Avril’s Ploy

"And teach a class in it too," Troy responded.

"I do some special photography, for special clients. Hammond said at the table that you may have trouble coming up with tuition money. Maybe I can help. Do you have any tattoos? Any birthmarks or other blemishes on your body?"

Troy didn't answer and after a moment, Shelton went on. "Have you done any all-male porn films? There's good money in that."

"Time to mix and match again," Hammond said, cheerily as he gently pried Shelton off of Troy. Troy wasn't sure if Hammond had heard the proposition and intervened because of that or not, but Troy was relieved he'd shown up.

"It's time to get Gideon out on the floor, and you're the one to do it, Troy," Hammond said.

Troy wasn't as relieved anymore. He'd enjoyed the table conversation with the novelist—if one can enjoy exchanging griefs about missing partners—but he'd gotten the clear impression that the man didn't want to be here. And he didn't see it as his, Troy's, responsibility to jolly the man up. Of everyone here, Troy was the one who could understand why Grimes wouldn't be in a party mood.

It took Hammond to get the two dancing, but Grimes was polite enough about it. "I have clumsy feet," Grimes said. "Maybe it would be best if we went out in the conservatory."

They did and Troy found that Grimes didn't have clumsy feet at all—that he was a great dancer. Troy fit comfortably in his arms. There was a nice scent about the man—something pine and clean—and they resumed their conversation of how difficult life was for them now and how hard it was to fight loneliness. "And to make up for what the other did all of those years," Grimes said. "I'm a klutz at anything technical. I haven't bothered to look for the thermostat in my house since my wife died, and it's getting colder. I wouldn't know what to do with it if I did find it."

"I know what you mean," Troy responded. "Aaron was always saying the same thing—that he'd be lost without me. But I found that it's I who am lost. My apartment is spick and span from top to bottom but I miss what he brought to the relationship. I wish he was there, making his little messes that he didn't clean up and screwing up his home maintenance projects."

"I wouldn't know where to start on a home maintenance project," Grimes said.

They were dancing closer together, swaying with the music. Troy felt the heat coming off the man—the sexual heat. And were they close enough together that he could feel arousal in Gideon as well? Yes he thought so. But then, Grimes suddenly stopped and his hold loosened on Troy. He lowered his hand hold, although he didn't let go of Troy's hand. Rather he was squeezing it tighter. Troy looked up into Gideon's face, to see that the man was looking beyond him, and his eyes were big. Then Troy saw it too.

There was a space amid the tall tropical plants where a chaise lounge had been placed. The lighting was dim, but Troy was able to pick out three figures—all naked. He immediately knew why the Krogers clerk, Peter Lambert, had been invited to the party. He was stretched out on his back on the lounge bed, his legs raised and spread. Dale Hunter was crouched between his legs and over his body and was fucking him. Brad, naked, was standing beside them, stroking his cock and watching them fuck. Lambert was grabbing Dale's shoulders in his hands and was moving his pelvis in counter thrust to Dale's cock, fully participating in the fuck and taking Dale deep and hard. Brad moved closer to Lambert's face and the clerk opened his mouth to take in Brad's shaft.

Troy felt Gideon suck in breath, but he didn't move. He had his eyes glued to the sex scene. He was squeezing Troy's hand hard, but Troy couldn't feel the pain. He was equally glued to the spot at the surprise and shock of what he saw. As they watched, Hunter ejaculated and pulled himself off Lambert. As he pulled away, Brad was turning Lambert and raising the young man on his knees. He was holding Lambert from behind just as he had held Troy earlier in the wine cellar. Lambert was allowing himself to be manipulated into any position Brad wanted him in. Brad covered the young man's mouth with one hand, used the other to position his cock, and then snaked his arm around Lambert's belly. The clutching and release of his bulbous butt cheeks and movement of his pelvis were evidence that he was fucking the grocery store clerk with deep strokes. He was fucking Lambert just like he had fucked Troy earlier. Hunter stood by, working his cock.

Troy heard the rumbling in Grimes's throat and turned his face up to the novelists, only, surprisingly, to feel Grimes's lips on his. Troy instinctively opened his mouth to Grimes, and they kissed, hungrily, as Grimes pulled Troy close into his body. There was no mistaking feeling the urgency of the need of the novelist's body this time. Troy melted in the novelist's grasp.

But then Grimes released him, growled a "Sorry, so sorry. I didn't mean to . . . sorry," and he fled the conservatory. Troy stayed on for a few more minutes, watching Brad fucking the young man who obviously had been invited here to provide just this service for Hammond's guests. But he wasn't really seeing the sex scene. He was fixated on the urgency and neediness of Grimes's kiss.

When Troy entered the living room, he sought out Hammond and mumbled, still feeling numb. "Sorry, Avril, I need to leave. It's late and I have studying to do."

"Oh, what a shame." He made no effort to dissuade Troy. "Did you drive over?" Avril asked.

"Yes, yes I did."

"Then can you do a favor? Gideon says he has to go home now too, but I brought him over from his house. His car is in the shop. Would you be a dear and give him a ride home? He's upstairs retrieving his coat."

"Sure, I'd be happy to," Troy said. His insides were doing flip-flops. Did Avril set all of this up? Was Gideon Grimes in on this? Was this just something the two of them hatched up to get Troy hooked up with Grimes? No, that couldn't be. At least he couldn't imagine the novelist being in on the planning. He'd opened up so slowly and then he'd have to have been a great actor to have feigned the surprise at seeing Brad and Dale fucking the Krogers clerk.

Would taking Grimes up and ending up in his bed be a bad thing, though? Troy couldn't think of a single reason why it would be.

Grimes was coming down the stairs with his coat as Troy was going up the stairs to retrieve his. The man still looked like he was in shock and moved like a zombie.

"Avril has asked me to drive you home, Mr. Grimes," Troy said. "I'll just be a minute. I'll get my coat."

"Gideon. Call me Gideon. No mister." His tone was a monotone and the words came out stilted. But then he stopped and put a hand on Troy's forearm and whispered, "Sorry" again.

Troy said "Sure thing," as he went past Grimes on the stairs. He was embarrassed that Grimes repeated the apology. The kiss had aroused him. It wasn't anything to be sorry for as far as he was concerned. Was Grimes sorry he'd kissed Troy? He'd found the kiss wanting? Should Troy be insulted? Damned if he knew.

When he got to the top of the stairs, he saw why the man still seemed to be in shock. One of the bedroom doors was open to the hall—not the bedroom the coats were in but another one—and he could see Chan Tang, naked, straddling Tim MacDonald, also naked, on the bed. Tim was on his belly on the bed, his pelvis elevated on pillows, and his arms were stretched above his head, his hands clutching the rungs of the headboard overhead. The bed was rocking against the wall and Chan was riding Tim's ass hard. There was a wide-eyed expression on Tim's face and tears in his eyes. The man Chan had brought to the party, the history instructor, Cory Kavanagh, was sitting, knees folded into his chest, against the wall beside the bed, rocking back and forth and watching his partner hard fuck the young student.

* * * *

"Can you come in?" It came out as almost a plea. Troy had pulled up to the front of a substantial-looking old, wooden house, although one that needed attention. None of the leaves had been raked in the yard yet and a shutter was hanging askew on a window on the second story. He hesitated in answering. He felt he'd been in a marathon as he drove across town, into the countryside, and to the Civil War battle town of Port Republic, where two branches of the Shenandoah River met. Grimes had spoken the entire time about his wife Penny, what a saint she was, and how much of a loss she was to him. The man was throwing out conflicting—and, it seemed, conflicted—vibes. The kiss at Hammond's house had been genuine—needy—and Hammond had good as said that he and Grimes had been fuck buddies before Grimes met his wife.

But he'd repeatedly said he was sorry he'd kissed Troy. Was all of this talk about his perfect wife a barrier he was raising against Troy thinking he would now be interested in another man sexually? Troy was ready to move on but it certainly didn't seem like this guy was.

"Please," Grimes repeated, "do come in. It was good for me to talk about this. I've had it bottled up inside. And it's good that you listened. I'd like to return the favor, if you want to talk about Aaron." He touched Troy's arm as Troy gripped the wheel of the car with both hands, but immediately drew his fingers away as if Troy's arm was hot or he thought better of the gesture.

There was a pause, in which each man focused on the breathing of the other. "OK, for a few minutes," Troy answered. Who was he kidding? He'd stay long enough for Grimes to fuck him, if the guy could decide he was up to it. He knew that. He just didn't know if Grimes realized that yet. Something had happened between them. A surge of electric want had gone through them both in that kiss and in the shared observance of three men fucking that neither had pulled themselves away from immediately. A fuck was what they both needed. Troy wouldn't have said yes to coming in if he wasn't hoping for a fuck. There was something about this guy—he was special—if he could just decide what he wanted.

They walked up onto the front porch, close to each other, but not touching—purposely, Troy wondered, confused by the mixed signals. Grimes had trouble opening the front door—first because he seemed to be trembling too much to get the key in the slot and then because the door stuck a bit and he had to apply force to open it.

"It's stuck like this for a couple of weeks," Grimes said. "It must be the weather."

"I think it's more a loose hinge," Troy said, reaching up to touch the upper hinge. "I could fix that for you, I'm sure."

"You could?" Grimes asked, moving his hand up to cover Troy's, and looking down into the young man's face. They exchanged looks of raw need, but then Grimes looked and moved away and swung the door open. Once inside, though, and the door shut, Troy pulled Grimes around and close, reached up and cupped the back of the head of the older man, and pulled his face down to where their eyes met again. "Kiss me," he murmured. "I know you want to."

Without seeking agreement, Troy pulled Gideon's face down to his and took his lips in a tentative kiss. A growl came up from deep in Gideon's chest and he grabbed Troy by the waist and lifted and slammed the back of the smaller man against the wall by the door. He took over the kiss, hungrily pushing Troy's lips open with his and giving him tongue. Troy moaned.

When they came out of the kiss, Gideon's body relaxed and he set Troy's feet back down on the floor. He started to say something, a look in his eyes that Troy didn't want to see, but the student raised the fingers of a hand to Gideon's lips, and said, "Don't. Don't say you're sorry. Don't say it again. Don't be sorry for something we both want—that we both need."

Gideon gave him a wan smile and took a step away from him. "I'll go put the coffee on and then I want to listen to you talk of your life and circumstance. I've said enough tonight."

"Better that you turn the heat up," Troy said. "It's colder than a witch's tit in here."

"If I only knew where the thermostat was," Gideon said, showing that wan smile again. "It was something that Penny—"

"Shhh," Troy countered. "It's right here, on the wall beside my head. But I don't think that's the problem. Have you turned the system on yet for the season?"

"Turned the system on? That would have been something Penny would have done. And she—"

"Where's your heater?"

"In the basement . . . I think."

"You think? Jesus, you need a handyman here."

They both tensed and their eyes met. It was Troy who broke the awkwardness. He stripped off his coat and said, "I'll go exploring, starting with the basement. If the system's working at all, I'll get it turned on for you."

It took a while. The basement of the old house, which Gideon said had been standing here while a Civil War battle was being fought around it, was a rat's warren. No one had been down here and tidied up for some time. He eventually found the heating system, turned it on, and waited until it kicked in, which it did. When he came upstairs into the kitchen, the first thing he saw was a sink full of dirty dishes. The second thing was Gideon, standing over by a perking coffee pot. He had changed—stripped down. He was wearing a knee-length silk robe. And nothing else. His sash was loosely bound around his waist. It was open down to his navel, showing good muscle tone—excellent for a man his age—and a matting of salt-and-pepper hair that curled around his nipples and descended in a thin line to the sash. The lower part of the robe flared enough for Troy to see a trimmed bush and a jutting cock. The man was hung and was aroused.

Confused again by the mixed signals, Troy mumbled, "I got the heater started," and walked straight to the sink, searched in the cabinet beneath and found dish detergent, and started filling the sink with soapy water.

"I heard," Gideon said in a low, hoarse voice. "But I don't think we need any extra heat for a while."

He came in close behind Troy, who turned the water off and braced himself on arms stretched out to the side, hands gripping the edges of the counter. He moaned and turned his head to Gideon's possessing kiss. As they kissed, Gideon stripped Troy all the way down, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it off the young man's back, unbuckling and unzipping his trousers and slipping those and Troy's briefs to the floor. Troy stepped out of them as Gideon's hand cupped and weighed and measured Troy's balls and engorging cock with a hand.

"Nice," he murmured. "You have a beautiful body. So smooth, like marble."

Gideon took Troy's lips into another kiss. When he released them, he buried his face in the hollow of Troy's throat and repeated the compliment. "You're so nice, so young and beautiful. It's been so long. Can I? Will you let me? I need this so bad."

"Yes, oh yes," Troy murmured. He felt the insistence of the man at the small of his back and then lower, between his thighs. He squeezed his thighs on the long, thick shaft, and Gideon was dry humping him, similarly to, but more arousingly than Brad had done earlier, the side of the cock rubbing back and forth on Troy's hole. Troy felt himself blossoming open.

Heavy breathing took over anything they might have said. There was nothing to be said, really, and Gideon required no instruction or further permission. He was dominating Troy now—just as Aaron had dominated Troy. In matters of sex, Aaron had always dominated. That's how Troy had wanted it then. That's how Troy wanted it now.

He didn't want Gideon to ask for permission for anything again. He wanted Gideon to take whatever he wanted.

Gideon knelt behind him and grasped his hips, digging his thumbs into Troy's butt cheeks and spreading them open. With a moan, Troy widened his stance and Gideon buried his face in Troy's crack and ate out his ass. It was all smooth, deliberate . . . effective.

Gideon came back up close behind Troy and Troy saw, out of the corner of his eye, the split condom packet—Trojan Magnum Ribbed—flutter to the countertop. Grasping Troy's hips again, Gideon lifted the young man's feet off the floor. He was being lowered on the cock, which penetrated, penetrated, penetrated him, as Gideon wrapped an arm around his waist, Troy arched his torso back and grasped the back of Gideon's head in both his hands. He opened his mouth in a big O and blew bubbles, shuddered, panted hard, and came close to hyperventilating as the thick cock relentlessly invaded up his channel into the soft, vulnerable core of him, stretching him in its progress. The muscles of his passage walls began to ripple over the corkscrew effect of the ribbed condom sheathing a throbbing, steel-hard conquering weapon.

The cock in deep, and Troy fully vanquished, quivering and moaning, Gideon snaked his free hand around, grasped Troy's cock and balls, and began to stroke him off in the same slow, slightly off-beat rhythm of the deep fuck.

After a few minutes, Gideon pulled Troy away from the sink, laid him down on his side on the kitchen table, and slung Troy's right leg up his torso. Troy's left leg was hung over the back of a chair pulled up to the table. His left hand was clutching the edge of the table, holding him steady under the hard, long, quickening thrusts of Gideon's cock. He was squeezing Gideon's right bicep with his right hand. Gideon was stroking him off with his left hand. Gideon was taking him hard, deep, and vigorously, the rapidity of the thrusts increasing, becoming more frenzied, more demanding. It was all Gideon now, taking the younger man fully, mercilessly, and Troy loved it this way. No mixed signals or indecision now.

"Come for me," Gideon growled as he felt Troy tense up, and Troy responded as demanded. Then it was Gideon's turn to ejaculate, which he did in the condom deep inside Troy's ass.

Afterward, they sat next to each other on a leather sofa in the living room, coffee finally served. Gideon was in his silk robe, flared open, hiding nothing, half hard. Troy was just in his briefs. Gideon put his coffee cup down—Troy hadn't lifted his from the coffee table yet—and leaned over into Troy for a kiss, during which he ran his hand over Troy's chest, paying attention to the young man's taut nipples.

"I am sorry, if—" Gideon said, coming out of the kiss.

Once more Troy put his fingers to the man's mouth, and said, "No more 'sorry,' I told you. All sorrow and guilt are banished here. Neither one of us is sorry. There is no guilt in seizing what we want, no loved ones to betray." Then, "Are you going to fuck me again now?" he asked, "because you certainly can. I want you to."

"Eventually, I hope . . . if you want," Gideon answered. "It will take time, though. I'm an old man."

"You don't fuck like an old man. You don't feel like an old man." He had his hand encasing Gideon's long cock. The man was half hard and hardening more at Troy's touch. But Gideon pulled away and settled back in the sofa. Troy continued slow-stroking his shaft.

"I spilled my gut to you about my departed wife. Tell me about your Aaron."

"What is there to tell?" Troy said. "He was good to me—in all ways. He was good to me sexually like you just were."

"Your relationship. Were you yin and yang like I said Penny and I were. Were you different people, with different interests, but fit together perfectly when joined?"

"When you fucked me in the kitchen, I felt like we were one, synchronized machine, yes. And that's the way it was with Aaron and me too."

"Yes, but in other aspects of your relationship. I'm a drone. There's one thing I do well. I write well—and profitably. And I think I teach well—about writing, about nothing else. I'm technically clueless, and I don't keep schedules. That was all Penny. But she enjoyed it and she was content with me the way I am. Did you and Aaron fit like that—yin and yang, completing a perfect circle?"