Madison Mills

[This is a completed, four chapter work that will finish posting by the end of December 2018.]

Chapter One: Scarred

Wedged in the crowd in Times Square below the CNN big screen, next to the tower on top of which Anderson Cooper and Andy Cohen were cavorting and waving to the crowd, Nick felt Steven Saylor pull him in close. Someone near them was starting the countdown on the ball drop ushering in 2018 early by thirty seconds and others were taking up the chant, although when they got closer they’d have to readjust to the official time. Saylor was giving Nick a dreamy look, and Nick was sure the man would be kissing him when the ball dropped at midnight. That was OK with Nick.

Saylor, who was the director of the commercial modeling shoot Nick was working on and had obviously been a male model once himself, had been zeroing in on Nick for days. Nick knew the man wanted to fuck him and had brought him up for New Year’s in New York from Philadelphia, where they were shooting fashions for a men’s magazine at the Barnes Museum, to do that. His aim was to impress Nick with experiencing New Year’s in Times Square. It was clear the outing had the intent of taking Nick to a hotel afterward and banging the hell out of him. Nick had decided days ago he’d let that happen. Steven was good-looking, had a great body, had clearly signaled that he was a top, was paying for this trip, and was very useful in networking jobs. More to the point, he was authorizing the checks that paid Nick for this gig and Nick wasn’t just a model; he worked as a full-service escort as well.

It was colder than a witch’s tit out here despite the “packed together” raucous crowd, and Nick was just as happy that the older man was holding him in a close embrace.

“Look, it’s a gay New Year’s,” Steve called out, directing Nick’s gaze up to the top of the CNN tower, where Cooper and Cohen, both having come out gay, a revolutionary declaration in TV coverage, were bantering and nearly cuddling. He then directed Nick’s attention over to one of the CNN screens, where, from New Orleans, CNN anchor Don Lemon, also declared gay, was buzzing his recently acknowledged boyfriend on one screen, and where, from Key West, the drag queen Sushi was about to be lowered from the balcony of the Bourbon Street Pub in a mammoth red slipper. It was a revolutionary year in TV coverage for the LGBT community, even if that wasn’t being trumpeted by the public.

Saylor’s words were slurred. He’d been drinking off and on from a flask he kept hidden from the view of the various security guards around. He’d offered it to Nick, and Nick had taken one swig, but only one, to counteract the arctic temperatures. Saylor had taken far more than one swig.

CNN had, indeed, gone all out on a gay New Year’s Eve, and Nick wondered if Steve Saylor had brought them to this area of Times Square on purpose to latch into that. Probably so. Saylor had shown quite a bit of interest in Nick’s preferences and even had made clear that he knew that Nick worked for a New York male-only escort service in addition to his modeling. It was evident Saylor had maneuvered Nick to this area of the celebration zone to ensure that Nick knew the context in which the two of them were here.

Ten, nine, eight. The crowd was into the official countdown and the ball was dropping on the Times Tower. At the count of four, Saylor turned Nick to him and brought their faces together. At three they already were kissing—first tentatively, but then, when Nick readily yielded, dueling tongues hungrily. At one, Saylor, emboldened by Nick’s submission, took one of Nick’s hands and moved it between them, where, through the various layers of clothing, Nick found that the older man had unzipped himself. He moved Nick’s hand into his fly and to his dick. Nick didn’t balk. He’d already made his decision. He wrapped his hand around the older man’s cock. It had nice length and thickness, but it wasn’t hard, that being inhibited by the cold temperature and the booze Saylor had been drinking.

Saylor pulled his lips from Nick’s and, in a slurred tone, asked, “You going to be good to me tonight?”

Nick answered, “Whatever you want.”

Still, twenty seconds into the new year, the two were back into a deep kiss, rocking against each other, and connected by Nick’s hand wrapped surreptitiously around Saylor’s cock inside his fly. The advertising executive’s kiss was passionate and he was breathing heavily. Nick maintained a hold on the dick long enough to establish that he wasn’t put off before withdrawing his hand and zipping Saylor up. “Later—and more privately—Tiger,” he called out loud enough for Saylor to hear him over the sound of the crowd. They were wedged in so close in the crowd and everyone else was so taken up with his or her own response to the turning of the year that no one had seemed to notice Saylor’s forward act.

Pulling out of the kiss at last, Saylor looked down at the smaller, younger, lither male model and said, “I will get you back to Philly for the photo shoot tomorrow, but there’s a room at a nearby hotel, and you must be frozen to an ice cube. We’ll go to the hotel and—”

“Yes,” Nick answered.

“You know what I’m asking?”

“Yes.”

“It’s not just me, though.” Saylor said. “The sponsor of the ads we’re shooting. Harvey Williams. He’s here, at the hotel. He’s seen your portfolio and wants to meet you. It’s important to us. He’s talking about expanding his ad coverage. More work for us . . . for you. Will you . . . ? You’ll be compensated well, of course.”

“Yes,” Nick answered. He needed the job. He’d seen Williams nosing around the Barnes Museum photo shoot. He’d seen the looks the man had given him. And, though Williams was old and was an ugly man, he was in shape—in even better shape than Saylor was, although Saylor had once been a model himself and was still a handsome and trim-bodied man. Williams was more of a solid muscle man. Nick had already become resolved to lay under both men if bidden to do so. He hadn’t figured it would be both on the same night, possibly together, however. It wouldn’t be a problem. Saylor hadn’t been clear on that point, but Nick had done threesomes before—even double penetration when the price was right. The escort agency knew that he would do doubles, for a price. Saylor seemed to have checked out his listing with the escort agency closely. Saylor wasn’t directly saying they’d double him, but Nick had learned always to anticipate the most extreme possibilities.

So, what the hell? As much as a few years ago, before Nick had arrived in New York City to make his way in the world, on the Broadway stage, he would have blushed at being so forward about going with another man, let alone two together—although he’d been going with men since he was eighteen. Not many young men trained from their teens to be a male model, dancer, and singer, although Nick’s main interest was in becoming a writer. Nick had lain under countless men since his dance master first fucked him. He had kept his sexual side private, though, through his initial college days. But Nick had learned as soon as he began working in New York as a model that sleeping with those who had connections was necessary for getting ahead.

The InterContinental Hotel was just down the street from Times Square, so they managed to stumble there by twenty minutes after midnight, two icicles warmed only by sexual heat, navigating through the crowd being their biggest obstacle. The hotel’s Stinger Cocktail Bar and Kitchen was crowded, but Harvey Williams had arrived there before midnight and had secured a table. They ordered drinks but weren’t there long enough to finish them.

“The bar closes at one, even though it’s New Year’s,” Williams said when they were settled and had ordered. “I thought they’d stay open later tonight. But we could always find another—”

“And go right back out into the cold?” Nick asked. “Brrr. I don’t know if I’m up to that. Mr. Saylor tells me you have a room right here in the hotel.”

“Yes, yes, I do. This is where I’m staying. So, you’re fine with—?”

“Yes, I’m fine with this,” Nick said, giving Williams a smile. Nick had to force himself to do so, as the man’s face was on the toad side, but if he was going to do this, he might as well do it right. It was clear that Williams was the man he was supposed to satisfy. They could do it in the dark.

“I thought you lived in Manhattan,” Nick continued, giving the man a teasing smile. “And yet you are booked into a hotel here?”

“Yes,” Williams said, giving Nick a level stare. He took a room pass card out of his pocket and set it down on the cocktail table. “Room 703. A corner room. King-sized bed. A very nice room,” Williams said. He wasn’t going to stint on his end of the encounter.

“Because you prefer taking young men like me to hotels rather than to where you live?” Nick asked.

“Yes, because I like to take young men exactly like you to hotel rooms,” the man answered.

“May I see this nice room of yours?” Nick asked.

“Right now?”

“Sure, why not right now? You want to fuck me, don’t you? A New Year’s celebration. If you really want to do more drinking, you can have it sent up to the room.” Steven Saylor had a hand on Nick’s knee, but Nick understood that Williams was the major player here. And he saw no reason to dilly-dally around. The photo shoot in Philadelphia was called for 10:00 in the morning and it would be a two-hour drive there from Manhattan, longer if the expected snow started to fall before they were finished in the hotel. Might as well get on with it.

“You are a very direct young man,” Williams said.

“It’s New Year’s. Let’s celebrate,” Nick said.

“Steven will be coming to the room with us,” Williams said. “Is that—?”

“That’s fine with me,” Nick responded.

“I like to . . . you know . . . with three.”

“I understand,” Nick said, giving Williams a direct gaze attached to a smile.

“Together. Doubling. Two in—”

“Yes, I understand,” Nick repeated, holding the smile.

“It’s just that you are on the small side. Slim hipped.”

“It will not be a problem.”

“Well, the point would be that it would be taxing,” Williams said, which was met by low laughs all around, at which point Saylor interjected.

“Nick is a pro, Harvey. If he says he can handle it, he can handle it. I’m looking forward to it myself.”

Williams, moving his hand up Nick’s thigh, turned his face to Saylor. “I’m very pleased, Steven. I will remember you arranged this.”

Saylor beamed back at him. Nick put his hand on Williams’s and moved the man’s hand to his crotch. Just another working day in Nick’s current world. But Nick was looking at Williams in a new, more appreciative, light now. It wasn’t that Williams was interested in a doubling; it was because he had shown concern for Nick in managing this. Steve Saylor hadn’t shown any such regard for what Nick could or would handle.

* * * *

Saylor sat at the foot of the bed, swigging from his flask, as Williams fucked Nick in the shower. The water was on and Nick was backed to the shower tiles, his knees hooked on the big man’s hips and his arms around William’s neck, while the older man pressed the smaller, younger one against the wall, grasped and spread Nick’s buttocks cheeks, and slid the back of the beautiful young, perfectly formed body of the male model up and down on the slick tiles with the strength of the thrusts of his cock. Williams wasn’t long, but he was thick, and, trained to it, Nick made all of the sounds of submission and being taxed that impressed a rich john.

To a great extent Nick’s responses were genuine. Williams was very good. He was strong and well-muscled, and he worked Nick in a slow, deep, fully controlled rhythm. He held Nick against the shower stall wall with confidence, squeezing and spreading the young man’s buttocks cheeks in the rhythm of his strong, deep thrusts up into Nick’s channel. Nick’s face was buried in the silky, salt-and-pepper hair covering the older man’s hard pecs and thus he didn’t have to dwell on the ugliness of the man’s face, Williams’s facial features were coarse and his face pock marked from some long-ago illness, which he covered unless one was close up to him with a mustache and beard. Nick was glad he couldn’t see the man’s face. He had a phobia about disfigurement, and a deep belief that his own facile beauty was his ticket to the good life. He avoided looking at any face that wasn’t perfect.

Williams was sheathed with a heavily ribbed condom, had spent time opening Nick up with the attentions of his lips and tongue, and had used lubrication liberally, and thus he had given some thought to Nick’s pleasure. Because of the care taken in preparation Nick indeed had enjoyed the rippling of the especially contoured ribs of the condom over his channel walls. The pleasure this provided Nick set the young man’s passage muscles into a rippling undulation that, in turn, made love to the older man’s cock.

Nick came up Williams’s belly first, and Williams stepped a pace back, letting Nick’s body slowly sink to the tiled floor. The man ran his fingers into Nick’s blond, curly hair and pulled the young man’s face into his crotch. Taking the guidance, Nick rolled the condom off the man’s cock and took the hard shaft into his mouth, closing his eyes so that he didn’t have to look up in the man’s face. Manipulating Nick’s head with his grip, Williams moved Nick’s mouth on his cock until he tensed, pulled Nick’s head off the shaft, and creamed the young man’s cheeks and closed eyelids with his cum. He stood away from the kneeling young model then and let the stream from the showerhead wash the cum away.

They toweled each other off before returning, naked, to the hotel bedroom. Saylor was still sitting on the foot of the bed, swigging from his flask and pulling on his cock. The door to the bathroom had been left open and Saylor had had a full view of Williams fucking Nick in the shower. Despite the sensual show, Saylor wasn’t having any luck in hardening up and wasn’t connecting drunkenness with the inability to do so. Williams had invited him to play with them in the shower, but, self-conscious about not being able to go hard, Saylor had demurred.

He looked decidedly unhappy when Williams and Nick came into the room.

“Why don’t you bring Steven up to the mark?” Williams generously offered of Nick’s services. “I’ll sit over here and watch. Maybe when he’s hard we can double you. You will take us both, won’t you?” The man still seemed to question Nick’s willingness and capacity to handle that.

Nick took a deep breath. “If that’s what you’d like,” he answered. He had half believed that what Williams had said earlier about wanting it had just been a john’s bravado. Yes, Nick had doubled before. It wasn’t something he often did, though. When he did it through the escort agency, big bucks were involved. He hoped this deal Saylor was trying to set up was worth it.

He sank down on his knees between Saylor’s thighs and took the man’s cock in his mouth as Saylor lay back on the bed and let out a low moan. It was no go on getting the drunk hard, though, and Nick could tell he was getting upset by that. Williams was well versed in doubling, apparently, because at length, he came in behind Nick, grasped him by the hips, and moved him up and on top of Saylor. He, at least, was hard again. Nick grabbed Saylor’s wrists, spread the advertising executive’s arms above his head, and lowered his mouth on Saylor’s lips.

The kiss had some effect on Saylor’s cock. Williams did what he could to put the cock in position at Nick’s entrance and get the bulb inside. He pushed Saylor a bit deeper inside Nick with the force of his own cock, and technically both of the older men were inside Nick. But it was Williams who did all of the fucking. Saylor’s cock came out of the passage and, although, he managed a dribble of an ejaculation, it came in a weak flow on Nick’s inner thighs. Williams finished Nick in a strong stroking, though. It was just as well that Saylor had underperformed. He wasn’t sheathed.

After a satisfied Williams showered and left, having left his business card, with his private cell phone number and the note “Call me” on it in Nick’s hand, Saylor took a couple of more swigs from his flask and muttered about how good Nick had been with them and that Williams had been pleased, which was what was important. Out of embarrassment, he avoided saying anything about his inability to get it up. It obviously was weighing on his mind, though. He was quiet and a bit sullen as they pulled his Dodge Viper sports car out of the hotel garage and headed out to I-95 for the trip southwest to Philadelphia.

It was after 3:00 a.m. Traffic was light for the heavily traveled northeast region, but a freezing rain that was turning to snow made conditions slick on the road. A Dodge Viper is not a car one would want to be driving under wet, let along freezing, conditions—especially if it was driven by a drunk who was upset with himself and the world in general.

Just south of Cherry Hill, New Jersey, nearly all the way to Philadelphia, the Viper careened off the highway in the snow and ice, traveling much too fast for the conditions. Tired and not wanting to worry about Saylor’s driving, Nick had allowed himself to drift off into a doze. That perhaps was all to the good. He hadn’t tensed and tried to brace himself when the sports car went airborne and plowed into a stand of trees at the side of the road—he’d stayed loose for the impact—and he was wearing his harness seatbelt. Nick was pressed back into the seat as the Viper soared and then was jackknifed forward by the sudden jolt of the car hitting a tree. The windshield then shattered back onto him with the force of the impact from the tree when the front bumper hit and the car flipped up, crashing the windshield into the tree trunk before coming back down on its four wheels.

The rescuers had to use the jaws of life to free the two men from the wreckage of the collapsed car frame. From what the firemen could see inside the car, they assumed that both men were mangled and dead. They were half right. Nick Daniels was conscious again and aware of the grinding noise by his right shoulder as they were prying his door off. He felt pain nearly everywhere, but most noticeably on the left side of his face. Something there was bleeding—and badly. His eyes were blinded by flowing blood.

He felt an excruciating pain in his right arm and thigh as his door was pushed into his body. He let out a sharp cry and a deep moan.

“Careful, Phil. This one’s still alive,” he heard a gruff voice say and then he blacked out again.