Ups and Downs

Holidays and Holy Daze

Ron, Kim, and I stood up and greeted Tyler with hearty handshakes and verbal salutations. Tyler was known to all of us, and we were all delighted to know that he would be with us—at least for a while—though I was taken aback by the fact that Tyler had entered the room from Woody’s suite. Were the two of them an item? Was this the end of my chances with either of them?

“I persuaded Tyler’s boss, who also happens to be Mr. Block’s publisher, to loan Tyler to us for a few weeks,” explained Woody. “As you all know, Tyler lived here with us while he was getting his degree in English lit from UC-San Diego, so he’s very familiar with the place and our operations. We won’t have to spend any time bringing him up to speed.”

I spent most of the morning helping Kim make arrangements for the Thanksgiving dinner, which, I discovered, were actually two dinners. On Thanksgiving day, we would be hosting LGBT kids from local shelters and foster homes as well as some who were just living on the streets. The second party, the day after Thanksgiving, would be for college kids who could not go home for the holiday, either because home was too far away (as with some foreign exchange students) or because they had been disowned by their families. I was assigned the task of checking with those facilities and the local Pride organization to make sure that we had up-to-date head counts and that the necessary transportation was in place.

“Can you spare a couple of hours this afternoon to help me with some things?” Tyler asked me at lunch. Of course, I said I could. Apparently, Woody had dumped a load of work on Tyler—phone calls and correspondence that had been neglected for more than a month, appointments to be rescheduled or cancelled, travel plans that had to be rearranged, and solicitations to be accepted or rejected. Working side by side with Tyler was challenging. On the one hand, I was delighted to be so close to him; on the other hand, I was frustrated that I could not get even closer. My hormones were giving me fits.

After dinner, Tyler went back to his duties while I focused on my artwork.

That night after I stripped down and crawled into bed, my mind raced with thoughts of Woody and Tyler. For about 15 minutes, I just lay there stroking my rod gently as I fantasized about my two favorite men. Finally, I decided to get up and walk out on my balcony to see what might be going on around the pool below. As I watched some of the college kids fooling around and humping, I heard a knock on my door. “Come in,” I said, not even thinking about the fact that I was stark naked and sporting a hard-on—hell, everybody at the Block estate had seen me naked at one time or another, and most had seen me with an erection, either at a distance or up close and personal.

“Good. You’re up,” teased Tyler, grinning at my protruding manhood.

“Hey, Tyler. What’s up? Uh…what can I do for you?”

“I’m here to collect.

“Collect what?”

“Have you forgotten the night of your initiation here?” Tyler asked, walking toward me.

“Hell no!” I replied. “I’ll never forget that night.”

“Good,” he chuckled. “Then you should remember that you owe me one.” And before I could reply, he grabbed my dick with one hand, gripped the back of my neck with the other, and pulled me into a deep, passionate kiss that left me weak in the knees.

Since I was putty in his hands at that point, he lifted me off the floor, carried me to my bed, and threw me upon it, diving in after me and planting more wet kisses all over my face. Before I knew what had hit me, he was down on my cock, sucking it for all its worth. I moaned in blissful agony. Soon, his aggression turned to submission.

He rolled over onto his back, lifted up his knees, and commanded, “Fuck me. Fuck me like I fucked you.”

I didn’t need any coaxing. I rammed my stiff rod deep into his love channel and pounded like my life depended on it. After several minutes, though, I looked down at his beautiful face and remembered what had attracted me to him in the first place. It was his compassion. During my initiation, even though the sex was rough, it was also loving.

I didn’t stop fucking, but I did slow down, and with my dick high up his ass, I leaned forward and kissed him lovingly. I planted butterfly kisses all over his face, including his eyelids. I nibbled on his ear lobes and licked across his neck. When I returned to his mouth, he was ready for me, opening wide to allow my entrance. As we deep kissed, the passion flared, consuming both of us. I picked up the pace, driving my dick harder, faster, and deeper into his love canal. We didn’t just fuck, we made love, but we did it like two feral animals in heat. With no hands on his dick—neither his nor mine—Tyler shot streams of white cream all over his belly and chest. And I followed suit, blasting my love seed deep into his private sanctum. It was more than sex, it was a holy union.

I collapsed on top of him and quickly fell asleep in his arms. I thought we should talk, but when I awoke the, next morning, he was gone.

On the days leading up to Thanksgiving, he would slip into my room almost every night, but I knew that he was also sleeping with Woody. I was confused, but whenever I tried to bring up the nature of our relationship, he would change the subject or find other ways to evade the issues.

Thanksgiving was an absolute delight. The kids gorged themselves on the food, coming back for seconds and even thirds. Zac played holiday songs as the kids sang along or danced. Woody had hired a polar bear to play Santa Claus, who gave each kid a gift card for a shopping spree at Target. (Mr. Block had always been adamant about patronizing businesses that supported LGBT rights and avoiding those that did not, and Woody seemed determined to continue this tradition.)

The whole scene played out again the next day at the party for the college students. The only difference was that the college kids…well, they did what horny college students do.

Though Mr. Block was not able to attend either party, he sent his greetings, and Woody reminded everyone that even during difficult times, we were blessed to have one another.

On Saturday morning, none of us wanted breakfast; we were still stuffed from the previous two days. Tyler participated in all the festivities, but on Saturday morning he flew back to San Francisco to take care of his own personal business that he had been neglecting for two weeks.  On Sunday morning, I was awakened early by a familiar, ominous sound—the shrill wrenching of sirens approaching the front gate. As I had done before, I raced down the stairs just to see EMTs loading a gurney onto the ambulance and Woody climbing in behind them.

Kim, Ron, and I busied ourselves cleaning up the place after the weekend’s revelry, but we thought of nothing but Mr. Block’s condition. Finally, a few minutes after 11:00 p.m., Woody came straggling in. We all rushed to meet him and receive news of Mr. Block’s health. “He’s gone,” Woody announced meekly. “He had another massive heart attack, and there was nothing the doctors could do.”

The news hit all of us like a ton of bricks. We all offered Woody our condolences before Ron broke down and Kim had to guide him upstairs to his room. Woody retreated to his own room, and I just wandered around the house bumping into furniture. Just before midnight, I found myself strolling into Woody’s room, where I saw him staring vacantly out his window. “Please forgive the interruption,” I said. “I just wanted to see if there is anything I can do for you.”

Without speaking, Woody just gestured for me to come closer, and when I did, he threw his arms around me and hugged me tightly. I held him closely. “I know how much he meant to you,” I consoled.

“He was like a father to me,” Woody replied. “I don’t know what I’ll do without him.”

“What can I do?” I asked. Without saying a word, Woody took my hand and led me over to his bed where he kissed me, pouring his whole heart into the gesture. He removed my shirt and then my shoes, pants, and underwear. Gently seating me on the edge of his bed, he kissed a trail down my body to my crotch, falling to his knees and taking my dick into his mouth. Of course, I grew hard in no time.

Upon rising, he kissed me again and began removing his own clothes. I had always imagined that if we were ever to have sex, he would take me. Instead, he straddled my body and lowered himself onto my erect pole.

As he rode me vigorously, he placed his hands on my chest and then leaned forward, gripping my wrists and wrapping my arms around him. He wanted to be held, and I was happy to oblige—not for my own pleasure, but because I knew that he just needed someone at that moment. I was glad that I was able to be there for him, but I harbored no illusions. He might have chosen anybody to comfort him in this way. He chose me simply because I was there. As much as I might have wanted to mean more to him, I knew that it was not so and not meant to be.

Even so, he was immensely handsome and sexy as hell. The fact that he was so vulnerable at that moment did not diminish his attractiveness but enhanced it, stimulating me all the more. I tried to hold out for his benefit but could not hold back and shot my seed deep inside him. Despite the tears forming in his eyes, he smiled ever so slightly, lifted himself off of me, lay down beside me, nestling his head against my chest and again pulling my arm around him. We both fell asleep with him in my embrace.

The next morning, I awoke in his bed…alone. I comported myself back to my room, showered, got dressed, went down to breakfast, and took up my chores as I did every morning as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Upon hearing the news of Mr. Block’s passing, Tyler rushed back to San Diego and helped Woody with funeral arrangements and plans for memorial services. We saw very little of the two of them leading up to the funeral. Oh, they were around, but they kept mostly to themselves. Was Woody ashamed of having slept with me? Did he feel that I had taken advantage of him in a moment of weakness? Did Woody tell Tyler about our night together, and was Tyler thus avoiding me out of jealousy or anger? I felt very awkward and even questioned if I still belonged at the estate. Was it time for me to move along? After my dad had thrown me out, Mr. Block and Woody had been my salvation, but maybe it had just been a period of calm in the storm. Maybe it was time for me to fend for myself again.

Rafael flew back from Spain for the funeral along with Ambassador Papa and all the other men who had attended the dinner in New York. George Clooney, Chris Evans, and the actor introduced to me at the banquet as Brad were among the many Hollywood celebrities in attendance. “Are you still coming up to L.A. next weekend?” Brad asked me.

“Well, under the circumstances, I’m not sure—

“He’ll be there,” Woody interrupted, almost sternly, before walking away. Was he encouraging me, or was he just trying to get rid of me?

After the funeral, Woody called all of the staff into his office. “You may be wondering if things are going to change now that Arthur is no longer with us. The answer is no. The estate has been amply provided for, and that includes your salaries and benefits. He has left behind a number of paintings that have been scheduled for various art shows, and there are several unpublished novels, including some that will undoubtedly be made into movies. His commitment to LGBT youth will continue thanks to a trust fund that he established in his will. Of course, none of it will be quite the same without him, but he would insist that we carry on his work, and so we shall.”

The following Friday, I drove one of the Lexuses up to Brad’s estate in Los Angeles. I had thought of inviting Ron, Kim, or even Tyler to go with me, but they were needed to prep the estate for upcoming Christmas and New Year’s parties, so I took the piano-playing hunk Zac with me instead.

Brad’s Beverly Hills mansion was just what you might expect for a box-office star—a grand stairway that led from the foyer to the second floor and eight bedrooms to accommodate not only Zac and me but several other weekend celebrity guests. Original artwork, including several Brock Archers, adorned the walls.

Brad took an immediate liking to Zac, and when Zac played and sang for Brad’s guests, he practically became a star overnight. Several of the Hollywood elite asked for his phone number, either to engage him to play for their upcoming parties, to enlist him for their artistic endeavors, or to get him into their beds, and Zac was readily amenable to all offers. Since Zac’s brother Jack lived in L.A., Brad insisted that Zac call him and invite him over to join the party Saturday night. Many of the guests were definitely turned on with the prospect of having sex with the two gorgeous identical twins.

 Like Zac, I had sex with several of those celebrities that weekend, but I also got a chance to show off some of my sketches, which proved to be very popular. I sold several pieces, and a number of people asked about commissioning works from me. I even got an offer from a movie producer to work on the art design for his upcoming movie—the same producer who recruited Zac to work on the music for that movie.

On Sunday, before returning to San Diego, Zac and I went to Tom’s House, the headquarters of the Tom of Finland Foundation and the house where Touko Valio Laaksonen, a.k.a. Tom of Finland, spent the last years of his life. Not only did I get to show off my sketches again, but I also got a tour of the place, including the extensive archives and the famous Pleasure Garden, and I got to meet the two artists who were currently in residence, a sculptor from Estonia and a mixed-media artist from Thailand. I invited them to our upcoming New Year’s Eve party, and they accepted enthusiastically.

Back at the Block estate, Ron and Kim greeted Zac and me warmly and asked us to relate the highlights of our weekend, especially the sexual escapades. We gladly shared those stories and even demonstrated some of the moves we had learned, much to Ron and Kim’s delight.

The two weeks leading up to Christmas were hardly exciting. Aside from carrying out my regular duties and assisting Ron and Kim with theirs when needed, I focused mostly on my artwork. There were always opportunities for sex, and I took advantage of them whenever I felt like it, but somehow it just didn’t seem quite as fulfilling as before.

Most of the planning was for the New Year’s party since no big event was slated for Christmas. Kim prepared a spectacular Christmas dinner for our little “family”—Woody, Tyler, Kim, Ron, and me. A few presents were exchanged on Christmas Day and phone calls were made to family and friends—the ones who had not rejected us.

The day after Christmas Woody called me into his office. Seated behind his official-looking desk and speaking in his “boss voice,” he started out by reminding me that my probationary period had come to an end, and then he stood up, walked around the desk, looked me straight in the eye, and said, “You know we have a very strict rule here: no fraternizing between management and staff. You broke that rule a couple of weeks ago. Consequently, I can no longer have you working here and living upstairs.”

“What? You’re firing me?”

To be continued