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

The Land Whore - 9. Chapter 9


April 2, 1973



Jason came in, got me up and started briefing me before I even got out of bed. He had me scheduled solid for the whole week, but at least he'd left the evenings free.

“I want to meet with Roger. Is he around?” I asked.

Jason smirked but I ignored him. “He went up to Napa to check out some grapes. He's not supposed to be back until late tonight.”

“See if you can track him down for me, OK?” After that our discussion devolved into a conversation about money, or the lack thereof. We had to come up with some capital for the broker/dealer, and the only source for that was my house in Saratoga. I asked Jason to see if we could get a temporary loan on it while we tried to sell it. It was a neat place, but I didn't really need it.

The office was busy with meetings, meetings, and more meetings. Cecile and Luke were moving ahead with their projects and there were even more on the table. We had a strategy session and I told them that we were stretched pretty thin until we got our Broker/Dealer firm registered and we could raise money, so we all decided to focus on the things we had on the table now. Making what we had successful would make us all really wealthy, even with no new deals. We'd been in hyper-growth mode for so long it was a pleasant re-orientation. I was lucky to have such a great staff.

More meetings, then lunch with Luke to go over his four initial venture capital projects, then more meetings, and still no word from Roger. That was really depressing me, but I put it aside. I wasn't one of those guys who had to have a lover, a significant other, even though that had been the trend lately. No, I'd been fine with random encounters for a long time. Spread the love around, that was my motto, and that made me smile and ripped me out of my bad mood.

It wasn't until 7pm that I finally decided to leave work and head home. Many people worked longer hours than I did, but I didn't like working long hours. Besides, when I was at work I threw myself into it with an energy few others exhibited, so from a productivity standpoint, I was doing great. These were the things that I ran through my brain as I walked out of the building, their sole purpose to shield my disappointment that Roger was nowhere to be found.

Or so I thought. I walked toward my car and there he was, leaning against the Porsche holding flowers in his hand. I worked hard to keep my emotions in check. I strolled up to my car, pretending to ignore him until I got really close, then I jumped on him and hugged him.

“So you're happy to see me?” he asked.

“I missed you. I missed you a lot.” He smiled at that.

“I missed you too. These are for you,” he said, handing me the flowers. Red Roses. The color of love.

“That's really sweet. You think if you give me flowers you may get lucky tonight?”

He snaughed, and I fought down the discomfort that gesture gave me. “Like you could resist me.”

“Get in the car,” I said.

“Where are we going?”

“I'm taking you home. The kids will want to see you. Besides, I want to see if JP and Sam managed to make up.” I told him about my intervention the night before.

“I thought you were going to show me your place?” he said.

“I'm selling it. I need the money. But this weekend, we will go to the beach.”

“You selling your house because of me and the winery?” he asked.

I paused to down shift the Porsche as I started the climb up to Escorial. “No, it's not that. I got myself overextended by not paying attention to details, so until we get our investment side in place all of the funding for existing projects falls on me. I've got it covered, but it's tight right now. It really has nothing to do with you.” He didn't entirely believe me, and it wasn't entirely true.

We got to Escorial and everyone was happy to see him. “We need to get cleaned up before dinner,” I said, and dragged Roger off to my room. I shut and locked the door, and then I was in his arms with his mouth on mine, his strong arms wrapped around my body, his large manhood pressing against mine. I moaned into his mouth. I led him into the shower and we shed our clothes while the water was getting warm. Before I knew what was happening he had dropped to his knees and taken me into his mouth, playing my tool with his mouth to perfection. I pulled him up to his feet and returned the favor, savoring his musky, male smell combined with sweat from a day's worth of work, the work of a real man.

We hopped into the shower and he let me soap his body, enjoying every crevice and corner, then he returned the favor. By the time he was done I was beside myself with frustration. When he entered me it was with a sense of relief. I felt him moving inside of me, heard him panting in my ear, the tempo increasing and increasing as he got closer until he brought us to mutual orgasm in a crescendo of moans.

We rinsed off and I was so happy I was positively giddy. “So you missed me?” I asked.

“Yeah, I missed you a lot. But I knew you'd be home and we'd have a blast, so I just focused on that. Gave me something to look forward to.” He was so calm and unruffled about stuff. Kind of like Jeff was. I'd have to stop these comparisons.

Dinner was a total blast. JP and Sam seemed to have worked things out, and the relief was apparent on everyone's face. Isidore had already chewed both of them out for their idiocy but it had done no good. I had just been the right person in the right place at the right time. We played with the kids. It was great to see them after a week and a half. Ace was growing like crazy. Was he going to hit puberty at 11? I giggled at that. Billy and Claire were more subdued, jealous of the fun their older siblings had.

After the kids went to bed, JP, Sam, Roger and I decided to go swimming. “I don't have a suit,” Roger said innocently.

“You will not need one. We do not wear them.” I giggled at his modesty. He stripped down in front of us and I watched JP's eyes bulge. Roger was really good looking, but when you throw in his body, he's just unbelievable. Sam and JP stared at him, and I saw Sam plump a little bit which made me smile. Still, there was something that was bothering them, and I knew what it was. It was the similarity to Jeff. Roger had a body that was as close to Jeff's as you could get without them being twins. I almost felt bad about JP and Sam having to deal with that, but it wasn't Roger's fault, and I really liked him. We just swam around in the pool, goofing around but not too much. Roger stuck to me and Sam stuck to JP. There was no cross-pollination.

Swimming got boring, or maybe it's because I just got horny, but we jumped out of the pool with raging hard ons. JP and Sam eyed Roger and he blushed. I giggled. But he was getting more relaxed around them, so he just shrugged it off. We got back to my room and he was on me before I knew it. I loved his passion and his enthusiasm. We made love with vigor, and after we were spent I just lay sprawled on top of him panting.

“So am I as good as your other boyfriends?” he asked. The question caught me off guard, because we hadn't talked about other people in our lives.

“Am I as good as your other partners?” I shot back.

“I don't have other partners,” he said. It dawned on me that this guy was really into me, and that he was pretty innocent to boot.

“You ever been with another guy before?” I asked. He grew uncomfortable.

“No.”

“How about a girl?” He looked surer of himself on this one.

“A few. What about you?”

“I am a sexual being Roger. I have been with lots of men and lots of women. I guess that makes me a slut.” I'd never felt guilty about that before, but facing his relative virginity, it kind of bothered me.

“I can see why,” he said playfully, changing the subject. “It would be a crime for you not to share your amazing body and your skills.”

I gave him my coquettish, teasing look. “So is that all I'm good for? A great fuck?”

“Not for me,” he said, and kissed me with some serious meaning behind it. His 22 year old body was charged and ready to go again, so we made love, but more slowly and tenderly this time. It was funny how that seemed to be a mere interlude to our conversation. As soon as we were done and our pulses had calmed, he returned to his original question.

“So I must not be as good as the other guys in your life or you would have told me that I was,” he said glumly.

I am not always the fastest on the uptake, but I realized that this was less about him wanting a commitment from me than about reassuring his male sexual ego. “You are an amazing lover Roger. Look at me, look in my eyes so you can see that I am telling you the truth.” He did, and he got a grin. “You are so full of raw energy, you can be like an unhinged animal sometimes and a tender lover at others, and everything you do makes my body quiver.” I thought about the next sentences carefully. “The reason I did not tell you that right away is that being ‘better’ is not easy to say. Everyone is different in bed. If I like having sex with someone, they are good, if I really like it, they are great, and if I think about them when I masturbate, they are amazing. I think about you when I jack off.” That got me a big smile and a big kiss.

April 3, 1973

The alarm went off and I slammed it with my fist. I would have kept sleeping if I didn't feel Roger's hands running all over my body as he gently entered me. “What a great way to wake up,” I said to him, and then shut up and let him work his magic. We showered together, ate breakfast together, and headed to work together.

“What are you doing tonight?” I asked.

“I've got a lot of work to do at the winery. I want to get it up to speed, and I figured that I could do some of the work myself and save some money.”

“Is that during the day or at night too?” I asked.

“During the day,” he said. He knew what I wanted, but he was going to make me ask him. I didn't blame him.

“If you are not too tired, it would be really nice if you could spend the evening with me,” I said, throwing out the invitation.

“You asking me to spend the night tonight?” he queried.

“Actually, I'm asking you to spend the week with me. I'm going to be home until I head to LA the weekend after next. Come stay with me until then.”

“I'd probably cramp your style,” he said. “I wouldn't want to impose on JP and his family.”

“You are not cramping my style, I invited you. And JP likes you, so do the kids. I like being with you Roger. You are fun to be around, and you really turn me on. Stay with me, satisfy me. Come on baby. Please?” I whined and it worked.

“OK. I'll bring some clothes up with me tonight.” I kissed him in the car before we went into the office, and I marveled at how nice it was to be able to kiss my boyfriend in public. I couldn't do that with Peter.

Work was more of the same, trying to juggle money around to make it last, arguing with the securities people to get our firm approved and our first deal set up, and keeping everyone's morale stoked up. I was exhausted by the time I got home, but seeing Roger's beat up old truck there was enough to put a smile on my face. He was in my room waiting for me, still fully clothed, but that didn't last long.

He made love to me, this time with his animalistic energy that just set me free. I noticed that he was trying different things, different ways of fucking me, trying to experiment to find new ways to maximize my pleasure. That was really sweet.

“You are one amazing lover,” I said to him when we were done. He blushed. “You are so considerate. So many people are in it for themselves only, but not you. You always do whatever it takes to satisfy me.” After dinner, he showed me a few more moves, all good, all satisfying. What a hunk this guy was.

April 6, 1973

I planned to leave work early today but had been delayed by a call from Peter. He'd managed to seriously irritate me, although I think I'd done a really good job of hiding it. He was pissed off that I wasn't coming down this weekend, even though it had been two weeks since I'd last been there. I'd made up some excuses, and he offered to come up. I put him off by hyping what a good time we'd have next weekend, and he finally seemed to come around. At the end of the conversation I felt like I was being pressured, like I'd become one of his possessions, and that would never do.

Roger, on the other hand, had been with me all week and I thrived on his company. He was laid back, calm, unruffled. He didn't talk much to other people, but he'd chat with me with a verbosity that flattered me. He was like a balm, someone I could fall into for strength and comfort, who could recharge me, and who could satisfy me sexually. When he was around, I was happy. I didn't need anyone else. It dawned on me that I'd thought the same thing about Peter. Maybe the trick here was to just enjoy the day, the moment, and not plan beyond that. Keep my options open.

Roger was waiting for me at Escorial. Seeing him put a smile on my face. We packed up the Porsche with all of our clothes and stuff, and then had dinner with everyone. There was no real rush to head to the coast, especially since the traffic would be deadly on Friday evening. Besides, dinner was nice. Brad wanted to go with us, and so did Ace and the other kids, but JP diplomatically put them off. He said they might come down for the day on Saturday, which would be a blast. I'd taken Monday off, much to Jason's chagrin. He had a tendency to panic under pressure.

The drive was fun as always, even though it was dark. It was hard to really appreciate JP's beach house at night, other than the nicely appointed interior that Isidore had crafted. But the weather wasn't too cold, so we went for a walk on the beach. The sound of the surf and the hum of the wind were so soothing, but it was the moonlight that bathed the phosphorescent waves that made it truly beautiful. We laid a blanket down on the beach and made out, rubbing our bodies together until we climaxed in rhythm to the sound of the surf. It was magical.

The next day saw a lazy morning soon interrupted by the entire family. I think Roger was a little nervous about that, but once he saw the place in the daytime and understood how much room there was and how much there was to do, he relaxed and went with it. JP had bought this place because the ocean had soothed his nerves and helped him relax, and he was right. By the afternoon any tension I'd brought with me had been blown away. Saturday night was a blast, with a bonfire on the beach. Whenever I was around, Brad was practically glued to me, which was cute. We had bonded on our trip.

And then on Sunday morning it was calm again as the whole brood left, and Roger and I once again had the house all to ourselves. It was a golden interlude, and I found that Roger's willingness to experiment and my totally relaxed mode made for some mind-blowing sex. It was Sunday evening when we were lying in bed, worn out from a day of exertion, that I broached an issue we'd passed on earlier.

“When we first met you said you were uncomfortable with me because I was gay. You do not seem to be that bothered by it now,” I joked. I was trying to keep the mood light, but he tensed up. A lot.

“I just like being with you. Does that mean I'm gay?” he responded defensively.

“I'm not attacking you or accusing you Roger; it's just that any guy who is as great a lover as you are must be at least partly gay. Can you see how that might confuse me after our initial meeting?”

“I don't want to be with other guys, I don't think about other guys. You're the only guy I think about.”

“You've never even fantasized about another guy in the past? When you were jacking off?”

“I didn't say that,” he snapped.

“You are acting like I am attacking you. I am on your side. What is between us is between us. You can trust me.” And that was it. I realized that he wasn't really willing to totally let his guard down with me, to reveal his whole self. Was I willing to trust him with all of my secrets, tell him about my past as a rent boy, about my relationships? Probably. But he wasn't.

The silence in the room was deafening. I had to say something. “Roger, I'm hoping that someday you will trust me enough to really open up to me. In the mean time, I'm just going to enjoy what you're willing to share.” I felt him relax, and I snuggled up to his soft warm body and drifted off to sleep.

April 13, 1973

Friday the 13th, not the most auspicious day for travel, but a commitment was a commitment, and I was on my way back to LAX. Peter sounded excited to see me, and I was excited to see him. Roger was fun, but his unwillingness to be open about his sexuality was starting to irritate me. Was it asking too much to want a guy who is fucking you to tell you if he's gay?

Josh wasn't at the airport to greet me, which surprised me. Instead there was a new guy, a blond. “I'm Vance,” he said with a pronounced lisp as he shook my hand. Shaking his hand was like squeezing wet noodles. I didn't like this guy at all.

“Nice to meet you Vance. Where's Josh?”

He rolled his eyes at me in a condescending manner. “Josh doesn't work for Mr. Gordon anymore. I'm not sure where he is.” I digested this news as we drove up to Peter's house.

Peter was there to greet me warmly. “Good to see you!” he said. He pulled me into his room and we made love passionately. He had so much more expertise than Roger, but he lacked his passion and drive. Peter was smooth, Roger was raw. Right now I didn't really like either one of them.

“So where's Josh?” I asked.

“You said he was going to work for you, so I hired a new driver,” he said calmly.

“I did not hire him yet Peter, I just told you I was planning on it.” I knew I sounded irritated, and I was.

“I'm sorry Stefan, I have to plan ahead. Vance became available and it seemed smart to snap him up. You can't expect me to just wait around until you actually get around to stealing Josh away?” He was being petulant. This was about to devolve into a really nasty argument. I swallowed my pride.

“I understand. You know where I can find him though?” I turned on the charm so he wouldn't feel threatened.

He gave me a phone number for Josh, which I filed away in my wallet. Vance came in after a while, stark naked. He looked like a little boy. He was so not my type. He was feminine, both with his actions, his movements, and his communication, and he was bitchy and presumptive.

“Mind if I join you?” he said as if he expected it to be OK.

“Not at all,” said Peter.

“You two enjoy yourselves,” I said, jumping out of bed. “I've got a few phone calls to make.”

The first call was to Jackie to let her know I was in town. The inner bitch came out in me, and I did something nasty. “Have you met Peter's new driver?” I asked.

“No I haven't. Is he a little boy slut like the others?” She was too funny.

“This one is so effeminate he could almost be a girl. Peter spends any time with him and you will not have to worry about protecting his reputation. He will not have one.”

“Hmmm. Thanks Stefan. That's helpful. I'll have to meet this boy for myself.” And with that she hung up. That should take care of Vance.

The next call was to Josh. “Hey,” he said, answering the phone in a somber way.

“Josh? It's Stefan. Where are you?”

“Hey Stef. I'm staying at a dirt bag motel in Hollywood. I didn't want to spend all my money so after Peter tossed me out I came here. It's cheap, and hopefully I'll be able to get a new job soon.”

“I thought you were going to work for me?”

“Peter said you'd changed your mind, and that there was no point in bothering you,” he said. I was livid now. Really pissed. What kind of games was Peter playing? Did he just use people like pawns?

“That is not the case at all. I will tell you what, I'm leaving here now, and I will pick you up.” I grabbed the keys to Peter's Aston Martin, tossed my bag in the trunk, and headed down to pick up Josh.

The motel Josh was staying in was a pit, and the neighborhood was scary. He was waiting for me with his stuff and he jumped in quickly while I tore out of there. “I'm sorry about that Josh. I did not tell Peter that I did not want you working for me. In fact, our plans are moving right along.”

“He gets pissed when people cross him, or are disloyal,” he said.

“Apparently. Well, I'm taking you back to the Bay area with me, and then when we're ready to make our move, we will come back down here and make our splash, OK?”

“You have room for me?” he asked.

I laughed. “Yeah, there's lots of room.” Then I stopped for a minute to think, and I actually stopped the car as well.

“What's wrong?” asked Josh.

“I'm thinking that if I do not assert my authority over Peter now, we will not have the entree we will need to market our programs.” I recognized the warning signs as I said that, the evil Stefan that lurked deep in my soul, the evil Stefan who had eked out a living selling his body in Paris. The Stefan that didn't give a shit about anyone else. Peter had really pissed me off, and that person had come out.

I headed back to Peter's house and got back before he realized I had even left. Vance came bouncing out of his room, stark naked, with cum dripping out of his ass and running down his leg. He eyed me arrogantly and said “Oh, you're back.”

Peter came out shortly after that and saw Josh. “What the fuck is he doing here?” he demanded. I grabbed his hand and pulled him into his bedroom.

“I'm giving Josh his old job back until I need him. Vance is fired. You can give him his severance and send him packing. Josh can drop him off wherever he needs to go.”

Peter got irate. “You don't tell me what to do. You don't run my life. We're lovers, not partners.”

“You will never raise your voice to me again. I run your life. I run your house. I tell you who you can fire and hire, and if you're lucky, I will not interfere with who you fuck. You cross me, and your career is over.”

He stared at me, stunned. “I thought you loved me. You wouldn't do that to me.”

“Do not test me. I came down here to see you and you've been trying to piss me off since I got here. You hired that little bitch and told him to treat me like shit, and then you kicked me out of bed to fuck him. On top of that, you fired Josh just to piss me off. Well it worked. And unfortunately for you, I'm a dangerous person to piss off.”

“You're not dangerous. Jackie's dangerous. Wait until I get in touch with her. She'll run you out of town like a two-bit whore.”

“Call her. I already did. She's the only one who can save you from my wrath, and she will do that by making you do exactly what I say.” He eyed me with a dull fury. But I won.

He stormed into the living room, still naked. “Vance, I have to let you go. You can tell Josh where you want to go and he'll take you there.” He wrote out a generous check and handed it to Vance, then stormed back into his room.

“You might want to wipe the cum off your leg and put some clothes on first. And I do not ever want to see you again. Ever. Leave LA.” I said to him maliciously. Josh had a twinkle in his eye. Vance put his hands on his hips and headed to Josh's room to get his stuff together.

“If you take him to the airport, make sure he has a ticket to wherever he wants to go.” I handed Josh some cash and headed into Peter's room. He was in the shower. I joined him.

“I don't want company.”

“Yes you do,” I cooed into his ear. “You're mad at me, but you still want me.” I soaped my hands and moved them down his back to his ass. He tensed up when I got to his hole. “Peter, let me in. Show me that you still love me,” I whispered. He relaxed and I worked him open then entered him. I could tell he was uncomfortable at first, but he got over that soon enough. In no time at all he was shooting against the shower wall while I filled his ass up.

I helped him dry off and led him back to bed. “I can't believe you're being so mean to me,” he whined.

“I'm not being mean to you Peter; I'm just stopping you from hurting me, and yourself. You need some stability in your life, and I'm going to help you with that.”

“What if I don't want you to help me? What if I meet someone else?”

“If that happens, and I approve, then I will move out of the picture. Until then, you are mine. All mine. And I intend to make you very happy.”

“How are you going to do that?” he said.

“Like this,” I responded, and moved on top of him and lowered myself onto his hardening pole. He moaned as he entered me, and I forced the connection between us, bringing us close to climax, then backing off, then close, and then finally bringing us off together. It was surreal like it used to be; only this time the connection wasn't mutual, I forced it on him, but it seemed to get him off even more that way.

From now on, my relationship with Peter was no longer romantic. It was all about business.

April 14, 1973

Peter had been invited to a party at the house of some Hollywood producer, and I decided that we should go. After last night, he seemed totally comfortable with me taking over and planning everything. My respect for him continued to plummet.

There was a big crowd there. One of the first people I ran into was Jackie. I told her everything that happened with Peter. “You're good babe,” she said. “Just remember who's in charge here.”

“You got it boss,” I said and she smiled and wandered off. I managed to ditch Peter and roamed around the party until I bumped into John Bartlett.

“Hey Stefan, how you doing?” he asked with his sultry voice.

“Great to see you!” I said with a wink. “What are you up to?”

“I'm heading upstairs to meet a few people. Want to join me?”

“Absolutely,” I said. We headed down a long hallway to a room at the end. John knocked three times and the door opened a crack. An eye saw John and opened the door to let him in. I followed him in. “He's with me,” John said simply.

There, in front of me, were a bunch of Hollywood's hottest guys stark naked, having an orgy. I'd never done an orgy before, but shit, this would be fun. John and I tossed our clothes off and in no time at all I was in the middle of the pack. I felt John push his dick into me while I was doing the same to some other guy. He turned around and looked at me and it was Mr. Brady, from the Brady Bunch. It seemed that everywhere I turned there was an ass to grab, a dick to suck, a mouth to kiss. It was intense, amazing, and incredibly erotic. I finally blew my load down someone's throat, and took a few in my ass. Spent, I got my clothes back on and headed back to the party. John was leaving at the same time I was.

“You are always welcome at one of our parties,” he said. “Call me when you're in town. You were the life of the party.” He squeezed my ass and vanished into the crowd.

I finally found Peter chatting with a director. “I was looking all over for you,” he said.

“I was just socializing,” I said. “You ready to go home?”

He nodded and we headed back to his place and had sex. It was good, but it wasn't great. The next morning I was glad to be on the flight back to San Jose.

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

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Peter is too wishy washy for anyone especially someone like Stef. I am not sure how Roger is going to work out at least at this point. You could already tell there was drama ahead there.

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It's sad that fame has turned Peter into such a wuss, he was such a great character. Stef's inner bitch may seem cold, but it's not as malicious as he thinks it is, his bitch has always been about survival and now is no different, just different stakes. The work kicks ass, thanks.

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On 10/23/2013 at 3:43 PM, Miles Long said:

It's sad that fame has turned Peter into such a wuss, he was such a great character. 

Fame didn't turn Peter into a wuss, he was always a wuss. That is how he got into trouble in Princeton with what's his face.

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