The Hathaway

Some Things Never Change

At the appointed time Sylvia called everyone to order and began introductions. There were a number of representatives from a number of different organizations and she managed to remember everyone's name and position. I was impressed. The opening was being staged on the front steps and everything was perfect. The formal gardens were not fully restored yet, but the fallen branches were gone and the overgrown shrubs had been largely tamed, so the space had an open and airy feel to it. The main path had been resurfaced and offered easy access from the street, although the entrance could not be seen from the steps because of the curve in the driveway.

Sylvia began her speech and all seemed to be going to plan, when we began to hear a noise coming from the front gate. It sounded like voices. All the invited guests were already present, but the event was open to the public, so perhaps some of the locals had decided to join us. This made me happy, after all, we could use all the support we could get, especially from the local community.

As the voices grew louder it became evident that they were not just chattering, they were chanting in unison. As they came around the corner, my hopes were dashed. It was a small, but organized and vocal group of protesters. They carried placards that had all the usual hateful slogans on them, and had clearly come with the intention of disrupting the proceedings and gaining publicity for their extremist views.

They succeeded. The press immediately scrambled to refocus their cameras on the protesters, and Sylvia's speech was cut short. I immediately pulled out my phone and called the police. While the protesters weren't violent, they were trespassing and I wanted them removed immediately. Three cruisers arrived within five minutes, and it only took the cops a few minutes to remove the protesters from my property. They would not leave the area, however, and continued to protest on the public road outside our front gate.

After that we did our best to carry on as planned, but it was clear that things had changed. The reporters started hurling questions about lack of community support at us and wanted to know how we planned on dealing with local fears. Up to this point there had not been any fears voiced and we hadn't even thought about it. The town leaders were so happy to have a derelict property revitalized that we had been given a green light every step of the way. Sylvia did a masterful job of highlighting the hopeful vision the Hathaway was trying to create, and managed to get most of the media to focus on that. But a few reporters decided to put their focus on the protesters, and headed out to the road to interview them in depth.

When it was over we made a special point of thanking the group who had provided the food. While we had mentioned them to the reporters as an alternate view to the extremists at our front gate, they hardly seemed to take notice. But for us their presences was vital, and we let them know. They apologized profusely as if they were somehow partially responsible for the disruption, and joined us in wondering how a group that supposedly espoused love could act in such a hateful manner.

Finally, just Ben, I, and Sylvia remained. We invited her up to unwind and share a drink. One of the perks of moving out of the boarding house was that we could once again have wine with dinner. I poured us each a glass and we sat around the kitchen table to decompress. None of us wanted to state the obvious, but finally Sylvia just blurted out, “That was horrible!” and began to cry. “Why couldn't I think of anything to say? I handled that so badly.”

“What? I thought you handled that brilliantly.” I offered.

“Yeah,” Ben chimed in, beginning to tear up in sympathy, “I don't know how you stayed so calm. I would have been screaming at them.”

Within a minute we were all bawling, a spontaneous shared catharsis that was as necessary as the wine. Sylvia finally brought us back by asking, “So did I hear you're coming to dinner tonight?”

“Absolutely,” Ben responded. We need our family after a day like today.”

“Good.” Her head was clearing and she added, “We can begin to form a strategy for dealing with crap like this in the future.”

Ben raised an eyebrow and said, “Or we could just eat supper together. I think I'd prefer that.”

“Fair enough,” she smiled. “You're probably right.”

When she left, Ben announced that christening the study could wait for a more auspicious day, and voiced his desire for some physical comfort. I agreed and we decided to take a brief nap before getting ready for dinner so we could have some cuddle time. It was just the right thing. While Ben was this big burly lumberjack, he was also incredibly sensitive and easily hurt. I held him as he cried out the rest of his frustration and anger, allowing myself to join in as it felt appropriate. I don't think we actually slept, we just held each other and offered each other the safe space we each needed. By the time we started getting ready to head out, we were both feeling better. Ben was especially happy to be out of his suit and back into his favorite jeans and tee shirt.

It was late August and still quite warm, so we decided to walk to the boarding house. A few of the trees had already started to turn, but the predominant color was still green. In the two and a half years I had been here I had come to look forward to this transition. Ben once again lectured me on why the leaves changed color, and I knew I could expect this same lecture at least three of four more times before they had all finally fallen. I didn't mind, though. His love for the trees, and all of nature, was part of what made him so lovable. I looked forward to his lecture with the same kind of anticipation I felt toward a favorite ghost story at Halloween or a favorite carol at Christmas. There was a certain kind of comfort to be found in its almost eternal quality.

We arrived in time for only a brief greeting before everyone was called to the table. Our two rooms were still vacant, but Miss M. had two new students lined up for September. Otherwise the population of the boarding house was pretty much the same. The twins had spent the summer working internships at a theater in the city, and would be back in time for school. Andi, Sylvia, and Helmut were still occupying the same rooms they had been, while Heather had graduated, and was currently traveling in Europe. She was also slated to return sometime soon. She had blossomed at the Paterson, making herself indispensable. The archivist had turned out to be the perfect mentor for her, and helped her discover her own passion for history. She had decided to take a year off before pursuing her Master's, and spend the time traveling and working part time for the museum. So we were a small group tonight, only six instead of the usual nine, but that was pretty common when school was out, and it allowed for a more relaxed atmosphere.

Once we were all seated and the meal was underway, Ben excused himself and headed to the bathroom. When he came back he turned and gave me this inexplicable grin. I looked at him questioningly, but didn't say anything. He promptly reached over to my lap, being sure to be as subtle as he could. I thought he was going to try to give me a hand job right here in front of everyone, but instead, I felt him drop a small plastic box on my lap. I looked down discretely and recognized it as a remote control of some sort.

I had never seen it before and looked at him again with uncertainty in my eyes. He leaned back and allowed one hand to slide down his crotch until it reached his taint, and raised his eyebrows to make his point. I suddenly realized what it was and my jaw dropped. His continued grin was a clear dare. Alright, I thought, if he wants to play this game, I'll give it a try. I waited until he was talking and sent him a quick pulse on the lowest setting. He flinched ever so slightly and shot me an evil grin. A few minutes later, as he was raising his fork to his mouth I sent him a stronger pulse and he visibly jumped. He had chosen the time and place, but I had to admit I was enjoying this more than I expected. I activated it a few more times while we were still at the table and enjoyed watching him squirm. As we were leaving the table I sent him a long pulse on a fairly high setting and he nearly fell over. “My toe,” he said, “I stubbed my toe.” But his eyes were rolling back in his head and it was clear to me that he was not in pain. We sat with the others in the living room for a brief visit and Ben held a pillow on his lap the whole time. Evidently the intermittent stimulation was giving him a boner. I sat across from him and smiled as I sent wave after wave of pleasure to him. He just gripped the pillow more tightly and tried to remain coherent. For the last few minutes before I suggested it was time to go I gave him a break so he could have a chance to minimize his embarrassment when he stood up.

Miss M. walked us to the door, and before she said goodnight she gave me a wink and said, “I'm glad it fits. Should be an interesting walk home.”

That it was. As soon as we were around the corner He slapped my shoulder and said, “Dammit, I almost stabbed myself with the fork at least three times, and you knew you were giving me a boner.”

“This was your idea. I was just doing what you wanted,” I laughed.

“Well you were enjoying that way too much.”

We continued walking in silence and when we were nearly home I added, “Yeah, I was enjoying that, but not as much as I'm going to enjoy this.” I set it to its highest setting and turned it on full blast.

He let out an astonished gasp a doubled over, reaching for his ass. “Oh my god!”

I laughed and said, “We should have got one of these a long time ago.”

He looked up with fire in his eyes and suddenly came charging towards me. I managed to stay ahead of him until I reached the front of the house. He finally caught me halfway up the stone steps. Pushing me down, he sat on top of me and wrested the remote control away from me. He turned it off and breathed a sigh of relief. “You're gonna pay for that,” he said with a smile, and leaned forward to kiss me. “I told you I wanted to do it on the front steps, and here we are." His dick was once again hard from the vibrator and he began to undo my pants, while grinding against my leg.

I kissed him back and began to pull off his shirt, when he suddenly stopped and looked up. At the top of the stairs an indistinct figure seemed to turn and retreat into the building.