maybe 5′6″ and 140. I’m taller than he is. They both see the way things might be going and strip down but by now the other three are taking off their bottoms and are all naked so the last two join in. My eyes locked on Juan and Carl’s equipment as both were really big especially for their stature. Carl was an easy eight inches and really thick—nasty looking cock. Juan was a slender 10 inches. Swear. The other three boys were nothing to whine about either! All in all a lot of wicked tempting meat for me. I hurriedly stripped down to my heels. hose and panties.
Chris told me to look up at the high rafters. I looked and could see some pulleys with ropes tied off to the side. Chris untied the ropes and let down the cuffed ends from the pulleys. They were leather with sheepskin linings. Four of them. They tied off my ankles and wrists and pulled me up so I was parallel to the floor about three and a half feet high and spread as wide as they could spread me without dislocating something. My panties were tented cause this was making me hot. Chris came over and stood at my crotch and started rubbing my cock and balls. Carl was behind my head with his big cock. He was rubbing it all over my face.
“You gonna be our cocksucking cum whore? ” He asked me as he poked the purplish head at my nose. “You gonna eat some nasty cum and get it shot in you and over you you fucking fag pig cunt.” His cock was getting really hard the more he talked to me. He was hitting me on the face with the head while the other guys stood around stroking their dicks. “I want some of that cocksucking mouth pussy you bitch!” He said as he pulled my head back so I was almost looking down. He forced my mouth open and shoved his eight inch dick into my mouth sliding it all the way in til his hair was in my face. “Don’t bite it you slut! Just swallow it like it’s the candy you love to eat.”
I was swallowing the head into my throat trying to milk it with my muscles. Every time I’d relax my throat he’d try to get it a little deeper into me making me gag and choke a little bit. “Oh yeah bitch! Gag your faggot pig throat on my meat! Choke on it til you die!” Someone had moved between my wide spread legs and was sticking what felt like several fingers into my ass. He had his fingers in me positioned so he could practically squeeze my prostate. I could feel cum leaking out of me as he rubbed me making me so hot! The fingers pulled out and I felt the head of a cock playing around at the entrance to my hot wet pussy hole. Carl pulled his dick out and started rubbing it over my face smearing his pre cum all over me. I could see that his head was all reddish purple and felt like a hot wand going over me. “Oh fuck I’m gonna cum you mother fucking cunt!” And as he spurted jets of hot white cum all over my face and in my mouth the guy between my legs plunged his cock into my asscunt. The sensation of it all made me crazy with hot slutty lust for cock and cum.
Carl pulled away and Vincent took his place sticking just the head of his dick in my mouth teasing me with it. I was sucking and slurping it while the guy fucking me was pulling almost all the way out. Then wiggling the head of his dick in my slut hole and then shoving it all the way back in and fucking me really hard while he cursed at me and called me a whore. The guy in my cunt pulled out and started slapping his hard cock against my balls making it hurt just enough. He was holding my cockclit and his cock together rubbing them up and down while he squeezed my balls. All of a sudden his cock shot up three big spurts of white cum. The first one shot up and landed on my face and the other two he shot onto my clit and balls. It was so hot feeling as he did it. Vincent was still just barely fucking my mouth with the head of his dick. He pulled out and moved down so he could stick it into my ass.
“Oh baby your ass is so hot to fuck!” he said as he slid in and out of me. “You’re so hot that your big stick pussy’s all cummy and wet.” He said as he reached down to rub the head as he fucked me.
“Shoot it in her ass Vincent!” Exclaimed Chris. “I’ll catch it in a shot glass and she can drink it after its been in her cunt.” I’ve drunk cum out of a glass before and if it’s fresh and hot it makes a nasty cocktail. Vincent was moaning and really fucking me hard. He cried out and gave one final shove all the way into me and then tried to pull out before he came. But it was so upon him that his cock was still halfway in me when he got off his first shots of cum.
“Oh fuck yes you hot slut!” He cried as he shot off.
“Pull away from her Vince. I wanna get the cum.” Said Chris as Vincent backed away from me. When his cockhead popped out of me I felt his cum oozing out of me. “Oh yeah Vince! You shot off a big fucking cum wad!” Said Chris as he collected the cum in a double shot glass. He waited while more came out of me and then moved up by my head. He held my head up and put the glass to my lips.
“Why dontcha kiss me with it in your mouth Chris.” I said. “Taste Vincent’s cum and then feed it to me baby.” He licked his lips. Looked at Vincent and the others. And then took the shot glass up to his mouth and ate the cum in it. He bent over still holding my head and kissed me shoving the cum into my mouth. There was a lot of it and I swallowed the thick cum like it was champagne. Our tongues were dancing at eachother and I felt his free hand slide down my body til he encircled my cockclit with his fingers.
“You got three of my boys off baby. Just me and Mike left. But we’re gonna fuck you up good and hot. With that he and a couple of the others let me down. They took me over to the couch and while Mike got on the couch so that his crotch was facing the arm. Chris bent me over the arm and shoved my head down so that my mouth opened around Mike’s dick. I let it go into my throat and as it did Chris stuck his hot cock into me from behind. Mike was humping up into my mouth while Chris did a slow fuck in me. Sliding his big dick in and out of my well lubed cunt. He reached under me and took hold of my clit and started stroking it using the cum still leaking from it to lube me. I was so hot to cum.
Mike was now holding my head down so that his dick was buried in my throat. I was gagging and choking on it but he didn’t care he was so lost in the moment. Chris was fucking me and jerking me off. My arms were flailing around and I was literally choking to death but at the same time I was so high. I was starting to see spots in front of my eyes when Mike gave a deep groan and came in me. His blast of cum was so intense and my throat was so blocked by the head of his cock that the cum shot into my sinus cavity and came out my nostrils. Hot cum leaking out of my nose while I gasped for breath. The cum was bubbling and drooling into my mouth. I gasped and cum flew off of me. Chris was so deep in me.
“Oh yeah Marlene! You’re so fucking hot baby. I’m gonna cum oh fuck I’m gonna cum!” He cried out as the fifth load of the night went into me. It felt hot and so very wet inside of me. Chris pulled out of me and I felt his cum leaking out as I lay over the arm of the couch. Chris bent over me and kissed my cheek. “I’m so glad I found you out baby. We’re going to have to do things like this some other time lover.”
I looked around at the worn out guys. I was still so hot I could have fucked 20 guys. “What do you mean some other time Chris?” I winked at him as I said “There really is no time like the present is there baby?”

This story is a sequel to “Hitchhikers of Gor” and will probably make a little more sense if you read that story first, although I have tried to write it to function as a stand alone story. It is a satire of John Norman’s Gor novels, so it might be somewhat more accessible if you’ve read one of them, but I would hope the story could be enjoyed without this prerequisite. Read the foreword to “Hitchhikers of Gor” for the basics of what Gor is all about.
*****
This was more like it. I had a job. I was the bartender at the Earth Weenie Social Club. It was sort of a private paga tavern–members only. The membership consisted exclusively of immigrants from Earth. I was both member and employee. I didn’t get paid all that much, but the job came with room and board. I still didn’t have a slave girl of my own at the moment, but I didn’t really need one. One of the perks of the job was that I was in charge of the club’s slave girls. There were about a dozen of them and maybe two thirds were Earth immigrants, although their immigration had not been voluntary. The club’s name, by the way, was always pronounced in English, never in Gorean.
I had been surprised when they offered me the job. A few weeks before, I had tracked Lysol down and told him I was in need of help finding a job. He’d invited me to the next meeting of the support group. The group met weekly at the club. There were about fifteen or twenty guys at the first meeting I attended. They seemed like a pretty average bunch, but were suspicious of me. They asked tons of questions. They wanted to know how I’d gotten here, all about my life on Earth, what skills I had, had I ever been in the military, and how did I feel about Gor and Goreans.
Finally, I got sick of the grilling. “What’s with the inquisition? I thought this was a support group.”
“Sorry,” said Bardol (he seemed to be in charge). “We just need to know who we’re dealing with. We can’t have the wrong sort of people in here. Besides, the more we know about you, the better we can help.”
I wondered who the wrong sort of people might be. “I need a job. You don’t need to know too much about me to figure that out.”
“Don’t take it personally,” Lysol said. “We’re always willing to help a fellow Earthman, but we have to do it in our own way. This is your first meeting, so go with the flow until you know the ropes.”
“Hey, I’m not trying to be a pain, but this isn’t like any support group I ever heard of.”
“Well, hang onto your hat,” said Bardol. “We aren’t done. Did you bring a gun?”
“Yeah, I’ve got a .45.”
“So if you came with Octavius, you’ve probably got fifty rounds. He always pulls that shit.”
“Forty-nine. I had a run in with a sleen.” I described my encounter with the sleen.
“If you hit that thing in the head while it was charging, you’ve got a cooler head and a sharper eye than average.”
“I do.”
“That’ll come in handy. How many rounds did Octavius keep?”
“A hundred and fifty.”
“A bit skimpy, but it’ll have to do. I’ll set things in motion to get them back.”
“What do you mean?”
“Octavius, and most of the other pilots, usually confiscate ammo when they can get away with it, then sell it back to us at a premium. A little business they run on the side. As to your current problem, we’ll get to work on finding some sort of employment for you. In the meantime, you can borrow what you need to keep afloat from the group. We keep interest rates reasonable among ourselves, but it would be a bad idea to get carried away. Only borrow what you really need.”
The discussion turned toward general problems and complaints. As an immigrant community, we faced a number of problems. Ar was the most cosmopolitan city on Gor, but was nonetheless quite provincial. Our accents, which marked us as outsiders, and our lack of marketable skills in this economy meant that making a living was more of an adventure than any of us really appreciated. It was apparent from listening that the group was headed toward building it’s own economy.
The meeting was being held in English, a fact which I appreciated. My Gorean was still a bit shaky. “Are these meetings always in English, or are you just doing it for my benefit?”
“We always do it in English,” Lysol said. “We want to maintain fluency; also, it’s more secure.” Bardol gave Lysol a look that suggested security had just been breached.
They loaned me enough money to get me through the week until the next meeting. I thanked them and left. They said that in the meantime they’d beat the bushes for some kind of job for me. I was confused as to the exact nature of this support group. I had expected a social gathering where everyone would commiserate about how mean and nasty the world was treating them. This was run more like a business meeting. The members seemed prosperous–well dressed and confident, albeit cliquish to the point of paranoia. I went back each week for several weeks. Each week they would probe a little deeper into my past and present activities, then loan me some more money and tell me they were still looking for a job for me. The overall atmosphere reminded me vaguely of the Teamsters–paternal rather than fraternal and benevolent as long as you were part of the group and didn’t break the rules. I wasn’t entirely sure what the rules were, so I tried not to make any waves. They were obviously checking me out, getting to know me and evaluating.
Finally, on my fifth visit, I was told they had something for me. Prego, the current bartender at the club, was being promoted and the position was available if I wanted it. I accepted and moved out of my rundown insula and into the club. My duties were less than onerous. In the morning, I’d get the slave girls up, feed them, then set them at their tasks. They did all the work except make the drinks. I took pride in doing that myself. That was one of the differences between us and the average paga tavern. We had real drinks. Most paga taverns served paga (something like a strong ale) or various wines, but nothing stronger. The Goreans seemed to have discovered fermentation, but not distillation. We had a couple of stills out back where we made bourbon and a pretty good brandy from the local kalana wine. The club was generating some income by supplying these to other taverns around Ar and there were plans to enlarge the distillery.
I hung out at the club all day. I wore a white apron over my tunic and when things were slow I would wipe the bar down and philosophize to whomever would listen. As the days went by and I got to know the various members better, I began to get a picture of what was going on. The club had it’s fingers in a number of pies, and liquor sales was one of the more legitimate ones.
Apparently, the Goreans had also neglected to invent organized crime and the club was hard at work repairing this lack (organized crime being defined as crime carried out on a businesslike basis by organizations other than governments). I still wasn’t sure what all the club was into, but it appeared to be prospering. I realized that my job was a way for me to start at the bottom and work my way up. In the meantime, I was where everybody could keep an eye on me. I didn’t mind. I knew that cohesion was extremely important to make it all work and it would take time for everyone to know me well enough to feel secure about me.
I set about reorganizing the staff and their routines. The slave girls were required to line up in front of the bar and stand at attention when they had no other duties. When a member came in, the girl assigned to the area in which he sat would leave the bar and attend to him unless he was known to have a favorite girl. The minute he left, she would clean his table, wash the glasses and dishes, and return to the line. When the number of occupied tables exceeded the number of girls, they were required to circulate constantly in their assigned areas. If a girl’s area should be empty, she was to help at the most populous adjacent area. This seems like a small change, but service had previously been random, with some girls overloaded at peak periods while others had little to do. The members commented to me on the improvement in service.
At closing, I would lock all the girls who weren’t occupied in their quarters. There were rooms available for members who wanted to spend the night with a girl (the girls weren’t allowed out of the club), but this was uncommon, since most members had their own slaves. Like all Gorean taverns, there was no extra charge for the girls. They came with the price of a drink. Most commonly, members would stop by of an afternoon for a beer and a blow job.
The slave quarters consisted of several large well appointed rooms in the basement. They were accessible through one heavy door which I locked behind them every night. They were equipped with sleeping rooms, toilet facilities, their own kitchen and a stock of food, and whatever else we felt they might need. Unlike the Goreans, whom we considered to be a bunch of wackos, we made no effort to impress the girls with their servitude every waking moment. The tables were not equipped with slave rings (in fact, there were none in the club–we didn’t feel the need of them) and the girls were encouraged to address the members by name. We preferred that to the generic and impersonal ‘master’ the Goreans were so adamant about. Despite all this, there was no question as to their status. They were slaves. We didn’t put a lot of effort into impressing them with this fact. They would either get it or they wouldn’t. If they didn’t, they were punished or disposed of.
One afternoon, after I’d been on the job about a month, a couple of Goreans wandered in. I could tell from their red tunics they were warriors (‘rarius’ in Gorean–also translated as ‘asshole’). Trouble was guaranteed. The girls, as per policy, ignored non-members. The intruders began shouting for service, but were still ignored. A girl waiting on a nearby table passed, ignoring their demands. Being ignored by a slave was too much. Enraged, one stood, grabbed her and drew his sword. It was obvious he was going to kill her. I had a cocked crossbow behind the bar. Even if there had been time to pull it out, set it against my shoulder, aim, and fire, there was a distinct possibility of hitting the girl. I’d never practiced much with that weapon. I whipped out my .45.
Shooting a gun indoors is not recommended. My ears rang for hours. The slug took the warrior in the side of the head and he pitched backwards, a chunk of his skull missing. His cohort, who by now was also standing with sword drawn, dropped his weapon and started backing toward the door, waving his arms as if to ward off evil spirits.
“Not another step, fart orifice.” This was about as close as I could come to “Freeze, asshole!” in Gorean. He halted as I trained the gun on him. I shot him right between the eyes. There were to be no witnesses.
I am a man of only one talent. I have no skill at literature or science or diplomacy. I often do not understand the ramblings of learned men. What I am is a marksman. I have often thought it would be more honorable to be an excellent baker or potter or such, but I am what I am: the best shot on planet Gor. I had been kind to the second warrior. I could easily have shot his balls off–one at a time.
I had a mess on my hands. Use of firearms is frowned on by the club. We didn’t want the Goreans or the priest kings to know we had them. Had I been more experienced in the ways of Goreans, I would have known what was coming and had the crossbow ready. The girl that the warrior had grabbed was hysterical. She was a Gorean and had no experience of guns. I assigned a couple of the Earth girls to take her in hand and calm her down. I got two of the members to help me and we stripped the bodies and carried them out. The other slaves were assigned to clean up the blood and bits of skull. I wanted the place spotless by the time I came back in. We fed the warriors’ remains to the sleen, meanwhile throwing their clothing and other combustible accouterments into the furnace which heated the stills. I wrapped their swords and non-combustible possessions in a parcel with a couple of stones and dispatched a member to drop them in the river. Then we retrieved the remains unconsumed by sleen and buried them in the lime pit. The warriors were gone without a trace, just like Jimmy Hoffa.
A couple of days later, a warrior came by looking for the missing men, but we played dumb and he went away.
We discussed the incident at the next weekly gathering. I was criticized for using the gun, although allowance was made for my inexperience. A couple of guys thought I should have let the warrior kill the girl, but I told them point blank that nobody was killing any of our girls on my watch. Members who had been present at the time defended my actions. Although feelings were mixed over my shooting the first warrior, I garnered universal approval for my actions from that point on. Bardol in particular was impressed by the way I had kept my head, eliminated the only outside witness and then cleaned things up efficiently and methodically. What could have been a terrible black eye actually ended up being a feather in my cap.
Shortly thereafter, the membership voted a raise for me. I had been living on half salary, since I’d devoted the other half to retiring my debt to the club as fast as possible. My debt was now paid and the members had rewarded my diligence in the matter with a pay increase. With my debt paid, this more than doubled my take home. I could now afford my own slave girl again, but didn’t feel the need as long as I lived at the club. I slept with a different girl every night. I had a couple of favorites, but didn’t play favorites. I wanted to know as much as possible about my staff, so I chose a different girl every night in rotation.
One night, as I was locking the girls in their quarters, I heard one of the Gorean girls say something to another girl in halting English. She was quickly shushed. I pretended not to hear and went away, returning stealthily a few minutes later. I listened at the door, curious as to what was going on. The door was too thick and I could hear nothing.
Three nights later, it was my night with Marika, the Gorean girl who had spoken English. After the other girls were locked up, I hung her by her wrists and whipped her soundly.
“Now, Marika, we’re going to have a conversation. What language shall we have it in?”
“What do you mean, Master?” I lashed her savagely. “Please, Master. Please. Why do you punish me so?”
“You know what I want to know. Why are you learning English? What’s going on?”
She told me the whole story. It seemed Susan had gotten curious about what went on at our meetings. The slaves who served the meetings were always the Gorean girls, since they couldn’t understand us. This was obvious to the girls, and Susan had decided to investigate. She talked Marika into cooperating and started teaching her English. Marika would also memorize snatches of conversation from the meetings and repeat them to Susan for translation. The other girls were getting interested in the project and I was about to have a major conspiracy on my hands.
I gagged Marika, bound her, slung her over my shoulder, and returned to the slave quarters. The girls were startled when I barged in. I dumped Marika on the floor.
“OK, girls,” I yelled. “Line up.” The girls did as I bid. I walked down the line behind them binding each one’s hands behind her then gagging her. They were trying not to look at Marika whimpering on the floor, but couldn’t help themselves. I stood next to Marika and addressed them.
“It seems we have a small conspiracy in progress, so we’re going to nip this thing in the bud. As you can see, Marika has been punished and I’m sure you all know why. I still have one more miscreant to punish before I deal with you as a group. Susan, come over here.” Susan turned pale and stood rooted. I stepped toward her and she turned to run. I caught her easily.
“Now you’re in really big trouble, slave girl.” I slung her over my shoulder as I had Marika. “The rest of you, don’t move a muscle until I get back.”
I carried Susan back to my quarters and hung her by her wrists as I had Marika. Then I gave her an even more severe whipping than Marika had received. I carried her back and dumped her on the floor next to Marika. Both girls were hogtied and helpless. The other slaves were standing where I had left them. Marika and Susan would remain in the center of the floor all night as a lesson to the others. The others would spend the night gagged with their hands tied. I told them to go to bed and contemplate their folly.
The next day I released all the girls and set them about their duties. The weekly club meeting was scheduled for the afternoon and I locked all the girls back in their quarters before it began. The members noticed the lack of servants and I told them what had happened and what I had done about it.
One of the guys thought it was my fault, but Bardol disagreed. “Vitalis had nothing to do with this. It’s obvious the girls cooked this up on their own and it probably started before Vitalis even got here. If anything, we owe him our thanks for catching it, although he was perhaps a bit lenient in his reaction.”
This seemed to be the general sentiment. The guys were a lot more pissed off about this than I had thought they would be and after discussion, we voted to make an example of Susan and Marika. Security was a top priority and we didn’t want the girls knowing of our plans or activities. On Gor, slaves could legally be questioned under torture, so this whole thing was a bigger security risk than I had first realized. Bardol said he would take care of it and assigned Lysol, Prego, and myself to assist.
Lysol hung out at the club with me and early in the evening Bardol and Prego showed up. Each bore a withe cage and a heavy backpack. Upon their arrival, Lysol and I brought the girls up. They had been locked in their quarters most of the day. We tied their wrists behind them and gagged them again, then lined them up and joined their collars together with lengths of chain, except for Susan and Marika. These two each had a cage strapped to her back. The cages were square and a bit wider than their shoulders. They extended from their necks to just below their knees. We led them outside. Susan and Marika were led on individual leashes, while the others followed along behind in coffle. Lysol and I carried the packs.
We wended our way through the city and down to the river. The chain of slave girls caused no comment except for the occasional admiring glance. We marched them out onto an unused pier. We lined the coffle up along the side and chained the outside ankle of the girl at each end to a convenient slave ring (and they were convenient–you couldn’t go ten paces in any direction in this town without encountering one of the ubiquitous slave rings). Then we unburdened Susan and Marika of the cages which we laid down on the dock. I held their leashes while Bardol and Prego placed a heavy stone in each corner of each cage. Lysol took Marika’s leash and led her toward the cages. I tightened my grip on Susan’s leash. Marika was hogtied and placed face up in a cage, then her gag was removed, but she was too frightened to speak. The top of the cage was closed over her face and locked. Bardol and Prego lowered it over the side. The water was high, only about eighteen inches below the dock. Our captive audience had a fine view of her. As the water touched Marika’s back, she found her voice and began crying and pleading. She was lowered ever so slowly, the water rising about her until her pleas changed to splutters and gurgles as she lay on her back desperately pressing her face against the bars. Once her head was completely under, the ropes were loosed and she sank into the murk.

Revised version copyright 2006 by the author.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is the final chapter and the conclusion of “Halls.” Thanks to all of you who’ve written and told me you’ve enjoyed Glenn and Drew’s story. This will be the last of the “Steelman Tales” for quite a while, I suspect. KN
I didn’t have much time for the next few weeks after Drew’s departure to mourn his absence–there was too much work to be done as the beginning of fall term approached. The immediate task was to find a temporary replacement for the following year. I finally hired a graduate student and teaching assistant from the large state university nearby, a pleasant, earnest young woman halfway through her dissertation.
Marcia and I met for lunch the day after the candidate’s interview.
“Good hire,” she said. “Promising scholarship, terrific teaching evals, nice person.”
I nodded. We ate in silence for a few minutes.
“How are you doing?”
I knew what she was asking. “Oh, okay. It was hard for a while, but it’s getting better. I miss him a lot, of course.”
She nodded. “It was fun having someone of that caliber around, even it was just for a year. Kind of a wake-up call for the rest of us. I finally finished and submitted that article I’ve been working on forever.”
I smiled. “Good timing. You’re going to be pretty busy once school starts.”
She grimaced. “Don’t remind me.” She shot me a sly look. “You know, now that Drew’s gone…”
I patted her hand. “Sorry, but I’m still stepping down as chair. Hiring Patricia was my last official act.”
Marcia shrugged. “Had to give it a try. Do you want me to initiate her paperwork? Might as well get started.”
I had told myself not to expect any regular correspondence from Drew, so I was pleased to get an e-mail from him soon after the semester started.
“I’m going crazy trying to keep my head above water, but I wanted to let you know my book is out,” he said. “I’m sending you a copy.”
When it arrived I opened it. Drew had inscribed a message in front: “To Glenn, thanks for everything. Love, Drew.” I was torn between being annoyed that it wasn’t more personal and pleased that he had at least written the word “love,” even if he couldn’t say it to me.
Messages from him were infrequent that fall. I was glad, in a way, because it was easier for me not to dwell on his absence, at least during the days. Still, when I saw the e-mail from him a couple of weeks later, I opened it immediately.
Drew was in a chatty mood, talking about his new position. “Working with grad students is a bit of a change from Steelman, but I’m getting used to it. One of my colleagues here, I have to say, is quite extraordinary. And I’m not just talking about his intellect . Hope you’ll be coming to the national convention this year. I can’t wait to see you again and introduce Anton to you.”
A hollow feeling rose in the pit of my stomach as I read his message. During the crisis last spring I had promised to give Drew some space. Though my brain knew most likely he was never coming back to Steelman, my heart had held out the hope that we could continue, in some fashion.
Drew, it seemed, had other plans, and was wasting no time in putting them into action. Try as I might to rationalize that it hurt.
The next few days were difficult. During school hours my work kept me company but I couldn’t work around the clock. In the evenings the house was silent and empty without him there. My empty bed was barren and uninviting. I found myself waking in the middle of the night, not being able to go back to sleep.
On top of everything else I was climbing the walls. It wasn’t just Drew’s intellectual company I was missing.
That weekend I went back to the park, knowing this time exactly why I was going. I hiked along the same back trail I had taken months earlier. I passed several other men but ignored all of them. Now that I was here I suddenly found myself not in the mood. After half an hour I decided to give up and leave. As I was walking back toward the trailhead and the parking lot, though, I saw him.
He was a short, dark-haired man, with a mustache he had probably grown to make his smooth, unlined face look older. Even so, he looked to be no more than in his mid-twenties. He was dressed in a form-fitting gray T-shirt and jeans, typical cruising wear that showed off his tight, muscular body.
He was standing in the woods, a little bit off of the trail so that he was in shadow, his thumbs hooked into his pockets. His gaze was direct and unmistakable. I stared back, wondering if someone this young and attractive could possibly be interested in me.
He turned and walked further back among the trees, throwing a glance back over his shoulder. I felt the heat rise in me and made up my mind, stepping off the path to follow him.
“Excuse me,” a low voice said behind me. I turned, startled. Another man stood on the trail, about the same age as my object of interest, though not as attractive. He was tall and lanky, dressed in polo shirt and shorts, with dark hair and a neatly trimmed goatee. His eyes were framed by wire-rimmed glasses, giving him an owlish appearance.
I nodded quickly back at him and turned to follow the other man.
“I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.”
I wheeled around. “Why the hell not?”
The man shook his head. “Vice cop.”
“Really?” I said, surprised.
He nodded. “It’s a sting operation. His friends are back there. You unzip, they nab you. I saw them take a couple of guys away in handcuffs a while ago.”
“No kidding.” I stepped back onto the path. “Well, thanks for telling me. We’d better get out of here.” I started to walk past him but he put a hand on my arm.
“Do you have to leave?”
I snorted. “You just told me the place is full of cops.”
He lowered his voice. “You have a place? I’d ask you back to my apartment, but I have a roommate.”
This was moving faster than I’d intended. I was on the point of making some excuse but there was something about him, an urgency that matched mine. Against my will desire surged up, mixed with a peculiar excitement at the thought of outsmarting the police. “We can go in my car. I’ll bring you back here.”
“That’d be nice. My name’s Jason, by the way, Jason Stedman. Pleased to meet you,” he said, offering his hand. I shook it and said my name, suppressing a smile at his formality.
We crossed the parking lot and got in my car. There wasn’t much talk on the way home. I regretted my rash decision, though Jason seemed nice enough. It was one thing to go into the woods and impulsively relieve an unbearable need. Picking someone up and bringing him home was a much more calculated act. I didn’t like what that said about me.
“You a professor?” Jason asked, when we entered my house.
“How did you know?” I replied, a bit startled that he had figured that out.
“Chronicle of Higher Ed,” he said, pointing to a newspaper sitting on the table just inside my front door.
“Oh. Sorry, the house is a mess. I wasn’t planning on company.”
“Unexpected company’s the best kind.” Jason smiled and put his hand on my chest. “Thanks for inviting me.”
I felt myself responding to his touch and it made me nervous. “Are you always this polite?”
Jason unbuttoned the top button of my shirt, his eyes dark with desire. “Actually I’m not nearly as well-mannered with my clothes off.”
He slipped his hand inside and found a nipple. I drew in my breath, and my cock suddenly came to life.
“I love older men, especially when they’re as hot as you,” Jason murmured as he pressed his lips to mine.
A few minutes later we were on my bed. Without his glasses Jason looked even younger. His body was lean and long, not at all like Drew’s. His chest and stomach were dusted with fine dark hair. His arms and legs were corded with muscle, roped with veins. His cock was as slender as his body, as straight and as hard as only a young man’s organ can be.
“You must exercise,” I said.
“Distance running,” Jason said as his lips roved down my chest. He looked up and grinned. “And sex.”
He took me into his mouth, running his hands up and down my thighs. I raised my knees and raised my head, watching him work. My body liked what he was doing. It felt good to be wanted. I couldn’t help letting out small murmurs of pleasure as he flicked his tongue around my crown and into the opening at the top of the head.
“You’re good,” I said.
He paused and smiled up at me. “Thanks, man,” he said, before resuming his labors. In another minute or so I gasped and pulled away.
“Don’t want to cum yet. If I do we’re through for the day.”
Jason nodded. “I wouldn’t want that. You have a great cock. I’d love it if you’d fuck me.”
I was going to demur, until I remembered I still had a half-empty box of condoms in the medicine cabinet. Drew and I, of course, hadn’t used them lately. I watched the muscles working in Jason’s small, firm butt as he went to get them.
He came back to the bed holding a foil packet. He tore it open and hooded me, greasing the outside with neat precise motions using the lube that I handed him. Then he straddled my body and took hold of my cock. A moment later I felt the squeezing warmth of his ass on my shaft. Jason’s eyes widened and his mouth opened. He smiled at me.
“Just what the doctor ordered,” he said, as he began to ride my erection, pumping his long thighs with quick, enthusiastic motions, jacking his own stiff cock at the same time, making his balls jiggle up and down.
I started thrusting up to meet his downstrokes, which got his vocal approval. Soon I sat up and turned him onto his back, bending him double underneath me as I drilled into him with long deep strokes.
Jason’s hand never stopped moving on his cock. “Yeah, fuck me. Oh yeah. Feels so good, your cock inside me. Going to shoot. Oh fuck, here it comes…Oh yeah,” he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and grimacing as white spurts shot from the tip of his rod and across his body.
As his orgasm passed his eyes sought my own. “Jack yourself off in my face,” he said. When I didn’t respond right away he repeated his request with more urgency.
I didn’t particularly want to pull out of his ass, but I obeyed and pulled off the rubber. Jason closed his eyes as I straddled his chest, murmurs of anticipation rising from his throat. The thought of humiliating him with a faceful of cum was hot, and my cock, which had softened partway, grew steely hard again as I jacked it above his eager face. In just a few moments I groaned and pitched forward, unloading onto his forehead, cheeks and lips in long, hot spurts. Jason smiled, keeping his eyes tightly closed, as he tossed his head from side to side.
After a few minutes I rose to my knees. My thighs ached from the unaccustomed exertion. “If those cops could see us now,” I said, still panting.
Jason opened his eyes gingerly and grinned. My cum was running off his face and onto the sheets, a white clot clinging to his beard. “Score one for the sodomites.”
The mindless desire that had carried me through the day was gone. Suddenly I wanted this to be over. I went into the bathroom and got rid of the condom. When I came back out with a towel Jason was still lying on the bed. He smiled and raised an arm in invitation, but I didn’t take the hint. I tossed him the towel, picked up my clothes and started to dress.
“I’ll take you back.”
“Is it okay if I clean myself up a little first?” Jason asked.
I’d seen the hurt look pass across his face and felt ashamed. “Sure you can. There’s another towel by the shower if you need it. Listen,” I said, as he got up and walked toward the bathroom, “Thanks again for cluing me in on the sting.”
Jason came over and hugged me. He really was a sweet guy. “Don’t mention it. What would your students do without you?”
Back at the parking lot he turned to me. “I’d like to see you again, Glenn.”
I shook my head, trying to figure out how to let him down gently. “I don’t think so, Jason. I–well, I have a partner.” At least in my mind.
“Oh.” He turned and stared out the windshield. I had the feeling this wasn’t the first time Jason had heard those words. “Well, seems like you guys have an open relationship. Maybe we could do a threesome sometime.”
“Yeah, maybe.” I didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth.
“I’m a grad student at the University. Just go their web site and search under my last name. It’s Stedman–S-T-E-D-M-A-N.”
I nodded, wishing he’d leave. “Got it, Jason. Take care of yourself.”
I breathed a sigh of relief when the car door finally slammed. As I was backing out to head toward the exit, I saw the young man Jason had stopped me from following emerge from the trail. I braked to a halt, curious. Another man was walking next to him. They were close together, and at first I thought he had picked up a trick, that Jason had been mistaken. Then they turned in a strange unison and I saw the glint of metal. The second man’s hands were handcuffed behind his back.
I drew a bath when I got home. Soaking in the hot water was comforting, as if I were cleansing myself of sin. And there was a lot of sin to be cleansed.
I realized what had driven me to the park. I’d been angry and jealous that Drew had found someone new with such ease. In my zeal to get back at him I’d used a nice boy as an object to get my rocks off, someone who deserved better. I’d also risked arrest as a sex offender, which would have torpedoed my career.
Dried off and dressed in a bathrobe, I sat in my living room and picked up the picture of Drew and me together at the lake. I hadn’t looked at it often these past few months, finding it too painful to think about happier times.
Tonight, though, something was different. The people in the photo seemed like two strangers. Drew and I had had something good, maybe even great. But it was gone. Making a fool of myself was not going to bring it, or him, back.
“Get it together,” I said out loud. I put the photo down, got out a stack of blue book exams I should have started grading earlier that day and began reading.
I wrote to Drew the next day, saying that I was looking forward to seeing him at the national conference, and to meeting his colleague. It was easier than I thought it would be.
After that escapade I stuck to more productive uses of my spare time. It finally sank in that Marcia taking over as chair meant that I had time to read things other than department budgets, committee meeting agendas and student papers. I read Drew’s book. I grabbed time in the library, reading articles in journals I had previously merely skimmed. I pulled out the text of a presentation I had made several years previously, and began to work on turning it into an article.
Almost before I knew it February rolled around, and I was on a plane heading for Chicago and the national historians’ conference. While I was waiting in the crowded, noisy lobby of the downtown hotel to register, shifting my weight from one foot to another, I heard my name called. I turned to see Drew approaching, beaming, followed by another man. He hugged me hard, then stepped back and scanned me from head to toe with a critical eye.
“You,” he announced, “Look terrific. Not being chair agrees with you.”
“So do you,” I said, which was the truth. My heart was pounding at the sight, scent and touch of him after months of separation. I could intellectualize all I wanted about the two of us moving on, but my body had other ideas.
Over his shoulder I caught the eye of his companion. “And this must be Anton.”
Anton Messier was a well-groomed and very attractive black man. From the very first time Drew had written me about him I had wondered whether they were sleeping together. Now that I saw Anton in the flesh I was sure that was the case.
Drew must have told Anton about our history. He went out of his way to be deferential to me, even though my cre