0 comments/ 27034 views/ 1 favorites Just One Of Those Things By: whisperdirty Sophie looked up from her correspondence as the butler entered the conservatory, bearing a card on a silver tray. "A... visitor, madam," he sniffed, his supercilious tone showing exactly what he thought of the caller. "I told you I was not at home this evening," she said, annoyed, picking up the card. "The gentleman was rather – insistent, madam." "Oh?" Sophie glanced at the white card with a little more interest. P. O'Grady, it declaimed in a simple, bold typeface. The address beneath the name was one that she recognised from recent weeks: the lair of all informers and private investigators and crooked cops. So, they'd sent an investigator after her, had they? She smiled, flicking the card onto the tea tray. Well, she knew how to deal with him. "Show him in, Harris," she ordered, returning to her letters. Phil O'Grady dropped his hat onto the mahogany sideboard when the butler refused – politely – to take it, an indication of how long he was going to get here. He looked around the lobby with interest, noting the faded Persian rugs and the careless scatter of antiques. This neighbourhood was a touch above him; several touches, really, but he was unconcerned. He didn't want friends in these circles. Old money was usually washed in the blood of innocents; anyone who claimed otherwise was a liar. "This way. Sir." Phil almost smiled. The butler had it down to a fine art, that balance between cold servility and outright rudeness, and he wondered if the master of the house was any more approachable. Probably not. He followed the flunkey along the panelled corridor and out through a heavy set of glass and gilt doors, into what he supposed some people would call a conservatory. It was more of a winter garden, he thought, blinking at the hothouse temperature and staring round at the lilies and orchids and heavy ferns that grew within the glass walls. Above his head hung a row of cages, filled with tiny songbirds hopping from perch to perch, trilling at one another over the swish of water from the fountain in the centre of the room. "Mr O'Grady, madam," the butler announced, deliberately mispronouncing the name. "Thank you, Harris. You may go." Phil turned his attention to the woman seated on the edge of chaise lounge by the coffee table. A tray of tea things lay beside her: fine bone china, a bowl of sugar cubes, a silver tea strainer. Tucked between the cup and the teapot were a pile of letters and a small gilt letter-opener. She was pretending to ignore him, finishing her letter with a studied disregard for good manners, so he carried on looking at her. She was voluptuous, obviously not one of those women who thought to de-sex themselves by starvation into the waif-like scrawniness so beloved by the previous decade. She wore a soft woollen suit of olive green that screamed understated elegance; her kid shoes dyed the same shade. Her dark red hair was rolled into a loose pleat at the back of her neck, but one or two strands had escaped and were curling in the heat of the room. Finally she looked up at him, laying aside her letter to regard him with appraising hazel eyes. She had a feline face, closed and secretive; and Phil felt a little uneasy suddenly as she stared at him, finding himself wondering what she was thinking. Sophie leaned back slightly against the tiny gold cushions, assessing his worth. The dark charcoal suit was at least two years old, but had clearly been expertly tailored for him, accentuating the breadth of his shoulders and the sweep of his narrow waist, the length of his legs. The shirt she recognised as pure Jermyn Street; the shoes soft Italian leather. The dark blue silk tie defeated her, so she gave up trying to label his clothes, already categorising him: he comes into money, he loses it; cautious, but not overly so... She noted the plain black watch at his wrist – time was merely something to be observed, not lingered over – then studied his face with the abstraction of a connoisseur. He was a beautiful man, she decided; but then, she had seen many beautiful men. Still, he was worthy of a second glance. He had savage, slightly slanting eyes the shade of polished steel and the darkest hair she'd seen, like ebony sunlight. No tame city boy, this; he carried with him the suggestion of some misplaced wild thing, out of time, out of luck. "Mr O'Grady. What brings you here?" Most women would have displayed more than a modicum of interest as to why a private investigator was doing the rounds, but this puss was completely unruffled. Phil realised that she was either in this foul business right up to her pretty little neck, or she was just very, very cool. "I came to see your husband, Mrs Rayworth," he said. Sophie smiled slowly, smoothing her skirt over her knees and watching as his eyes followed the gesture. "He is indisposed." "What do you mean?" She laid one hand to her white throat, fingering the double strand of pearls looped there, still smiling sweetly. "He works long hours. He needs his rest." Phil narrowed his gaze. "And you – help him to rest?" "It is in his best interests, don't you think, Mr O'Grady?" He came closer, pushing one hand into his pocket. "That depends, ma'am... Let's cut to the chase. For three weeks now, your husband's car has been seen outside Baxter's – a place I am sure you are unfamiliar with -" Sophie opened her eyes wide. "What makes you so sure?" Phil considered her. "I would not expect a lady of your quality to acknowledge such places," he said carefully. She chuckled. "I'm no lady, Mr O'Grady." She shifted in the chair, drawing one leg up over the other slowly with a whisper of silk stocking, and Phil's eyes darkened as the skirt rode up over her knees. This time she made no effort to adjust her dress. "Still," he continued, "this is a matter of some delicacy." "You're talking about the murders," she stated, as casually as if she were discussing shopping. "Can you provide an alibi for your husband for Monday last, Mrs Rayworth?" She stared him. "No." Phil hid his surprise well. "I see." "I doubt it." She got up and walked over to the birdcages behind him, setting one rocking gently so that the finch fluttered its wings. "I was out myself, Mr O'Grady. I took my husband's car and drove to Baxter's, where I smoked and drank and gambled and fucked all night." "Did you, indeed?" He was unimpressed. "Then maybe you met an Italian gentleman there, by the name of Agnetti -" Sophie laughed. "Yes, I did." Phil regarded her stonily. "Then you know he is dead?" She turned to face him, eyes blazing. "I killed him, Mr O'Grady." There was a beat, then he said calmly, "Much as I appreciate your honesty, Mrs Rayworth, I must point out that what you claim is impossible." She put her head to one side and looked at him, not at all offended by his words. "Why so? You think a woman is incapable of strangling a man with her bare hands?" Another pause, in which he struggled to remember what the lurid newspaper coverage had claimed, then he recovered himself. "Frankly, yes. A woman hasn't enough power to accomplish such an act." "She does when the man is willing," Sophie said lightly. Phil snorted. "Try again, ma'am. I admit, you could be the honey-trap, but the murderer? No. You surely wouldn't sully your lily-white hands." She held her hands out to him, amused. "Perhaps I wore gloves? Let me tell you, Mr O'Grady, that I do a lot of handling – but I don't touch." He gazed at her for several moments, then turned away, running one finger around the collar of his shirt. "Too hot in here?" she mocked. "Take your jacket off, Mr O'Grady." "I don't need your permission." He unbuttoned the jacket and took it off, tossing it over the end of the chaise lounge almost defiantly, then turned back the cuffs of his shirt and rolled the sleeves up. "Common enough for you, now?" Sophie considered him. "Not by a long shot." He brushed at his hair irritably. "That's what this is all about, isn't it – long shots." "If you want to kid yourself with that, that's fine." He folded his arms across his chest, shaking his head. "Why would you want to confess to me?" "Perhaps to see what you will do with me." "I told you – I don't believe you're capable of it. Cold-blooded murder..." Sophie began to move towards him. "Not cold-blooded, Mr O'Grady. Hot. Wild. Un crime passionnel, I believe it's called. And that's why you're here, isn't it?" Phil watched her shimmy closer to him, cursing the day he'd ever taken this job on. "I am here to make routine enquiries," he told her blandly, hoping it didn't sound as feeble as he thought it did. "Admit it. You're here because you want what they all got. You want it badly." His eyes glittered. "I hate pushy broads." "And I despise men who say one thing when they mean another." "You bitch." "That's more like it. Let's not be under any illusions here, Mr O'Grady." Now she far too close for comfort, and Phil took two steps backwards. "Hold it right there. Keep your hands where I can see them." She smiled at him. "So you've decided that I'm dangerous?" "You could be armed -" "You can check," she purred, challenging him. Phil glared at her, cautiously stepping behind her to avoid the blatant invitation in her eyes. He slid his hands over her arms, around her ribcage, followed the curve of her waist to sweep down the length of her thighs, trying to be as impersonal as possible. His good intentions crumbled as she took a step back, closer to the heat of his body. The coil of her hair hung heavy at the nape of her neck, and, with an almost automatic gesture, Phil reached up and began to pull out the pins that held it in place. Fascinated, he watched as the mass of long curls slipped over his fingers and tumbled against the starched white front of his shirt. "This is a bad idea," he murmured. "Yes, it is." His hand dropped down again to rest on her hip, and he brought his head forwards to nuzzle at her hair, his eyes closing as he breathed in the rich, musky scent that rose from her skin. "This is a very bad idea." He pressed the heel of his right hand against her pubis, his fingers splaying out and pushing down, and he was rewarded with a soft sound of pleasure. He increased the pressure, forcing her back against him, chuckling as she began to roll her hips back and forth. Her head tipped back and came to rest on his shoulder, her lips parting slightly as he moved his fingers. "I like your bad ideas," Sophie whispered, half-opening her eyes and gazing up at him. Phil slid both hands upward to cup her breasts beneath the wool, his palms rubbing fractionally over her nipples. He felt her flinch in response, her eyes going green with drowsy pleasure. He brushed his hands over her again, and she thrust her breasts forward impatiently. "What?" he murmured, his breath tickling the side of her face, stirring the tendrils of hair that lay against her neck. "Bastard," she said, still moving against him, her neat buttocks rubbing his growing arousal. "Touch me, you bastard." Phil splayed his fingers out and gently ran his thumbs over her nipples, feeling them tighten beneath the thin covering of the wool suit. "More," she hissed, still staring at him, her skin flushed faintly pink. He smiled down at her, tightening his fingers to pinch her nipples, and she gasped as the shock of it went through her. "Harder," she said, her head rolling back further to expose her long white throat, giving him a glimpse of pale flesh beneath the necklace, a hint of cleavage. Phil pinched harder, rolling her nipples between his fingers, and she collapsed back against him, trembling. Sophie raised her hands to cover his, forcing the right hand back down to press between her thighs again. "Oh. You like that," he commented, bending his head close to hers to breathe in her ear. He extended his middle finger, searching for her clitoris, brushing over the fabric of her skirt until she gasped and jerked in his arms. He pressed down, hard, and suddenly she twisted her body, raising her head, her lips brushing his jaw. "Kiss me," she whispered hoarsely. Phil moved his hand from her breast and caught her hair, tugging her head back further until she hissed in discomfort. He brought his mouth down on hers, bruising her lips, forcing his tongue between her teeth until she moaned, letting him in. Sophie drew away just slightly, licking at his open mouth, then as he kissed her again, she bit him, sinking her sharp little teeth into his lower lip. Phil swore, letting go of her as she drew blood. "Bitch," he said, eyes dark, and she laughed up at him, turning in his arms. "Yes." Sophie touched a finger to his split lip, pressing down, watching bright beads of blood seep out. "What does an informer's blood taste like, Mr O'Grady?" "What does a murderer's blood taste like?" he returned, drawing his head back from her hand, unable to look away as she licked his blood from her finger. Sophie pushed him backwards, towards the chaise lounge, and he allowed it. "So you think I am a murderer, after all." "No." She shook her head, her hair shimmering over her shoulders. "Allow me to convince you." "You have rules for this?" He sat down heavily on the couch, sinking back into the cushions, watching her as she began to unfasten the buttons of her jacket. "We all live by rules of somebody's making, Mr O'Grady... it's just that mine might not agree with yours," Sophie said conversationally, her jacket dropping to the floor. She smiled at the blaze of lust in his silvery eyes as he stared at her body, then unzipped her skirt and stepped out of it, standing before him in her pearls, her lacy underwear, silk stockings, and her heels. "White... how inappropriate," he said softly, pulling her towards him and running his fingers over the delicate lace of her bra. "I suppose you think I should wear red, like a slut?" she breathed, her hands on his shoulders as he circled first one nipple then the other with his tongue, nipping gently at her skin. She slid down onto the couch on top of him, his fingers tracing the line of her stocking-tops and making her shiver. "No... black... You're not a slut, Mrs Rayworth, no matter how many men you fuck. You have more class than that." She laughed, absurdly pleased. "A classy slut, then. Be careful, Mr O'Grady: I don't allow my men to pay me such tender compliments." "Then you are a fool; or rather, they are, for not insisting." "My men usually end up dead," she reminded him briefly. "So you keep telling me." She leaned over him, swiftly undoing his tie and pulling it from beneath his collar. Sophie wrapped it around one hand idly, then slid his braces off his shoulders and began to unbutton his shirt. Phil grasped her waist, settling her on top of him more comfortably, pulling her down to kiss her again, his hands in her hair. Sophie grasped his wrists, ran her tongue over the sensitive inner flesh, then unravelled his tie from her right hand and wove it under and around his wrists, pulling the ends tight. "You tied the others?" he asked huskily, forcing his fingers out at full stretch then twisting his hands down, trying to loosen the bonds. "It is the first requirement," she agreed, tightening the knot until the fabric turned his pale golden skin almost white where it bit into his flesh. "Always their tie?" Phil asked, wriggling his fingers. "Only if it is silk," Sophie explained. "Fluid, but with great strength. Like you, Mr O'Grady." His eyes glittered at the compliment, if that was what it was. "No more kinky stuff?" "Define 'kinky'," she said. "I could easily have blindfolded you: but I want to see the look in your eyes when I fuck you. And I could have gagged you: but I need to hear you moan for me." Sophie hooked a finger in the knot of his bonds and tugged, pulling his hands down over his belly to rest over his erection, his fingers laced together almost in an attitude of prayer. "Now," she said softly, raising herself up and straddling his hips, "I want you to make me come, Mr O'Grady." He swore. "Like this?" She nodded. "The second requirement. I take my pleasure first." His lips curved in a teasing smile. "Then maybe you would do something for me, before I do anything for you. You are still wearing far too much." Sophie laughed. "They all say that." She began to slide her underwear off. "And I bet they all say this, too: you can keep your stockings on." "Men are so predictable." "We have simple tastes, and are creatures of habit," Phil agreed, twisting his hands in his lap as she climbed back on top of him. She moaned as his knuckles brushed against her inner thighs. "That's why you're so easy to control," she said, encouraging him to raise his bound hands against her. She was hot and wet already, and Phil's knuckles slid up and down, pushing fractionally inside her then retreating, moving forwards to nudge at her clitoris again. His eyes darkened to stormy grey as he watched her move on his hands, reading the tension in her body, aware of every tremor that rippled through her. He turned his hands again, wriggling them into his lap so that his thumbs caught her, rubbed her, and then she began to move in earnest, circling her hips and beginning to pant a little. "Good?" he asked softly, and she glared at him, annoyed at being brought back. "You know you're good," she snapped, and he pressed down harder, working his thumbs faster, watching the blush of orgasm spread over her pale skin like a tide until she gasped, stiffened, straining against his hands for a heartbeat. Sophie stilled, sighing, and opened her eyes to gaze down at Phil's furious, excited expression. "You kill those others with frustration?" he asked. She laughed, rolling off him and dropping to her knees beside the couch. "No, Mr O'Grady, I killed them through excessive love," she said, reaching for his belt and unbuckling it. She played her fingers along the zipper of his trousers, then eased it down over his erection. "Oh," she said, coquettish, as his cock sprang free, "that's nice." Phil growled at her. Sophie sat back and raised one arm behind her head, lifting the string of pearls from around her neck and holding them stretched between both hands as if it were a cat's cradle. "Jesus Christ," Phil said hoarsely, his stomach muscles leaping as she began to loop the necklace about his cock, carefully wrapping every inch of him in pearls, leaving the remainder coiled loosely around the base of his erection. Sophie bent her head to kiss the very tip of his cock, her hand holding the pearls in place as she ran her tongue over the tiny slit that oozed sticky pre-cum. She moved her hand slowly, gently, and he gasped at the sensation of the pearls rolling over his shaft, clicking together. Phil bucked upwards, and groaned when she closed her hand tighter about him, pressing the pearls into the sensitive skin. "God," he muttered, thrusting against her hand, against the pearls that encased him, "oh God, that's amazing." "It gets better," she said, rising to her feet, her hand never leaving him, and she swung over to straddle him once more. "The third requirement: distraction." "Jesus Christ," Phil whimpered, eyes wide, as she lowered herself onto his cock, pearls and all. "Jesus fucking Christ!" She took him in, groaning at his size and the sensation of the pearls about him, then she squeezed her muscles tight and heard his whimper of amazement turn to a whine of pleasure. "Is that good?" she asked breathlessly. Phil could only nod dumbly, shuddering in reaction when she squeezed again, harder this time. He looked stunned, silvery-blue eyes huge in his face, and she was gripped by a lust so powerful she knew there could only be one outcome to this game. Just One of Those Things My friend and I had been friends for years, from all the way back in school. She knew that I was gay; we never kept any secrets from one another. She moved away when we were 21 to marry and we only got to see each other every once in a while. This one particular week She and I decided that She come to mine alone for a long weekend to go out, watch movies, chat and generally just catch up.. Not ever thinking anything would ever happen between us, but that was about to change... The Friday evening that She came over we decided to stay in, have a meal, a couple bottles of wine and watch movies. We ate our meal and had several glasses of wine, then we talked for what seemed like hours and by now the wine had started to take effect. Then out of the blue She asked me what it was like to kiss a woman. We had never really gone into too much detail about my relationships as there are some things you have to keep between yourself and your partner. This night I wanted to tell Her all. I told Her that a kiss from a woman was the most sensuous kiss that you could ever imagine; tender lips caressing your own, exploring and massaging with your tongue. She told me that She had always wanted to experience the kiss of a woman, that it was just one of those things you had to try just once. I looked at Her but ignored the comment.... We were just friends... right? She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, long dark hair, big brown eyes, slender body, perfectly shaped bre@sts... You know the type! I got up and poured more wine and went over to put on a DVD. We decided to watch a Scary film as all the others we had seen many times before. I dimmed the lights and took my seat on the sofa. She scooted over to where I was sitting, raised my arm and tucked Herself under it, Her head on my shoulder. She held a cushion in front of us "That's in case we get too scared" She said... Now I'm not one for getting scared at movies but I knew that she was. This was definitely a good thing as I was about to find out. A scary bit on the movie made Her flinch and tuck Her head against my bre@sts, Her arm went around me. I looked down at her and laughed. She looked up at me, lightly tapped me on the cheek "You're so bad to me, you know that". Still holding Her gaze, looking deeply into Her beautiful eyes, a smirk on my face, She suddenly made Her move. Sitting up and taking my face between both Her hands, She placed a soft gentle kiss on my lips. She pulled away almost as quickly as She had kissed me "Oh my god, I'm so, so sorry" was all that She could say. I couldn't resist the temptation. My hands went around her waist and pulled Her closer, my lips locking with Hers, parting my lips gently as my tongue glided against Her bottom lip. A moan escaped Her as one of Her hands went around to the back of my head pulling me closer as the kiss deepened and became passionate, Her tongue darting against mine. Her other hand came up to cup one of my bre@sts; I could feel the heat of her hand through the fabric of my top. She pulled away from the kiss, looked into my eyes and asked "Will you give me an experience I'll never forget?" I didn't answer. Instead my hand went to Her waist and under Her top; I felt the soft, delicate skin of Her tummy, moving further and further up before reaching Her beautiful full bre@sts, cupping each, playing and teasing until I could feel Her hard erect nipples through Her bra. She pushed my hands away, climbed off me and took hold of my hand, pulled me towards the door and led me up the stairs. We entered the bedroom and She stripped, leaving me stood staring at Her body in awe. She turned to me and said "Do you like what you see?" Her body was perfect. You wouldn't believe that She'd had three children. All I could do was smile, and from this She knew I liked what I saw. "OK" She said, "Your turn to strip. I want to see your body too". With that I stripped quickly and stood in front of Her while She eyed me up and down. "Mmmm, very nice". She walked over to me and took one of my nipples into Her juicy mouth. My knees went weak and I found it hard to stand at the feel of Her tongue lapping at my nipple, then switching and sucking hungrily on my other nipple, biting it gently and rolling Her tongue across it. I couldn't resist Her any longer. I placed a finger under Her chin and brought Her face up towards my mouth, kissing Her with so much passion. The heat inside me rising, I pulled Her towards the bed, pushed Her down on it and climbed on top of Her, my tongue still darting in and our of Her mouth, our pussies and bre@sts rubbing against each others. Pushing Her hair away from Her face, kissing my way down to Her neck, sensuously licking and gently sucking so not to leave any marks. My hand working its way down across Her tummy to Her now very wet pu$$y. Her pu$$y was so smooth. The thought crossed my mind that She shaved as if She'd planned to seduce me. I didn't care. My fingers gently parted Her lips, She moaned and I knew She was enjoying what I was doing to Her. I clawed my fingers and dragged them down Her inner thigh down to Her knee, then back up again, teasing across Her lips before dragging down the other leg and back up again to Her pu$$y. She arched Her back up towards my fingers, ready and waiting for me to enter Her. I slowly inserted one finger into Her wetness, Her hands clamped around my back pulling my body even tighter to Hers. Now inserting another finger and massaging Her c1it with my thumb. Thrusting deep and hard, in and out, feeling Her close to climax. I lowered my head and took Her swollen c1it into my mouth, sucking slowly and flicking my tongue over it, tasting Her sweet juices. A noise escaped from Her mouth and I knew She was close to org@sm. Now sucking harder, my fingers drenched with Her wetness. I felt Her start coming, Her body was shaking with delight and Her breathing heavy. I moved up Her body and lay down beside Her. Kissing Her, letting Her taste Herself on my lips, my tongue gently caressing Hers, waiting for Her to come down from the high that She was on. "Now your turn" She whispered. I told Her that she didn't have to if She'd rather not, but She just looked at me winked. Laying on the bed my legs open, She moved down and started to kiss the inside of my thighs, blowing my c1it, teasing me, before thrusting Her tongue deep into my hole. Lapping and sucking at my c1it, the sheer pleasure was almost too much. She looked up at me smiling, knowing I was intoxicated with pure ecstasy. Continuing to suck at my c1it She inserted 2 fingers deep inside me, moving in and out slowly, waiting on my reaction. I couldn't hold it any longer and I started to come. The feel of Her tongue on me while I was coming was indescribable. She pulled out Her fingers and moved up to kiss me, her bre@sts resting on mine. She whispered to me "Did you enjoy that as much as I did?" I looked into Her eyes and said "It was perfect. Are you sure you've never done that before?" She just smiled at me not giving me an answer. We continued until the early hours of the morning when we fell asleep in each others arms. In the morning when we awoke, we talked of the previous night and agreed that it would never happen again. We are still best of friends and we never regret one moment of that one lustful night. It's an experience She'll never forget and if the opportunity ever arises again... Who knows?!?!?! Just One of Those Things I stood with my lovely fiancée Jenna, one arm around her slender waist, pulling her against my side as we both smiled for the Tribune photographer. I let my hand drop when the shutter clicked, reminding myself not to frown at the scent of expensive perfume clinging to my suit. I had to admit we made a handsome couple, so I wouldn't be at all surprised if we ended up making the society page. This marriage meant so much to my family, and to hers, and I understood how important it was to play my part. And I played it like a master. Across the scrupulously manicured lawn I could see my father the State Senator in conversation with my future father, the Lieutenant Governor. Her father was a fire and brimstone social conservative whose support bolstered my more moderate father's legitimacy with the value voters. The fact was, my father would never move beyond state politics without the Lieutenant Governor's endorsement. Which this marriage would guarantee. It sounds bad, but the reality of it was I believed in my father. And this was the best way I knew of helping him. Jenna tilted her head up and I gave her a quick peck on the lips. Sometimes I worried that she was expecting more from this marriage than she should. I liked her, I really did. Loved her even. We'd been friends since we were kids, and we had always known that this is what we were meant for. I didn't resent her family or mine for pushing the marriage. I had gone along with it the same as everyone else. The Tomlisons and Wights had been in politics for generations. We knew how things worked. And I knew she wasn't in love with me any more than I was with her. But I was also well aware that when she looked at me she saw at least the potential for something more, and I hated knowing that I was bound to disappoint her. Sometimes I thought she must be a little thick. Didn't she wonder why we had never slept together, never even done more than kiss? Didn't she wonder why I was content waiting two and a half years to marry, until after I finished law school and passed the bar? Maybe it was her conservative "abstinence only" upbringing. Or maybe you just believe what you want to. It had been almost a year since I had been with a man, and I could feel that old itch creeping up on me again. I would resist for as long as I could, but it always ended the same way. I let my eyes scan the crowd, mentally undressing all the fit attractive men between twenty and forty. I would never try anything with any of my dad's friends, even the ones I knew or suspected would be interested, but I liked to look. My gaze caught on one of the servers, a young man about my age. There was something that held my attention, but I couldn't say what. It wasn't his appearance. Short and kind of hawkish with dark hair and eyes, he wasn't any more than average in the looks department. He met my eye and smiled. I looked away. Not much of a looker, but I had to admit he had a hell of a smile. I mingled with the guests, but whatever I did I kept coming back to this one guy. It was embarrassing because I could tell he knew why. At least he was help and not one of my dad's friends. The next time I looked at him he was already watching me. He smiled again, and nodded toward the ivy covered walled garden across the lawn. A moment later he walked off in that direction. Even though in my head I knew it was a monumentally bad idea, I only struggled with the decision for a moment. I would just talk to him. No harm in that. I waited a couple minutes, then set down my drink and excused myself from the bank CEO and his busty twenty-something wife. I entered the garden and found the server sitting on a bench, giving me the most mischievous look. This one was definitely trouble. I thought for a moment about going back to the party, but something about this guy had me in a twist. I gave him my most winning smile. "Hi, I'm Vince." He laughed, like there was some joke I wasn't getting. "Yeah." He stood up to shake my hand. "Jack." His hand was strong and calloused, his smell warm and manly, soap and light sweat. Nothing at all like my lovely fiancée. I found myself holding on to his hand longer than necessary. He didn't protest. Something was off, though I couldn't say what, something in the way he was looking at me. Like he expected something, and not just a proposition. In my head I knew I shouldn't be touching this with a ten foot pole. I was usually so careful. But I wasn't getting any warning bells, and I had come to trust my instincts when it came to men. I would just tiptoe around it. Maybe start out with some small talk. "So, you been doing this long?" "Picking up guys in hedge mazes?" His bluntness brought me back to reality. Where I realized I was still holding his hand. I tried to let go. "No, I mean working for the caterer..." He sniggered, but again I didn't get the joke. I was trying pretty hard by then to get my hand back, but for his size he was surprisingly strong. And God help me it turned me on. I bet under the penguin suit he was all wiry muscle and...damn it, why wouldn't he let go? He clasped my hand harder and shook his head with an evil grin. "Nuh uh stud." Then in one move he pulled our bodies into full contact, leaned forward, tilted his head up and pressed his lips to mine. It wasn't rough or forceful, but it was quick, and for a moment I was too shocked to struggle. But then my brain kicked in and I shoved him away. I put my hand to my mouth, still feeling the warmth and pressure of his lips. My head was spinning. I had had sex with men before, but never kissed one. And it had been...what? My heart was pounding, and not just in fear. My cock was straining uncomfortably in my slacks. Incredible. That was the word. Absolutely incredible. Jack hadn't moved. He was eyeing the exit, but still watching me with that sexy smile. I licked my lips, and I could taste him. In that moment my mind ceded control to my libido, and in spite of every piece of common sense I possessed I found myself grabbing a handful of the front of his shirt, drawing him to me, and kissing him full on the mouth. After a moment's shocked hesitation, he kissed me back. Feeling him respond made me let out a moan, and he took the opening to flick his tongue past my lips, brushing mine with the lightest touch that was like a bolt of electricity. I opened my mouth more, meeting his tongue with mine. I had spent the last few years since I discovered sex avoiding this very thing. I didn't kiss my sex partners, I touched them as little as possible, avoided eye contact, and left as soon as we were done. If I could get away with it I didn't even ask them their names. I didn't need this, to know what it was like. But that sure wasn't stopping me. Not that I think I was capable of stopping myself. The truth was that in that moment, if Jack had wanted, he could have had me then and there, a hundred yards away from all my dad's friends. Lucky for me he didn't. He pulled away with a smirk. "Just checking." He patted me on the shoulder and walked away. I stood for several moments in a mindless, lust induced catatonia before the realization of what had just happened crashed over me. I collapsed onto the bench. Not only had I kissed a man in a public place where anyone could have caught us, I had come on to a man who knew who I was. And, even if he hadn't known he did now because I had actually told him my goddamned name. I had never been this reckless before. Had I really gotten that desperate? I eventually returned to the party, ignoring Jack as he ignored me. I tried to settle the queasy feeling in my stomach by telling myself, even if he told anyone, who would they believe, a waiter or the son of an East Coast political dynasty? It was a disgusting thought and I hated myself for it, but found it comforting nonetheless. But nothing happened. No odd looks, no strange remarks from either the guests or the staff. By the time the fundraiser ended I was on edge, waiting for the shoe to fall. But it never did. That night I knew I needed to have sex. Cold showers and C-SPAN just weren't going to cut it anymore and I was, frankly, afraid to masturbate. If I elevated that kiss to a jack off fantasy there would be no getting rid of it. So I put on an old pair of jeans, a tee shirt and a ball cap. I scanned myself over in the mirror to make sure I looked as lower-middle class as possible, then took a cab to a gay club downtown. I had been there a couple times before. It was a good place because it was pretty blue collar and the type of guys who went there wouldn't recognize the Vice President much less the son of a Connecticut State Senator. The cabbie was giving me an odd looks so I had him stop three blocks away. Like I took a twenty minute cab ride to a bodega. I sat at the bar and ordered a beer, thinking as I did every time that it would have been so much better if I had never started this. I hadn't gone out looking for it the first time. Sure I looked, fantasized. But never planned on touching. It was my freshman year in college. I was young and naïve and by the time I realized what was happening it was too late to stop myself. I never saw the guy again, but from then on I was hooked. I sat sipping my beer, scrutinizing the crowd, but the only guys looking at me were checking me out. A couple older guys tried to hit on me right away, but I let them down politely. I wasn't exactly picky, but I knew I could do better without having to wait long. Sure enough, after ten minutes a moderately good looking Hispanic guy in his early thirties with broad shoulders and sun darkened skin sat down next to me. Probably worked outside, but unfortunately all I could smell was a little too much cologne. "Hi, my name's..." the music prevented me from hearing his name, but it didn't matter. "John," I replied, shaking his hand. It was rough and firm. The flare of heat in my groin told me this was the guy. "So, I haven't seen you around here before, are you..." "You want to get out of here?" I interrupted. I knew this part was dangerous. There are a lot of psychos out there. But I wasn't getting any weirdo vibes off this guy, and my instincts had never steered me wrong before. Besides, I was pretty damned desperate. He blinked. "Um, okay. My place or yours?" "There's a hotel a couple blocks away." He frowned and his eyes darted to my right hand. Soon, I thought, but not yet. Maybe he had been looking for something with a little more potential. But he didn't turn me down. I paid for both our drinks and we walked to the hotel. I had him check in while I waited out of view of the security cameras. As soon as we got to the room he tried to kiss me, and for the very first time since I had started having sex with men I wanted to. God help me I really wanted to. But more than that I needed to not make this any harder than it already was, so I turned away and the kiss landed on my cheek. He gave a resigned sigh. "Top or bottom?" I asked. "Either way." "Good." We took off our clothes and I sat him on the edge of the bed and rolled a condom onto him right before taking him into my mouth. He was a real gentleman and kept his hands at his sides, even as cried out in Spanish and blew into the latex that I had managed to lodge completely in my throat. I had a fleeting thought that he was probably a really nice guy. He even let me suck him long past the point he was squirming from the sensitivity. There was just something about sucking a guy off that always got me so fucking hot, and I knew just what I was going to do about it. I flipped him over onto his stomach, put a condom on, and pounded his round ass until I came. There was no eye contact and I only touched him where I grasped his hips, but it was still amazing to watch my cock slide into him, to hear his grunts and know he was enjoying it too. When I pulled out I was happy to see he was hard again so I crawled up on the bed on my hands and knees and he did the same to me, and I came a second time from feeling his fat cock fucking me. I showered and left still not knowing what his name was. ************** After the Labor Day weekend it was back to classes. I was a second year law student at a very old, very prestigious, very expensive East Coast University, a fact that that had far more to do with my last name than with any personal merit. I had managed to shove the weekend's events into the deep dark recesses of my mind, but as it turned out they weren't going to stay there for long. Because when I walked into Constitutional Law that afternoon I stopped dead just inside the doorway when it hit me why I hadn't been able to stop staring at that server Jack during my dad's fundraiser. There he was. Sitting in the front row in the seat nearest the entrance. He met my eyes with a huge smirk, reveling in my 'oh-shit' moment. "Oooh, there it is," he laughed. I broke eye contact and made a bee-line to the back row. I could not for the life of me concentrate during class. Twice Jack turned just enough to catch my eye and give me a wink. He clearly thought it was funny as hell, but I was started to sweat bullets. This stranger knew my most closely guarded secret. God only knew what he planned on doing with it. But somehow the feeling I kept coming back to was guilt. Jack was an obvious full scholarship. His clothes were supermarket store brand that fit his skinny frame poorly and his laptop was obsolete five years ago. Not to mention he had to work holidays at fancy events serving rich jerks like me who didn't even recognize him as one of their classmates. Even though I knew that the reason I hadn't recognized him was simply because he wasn't all that good looking, I cringed to imagine what he must think. As soon as class was over I rushed the exit, but slowed when I saw Jack talking with Julian Monaco, the informal captain of the Constitutional Law study group. I gave Jack the evil eye, but he just grinned at me innocent as could be. Julian turned around, missing my expression. "Hey, Vince. Do you know Jack Ulman?" "No," I rushed, at the same moment Jack said "Yes." "We've met briefly," explained Jack, suppressing a laugh. "Oh, okay. Well, Jack's going to be joining us for study group for the rest of the semester." "Oh. Good." I said through my teeth. Julian looked a little confused. "Yeah. Did you know that Jack's in the top five percent of the class?" "No. That's...really great. Just great. I'll see you tonight." "Okay, see you." I rushed out the door before he asked any questions. Jack was undoubtedly going to make it a nightmare, but any hope I had of staying off the bottom rung of the class depended on the study group. I would just have to play this by ear and hope my instincts would put me out on top. Jack I had been thinking for a while about joining the study group. I really preferred studying on my own, but there were some definite draws. Namely, clever, sweet, openly bisexual Julian Monaco. I'd had my eye on him since last semester, and if I was reading thing right I thought I might just stand a chance. He was definitely worth a try in any case. The opportunity to tease that closeted conservative prick Vince Tomlison just cinched it. He hid it better than most so I had only begun suspecting that he was gay last semester. Little things gave him away. When he seemed to be staring into space it was usually in the direction of one of the more attractive male students. He only checked out girls if he saw other guys checking them out first. And even then I hadn't been sure. Until his dad's fundraiser of course. If he had acknowledged or even recognized me I wouldn't have made a move on him, but he just kept digging himself in deeper, and when he asked me how long I had been a waiter, well, he brought it on himself. That bastard just bugged the crap out of me, and I relished the idea of keeping him dangling. Not exactly a mature attitude, I'll admit. The study group met twice a week at Julian's place. He had a loft apartment near campus that he had inherited from his grandparents (yeah he's old money, but at this university who wasn't?), almost obscenely big yet comfortable, even homey. I arrived early and was surprised to find Vince already there, deep in discussion with Julian about the topic of today's class. He was so distracted that he didn't notice me at first. "Hey Jack," Julian looked up at me with a broad smile. "Make yourself at home." I nodded and returned the smile. Even though there were a dozen spots at the table, I took the one directly across from Vince. He glared at me, but didn't say anything. "Thanks. Hey, where's the bathroom?" "End of the hall on the left." I used the bathroom, which was about half the size of my entire apartment, but when I opened the door Vince was standing there, glaring at me some more. I patted him on the shoulder. "All yours buddy." And tried to push past him. He grabbed my wrist. I expected a denial, possibly a threat. Maybe he was even going to hit me. It wouldn't be the first time. Some guys in the closet were wound pretty damned tight. I tugged back a little, but tapped down my defensive reflex. It wasn't going to help my chances with Julian if I got into a fight in his apartment five minutes after getting here. But Vince didn't do anything. For a long moment he just looked at me, pinning me down with those striking blue-gray eyes, sizing me up. I actually had to fight not to squirm. "Please," he finally whispered, "please don't tell anyone what happened." Wow. Didn't see that coming. So I ended up just standing there and staring at him. Of course I wasn't going to tell anyone, but some childish part of me couldn't help but toy with him. "Who would believe me even if I did, right?" From the guilty look that flashed across his face he had thought the same thing. "Look, I'm sorry, okay. I should have recognized you. It's not because...well, I'm just sorry." Yeah, I thought, sorry you got caught. He took a deep breath and continued. "And none of that...you know...should have happened." Denial. That was more like it. "Uh huh, I guess it was an accident, right? You're not gay, you were just confused, disoriented, or maybe you were drunk..." He caught me in a stony stare that made my mouth snap shut. "I'm not going to insult your intelligence by pretending that was anything other than what it was." He paused for a moment before continuing. "And, not that it's any of your business, but I wasn't confused, or disoriented, or drunk. In fact, I know exactly how I'm oriented. Sucks for me that particular orientation doesn't really fly with my dad's constituency. I said it shouldn't have happened, not that I didn't want it to." I was at a complete loss for words, which didn't happen very often. Of all the reactions I had gotten from closeted men over the years bald-faced honesty was definitely a new one. I shuffled my feet, avoiding his steady gaze and feeling every moment more like a stupid kid. I should be above this old game. Any desire to draw this out dissipated. "Sorry," I murmured, though I couldn't really say what I was apologizing for. "But you really look the part, you know?" "Yeah, that's kind of the idea. Well?" "I'm not going to out you, okay?" He ducked his head, forcing me to make eye contact again. "Promise?" That startled me. He was going to believe me on a promise? What, were we 19th Century country gentlemen? I studied his face. Yes, he was going to believe me. "I promise. Your secret's safe with me." He examined me for a long moment and I held his gaze. "Thanks." Then he released my wrist and walked away. Wow. I should have just let the whole thing drop. Maybe I found his honesty intriguing. It was something that I had never encountered before. Besides, I reasoned, just because I had promised not to out him didn't mean I couldn't still tease him at every opportunity. Just One of Those Things I spent the three hour study group rubbing my foot against his while he pretended not to notice. By the time we adjourned for the night his face was red, and from the way he was sitting, kind of hunched over, I suspected he had a hard on. It was almost funny that I could get such a gorgeous man so hot and bothered. So, forgetting my earlier conviction to act like an adult, I kept doing it. I teased him every chance I got, at school, at the study group, but we didn't actually speak a word to each other until two weeks later. At first I had grouped Vince in with the other spoiled entitled offspring of the upper crust. But over that time I had come to realize that Vince's poor academic performance was definitely not for lack of effort. I watched out of the corner of my eye as Julian spent half an hour trying to explain the same legal concept to him again and again. Most of the young future-masters-of-the-universe were happy to aim for 'barely passing.' I mean, why bother when your name was all you needed to open any door you could want? But Vince genuinely wanted to earn his place here. Finally, in barely concealed frustration, Julian suggested that Vince ask me, that I could probably explain it better. Vince apologized for at least the tenth time. I actually felt a pang of sympathy for the guy. Then, to my surprise, he took Julian's advice. Whatever else he was, he was really trying if he was willing to ask for my help. He stood next to my chair for a few seconds while I pretended not to notice. "Hey Jack?" I looked up at him and smiled. He flushed and took a deep breath. "Julian said you might be able to explain this to me." "Sure. Sit down." We spent ten minutes going over the difference between procedural and substantive due process, until I was satisfied he had a grasp on it. He was so lost in concentration that he seemed to forget who he was talking to. "Thanks." He said gathering up his things. "Seriously, it feels like all I do here is waste everyone's time. I'm sorry for the trouble. If there's anything I can do for you, just ask." "Sure. No problem." I was a little surprised, but not so much that I didn't make sure to brush his knee as he got up, drawing his attention to his unintentionally suggestive offer. He remembered our situation and frowned at me. For whatever reason I ended up helping him a lot over the next few weeks. I didn't mind. Academics always came easy to me. Besides, it gave me a chance to continue teasing him to my heart's content. I couldn't decide if he needed the help so badly that he was willing to endure my touches and innuendos, or if he secretly liked the thrill of being semi-flirted with by another man. I suspected it was a combination of both. But more than that I genuinely found him interesting. Enough that I was beginning to forget that my entire reason in joining the group was getting closer to Julian. Vince wasn't smart, at least not by Ivy League Law standards, but he worked harder than anyone else I knew. Unlike many of the other offspring of politicians and corporate titans who went around like the Ivy League was their birthright, he seemed painfully aware of not belonging here, and equally determined to earn his place fair and square. There was also the fact that he was hot as ..... It actually used to irritate me before I knew him. Like, it wasn't enough, the family, the money, the social status. But he got to look like some all-American Adonis on top of all that? But the more I knew him the more began to appreciate that he was as unaffected by his appearance as he was by his wealth and status. I was running out of reasons to keep teasing him when he finally took away the last one. One night he followed me to my car under the pretense of once more going over the constitutional underpinnings of judicial review. It was clear there was something else on his mind, so I waited fiddling with my keys until he finally came out with it. "I'm sorry I didn't recognize you at my dad's fundraiser." I couldn't help but smile, which made his cheeks turn red. I was really starting to like the way he blushed when I smiled at him. "It's just...I don't want you to think that the reason I didn't recognize you was because you're...you know..." "What? Working class?" In my case that was somewhat of a euphemism, as I was in fact poor as shit. "Yeah." "Isn't it?" "No, of course not! You have to understand, there are about five hundred faces I have to remember already - senators, congressmen, campaigners, contributors, lobbyists, spokesmen for special interest groups, not to mention all their spouses and children... This isn't an excuse. It's an explanation. You can go on thinking I'm a dick, just not for the wrong reason..." He finally caught my suppressed laugh. "You're teasing me again, aren't you?" I busted up and gave a 'little bit' gesture. He looked at the sky in a God-save-me gesture. "Honestly, the only people I know from school are the ones I have study group with. And not even all of them." "I bet you remember the hot ones. Trevor, that redhead two rows from the front in Con Law who always wears those super tight jeans?" I gave a low woofing noise. He laughed and nodded. "No joke. And that blonde guy who sits right behind him..." Mmm. How many fantasies have I had featuring those two. Usually together. Suddenly Vince's eyes opened wide in realization that he had all but admitted he didn't recognize me because I wasn't attractive. "Not that you're not..." he stuttered, "I mean, it's not like I don't think you...because I do...oh shit, I'm just going to stop talking." I snorted a laugh. "Yeah, I'm fighting them off with a pointy stick. Seriously Vince, I'm not delusional. You don't have to humor me." He gave me a piercing up and down look that said he hadn't been. Huh. Score one for my ego. And jack off fantasies. I guess I must be growing on him. I knew for sure that he was growing on me. "I understand you're not that guy." I said. "I'm sorry I ever thought you were." I looked him up and down and sighed. For the first time it really struck me what a damned shame it was how much his life was going to suck. For the rest of the night I couldn't get Vince out of my head. Until that day I honestly had never thought of him as attractive. Sure, he was hot. But I had known far too many hot assholes for that to be enough. But now I saw Vince as a good man, one who was genuinely doing what was right by him, and that pushed him right over into the sexy as hell category. I finally figured, why not? I took off my clothes, sprawled out naked on my bed and let myself fantasize about him. About where that kiss might have gone if I had let it. I let my hand encircle my semi hard dick, remembering how he had tasted, like expensive wine and something sweet he must have been eating at the party. I remembered the warm, solid feel of his body against mine, the unmistakable long, firm throbbing of his erection pressing against my stomach. He had gotten so fucking hard from that kiss it made me stiffen up just thinking about it. I switched over to pure fantasy as I imagined grabbing and rubbing his steely length through his expensive slacks. With my free hand I began unbuttoning his shirt from the top, and he helped me by un-tucking it from his pants. Neither move was very graceful considering how close we were. I felt a hot surge as I pictured his chest, broad with a light coating of auburn hair between his stiff pink nipples, picking up again below his belly button to disappear under his bulging slacks. I pulled away from his lips causing a grunt of protest, which was cut off when I ran my tongue over one of his sweet little buds, and the grunt was replaced by a muffled curse and a shudder. I was still rubbing him through his pants when his groping hand found my bulge. In a flash he had my belt unbuckled and my pants undone. With better access he reached in and began palming my erecting, reaching back to massage my balls with his long, talented fingers. I closed my eyes and groaned against his chest as I ripped his pants open. I shoved him back onto the park bench, where he landed with a surprised grunt. I straddled him, and leaned down to seal my mouth over his again. The kiss took on a whole new dynamic as we pressed together almost savagely. I couldn't wait any more, and neither could he. I fished his cock out of his underwear and began fisting it hard and fast. He did the same and moments later I had my hand wrapped around both of our lengths, stroking us together, while he had one hand in my shirt raking across my chest and the other behind my neck, pulling our mouths closer, deeper. He got to the edge first. I felt his body under me stiffen and shake, and I sped up my hand, only seconds away myself. He screamed into my mouth as he blew all over his stomach and my hand in five long, heavy pulses. I couldn't help pulling away a little to look at him. Oh, fuck did he look sexy covered in cum ... I groaned as ropes of semen splattered all over my stomach and chest. I lay for a couple minutes catching my breath and basking in the sleepy relaxed afterglow. Then I got cleaned up without thinking anything of it. Vince was a very attractive man, who, for some reason, seemed to think the same thing about me, which was definitely a turn on. From then on I kept teasing him not because I had any reason, but just because it was fun. Vince As the son of a fourth generation politician I had been exposed to some real gold standard lying-sons-of-bitches in my day, and as such had become an excellent judge of character. That's why I believed Jack when he said he'd keep my secret. And it's also why, in spite of myself, we were sort of becoming friends. I say sort of because for the life of me I couldn't decide if I liked Jack or hated him. He made me crazy, that much was for sure. The way he was always touching me, giving me those knowing looks, teasing me when nobody could hear. Maybe it was because I had never been really flirted with by another man, but that little bastard drove me right up the wall without breaking a sweat. I had gradually decided that he was more attractive than I had thought at first. His looks were the kind that grew on you the more you knew him. And he was really helping me out with school. After just a few weeks I was already optimistic about my exams. I might even get out of the bottom 25%. At the same time I was more than a little bit jealous of him. He put in less than half the study time than I did, but easily stayed at the top of the class. It didn't take me long to realize that I could probably count on one hand the people I knew who were smarter than him. I guess that explained the full ride scholarship. In any case, I found that the more I knew him, the more I couldn't stand him thinking I was some stuck up preppy asshole. That's when I tried to tell him why I hadn't recognized him at my dad's party, and ended up making a complete jackass out of myself. I seemed to do that a lot around him. ************** It had only been a few weeks and I was getting frustrated because that old itch, the need to be with another man, was back far ahead of schedule. I suspected that Jack's flirting with me had everything to do with it. So one day after class I asked him out for coffee, found a private spot, then asked him to stop. Jack, to his credit, was genuinely surprised. "Yeah, sure," he said, shaking his head. "I didn't realize it was bothering you like that. I'm really sorry man." "It's okay. It's just...the less I think about that sort of stuff the better." "That sort of stuff? You mean other men?" "Yeah." Jack leaned forward in his seat, his expression serious for a change. "Look Vince, this is none of my business. But you're a good guy. Everything bad I ever thought about you, you've managed to turn it on its head. You don't deserve to live like this. You shouldn't be so unhappy just to satisfy your family." "I'm not unhappy." Jack made an incredulous noise but I continued like I hadn't heard. "And my dad really isn't like that. He doesn't have any problem with gay people. Personally he's all for marriage equality, repealing Don't Ask, Don't Tell, the Defense of Marriage Act..." "He doesn't sound like a conservative to me." "He calls himself an Eisenhower Republican." Jack raised an eyebrow. "Really. That's why my brothers are named Ike and Dwight." "Lucky them. So, why are you named Vince?" Oh, great. I should have seen that coming. "Well..." I fiddled in my seat, "my mom really loved those cheesy horror movies from the fifties. You know, House of Wax, The Fly, House on Haunted Hill...come on, don't make me say it." He thought about it for a second, then burst out laughing. "Wait, Vincent Price? You were named after Vincent Price? Seriously?" "Really more of an inspiration..." That only made him laugh harder. Thank you mom. I sighed and let him get it all out before continuing. "You may not believe it, but socially he's pretty progressive." Of course that provoked the obvious question. "Well then, why doesn't he come out with it? This country isn't the same as it was twenty or even ten years ago." I of course knew the answer off the top of my head. "It's changing among young people, who unlucky for us don't vote. The day when it becomes politically feasible for conservatives to support equal rights is still a long way off." "What about Dick Cheney? He got away with having a gay kid." "Dick Cheney also got away with shooting a guy in the face. My dad just can't pull off that kind of audacity. Changing the rules just to suit himself. Trust me. I've gone over this a thousand times in my head." Jack gave me a skeptical look. I knew that look. Most people have the luxury of moral certainty when it comes to matters of principle. Not me, and not my dad. You have to take the system as it is and try to work within it. Some people, a special few, have the ability to change the system from within. But I was not one of those people, and neither was my dad. It's dirty, and ugly, and soul-crushing, but it's just what you have to do to get anything done. So I asked him, "You ever heard of Ginny Shelton?" He paused, nose wrinkling. "Is she that one that wants to reinstate the old anti-sodomy laws?" "Yeah. Well, she's also my dad's rival. If he doesn't get his share of the value voters then Connecticut gets Senator Shelton. And if it wasn't her, there's always some fire and brimstone social conservative waiting in the wings. If it wasn't her it could be someone else just as bad." I decided not to try to explain to him how I needed to marry Jenna to ensure her father's continuing political support. Something told me that wouldn't go over well. Jack waved his hand. "All right, even if I were to concede that, which I don't, it might not be crazy to expect your dad to be a dad. You keep saying how great he is. If nothing else you could tell him. You shouldn't have to go through this by yourself." That same old argument I had been having with myself for more than a decade now. But the answer never changed. "It's because he's a good man that I can't tell him. If he knew, he would want me to be happy, no matter what it did to him." I tried to ignore the fact that, contrary to my previous assertions, I had just admitted I wasn't happy. "And then what would happen? Even if it didn't destroy him outright, every defeat after that I would wonder, was it because of me? Was I an anchor around his neck? I would end up hating myself, and, even if I did find someone to be with, I would end up resenting him. I couldn't imagine living like that. Life in a political family, it's just different. Everything you do has consequences. You can't just think of yourself." Jack leaned back in his seat and huffed. "You mean, you can't think of yourself at all." "I am thinking about myself. Because the thing I care about most is seeing my dad be the great man I know he can be. I don't know if I'm smart enough to actually help him, but the least I can do is not be a liability. I know you don't believe this, but he can make life better for a whole lot of people. What he does affects the lives of three and a half million people. Maybe someday the entire country." It was so much bigger than just me. It was my family's legacy. It was influence that affected the lives of everyone in the state, and, God willing, someday everyone in the country. Lots of people were unhappy in their personal lives. At least my unhappiness would serve a greater purpose. Jack sat tapping his fingers on the tabletop, regarding me for a long time with a thoughtful expression. Finally he broke the silence. "I'm really sorry I teased you Vince. And I'm sorry that I kissed you. You've obviously got enough shit to deal with without me making it worse for you. It was stupid and immature and it should have never happened." I shrugged. "It's all right." "No, it really isn't." He got out a pen. "Look, I know you can't talk to your dad, but..." He scribbled his phone number on a napkin and handed it to me. "Call me. Any time." He moved like he was going to squeeze my shoulder, but caught himself. He finished his coffee in a couple gulps and left. It didn't take me long at all to take him up on his offer.