Chapter Five: The Bigger Deal
A week went by before Rich heard from or about the Butlers again. He had a week to get into the groove of going to college; starting up the sailing season, including setting up new understandings with Hunter and Julio--no messing around with Rich involved while they were at college--and mastering Professor Coleman in a new way, Blake Coleman having let Rich know that he liked how Rich had done him in his office.
There was a concert on for that weekend--a men's choir from the university, with Coleman conducting and Rich accompanying on a grand piano. It was well attended, including, Rich didn't find out until after the last Amen, by Alma Butler, who appeared at the side of the piano on stage while Rich was gathering up sheet music; greeted him like they were the best of friends who regularly met, which raised Coleman's eyebrows as he was gushed over by a couple of music patrons while he was trying to overhear his assistant's conversation with Alma, and said she had driven up to deliver a new car to Hunter. "He wanted a new Mustang," she said.
Why, of course he did, Rich thought. Although it had been Julio who he'd heard talking about wanting Hunter to get a new Mustang.
"I'll need a ride back to Boston tomorrow," she said, wiggling her false eyelashes at Rich. "Hunter can't do it." She looked at Rich expectantly. "You don't have your next class until Tuesday." And when he looked at her quizzically, she said, "Hunter told me what your schedule would be."
"I'm not sure I--"
"Howard wants to see you at one of his Boston clubs. He said you would come when he said he wanted you to."
That was different. Rich had been thinking ahead to the next year and Julliard all week. Howard was his ticket to that dream.
"He also said you would be at my beck and call too, as long as I didn't interfere with your school or sports schedule."
"Of course I am," Rich answered, with a smile of surrender. He put a hand on her hip to assure her that he knew all that that entailed and she gave a little shudder and smiled back.
"I thought we'd go to dinner this evening," she continued, apparently taking for granted that invoking Howard's call for Rich's presence was definitive, which it was.
"I'm not sure. Reservations are pretty tight on a Friday night," Rich said. He was looking at Blake Coleman, who was giving him the evil eye. He had an after-concert "do" on at his house and expected Rich to be there.
"We have dinner reservations at the Hanover Inn right here on the campus," Alma said. "It's where I'm staying tonight."
Well, of course it is, Rich thought.
He must have had Sonny Taggert and the position he'd used to fuck Susan with on his mind during the week, because that's how he fucked Alma that night in her room at the Hanover Inn. It wasn't the contrast in size and muscles that it was with Sonny and Susan, and after a while Rich had to admire how steady as a rock Sonny had maintained his three-point stance. He and Susan had fucked in that position longer than Alma and Rich managed. But Alma gave a smile and a low moan and nestled up under Rich on the bed when he came over her when she was on her back, his knees on either side of her chest. She raised her face to his crotch, took him inside her mouth, and gave him expert head.
When he was engorged it was just a short readjustment, scooting his knees down to outside her thighs and burying one hand in the mattress by her shoulder to be in position. She must have taken this stance before because she easily went into position, lifting her knees to his hips, and groaning as he encircled her waist, pulled her pelvis up to his crotch, penetrated her, and started to pump.
She was thinner and lighter--in model trim--than Susan was, which compensated a bit for Rich not being as big and bulky as Taggert was. She went right into position, sheathed him without any trouble, and quickly settled into the rhythm of the fuck. Rich briefly entertained the thought that maybe she'd been done by Sonny Taggert too, but he put that out of his mind, as nothing he should care about, and he did his duty with her, staying the night and fucking her in more conventional positions at periodic intervals. He left her purring, as he drifted off to sleep, trusting she'd report to Howard that Rich had satisfied her as Howard told him he was to do on demand.
She had him there at checkout the next morning like he was some sort of footman there to carry her luggage. The reception desk clerks surely knew how she had used him, but she was regal and "rich bitch" enough to pull it off.
Rich knew that Blake Coleman would be livid that Rich not only had missed the after-concert party but wasn't in his bed that night--and probably wouldn't be until the next Tuesday. Rich called to tell him he'd be out of town until then, but he had to leave a voicemail. Coleman didn't pick up.
* * * *
"I want to broaden our deal."
"Oh? How so?" Rich asked. He was sitting in Howard Butler's office at a club he owned on Tremont Street, in the South End district of Boston. Most of Boston's gay scene had fled the city for Providence, Rhode Island, years earlier, but some remnants of it remained here in the South End. Butler was trying to bring it back. The Berkeleynotsquare club was a partial move in that direction. It was a male stripper Chippendales type show venue that was dedicated to women patrons on the weekends and men on the weekdays. Although there were male strippers who worked only one or the other of those periods, Butler was interested in hiring bisexual hunks who would cover both--and who would cover paying patrons as well as dance for them. The club was a full-service venue. You could come and take in the show and drink to your heart's content. For big bucks you could also get a male dancer to get you off by your choice of method, whatever gender you were.
Rich had driven Alma from New Hampshire back down to Boston in his aging 2008 red Volkswagen Eos Komfort convertible.
"This was a nice car once," she said, "but it looks like you have a lot of miles on it and a good bit of wear and tear."
"It's a 2008," he answered. "I've enjoyed it, but it's on its last legs. I guess it's just as well I'm moving back to New York City for school. I can move around there without a car."
"But you'd like to have wheels, wouldn't you? You'll have to be coming to Boston now regularly, you know."
"Yes, I know," Rich answered. And, indeed, he was well aware of the belled collar the Butlers had put on him.
"Hunter has no use for his old car now that we've gotten him a new one. It's a 2014 Mustang. A convertible just like this. Still in very nice condition."
"Yes, I know. I've been in it," he answered. The backseat had been a little tight for fucking, but he saw no need to mention that to Hunter's mother.
"You can have that car."
"For how much?"
"You can have the car."
