Christopher, Craig & Co.
Part 35: The Plot Thickens...
Wade was stretched out on the couch in the den, legs dangling lazily over the arm, thumbing through a comic book when I opened the front door. I was glad to be home from another busy day, even though I had a ton of homework to do to prepare for my class which was poised to start in just a couple days.
Wade sprang to his feet and met me in the foyer. “You’re late!”
I narrowed my eyes. “I’m aware.”
“I’ve been waiting for you.”
“So I see.” I set my bag down beside my desk and picked up the stack of mail, quickly sorting through it. Nothing pressing. And nothing threatening. Score one.
“You were gone when I got up this morning. I meant to get up and catch you.”
I stopped and looked at Wade. “What’s up?”
He stammered something. Apparently I had caught him offguard.
I smiled easily. “Obviously there’s something you want to discuss with me. You have my undivided attention. What can I do for you?”
Wade frowned. He shifted his weight. He shrugged his shoulders.
“Wade?”
“Oh, okay. Last night something happened. Well, it’s not really a big deal or anything. I mean, it kinda is, but it kinda isn’t.”
‘Kind of,’ I thought. I love Wade, but his vocabulary needed a little work. Freshman English would help. “Let me guess...something at Kampas?”
Wade nodded. “I wasn’t gonna tell you about it. I mean, what do you care if Craig comes into the bar or anything, right?”
As much as it pains me to admit it, at that very moment it felt like someone had thrown a bucket of ice water at me.
Wade was looking at me curiously, waiting for some sort of encouragement.
“Right,” I managed.
“Well...so...I think he was there to meet Alan. Cause Alan showed up. And I was really pissed about that because I think they had sex right there at the bar.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “Probably not the first couple to do that,” I said weakly.
“No, no, I guess not. But still! In my bar! He could’ve gone any place else in town...”
Suddenly I was flashing to Humphrey Bogart and all the gin joints...
“Chris?”
“Huh? Oh, sorry.” We weren’t discussing the Café American. We were at Kampas.
I lowered myself into my desk chair. “What made you decide to tell me this?”
“Scott said not to. He said you don’t need to know what Craig is doing and that you’re getting along just fine on your own and that I should just stay out of it. And I would’ve. Really. But there was this kinda creepy guy in the bar and—”
“Creepy guy?” I repeated, trying to keep up with Wade’s train of thought. Two seconds ago Scott was giving advice and saying I’m doing fine...
“Yeah. It was weird though ‘cause first he was talking to Craig for like a really long time. And then after Alan got there he came over to the bar and tried to grab me.”
My head snapped up. “What?”
Wade held up his hands. “It’s all right. Nothing happened or anything. And Scott was there backing me up the whole time.”
I was forcing myself to remain calm. “So he grabbed you?” There, my voice almost sounded normal.
“He tried to. But that wasn’t what freaked me out.”
Some guy grabbed him at the bar, it freaked him out, wait. “It’s not?”
“No. Chris, this guy knows you.”
More ice water dumped on me. I stared at Wade. Somebody who knows me tried to attack him at work. Suddenly threatening mail seemed desirable.
I stood and crossed to Wade. I gently took him by the shoulders. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
Wade looked surprised. Then his face lit up in an incredible grin. “Yeah.” He nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. I mean, he barely touched my shoulder. I knocked his hand away and then Scott told him to get out of the bar. It wasn’t that big a deal.” Wade gave a little laugh. “I think you’re more freaked than I was.”
I pulled him into a hug.
“Chris?”
I took a deep breath and let go of him. “If anything ever happened to you...” I let the thought trail off. I didn’t even want to think about that. I was never going to have a son of my own. But Wade was like my own.
“I really didn’t mean to upset you, Chris. I just figured I should tell you. I mean if you could’ve heard the way this guy called you his dear friend; it really creeped me out.”
“You’re sure you’re okay?”
Wade smiled again. “Yes. I promise. If you don’t believe me you can ask Scott. He’ll tell you the whole thing was over in like a minute. It wasn’t any big thing. I mean, creepy guys come into the bar. They don’t usually try to grab me—usually they just try to get Scott’s number, but when he said he knew you I figured it wasn’t really a coincidence that he was in the bar that I work at.”
I chewed on my lower lip. “No, you’re right. This was no coincidence.” I had to focus. Who was it? “Did he mention a name?”
Wade shook his head. “Not to me. Maybe Craig knows!” Wade frowned. “Forget that. I’m not talking to him.”
“We may very well have to give Craig a call. But in the mean time, what did he look like?”
Wade’s smile faded. “I don’t know. The only thing about him that I really paid attention to was that he was all dressed up in a suit. And not some cheap off the rack thing. It might’ve been Armani. He looked totally out of place at Kampas.”
“Was he short? Tall? Young? Old?”
Wade gave a sort of facial shrug. “Tall, I guess. Older than you. I mean, I think he was older than he looked.”
That wasn’t a lot to go on. For one horrifying instant I wondered if perhaps the person talking to Craig and Wade was a new cop on the scene. Then I remembered that police don’t generally wear Armani.
Maybe enough boys had disappeared around here to draw the attention of the Feds? Still, I wasn’t seeing a Fed in Armani at a college bar. That would be lousy undercover. This whole thing was making my head hurt.
The phone rang.
Wade reached for it when I didn’t jump for it. He held the receiver out to me. “It’s Scott.”
I took the phone. “Hello?”
“Hey, Chris. I was just calling to see how you’re doing.”
“That was thoughtful of you. I’m doing okay.”
“You sound strained. I knew Wade would tell you about last night. That kid can’t keep a secret, I swear!”
In spite of myself, I grinned. “Well, that’s quite all right. I’m glad he told me. But he didn’t really have a good description of the guy who grabbed him. Do you remember anything about him?”
There was a pause. “He told you about that?”
I reached around my neck with my free hand and started kneading the flesh. “He told me about Craig, too.”
“Oh, he did. Okay. The guy, huh? Let me see. He was tall. Middle-aged. Dark hair. Really well-dressed.” Scott paused. “Not much help, I guess.”
“Well, do me a favor. If you see him in the bar again, will you call me?”
“Of course!”
I smiled. “Scott, you have any plans for lunch tomorrow?”
“No, why?”
“Well, I was wondering if you’d like to have lunch with me.”
Wade punched me lightly on the arm, grinning from ear to ear.
“Scott?” I asked.
“Sure! I’m sorry, the bar is getting busier.”
“Why don’t you call me later when you get a chance and we’ll set up the details?”
“That’d be great.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
“Me too!”
I disconnected.
Wade’s mouth was open. “I can’t believe you asked out Scott! That’s so cool!”
“It’s only lunch, Wade.”
“Yeeeeeeah. Well, I hope you have a really great time. Cause you’re great. And Scott’s great. And you would be great together.”
I held up my hands. “Slow down! I asked him to lunch. That’s all, Wade.”
“I just want you to find somebody to be happy with. Somebody who’s not a dick like Craig.”
Hmmm.
To be continued in Part 36...
Christopher, Craig & Co.
Part 36: Slave Dave Caged.
In the anxiety of Wade’s brush with a handsy bar patron and the excitement of setting up a lunch date with Scott, I overlooked one tiny detail: David had no Master and was programmed to return here tonight—a fact I was reminded of when the doorbell rang a little past 9:30.
David stood on the front step, dressed in boots, jeans, and sweatshirt, breathing heavily. He smiled at the sight of me.
Mental headslap. “David, you walked all this way?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, come on in. How are you today?”
He entered the house and removed his boots, inhaling deeply from each.
“I’m good, sir.”
“Did you quit your job today?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s a good boy! Come into the den.” I lowered the volume on the stereo and sat in my club chair. David continued to stand in the center of the room.
“David, I must admit I haven’t found you a Master yet. It completely slipped my mind today. So I suppose I’m going to have to keep you for a few days.” I frowned. “The only problem is that you’ll have to stay out of sight when Wade is here.”
“Wade, sir?”
“Wade is my—well, it’s rather difficult to explain. And it really doesn’t matter to you anyway, so let’s just forget it. He’s out for the evening with his boyfriend and shouldn’t be back for at least a couple hours. Which means I can play around a bit with you.”
David smiled.
“Closet Cop.”
The tension seemed to leave David’s body at the sound of his trigger. He would do anything I instructed him to now.
“David, until I give you permission you will be unable to open any doors or windows. You will not remember how to turn a doorknob, or unfasten a window latch. You will remain in this house with no means of exiting. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
Well, that took care of him accidentally wandering out into the neighborhood. I returned to the foyer and retrieved his boots. I didn’t want to have to answer any questions about the size 8 workboots by the door.
“Follow me, David.”
I led the way through the dining room to the kitchen. I opened the cellar door. David followed me down the steps.
“David, this will be your new home until I find a Master for you.” I glanced around the room at the workout equipment, old dinette set, and cage. “You will sleep in that cage. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You will like sleeping in the cage. You know that a slave belongs in a cage when he is not serving his Master. Isn’t that right, David?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good boy. Now, you are not allowed to go upstairs under and circumstances. You will stay down here unless I come and get you. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Under no circumstances will you climb those stairs. Repeat it to me and know that you must obey.”
“Under no circumstances will I climb those stairs.”
“That’s a good slave. Which reminds me. I think in order for you to begin your new life as a slave you should be addressed as a slave. You will no longer think of yourself as David Rivera. That name will hold no more meaning for you. That is not who you are anymore. David Rivera was a police detective and a free man. You have left that life behind. You have quit your job on the police force and have come here seeking life as a slave. And that is who you will be: Slave. You will answer only to Slave. Repeat that to me.”
“I will answer only to slave.”
“That’s a good slave. What is your name?”
“Slave.”
“What is your name, boy?”
“Slave, sir!”
My cock twitched. Total surrender always has this effect on me.
“Slave, you will not be needing your clothes tonight. Undress for me.”
He unzipped his sweatshirt and slipped out of it, then pulled his T-shirt off over his head. His jeans were unbuttoned, unzipped, and stepped out of in seconds. He stood in his white crew socks, his pierced cock hanging limply.
I collected up the clothes and piled them on the stairs with his boots.
“Slave, while you are here you must be careful to make as little noise as possible. You will not call out or make any sound to alert anyone that you are here. You will not speak unless you are spoken to. You will sleep in the cage. I will bring you meals, and allow you time to bathe yourself and use the facilities. When you are alone here you will think of how much you enjoy being a slave and how much you want a Master to serve. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
I looked at his naked body and flaccid cock. “You’re unable to achieve erection. But that doesn’t mean you don’t feel horny. Even as you stand here naked before me you can imagine what it would be like to have my cock in your mouth. You want it more than anything else in this world right now. You want to get on your knees and suck my cock. You want to taste my cum. You want to be a slave to my cock, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir!” Immediately he dropped to his knees.
I lowered my pants, exposing my erection.
Slave crossed the distance between us on his knees, staring greedily at my cock. He took me in his mouth hungrily.
“Slowly, slave. Make it last,” I instructed.
I fucked his face slowly, letting him savor my cock in his mouth as I was relishing the feel of his mouth on my cock. When I came, I shot hard, sweat covering my body, beginning to soak through my shirt. I let slave lick me clean before fastening my pants.
“Slave, you did an excellent job of serving me. You deserve a reward. Although you are unable to cum, unable to get hard, when I say the word you will experience an orgasm as strong as any you have felt in your life. You will feel as though your body is spent from a long night of sex, and you will be ready to go and sleep in your cage, knowing that I have let you feel this way. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You will have your orgasm NOW!”
David gasped and moaned, riding out the orgasm in his mind. As the waves receded he sagged against the floor.
“Get in your cage, slave.”
He climbed to his feet and walked to the cage, stooping over to step inside. He curled up on the blanket on the floor and smiled at me.
I walked to the cage and locked him in. “That’s a good slave. Sleep well.”
“Thank you, sir.”
As I climbed the steps I once again wondered: who was I going to enslave him to?
To be continued in Part 37...
Christopher, Craig & Co.
Part 37: Date to Remember.
Here it was, Saturday afternoon, and I had a lunch date. How long had it been since that had happened? I hated to think. I stood in front of my closet for what seemed like ages, trying to choose something that looked casual enough to pass for something I’d just thrown on, yet dressy enough to impress Scott.
I wanted to impress him. There, I’d admitted it. I hadn’t been looking for anything to develop with Scott; had tried to ignore his good looks and charm. But I was beginning to realize my thoughts about him were no longer purely thoughts of friendship. I wanted to get to know him. I wanted to be around him. I wanted to see him undressed.
I cringed. Okay, so I’m human. Scott’s a really incredible-looking guy. I’m attracted to him. Is that so wrong?
I eventually settled on a green shirt, black slacks, and black slip-ons before driving to the restaurant. We had agreed to meet at Belladonna’s at one.
Scott was just getting out of his car when I pulled into the lot. He pulled his wool coat closed against the wind. I noticed he was wearing khakis, brown loafers, and white socks and felt a small jolt in my stomach. God, he was a beautiful man.
I angled out of my car. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Scott smiled, a bit bashfully. “I hope I dressed enough. I’ve actually never been here.” He thrust his hands in his coat pockets and I caught a glimpse of the brown sweater he wore over a white dress shirt.
“You look wonderful,” I said.
“Thanks. You too.”
I grinned. “Shall we go in?”
The maitre d’ showed us to a private table near the back of the restaurant. Belladonna’s was one of my favorite restaurants—the service was excellent, the food divine, and no one ever raised an eyebrow at gay clientele.
The waiter appeared and told us the specials then disappeared to give us time to peruse the menus.
“What do you feel like eating?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Everything sounds so good.”
“Well, order anything you like.” I smiled.
Scott returned my smile.
Once we’d placed our order Scott leaned back in his chair. “I was really surprised when you invited me to lunch last night.”
“I find it hard to believe that you’re not fending off suitors most of the time, Scott.”
He laughed. “I don’t generally have to beat them off with a stick.”
I grinned playfully. “Good. Because I’m not really into S&M.”
Color rushed into Scott’s cheeks, but the grin on his face told me I hadn’t embarrassed him too badly.
“This is incredible,” Scott said, sampling the chocolate mousse.
I tasted it. It was excellent. Everything about this lunch had been excellent—the food, the company, the things I’d learned about Scott. I was hoping he’d felt the same. The more I got to know him, the more I wanted to know.
The waiter brought the check and left it on the table.
Scott reached for it.
My hand landed atop his. Our eyes met. He turned his hand over and held mine.
“You didn’t think I’d ask you to lunch and let you pay, I hope,” I said.
He smiled. “Thank you.”
We continued to hold hands as we ate the rest of the mousse. I felt like I was back in high school with a raging crush. All of the traumas and drama of the past few months meant absolutely nothing in that moment. I was here with Scott and I was happy.
In the parking lot I walked Scott to his car. He scraped the pavement with the toe of his loafer.
“I had a really good time,” he said.
“Me, too. Do you think we could do it again?”
“I’d love to.”
The wind was whipping through the parking lot. I could feel it even through my coat. Scott’s ears were turning pinker. He was smiling.
“I should probably get going. I have to be to work in awhile.”
I nodded. “Call me when you’re done. I mean, if you want to.”
“It’s Saturday night. I’m liable to be there past two.”
“It’s all right. Call me.”
“You’re sure?”
I nodded.
“Well,” Scott said.
“Yeah.” I shrugged.
And that’s when I knew I could really fall for Scott Wilson in a big way. He stepped across the distance between us and gently brushed his lips against mine. His lips were soft, but strong. For a moment I was lost in his kiss.
He was smiling at me. “I couldn’t let this end without finding out what it was like to kiss you,” he said.
I pulled him toward me and kissed him again. The fact that we were in a public parking lot at one of the most upscale restaurants around no longer mattered. I was on one of the closest things to a dream date I had ever experienced, and I wasn’t ready for it to end.
Scott pressed his forehead against mine. “I’ll call you tonight.”
I watched him angle into his car and back out of his parking spot. He gave a little wave before shifting into Drive.
I waved and turned to get in my car.
A beat up station wagon was blocking my path, with three teenagers standing around it.
“Hey, get a load of the faggot,” one of them said.
My breath caught in my throat. This wasn’t good. Stay calm. There’s no reason to panic. Your car is less than ten feet away. Just walk slowly and calmly to it, get in, and drive off.
“Where’s your boyfriend, faggot?” Another of the kids said.
I was trying not to pay too close attention to them. Maybe if I ignored them they’d go away. I didn’t really want to make eye contact if I could help it. I took a step toward my car.
“Where you going, queerbait?”
I took a deep breath and another couple steps. Two of the kids rounded their car, blocking my path.
This was crazy. I was close to a busy road, just outside an open restaurant. Why were these three hassling me?
I held up my hands. “Listen, I just want to get in my car.”
“Should’ve done that instead of making out with your fuckin’ boyfriend, faggot.”
“Must you keep calling me that?”
“What? Faggot? It’s what you are.”
I wasn’t going to debate the semantics of my sexual preference with these three. I glanced around quickly. Not a soul in sight. It felt like I was in a bad Lifetime movie. This was stupid. I’m a grown man out in broad daylight. I reached into my pocket for my keys.
I aimed for breezy conversation. “Well, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I still have a lot to do this afternoon. Good day.” I strode toward my car.
There was a hand on my shoulder, then a sharp pain in my stomach, an explosion by my left eye, then nothing.