The Brownstone: Scott

(Authors Note: This is the 9th installment in the Brownstone series. In reading order they are: Michael Ch01,02 Charles Ch01,02,03 Michael Ch03,04,05.

When I started writing the brownstone Scott was the first character I developed, as I wrote more I realized I needed to give Michael a back story...then Charles...then Cecil. As always I hope you are enjoying the story.)

Scott - The Beginning

I'm a married man that constantly dreams of wrapping my lips around a nice hard dick and sucking on it until a nice sweet load oozes down my throat...

Sometimes my mind wonders...well to be honest it wonders a lot...

It's probably all that manly testosterone, or so I've heard, flowing through my veins telling me that at the ripe old age of 26 I should be fucking my brains out night and day - unfortunately the sad reality is that I'm not.

I've been married for almost three years and the closest I've come to having sex was on my wedding night. I say close because although I did make it as far as my wife's pussy I never got past the front door, so to speak.

So how did this happen to me? On the surface it appears that I had everything going for me. I took the fast track on my education and graduated from Harvard with dual degrees in Business and Law by the age of 21. I even got hired fresh out of school by one of the most prestige law firms in New York City.

But maybe it's best to go back even farther to the beginning....

I was one of those silver spoon babies that grew up in one of the most prestigious areas of Pound Ridge New York. My father, and he was called father, not dad, daddy or papa, was an Executive Vice President for a large oil company. His life was dedicated to his work and I always felt that my mother and I were merely bit players in his world.

My mother was the stereotypically prom queen that graduated college and went to work for the same company as father. She was newly out of the office clerical pool when she had the good fortune to be elevated to the position of administrative assistant to my father's administrative assistant. All it took was for her to wear a low cut blouse and one late night of them working together for him to finally realize that he was over fifty years old and his biological alarm clock was ringing off the hook. Since she was the lucky one to be there, unmarried and answered the call - she became the one.

He might not have given her the romance a twenty one year old dreams about, what he did give her was a perfect life with of an unlimited bank account and a large stately home to run. For father it was everything he wanted it to be - a home far enough away from New York City that allowed him the freedom to do his job without marital interruptions.

During the week he maintained a residence on Park Avenue but every Friday, like clockwork, his trusted chauffeur Lionel would return him to us for two full days. My mother and I would always wait for him in the grand foyer where he would make his majestic entrance precisely at 6:00pm. There was always a gentle kiss on mother's cheek and a pat for me on the head before he would lock himself in his study to work two more hours before dinner was served at 8pm. Of course he worked most of the day on Saturdays but come evening time he was all ours and would sit with us in the family room until he gave mother a little 'nod' at which time I was shuffled off to bed so he could honor his husbandly duties to his wife. When he was done he would leave her bed and return to his study.

Sundays were always our time together. My father was religious man and without fail every Sunday we would go to early mass than out to breakfast together. Mother never attended church with us, something I never questioned because it was always my special time with father. At six pm every Sunday Lionel appeared at the doorway, mother and I again stood in the grand foyer where he kissed her on the cheek and patted me on the head and we watched him leave us again.

That all changed when I was 10 years old and mother got a phone call that he had died at his desk. He was sixty-three years old. It was only after his shocking and sudden death that my mother felt it was important for me to know everything about my life. Very carefully she explained to me that as much as she wanted to have a child with my father he wasn't able give her one. Wanting to make my mother happy he did the next best thing - he went to the Catholic Church and made arrangements to adopt a baby.

I didn't find my mother's revelation shocking.

My father was of Austrian decent, with thinning blond hair and brown eyes. He was a cold man who rarely smiled, hugged or kissed me. Mother came from a working class Irish American family and learned very quickly to enjoy the lifestyle father provided for her. She was a beautiful petite Irish woman with creamy white skin, long red hair and piercing green eyes. My appearance of a full thick head of dark hair and pale blue eyes, even at age ten, didn't come anywhere close to matching that of either parent. Mother took special pains after telling me I was adopted to reassure me that she loved me like I came from her and nothing could ever change that.

Quite naturally that was another one of her many lies and everything changed drastically six months later when she met Martin Andros and, like she did with father, married him a month later. He was five years younger than she was and never acknowledged that I even existed. His Greek heritage dictated that his house be filled with children, the caveat to that was he only wanted the children to be of his flesh and blood, another man's child, especially one that was adopted was an unacceptable commodity. That meant I was pushed to the side and over the next few years my mother gave to birth to two sons, a set of twins and a daughter.

The day mother gave birth to Martin's namesake he made the decision that I was to be sent away to boarding school. It went without saying that my dear sweet mother never stood up for me. She was so captivated by Martin and having his children she no longer had time for me in her life.

I was eleven years old when their chauffeur dropped me off at my new home outside of Boston. I made the trip to school alone as mother decided to stay home with the baby and Martin. Maybe some of my father's personality had rubbed off on me because for some reason I didn't seem to care what was being done to me.

I gave up any expectation of having a loving family that Thanksgiving when the Headmasters office informed me that a family emergency in Greece had taken Martin, my mother and of course the new baby out of the country for the next three to four months. As sad as this was to the Headmaster it was something he had experienced before. Over the years he had seen many children dumped by rich parents that put their personal lives over their children's. He always made sure that we had proper counseling and comforting facilities to make school life tolerable.

From the onset I became a problem for the school and it wasn't a behavioral issue either. My school was the highest ranked educational facility in the United States. Most every student that graduated went on to the best Ivy League schools. The curriculum they presented was supposed to be the best and hardest of its kind. To me, however, it was boring and didn't keep me challenged. The school psychologist finally determined I was graced with eidetic memory and was absorbing everything that crossed my path at an alarming rate. After exhausting all of their options they decided that to hold me back would do more harm than good and I was allowed to work at a pace that suited me. Two years later, at age thirteen, I graduated from one school and in the fall I started at another school called Harvard.

Harvard was the answer to all my prayers. Instead of being treated like a freak because of my age I was respected and held in high regard. Harvard afforded me the same options as I had come used to at my other school allowing me to work at my own pace. Over the next 48 months I earned dual undergraduate degrees in political science and business. I decided in my junior year that I wanted to study law so the summer before my senior year I took my LSAT's, scoring an outstanding 179, which in turn guaranteed me a coveted spot at the Harvard School of the Law the following fall.

My home life was non-existent. I hadn't visited the house in Pound Ridge since I was 13 and my mother had ceased all communication with me shortly afterwards. Financial matters were conducted through a financial manager my father had hired to take care of my mother and me until I came of legal age. At age 16, tired of being the bastard step child, I opted to cut ties from them and filed to be an emancipated minor. When neither my mother nor my stepfather contested the request the courts decided in my favor for emancipation. The judge presiding over the case was so incensed with my mother and after ruling in my favor told her that she was a poor excuse for a human being. The bitch just sat there and didn't even blink an eye.

A week later I had a visit from my late father's estate attorney for the long delayed reading of his will. I was only ten when he died and didn't realize that this had never been done. My father was very clear, if I was still a minor when he passed, the will would be sealed until I was of legal age. During that period of time my mother and I would be well provided for but if she made any attempts to break the will she would be permanently cut off from any allowances and only I would be provided for. My father was smarter than I ever gave him credit for and knew that my mother wouldn't stay the merry widow for very long and added a codicil that if she remarried she forfeited any claim to his estate. To add more salt to the wound he added that the portion of her estate, once forfeited, was to go directly to the Catholic Church -- something he knew would really piss her off.

Other than that one codicil his entire estate went to me. The moment I found out I was the primary owner of the house in Pound Ridge, the one the Andros's were living in, I made my first emancipated decision and had them evicted. I let my lawyer fight it out with their lawyer over the contents of the house, both of which made more money than the contents were worth. When they were finally gone I paid homage to my father by donating the house, and a sizable yearly stipend for maintenance, to the Catholic Church as a home for abandoned and troubled children and youth.

A few weeks later I received a letter from Fisher, Callahan and Dorsey, the legal firm that represented my father, inviting me to clerk for them before law school started. They were one of the largest firms in New York City. Mr. Bud Fisher, one of the founding partners, was to act as my mentor. He told me that their firm only hired the best of the best which meant every attorney that worked at the firm graduated from Harvard Law. "Do a good job this summer," he told me, "and one day your name will be on the door."

I fell in love with the law and with New York City that summer. I stayed at my father's condo on Park Avenue but decided when it was time to return to Harvard that it was time to do away with the old and start fresh. The condo sold in a record breaking 12 hours on the market. From the minute it was listed a bidding war erupted earning a record breaking price for a property sold on that street. In kind turn, I had the real estate agent find me a place more suited to my style, on the upper west side that I could use for weekend getaways and eventually grow into once I graduated school.

Law school became the solid ground beneath my feet while my personal life tested every fiber of my being. One day I was a boy in a boy's body with a boy's mind, the next day my voice was deeper, I was suddenly 6'4, and my lovely little dinky penis that only had one task in life was suddenly a monster that demanded to be milked every few hours.

I had seen other men's cocks before, after all I had only been around men all my life, but none of their cocks were like mine. Even my doctor couldn't explain why at 16 years old my cock was as big as it was. As far as my insatiable need to masturbate every few hours, the only comfort he was able to give me was that once a boy takes the turn to manhood and finds that wonderment of masturbation it sometimes can consume their soul. The correlation he drew was if you were given a new toy, you wanted to play with the toy day and night, but eventually you'll find that you don't need to play with it all the time to still enjoy the fact the it's your toy. It took most of my law school days to finally learned how to control the urges that seemed to happen.

Coincidentally it occurred at the same time I met Tina. Or maybe meeting Tina caused me to control my urges, either way, I had my cock under control and that's all that was import.

Tina came into my life the summer after I graduated law school. As Bud had promised I was hired at FC&D and she was a CPA contracted by them to perform a forensic audit of one of their clients. For weeks we were locked away in a small office going through massive quantities of documents looking for anything that would make us superstars. Our days were spent working and talking about things as trivial as what we watched on television the previous evening to the merits of recent Supreme Court decisions. At thirty-three she was quite a bit older than I was, but for some reason it didn't seem to matter.

I realized that with all that I had been through in my life trust didn't come easily to me. Somehow Tina was able to break through that wall and became the friend I had always yearned for. Looking back on it I imagine that somewhere along the way I confused that friendship for love and after a lengthy courtship I ask her to marry me.

I knew going into the marriage that Tina had issues when it came to sex. Five years earlier she had been attacked and sexually abused one night while walking home from work. I wanted to believe that maybe with the right person and the fact that we, supposedly, loved each other and time I could change those feeling within her and one day she would be able to have a normal sex drive.

Unfortunately this wasn't to be the circumstance the night of our marriage. The ceremony was a piece of cake compared to being alone in bed with her hours later. I held onto that pie in the sky aspiration that everything would work itself out but the reality was that not only was I still emotionally immature I was far too sexually naïve to handle a woman as complicated as Tina. I honestly believed that my professing my love for Tina through the vows of marriage would crack through her tough exterior, but in the end it didn't.

Standing by the bed, kissing my lovely bride on our wedding I tried to explain to her that I was a little bigger than most men. I asked her as gently as I could if she wanted to touch me first but she emphatically said no and tried to rush me to get on with it. Her body shook uncontrollable as I laid her on the bed and raised her nightgown, which she refused to take off and touched her for the first time. Her body stiffened to my touch and as much as I tried to calm her down she just lay there stiffly wanting me to get it over with. Memories of my father taking my mother upstairs every Saturday to perform his 'husbandly duties' forced me to continue on.

There was nothing that could have prepared me for what came next. I had positioned myself over her and had just put the head of my cock to her pussy, I hadn't even slid into her a quarter of an inch when she let out a blood curdling scream and begged me to stop. I jumped off the bed, as far away from her as I could until she was able to calm herself down. She curled herself into a fetal position and cried uncontrollable for over an hour, while I sat across the room, fearful to be anywhere near her, and waited.

I know that she didn't mean to direct her emotional state to me when she said was the most painful, worst and most disgusting thing she had ever experienced in her life but there was no other person in the room. Since I was the one that caused her the pain I also had to take the blame. The only solution I could come up with to get her calm down was to promise her that I would never do anything like to her again. That I would wait for her to come to me when she was ready. Three years later I've honored that promise and have never touched her again. The one time I tried to sleep in the same bed with her, what used to be my bed, she sat up all night staring at me. The next morning I voluntarily moved to the spare bedroom on the other side of the apartment. The only reason we've stayed married is because it's easier to leave things the way they are than change them.

So just like my father, I have dedicated my life to my work.

*************************

2012

Today Mr. Michael Layton walked into my office. My first impression was holy fuck! Not only was he good looking but damn he's hotter than shit! He had my dormant cock suddenly coming to life and twitching a wild dance the whole time he sat calmly in my office. Bud Fisher popped his head in my office soon after our meeting and told me that Mr. Layton was impressed with me and looked forward to speaking with me again. Before he left my office Bud told me that there were two things I needed to know about Michael Layton before I met with him again. The first one was that, although he was young, Mr. Layton was a business man from the old school and believed that to be taken seriously in business a person had to wear formal business attire and speak proper English. The second thing was to make sure I always did my research and that all my facts were double and triple checked.

"I know Michael very well. He's business through and through, but there are times that he treats business like a big game hunt and everyone is his prey. Right now he doesn't know you, so he doesn't trust you. As hard as this is going to be for you, you are going to have to meet him on his terms until he knows that he can trust you. He wants to see the real you not someone trying to bullshit their way into accepting his trust."

"Don't worry sir, I won't let you down."

I knew why Bud said what he did. There were some people that felt I was too cocky for my own good whereas I always thought of myself as self-assured. I am infrequently wrong and never allow myself to get into a situation where I don't have all my bases covered. I was somewhat worried when Bud told me I would be uncomfortable doing things Mr. Layton's way, I have trust issues as well and to compensate of the lack of trust I've found the need to always be in total control.

I did listen to every word that Bud says but if I was going to sell myself I was going to do it my way. No matter what happened I was going to get this contract for FC&D but I also need to let the Mr. Layton's of the world that they couldn't scare me. If Mr. Michael Layton equates business to a big game hunt and uses the weaker people in the world to advance themselves in their game, or life, and with every fiber of my being I had no intention of being one of those people.

To make my point I decided to call him that evening before I left the office. He answered my call on the first ring with "How are you this evening Scott?" His voice was unusually casual with me and caught me off guard. It took a moment to regroup my thoughts and take back my control and continue the conversation.

"I am well Mr. Layton and you?" I said in an attempt to switch the conversation to a more business tone.

"I'm glad you called. I was thinking about you and realized how important it is that we get to know each other if there is a chance we will be working together. I was wondering if you and your wife would be my guests at dinner tomorrow night."