Ups and Downs

Stepping Up

Ron, Kim, and I tried to keep ourselves busy the rest of that morning when Woody accompanied Mr. Block to the hospital following what appeared to be a heart attack. God knows we had enough work to do. The estate was a mess after the raucous and raunchy Halloween party. In addition to the usual paper cups and such strewn everywhere, there were used condoms throughout the house, on the patio, and in the barn and boathouse. I even found dried cum on the floor in my room, and I know I wasn’t the one who put it there. There was so much cum that it seemed like somebody had put together an impromptu bukkake party.

Ron and I did most of the clean-up because Kim was already at work planning the next big party, the annual Thanksgiving dinner for homeless gay kids. We were all looking forward to that event because most of us had been through some version of their experiences.

Still, it was hard to concentrate on anything but Mr. Block’s condition. We waited impatiently for Woody to call and reassure us that all was well. Lunch passed and then dinner with no word. Finally, Woody trudged through the door just as we were clearing the table. “Let me get you a plate,” said Kim.

“Thanks, Kim, but I’m not really hungry,” sighed Woody, but he did plop down at the table to give us a report on Mr. Block’s condition. Yes, it was a heart attack, he confirmed, and it was indeed serious, but the doctors were optimistic that the boss would recover. They just needed to keep him in the hospital for a few days for observation. Though we all breathed a sigh of relief, we still felt some apprehension, which would linger until we were absolutely sure that Mr. Block was all right.

“I can’t believe he had a heart attack,” I said. “He’s too young.”

“Well, he was blessed with a youthful appearance, but he is not quite as young as you might think,” said Woody. “He’s in his mid sixties.”

I was surprised, but, “Still,” I said, “That’s young to have a heart attack.”

“Heart trouble runs in his family,” explained Woody. “His father and grandfather died even younger from heart attacks.”

Naturally, we all asked what we could do to help, and Woody said that we should just continue to do our jobs, but we all agreed to take turns sitting with him at the hospital so that Woody could get some rest and maybe take care of the business of running the estate in Mr. Block’s absence.

The college guys who had come over to help with the post-party cleanup were as subdued all day as we were. Nobody was having sex, or even making out, around the pool. But once we conveyed the message that Mr. Block would be OK, some of the guys started getting frisky, and we perked up too. The three of us stripped down and jumped into the pool or hot tub, where we were quickly approached by randy boys eager to release their stresses of the day.

As I sat on the edge of the pool with my dick hanging down, a scruffy young man with long, wet hair that hung over his dark eyes swam up between my legs and began massaging them from the knee up to my groin. At the same time, another lad sat down behind me, spreading his legs around my hips. I could feel his cock growing and rubbing against my butt as he massaged my neck and shoulders. Gawd, I needed that.

When the guy at my back started kissing me on the neck and shoulders, the man in the pool took his cue and went down on my cock. As he sucked, the guy behind me pulled closer—I could feel his smooth, solid chest pressing against my back as his hands reached around and cupped my pecs. He alternated between rubbing them and teasing my nipples, which drove me wild. Reaching back, I pulled him around so that our faces met and our tongues explored each other’s salivating mouths. He gently leaned me back against the concrete pool deck and continued romancing me as the one in the pool lifted up my legs to reach my love hole, which he licked and probed with his fingers. As he did so, another eager stud approached, knelt down, and took my cock into his mouth. I was being ministered to on three fronts: my face, my dick, and my ass. All I needed was two more guys to work over my nipples and I would be reliving the night of my initiation. The only difference was that the tools being used on me were tongues, not dicks. But that was about to change.

Four guys lifted me up from the concrete deck and carried me over to a lounge chair where they resumed their activities, but with a twist. The tongue that had been exploring my mouth was replaced with a cock, and the tongue that had been licking my ass was replaced with another cock.

The guy fucking me was good—just the right balance between slow, deliberate probes and forceful thrusts. He was good, and he was good looking, but with every intrusion, I closed my eyes and thought of someone else—Tyler. What the fuck, Joe? You don’t really even know the guy. He fucked you once, and you can’t get him out of your mind? Get over it. You’ve got a nice hard dick in your ass. What difference does it make who it belongs to. Right now it belongs to you, so just relax and enjoy it. I did enjoy it, but I didn’t stop fantasizing about Tyler.

When the guy fucking my ass shot his wad deep inside my guts, I smiled up at the one who had been kissing me and fucking my face, and he got the message. He took his place at the other end of me and picked up where the other guy had left off. He was every bit as good as the first guy, and I loved feeling his juices shoot inside me to mix with the other pool of cum I had already taken. The rest of the evening turned into a round robin with guys taking their turns shoving their cocks into my mouth and then up my ass. I must have taken at least half a dozen loads, and I came twice myself before I took one of the guys by the hand and led him to my bedroom, where we fucked each other and then fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Over the next three days, Ron, Kim, and I tended to our daily chores and prepared for Mr. Block’s return. We didn’t see much of Woody. When he wasn’t at the hospital with the boss, he was holed up in his office taking care of business. He did check in with Kim from time to time just to make sure all the preparations for the Thanksgiving dinner were on track. Of course, he knew that Kim had everything under control. I think he just wanted to take his mind off of everything else for a few minutes.

Woody informed us that night that Mr. Block would be coming home the next day, and, naturally, we were all excited about his homecoming. We weren’t prepared for Woody’s call from the hospital.

“He’s had a stroke,” Woody lamented. “He’ll be here a few more days, and then we’ll see.” We learned later that Mr. Block was paralyzed on one side, and his speech was severely impaired. Clearly, he would need long-term care. Rather than put him in a rehab facility, Woody insisted on bringing him back to the estate, back to his home. He hired two full-time nurses who worked in shifts, and Kim, Ron, Woody, and I took turns relieving them from time to time.

A few days later, Woody pulled me aside after dinner and told me to have his Jaguar prepped the next day for an evening outing. “And I want you to run over to Brooks Brothers at the mall and pick up a suit,” he added. “François has all of our measurements now, so there’s no need for a fitting.” I always appreciated it when Woody gave me specific tasks to perform. It made me feel useful…like I actually belonged there.

The next morning I got up early and went right to prepping the Jag. I didn’t just wash it; I detailed it. It really wasn’t that dirty, but I wanted to make it immaculate for Woody. I didn’t know where he would be taking it, but I knew it must be something important.

With the Jag prepped, I took one of the Lexus cars to the mall to pick up the suit at Brooks Brothers. The suit turned out to be a tuxedo, so I surmised that Woody was either going to a formal affair or had a very, very hot date. François was delighted to see me at the men’s store and insisted on giving me a blow job. I was glad I had gotten an early start that morning, which gave me plenty of time to take François up on his offer.

When I got back to the estate, Woody was out, so I took the suit and laid it on his bed and left it. Later in the afternoon, he called and summoned me back to his suite. “I guess I didn’t make myself clear,” he said. “The tux is for you.”

“Wh…wh…” I stammered.

“Mr. Block was supposed to accept an award tonight. He has loads of them, but this one is special to him because it is for his contributions to LGBT youth. He doesn’t usually go to these affairs, but he was actually looking forward to this one. Obviously, he won’t be able to go tonight, so I have to go and accept the award in his honor, and since he had already made reservations for two, I figured I might as well take one of you guys with me.”

“Me?” I asked.

“Kim and Ron have already been to lots of these kinds of things, so it seemed like it was your turn.”

“Oh, OK,” I said, still somewhat speechless.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” he said. “Go try on your tux and get ready. The banquet isn’t until 7:30, but there’s a reception at 6:00, and we don’t want to be late,” he emphasized with a swat on my butt.

Since I had never worn a tuxedo before, I asked Kim to help me get dressed. He could get away from the kitchen because Ron was preparing dinner that night for Mr. Block and the two nurses, and he and Kim were planning to order a pizza and watch a movie later. He didn’t tell me that Zac was bringing over the edited video of our foursome with his brother Jack and Pete.

When I met Woody in the foyer, he looked absolutely stunning in his Armani tux. I thought he was the most handsome man I had ever seen in my life. In the garage, he directed me to the Jaguar. Of course we were taking the Jag; that’s why he had me prep it. I just hadn’t made the connection that Woody would be letting me ride in his precious Jag for the first time. Sitting next to that gorgeous man in our tuxes in a luxurious Jaguar, I had to pinch myself to convince myself that I wasn’t dreaming. Suddenly, Columbus, Georgia, seemed like a lifetime away.

At the historic Hotel del Coronado, all eyes at the reception turned to us when we entered the room. When I gasped, Woody whispered to me, “They’re gawking at you, Joe. Not me. They’ve all seen me before. You’re the one they are enthralled with.” Naturally, I was flattered, but I figured that’s all it was, flattery, so I shrugged it off.

The room was filled with luminaries from the worlds of entertainment, politics, and world commerce who had come to pay their respects to Arthur Block, and they all knew Woody on a first-name basis. One of them was a major motion picture star who I will simply refer to as Brad. “And who is this dashing young man?” Brad asked Woody.

“Walter,” Woody said to another man who was approaching, appearing to ignore the question from the Oscar-winning actor, “I was just telling Brad here about the newest rising star in the art world, Joe Campbell.”

“Oh, is that so?” asked Walter, somewhat skeptically. “You’re an art critic now, Woody?”

“No,” chuckled Woody. “But you don’t have to take my word for it. Just ask Brock Archer. He’s the one who introduced Mr. Campbell at the recent Greenwich Erotic Art Show.”

Of course, nothing Woody said was actually false, but I was taken aback and impressed at how deftly he spun the tale.

“Oh!” exclaimed the man known as Walter. “Then you must be the phenom that Youngblood was telling me about.” He was, I realized, referring to Mr. Youngblood, the director of the Leslie-Lohman Museum in New York City. “It seems that you made quite an impression back east.”

“Joe,” Woody said, turning to me. “Walter is on the board of the Tom of Finland Foundation in Los Angeles.” After we exchanged pleasantries, Woody added, “Say, Walter, Brad has just invited Joe up to L.A. in a couple of weeks. Maybe you would like to have him come over to Tom’s House while he’s in town and show you some of his sketches. I’m sure you’re going to want to arrange a showing of his work.”

Of course, Brad had issued no such invitation, but he smiled, seeming perfectly willing to play along with the ruse. “I’ll have my secretary call you,” Brad said to Walter, “when Joe and I have worked out a schedule.”

When Walter nodded and walked away, Brad whispered to me, “Maybe I should give my Oscar to Woody.”

I thanked him for not giving us away. “My pleasure,” he said. “Now let’s talk about your upcoming visit. I’m sure you have plans for Thanksgiving, as do I, but how about the first week of December?” As I looked at him in astonishment, he added, “And I have some friends who I know would love to see your sketches as well.”

Watching Woody work the room was an education in itself. I knew he was cool, but I was mesmerized at how smooth he was. I was even more impressed when he got up to accept the award for Mr. Block. From the first word, he had the audience eating out of the palm of his hand. He was funny, empathetic, warm, confident, persuasive, charming, and completely captivating. When he stepped off the dais, everyone wanted to shake his hand…and most wanted to get him into their beds, I’m sure.

As we walked back to the car following the ceremony, I told him how impressed I was, and I was surprised at his response. “I did this,” he said, “for Art. It’s the least I could do. But it’s exhausting. I just want to go home and crawl into bed and let the world go away.” And with that, he handed me the keys to the Jaguar and walked to the passenger side of the car. Once again, I was flabbergasted.

We both remained speechless on the drive home, but as we pulled into the driveway, I asked when I should return the rented tux to the store. “Oh, that’s not a rental,” he said. “That’s yours. You’ll need it again. And after tonight, I think you’re going to need it a lot.”

I thanked him for promoting my fledgling art career. “I only did what Art would have done had he been there,” he said. It may have sounded a bit dismissive, but I honestly think he was just being modest. As we entered the house and started to go our separate ways, I grabbed his hand and pulled him into a very firm embrace. Maybe I was being too forward, but I think he appreciated it. As we parted, I believe I saw tears forming in his eyes.

A couple of days later, about two weeks before the Thanksgiving dinner, Woody called Kim, Ron, and me into his office. “I’ve decided that we need more help around here,” he announced, “so I have decided to bring in another staff member temporarily.”

“Another nurse?” Ron asked.

“No,” replied Woody. “I need someone to help me with the business. He will also help out with the household chores when necessary, but he will mostly be working with me.”

Seeing the puzzled look on my face, he added, “Joe will also continue to work with me as needed and also with the new man, but he will be working on his art career too, so he won’t have as much free time as before.”

I felt reassured that Woody was not completely replacing me as his assistant, but I was also somewhat apprehensive about working with someone new. Would he be easy to work with or difficult? Would he be cute? Would he be versatile?

Suddenly, a door opened—not the one from the library or the one from Mr. Block’s office, but the one from Woody’s bedroom—and in walked the new man, his hair wet as if he had just stepped out of the shower. I was shocked to see Tyler stroll through that door.

To be continued