Return to Fontlebois
Life in the city, now that Grant had graduated, resolved itself into work and business demand. Grant spent part of his day working in the gallery, and part trying to sell his artwork services as an illustrator or cover art creator. He was also looking for an ‘agent’, and there we eventually resorted to asking Pierre and Gus to help us.
“Certainly I know someone,” Pierre replied. “I will ask. He has a number of big names in his portfolio, but is very selective — only taking clients who share our fetish.” Pausing he let a mischievous smile cross his face. “He has been our guest at Fontlebois on occasion. I will invite him — he has some amusing tastes.”
“Amusing tastes?” Grant asked, then grinned. “Ah. Even for Fontlebois?”
“Even for Fontlebois,” Pierre replied. Raising his wine glass he smiled. “You have your portfolio with you?”
“The digitised version,” Grant responded. “I can do a few paper or canvas examples here, if you think it might persuade him.”
“Good. I’ll contact him tomorrow and invite him.” Exchanging an amused look with Gus, he added, “Perhaps we should suggest Andrew …?”
“After the last time?” Gus laughed. “I’m not sure Charles could survive another bout of Andrew. See what he says anyway.” Turning to me, Gus asked, “How long do you fellows plan to stay? It would be useful if you were here at least until the end of the month.”
“I’ve an appointment for the gallery next week. I could drive up, keep it and come straight back.” Suggesting it I thought of the tedium of the drive.
“Or you could fly up. What time is your appointment?” Gus asked.
“Fly?” I recalled that Gruntt did have an airport. “Yes, I guess I can get a taxi from the airport into town and back again. What commercial flights are there from here?”
“Give me the times and the date — I’ll have Meredith alert Tregarth, our pilot. He can fly you down to the little strip we use south of the city, and arrange a car to take you to your meeting.” Gus smiled. “He can then fly you home again in the evening.” Chuckling he sipped his wine. “That way Grant won’t have to be without you for a night either.”
So this was how Cedric and Ivar always managed to be at the flat or at Fontlebois ahead of us.
“Thanks.” I laughed. “I hadn’t realised we had our own aircraft. I thought Cedric and Ivar used a commercial service. I think we’ll make use of that in future.”
“From Gruntt? Only if you’re connecting at a major hub.” Gus laughed. “There’s only two flights a day to the Gruntt airfield if we’re going to the city. So we keep our own aircraft — and you don’t need my permission to use them. Just get Cedric to arrange it with Meredith any time you need it.” Gesturing, he grinned. “Another indulgence, but a useful one — especially when we need to help someone. And much more pleasant.”
“Bernhardt and his lovely partner will be here for lunch.” Pierre told us at breakfast. “He’s quite amusing, and a really good agent.” Laughing, he added. “Always insists on being accommodated in the Folly Dungeon — as a prisoner — and will discuss being your agent there, Grant.” He winked. “Take Ivar with you — he has an … unusual way of meeting new clients.”
“Take Ivar ..?” Grant began, then smiled. “Ah, my ‘squire’ … Okay.”
“Not quite, but you’ll see,” laughed Pierre.
A new footman, still a little nervous in his harness, boots and hood entered. Bowing to Gus and then Pierre, he said, “The guests are ready to see Mr Grant, my lord.”
“Thank you, Ned.” Gus smiled at the youngster as Grant stood. “Settling in alright?”
“Yes, sir, my lord.” Ned smiled briefly. “Everyone’s very helpful and and kind, my lord.” Hesitating, he added, “Erm, it’s been … strange dressing like this … I mean …”
“I expect so, Ned, but you’ve no need to hide your assets, and we hope you’ll be very happy here.” Gus told him. “Now, find Mr Grant’s valet — Ivar — and tell him to meet him at … the entrance to the Folly, Grant?”
“Yes,” Grant smiled at the footman. “Tell him I’m meeting the people I hope will be my agent … he’ll understand I think.”
The afternoon was, for me, busy. Grant didn’t join us for the usual tea at five, and when I raised it — and the absence of our guests — Pierre simply laughed.
“A good sign. Bernhardt must have taken to him. As I said, he has an unusual idea of negotiating with a new client.” Pierre smiled. “I think Grant may be enjoying the experience, which I hasten to explain, will not be sexual, though it will be erotic.”
“Sounds intriguing,” I replied. “You’ve had experience of this process yourself?”
“Me? No, but Bernhardt represents several of the artists the Fontlebois Trust helped achieve their true potential,” Pierre explained. “In fact he is himself, one.”
“Yes,” Gus explained. “One of my predecessor’s rescues.”
Gus was, I knew, rather proud of the rescue work and the opportunities the Trust provided to help youths with talent from backgrounds that gave them the opportunity to develop and break out of often self-destructive lifestyles. The conversation drifted into a discussion of how many fine minds and how many potential Einsteins, Da Vincis or Michaelangeloes were simply never recognised, or their potential developed.
We were just rising to go and change for dinner when the door opened and a pair of older men entered followed by a beaming Grant.
“You must be Guillaeume,” the taller of the men greeted me, offering his hand. “The family likeness is striking!” His handshake was firm, and his smile warm. His slim build and silver hair set off beautifully by his black latex catsuit. “May I introduce Paul — my gaoler and lover?”
“Paul,” I greeted, taking the offered hand. “Gaoler?”
“Shocking, isn't it?” Paul replied with a laugh. Younger than Bernhardt, he wore his rubber jeans and uniform style loose fitting rubber shirt with confidence. “I do my best … but with such a charming prisoner …”
We all laughed as Grant moved to stand beside me. Pecking me on the cheek, he squeezed my hand. “Miss me?” He whispered.
“Yes, love. And I expect a full report while we change for dinner.” Slipping my arm round his waist, I added, “Do I gather my beloved is now a client, Bernhardt?”
“Most certainly. I couldn’t allow anyone else to represent him.” Bernhardt’s smile widened as he studied us. “Do you know … the resemblance you both bear to the original Guillaeume and Cadow … remarkable.”
In our bed at last, I took my lover and partner in my arms and held him close. Our mouths met in a tender kiss, and lingered. Between us our ever eager cocks touched, for once the contact accidental as they hardened.
“Happy, my darling?” I murmured, my lips kissing the tip of his nose.
“With you in my arms, beloved? How could I not be?” Grant tilted his head back exposing his throat to my kisses. “As long as I have you, I could be happy anywhere. All I have wanted since I first saw you …”
His words touched my own feeling, it was the perfect echo of how I felt about him.
Our mouths met again and our tongues explored each other, then his hands caressed my back and the kiss intensified as his desire grew. We needed no words to explain or ask what we knew we wanted. Gradually he rolled onto his back drawing me onto his body as he spread his legs, our erections trapped between us.
“Take me, love,” he whispered as I nibbled his neck, kissing it in the soft tissue just where the jawbone ends. “I’ve wanted you inside me all afternoon …”
His hands gripped my shoulders as I positioned myself. I let him support my weight like this as he lifted his hips and I slid a pillow beneath him. Slowly, carefully, I lowered myself as he smiled up at me. My ‘head’ touched his tight puckered opening and he bit his lips as he pushed his hips to meet my penetration. Gently I maintained my pressure, feeling his muscle yielding, stretching to admit me.
With a sigh, he clamped his legs over my back as I slid deep.
“Oh god … you feel so good …” Opening his eyes, he smiled as I paused. “My master, My Guillaeume, my lord … thank you for everything, but, most of all for loving me …”
Lowering my face to his, I kissed those beautiful lips.
“How could I not my beautiful Grant? My Cadow incarnate …” slowly I began to thrust, pacing myself, wanting to make this last. Wanting to remember this special moment, loving the restriction of his legs across my back, and his fingers digging into my flesh as I fucked him, his own erection trapped between us …
With a whimper, he came, his cum hot and slick on our flesh as I thrust myself deep inside him, my own cock erupting, pumping my sperm inside him, neither of us moving until it ceased. We remained joined like this as my erection softened and slowly slipped out of his opening. He lowered his legs, his arms tight around me as we kissed. Tears wet his cheeks, and I kissed them away as we lay in our tight embrace.
“Why the tears, my love?” I asked softly. “Did I hurt you? Have I ..?”
“No …” He sobbed. “You could never hurt me, my darling.” His smile lit his face. “Silly, isn’t it? I’m the luckiest, happiest man on Earth. And I still can’t believe it … that we’re bound to each other, to this place … If this is a curse … it’s one I count as a blessing. Today I asked Ivar if he sometimes wished he was ‘free’ and could do as he liked.”
“And what did he say?”
“That he’d want to do exactly what he is doing, and be exactly what he is …” Pausing he watched my face. “I know what he means.” His arms tightened. “Do I satisfy you as your partner?”
“More than that, my darling.” Kissing his tear stained face, I smiled. “You’re the most important person in my life. I couldn’t be me without you.” Our kiss lingered. “Nothing else matters.”
Eventually we slept. Grant now had his degree, an agent and a market for his work. For my part I had the affairs of Fontlebois to master and my lover and partner at my side -- Grant, my willing, mischievous and inventive 'Cadow.'
Fontlebois had its heirs.
