He'd been their friend.
He'd been their lover.
And now he'd become their enemy.
Paolo Bautista had been through the ringer lately, and this pulsing, sexual interlude was just the release he'd been looking for. Who he was having sex with, well, that was just the added bonus to everything. He heard the man cry out with orgasm again, and Paolo felt his own climax begin to build. The man came first, his condom-wrapped cock bursting inside him, Paolo feeling every spurt. Oh, shit, he was close, so close. . .
The man pulled out, exhausted.
Paolo pushed him onto his stomach, exposing the man's hairy ass. He jerked at his cock, feeling the heat rush through his hard shaft, ready to burst from the pulsing head. . . he stroked, fast, fast, harder, harder, and then he felt his first release since he'd witnessed Parker and Marc fucking, and the intensity was the same, this overwhelming sense of life being bigger than any of them, that power was something to be harnessed but also to be released. He shuddered loudly, watched as his cock exploded, white hot bursts shooting on the patch of hair at the small of the man's back, watching as it leaked down into his crack, disappearing as though shamed.
“Fuck, that was hot,” the man said, “love how you came on me.”
“Yeah, you're a sexy guy,” Paolo said, his breath returning to normal after his shattering climax. “It's just what I needed today. Thanks, Troy.”
* * * *
That night, when all was quiet and even the moon was nowhere to be seen, Paolo Bautista returned to Eldon Court, the cul-de-sac feeling foreign to him. He parked his car, and rather than go inside to a home that would soon not be his, he ventured down the rocky bluff to the beach below. The night was cool, but Paolo was still warmed from another, more acrobatic sexual exchange with the elusive Troy Saunders, who seemed none the wiser of whom he'd fucked. So now, when Paolo sat down on the sand and felt the trails of waves touch his feet, he felt vitally alive. He could actually smile at all he'd accomplished today.
Just then his cell phone buzzed and he reached for it.
A text message.
“Have huge news. See you soon.”
That's all it said. But it was who had sent it that intrigued Paolo. Dane, Aaron's brother.
Paolo hoped it was good news, after all they'd been through they sure could use some. The idea of Aaron's brother returning to Wonderland, it filled him with sudden regret, wondering if he'd done the right thing today with Danvers, and then with Troy. He was tired of the duplicity, but even as he tried to convince himself he was done with it he'd only upped the ante. When the person you hugged, embraced, fucked, and then climaxed over had motives you could never see or guess, you had to suppose they thought the same thing. Was that was it was between Marc and Parker, between Paolo and all of his friends? We all wear masks, Paolo thought, hiding our true selves, and only when they came off did you know who was friend, who was enemy.
What next?
* * * *
[Back to Table of Contents]
* * *
Part Four
“Ex's and Oh's”
By Jeff Wilcox
* * * *
They clutched each other so tightly it hurt, but no mere physical discomfort could match their tortured emotions—one had just lost a sibling and the second, a significant other. Aaron's absence echoed through Paolo's heart, reverberating with a sting that punished him with sorrow and guilt. Dane, on the other hand, felt adrift, unsure of how to manage the anguish he was drowning in and afraid of the anger pushing up from deep inside.
“We can't let him win, you know. Converse has to pay!” Dane broke from Paolo, sensing his neighbor's reluctance. Dane shook him. “We've got to see this through. For Aaron.”
A sob escaped Paolo's throat. Dane was right. In Latino culture, familia was everything. Aaron wasn't just Dane's flesh and blood;he was Paolo's entire family. And here he had been willing to give Converse what he wanted and run away. Away from the home he and Aaron once shared. He burned with shame.
Paolo looked at Dane now with clearer eyes. His neighbor had changed. His eyes were hard and focused, yes. But there was something else. The way he carried himself was more confident. And wasn't his physique a little more filled out?
“Let me fill you in.” Dane described what he and Sawyer had been up to since the funeral. Sawyer wanted to buy a gun but Dane refused. “Look where that got Aaron.”
That's when Dylan DeMille, Dane's gay-for-pay video star offered to help. Turns out, there was more to the former college football player than met the eye, though his mountainous pectorals, 17-inch guns and rather impressive basket certainly demanded attention. What no one could see was his proficiency in MCMAP.
“MC Map? Is that a rap artist?”
The hunk sighed, “Marine Corp Martial Arts Program. My brother was in the service and taught me whenever he was home.”
“What belt was he?”
Dylan smiled. “No belts in MC MAP. There's kick ass or get killed.”
Dane stepped forward, eyes level with Dylan's. “Teach me how to kill Danvers Converse.”
The porn star shook his head. “No, I won't do that. Don't YOU do that.” Then he smiled conspiratorially. “But I can show you how to defend yourselves.” Dane nodded with determination.
And so, living out of a San Francisco hotel with a decent and often empty health facility, they trained every day for two weeks. Starting with the basics: strikes, throws,holds, and chokes. After each day, the boys would drag their aching bodies off to bed. The wake-up call always came too soon.
* * * *
“I tell you, Dylan may be an animal in bed, but he's definitely not someone to fuck with.” Paolo's eyebrows rose at Dane's statement.
Dane smiled as he remembered one morning when Dylan had left them to practice hip throws, an effective maneuver that uses an opponent's own momentum against him. Dane started toward Sawyer in an aggressive manner, just as he was supposed to. Sawyer grabbed his lover's wrist and stepped forward. But his footing was wrong. As a result, they both fell to the mat, Dane on top.
“That. . . could have gone better,” Sawyer muttered between heavy breaths.
“I don't know. Feels good to me.”
And it did. A warm, reassuring sensation enveloped his groin. Dane's cock thickened and pushed forward, nudging Sawyer's dick through the fabric of his sweats. Sawyer's body acted in kind. It had been almost two weeks since they had sex. Neither could control their body's reaction now and neither wanted to. Dane had pinned Sawyer's hands above his head.
“Surrender.”
“Only to you, baby. Only to you.”
Dane covered Sawyer's mouth with his own, pushing his tongue to wrestle with Sawyer's. The boys moaned contentedly. Wanting more, they fumbled to strip each other, at the same time, refusing to break the kiss. Sawyer's hands struggled with the drawstring of Dane's sweatpants, finally breaking the damn thing. Dane snorted in amusement as his lover pushed the fabric down with his foot, forcing the sweats off.
Freed of clothing, Dane traced his tongue along the side of Sawyer's neckline and then across his smooth chest. Sawyer released a gasp. His muscles tensed. Dane stopped at a nipple, licked it once, twice, and then gently bit down.
“Ahhhhhhh, son of a—”
Dane looked up at his partner's cry.
“WELL DON'T STOP!” The model screamed.
Dane resumed, determined to torture his lover more. Make him beg to be fucked. The model contorted as Dane slowly, deliberately, licked and nibbled his way along Sawyer's ribcage, then down to his pelvic region. Soon, his nose reached his boyfriend's groin.
“Aw, yeah. Yeah!”
For a moment, nothing happened. A drop of sweat slid from Sawyer's forehead. The anticipation of what would come next was driving him crazy. And then Dane's tongue darted out, connecting with the sensitive tissue between Sawyer's balls and his upper left thigh. He screamed, not caring if it brought the hotel staff to investigate. Dane did it aga
in. And again. Sawyer tried to catch his breath, body writhing in elation.
He came in a geyser. He couldn't help himself. Moreover, he couldn't stop. Semen shot from his swollen dick in volcanic spurts.
“Well,” laughed Dane. “I didn't see that coming.”
“That's because your head was buried in my crotch.” He began to sit up but Dane pushed him back down to the mat.
“We're not done yet, lover.” He pointed to his own dick. Sawyer stroked it as Dane proceeded to lick up every drop of come on his partner's stomach and chest. Then, in a surprise move, he turned Sawyer over and used his come-slicked tongue to probe Sawyer's ass. In and out it went, loosening the model's puckered hole. “Uh, UH!” Sawyer grunted like a metronome, keeping time with each swipe.
Slowly, that magical tongue began to trace its way up Sawyer's back. Higher and higher, using his backbone as a guide. Sawyer's skin tingled with delight.
As Dane reached Sawyer's neck, his thick cock penetrated the folds of his lover's asshole. The model pushed his hips back and accepted the meat that began to fill him up. Skewering him.
When Dane had pushed his entire length into his lover, he leaned forward and gently kissed Sawyer on the back of the head. Then, reaching around to hug the model close, he began to pump Sawyer's ass. In seconds, they found their rhythm. Dane could feel the come begin to rise in his nuts. He threw himself harder and harder into his lover, plowing him for all he was worth. The sound of their love-cries and the brutal slapping of skin again skin bounced off the stark walls of the room. In short order, Dane had fucked Sawyer off the mat and against the mirrored walls of the gym. They rose to stand upright, Sawyer never releasing the grip his sphincter had on Dane's cock.
“Yeah, that's right, squeeze it. Don't let me go!” Dane grabbed Sawyer's hips and drove himself into the depths of his partner. It felt so fucking good.
“Ohhhhh, fuck me.” Sawyer's face pushed against the mirror. He was taken by the look of sheer satisfaction in his reflection.
“I'm going to shoot, baby!”
As Dane came inside of his lover, the motion of Sawyer's dick rubbing against the smooth mirror, slick with pre-come, proved too much for the model. He released ropes of thick goo onto his reflection. They stood there for several minutes, shuddering.
By the time Dylan returned, they had just finished dressing. The smell of sex was heavy in the room. “How's it going?”
“I whipped his ass!” boasted Dane. And then his sweats, lacking a drawstring, fell down around his ankles.
* * * *
Dane continued his story. “We returned to Wonderland and stopped in The Rabbit Hole for a drink.” Paolo knew the place. It was an upscale piano bar on the eastern side of town. Not as popular as Mad Hatter's Bar. A sign on the door read: “Drink this!”
“I turn around and who do I see?” Paolo couldn't begin to guess. “Rose Emerson! You know, the actress? ‘Killing may be in my blood. . .'”
Paolo finished the sentence, “'. . .but I'll take the bubblies any day.’ Right.”
“The red hair. I think that's what drew my attention. And she's just as classy today as she ever was. Carries herself like. . .”
“A queen?”
Dane nodded. And then, with a moment of thought, gave his late brother's lover a suspicious look. “Yeah, how did you know?”
“Well. . . not to steal your thunder, but she's already made her debut here at Eldon Court.” While Dane picked up his jaw from the floor, Paolo brought him up to speed on the role no one knew Rose Emerson had played—that of mother to Parker St. John.
“Parker?”
“She was George Saunders’ mistress.”
Dane snapped his fingers. “That explains why she was so interested in us.” He and Sawyer had approached Emerson, wanting only to express their admiration. She turned to them, hesitantly, as though wishing for privacy. But ever the starlet, politely took a moment to thank the boys, asking if they were local film enthusiasts.
Oh yes, assured Sawyer. “We live here in Wonderland.”
“Up on Eldon Court,” Dane offered.
With a flourish, Rose Emerson turned toward them fully, eyes sparkling, as though this young couple was the only reason she'd stopped by. “Eldon Court! What a beautiful place. Do you two live together up in Eldon Court?” She continued before they could answer, “Well of course you do. Such a handsome couple.” She eyed Sawyer. “You are stunning-looking, young man. Let me guess: Actor?”
Sawyer blushed. “Model.”
“Well, these days, what's the difference?” Rose cackled at her own wittiness. “Listen, gentlemen, I was about to have a nightcap . . .”
“Ms. Emerson, we'd be honored if you'd join us.”
She agreed on the condition that they call her “Rose.” One drink turned to two. Then four. Soon the trio was gabbing like old friends. Rose mentioned she once lived in Wonderland, also, and was only too happy to relate some stories about the old days. That is, until Dane's cell phone rang.
Sawyer watched as his lover answered the phone. “Hello,” was the only word he spoke. Then his face reddened. A minute later, Dane set the phone down.
“Bad news?”
Dane looked at the former actress and nodded grimly.
Rose Emerson reached out and squeezed the young couple's joined hands. “Do tell.”
The call had been from Kyle Montana, who had performed in a gay video for Dane's porn site, Straight to Bed. Emerson smiled with mild approval at the name. Dane explained that the kid had suddenly changed his mind about appearing online with another man.
“So you're an auteur. I sensed a connection between us.”
“With all due respect, Ms. Emer—Rose. I make porn.”
“The film industry is rife with prostitution.” She nodded to him with deference. “Some people have the courage to call a spade and spade.” Rose leaned forward. “Did he sign a release?”
Dane nodded. “Yes, and he was paid. But that wasn't the end of it.” He explained that their house had been broken into and all of his equipment had been stolen. Since then, he and Sawyer had been waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Rose blinked in confusion.
Sawyer sighed, “We filmed ourselves having sex and that was also on the computer. I'm not out to anybody except the guys on Eldon Court. My career . . . my family. . . I could lose everything if—”
Dane looked at him with regret. “He has the video and wants money in return for the file.” They were to meet in two hours at an address on the edge of town.
“Blackmail?”
“I'm afraid so, Rose.” Dane pursed his lips. “How much money do we have?”
“You can't pay! What if he has other copies?” The older woman thought for a moment and then brightened. “Boys, you seem to have followed my career a bit. Do you remember Cat and Mouse?”
“I have that movie on DVD.” It clicked with Dane. “You played a rich woman who turns the tables on a man blackmailing her over an affair.”
“Dear boy.” Rose smiled at Dane. “We started shooting that film without a finished script. Things changed by the day on the set. And it was then I learned that the writer has the power. He calls the shots, not the director.” She smiled self-consciously. “I made him fall for me and then convinced him add to several plot points I wanted in the film.”
“That's great, Rose, but...”
Rose looked at Dane but tilted her head toward Sawyer. “He's cute, but slow on the uptake.” She playfully slapped Sawyer's hand. “The writer has the power. So change the script, kid! May I borrow your phone?” Dane gave it to her. Five minutes later, she returned it with mock innocence. “Did I also mention that it helps to have connections?”
“We can't thank you enough, Rose.”
“Good luck, gentlemen.” She stood gracefully. “And thank you for an engaging evening. I almost forgot how magical Wonderland can be.” The actress shifted a finger between the two of them. “Don't you forget it either.”
* * * *
Despite the whimsy that people associate with Lewis Carroll's book, bolstered by a colorful interpretation by the Walt Disney Company, Alice in Wonderland was really about a dark place where a group of neighbors lived, each stranger and stranger than the other. Wonderland, California also had its dark spots. What some would call “the bad side of the tracks.”
The rendezvous with Kyle Montana was over there.
Like the frightening and sometimes dangerous inhabitants of Wonderland that trailed Alice on her journey home, Dane and Sawyer soon realized that they too were being stalked—by a dark car, a Lincoln or a Caddy.
Sawyer glanced in the rear-view mirror. “They're not too close, but they're definitely tailing us.” He looked over to Dane. “Hang on. I'm going to try and lose them.”
Gradually, Sawyer increased speed. The Porsche responded without its engine revving and giving the plan away. Before their pursuer was aware of it, Sawyer had a good five-block lead. That was when he made a hard left and stepped harder on the accelerator. Now the engine growled, ready for some high-performance driving. The tires gripped the road as Sawyer progressed through a series of maneuvers.
The driver of the dark car screeched to a halt. Before him was a maze of empty streets. After a moment of indecision, he proceeded slowly, like a jungle cat stalking its prey. Wherever the Porsche had gone, chances were he would come across it sooner or later.
“Down!” Sawyer pushed Dane's head into his lap, his own body protectively hunched over his lover's. The black car crept by the darkened Porsche, now parked between a Chevy Suburban and a beat-up Toyota Camry.
A minute later, Sawyer straightened, cautiously looking out the tinted windshield. “I don't see him but he could be back.” He squinted at his watch. They still had forty-five minutes before they were to meet Kyle. “Let's sit here for a while.”
Dane had no such intention of just sitting there. He'd already found something to focus on: Sawyer's basket.
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