Chapter Two: Later Saturday
Lunch was served on a long table on the broad porch at the back of the house overlooking Gloucester's outer harbor, the town itself rising from the shore beyond the inner harbor on the other side of the stretch of water. The sailboat the young men were going to take out later--practicing collegiate sailing being the reason they were here this weekend--rocked gently at the dock beyond the slab of smooth rock running down to the shoreline. Most of those present for the weekend were paired off on wicker settees at the other end of the porch, waiting for Eva, the housekeeper, to finish setting the table and bringing out the food.
Diego was still out in the backyard, clipping hedges back into shape, dancing bare-chested in front of the hedge, being watched by those on the porch, each with his or her own thoughts about the sensuality of the young man's movements, and more rather than fewer of them fantasizing on his sexuality and of his suitability as a sex partner. More than one of them had answered that question, uniformly in the positive.
Rich and Susan were sitting close together on one sofa. Rich's arm was around Susan's shoulders, and her fingers were tracing little patterns on his bare leg below the hem of his shorts. Hunter and Julio were on another sofa in similar pose, with Hunter touching Julio here and there short of what he'd really like to be fondling and the two of them just inches and a bit of social propriety from kissing. Julio was a hot Latin hunk exuding sexuality and masculinity. Hunter was long and lean and sensual, better looking and more steeped in "take advantage of me" sexuality in every way than his sister, Susan was. This was a reality that had never been lost on Susan--or anyone else who had known them. Julio had known them both biblically. So had Rich. Julio had obviously made his choice. Rich had made his too, for practical reasons, but as they sat there on the porch and Rich let the fingers of the arm he had draped around Susan's shoulders play on the young woman's bicep, his eyes moved from Diego, who he had had, to Hunter, who he'd also had.
Sitting on a wicker armchair, facing the two couples, the family patriarch, Howard Butler, massive, glowering, heavy of body but obviously charismatic and powerful, and still ruggedly handsome despite his girth, was taking it all in, from those on the porch to Diego, dancing at the hedge, his keen assessing eyes adding it all up. As Howard's thoughts settled, he let his eyes settle on Rich. It was obvious to Howard that Rich's tastes were universal. It also was obvious to him that Rich preferred Hunter but had settled on Susan--and why this was so. From seeing both Susan's and Hunter's regard of Rich, he assumed that Rich was a masterful lover, and that interested Howard as well. But he wondered if Rich could take a cock as well as he could give one. His assessment dismissed Julio altogether. He was all unadvantaged gigolo, a nobody, all surface take for calculated personal advantage, capable of loving only himself. But Rich was different, he was operating out of calculation too, but he wasn't using sex just to gain advantage. Most important, after his physical beauty and sexuality, he was socially advantaged. Rich obviously was a passionate young man. He would fuck for the sheer joy of the sex. Could he be fucked with the same passion, though, was what Howard was wondering.
He saw Rich's eyes go to Diego, out on the lawn, and the revelation hit Howard that Rich had already fucked Diego. This amused Howard and gave him added appreciation of Rich as a sexual animal. It also confirmed Howard's assessment of Rich putting passion ahead of profit, in contrast to Julio. Diego could give Rich nothing but a good ride, and Howard well knew how good of a ride the Hispanic gardener could give.
The chatting was light and amusing, but there wasn't a single person on the porch who wasn't aware of the sizzling undercurrent of cross relationships and sexual assessment charging them all. That bubble was burst when Alma Butler came out onto the porch with a tray laden down with drinks, and said, in a sing-song voice, "We have lemonade, iced tea, and water. Take your--"
She didn't complete her sentence as her gaze had swept the assembled guests and had been as quick at assessments as anyone else had been. There were no surprises at seeing Howard's glittering and slit eyes, his tongue licking his lower lip, and the half smile on his face. She had been married to him for over twenty years and knew how she had wrested him away from the wife before her. Alma knew that Howard's lusts were universal that that he'd fuck anyone he could put under him. She knew why the Hispanic gardener, Diego, was employed and encouraged to roam the grounds half dressed. She'd tried seducing Diego herself, but having been unsuccessful, knew that Howard was fucking him. She knew that Howard fucked the black housekeeper, Eva. She knew that Howard would fuck Richard VonClief if he could manage to do it. She knew that Howard had no interest in Julio, even though she herself did. A man's social position was no concern of hers as long as he had an eight-inch cock and could keep it hard. She'd already had Rich this weekend and would be under Julio if the circumstance permitted, although she was wary of that one. She didn't really care anymore who Howard fucked as long as it wasn't her. She'd done her duty by him and he'd always been too thick for her comfort.
But in seeing Julio and Hunter on their sofa she was a bit surprised. She hadn't considered that Julio was humping Hunter, but it was obvious in seeing them that he did. She hadn't given Hunter's proclivities much thought. He wasn't manly enough for her to be interested and he wasn't her son--he was from Howard's just-previous wife. She didn't care much what he did or who he did it with. He wasn't to her taste. Handsome but callow. No substance to him beyond the glitter on the surface. No eight-inch cock.
Those assessments flashed by in less than a nanosecond, because it was the shock of seeing her daughter, Susan, and Rich together--obviously together--that sent a jolt through her. She set the tray down on a coffee table so hard that the glasses rattled and the liquid sloshed over the rims. Then she turned and was gone, back into the house.
A few minutes later, Eva came out of the house and said, "Lunch is ready now. Ya'all can come to the table."
Howard tore his gaze from Rich, stood and turned, and asked Eva, "Should we wait for Alma to come out?"
"She's not coming out," Eva answered, stone-faced. "She took on a migraine, she said, and asked to be excused from the table. She's taking her lunch upstairs."
The surface, amused chatter continued through lunch, with Hunter and Julio giving a volley-by-volley accounting of their tennis match that morning. Both were expert players. The discussion had moved on from there to the impending pro football year. Howard owned a slice of the New England Patriots and had brought to the table a proof of a roster program for the coming year's team, which he passed around. Susan went dreamy over the pictures of the studs and honed in on a six-foot-five, claimed three-hundred-pound bruiser of a guard, with a long golden mane, named Sonny Taggert.
"Three hundred pounds and he doesn't look a bit fat, Daddy," she said breathlessly. "Look at his waist. I bet he has great abs. Yum."
"Muscle is weighty, Sugar," Howard answered. "And you've got to have muscle to be a guard in professional football. His height helps distribute it. I'm not wild about the Samson hair, though."
"I am," Susan said. "Here, see what I'm looking at." She waved the program page under Rich's nose. "You could let your hair grow like this. Yours is even more golden than this guy's."
"Too long for me too," Rich said, as he took the program from her. Looking at Taggert's photo, Rich claimed the man did nothing for him, but his eyes went to Howard, who was well into the two-hundred-pound range himself and over six foot, and as bulky as a pro footballer guard, if not all in muscle. The young man was lying. The football player did get a rise from him. Something told him when he looked up at Howard that the man knew that--that he knew that Rich's sexual interests were universal. He wondered if Howard's were as well. He was a heavy man, but there was a sexual rawness about him. There was no question that Howard Butler had charisma and a commanding presence. And he had the aura of confidence and command about him that signaled that he was proudly hung.
