Spar & Stone -

Chapter One - Family-Friendly

"Face it, Heathcliff. It's a good deal," the man hurried to place the open folder under his nose and then began patting his forehead with a pristine white handkerchief.

The guy was probably holding that close just because he sweated profusely regardless of weather and the conditioned air blasted through the hidden ceiling fans.

Heathcliff balanced the pen in his hand. Should he really sign? He had his freedom to consider. And what was with all this bullcrap about a 'family-friendly image'? But the money was good, and he knew well that private lessons, no matter how overpriced, and social media followers, could not bring him where he wanted to be. His body, admired by millions, came with high maintenance. In other words, money.

So, yes, it was a good deal. He clicked the pen a few times, before writing down his name slowly, in calligraphic letters. The man watched him from the side, perched on his toes, like a bald eagle waiting for a meal.

"Done," he slammed the pen flat on top of the document.

"And the NDA," the man hurried to push the pen away and fished another document from the bottom.

Heathcliff frowned.

"What is this all about?" he asked, feeling irritated with the guy's insistence.

"They want you to maintain a certain image ..." the man trailed off.

"Family-friendly," Heathcliff said, pursing his lips.

He took the piece of paper, trying to make sense of the legalese dancing on the page. There had to be a place in hell for lawyers. Or, otherwise, divinity could not be possible.

"So, what do they want, exactly?" he demanded to know.

He had an idea what they wanted. But he wanted to hear it, loud and clear, from the man sweating through all his pores next to him. For the percentage the man took with both grabby hands, Heathcliff could feel no inclination to humor or pity him.

"Well?" he quirked an eyebrow.

"Well," the man repeated after him. "It would serve if you, ahem, kept your ... um, encounters, more out of the public eye?" the guy ended with a question mark.

Heathcliff shook his head.

"So do they have a problem with my sexuality?" he linked his fingers and placed his hands neatly in front of him.

After precisely two studied seconds, he turned to look the man in the eye.

"No, no," the man waved both his plump hands, "not at all. Only that ... the notoriety ... also the nature of some, ahem, encounters of the kind ..."

"Come on, Harry," Heathcliff smiled as he would have for a toothpaste ad, "this bad boy image draws followers by the ton."

For this particular occasion, Heathcliff had opted for a more conservative looking suit, and he knew that his body looked good wearing anything. His short blond beard had been trimmed to perfection. He had expected to meet someone from the company directly, but instead, his agent was playing the errand boy part. So, something had to give, and he wanted to know what.

"Yes, yes, that's true," his agent nodded enthusiastically. "But the company has a certain image to care for, as well. Come on, Heathcliff, you know you need this deal. This is how this business works. Your two million followers on social media mean nothing if you don't monetize your fanbase. Everybody does it," the man hurried to say.

Tell me about it, Heathcliff thought with an internal sigh. He was getting tired of marketing himself with no tangible results, except for a few celebrities willing to pay him a grand a day for the opportunity to train their over-tanned tushies to exhaustion. He was making good money, but not by far as much as he wanted to make.

The deal was good, indeed, and the sweaty piggy bidding his time to rub his hands next to him was right, he thought for the umpteenth time since he had entered the room. Only that it came at a damn price.

"So am I supposed to keep from sex? Take a celibacy vow?" Heathcliff pressed the matter, partly because he wanted to see the other squirm a little more. "Live like a monk?"

"Oh, no," the man waved again. "But, you know, maybe if you kept your ... dealings a bit away from the tabloids' spotlight ..."

"All right," Heathcliff exhaled and rubbed his chin in thought. "Now, is there anything else in this NDA that I should know about?"

"Well, for starters, you should not tell anyone of its existence ... since it's an NDA, after all, he, he. They would not like people to think that, ahem ..."

"They have something against a gay guy who's not already married with children," Heathcliff completed the stunted phrase his agent was trying to get out of his mouth.

"If you were, that would have made things a lot easier," the man joked, attempting a smile, and then deciding against it when Heathcliff set his piercing gaze on him.

Piercing blue eyes. A standard phrase tabloids loved to use when talking about him. Well, he hoped his eyes were piercing enough when he bore them into his helpless agent.

"Oh, so it's okay to be gay as long as you're a hetero-normative kind of gay," Heathcliff enunciated every word, to make sure that the other understood the message.

"Well," the man shifted from one foot to the other. "I would not put it this way ..."

"I would," Heathcliff interrupted him. "You know, I have a feeling that all this gay marriage stuff is somewhat working against a gay way of life. You know, it's not called the alternative lifestyle just because it sounds nice. It's about freedom," he began preaching, knowing well he was making the other uncomfortable like hell. "Freedom to have as many sex partners as you want without having imaginary regrets about not conforming to monogamy. Freedom to experiment. To live life to the fullest," he opened his arms wide.

"I don't disagree," the man hurried.

"I'm afraid that straight people agree with gay marriage just because they want to see us struggling to live by the same hypocritical and impossible standards that they have been carrying as a tight collar around their necks since the beginning of civilization," he added, fighting a smile.

"Yes, I see ..." Harry began to fidget even more.

Heathcliff laughed and patted the man's back. His agent sighed and relaxed a little.

"Come on, man, I'm just joking here. So, as long as I don't make the tabloids' headlines while selling these guys' protein shakes, we're good, right?"

"Yes," his agent exhaled, suddenly relieved.

"All right, let me sign the damn NDA, and be over with it," Heathcliff took the pen and scribbled down his name on the second document.

"Ah, wait," Harry said. "There is something else."

"What?" Heathcliff turned toward the man.

His irritation was starting to rear its head again.

"It's in the NDA," the agent said, somewhat reluctantly. "They will send someone to, ahem, assist you and, keep an eye on you?" the man added with a question mark and a purse of his lips, his head dipped into his shoulders, like he was waiting for something heavy to fall on his head.

"Keep an eye on me?" Heathcliff said slowly, adding the same question mark.

What could be the punishment for strangling his agent in a fit of annoyance? Harry was doing his best, though. But a babysitter?

"Yes," Harry said apologetically. "Not all the time, mind you, and he will not interfere with your life, in general. But he will help you with photo shoots, ads, everything pertaining to campaigns and the like. Also, he'll make sure that, ahem, the people you will choose to ... entertain with won't talk to tabloids."

"What?!" Heathcliff exclaimed. "What the hell are these people? Gangsters? What the hell do you mean by that? Family-friendly my ass! What's the name of that kind of family? The Sopranos?"

"No, no, no!" Harry hurried to appease him. "Nothing like that. He will just have your partners sign NDAs. No gangsters!" the man set his hands flat and upright to prove the solemnity of his words.

"Hmm," Heathcliff's eyes narrowed when he looked at the other. "Are you sure? Because if I see some Fat Tony knocking down my door just to check where my dick has been, we're going to have a problem. Capisci?" he could not stop from joking.

Harry laughed this time. The man was way too tense. Maybe it was not a good idea to play with the guy's blood pressure.

"Harry, you should look over the diet plan I sent you," he pointed the finger at the guy.

"I did, I did," the man said quickly, averting his eyes.

Heathcliff sighed. He could understand the man. Keeping up with a diet and an exercise regimen wasn't easy. That was why he chose to unwind by hooking up with the hottest guys he could get his hands on. Letting go of his only hobby was not precisely how he wanted to make a breach in the industry and start making some real money.

He wasn't a man all up for wretched excess, but he liked his sexual encounters to be unrestricted if he were to choose a term to describe them. Therefore the idea of having some middle-aged straight man, most probably married for 12 years and with zero sex life, look over his shoulder and shake his head in disapproval was most unpalatable.

"I'm glad you signed, Heathcliff," his agent chose to change the subject.

"Okay. But I will not give up on sex," he stared at the guy, keeping the signed documents under his palm, not allowing Harry to grab them just yet.

"No, no, that will be absurd," the man said.

"Here you go then," Heathcliff took the signed papers and handed them gallantly to his agent. "So when should I meet or expect this babysitter?"

"Oh, he will drop by your place sometime over the next few days if that is fine by you. I will give him your number so he can call you and announce his visit in advance."

"Sure thing. Feel free to send him my schedule, too. This way, I think he'll quickly find a way to bother me when I'm not supposed to be bothered," he made another joke.

"I will communicate him all the details," Harry said. "Thank you for this, Heathcliff. We're making headway, I'm telling you. Endorsements, deals, they'll start to pour now. So, you know, let's just make it happen and keep these people happy," the man put the signed documents into his suitcase.

"Of course," Heathcliff smiled.

Well, it was a good deal, and that should have been enough incentive to keep his sexual trysts a bit away from the hot lights for now. After all, he was interested in getting pleasure out of them, and not publicity. Especially now, when that could count as bad and unwanted publicity.

***

Aidan Spark waited patiently as the phone rang. From the starters, he knew that was going to be difficult. For more reasons than one. But, to begin with the obvious, the man wasn't picking up.

Three times, four times, five times ... For lack of anything to do, he took a look at himself in the mirror. Squinting, he brushed some invisible lint off his lapel. With slow, meticulous moves, he straightened up his tie and slicked back his hair a bit more. Appearance was crucial, and that was something he knew well. Just the same it was for the guy he was trying right now to contact.

It was the umpteenth time he was trying to reach Heathcliff Stone, without any success. He wondered whether the man was doing it on purpose. By all means, he seemed plenty active on his social media, so nothing was supposed to prevent the guy from picking up the phone.

Of course, he could try other channels than phoning the guy, but Aidan had been informed that he was to schedule the meeting in this manner, and he always did things by the book.

"Quite the insistent man you are," the man finally answered and started talking directly, without even bothering to say the standard greetings required by the circumstances.

"Hello, Mr. Stone," Aidan began, using his usual professional tone. "I am Aidan Spark, with The Healthy Shakers."

"You sound young," the man interrupted him.

"I am calling to schedule our first meeting," Aidan ignored the rude statement.

What being young had to do with anything? Aidan wanted to sigh, but he knew he had to keep his cool. Having to deal with the handsome, drool-worthy, sexy fitness guru Heathcliff Stone, was enough torment on its own.

"Come by, if you insist so much," Heathcliff said. "I'm sure you know the address."

"I would like to establish a day and an hour. Something that is convenient for you."

"It's Saturday. Come over."

And just like that, the man cut the conversation, leaving Aidan to stare at the phone screen with a frown. Of course, the man had to be an insufferable ass. Good looking people tended to be like that. It was no surprise that Heathcliff Stone was no exception to the rule.

What was he going to do? It was already two o'clock in the afternoon. A meeting over drinks was out of the question. Too early. Maybe just send a text with a dinner invitation? It was unlikely that a famous man like Heathcliff Stone wasn't already booked.

It was unorthodox, but Aidan was decided not to let this guy weasel his way out of the deal he had struck with The Healthy Shakers. So he was going to pay the man a visit, and he was going to do it right away.

***

"Hey, that's not exactly nice," the man writhing under him teased, between one moan and one, very suggestive, roll of the eyes.

"Hmm?" Heathcliff said questioningly.

His date was worthy of walking down the catwalk. It was no wonder he wanted to make it into the fashion industry. His golden skin was flawless, and he had cheekbones that one could use to polish knives. Not to mention his amazing plump lips that Heathcliff had just earlier experienced wrapped around his cock. Driving himself over and over again inside that lithe body was going to yield results soon.

"Talking over the phone while we're fucking?" the man pouted.

"He wasn't going to let go if I didn't pick up," he replied with a smile and pulled the guy close for a quick kiss on those luscious pouty lips.

"Who was that?" the man asked.

"My new assistant," Heathcliff replied.

"And you just invited him over?"

"Aren't you talking a little too much?" Heathcliff withdrew only to place the man on his fours.

The look from the back was amazing, too. He was going to use his contacts to see what he could do for the young model. What was his name again? Matt? Mitch? He had never been good with names. He needed to check his phone. Although he kept his occasional flings' numbers in the phone memory for no longer than a few days, he was going to make an exception this time. He definitely wanted to meet this guy again.

While he appraised the slim arched back of his partner, his mind wandered to the voice over the phone. The guy had sounded young. So he wasn't a middle-aged man, after all? By all means, Aidan Spark had sounded professional. Maybe it was just the man's luck to have a voice this young.

He was going to see the guy soon enough. After ignoring him on purpose all Friday, he wanted to put the man to work, and have him on the move on Saturday. If the scumbags from The Healthy Shakers wished to make him dance to their tune, he was not going to be all compliant and convenient. At least he could make Aidan Spark sweat a little.

"Ah, damn," his partner moaned, and Heathcliff sped up.

It took them only a couple more minutes to come. Heathcliff was satisfied for now, but he definitely wanted seconds. The guy was a knockout between the sheets.

"Hey, I'm hitting the shower. Join me or shower later?" he asked the guy.

His partner just waved, clearly wasted.

"Later."

"Suit yourself," Heathcliff shrugged.

***

Aidan pulled his car into the driveway, after checking the address a couple of times, to make sure he got it right. He climbed out of his car, took his briefcase and smoothed down a few imaginary wrinkles on his suit. When he deemed himself satisfactory, he walked to the door.

Apparently, he could be buzzed in, so he pressed one time, shortly, on the button. Although it was a bit annoying, it looked like he needed to consider doing that a second time.

"Come up," a raspy voice finally replied, and the long sound that followed let him know that he could go through the door.

For his current status, Heathcliff Stone had a pretty good looking house. Aidan took in the nice, maybe a bit too square, design arrangements. By all means, his host was nowhere in sight.

His ear picked up something, and he blinked a couple of times, feeling intrigued. What were those sounds? Was someone in pain? Or ...?

He could feel his cheeks warming up. Heathcliff Stone couldn't be this uncouth. But, as his eyes traveled across the stairs leading to what was most probably the man's open bedroom and den of pleasures, he was sure his hearing wasn't playing tricks on him.

Taking a deep sigh, and making an effort to cool down a bit, he took the first step. After all, Aidan Spark was a professional, and Heathcliff Stone had to do a little better to impress him.

***

"Were you planning some threesome and you didn't say?" his bed partner moaned.

Heathcliff stared at the preppy looking guy at the top of the stairs. He could feel a grin coming up. Was that the babysitter? By all means, the guy couldn't hold a candle to his current date, yet, as he looked at the guy, standing there, a small professional smile frozen on his lips, Heathcliff could only think of how that was going to be a helluva lot fun.

Square down to a tee, the guy looked taken out of some yuppie collection, spring-summer. His suit was neat, his light brown hair was slicked back, not one strand astray, and his warm eyes were examining his host inquisitively.

Keeping the guy's stare, Heathcliff placed an absent-minded peck on his bed partner's ankle. Matt/Mitch was looking particularly good in that position, one leg hooked over Heathcliff's broad shoulder, the other dropped and touching the floor.

Yet, right now, Heathcliff only had eyes on his so-called babysitter. Yeah, the guy was cute. And, by the way he was standing there, obviously striving to keep in place instead of running away screaming, was tickling him the right way.

So, a hand placed firmly on his partner's hip, he began moving more amply. The babysitter seemed no less and no more disturbed.

Oh, the nerve, Heathcliff thought. The guy was checking his wristwatch with a small frown.

"Oh, yes, baby," he cooed, but he was still not looking at his partner.

"Hey," Mitch/Matt slapped him over the chest, to draw his attention.

"Come here," he whispered seductively and pulled the guy into a kiss.

Faking that he was closing his eyes, he continued to examine the newcomer through his dropped eyelashes. Matt 'what was his name' was moaning prettily while their lips and tongues were doing a sensual dance.

"Damn, fuck," his partner dropped on his back as Heathcliff continued to fuck him harder and harder.

And Heathcliff locked eyes again with Aidan Spark, as he came into the rubber while fucking some guy whose name he was sure he was going to forget the moment the man was going to be out the door. Just in case he did actually know it in the first place.

"Hmm," he purred in satisfaction as he pulled out and took out the condom with expert moves. "What do you say?" he held the rubber so that his new guest could see the load he had just shot.

"It is commendable that you practice safe sex, Mr. Stone," the guy said in the same even, measured tone Heathcliff had heard over the phone.

He wanted so much to mess with this guy. The fact that he looked like he was going to resist was just making things more exciting.

"Mr. Stone?" Matt/Mitch guffawed from the bed.

Heathcliff offered his hand to help the guy get up, and with a small playful smack on the man's delicious rump, he pushed him in the direction of the bathroom.

"May I have your signature here?"

Heathcliff turned to watch the guest again. One moment out of sight, and the guy was running amok, it seemed. Now he was taking out of his briefcase some papers and a pen. With practiced moves, he moved his suitcase in the other hand and began walking toward Heathcliff's partner.