The Lion’s Pride: Chapter One

“Okay Carrick, we are on the same page right?” Malcolm’s brown eyes looked to his partner’s for confirmation. Malcolm was finishing the last of his oatmeal, his usual breakfast in the morning.

Looking at his lover with reserved amusement in his eyes Carrick responded, “Yes Mal, I will leave the office at four o’clock and rush over the school’s auditorium and watch all the little kiddies in their glory.” He had put the last slice of toast in his mouth after answering him.Generally, before his early morning workout, he drank his custom made nutritional supplement. Then, he always had coffee and a few slices of dry toast in the morning, as he sat for breakfast with Mal.

Carrick always loved to see Malcolm when he was all worked up about something.He was generally so calm and levelheaded.When Mal was doing something he was passionate about, there would be this endearing eagerness in his eyes and excitement that Carrick found so special, mostly because it was an expression so foreign from any emotion that he was usually able to conjure up.

Having been raised amongst one of society’s Elite families, Carrick was a man who guarded his emotions closely. His mother found out she was pregnant when she was forty and his father was ten years older than her.His life from an early age was filled with requirements, expectations and self-possession.After his father died, when Carrick was twenty, he has already been primed to run the complicated multitude of businesses that is Caudwell Industries, International, one of the ten most profitable businesses in the world.

Now at 38, he was known for his disarmingly good looks and a certain sternness that he brought to every aspect of his life, except their bedroom.All his acquaintances knew that once he had you locked in his sights, with his oddly lit pale, amber eyes, there was virtually no way to escape.

Malcolm arched his eye at Carrick as he reprimanded him for making fun of him, “First, they are not kiddies, they are young adults, who are in High School, and they have been busting their butts to create what I think is going to be a fantastic show.” Malcolm stood to rinse his bowl and place his dish in the dishwasher.“These kids have had next to no resources, but their ideas and their creativity are boundless.It has just been an unbelievable opportunity for me to work with them… and with Camille.”Mal added with a softer voice, as he leaned against the counter next to Carr.

Camille Carrick rolled his eyes and turned more directly to Malcolm.

It always almost took his breath away when he looked at his lover, the burnished ebony of his skin and the smooth swimmer’s line of his body never failed to make his cock give a subtle twitch.“Your crush on her would be a little disturbing, if I didn’t know that you are not into women.” Carrick related with a teasing smile.

Malcolm brushed up against his lover and whispered into his ear. “Carr we have had more than a few women in our bed, and if I remember clearly, we have been into all of them.” Then Mal pushed back but let his had stroke the inside of Carrick’s muscular thigh. “Just because when we first met my previous experience had only been with men, doesn’t mean I cannot appreciate a gorgeous, talented woman when I see one.Just think, my being with you, loving you, dealing with your various kinks, have broaden my sexual world view.”

Carrick turned from the breakfast island.As he adjusted his position, Malcolm’s hand briefly brushed the beginnings of his erection, in reaction his chest suddenly inhaled as he settled an audaciously sexy look on Malcolm.He could see Mal’s breathing start to catch as he realized what that look always meant.Mal began to glide backwards out of the kitchen, which triggered Carrick to stalk him with the same lion-like instincts, and intensity that his business opponents swore he was, until he had Malcolm’s back against the wall.

With his hands placed almost uncomfortably close to each of his lover’s ears he leaned in and whispered so softly that they each almost had to strain to hear, “Do not ever forget, you are mine.I never let go of what is mine.”Carrick leaned in and kissed Malcolm with so much force that Mal thought he would surely draw blood.As the shared their punishing kiss Carrick began to grind, what was now a full blown “hard-on” against Malcolm, making them a matching pair.

Carrick looked deep in Malcolm’s eyes as he moved his right hand to cup Mal’s length, through his pants, and lick the ridges in Mal’s left ear.Slowly he began to stroke Mal with a slow deliberate rhythm, thumbing the ridge around the tip of his penis. “And by the way, our inviting others into our bed is not about them, it is to add to our pleasure.”

Malcolm’s head fell back like a rag doll, the feel of Carrick’s hand and the rough brush of the fabric of his pants against his dick was too much. “Oh Shit, so much for getting to work on time.” He grabbed Carrick by his shirt lapels and thrust his tongue past his lips and tried his best to lick his partner’s tonsils.Carrick held Mal by the waist to steady himself during Malcolm’s launch.

In the silence all one could hear was the almost obscene sucking sounds they made while trying to best the other in controlling the other’s tongue.All the while they maneuvered their bodies to the long onyx colored, suede, couch in the living room.

All the while Carrick looked Malcolm in the eyes, as if he dared him to deny his ownership. Then something is his eyes softened and became tender.It was if, Carrick was telegraphing with his eyes all how much he loved and needed the man directly in front of him.Malcolm slipped from Carrick’s grasp and dropped to his knees and slowly unzipped Carrick’s pants, while he continued to make eye contact.Leisurely, the way he knew that he lover loved it, he drew Carrick’s penis into his mouth.

“Oh God Mal, you are killing me.”Carrick called out into the air around them, as he grabbed the back of the couch for support, all the while trying to hold back from directing Mal’s movements upon his penis.

First, Mal took little nips of cock, teasing him unmercifully.He loved the way Carr smelled.It wasn’t “like” anything. He just smelled like his strong, sexy, stubborn Carr.Then he began to tongue the head, all the time resisting his lover’s attempts to control his direction by trying to grab his head.

“Fuckin’ stop playing, and suck my dick,” roared Carr.

“God, you have no patience.”Malcolm said after he released Carr’s dick.He then slowly and sweetly began the motion that he knew he could win awards for.For several minutes he used his tongue, the slight grazing of his teeth, and then a pretty vicious twisting motion with his head until he felt the almost imperceptible clenching, tensing and then releasing motion from the man he loved most in the world.These telling signs always signaled that Carrick was about to find his release.

“Ahhhhh…..Oh fuck me….Oh fuck me…Yeeeees” Car whispered to his lover, with admiration and awe, as his body pulsed to its own intimate rhythm and he poured his essence down Mal’s throat.With the last spasm, he also fell to his knees.

Carr tenderly took Mal’s head in his hands and brought his lips to his and kissed him with the promise of his love and commitment.When he drew back he tasted himself on Mal’s mouth, which inflamed him even more.He pushed forward to deepen the kiss and start round two.

“Whoa there pardner!”Mal drew back with a small laugh and looked in to Carrick’s lust hazed eyes.“Look we really have to get to work.We have a department head meeting in a half-hour.”

“What is the point of owning a company if you can’t be late every once in a while?” Carrick questioned gruffly, as he pushed back and started to unbutton his shirt, intent on luring Malcolm into another session of lovemaking.

“I would personally love us to christen every room in this Penthouse for the millionth time, but I happen to know a CEO who likes to break his foot any anyone’s ass that has the temerity to keep him waiting.Therefore, he has a bad habit of never being late himself.” Malcolm answered with a smug smile.

“Damn, that would be me wouldn’t it?” Carr asked with exasperation and began to redo the button that he had just finished unbuttoning.

Mal looked into his lover’s almost unnaturally golden eyes and nodded in agreement.

“Ok, but I want a Rain Check.I have to properly show my appreciation for that lovely mouth of yours.Tonight then?”

“Always lover.” Mal promised as he worked to put himself back together.

******************************************************

As they neared the second hour of the one of the most boring meetings he had ever had the displeasure of being in, Malcolm watched as Carr called each department head and drilled him or her on the deficiencies in their leadership. To be fair, he always complemented when he found success, and the reward structure at Caudwell Industries was second to none. But today was a bad day, with the economy doing a nose dive it seemed that many of the department heads had delayed or wholly ignored making the required adjustments to make sure that Caudwell Enterprises stayed on track, the numbers were slipping and Carrick was not amused.

“Stanley, your department continues to be a disappointment.”Carrick nailed the executive with his eyes.

“Mr. Caudwell, with this downturn in the economy we have had to consistently regroup our strategy to create the interest in our various product lines.”The slight man stated.Stanley was always teetering on the edge of incompetence.Right when Malcolm thought he would doubtlessly get fired for some miscalculation, he would somehow manage to hit a home run.That was the only reason he had manage to keep his job as an executive at Caudwell.The problem was that he could never produce consistent results.

“Your marketing sales strategy is sloppy, and it has underperformed for over six months! This cannot be tolerated and I do not see that you have a plan to stop this trend.I have asked you to pull a team together to do some brain storming regarding the changes we need to make to get back on track.I still see no progress.We are going to have to talk about this more in detail.” Carrick stressed, while flipping through the file in his hands.

“Sir, I would appreciate the opportunity to discuss how we are going to refocus our department.” Stanley pleaded. “I am sure I can demonstrate that we have some effective plans in the pipeline.” He looked like he was on the verge of tears. Malcolm was considering handing him a hanky.

Carrick gave the hapless executive a look that questioned what planet his employee resided on. “Stanley, I did not think I hired a magician, because you are going to have to do some magnificent ‘slight of hand’ to get me to believe that you have any of this handled.”Carrick added as he leaned back in his chair and fully faced his cowering employee.

Someone in the room coughed back their laughter. As Carrick quickly swept the room to find the offender, all eyes were innocent and all eyes avoided making direct contact with his.

“Maybe this should serve a warning to you all. This company has gotten to where it is because I do not make any excuses for myself and therefore I do not take any excuses from any employee. You all are senior executives in one of the world’s most premiere corporations. Do not fuck it up.”  He added sternly as he stood up.

While standing, he leaned onto the long, executive, conference table and eyeballed each individual gathered around the table.“But please know that you will be out of a job way before any of you manage to undermine what I have built.” Carrick fixed every executive with his fiercest stare.

There was a hush in the room. Everyone was just glad that the spotlight of Carrick’s ire was not totally focused on him or her. No one spoke in the midst of the hush, just in case his laser sights turned.

As things started to get interesting during the meeting, Malcolm studied his boss, his best friend, his lover – Carrick William Caudwell.

. Though Carr may argue that he was bisexual at best, there was no denying how delicious his good looks were to any sex. He used wear his hair long, which he kept tamed with a strip of raw leather, the look was something like a bundled sheaf of wheat. Recently, when he noticed the appearance of a light dusting of gray, he began getting it cut, so that his loose, blonde curls lightly cupped the scalp of his head.His face and body seem as if they were carved from granite. To anyone who did not know him well, it would be absolutely believable that his countenance was cut from that unforgiving stone. Carrick was always intense. Very rarely was anyone, outside his closest circle, treated to a smile, let alone a full out grin from him. When he looked at people he made them feel like he was assessing their souls, and found them coming up wanting.

Every morning, Car got up at the crack of dawn and worked out at their private gym. Everyday he scheduled his time to meet the responsibilities to the huge conglomerate that he ran. He was very strict about all of his regimens. But the secret to Carr, that only a few precious people knew, was that once you were important to him, you retained his devotion. He always kept what was his.

“Ok people, this meeting has not been as successful as I had hoped. I expected many more gains in this quarter than are being evidenced. I will have to take a closer look at these reports and determine where the modifications will have to be made. Malcolm, can you please meet me in my office, now?”The sharp voice reached in and interrupted Malcolm’s meandering mind.

“I‘m right behind you” Malcolm answered as he rose from his seat in the executive boardroom. He sat on the other side of the room from the exit, so he was forced to wait while all the other members of the team filed out. Some looked confident with their performance during the meeting, while others, like Stanley, looked like they may be sick to their stomachs.

Once out of the executive conference room, and moving towards Carrick’s private office, Malcolm walked past Carrick’s personal assistant, he gave her a wave and made his way directly to door of the CEO of Caudwell Industries private office.

“What’s up?” He asked as he entered the office.

Carrick was sitting behind his desk, peering through his glasses, as he looked through the various reports on his desk.

“This is a mess and now I’m pissed. While you were wool gathering on the other side of the room, I determined that we are going to have to make some serious changes in our marketing division. I need you on this while I try to deal with issues creeping up in our securities division.” Carr looked at Malcolm sharply.

“Look I am on it. I had a suspicion that Stanley was completely out of his league and I have run a few reports. I will have a complete analysis on his division in your desk by the end of the week. I just want to tweak a few of my suggestions regarding making the division more profitable. Stanley is way too conservative and he is scared to pull the trigger on the big deals. Malcolm replied as he flung himself in a chair opposite to Carr’s.

Carr peered at him over his glasses, “I know I hired you for a reason.Thanks for looking out. Now, I know we are in good hands. What the devil were you thinking about in the meeting, you looked like you were a million miles away?”

“I’m sorry. I know I was setting a bad example, but that session was way past boring-except for the part whey you were all in Stanley’s ass. I appreciate that you want to hear from everyone, but after you get past the initial, pertinent information the rest is just everyone trying to kiss your ass.” Malcolm sighed.

Grace, Carr’s assistant interrupted, “Mr. Caudwell, I have Mr. Montgomery on the line with United Gateway.You asked me to interrupt you when I tracked him down. Would you like to speak to him now?”

Carr looked up at Malcolm gesturing him to stay for the call as well, as he pushed the button to release the call to speakerphone. “Brandon, I wanted to get back to you on the issues surrounding the merger. I have my General Operation Manger sitting with me in the office and we are prepared to answer all your questions regarding this deal. He looked at Mal and caught him rolling his eyes, “Let’s talk about it.”

Malcolm knew then he was about be stuck in another long meeting and he prepared to make himself comfortable.

After two additional hours explaining to Mr. Brandon Montgomery the benefits allowing Caudwell Industries to take over his small, family run, technology firm, Malcolm had to leave.

He avoided Carr’s look of surprise as he got up and prepared to leave the office. “Mr. Montgomery, this is Malcolm Chambers again. It was great talking to you and I am very excited about the possibility of this project.I know you have some reservations, but let me assure you our company can take United Gateway to the next level. We can make your vision proud. If you have any additional questions about our strategy, give me a call and I will be happy to talk to you.Unfortunately, I have to go now, but I look forward to talking you soon.

He mouthed to Carr, “I have got to go. I have some worked to do in my office before I can leave for the school. I will see you there. Remember, you need to be there by five o’clock.” And he pointed to the wrist band on his arm.

As he turned to leave the office he heard Carr put the phone mute.While he walked to the door he could feel Carr’s eyes glued to his ass. At the door, he turned around and smiled at the hunger in Carr’s eyes, “Stop staring at my ass. In the workplace, that’s called sexual harassment.”

Carr leaned back and smiled, “Tonight, I promise to show you some sexual harassment.”H said as he suggestively arched his eyebrow.

Mal looked at him and blew a kiss, “Always lover.” Then he turned the knob on the door to leave.

Malcolm waved again to Grace as he left Carrick’s CEO suite and headed to his office. Once there, he sat down and got work digging Stanley’s ass out of the shit.


Please follow to next page in installment.

 

Chapter Two

 

 

            At four o’clock Carrick cleaned his desk for the day. While he was moving toward the doors to his office he heard his phone begin to buzz.  He looked at the phone, and then the door, in the next second he decided to move back behind his desk he pushed the retrieval button for his private line.

 

            “Mr. Caudwell, Mr. Weston is on the line.” He assistant informed him.

 

            He thanked Grace as he pushed the button that would access the line his long time friend was on.  “Storm!  How the hell is it going, Asshole?”

 

            “Carrick, this is serious-I need you to talk me off of a ledge.” Storm answered with a slightly desperate edge to his voice.

 

            “Storm, what is wrong? Is it Lisa, Julia, or Bella?” All laughing aside, Carrick listened closely to see what he could do for his friend. 

 

            Storm realized that he was scaring the shit out of Carrick, so he dialed it back on the drama in his voice.  “No, Julia and Lisa are fine.  There was a time when I thought those women would never get along.  Now, it seems that they have bonded around finding new ways to make my life hell and of course my little girl is an angel.”

 

            Carrick blew a cleansing breathing after hearing that everyone was ok. “Look, idiot, if you are going to open a conversation like that, then there better be something serious going on behind it.  I swear, give a man a gorgeous wife and a kid and he becomes a drama queen.”

 

            “Look, it is serious, I mean no one is dying, maimed or in a coma, but something is definitely afoot.  Lisa has been acting weird lately. You know, making sure that we have extra time together, being extra affectionate,  just showing up at my office for some afternoon extra-curricular.  Now, I am not saying that our sex life was not spectacular before, but now she is laying it on a bit thick.”  Storm stated with a Sherlock Holmesian air.

 

            “Ok dumbass, I am not sure I am seeing the problem.  Besides the fact that now I have way too much insight into your sex life, it seems that all your bases are covered.  You are getting it every which way and center.  There are men who are complaining that their sex life came to an abrupt end once they had a child.  Your wife is doing you like a porn star.  No problems in my book.”

 

            “Okay Dr. Phil, I hope you don’t charge by the hour because this would work better if you would let me finish making my point.”  Storm directed.  “Look, I may be a guy, but I am no fool.  Something is up.  So I did a little investigation of my own- I went into the ‘Panty Drawer’.”

 

            “Jesus Christ Storm!  What the Hell are you doing? I don’t think I want to hear about this.” Carrick fell into his office chair in exasperation.

 

            “Look women hide everything in the ‘Panty Drawer’.  Generally, men would rather get beaten with barbed wire than go into the ‘Panty Drawer’ and women know this.  I think they pass that kind of information on from one generation of women to the next.”  Storm pointed out as an aside.  “Anyway, being a self professed panty aficionado,”  Carrick rolled his eyes as his friend continued with a confident air, “I am not swayed by the threat of the ‘Panty Drawer’.”

 

            “Well, you will be swayed when Lisa finds out and hands you a knock-out like she’s channeling Wonder Woman.”  Carrick replied wryly.

 

            “ANYWAY,” Storm interrupted his friend’s discourse on the ways his wife was going put him into traction for invading her privacy. “I went into the “drawer of doom” and looked around, way in the back, what do you think I found?” 

 

            “Dust bunnies?”  Carrick offered.

 

            “No - cotton, granny drawers!”  Storm almost shouted into the phone.

 

            “OH SHEEIIIT Storm, what in the hell are you talking about?  I am supposed to meet Malcolm.  In fact I was on my way out and I heard the phone ringing, I seemingly made the mistake of picking it up, thinking it might be something important, and its you talking about your wife’s granny drawers?  I am sure your wife does not want me knowing about the state of her underwear, and its not my problem if your company did so poorly last quarter that your wife is reduced to wearing cotton, ugly panties.” Carrick ran his hands through his short gelled curls in frustration.

 

            “And you call me the dumbass?  Don’t you know what this means?” Storm asked as if he was urging Carrick to explain Einstein’s Theory of Relativity.

 

            “No, obviously this issue stumps even MY brilliant mind.  What do cotton drawers, and her inability, for some unexplained reason, to keep her hands off you mean.”

 

            “She’s pregnant, again.”

 

            Carrick snapped to attention.  He knew that anything dealing with the category of pregnancy was not his bestfriend’s strong suit. Can I have “CONFIRMATION” for $500 Alex?  “Have you talked to her, are you sure she is pregnant?”

 

            “No, I just found the evidence.  But it doesn’t matter, the panties are all the confirmation I need.”  Storm added somberly.  “Ordinarily, my wife would never touch the stuff.  She likes her under-garments skimpy and outrageously expensive.  You know how some women crave the taste of dirt when they are pregnant?  Well my wife craves the Grandma’s, branded by, the ever exclusive company, ‘Fruit of the Loom’.  I can’t tell you what I had to do keep the Grandma’s off of her when she was pregnant with Bella.  It was sex all the time, or she would put that crap on.  Man, I am getting older – I don’t think I have that kind of stamina anymore.

 

            Carrick was full out laughing as his friend carried on.  “So you are okay with her being pregnant.  I don’t have to initiate a call to make sure there is a doctor around to provide you with a sedative.”

 

            “There is no way my wife would drop dead on me or let anything happen to our child.  That would stop the joy she and Julia are having making each day a living misery.”  Storm added with well earned confidence.

 

            Carrick was proud to hear the strength in Storm’s voice.  “Well congratulations, I am so happy for your family- you done good dumbass.”

 

            “You know you and Malcolm can have one of these set-ups too?”

 

            “A panty drawer? I may be in a same sex relationship, but neither Mal or I are cross dressers.”

 

            “No, dipshit, a family, kids –the whole nine yards.” Strom urged.

 

            Storm heard the reluctance to answer in Carrick’s voice. “Look, Mal and I are great. We have five years into a committed relationship that works.  I can’t even wrap my head around the intricacies of adoption, surrogacy, or whatever new social or medical method they have for people like us to have a family.  We are happy to live vicariously through you.”  Carrick attempted to hide the longing in his voice.  It was his most secret dream to be able to have a family with Malcolm.

 

            Storm wasn’t fooled for a minute.  “Carr, talk to him-he may surprise you.”

 

            “Drop it.” Carrick answered abruptly. “Look I love you, Lisa, Julia and Bella.  I have so much in my life, I am not going to jinx it by wanting more.  Now, I have got to go.  Do yourself a favor, KEEP OUT OF YOUR WIFE’S PANTY DRAWER.  That is, if you want to live to see your second child born.  I'm proud of you and I will talk to you later.

 

            “Well, I will talk to you soon. I think I just heard Lisa come in with Bella.  I better go down stairs and take my whupping like a man.”

 

            “Good luck with that.” Carrick offered as he hung up the phone.  As he sat at his desk the thought about a dark haired, mocha colored three year old named Bella and the new baby that he close friend may be having and shook his head.

 

 Though some people would look that Storm and Lisa and say that they had it all, only the ones closest to them knew that the way to their love had been paved in a lot of pain.  Carrick was happy that everything was going so well for them and he didn’t want to waste time on wishing for things that were not available for him and Malcolm.  Just having Mal in his life was gift enough.

 

Carrick looked at the time and cursed.  He had to go or he would be late.  He got up from his desk and walked out the door of his office.

           

           

 

NEXT INSTALLMENT COMING SOON:
NOTE: Stephanie Morris-thanks for your comment earlier. As you see it got me thinking.... And Heidi-I Think you will recognize a reference from a comment made by you in an earlier post.  Thanks for the inspiration.

 

 

Chapter Three

            As Carrick headed out of the executive office suite, he stopped at his assistant, Grace’s, desk to go over the last minute details of the afternoon.

 

“Have the contracts gone out for the German acquisition?”

 

“Malcolm looked through the documents right before he left.  He said there weren’t any changes and I sent them out immediately after that.” She replied as she handed over some of the less urgent phone messages of the day. “Your mother called, but she said not to bother you because she was about to start her spa session.  She said that she would talk to you later.”  She added with a smile.

 

Grace would never be labeled wildly attractive, there was something a little too severe about her features, but she was the best executive assistant in the business.  Carrick knew, because, it seemed, before her, he had tried and fired all the others. She could handle his schedule, deal with his most ornery moods, and manage, then anticipate, his demands like a virtuoso.  Behind her severely tailored suits hid one of his best secret weapons.

 

“How did she sound?”  Carrick inquired.

 

“Sir, she seemed fine.  She seemed really relaxed, like she was enjoying everything the resort had to offer.” 

 

“Since the stroke, I want to make sure that she takes it easy.  Confirm that flowers get delivered to her suite every day during her stay with a suitable message from me.”

 

“Yes sir, I will make sure she receives the flowers and may I suggest a little present attached-just something personal that I am sure she will enjoy.”  Grace offered.

“Grace, I know you are a irreplaceable and you prove it to me every day. Carrick stated with one of his precious few smiles. “Thanks and I think that is a great idea.  Look, did Malcolm take a car and driver to the school?  I don’t want to drive my car and then become stuck with two cars to deal with for the evening. Carrick asked as he directed Grace regarding which messages he wanted her to call back on his behalf.

 

“He took his own car.” She answered.

 

 “Sir, if I may, take a look at this invitation, it’s from Lucian Michel.  You wanted to make some inroads on buying that European cosmetics company.  My research has shown that he knows many of the top players and he could really be of some assistance in making the deal come to fruition.” She stated as she passed him the invitation.

 

Carrick considered the piece of stationary carefully,  “Ah, the mysterious Lucian Michel, let me think about it and I will get back to you regarding whether to RSVP.  The guy is just too secretive for my taste.  No one knows too much about him, yet he has this strange knot of power he has managed to maintain.  I just don’t know if it is worth dealing with an unknown entity.” Carrick stated with a shake of his head.

 

“I can call your driver to take you to the school.  I will let him know the address.”

Grace added with a smiled as she picked up her extension.

 

“Please, I will meet him down stairs.” And with that Carrick left to go down his private elevator and meet his driver.

 

Carrick settled in the back of the car, and listened to the smooth strains of Los Hombres Caliente and their song “Feel Like Makin’ Love,”  and let its Afro, Cuban beat sweep over him, he thought about the evening ahead.  Carr reflected on how perfect his life felt right now.  He was so grateful that he had found his life’s mate with Malcolm. 

 

Previous to meeting Malcolm he knew he was just chasing the sensation of physical love.  Searching for the sensation of release that sexual play had given him, no matter who the partner – male or female.  He had managed to maintain a few previous acquaintances with women and men, but they all had lacked a certain level of emotional engagement.  Usually, it was he who was looking for only physical satisfaction, not bothering, or interested, in establishing any strong or lasting attachments.

 

He had in years long before gone through the immature emotional angst regarding whether he was gay or straight.  Carrick felt most comfortable in considering himself as somewhere in the middle.  If the wider world created a label that identified him as a bisexual, so be it.  There were others that determined that since he was in a predominately monogamous, committed relationship with another man then he was gay – whatever. No matter the label or categorization, he was in love with Malcolm and he had never been happier in his life.

 

As he watched the flash of scenes out side the car’s window, he acknowledged how his attraction for Malcolm was different almost from the beginning.  He remembered going to a meeting in the large conference room of Nabors and Parks, LLC, a law firm that he had hired to help Caldwell Industries negotiate a particularly complicated takeover of a mid-sized technology company, and he was introduced to their new, young, aspiring associate, Malcolm Chambers.

 

The tall African American man who stood across from him had a deep, rich, ebony skin tone, but it was the eyes that caught one immediately, in their depths one saw, intelligence, humor, and strength. He could tell that his body was long and sinewy; a broad chest neatly tucked into a trim waist.  It was only months later that he found out that Malcolm was only an tenth of a second away from making the U.S. Olympic Swim Team in college.  Immediately Carrick was cognizant of a certain heightened awareness in the air.  During their introduction and he clasped hands with this new associate, an electric charge seemed to flow through him and into Malcolm almost immediately.  He knew that Malcolm felt the same connection because Carrick saw, in that moment, Mal had turned what should have been a perfunctory greeting of a client to something else, something more intimate, somehow sensual.

 

It was not that Malcolm, or he, held each other’s hands too long during their greeting, or that anyone made any obvious advances toward the other during their subsequent business meetings; but there was that heightened sensitivity to each others movements, an increased awareness whenever the other spoke, and a simmering heat acknowledging their attraction.

 

 Over the next few months they found ridiculous reasons to have to consult one another regarding the strategy of the corporate take over.  Carrick admired Malcolm for being precise and damn near brilliant professionally.  Over time Carrick came to find that the man he was increasingly spending more time with was the full package.  Malcolm graduated undergraduate school with a degree in Accounting, went to an Ivy League University to get a dual degree, his Juris Doctorate  and MBA,  he was even requesting counsel from Carrick about the efficacy of pursing and LLM in tax.  Mal was a team player.  He had a way of diffusing tense situations, while infusing a charm that was used so subtly that it was almost a covert weapon.

 

Finally, after a marathon session of contract drafting, a dinner of Chinese take-out and wonderful Bordeaux, everything changed. As they were sitting across from each other, finishing their meal and making small talk, Malcolm spoke up.

 

While still admiring the wine in his glass Malcolm asked, “So Mister Caudwell, are we going to finally do something about this thing between us, or are we going to continue to pretend it does not exist and ignore it.  Frankly, I am running out of things to pretend to need to talk to you about.”

 

Carrick looked up at Malcolm with some surprise, but he also felt something inside him loosen, finally.

 

“ Well,Mister Chambers, you mean that thing where we spend the whole time while we are working together thinking up way we can take each others clothes off and then try to determine how long it will take us to get our fill of each other.” Carrick responded while looking into Mal’s eyes with a simmering glimmer.

 

Malcolm’s eyes never left Carrick’s as he moved his lean, long mass from his seat to share the same couch as Carrick.  He leaned into the golden-haired Adonis next to him. “So you do know that thing that I am talking about.” His voice seductively crooned.

 

Carrick took in the man beside him.  He quietly appreciated his burnished brown skin that tucked around the undulations that bespoke of a firm broad chest, and tapered into a trim waist.  Then he looked lower and was drawn to the evidence of Malcolm’s desire, an almost obscene introduction to the treats that were to come.

 

Malcolm seemed to hold his breath while Carrick’s eyes made their slow, sensual passage.

 

“I know it well and I want to discuss it with you more intimately.”  Carrick whispered and slide closer to man sitting beside him.  Are you going to take you clothes off or are your going to need a little help with that.” He inquired.

 

Malcolm smirked and leaned back. He seemed to give careful consideration to Carrick’s question and almost seemed to want to challenge him.   After a moment, Mall seemed to reconsider, as he stood he moved to give himself room to provide a proper show. 

 

In that moment, Carrick was startled by how nervous he was. There was something about Malcolm that automatically and frequently challenged Carrick.   Never one to be in a position to really give a damn how others perceived him, Carrick felt slightly off center, knowing where the evening was quickly headed, and wondering if he would be able to meet the needs and expections of  the younger man standing before him.  As he sat back , preparing himself to enjoy promise and seduction of Mal’s hot gaze, these new and startling thoughts were richoceting through is mind.  Yet as he sat, his body’s position could not help but prominently show off the evidence of his own raging arousal.

 

Malcolm laughed at what he perceived was Carrick’s nonchalant manner, “I am not going to even discuss the historical and psychological implications of a white man telling a black one to strip, and then sits back to watch while something the size of salami continues to grow in his pants.” Malcolm continued to chuckle as he continued to unbutton his shirt in a manner that would make any Chippendale dancer proud.

 

“Lesson number one, let me show you what happens to people who continue to talk while I am waiting.” Carrick growled as he pushed himself off the couch and grabbed Malcolm’s head and brought him close in a scorching kiss.  Together, they negotiated the complicated dance of those newly introduced to making love to another, experimenting, trying to find out what pieces fit where. 

 

            “Oh god, you taste so good.” Carrick murmured as he helped Mal off with his shirt and started to unbutton his own. 

 

            Then the frenzy began, as both raced to undress themselves, and each other, while trying to kiss, taste, and touch the other. Finally, they fell on the sofa, both naked gasping for necessary air. While each attempted to manage and accommodate the strength of the other, Carrick was finally able maneuver Malcolm to lie below him.  His intent was to slow the tempo down.  Carr knelt between Mal’s legs, with one foot balanced on the floor.  Slowly he ran his hand from Mal’s knee up his thigh. 

 

            Malcolm reached up and cupped Carrick face in his hands.  Slowly elevated his body, then slightly angled his head, to lightly brush his tongue against Carr’s lips. For a moment Carr was entranced by the play of muscles in Mal’s abdomen as they worked to bring him closer.  It was the whisper of Mal’s touch that was so light, yet so delicate and sublime- that brought him back to the moment.  Carrick had to briefly close his eyes to guard against the heat that suddenly flooded behind their lids.  This man is fucking bring me to tears. Almost desperately, he grasped Malcolm’s hands, while they rested on either side of his face and his eyes telegraphed into Mal’s the first of many promises.  While not being able to give voice to his promise, he communicated how special this interlude was, and how he had never felt anything like this connection with anyone else.  Immediately, Carrick was driven to demonstrate his visual declaration to his young lover.

 

Deliberately, he avoided the area that was pulsing with need for his attention and rubbed his hands up Mal’s torso to massage the tight frame of muscles playing under his fingers.  Carr marveled at the beauty of Mal’s bronzed, mahogany skin.   Before he could acknowledge his own movement his mouth brushed against Malcolm’s erect nipple.  For awhile Carrick spent a minutes playing with the protruding pebbled flesh, enjoying the sensation of its tiny folds playing against the buds of his tongue.

 

              “Can a man be beautiful?” Carrick whispered, as if swearing a solemn oath to the gods.  “You are just too damn gorgeous.”

 

            Malcolm reached for Carrick’s manhood and began to experimentally pump it.  The action made Carrick’s brain suddenly freeze.  He was no longer capable of coherent thoughts and Malcolm used the opportunity to flip positions with Carrick and used every muscle, each point of their joint contact, to telegraph his increasing need.  Together they strained to melt as one as they lay against each other, each cock, ribbed with veins, straining, aligned against the other.  Malcolm reached down and clasped both inflexible, yet tender, flesh in his hands and stroked both in a purposeful, sharp rhythm.

 

            :Oh Fuck!” Carrick exhaled.

 

            “Who is talking too much now?” Malcolm asked, as he began to move his hips to the rhythm led by his hands. “Where is your lube?”

 

            “Check the bathroom.” Carrick motioned with his hand the general direction of his private bathroom.  He began to stroke himself as he watched Malcolm’s long lithe body stride to the bathroom and disappear behind the door.  He used the pre-cum that appeared on the top of his straining rod to add lubrication to his efforts, heightening his anticipation as Malcolm reappeared in his view.

 

            “Let me help you with that.” Malcolm placed the tube he retrieved from the bathroom on the table next to them, then he tore a foil packet that he must have found in the bathroom.  In a swift motion Mal rolled a condom down Carrick straining penis and straddled Carrick calves as he bent to take Carrick in his mouth. The extraordinary moist, heat that his mouth produced, and the feeling of Mal handling his dick, almost sent Carrick over the edge.  After months of imagining and anticipating the possibility of this moment, his traitorous body was about to make it end all too soon. He needed to dig deep for some of his infamous control.

 

            “Come here.” Carrick implored as he guided Malcolm legs over his shoulder and he laid his full length on the couch.  The old “sixty-nine” allowed both participants to receive and give pleasure.  While Malcolm used his considerable talents on Carrick, Carrick was able to ease some of the intensity rising inside himself by grabbing Malcolm’s ass and tonguing as much of his penis as he could get to.

 

            At first, he paid particular attention to the tip, teasing out the liquid evidence of his partner’s arousal.  The tangy, teasing, taste that Carrick received of Malcolm only spurred him on to want more.  He used the edge of his teeth to lightly scrape the outer skin of Mal’s cock to add to his pleasure.

 

            Malcolm groaned. “You are going to kill me.  I need you inside me now.” He pleaded as he turned himself around and give Carrick a kiss then slowly dragged his lips down Car’s body.

 

            Carrick knew he was at his limit and he quickly turned Malcolm around on the sofa, so that he lying on his back.  Then Carrick placed a loose cushion under Malcolm’s behind, while reaching under him to massage the globes of his ass.  As he kneaded, his hands came closer and closer to Mal’s center.  When Mal felt him inch toward what he hoped was the final goal, he moved, shifted, and then panted to encourage Carrick to touch that tight grouping of muscles that would provide him some relief. Carrick avoided his ultimate destination, in an effort to increase and intensify Malcolm’s pleasure and want.  Finally, Carrick could not help himself as he bent to drag his tongue across the tight ring of muscles that gathered into Malcolm’s sphincter. 

 

            “Ahhhhh-jesus,” Malcolm exclaimed.  “Please fuck me. You are such a damn tease.

 

            Carrick squeezed the lube and watched Malcolm’s expression as he dropped a liberal amount up and around Mal’s ass hole. While he was there he used one finger to begin to prepare Malcolm for his entrance. Malcolm eyes turned up inside his head with the intense pleasure that Carrick finger brought to his senses.  Then he felt the insertion of two fingers and almost lost his load.

 

            “I …. Can’t…..take….anymore……..please” Malcolm begged.

 

            Carrick chuckled, as he positioned himself to enter.  There was something almost sacred in that moment.  Malcolm’s eyes opened and searched for Carrick’s as he felt him enter. Slowly, Carrick pushed against Malcolm waiting for his muscles to relax and allow him entrance; all the while they maintained eye contact.  It was almost more erotic than anything they were physically doing, to watch Malcolm expression of wonder and surrender as Carrick pushed to enclose the head of his penis in Mal’s depths.

 

            His dick felt as if it had a mind of its own as suddenly he felt like he could not wait for Malcolm to get accumulated with the size of his considerable girth and he felt himself slide out completely only to drive himself all the way in to his balls.

 

            “AHHHHHH” Malcolm shouted.

 

            “I am so sorry baby, I just can’t help it.  You feel so good.” Carrick crooned, almost pulling out in an effort to adjust his rhythm.

 

            “Keep ….Keep going-fuck me hard.  I want you so bad.” Malcolm cried.

 

            Carrick could not hold back any more. His body flung itself in a rhythm that was frenzied and brutal.  He kept reaching for the release that was now, somehow, just out of his grasp.  Then he saw Malcolm grab his cock and met each brutal thrust is an equally brutal hand stroke of his own. As he watched Malcolm spasm and shout his release, splattering his chest and arms and lips, he finally was able to reach his own sweet relief.

 

            Dazed, Carrick found himself dangling over Malcolm and still supporting Malcolm’s thighs with his shoulders. Somehow he found the strength to push himself off so that Malcolm could be more comfortable.

 

            “Whoa where are you going?” Malcolm half-heartedly made a grabbing motion to bring Carrick closer.

 

            “I am staying right here, but I wanted to make sure I don’t turn you into a human pretzel.” Carrick chucked as he pulled a blanket from its storage chest, built into a side table, and then turned to spoon Malcolm as he pulled the fabric over them.

 

            “I don’t think I be able to enter this office again without getting hard, forget about ever sitting on this sofa.”  Malcolm murmured with his eyes closed.

 

            Carrick chuckled as he kissed the back of Mal’s neck with small little pecks.

 

            “My Lord, you are not ready for round two?” Mal asked as he turned in Carrick’s arms.

 

            “If you keep squirming I will be. You have been in my mind for way too long for me to just get a taste and let you go.”  Carrick added with a smile.

 

Chapter Four

            “Mr. Caudwell.....Mr. Caudwell....Sir” His driver, Marcus, voice interrupted his thoughts.

 

            “Yes Marcus”

 

            “We are about three blocks away, where do you wish for me to drop you?”

 

            “Just drop me in front of the school. And Marcus, give me a few more minutes before you stop the car.”  Carrick's remembrances of this first time with Malcolm had resulted in tightness in his crotch.  After five years together, Malcolm still turned him on like no other. 

 

            Several minutes later, “Mr. Caudwell, we have arrived at our destination.” His driver announced.

 

After a few moments of deep breathing the car had come to a stop, Marcus walked around the car to assist Carrick as he exited the car and opened the door of the car.  Carr climbed out of the car and took his first look at the neighborhood that his driver was leaving him in.

 

“Thanks Marcus, you can take off the rest of the evening, Malcolm has his car.”

 

            “Where in hot hell am I!” Carrick thought to himself, as he took in the scenery around him.   His eyes focused on the dilapidated structure of the school. The exterior looked as if it was twenty years too late for a paint job.  What little greenery around the school was over grown and wholly unattended to.  There was no grass along the common areas that hugged the sidewalk.  All one could see was a long section of compacted dirt and in those areas that saw more frequent foot travel, the ground was more furrowed, almost trenched,  for its trouble.  The façade of Frazier High School clearly stated, “Run for your life,” not “Come and get a quality education.”

 

            As Carr’s eyes rose to meet the steps that led to the front doors, he found the cement steps pocked with fissures and missing blocks.  It almost appeared as if someone or something was taking it upon itself to remove portions of the stone steps chip by chip.  It was disgraceful.  Amongst the deterioration, Carr’s vision expanded to included the other residents on the steps, children.  At that point they had been watching him get out of his car and access the structure, but he could also see them accessing, calculating, and confirming.

 

            There were two young men finishing some type of transaction to his immediate left.  They both looked at him as if daring him to make any mention of their actions.  On the bottom step of the school he was two young girls, who could not be more than fifteen, wearing clothes that were too tight, too short, with too much make-up.  All around the front of the school there seemed to be about twenty-five more children doing their own variation of the same theme.  There wasn’t anything going, on so they may just as well hang out at school.

 

            Carr braced himself with his sternest, no-nonsense expression and began his climb up the stairs to the school’s doors.  All the way he felt dozens of eyes following his wake.  As he reached the door, a brave soul spoke in a loud whisper. “Aye, nobody told me that the President of the United States was coming!” Carr guided the front door closed behind him to the roar of young laughter.

 

            The interior of the school did not seem much better than the exterior.  But, there seemed to be some vain attempts to make it inviting.  The paint seemed like it had been applied in the last decade, unfortunately it was some version of vomit inducing green. The halls seemed neat and orderly; of course it was several hours since school was dismissed, so Carr did not expect to see too much activity within the halls.

 

            His appraisal of the halls around him must have sparked the interest of the other adult in the room because a security guard seeming figures asked, “Hello, may I help you?”

 

            Carr turned in his direction and answered, “Yes, I am supposed to meet someone in the auditorium, could you please direct me to where I can locate it?”

 

            “Who are you meeting in the auditorium?”

 

            “Malcolm Chambers.”

 

            “He is one of the volunteers for the play, right?”

 

            Carr did not bother to answer him because the guard had already started to give directions for entering the building.

 

            “I will have to ask you to step though the metal detector to your right, and then you will have to sign my book.  I can then have one of our officer’s escort you to the auditorium.”

 

            “It seems like your security is better than at the airport.” Carr stated with a wry smile.

 

            “I’ll tell you, the nonsense that we have to deal with on some days have nothing to do with Al Qaeda.”  The officer offered with a sigh.  “Just step through this machine and Officer Johnson will lead the way.

 

            Officer Johnson was an older man who did not seem too enthused about showing Carrick anywhere.  As they walked down the hall toward two large double doors, Carrick could not help but to continue to take in his surroundings.  There seemed to have been several attempts to liven up the atmosphere of the school, but the feeling of dreariness did not dissipate.  Either it was the continual glimpses of what looked like institutional bars on the windows or the gray-green hue on the walls, everything seemed to be so oppressive.  “How can children learn in this atmosphere?” Carrick questioned himself.

 

            Finally, the guard drew up to the first set of double doors that where labeled “ditorium”.

 

            “Paying for the A and the U would have broke ‘em, huh” Carrick questioned as he stared at the compromised sign.

 

            The guard had about as much humor as Carrick was accused of NOT having,”Sir, one of our little inmates decided it would be fun to take the letters.  No one has seen them since.  I guess the administration decided that replacing it would only give another the chance to do it all again. Money is short around here and nobody has the money to replace the crap that these kids are continually breaking.”

 

            “Maybe if the administration modeled pride, then the kids would show some as well?”

 

            The guard gave him a hard stare that expressly stated that Carrick did not know what he was talking about. But instead of saying so he waved Carrick to the double doors. “All the kids participating in the play are in there.”

 

            As Carrick moved though the doors he took in the sight before him.  The room was fairly dark as he watched the hustle and bustle of several young people working on various tasks.  From the top of the aisle he saw some students at the corner of the stage working of props, on another side of the stage he saw students working on dance steps for what seemed like a pretty complicated routine.  Finally he eyes found what he sought.

 

            Malcolm was standing in the space in front of the stage facing a female student, on the stage, who was listening to his instructions intently. Next to the female student, also standing on the stage was woman in her mid to late twenties.  Somehow the tone of her skin reminded him of a walnut sideboard that he had inherited from some cousin, twice removed, on his father’s side.  It was actually one of his early pieces that had initiated his interest in antiques; most of his collection was housed in his country home on the Hudson.  Her skin, like the piece, had its own integrity; a luminescence that bespoke is uniqueness and urged one to touch.  Her most obvious asset was her dancer’s body.  A little taller than the average dancer, she long, lithe body evidenced the strength and definition of one who depended on their body to produce various physical results. 

 

Clearly she was a woman who took special pains to maintain her classic style.  She wore a black suede skirt with matching knee length high heeled boots.  Her shoulders were draped with a slim cowl necked, smoky gray sweater, a black suede belt gathered the sweater around her small waist.  Though she was bequeathed an over generous amount across her bosom and her rear, she was probably one of the most beautiful women that Carrick had ever seen.  This must be Camille   

 

What struck him most in watching the interaction between the three individuals was Malcolm’s behavior.  In their years together, Carrick had seen Malcolm in various social situations and could pretty much read his body language, like it was a vernacular known only to him.  It was Malcolm’s body posture that gave him pause from moving down the aisle and announcing his presence.  The thing about knowing ones lover is that the clues and cues are always subtle.  In this case it wasn’t that Mal was overtly displaying his attraction to Camille, and it was very clear to Carrick that Malcolm was attracted to this woman.  What was more disturbing to Carrick was the degree to which Malcolm was holding himself back. 

 

Carr had always admired Mal’s ability to demonstrate even the most casual displays of physical affection or comfort to even the most distant of acquaintances.  Mal was one of those people who would brush the back of a stranger he was holding the door open for, in an effort to guide them into the structure. The physical contact would not “creep” the person out, only startle them as the contact would be extraordinary in that it was made in an age where strangers go to great lengths not to be intimate.   Now, Mal seemed to being adhering to some self-subscribed mode of inaction, there was tenseness in his frame that Carr had never experienced before.  Carrick, again looked speculatively at the woman on the stage, and then looked even more closely to his lover and began to wonder.  What the fuck is going on!

Chapter Five: The Lion’s Pride

 

Malcolm had been reigning in his nervous energy all afternoon.  As they went through their warm-up exercises with the students/actors, he caught himself checking the back of the auditorium several times.  It was so early that common sense told him that Carrick would not have arrived yet.  Carrick was fanatical about being on time; never late or early.

 

            So much seemed to be riding on Carrick’s visit to the school because Mal wanted to introduce the idea of Caudwell Enterprises adopting the school to do some targeted fundraising and improvements.  Carr’s company, like most, did a lot of general charitable giving to the standard organizations that made requests.  To Mal, Frazier High School was an opportunity to be intimately involved with a specific outcome, it didn’t hurt that the school also reminded him of the high school in his old neighborhood.  Mal was lucky, he only was in his neighborhood high school for a year before a teacher recognized how bright he was and recommended that his parents attempt to apply for a scholarship at a private boarding school.  But when he would go home on breaks, he would see how limited educational resources were crippling his old school friends.  While he was working with new textbooks, and was being taught by some of the most pre-imminent instructors from all over the world (thanks to the use of the internet and video feeds), his former classmates were working with textbooks that were hopelessly out of date, crowded in to small class rooms, where the emphasis was on getting through the day without incident, not the preparation of all the students for a global economy.

 

In this case, Caudwell Enterprises adopting this school could be a win/win for all involved. Caudwell can inform the administration regarding the types of skills required for the new international economy and the company can be a model for other companies contemplating a similar partnership with educational institutions; all the while the company would receive excellent P.R. for their efforts in the community.  More importantly, the children enrolled here would truly flourish with the knowledge that there would be added services and money available to enhance their educational experience.  Mal wasn’t sure how it would all work out, be he knew this was an opportunity he wanted to share with Carrick.

 

            Then there was Camille.  He also wanted to introduce Carrick to Camille. Over the past few months she was becoming a good friend.  Something about her was so self-contained and she seemed like she didn’t have a lot of people in her life.  Carrick always called Mal the Patron Saint of Strays, so it seemed that he had found another one.  Over the course of them working with the students he had discovered that she had a wicked sense of humor, but she always seemed to set herself apart from everything.  His sensed was that she did not do it because she felt, “better” than anyone else, but more like she did not “belong” to anyone or anything.  Although she has always presented herself as being more than capable, something about her called to the part of Mal that wanted to keep the things he cared about protected and safe.

 

If he was a little more honest, he would admit that he had a bit of a crush on her.   Him, Malcolm Chambers, a card carrying gay man, was becoming more and more intrigued and smitten with a woman. It almost made him laugh.  With a ton of luck, and the stars aligning the right way, a few pigs flying, and Carrick having a major personality shift, his friendship with Camille could add up to another few new interesting possibilities.

 

Suddenly he realized that the usual hustle and bustle of the theater has abated. He looked out from his reverie to realize that everyone was looking directly at him and they all had amused faces, especially one who had bright gray eyes and figure that could keep and man up all night. Malcolm watched while Camille realized that he had finally gotten the clue that everyone was waiting on him and listened as her laughter spilled across the stage.

 

“What?” Malcolm shrugged

 

“What do you mean ‘What’ Mister Taskmaster?  Janelle was in the middle of telling us how she is still not very comfortable with the first number and when I turn to ask you what you think, I see that you have drifted off to “La La Land”.  Such a bad example for our actors.”  Camille added with an unlady like snort.

 

Malcolm had to admit the same work ethic that he brought to his job, he was trying to instill in the children working with the play.  He expected them to be on time and on task.  Right now he wasn’t making a very good impression on his crew.

 

Malcolm quickly determined that he might be able to pretend that he was paying attention.  “Hey, I have been with you all, all along.  I was just framing my response in my head.”  Mal tried to add a little smugness to his tone.

 

“Oh really, so what do you think about that step at the end of the last scene that Janelle was concerned about, how do you think we should fix it?”

 

Mal had no earthly idea what she was talking about.  BUSTED! “Ok, maybe I wasn’t totally focused on everything you were saying; maybe you could refresh my memory?”

 

His response sent all the actors on stage in spasms of laughter.  While Camille and Janelle exchanged knowing looks as they laughed, his breath suddenly caught as he watched Camille’s face soften and become younger with a more girlish countenance, and less the sophisticated worldly woman.  Something in his eyes must have caught Camille’s, because her laughter drifted away and the youthful look in her eye became uncertain and tentative.

 

“Ok, you guys caught me.  What did I miss?” He added with a chuckle.

 

“Well Mr. Chambers, before you tried to play off your inattention with a line of…”

 

            One of the students working on props made a sneezing noise that sounded suspiciously like, “Bullshit!”

 

            Camille gave the “evil eye” to that side of the room before she continued, “I am going to pretend that someone had a very convenient, yet accurate sneezing fit.  But yes, before you tried to feed us your line of B.S., (again she looked pointedly to the group that she was sure that held the profane sneezer) we were going to try to work out the first number so that Janelle is more comfortable with it.”

 

“Okay that sounds like a plan.  Janelle, what exactly are you having problems with?” Malcolm inquired.

 

            To the surprise of everyone, Janelle was the student who no one would believe could bring tha’ house down.  She had a “A” average in school, never was came to school tardy, and took her education extremely seriously.  When she came to audition for the play everyone thought she had lost her mind, until she opened her mouth to sing.  Everyone stopped what they were doing to stare at the girl who looked like the female Erkle, but sounded like Whitney Houston in her “I’ll Always Love You” days.  Their challenge, as directors,  through this whole rehearsal period, was to help her loose some of her stiffness, like she was Laura on “Little House on the Prairie” and help her find her inner Madonna and let some “Like A Virgin” fly.  A challenge indeed.

 

            “Well, Carmen sees Joe for the first time and she really likes him right?” Janelle turned to Camille for agreement.  “Well, I have watched the movie a million times to try to get my movements right, but I look ridiculous – I need help!”

 

            Malcolm had to admit, Karen was learning to hold her own in many of the dancing sequences, but she was right, in the first number she looked like a immalleable, prudish, caricature of Carmen Jones; not the sultry, sex kitten that Dorothy Dandridge made famous.  The first scene sets the stage for the whole play.  Carmen comes alive in the first moment she steps into view on the screen, in the movie.   When Janelle practices the very same moves, on stage, she looks like she mimicking moves she seen, but her movements are so stiff, she looks like she has a whole body brace under her clothes. Nothing she’s doing looks remotely seductive or light.

 

            “Ok, let’s try something.”  Camille looked to Malcolm to see if he was game.

 

            Mal did not know what she had in mind but he did know that they had to do something quick to put Janelle at ease with the role she was playing. 

 

            “Mr. Chambers, you know Devon’s moves as “Joe” don’t you.”  She asked. Devon was the male lead, who played the character Joe.

 

            “Sure!”  Malcolm brushed his hand together to gear up is acting skills.

 

            “So why don’t you come up on stage and you be Joe while I do Janelle’s part.  Look, I am not going to sing, I will save you all that horror show, but I can walk and talk you through the moves. Maybe if I do that, Janelle, you can loosen up a little bit.” Camille added.

 

            Janelle looked at Camille dubiously, in theory it seemed like a good idea, but in practice…..well.  While Camille moved to Janelle’s opening queue, Malcolm vaulted on stage to stand where “Joe” first enters the scene.  Then something fascinating happened. While they were waited for everyone to find their places, Malcolm glanced at Camille and watched her transform.  Suddenly her center of gravity changed and her body held a sudden loose, seductiveness.  Even her eyes changed, the light in them did not go out, but narrowed to the precision of laser beams, they suddenly became cunning.  Finally, she pulled her hair out of its pony tail and used her fingers to fan it over her shoulder, giving it a rub up and down so that is looked partly disheveled. Malcolm was still in the midst of his bemusement when the cue was give for him to begin the scene and greet another enlisted man at the scene’s opening.  Then Camille stole the show.

            As Camille sauntered into the make believe canteen, she gave directions to Janelle as she moved throughout the scene.  But everyone was so entranced by the change in her; it was almost too much for anyone to focus on her directions. Camille seemed to pause at the door and strike sexy, languorous pose, as if she was inviting all the men in the vicinity to get their fill while she greeted another actor, as Carmen, at the door.  Before she moved, she seemed to scan the premise to make sure that she had received the proper homage to the altar of her beauty before she deigned to move any further. 

 

            Oh, but when she moved…..Camille moved to her various marks with her hips rolling to a rhythm that had hypnotized men since the beginning of time, with a carelessly knowing  look at each male actor that she encountered as she walked through the scene.

 

She gave instructions, “Janelle, in this scene, Carmen knows that she alluring and seductive.  She is a woman who is wholly comfortable in her body and she uses it as a tool to get what she wants, either a date or to make sure she does not get into trouble for coming into work late. Bottom line, she knows, or at least, thinks, that every man in the place wants her and that every woman wants to be her. Her power is in her overt femininity.”  Camille saunters to the first actor to ask the “Carmen” out and he delivers his lines in a rush, easily overwhelmed by her obvious charms.

 

            “You are too little and too late.”  Camille purrs as she delivers the line with just enough punch to shuts her suitor down, but with enough enticement to leave no doubt that he would be back.

 

            Camille moved through the whole scene giving suggestions to Janelle as she went along, but never dropping the persona of Carmen.  Mal almost felt bad for the young male actors in the scene.  It was clear that everyone knew that Camille was a beautiful woman, but a naturally reserved woman.  As Carmen, Camille lit up the stage and poured hot, boiling oil, on the raging desires of these young boys, all the while carelessly displaying all her physical attributes.  She only ratcheted up the sexual tension in a building where hormones were famous for spilling out of control.

 

            Through it all Malcolm moved though the steps that he and Devon had worked out weeks ago as “Joe”.  Finally Camille spoke the lines, “I’d like to toss a party for you at Billy Pastor’s, give you a real send off,”  brazenly asking for a date in front of Joe’s girlfriend.

 

            Camille turned to relay some character motivation advice to her protégé. “Janelle, Carmen has no sense of personal boundaries or personal space where men are concerned.  She know that she can get whatever she wants from them and she is confident that she will be able to add Joe to the long line of men who fallen to her demands. That is where your confidence comes from, that is why you add a little jiggle in your walk, and that is why you don’t have any problem flirting with one man while the one you were with last night is just a step away.  Do you get that?”

 

            “Ms. Montgomery, that was fantastic!”  Janelle almost hyperventilated as she began to praise Camille performance.  As Malcolm looked around, it seemed like she wasn’t the only person in the throws of admiration for her performance.  The gentlemen in the room seemed to be itching to give a five fingered salute for the impromptu display.  The most surprised spectator, Malcolm, felt his own dick give its own silent round of applause.

 

            Camille seemed to shake herself out of her character and suddenly became a little self-conscious.  Taking her hair elastic out of her skit pocket, she began to rake the fingers through her hair in an effort to pull it up, to tame it. "Janelle, just use what you have to make yourself feel more Carmenlike.  I used my hair to make me feel more wanton.  Lean on you props to make the character real – just remember she is not you and that should free you to be what you need to be on stage.”

 

            Malcolm felt compelled to walk over to Camille.  He gave her a kiss on the cheek and looked into her eyes, “That performance was stunning.”  For a moment she leaned into him, but caught herself and stepped back.

 

            Camille became even more visibly uncomfortable with his praise, “Thanks Mal, you don’t get to be my age without learning a few things about how to turn a man’s head.”  She deflected his praise and walked past him to Jannelle to brush the young girl’s arms. 

 

            “Janelle for the time you are on this stage you are not you.  Just remember the type of woman that Carmen is and be her. That selfish, self-confident, time bomb that she is at the beginning of the play and you will be wonderful. In fact, you are wonderful.”  Camille grinned at her and walked toward the steps that would lead her off the stage and to the lower level where the audience would be seated.

 

            As she walked to the first row of seats, from the corner of her eyes she caught a man standing in the shadows.  As she moved to her seat that she worked from to direct the actors, he moved from the shadows and walked directly to her and he did not seem too friendly, not in the least.


Please follow story to the next page.

Chapter 7

            Carrick did not have to wait long for Malcolm to reappear.  He watched as Mal re-entered the room and strode to their table.  Carrick got a hint of the trouble he was in when he saw that Malcolm was looking at everything else in the club/restaurant in an effort to avoid meeting his eyes. But, even supremely annoyed, Carrick could not help but acknowledge how beautiful Malcolm was, inside as well as outside.   He knew that was his real reason for being uncomfortable with his behavior that evening.  Yeah, he didn’t believe one line that Camille was feeding, but that shouldn’t have stopped him from behaving better.  Even now, when he knew he was in line for some serious groveling, all he wanted to do was strip Mal bare and touch his body like he was blind and learning Braille.

 

            Malcolm, on the other hand, didn’t know what had gone wrong that night.  To him it seemed that things had been going moderately well.  At the school, he was aware that conversation between Carrick and Camille seemed stilted, and that is why he thought having dinner together would put everyone at ease. Did Carrick even see the same beautiful and accomplished woman that they were treated to on stage that evening?  Couldn’t he see how terrific she was?  Obviously, that was just wishful thinking on his part.

 

            After he walked Camille to her car and watched her leave the parking lot he tried to put his finger on why his dinner companions had taken such an obvious dislike to each other.  No matter what Camille said, he knew that her mysteriously sudden headache had Carrick written all over it.  Carrick had obviously said something to piss her off.

 

            Jealously? The word emerged unbidden to his mind, but he brushed it off in the same second that it emerged.  After five years of being together, Carrick knew that Mal’s commitment to him was deep and abiding.  Malcolm could not imagine his life without Carrick at his side and he was confident that the sentiment went both ways.

 

            What he knew he was really trying to avoid was asking himself was why he even cared so much that Carrick and Camille took such an instant dislike to each other?  What was he hoping to gain out of this evening?  It was all perplexing to him and now he had to deal with Carrick.

 

            As he seated himself at the table, he drummed his perfectly manicured mahogany hued digits against the table, while he avoided eye contact with Carrick and watched the band play for a few moments.  As he avoided acknowledging the man sitting across the table from him, he could almost feel the heavy emotions that were filling their little intimate space, but he didn’t care, it was time to teach his partner a lesson.

 

            “So, I got off the phone with our Asian partners a little while ago and I think I have cleared up the problems we were having with Customs.  I think if we ship our products using different packaging we can head off many of the major concerns.  Tomorrow, I will get going on doing some investigation on “Green” shipping solutions.  I will have my report on your desk by tomorrow evening.” 

 

            “Also, I just wanted to let you in on the reason that I wanted you to come by the school, I was thinking that Caudwell Industries could create a program that would essentially adopt a school…..”

 

            “Mal?” Carrick interrupted.  “You are really mad, right?” Carrick reached across the table to halt the constant drumming of his partner’s hand.  Malcolm’s inane babbling was making him hyperventilate, he had only seen Malcolm this angry one other time, since they had been together, and in that particular instance, Mal’s ire was not directed at him.

 

            For Malcolm’s part he was slightly surprised when Carrick did not move his hand once he had quieted Mal’s movements.  Usually, they eliminated all exhibitions of public affection when they were out together. The paparazzi was ruthless and they had professional partners and colleagues that could be uncomfortable doing business, including  with Caudwell industries, a world renowned multi-national corporation with a  almost hundred year track record, if it was perceived to be run by same-sex couple.  So though it was public knowledge that Carrick and Malcolm were in a relationship, they were almost paranoid about keeping their private life private, and making sure that the photogs never got their “money shot”.

 

            “Well, Carrick why in the world would I be annoyed at you.” Malcolm pushed his chair back, while leaning into his elbows, which were resting on the table.  “I could not possibly be mad that you have been less that warm to a woman, and a friend that I will be working with for the next few weeks, could I?”

 

            “Mal it’s like this…………”

 

            Malcolm interrupted him with a  cold stare, “I cannot conceive of why I would be upset that when I ask you to do the gentlemanly thing and dance with our dinner guest, while I take a call, I come back to her almost sprinting away from you and telling me about a manufactured headache. No, that couldn’t be it?”

 

            “Mal it not like that, I just……………”

 

            “Carrick, I don’t really give a damn about what you have to say.  Your behavior was deplorable and you made a woman, I respect, extremely uncomfortable. For me, that is unacceptable.”  With that, Malcolm caught their waiter’s eye and called for the check.

 

            Malcolm again looked at the man he loved more than anything in this world.  “You know what really hurts? It’s that you didn’t even try to be decent.  You think it was easy for me in the beginning when I was first around Storm and Julia?  You all had your own secrete language for god sakes.  Most of the time there were conversations going on above my head, that no cared to clue me in on.  Do you think I wasn’t uncomfortable?  I felt like the fourth wheel to your little triumvirate.  But, I worked hard to not be jealous of your closeness, knowing that they were apart of what made you so special and then I worked hard to create a relationship with them myself.   I won’t pretend that Camille is like family to me, like Julia and Storm are to you, but couldn’t you still dredge up, POLITE?  I was not asking you to fall in love with her, but I did want you to give her a chance and get to know her a little, because she is MY friend.”

 

            Carrick sat back in his chair stunned.   Somewhere in his consciousness he heard the band beginning  “Don’t Explain”.  The thought popped in his mind, Billie had a song for every occasion, too bad I’m playing them all out tonight. He didn’t know what to concentrate on first; that Malcolm had once felt left out in his friendship with Julia and Storm, or that Malcolm had felt that Carr had let him down this evening with Camille.

 

            As Carrick tried to formulate a response in him head, he watched as Mal signed the check with a flourish and stood up as to leave.

 

            “Mal, let’s talk about this.  I don’t want this standing between us tonight, I know I seemed like a real jerk, but I’m telling you there is something off about that woman.”

 

            Malcolm looked at him closely before he responded.  “Carrick, let’s just go home.  We are not in the right place for this discussion and I am too annoyed to really hear whatever explanation you have to give me right now.  I’ll meet you at the car.”  With that, Malcolm turned to walk toward the front of the restaurant.

 

            Ok, what just happened here? They were playing for a playbook that had never been introduced into their relationship before.   Whenever they had any minor difference of opinion they had always talked it out so that they could come to an understanding.  They never have been dismissive to each other, but Carrick, at that moment, definitely felt dismissed.

 

            She is behind this, and I promise to make her pay royally, she’s toying with the one thing that I cannot afford to allow her to blow apart.  Carrick thought to himself as he threw the restaurant’s linen napkin on the table and followed Malcolm.

 

            The drive to their penthouse was extremely quiet.  All at once there seemed to be too much to say and too little time to say it in.  Carrick and Malcolm, individually seemed to quietly contemplate their own thoughts, anxiously trying to figure out how their morning together, that held so much promise, had turned into an evening that left them so disconnected.

 

            When they finally reached the entrance to their home they parted company.  Malcolm made his way directly to their bedroom.  Carrick watched him, noting the stiffness in his walk and decided to give Malcolm some space, besides he really needed a drink.  As he drew abreast the bar he chose a bottle from his collection, he poured a generous amount of Chateau du Busca 1974 Armagnac Tenareze in a crystal brandy snifter and took a sip.  For a moment he allowed the fragrant liquid to roll around his mouth, while he contemplated how many ways of wrong the evening had ended.   

 

            He decided to do something about and set about finding his partner.  Finally, Carrick found Malcolm in their dressing room in the midst of unbuttoning his shirt after taking off his suit jacket. Once he took in the bunching and rippling of Mal’s muscles as he removed his shirt, the last thing he wanted to talk about was Camille.

 

Immediately he wanted to be done with this conversation so that he could work on more important things.  “Baby, I am sorry.  I love you and no matter what my initial feelings about her may be, I should have been more respectful.”  Carrick drew up behind Malcolm and insinuated his arms around Mal's waist and drew Mal’s back against his chest.   Though Malcolm no longer swam competitively, he was still in the habit of waxing his body.  The man did not have a patch of hair anywhere and as Carr spoke, he absently stroked Mal's chest from behind. Being this close to Mal, and drinking in the sexy mix of his cologne and his essence, always turned him on.

 

            At Carr’s touch Malcolm head fell back.   The moment that he felt Carr close a salve was put on his irritated feelings.    “Carrick, how can you possibly make any judgments after only spending one evening with her?”

 

            Carrick did not want to get any further into this, since he had finally gotten Mal’s a little less tense, but he felt he owed him some type of explanation. “Mal, all I know is that I would bet my bank account that she is not being honest about herself.  Tonight I met about four women, before I lost count and I don’t think we can just chalk it up to multiple personality disorder.  Her seamless transformations were just a little too much and I don’t appreciate her toying with you, a man who is always up front and generous with himself and his consideration.  I just want you to watch out-this stray may just bite the hand that feeds it.”

 

            “That is the point Carr,” Malcolm replied making his stand, but Carr’s hands were heading south and his attention began to slip. “She is not asking anything of me, and she has not asked anything of me. If anything, when we first met, she was constantly putting distance between us.  She doesn’t seem to have much, in the way of friends in her life, I just wanted her to know that I saw her and I cared.”

 

            From her performance at the school and the club it seems that being seen isn’t one of her problems. Carrick thought to himself, but he didn’t want to push the point with Mal.  In fact, he and Mal were doing entirely too much thinking. He decided with a little maneuvering he could redirect some of the blood flow that was making his lover over-think their evening and encourage it flow toward a more pleasurable area.

 

            While teasing his lover, deliberately avoiding the area that was beginning to show the promise of an evening that was taking the turn for the better, Carr reached behind himself and pulled out a drawer in their closet that held their, “ME’s or mood enhancers.” As soon as his had dipped in the velvet lined box he clasped his intended object and moved to stand in front of Mal. 

            Mal instantly knew what Carr was up to. “Look, you fucking me is not going to make me forget that you acted like an ass tonight. In fact, sex will only help us avoid something that it seems like we really need to deal with.”  Malcolm’s voice only became huskier as Carrick began to slowly pull his belt from it hoops.  All moisture left his mouth as Carrick slowly began to rub the soft, ribbed skin of the belt across his body and unhook his pants.  Carrick made a slow tour of all his exposed bits.  Lightly, Carrick flicked Mal's hardened nipples with the edge of the belt, while challenging Mal’s words with his eyes.

 

            “I seem to remember promising you some sexual harassment this morning.  So what will it be, shall we go for a little Hostile Environment or maybe your choice would be a touch of  Quid Pro Quo- you know, like when I do a little something and you do a little something back.”  Carrick whispered in Mal’s ear.

 

            If their passion for each other was a rhythm, it was a dance they both knew all to well, yet it was new and refreshing each time they encountered the steps. Unknowingly, Malcolm feet were matching Carrick’s measure by measure as their bodies gently swayed to cadence of their lust.  But, Malcolm was not going to give in so easily, though he was sure that his body temperature had shot up about twenty degrees.

 

            “Damn it Carr, don’t use sex to avoid this.” Mal argued, desperately trying to find his irritation from earlier so that he could use it to clear the desire that was threatening to overwhelm him.

 

            “Ok, hostile environment it is!” Suddenly the spacious closet was drenched in darkness and Malcolm felt his arms being pulled firmly behind his back as, if he didn’t miss his guess, Carr firmly wrapped Mal’s own belt around his wrists, several times, tugging it to determine the snugness of the fit.

 

            “Shit!” Malcolm exclaimed.  He felt like he was irrationally resisting the urges of his own body to fight Carr at his own game.  He tried to conjure visions of the Mildred Parks in Caudwell’s Corporate Accounting  Division, naked. She was a seventy-seven year old great grand-mother who never failed to smell like cats, Bengay, and the popular old lady stand-by, White Linen Perfume. Oh yeah that almost did it.  His conjuring of the Mildred apparition resulted in the obvious reduction of his raging hard-on of a moment ago.

 

            But Carr was not above playing dirty.  In the dark Malcolm heard movement in front of him and realized that Carrick was kneeling in front of him.  As Malcolm tried to steel himself against whatever maneuver that Carr was about to pull.  He heard the angry pull of the zipper of his pants and then he felt the material fall against his legs and to the floor.  The wisp of the fabric falling against him to the floor, the heat coming off of his lover’s body, coupled with the complete lack of light and his arms bound behind his back worked like a miasma of eroticism that almost brought Mal to his knees.  Yet, somehow he stood strong, while clinging to the vision of a geriatric, grandma lying across a bed with a “come hither” look, rubbing her nether parts like she wanted him to take a taste. 

 

Yep, that little vignette is like a  Gay man’s kryptonite, there is no way that Carrick is going to be able to breech its defense.

 

“Oh, so my baby doesn’t want to come out and play, I bet I can fix that.” Crooned Carrick

 

Betcha can’t.  Thought Mal as he smiled in triumph to himself, as his vision of Mildred glowed brightly in his mind.

 

            Then, he felt Carrick gently handle his penis and guide something along its length and over his scotum. “Oh fuck, the cock ring!” Carrick guided Mal’s favorite toy into place and punctuated his actions with a rough lick to his balls.  Suddenly, the vision of Mildred seemed to flicker away.  As Mildred finally faded, it looked like the Bitch had the nerve to wave. 

 

Malcolm was lost.  It seemed like his erection erupted within a nanosecond and he heard Carr chuckle as the evidence of Mal’s capitulation to his hostile persuasion grew in his hands.  Mal’s body was whirling with sensation and then Carrick overloaded his circuits and senses as Carr drew Mal into his hot furnace of a mouth.  Malcolm could not collect one coherent thought and with every draw of Carr’s oral vacuum, Camille became a distant memory.

 

All the artificial restraints, served only to make him more cognizant of electrical forces running forth in his body.   The lack of light required him to focus on the heavy weight of his balls and the growing heat of his blood rushing to his stimulated length. His bound arms, made the constant brush of Carrick hair against his abdomen, something like a sensual Chinese Water Torture.  Finally, the cock ring gave him the sense that he was a dam and the integrity of his structure was being so consistently tested that it was not a question of if it broke, but more of when.  The delicious building of energy within his body made him almost vibrate in response.   The part of him that wanted to maintain the integrity of his person, wanted to tell Carrick to slow down and let him catch his breath, but the other part, that was excited beyond all good sense, wanted Carrick to continue to drive him past all endurance.

 

Suddenly, his hands became freed from the belt; he could hardly give it a second thought, but figured that the intensity of his hips meeting Carrick’s mouth loosened the belt.  Malcolm was awash with need and grabbed Carr’s head to almost brutally manage the act of fellatio, but it wasn’t enough.  He wanted to fuck Carr.  He wanted to fuck him hard.  So hard, that Carr would know, would feel with each thrust the extent of his need for him.  He wanted to tattoo with every tantalizing turn of his body the sacredness of their union.  But he also wanted to summon all of the strength to show Carrick that he did not need Carr’s protection, only his partnership.

 

“Turn around.”  Malcolm ordered. Carr new what that meant and as he turned, he pressed a tube of lube into Mal’s hands. It was at that point that Mal realized that Carr had removed his own clothes.

 

Mal made quick work of the lube and then bent his body to deeply, completely, purposefully, thrust his body into his lover’s.  With their union they both let out a sigh.  Then Mal’s work began.  Like a man possessed he pumped all his hopes, dreams and happiness into Carr.  With each withdrawl he said a benediction for their life together.  And finally, when he could ascend no farther and the dam broke.  It seemed like all the frustration from the evening, annoyance at Carrick behavior, and confusion regarding his own motives, flowed from his body and into Carr’s leaving him weightless and floating among the clouds.

Chapter 8



Camille had to work tonight.  As she let herself into her new client’s apartment, she reviewed her past week.  From the disastrous dinner with Malcolm and Carrick, on Monday, till tonight, Friday, the week had not been much of a winner.  Throughout rehearsals at the high school Camille had felt the beginnings of an unnamed distance between her and Malcolm.  It was as she feared; Carrick obvious dislike of her was a chasm that they would not be able to get past.

 

Stupid! She reprimanded herself.  An innocuous entity like “a friend” had never been a consideration in her life, now she was damn near close to tears because the threat of the loss of one was so overwhelming. Girl, you’ve got to suck it up. You have no place in your life for over dramatized sentimentality, let alone long lost longing over a man who prefers another sex. Get a grip.

 

Time to get to work. Camille realized that she had not gotten too much further than the threshold of the apartment.   She only worked through referrals, so she knew that new clients understood her specialties and were thoroughly aware of her requirements and regulations.  The penalty was steep for any infractions; the client would be fired, as well as the individual who was the referral source.  So she was pretty confident that this client would work out fairly well.

 

Her client had been very specific with her administrative office regarding the requirements of her service.  The effect of being so precise was usually good and bad.  It meant the she would not have to indulge in any guesswork regarding her client’s wishes, but she knew that she had to pay exact attention to all the details.  No small aspect of the job could be missed or miscalculated.  The other interesting aspect of the job is that she would be working with a partner.  Usually she worked alone, but the client specifically required that she worked with an assistant.  Thankfully, over the years, she has served as a mentor to several others who hoped to follow in her footsteps, one day.  In fact her partner should be arriving any moment.  It was time to get a move on.

 

Camille took in her surroundings.  The place had “man cave” written all over it.  It didn’t have anything as obvious as an eighty inch flat screened television, but the space exuded an aura of masculinity.   She always tried not to dwell on the residences of her clientele, but she could not help but see the masculine comfort that surrounded the space.

The designer must have had simple, but specific instructions. The place was comfortable, sensual and expensive.  The use of well-worn leather, verdant greens, and floor to ceiling bookcases, which covered the majority of the walls, made the space seem like a high-end hidey hole. Some of the leather bound editions made her want to pick one out and curl up in one of the well worn leathers sofas strategically placed around the room. It took the eye of one with discriminating taste to truly acknowledge the wealth and refinement it took to achieve such a casually, elegant look.   Camille was impressed.

 

            A subtle, ringing sound suddenly wafted throughout the room.  At first Camille was puzzled at what the sound could mean, and then realized that it must be the door bell announcing a visitor; she assumed her assistant for this evening had finally arrived.  Camille walked to the door and opened it to an unremarkable young lady, whose blonde tresses were wrapped in a severe bun, whose face was devoid of make-up, and was dressed, like Camille in simple black jeans with a tank top and simple black flats.  Score one; this young lady had appeared for work in an absolutely appropriate manner.  Some of Camille’s wariness of having partner for the evening dissipated.

 

            “Belinda?”  Camille queried.

 

            “Camille.”

 

            “Please, come in.” Camille greeted, waiting for Belinda to cross the threshold so that she could close the door.

As she guided the young woman to the sofa, so that they could have a quick chat she continued, “Thanks for coming out this evening to help out.  My usual partner for this type of work could not make it, but I am looking forward to working with you.  Maybe you can teach an old dog a few new tricks.” Camille laughed lightly.

 

“Ma’am,” Camille winced at the young woman’s faux pause, but Belinda was smart enough to realize her mistake. “I’m sorry, Camille, you are legendary. I can’t tell you what an honor it is to work with you tonight.  I am just happy to be here tonight, in your company.  I am here to learn.”  Belinda uttered in youthful exuberance.

 

“Belinda, I thank you for that, but I just want to make sure you are aware of all the requirements of the evening. Did you read your instructions carefully?” Camille looked at her eager charge in a manner that conveyed the seriousness of their purpose.

 

Belinda quickly composed herself, “Yes, ma..umm Camille, I have read the dossier very thoroughly, I am confident that I can meet the standards required.”

 

Camille presented a warm smile to her partner for the evening. “Okay, let’s get all the ma’ams out of your system, they have no place here tonight, once our client arrives. Let’s get to work making sure this apartment meets the client’s standards.  Okay?”

 

“Yes, Camille.”  With that, both women got to work familiarizing themselves with the space in which they were going to work and making sure the evening would met their client’s requirements.

 

*********************************************************

 

Carrick couldn’t wait for the evening to begin.  He had big plans for Mal and himself.

 

He thought back to the morning after his remarkable evening with Malcolm, in the closet of their penthouse apartment.   He came to his office with a folder awaiting him on his desk.  Like all of his mail, that was marked personal and confidential, it was sealed for his eyes only.  Quickly, he locked his door and sat on one of his office chairs and opened the envelope.  The rather thin contents were accompanied by a note.

 
Carrick,

 I wanted to get you a preliminary report, since I knew you
said the information was time sensitive.  I, of course, do not know

why you are looking into this woman, but I caution you to be careful
This woman has a lot going on and with some very interesting connections. 

                                   
I should have her full and complete report ready in a

couple of weeks.  Let me know if you need anything specific
before I’m finished.

          
Tobias

 

            Carrick almost did not feel the need to read further.  If Tobias, arguably the best private investigator in the business, says that Camille was trouble, then that was almost all that he needed to hear.   But he was dealing with Malcolm, the Patron Saint of the Strays, he would need proof to cut Camille loose. 

 

            With that thought he flipped through the two pages contained in the report, and almost fell out of his chair.  As he read the documents a smile appeared on his face that should only be accompanied with Kool Aid.

 

            I have got this woman dead to rights.  If this doesn’t shut down her “friendship” with Mal, I don’t know what will. Wait till he sees this.

 

            Then, Carrick thought better about showing Mal the information contained on the pages.  In fact, his Machiavellian mind calculated that the best way to convey the information was to make sure that Malcolm got the opportunity to see her in her natural habitat.  With that thought, Carrick picked up the telephone arranging a night that Camille would never forget, and that he would no doubt enjoy.  Carrick could not help laughing to himself as he thought, she wanted to play with the big boys; well, she was going to get dealt with like the big boys. 

 

******

            Now, he was waiting for Malcolm to get back to the office from a late afternoon meeting so the games could begin. 

 

            Abruptly, the sound of a knock at his office door brought him out of his musing of how he was going to rid himself, and Mal, of all and everything Camille Montgomery related. 

 

            “Mr. Caudwell?” His assistant, Grace, called from the other side of the door.

 

            “Grace, come in.” Carrick directed.

 

            “What do you want to do about the invitation from Lucian Michel?  His office called about an hour ago, they are attempting to firm up his guest list for the weekend.” 

 

            “The party is this weekend?”

 

            “It’s a yacht party near South Beach.  You know the kind, when all you mega-billionaire bring out all your toys to see who has the biggest.”  Grace quipped.

 

            “Very funny, very funny – tell me the particulars again.”

 

            “Well it seems Mr. Michel has rented a small island for the festivities.  There will be a party at his rented, private residence on Saturday, where everyone can arrange to meet their boat, and then you will make your way, on a midnight cruise to a private island, also rented, for a party that should last until the wee hours of the morning.”

 

            “Now remind me, why should I give a damn?”

 

            “Sir, it’s really up to you.  Mr. Michel can grease the wheels for the acquisition of the French Cosmetic’s Company that you were interested in purchasing.  He seems to know everyone.”

 

            “Okay, Okay.  Which boat do we have wintering in Florida?”

 

            “I believe it is, “The Snake Charmer,” but I can confirm that with the Captain of the fleet and let you know definitively.”

 

            “Excellent, you can RSVP for Malcolm and myself, I can be reasonably sure that we are going to need a change of scenery after tonight.  It will be nice to relax on the water.”

 

            “Sir, if I can be so bold, are you both…doing well?” Grace looked somewhat uncomfortable with the topic.  “But through the years of knowing them both, she had caught some subtle differences with their interaction, with each other, since earlier in the week.”

 

            Carrick was willing to give Grace some rope.  She had been with him for a long time, if anyone else had asked the same or similar question, he would have had them for dinner.  “Why do you ask?  What have you noticed?”

 

            “Mr. Caudwell, don’t get me wrong, you and Mr. Chambers have always been more than professional in the office, but lately Mr. Chambers has been….introspective? You know he has been walking around rather somber and quiet.  He just has not been his usual self.  I just wanted to offer that if anything is the matter, please let me know, if there is anything that I can do to help.”

 

            “Thanks Grace, but I think I got everything handled.  I just had to root out a weasel and tonight I am going to put it out of its misery.” He added with a self-satisfied smile.

 

            “Well, I am glad to hear it.  Also, Mr. Chambers called about twenty minutes ago and said that he would be waiting for you at your private parking area in about thirty minutes.  I hope you both have a wonderful evening.”

 

            “Thanks Grace, I think our evening will be perfect.  Please, enjoy your weekend as well.”

 

            “Thank you sir, I will make sure that your travel itinerary is emailed to you later tonight.  Enjoy your trip.” With that, Grace turned and left the office.

 

******************************************************

 

            “Carr, if we are going to be flying to Miami in the morning wouldn’t it be better to just go to the penthouse tonight so that we can pack?  I don’t know what your hedonistic mind has conjured up, but I am full from dinner and after such a crazy week, I just want to pass out.

 

            Carrick looked at his lover as they rode up the freight elevator to their pied-à-terre located in the Meatpacking District.  The used it as their place to hide out from the world. It was small, but it was comfy.  “Mal, you know after all these years I am still crazy in love with you, right?”

 

            Mal smirked at Carrick, it still amazed him that this man who had such a reputation for ruthlessness was such a goof ball.  They have been to many a board meeting where he would look across the table at Carrick and see what many thought was Carrick in intense contemplation over some fact and figure that was currently being pitched at him at the moment. Only for Malcolm to know that Carrick was really trying to determine how long it would take him to get Mal nude after the meeting. He loved the man so much, at times, it hurt.

 

            “Carrick, if this declaration of love has anything to do with Monday, forget it.  I am over it.  I should not have pushed you and Camille together the way I did.  That was stupid of me.  I just want us to get back on track and not to let this ridiculousness have any more importance than it should.”

 

            For a moment, Carrick paused in implementing his plan for the evening.  Something in the back of his mind was telling him that he could turn Malcolm and himself right around and Mal would not be the wiser.  But his arrogance spoke in a louder voice, and it said that in war you must destroy your enemy.  So he took the keys out of his pocket and opened the door to the apartment.

 

            As both men entered the apartment they were blown away.  Most of the free surfaces were sprinkled with blood red candles.  The room was lit with an inflamed garnet hue.  The effect gave the room a lustful, hellish look with the shadows of the flames licking the walls.

 

            “What the fuck! Carrick what did you do?  This is amazing!”  Malcolm stuttered as he reviewed in all the delights in the living room.  It was hard to take it all in.  Champagne was chilling at the sideboard and a platter of chocolate covered strawberries was placed an arms length away.  At close inspection, it seemed that the Champagne had a reddish hue to it as well.  The room smelled unbelievable.  With his inexperienced nose Mal thought the sent was something like pomegranates with a hint of Egyptian musk.  Of course the piece de resistance was the blood red rose petals leading to the bedroom; an open invitation to follow.

 

            The effect was something like the Yellow Brick Road, in The Wiz.  Malcolm had no choice but to allow himself to be led across the room by the tiny, wispy, floral guides all the while commenting on some little touch that Carrick had added to the room to encourage the titillating ambiance.  Malcolm realized that Carrick was uncharacteristically quiet as he followed along, but that in itself didn’t raise any concerns with him, since he knew that Carrick loved to watch a person’s reaction to surprise as much as he enjoyed giving it.

 

            Finally, as he opened the door to the bedroom and looked in he was less than shocked.  On the oversized four poster bed he saw two women engaged in the act of giving each other the ultimate pleasure.  No one did decadent like Carrick.  The woman lying on the bed was almost luminescent with her pearly white skin and her ash blonde hair.  Her hair was artfully curled about her face making her seem like she was straight from some hair product ad on television.   As Malcolm watched, her body was completely contracted in response to the light nips to her clit that the woman on top was giving the blonde.   Mal was transfixed and the Blonde’s ruby red dripping mouth moved in a silent “Oh” as responded to her lover’s stimulation.  The play of candles in room made the wall of the room bare silent witness to the obscene performance being acted out on the mattress covered stage.

 

            He was about to turn to Carrick with a grin when something about the woman on top caught his attention.  His heart froze.  As he stepped further in the room he paid closer attention to the Black woman taking long, luxurious tongue laps at the Blonde, who was writhing in pleasure.  The Black woman’s skin glistened in the candle light and she seemed so intent in her execution of pleasure for her partner.  Her body was encased in a red, patent leather bustier with matching panties, the outfit seemed poured on.  The area where her breast should have been restrained was cleverly missing and her breasts were supported from under the garment, still her breast essentially hung free.  With every stroke of her tongue it seemed that the blonde was cruelly pulling on the coffee colored woman’s nipples in response.

 

            There was no doubt that the scene was hot, and then it hit him why the Black woman seemed so familiar.

           

            “Camille?”

 

**********************************

 

            Camille and Belinda or Chameleon and Blaze began to work the moment that she heard the front door close.  Earlier, as they made the apartment ready for the evening they worked out the logistics of who was going to do what and orchestrated between themselves the tone and pace of the evening.  Their client, though new, was very specific in his needs and Chameleon prided herself on making sure that all of her clients received all, and more, than they paid for.  It was the least she could do for the outrageous prices she charged, and she required that this gentleman pay triple.

 

            Chameleon was pleased with Blaze, she was truly a pro and she could see that she would have a long future as an Escort, if she chooses and kept her head on straight.  As she continued to bring her partner to up the steps to her passionate climb to orgasm, she heard the door to the bedroom open.  This was the important part, ingénues generally would stop the scene to create some skanky pornographic pose to entice the client.  But Chameleon knew better.  She went on with the display, as if she hadn’t heard the intrusion.  The key was to entice the client to join in, and then there weren’t any unpleasant or uncomfortable silences or inaction while everyone figured out what to do.  Continuing the action allowed the client to seamlessly join it without feeling like he, or she, was on the spot.

 

            As she moved to thrust two fingers into Blazes burning pussy she gave Blaze a final lustful lick and then heard a sound that made her loose all of her professionalism and look up.

 

            “Camille?”

 

            Oh Shit, how it the hell did he get in here? Camille closed her eyes for a faction of a second, as if to wake herself up from a dream.

 

            “Camille, is that you?”

 

            Camille looked toward the door and saw Malcolm standing a couple of feet inside its entrance and also noted, a little to one side, stood Carrick behind him, with a look of triumph on his face.  In a flash, she knew that her cunning, tormentor had set her up, and she had fallen right in the lion’s trap.  But she would be damned if she would let him enjoy his victory, punctuated with a pathetic display of sniveling from her.

 

As her heart broke, she fully kneeled on the bed while arranging her plush raven colored locks around her shoulders; giving them pure  scintillating seductress,  adding to the impression that her intruders had interrupted her from the serious business of procuring liquid lust from her bedmate.  Conversely, as Camille indulged in a moment of silent mental hysterics she considered that if anyone could look inside her, at that moment, that they would be able to see how dry and brittle she really felt, there wasn’t a hint of moisture anywhere in her tonight.  Thank God for extra rich lip gloss, because she was having trouble directing moisture to her parched mouth.

 

            “Actually Mal, I don’t think it’s Camille.  You like to be called Chameleon, when you are eatin’ out another woman’s pussy.  Isn’t that right honey?” Carrick asked with false sincerity.  “In fact before you answer you might want to fix that up.”  Carr advised as he made swiping motion around his mouth, with a look of pure mirth on his face.

 

            Everything in Camille wanted to charge at Carrick and drop kick him into next week, but she would never give him the satisfaction.  The thousands of dollars that she paid for a private trainer, in the martial arts, would immediately be worth it for the opportunity to put Carrick flat on his ass.   Instead, she used her tongue to trail a leisurely line around her lips, making it evident that she would not let any miniscule amount of Blaze’s pussy juice go to waste.  As Camille sat up from between her partner’s legs, and arranged her body so that the room’s new occupants had a full frontal view of her body.  She addressed her next comments to Carrick.

 

            “I guess I should be glad that you did not leave instructions for me to ware a strap-on and fuck Blaze in the ass, because that would have been reeeeaaaally awkward.” Camille purred, with her contempt for him plainly written on her face.  As she talked, Carrick had to subtly hold onto the door behind him, because Camille had just treated him to an unobstructed view of her crotch-less panties. Sweet Jesus!

Chapter 9 

Carrick stood, grasping for dear life the door knob behind him, almost frozen by the sight of Camille's rose petal like womanhood unfurl to display her mesmerizingly moist and inviting bounty, framed by two thin strips of fire engine red, patent leather. Quickly, Carrick cut his eyes to Malcolm and saw a curious hunger that he knew all too well, it was a look that was usually saved for him.Carrick was pissed.

"You just don't know when to quit." He pushed away from the door and drew near the bed.From the corner of his eyes, he registered that the blonde had snapped out of her orgasm induced lethargy and seemed to look between Camille and him like they were prime time television.

"Apparently, neither do you.You went through all this trouble to set up what? My humiliation?You wanted me to see you and Malcolm at the door (after you showed me to be whore that I am, of course) and you were waiting for me to fall in a heap of apologies and possibly throw in some tearful hysterics for good measure?I am pleased to confess, that I won't be able to accommodate you, you silly Ass.Camille sneered as she kneeled, resting her bottom on her heels, throwing her arms about as she stared him down.

Carrick was seeing red, and it wasn't because of her outfit, "Maybe you're right, this scenario may have been too tame, maybe I should have requested you in a Gimp Suit, and then we could have skipped right over the  autoerotic, and went straight for the asphyxiation.” He ground out as he moved next to the ominously quiet Malcolm.

“Throwing the glass against the door was a little over the top, don’t you think? But who am I kidding, we passed, “over the top” about two hours ago.” The deep timbre of his lover’s voice resonated throughout the room. Carrick startled at the sound of Mal’s voice.

Carr didn’t know how long he had been standing there, staring at the results of his temper, but Malcolm’s two cents was not appreciated. Hurricane Camille, a Category Five storm for sure, the impact of the devastation still to be determined, just blew through their condo and Mal had jokes.

Carrick was bone-tired and more than a little drunk. His mind flashed on the sound of his inner voice telling him his plan might not have been as smart as he thought a voice which he of course completely disregarded. What he would not give for a do-over right now. He could have told Malcolm to forget going into the condo and they could be at a restaurant finishing a meal, or at the penthouse having a marathon session of love-making. There is nothing like being pleasantly exhausted before one has to get on a plane for a few hours; you are too tired to be conscious for the take-off, or the landing. If only he could just simply stop the tape at the time they arrived at the front door and press rewind. But generally he was old enough, realistic enough, and usually smart enough to know that you can’t outrun a shit storm, you just hunker down, wait for it to stop and then access the damage.

Mal continued in a bored tone, “I’m just saying, that’s about five hundred dollars in premium booze and crystal that you just took out on the door. Besides, it was a little melodramatic.” As Carrick continued to stare at the mess in front of him, the disembodied voice behind him continued. “By the way, just in case you are wondering, you don’t wear melodrama well, I like you far better in custom tailored Armani – you know I love how the cut hugs your ass.”

Carrick turned incredulously toward the shadowed figure, leaning against the wall with his hands tucked into his suit pant’s pockets. What. The. Fuck. Malcolm. This is not the time for your brand of humor.

Malcolm’s whole demeanor said, “Trust me, I’m not laughing.”
Mal felt Carrick’s eyes upon him, yet he kept his eyes fixed on a spot on the ceiling. Somehow a constellation of spheres were displaying themselves above him, Malcolm watched as they subtlety shifted turning a lighter and then darker shades of gray. All the time trying to figure out how he could manage this conversation with Carrick without it disintegrating into an all out yelling match.

Carrick felt like he was in a bad episode of the “Twilight Zone”. Once Camille had left, he fully expected Malcolm to charge out of the bedroom intent on avenging his latest new cause. But there Mall stood looking calm, cool and collected, but not meeting Carrick’s eyes. Carrick felt in some ways like the five year old wayward child that he once was, in a time when he still cared about his parent’s ignorance of him, and he did all types of devilishness to be noticed; even when the result was punishment. It was during those times, when his parents would acknowledge his existence that he would peer into their chagrined laced eyes and find the truth of how much he was a disappointment to them.

Somehow he felt like that little boy again willing the person, whom he loved, to strike him rather than look into eyes that held disillusionment and disdain. But in the past, his blue-blood family would never deign to exhibit such a common emotion like anger, and would never consider feeling anything to the extent that it would result in physical contact with their child.

He knew he wasn’t five anymore and even his sluggish mind could grasp the fact that he wasn’t dealing with emotionally estranged parents, but his life’s partner, whom he knew and whom knew him better than perhaps few people in the world. One thing that Carr learned quickly about Mal was that he hated bullies. He only had contempt for people who were mean for the sake of just expressing the emotion. He was praying, in Mal’s eyes, that he had not strayed too far across that line.

Damn, if I’d just thought this through, for a second, rationally, I would have played this out so very differently.

Now, he had no doubt that once he had left the bedroom, Camille embraced her role as the victim against his Big Bad Wolf and royally screw him, or Mal. And truth be told, that little scenario was wiggling around in his liquor logged brain as well. Did she really fuck Mal? Where they going at it while he was in the living room intently dedicated to drinking himself into another universe? Did he just play high takes poker with one of the few relationships that he gave a damn about, and loose spectacularly?

A curious ball of sensation traveled along his spine. The emotion was a disconcerting mix of anxiety, tension and uncertainty. Carrick felt real, personal fear for perhaps the first time in his life.

The cold silken tone of his lover’s voice woke him from his inner thoughts. “What exactly did you hope to accomplish with this little setup tonight, or is the answer as obvious as it seems?” Malcolm was still leaning against the wall, but he had drew one of the legs up so that the flat bottoms of his shoes was resting against the wall and now his arm were crossed against his chest and he was giving eye contact like a sniper who had found his target.

For a moment, Carrick was distracted by the taunt stretch of fabric pulled against the contours of Mal’s muscles. Malcolm at that moment looked better that any Calvin Kline ad at its best. But he snapped out of it once he got a glimpse of Malcolm’s eyes pinning him like he was a specimen in a Petri dish.
“She was setting you up, I wanted to neutralize her-you needed to know the truth.”


Malcolm laughed so harshly, the sound seemed to be pulled violently through his throat. “Neutralized huh, I guess I should drop to my knees and thank God the idea to put a hit out on her didn’t come to you first.

For some inane reason Carrick felt the inexplicable urge to actually shuffle his feet. Mal was using a technique that he usually used with his executives when they said something particularly stupid. Repeat their statement back to them so that they could benefit from the treat of hearing how ridiculous their inane utterance really was.

“What has possessed you? I’ve known you to be justifiably hard on people, when you need to. You especially require those who work for you to perform at their highest level and you do not accept anything less, but what happened here, tonight, was beneath you.”

Was Mal’s voice infused with a hint of contempt?

Upon hearing the phantom strain of judgment in Mal’s voice, the curious mix of alcohol and entitlement did little to flush out all of the stubbornness in Carrick. His stupid streak had reanimated itself during Mal’s censure. “No Mal, actually this is exact what I do. I protect those I care about unquestioningly, if there is a threat to them or their well being, I make sure that threat no longer exists. Camille was a liar and a con artist at best. Her tactics were eventually going to hurt you. I shut her down.” Carrick stared directly at Malcolm, his golden eyes glittered coldly.

“No. I won’t accept that this obnoxious behavior is just you in protection mode. I have never known you to maliciously go after anyone. You hurt her, and then tried to break and humiliate her. To top it all off, you made sure you had an audience. That I was that audience. You wanted me to participate in your kill. Never mind that I am man that you rely on to help you navigate some of the largest divisions in your multi billion dollar corporation; you apparently and inexplicably don’t have enough faith in me to chew gum and walk at the same time.” Malcolm ground out as he shifted so and his feet were resting hip length apart, with his hands on his hips. Somehow, to Carrick, Malcolm seemed a hair’s breath away-they were literally nose to nose. Carr could literally feel the tiny puffs of air that flowed out of Mal’s mouth as he carefully articulated every word. At another time their position would have been erotic in its intensity. Now, it felt like a hostile standoff.

Carrick knew he had to back down. “That is not true Malcolm, you are probably the best person I know. I also know that you have a soft spot for everything that seems fragile. That package, decorated with tits and ass, which just left this condo may have read “FRAGILE”, but it just goes to show you that labels don’t mean shit anymore.”

He knew his emotions were all over the place and the liquor was not helping matters, but his mind kept running back to what Camille had said before she left. Abruptly, he blurted out, “Did you just have sex with her?”

“What?” Malcolm was so surprised by the question he almost fell back into the wall.

“Did. You. Fuck. Her?” Carrick ground out, trying to figure out whether Mal’s look of shock was authentic, or just an effort to deflect the question and buy time.

“Okay, first of all you are cut off from the juice for the night. Why in hell would you think I would sleep with Camille when you are about twenty feet away?”

“She said it.” But Malcolm’s answer did not soothe Carrick, if anything it brought up more questions. “So you would sleep with her if I wasn’t around?”

“Camille may have said it, but it wasn’t the truth. She was probably giving you back a little of what you tried to dish out this evening. If anyone knows what I look like after I have had sex it should be you. Do I have the postcoital glow about me?”

Carr looked directly in Mal’s eyes and what he saw immediately made him stand down. Malcolm’s pupils definitely had a glow, but it was the sheen of someone who was working hard to control his anger, yet something else was also in their depths.

“No you didn’t fuck her.” Carrick turned away from Malcolm and walked to the couch to sit heavily. “But you wanted to.”




“Throwing the glass against the door was a little over the top, don’t you think? But who am I kidding, we passed, “over the top” about two hours ago.” The deep timbre of his lover’s voice resonated throughout the room. Carrick startled at the sound of Mal’s voice.

Carr didn’t know how long he had been standing there, staring at the results of his temper, but Malcolm’s two cents was not appreciated. Hurricane Camille, a Category Five storm for sure, the impact of the devastation still to be determined, just blew through their condo and Mal had jokes.

Carrick was bone-tired and more than a little drunk. His mind flashed on the sound of his inner voice telling him his plan might not have been as smart as he thought a voice which he of course completely disregarded. What he would not give for a do-over right now. He could have told Malcolm to forget going into the condo and they could be at a restaurant finishing a meal, or at the penthouse having a marathon session of love-making. There is nothing like being pleasantly exhausted before one has to get on a plane for a few hours; you are too tired to be conscious for the take-off, or the landing. If only he could just simply stop the tape at the time they arrived at the front door and press rewind. But generally he was old enough, realistic enough, and usually smart enough to know that you can’t outrun a shit storm, you just hunker down, wait for it to stop and then access the damage.

Mal continued in a bored tone, “I’m just saying, that’s about five hundred dollars in premium booze and crystal that you just took out on the door. Besides, it was a little melodramatic.” As Carrick continued to stare at the mess in front of him, the disembodied voice behind him continued. “By the way, just in case you are wondering, you don’t wear melodrama well, I like you far better in custom tailored Armani – you know I love how the cut hugs your ass.”

Carrick turned incredulously toward the shadowed figure, leaning against the wall with his hands tucked into his suit pant’s pockets. What. The. Fuck. Malcolm. This is not the time for your brand of humor.

Malcolm’s whole demeanor said, “Trust me, I’m not laughing.”
Mal felt Carrick’s eyes upon him, yet he kept his eyes fixed on a spot on the ceiling. Somehow a constellation of spheres were displaying themselves above him, Malcolm watched as they subtlety shifted turning a lighter and then darker shades of gray. All the time trying to figure out how he could manage this conversation with Carrick without it disintegrating into an all out yelling match.

Carrick felt like he was in a bad episode of the “Twilight Zone”. Once Camille had left, he fully expected Malcolm to charge out of the bedroom intent on avenging his latest new cause. But there Mall stood looking calm, cool and collected, but not meeting Carrick’s eyes. Carrick felt in some ways like the five year old wayward child that he once was, in a time when he still cared about his parent’s ignorance of him, and he did all types of devilishness to be noticed; even when the result was punishment. It was during those times, when his parents would acknowledge his existence that he would peer into their chagrined laced eyes and find the truth of how much he was a disappointment to them.

Somehow he felt like that little boy again willing the person, whom he loved, to strike him rather than look into eyes that held disillusionment and disdain. But in the past, his blue-blood family would never deign to exhibit such a common emotion like anger, and would never consider feeling anything to the extent that it would result in physical contact with their child.

He knew he wasn’t five anymore and even his sluggish mind could grasp the fact that he wasn’t dealing with emotionally estranged parents, but his life’s partner, whom he knew and whom knew him better than perhaps few people in the world. One thing that Carr learned quickly about Mal was that he hated bullies. He only had contempt for people who were mean for the sake of just expressing the emotion. He was praying, in Mal’s eyes, that he had not strayed too far across that line.

Damn, if I’d just thought this through, for a second, rationally, I would have played this out so very differently.

Now, he had no doubt that once he had left the bedroom, Camille embraced her role as the victim against his Big Bad Wolf and royally screw him, or Mal. And truth be told, that little scenario was wiggling around in his liquor logged brain as well. Did she really fuck Mal? Where they going at it while he was in the living room intently dedicated to drinking himself into another universe? Did he just play high takes poker with one of the few relationships that he gave a damn about, and loose spectacularly?

A curious ball of sensation traveled along his spine. The emotion was a disconcerting mix of anxiety, tension and uncertainty. Carrick felt real, personal fear for perhaps the first time in his life.

The cold silken tone of his lover’s voice woke him from his inner thoughts. “What exactly did you hope to accomplish with this little setup tonight, or is the answer as obvious as it seems?” Malcolm was still leaning against the wall, but he had drew one of the legs up so that the flat bottoms of his shoes was resting against the wall and now his arm were crossed against his chest and he was giving eye contact like a sniper who had found his target.

For a moment, Carrick was distracted by the taunt stretch of fabric pulled against the contours of Mal’s muscles. Malcolm at that moment looked better that any Calvin Kline ad at its best. But he snapped out of it once he got a glimpse of Malcolm’s eyes pinning him like he was a specimen in a Petri dish.
“She was setting you up, I wanted to neutralize her-you needed to know the truth.”


Malcolm laughed so harshly, the sound seemed to be pulled violently through his throat. “Neutralized huh, I guess I should drop to my knees and thank God the idea to put a hit out on her didn’t come to you first.

For some inane reason Carrick felt the inexplicable urge to actually shuffle his feet. Mal was using a technique that he usually used with his executives when they said something particularly stupid. Repeat their statement back to them so that they could benefit from the treat of hearing how ridiculous their inane utterance really was.

“What has possessed you? I’ve known you to be justifiably hard on people, when you need to. You especially require those who work for you to perform at their highest level and you do not accept anything less, but what happened here, tonight, was beneath you.”

Was Mal’s voice infused with a hint of contempt?

Upon hearing the phantom strain of judgment in Mal’s voice, the curious mix of alcohol and entitlement did little to flush out all of the stubbornness in Carrick. His stupid streak had reanimated itself during Mal’s censure. “No Mal, actually this is exact what I do. I protect those I care about unquestioningly, if there is a threat to them or their well being, I make sure that threat no longer exists. Camille was a liar and a con artist at best. Her tactics were eventually going to hurt you. I shut her down.” Carrick stared directly at Malcolm, his golden eyes glittered coldly.

“No. I won’t accept that this obnoxious behavior is just you in protection mode. I have never known you to maliciously go after anyone. You hurt her, and then tried to break and humiliate her. To top it all off, you made sure you had an audience. That I was that audience. You wanted me to participate in your kill. Never mind that I am man that you rely on to help you navigate some of the largest divisions in your multi billion dollar corporation; you apparently and inexplicably don’t have enough faith in me to chew gum and walk at the same time.” Malcolm ground out as he shifted so and his feet were resting hip length apart, with his hands on his hips. Somehow, to Carrick, Malcolm seemed a hair’s breath away-they were literally nose to nose. Carr could literally feel the tiny puffs of air that flowed out of Mal’s mouth as he carefully articulated every word. At another time their position would have been erotic in its intensity. Now, it felt like a hostile standoff.

Carrick knew he had to back down. “That is not true Malcolm, you are probably the best person I know. I also know that you have a soft spot for everything that seems fragile. That package, decorated with tits and ass, which just left this condo may have read “FRAGILE”, but it just goes to show you that labels don’t mean shit anymore.”

He knew his emotions were all over the place and the liquor was not helping matters, but his mind kept running back to what Camille had said before she left. Abruptly, he blurted out, “Did you just have sex with her?”

“What?” Malcolm was so surprised by the question he almost fell back into the wall.

“Did. You. Fuck. Her?” Carrick ground out, trying to figure out whether Mal’s look of shock was authentic, or just an effort to deflect the question and buy time.

“Okay, first of all you are cut off from the juice for the night. Why in hell would you think I would sleep with Camille when you are about twenty feet away?”

“She said it.” But Malcolm’s answer did not soothe Carrick, if anything it brought up more questions. “So you would sleep with her if I wasn’t around?”

“Camille may have said it, but it wasn’t the truth. She was probably giving you back a little of what you tried to dish out this evening. If anyone knows what I look like after I have had sex it should be you. Do I have the postcoital glow about me?”

Carr looked directly in Mal’s eyes and what he saw immediately made him stand down. Malcolm’s pupils definitely had a glow, but it was the sheen of someone who was working hard to control his anger, yet something else was also in their depths.

“No you didn’t fuck her.” Carrick turned away from Malcolm and walked to the couch to sit heavily. “But you wanted to.”

"You little bastard! Now you want me dead? What the fuck did I ever do to you?Malcolm wants me to meet you because it's obvious that he is in complete, ridiculous love with you, though I cannot imagine why, I try to be nice, you don't bother to make an effort, you are down right pissy at dinner and now you have a hate on for me that is down right psychotic.Let me guess, you are off your meds. "Camille shouted as she raised herself to a kneeling position on the bed, directly in front of Carrick, with her chest heaving.

 

It was then that Carrick noticed that she had red highlights strewn in her abounding, abundant hair, giving him the impression that she was an amber hued, exquisite version of Persephone, the Goddess of Hell. Carrick unknowingly began to stride toward her, she was so beautiful, so passionate, that his choices seemed to be either to, fuck her or kill her.

 

Her next words stopped him in his tracks, "I swear on all that is holy, if you take one more step toward me, I will do my best to put you in a wheel chair, permanently. You might tell the world some trumped up story of why the King of Caudwell Industries is rockin' a chair from The Scooter Store, attached to a colostomy bag, but everyone in THIS room will all know it was because this WOMAN KICKED YOUR ASS"A intense look, filled with the promise pain,glowed in her eyes.

 

Carrick was a big man, and he would never hit a woman, but this one just made him loose his mind.He hadn't realized he had made a move in her direction and his head felt like it was about detonate.This woman had the nerve to think that she could go toe to toe with him?

 

"In your dreams! I wouldn't get any closer to you, if you had gold bullions stashed in your pussy." Carrick flung out.

 

"Are you both finished yet?" Malcolm's calm voice cut through the raucous exchange.

 

Both Carrick and Camille were visibly startled as they remembered that there where other occupants in the room.

 

"Carrick, leave." Malcolm quietly spoke as his eyes focused on Camille.

 

"Mal, what the hell! You must be kidding me.You want me to go while Chameleon and her girlfriend stay?Now, you know what she is about, you don't have to discuss it. Let's just leave so that she can pack her shit up and go."Carrick looked at Camille, "And please be aware that every item in this condo is catalogued and accounted for, if you have sticky fingers, you will be prosecuted."

 

"Oh, I can see how that will go. When the police officer asks me how I got into your cubby hole in the first place, I can tell him I was contacted by Mr. Carrick Caudwell to provide a little girl on girl action for him and his boyfriend." Camille offered with a smirk."Who do you think I should give my story to first, The Inquirer or Inside Edition?"

 

"You are some piece of work!"

 

"Must take one to know one!" She winced, a little, at how childish she sounded.

 

Malcolm growled out, "I don't know what to do first, should I take off my belt and spank you both or should I just fucking leave.Carrick, GET THE FUCK OUT!"

 

The room was so quiet; the occupants could almost hear the flickering of the candles.Carrick could count on one hand the number of times that he had ever heard Mal raise his voice.He looked at his lover and saw the strain on his face.Suddenly, the enormity of this mess, a mess he created, settled on his shoulders.Carrick cast a look over his shoulder and opened the door to leave.Before the stepped through it, he heard Camille speak.

 

"Blaze, you can leave as well.Thank you for your help tonight.Please note that your payment will be awaiting you in your account."

 

Belinda had a look in her eye and Camille knew she was about to do something outrageous, which would probably not help her cause. As Belinda sat up, she moved closer toward Camille and leaned in to leveled a kiss on her that would have done the closing scene of any "chick flick" proud.Belinda wrung every particle of passion and enticement out of the action.She left Camille flushed and breathless.

 

"Anytime you need a partner, please give me a call." Belinda practically purred as she unfolded herself off of the bed and glided past Carrick, without acknowledging his presence.Every other person's eye in the room followed her path.

 

Carrick followed her muttering something like, "Do you see this bullshit?"

 

Then Camille was left alone in the room with Malcolm.

 

All of the sudden she could not look at him.She was terrified of whatever she might find in his eyes.She recognized inside her soul that her fiery exchange with Carrick was just camouflage in an effort to avoid this; judgment from the man whom she most wanted to respect her.

 

"Do you want to get changed?"Malcolm offered in his calm soothing voice.

 

Her head was bowed, for some reason she was extraordinarily consumed with looking at the manicure on her folded hands, resting on her lap, but she heard him and nodded her head.

 

Somehow she found the strength in her legs to stand.She made an almost hilarious attempt to brush down the back of her outfit, but remembered, that there was no material behind her to manipulate.She was in a patent leather crotchless thong. Camille to a breath and moved toward the ensuite, bathroom door.As she opened the door, her head tilted up in his direction.

 

Her voice was a quiet whisper, "Will you be here when I come out?" she asked.

 

For the entire time since he had entered the room, he really had not moved an inch.

 

"Of course."He promised.

Chapter Ten

At the click of the bathroom closing, Malcolm closed his eyes and took a long, lingering breath.Even after everyone had left the room, he found himself unable to move.Everything on, in and around him seemed tight and tense, harshly he pulled at his tie to release its grip around his throat.Finally, he released the first few buttons on his shirt, while stretching his neck and bending his head from side to side, in an effort to gain more oxygen.

 

So much wrongness had occurred in such a few moments, it was hard for him to pick it apart; to find the corner that could be opened so that he could digest it.Camille an escort…. Carrick and Camille at each others throats….Carrick setting everyone up…… the pain in Carrick's eyes as he left the room….It was too much. His mind felt pulled in hundred different directions, yet he didn't have the energy to make any of the first steps towards resolution.

 

Suddenly his equilibrium was shot.Thank God, next to the bed there was a chair and he stumbled his way to it. While gripping the chair arms, he eased himself into the chair's expensive comfort.Yet, even with his eyes closed, he could still feel the flickering of the candles and they seemed to mock him in his confusion. The purposeful seduction of their flame felt harsh and contrived. He heaved himself out of the chair and slowly began the tour around the room, blowing out all the waxy columns that had previously illuminated the space. After he finished his quiet chore and the room was flooded by the dark, his eyes adjusted while the moon cast its soothing glow through the window.

 

Somehow he must have found his way back to the chair because he did not know how much time had gone by before he heard her voice call into the darkened room. "Malcolm?"

 

"I'm here. Do you want me to turn on the lights?"Malcolm turned to the sound of the bathroom door closing.

 

"No, this will be easier in the dark." Camille answered somberly as she stood by the bathroom door.

 

Camille watched him for a moment.One side of his ebony perfected face was backlit.Though he had answered her, he made no movement. He was a statue of perfection.Camille's mind flashed on a series of artsy black and white photos that she saw at showing a few years ago. The examples of artist's expression were found solely in black and white photos and it was the first time that she realized that photos in that medium seemed to articulate their creator's point of view more effectively than other work that she had witnessed in color.Maybe, it was the mind was required to infer more or the medium required a more faultless eye.From this view of Mal, illuminated by evening's orb, she saw the faultless lines of his face, the sharp, seducing curve of his lips, married to the pronounced planes of the cheeks. Tyson Beckford could only dream of obtaining such clarity of countenance.With a sigh Camille moved closer to where Mal was sitting.

 

Malcolm felt her closeness.He wasn't sure what made him do it, but he held out his hand.He waited a beat and then felt her silky, smooth palm grasp his own.Finally, Malcolm drew her in so that she could sit across his lap. She fit so perfectly under his chin and he tucked the rest of her body under his arm. Then there was silence.

 

For a moment, Camille allowed herself to bask in the feel of his protection and the warmth within his arms. It had been a long time since she had felt the security of being intimate with someone without the need of having her full battalion of defenses in place.Considering the earlier events of the evening, this moment may not be the time to let it all go. But she was so tired. Camille was exhausted from allowing anyone with the requisite amount of money and references to have full access to her body, and mind, while still trying to protect her soul.The part of her, she knew, if it were to become contaminated, would make her indistinguishable from her sisters, working in a drug induced haze, on the corner offering a blow job for twenty dollars.

 

Malcolm felt Camille melt into him.He wanted to talk to her, offer any assistance that was helpful, but his thoughts were a jumble.Or perhaps, for the first time in his life, he could not organize his thoughts.Malcolm realized that he usually wasn't one for avoidance, but Malcolm had been dodging the attraction that he had been feeling for Camille for some time.That is until, unknowingly, Carrick had forced the issue.Malcolm felt like he was on the precipice of loosing it all, just because he had not been honest with himself or with Carrick.

 

The time had come.

 

"Camille"

 

"Malcolm" The both called each others name at the same time.The moment had shifted from being comfortable to self-conscious in a heart beat.They each gave a nervous chuckle.

 

"You know that I can't offer any apologies." Camille began as she stared sightlessly out the window."To be honest I probably would have never told you about it.Not because I am ashamed of who I am, because frankly I am not.I have built a strong business in a field that is increasingly competitive.I would have kept this part of my life away from you because it has been refreshing to have a friendship without the adjustments that are usually made when someone knows about my work." Camille watched as the first drops of rain began to hit the bedroom's window. "Now, at least, you know it all, you know who I am."

 

"Oh Camille," Malcolm drew her closer to his chest, closer to his heart."I know what you do, but what I saw tonight does not sum up who you are."As he snuggled her into him and inhaled her scent, he contemplated his next words.

 

"I guess, what I don't understand is why?You are one of the most intelligent women that I've ever met.You were integral in helping put together my proposal to Carrick for creating a joint venture with Frazier High School and Caudwell Industries.Your ideas were inspired. You took the nuts and bolts of my plan and made it flow to another level.Why do you feel the need to do this?"Malcolm question as he shifted to look into her wide solemn eyes.

 

"Mal, I have made myself into the woman you see today. I have had to be smart about every move I have made.I studied every aspect of this and believe me it is harder work than you will ever know.But the fact remains, I started without out a lot of options and I worked hard to be this; a mixture of a character I created called Chameleon and the girl that has always been here, Camille. The hows and the whys don't matter that much anymore-this is me." Camille slid off of his lap and stepped closer to the window.

 

"I know you are really angry with Carrick, to be honest I am too, but no more mad than I am with myself." Malcolm offered to he back. His eyes studied the beauty of her shape from the behind.His body was overcome with an awareness that he had only shared with one other person, Carrick.

 

She cast an amused look at him, "Malcolm, I know you are a good guy, and even you cannot make yourself the villain in the scene that was played out tonight.I can't believe that he's your guy.I mean, the man you told me that you admired and cared about so much.All I saw was an insecure, possessive, insulting, annoying, crazy…."Camille pressed her forehead to the window pane and knew that bad mouthing Carrick would get her no where."Mal, you deserve so much more.Is it that he doesn't want anyone to ever get close to you, but him; or am I just missing something?"

 

"Camille he gave it all up for me." Something in his voice tinged his smoky baritone with a plea for understanding.

 

"Malcolm, I hate to tell you this but your boyfriend is a billionaire and he hasn't given up a thing."Camille added with a bite in her voice.

 

"No you misunderstand me," Malcolm sat up and rested his elbows on his knees, for a moment he studied the knuckle on his hand and then looked up at her. "Carrick had relationships with men and women before he met me.I think he managed his private life with the belief that he would eventually meet a woman that he could marry and do the things that Caudwells' have done for generations.Then he met me, and we just clicked, we filled in the missing spaces for each other and his whole life shifted.He cared so much about keeping what we had, that he sacrificed so much of what he wanted.I don't want him to let that go.I don't want to be the cause of that.

 

"Mal, I think I understand what you are saying, what I don't understand is what any of this has to do with me? What does this have to do with anything that happened tonight?

 

"I don't know.I'm sorry. I don't know what I am doing and I think I set this whole catastrophe in motion.I want him to have everything he wants for himself and maybe I have been coming around to the idea of how we could achieve it and both be satisfied."

 

Malcolm got up and moved toward Camille.While her back was turned from him, for a moment, he allowed his hand to rest along the smooth curves of her waist."Carrick won't even consider the options of adoption or surrogacy.He is so vigilant regarding our privacy; he believes that it would just be an invitation to the outside world to trash our lives for the benefit of the highest bidder.So I have been thinking about what it would mean to have a third in our relationship…."

 

Camille could not let him finish, suddenly her anger flared out of control at the though that not only had Carrick set her up, but that Malcolm had beenculpable as well,"Well I guess Carrick has nothing on you when it comes to the self-serving department.So, Let me get this straight, not only were you purposely befriending me so that you soften me up to see if I may be interested in some three-way action, you were also going to sweeten the deal by turning me into the prostitute that you didn't know that I was?Then "presto" your coupe de grâce, I get to be your brood mare so that Carrick doesn't have to go through the messy process of obtaining a child through adoption or surrogacy, like a normal person?"

 

She stepped out of his arms and crossed her arms across her chest, as if she was suddenly cold, "Wow, you guys sure know how to show a girl a good time.You will forgive me if I prefer that my customers to keep me honest and leave their money on the bedside table, as the fuck me over."Camille began to briskly move around the room, her eyes almost blinded by her tears and picked up all of her belongings.

 

"Camille, no!" You've got it all wrong, that is not what I meant or what I intended."

 

"Malcolm, don't insult you or me.I forget that under all that charm and good looks lurks a henchman for one of the most affluent businessmen in the country, and you have the dubious distinction of also being his boy toy.I am not going to lie, I read up about your accomplishments in business in Black Enterprise Magazine and the Wall Street Journal, I know that you are an integral part of Caudwell's team in dismantling small to medium companies and swallowing them whole.God knows I can appreciate anyone maintaining job security anyway that they can, but I must say you have taken it to a new level of low." Camille assured him.

 

"Camille you have it all wrong." He called to her desperately.

 

"What exactly do I have wrong? She challenged him looking him directly in the eye, her eyes begging him to prove her wrong.You didn't dangle me like a carrot to see if Carrick would bite?"The look of pain on Malcolm's face said it all.

 

"I guess this won't surprise you then when I say, thanks, but no thanks."Camille looked into his eyes, hoping for a moment that that he would start laughing and telling her that this was all a horrible joke.Yes, this was all a joke, unfortunately it was on her.

 

Camille cast him one more glance, "Good-bye Mr. Malcolm Chambers." With that, Camille opened and closed the hand carved, quarter-sewn, oak door behind her.

 

Camille stood and rested a beat on the other side of the door, while she tried to catch her breath.The betrayal she felt from Malcolm's action felt like a virus that suddenly wracked her body.She had to leave this apartment.Maybe with some distance she could feel like a whole person again.

 

As she made her way to the apartment's front door, her hand was suddenly twisted from the knob. Almost instantly her eyes met a set that were glittering and swimming in what she would estimate in being at least three-quarters of a bottle of some liquid spirit.

 

"You were in there long enough.I am sure you used all you wiles to keep Malcolm from kicking you to the curb."Ah, whiskey was his poison this evening. she could use about three fingers, straight herself.

 

Camille jerked out of his grip and gave him a calculating smile.Slowly, she slithered closer to him and wound her body around his, despite his efforts to withdraw, Camille felt his arousal."Honey, I don't need wiles, I have about four feet of the real thing.I had them wrapped around his body while I fucked him good and hard.Baby, I was the best he ever had.I didn't just fuck him Bi, I fucked him Straight-I'm just that good."She licked her lips at the naked torture displayed on his face.She leaned in and put her soft cheek next to beginnings of his early morning stubble. "Poor Carrick, I guess I ruined him, for you, forever-so sad.She whispered into his ear as she ran her tongue lightly along its ridge.She felt the shiver that he couldn't repress and she smiled at him in triumph.

 

"I hope you enjoyed that, because that is as close to me that you will ever get."Camille looked at him, stood back and quickly exited the apartment.

As she made her way down the grandly appointed central hallway, to the elevator, she heard the crash of glass against the door.

Chapter 11

 

 

“Throwing the glass against the door was a little over the top, don’t you think? But who am I kidding, we passed, “over the top” about two hours ago.” The deep timbre of his lover’s voice resonated throughout the room. Carrick startled at the sound of Mal’s voice.

 

Carr didn’t know how long he had been standing there, staring at the results of his temper, but Malcolm’s two cents was not appreciated.  Hurricane Camille, a Category Five storm for sure, the impact of the devastation still to be determined, just blew through their condo and Mal had jokes.

 

Carrick was bone-tired and more than a little drunk. His mind flashed on the sound of his inner voice telling him his plan might not have been as smart as he thought a voice which he of course completely disregarded.  What he would not give for a do-over right now.  He could have told Malcolm to forget going into the condo and they could be at a restaurant finishing a meal, or at the penthouse having a marathon session of love-making.  There is nothing like being pleasantly exhausted before one has to get on a plane for a few hours; you are too tired to be conscious for the take-off, or the landing.  If only he could just simply stop the tape at the time they arrived at the front door and press rewind.  But generally he was old enough, realistic enough, and usually smart enough to know that you can’t outrun a shit storm, you just hunker down, wait for it to stop and then access the damage.

 

Mal continued in a bored tone, “I’m just saying, that’s about five hundred dollars in premium booze and crystal that you just took out on the door. Besides, it was a little melodramatic.” As Carrick continued to stare at the mess in front of him, the disembodied voice behind him continued.  “By the way, just in case you are wondering, you don’t wear melodrama well, I like you far better in custom tailored Armani – you know I love how the cut hugs your ass.”

 

Carrick turned incredulously toward the shadowed figure, leaning against the wall with his hands tucked into his suit pant’s pockets.  What. The. Fuck. Malcolm. This is not the time for your brand of humor.

 

 Malcolm’s whole demeanor said, “Trust me, I’m not laughing.”

Mal felt Carrick’s eyes upon him, yet he kept his eyes fixed on a spot on the ceiling.  Somehow a constellation of spheres were displaying themselves above him, Malcolm watched as they subtlety shifted turning a lighter and then darker shades of gray. All the time trying to figure out how he could manage this conversation with Carrick without it disintegrating into an all out yelling match.

 

Carrick felt like he was in a bad episode of the “Twilight Zone”.  Once Camille had left, he fully expected Malcolm to charge out of the bedroom intent on avenging his latest new cause.  But there Mall stood looking calm, cool and collected, but not meeting Carrick’s eyes.  Carrick felt in some ways like the five year old wayward child that he once was, in a time when he still cared about his parent’s ignorance of him, and he did all types of devilishness to be noticed; even when the result was punishment.  It was during those times, when his parents would acknowledge his existence that he would peer into their chagrined laced eyes and find the truth of how much he was a disappointment to them.

 

Somehow he felt like that little boy again willing the person, whom he loved, to strike him rather than look into eyes that held disillusionment and disdain.  But in the past, his blue-blood family would never deign to exhibit such a common emotion like anger, and would never consider feeling anything to the extent that it would result in physical contact with their child.

 

He knew he wasn’t five anymore and even his sluggish mind could grasp the fact that he wasn’t dealing with emotionally estranged parents, but his life’s partner, whom he knew and whom knew him better than perhaps few people in the world. One thing that Carr learned quickly about Mal was that he hated bullies.  He only had contempt for people who were mean for the sake of just expressing the emotion.  He was praying, in Mal’s eyes, that he had not strayed too far across that line.

 

Damn, if I’d just thought this through, for a second, rationally, I would have played this out so very differently.

 

Now, he had no doubt that once he had left the bedroom, Camille embraced her role as the victim against his Big Bad Wolf and royally screw him, or Mal.  And truth be told, that little scenario was wiggling around in his liquor logged brain as well.  Did she really fuck Mal?  Where they going at it while he was in the living room intently dedicated to drinking himself into another universe?  Did he just play high takes poker with one of the few relationships that he gave a damn about, and loose spectacularly?

 

A curious ball of sensation traveled along his spine.  The emotion was a disconcerting mix of anxiety, tension and uncertainty.  Carrick felt real, personal fear for perhaps the first time in his life.

 

The cold silken tone of his lover’s voice woke him from his inner thoughts. “What exactly did you hope to accomplish with this little setup tonight, or is the answer as obvious as it seems?” Malcolm was still leaning against the wall, but he had drew one of the legs up so that the flat bottoms of his shoes was resting against the wall and now his arm were crossed against his chest and he was giving eye contact like a sniper who had found his target.

 

For a moment, Carrick was distracted by the taunt stretch of fabric pulled against the contours of Mal’s muscles.  Malcolm at that moment looked better that any Calvin Kline ad at its best.   But he snapped out of it once he got a glimpse of Malcolm’s eyes pinning him like he was a specimen in a Petri dish.

“She was setting you up, I wanted to neutralize her-you needed to know the truth.”

 

           
            Malcolm laughed so harshly, the sound seemed to be pulled violently through his throat. “Neutralized huh, I guess I should drop to my knees and thank God the idea to put a hit out on her didn’t come to you first.

 

            For some inane reason Carrick felt the inexplicable urge to actually shuffle his feet.  Mal was using a technique that he usually used with his executives when they said something particularly stupid. Repeat their statement back to them so that they could benefit from the treat of hearing how ridiculous their inane utterance really was.

 

            “What has possessed you?  I’ve known you to be justifiably hard on people, when you need to.  You especially require those who work for you to perform at their highest level and you do not accept anything less, but what happened here, tonight, was beneath you.”

 

Was Mal’s voice infused with a hint of contempt?

 

            Upon hearing the phantom strain of judgment in Mal’s voice, the curious mix of alcohol and entitlement did little to flush out all of the stubbornness in Carrick.  His stupid streak had reanimated itself during Mal’s censure. “No Mal, actually this is exact what I do.  I protect those I care about unquestioningly, if there is a threat to them or their well being, I make sure that threat no longer exists.  Camille was a liar and a con artist at best. Her tactics were eventually going to hurt you.  I shut her down.”  Carrick stared directly at Malcolm, his golden eyes glittered coldly.

 

            “No.  I won’t accept that this obnoxious behavior is just you in protection mode.  I have never known you to maliciously go after anyone.  You hurt her, and then tried to break and humiliate her.  To top it all off, you made sure you had an audience.  That I was that audience.  You wanted me to participate in your kill.  Never mind that I am man that you rely on to help you navigate some of the largest divisions in your multi billion dollar corporation; you  apparently and inexplicably don’t have enough faith in me to chew gum and walk at the same time.”  Malcolm ground out as he shifted so and his feet were resting hip length apart, with his hands on his hips.  Somehow, to Carrick, Malcolm seemed a hair’s breath away-they were literally nose to nose.  Carr could literally feel the tiny puffs of air that flowed out of Mal’s mouth as he carefully articulated every word. At another time their position would have been erotic in its intensity. Now, it felt like a hostile standoff.

 

Carrick knew he had to back down. “That is not true Malcolm, you are probably the best person I know. I also know that you have a soft spot for everything that seems fragile. That package, decorated with tits and ass, which just left this condo may have read “FRAGILE”, but it just goes to show you that labels don’t mean shit anymore.”

 

            He knew his emotions were all over the place and the liquor was not helping matters, but his mind kept running back to what Camille had said before she left.  Abruptly, he blurted out, “Did you just have sex with her?”

 

            “What?”  Malcolm was so surprised by the question he almost fell back into the wall.

 

            “Did. You. Fuck. Her?”  Carrick ground out, trying to figure out whether Mal’s look of shock was authentic, or just an effort to deflect the question and buy time.

 

            “Okay, first of all you are cut off from the juice for the night.  Why in hell would you think I would sleep with Camille when you are about twenty feet away?”

 

            “She said it.”  Carrick replied distractedly becuase Malcolm’s answer did not soothe, if anything it brought up more questions.  “So you would sleep with her if I wasn’t around?”

 

            “Camille may have said it, but it wasn’t the truth.  She was probably giving you back a little of what you tried to dish out this evening.  If anyone knows what I look like after I have had sex it should be you.  Do I have the postcoital glow about me?”

 

            Carr looked directly in Mal’s eyes and what he saw immediately made him stand down.  Malcolm’s pupils definitely had a glow, but it was the sheen of someone who was working hard to control his anger, yet something else was also in their depths.

 

“No you didn’t fuck her.” Carrick turned away from Malcolm and walked to the couch to sit heavily.  “But you wanted to.”

 

Chapter 12

 

 

            For the past hour, as they flew down the eastern seaboard to reach their Floridian destination, Malcolm closely watched Carrick as his partner reviewed business files.  He noted how Carr’s forehead pinched as he read something that he didn’t like.   Then he watched as Carr shifted his body.  The genius design of the white polo shirt that Carr wore, allowed Malcolm a perfect and surprisingly arousing view of Carrick’s broad chest.  Unfortunately, for the first time in their relationship he and Carr had barely traded monosyllables in the eight hours since Carr had made the pronouncement that Mal had wanted to make love to Camille.

 For a while, Mal’s silence was due to the guilt he felt from the truth of Carr statement. Now, all bets were off.   For the last couple of hours he had realized that Carr and Camille had maneuvered him with the skill of synchronized swimmers.  Where one had left off, the other had taken up banner of tying him up in emotional knots.  Here is the real kicker-he hadn’t actually done a damn thing.  He hadn’t deliberately misled anyone about who he was, what he did, or how he lived his life.  He certainly hadn’t intentionally placed anybody in a position of certain exposure in a way that would exact the optimal degree of embarrassment and pain.  Yet, he was the one left feeling somehow responsible and guilty, while the other parties to this senseless scene of drama got to go off leaving nothing but pissy attitudes in their wake.

Malcolm made a little “harrumph” sound at the thought.  Forcing him to stop meditating on how sexy he found the broad swell of Carrick’s pectoral muscles. Carrick’s been laying it down hard in the gym. He absently thought to himself as he crossed his legs.

Damn! Horny was not the appropriate response to how annoyed he actually was.  Mal get a grip! Mal shifted his body altogether, so that he  Carrick would no longer be in his direct line of sight, and also to ease some of the strain that was threatening to rise between his thighs.

This ridiculous brand of insanity that he was currently engaged in was all due to the commitment he had made to himself that he wanted to make sure Carrick did not look back over his life, some time in the future, filled with regret that he had missed any opportunities.  Hell, he didn’t want to fall into the pit of self-reproach either.

“Mal, what are you mumbling about, what “missed opportunities”.”  Carrick asked with a sigh, as he pushed the documents off of his lap, finally doing away with any pretense that he was working.

Mal wasn’t aware that he had spoken aloud, but he was more than ready to get this clear with Carrick. “You and ‘missed opportunities,’ Carr.  You want to have a family and I don’t want you to regret not having one because of some misbegotten notion that being with me means that you have to sacrifice your other dreams.” Malcolm leaned over the space separating himself and Carr, bracing his long, strong fingers against his knees, and then he looked intently into his lover’s eyes.  For a moment his jaw tensed in reaction to Carr’s annoyance. “I think Camille had it right on the money, you are acting like a silly ass.”

Something in Carrick deflated as he watched Malcolm’s frame tense, it was finally time for some truths. “When was the last time you talked to your folks?” he asked in voice barely above a whisper.

Malcolm blinked, startled by Carrick’s question. “Carr, for the last time what happened between me and my family had nothing to do directly with you.  You just happened to be the person I was with when everything hit the fan.” Mal wanted to reach out to Carr so badly, but he knew from experience that if he touched Carr, their communication would turn into something else and this seemed to be a conversation that they had delayed for far too long.

Carr absently brushed a  phantom piece of lint on his cloth covered thigh, all the while carefully keeping his eyes from meeting Malcolm’s, “You may say that, but the fact remains that in our five years together they have treated you like you were dead- zero communication. They have completely frozen you out.”

“Carr, I was in a no win situation. For years my family treated my being gay as if it was some phase I was going through.  The trade was that I would keep getting academic and professional accolades, pretend I didn’t have a sex life, or at least pretend that that part of my life included women and I would be accepted as part of the fold. Once I met you, that farce no longer was an acceptable way to lead my life.  I will never regret that choice.” Malcolm assured as he bent further in his seat so that he could catch Carr’s wandering eyes.

For a moment, Carr looked every one of his thirty-eight years, gazing down at the commercial waved pattern on the rug of his private jet, he spoke softly, “I can never make up for the huge sacrifice that you made to be with me, I swore to myself that I would not take any more from you and that includes locking you down with children you don’t want.”, he added uncomfortable with acknowledging his vulnerability.

“What makes you think I don’t want to raise a family with you?” Malcolm could no longer help himself as he reached out his hand and closed it over Carrick's, ceasing his relentless punishing of the fabric of his pants. “I see the kind and loving man you are with Bella and that just makes me want to raise children with you even more.  I want that for our child.”

“My God Mal, you are only thirty. “  Carrick looked at his lover like he didn’t know what he was talking about.   “You have so much going for you-so much to look forward to.  Asking that of you would be so unfair.” Carrick finally threaded his fingers through Mal’s.

“Carrick, did I miss something.  I thought that this was it for both of us. I never for a moment thought that age stood between us and what we have.  Do you think that at some point, I am just going to get up and leave?”

“Mal when we got together everything was new to you.  You had really just begun your career, moved into your first real apartment, and you hadn’t really come out to your parents.  In a flash, you were in a serious relationship with a man eight years older than you, who hadn’t had to answer to anyone about his choices in years and who had been in a lot of casual relationships.”

“Thanks Carr, it has been well documented that you were the equivalent of a male whore before you met me, so you didn’t have to give me the recap.” Mal added with a smirk. “In fact, now that I think about it, you shouldn’t have climbed up on your high horse about Camille-your house is definitely made out of glass.”

If Carrick had being sheepish in his repertoire, he gave it a good shot then. “We know this.  But that woman is a predator.  I saw that ‘butter won’t melt in my mouth’ act that she was feeding you, and I knew there was something more to her.  My methods may have been unorthodox, but I can’t say I am sorry for exposing her.”

Malcolm shook his head, “We may never agree on Camille.  Even with everything that happened last night, I am convinced that she is a really good person.  She did not owe me anything and she is allowed to keep some secrets to herself.  I am her friend, not her boyfriend.”

Carrick drew up sharply, so quickly that Malcolm almost landed on the floor.  He continued to look at Mal curiously. “So then why were you trying to shove her down my throat?”

Asking her to dinner is hardly shoving her down your throat Carr.” Mal reminded.

“Okay, who is being silly ass now, or are you just playing dumb?   Carr pinned Mal with a look of disbelief. “From the moment I saw you two together I knew you wanted more. Why do you think I acted so quickly, so decisively Mal.? I am too old to be playing little lover’s games now.  What is it that you want?”

Hardly allowing Carrick to finish his question Malcolm answered. “You, I will always want you. But along with the baby making theme I thought that maybe it would be more palatable for you to have a mother for our child that we had a relationship with.  You know like a Third.” Malcolm’s insides constricted in preparation of Carr’s response.  He predicted Carr’s reaction would be loud and uninhibited.

Carrick was so stunned he was almost inarticulate, “What?”

“We could have another in our relationship, who we love and we can share a family with.  This way we can do away with the random three-ways and concentrate on our family.”

About thirty questions popped into Carrick mind at once, but he settled on one.   “Camille?”

“Honestly, I think Camille is a great woman.  I truly believed that you would really like her and hopefully grow to love her.  It never occurred to me that you would be two opposing forces, willing to tear anything in your path apart in an effort to get away from each other.”

Carrick didn’t seem to register what Malcolm was telling him.  In an effort to absorb the information, he dropped Mal’s hands and started to rub his forehead. “CAMILLE?”

Malcolm again moved to clasp his hands and started to speak a little faster than usual.  “She is smart, funny, and beautiful.  To be honest I don’t think I thought of her in our lives permanently. It didn’t really occur to me until we had our dinner.  Sitting around the table with you and her felt so right.”

“Sitting across the table from your sane and generally reasonable lover and ‘the Three Faces of Eve’ felt right to you?” Carrick questioned with an exasperated half laugh.

“She struck me as a person who was a bit displaced, who didn’t have a lot to count on.  It took me weeks before I could get her to utter something to me that did not directly have to do with the play.  I think it was another month before I heard her first joke. What you say the day you came to the school was her finally with all of her defenses down.  That is until you and she went for your little dance; while I had to get that phone call, for a brief second that night, I was able to envision what it could be like for us to be her friends or possibly more.”

“Camille.”  Carrick repeated for the third time with a glint of laughter in his eyes.  “I am sure if I was even willing to consider this insane idea of yours “skank” and “prostitute” would not be two of my top ten attributes for the mother of our future children.”

“Carrick that is not nice and it surely isn’t fair.  Aren’t you really mad at her because she did not fall apart when you tried to break her or because you were undeniably attracted to her while you were doing it?”

Carrick’s eyes narrowed at Malcolm’s words. “Have you been so uncomfortable with our life together that you are so willing to invite anyone off the street into our bed?

Suddenly Malcolm became so annoyed that he could not catch the words before they left his mouth, “No, I guess I should leave those invitations to you.” He word slid out as cold as ice.

Carrick head jerked as if he had been slapped.  Silently, he leaned back, pulling his hands out of Malcolm’s. “Damn.” Quickly he unsnapped the safety belt around his waist and stood, to place some distance between him and his lover. Somehow he found himself in front of the flat screen television blindly watching the figures.

Malcolm also sat back and watched Carrick stalk the length of the plane till he stood in front to the entertainment center.  He blew a harsh breath out of his mouth.  He couldn’t believe he said that and he certainly didn’t mean it.  It was time to make amends once and for all.

Carrick listen to the gibberish that was spewing from the television. For the life of him he could not focus, then suddenly he felt arms insinuating themselves between his arms and waist. 

Mal’s deep baritone caressed his ear. “I am so sorry.  Carrick, I love you and I want what is best for us. If that is not Camille, so be it.  Let’s concentrate on what we do agree upon.  We want to have a family and now we just have to figure out how we get one. We can leave this Camille thing behind us.”

Carrick turned in Mal’s arms, letting his hands reach up to cradle the side of Mal’s heartbreakingly handsome face.  “Mal, being with you makes everything else make sense.  All the other stuff is bullshit.  You know that right?”

“Baby, I know.  Let’s just relax.  We will be in sunny Florida in a minute, let’s just get business done and enjoy ourselves.” Mal covered Carr’s hands with his own and leaned in to touch Carr’s lips.  His body willing Carr’s to come back from whatever ugly place they were heading a moment ago. 

Their light kisses quickly turned into a terrible yearning and hunger.  Malcolm was in the midst of removing Carrick’s polo shirt, the one that had been driving him crazy all morning, when he heard the discreet cough.

For a moment they each rested their head on the other’s shoulder so that they could get their ragged breathing under control.

“Yes, what is it Sam.” Carrick called out to the employee who stood somewhere outside their line of sight. 

“Mr. Caudwell, the pilot wanted me to inform you that we will be making our decent in a few moments. He has also asked that you and Mr. Chambers make your preparations and take your seat.”

“Thanks Sam, give us a minute.” Carrick replied.

Carrick looked deep into Mal’s eyes. “I promise you that we will continue this later.”

Mal’s gave his trademark smirk as he moved back to his seat.  He watched Carrick prepare for landing across from him, while Mal communicated his unsatiated desire with one look. “Always lover.”


************************************************************

 The festivities of the evening were already reaching an early peak by the time the two men arrived at the foyer of the mansion.  If one did not know better, one would have sworn that the handsome duo had walked a few steps into the high balcony entrance and posed.  One of the men was in a classic fitted tuxedo that hugged his long lean body and the other in a precisely fitted custom designer tux that tamed every curve of his muscular body. It seemed like every woman present took a moment to breathe and admire.  Their combined look and air of careless entitlement would have put 007 to shame. One strategically coiffed woman, upon seeing them, told her evening’s companion that James Bond probably looked to them regarding how to put on the air of casual elegance.  And then everyone was buzzing with the fact that Carrick Caudwell had deigned to be seen at South Beach party.

            Carrick knew he was causing a stir and he offered Mal a sly smile as they continued down the step to join the party. While enjoying the feel of everyone’s eyes on them, Carrick cast a look toward his surroundings. The mansion positively reeked of nouveaux riche.  Every corner of the space leaked new money and very little taste.  At the bottom of the steps Malcolm and Carrick were meet by a harried individual, who was clearly out of his element greeting guests.

            A little man with perspiration dotting his forehead rushed to greet them.  “Mr. Caudwell and Mr. Chambers I presume.  It is such an honor that you have decided to join us on our little weekend excursion.”  The petite man almost panted with the effort he putting forth to suck up.

            “Mr. Michele?”  Carr inquired.

            “Oh no sir, I am his secretary.  He should be out in a few moments.  Unfortunately, Mr. Michele had a few loose ends regarding business that he had to tie up and he will be out soon. But please let me get the attention of his hostess for this weekend so that she can attend to your need.  Would you like a drink?”

            Before either man could respond, the diminutive man was already across the floor running to a woman who had just entered the room from a side door.

            Immediately, Carrick had a bad feeling about the woman.  It had nothing to do with how she looked.  She was facing a way from them, but in a room full of posh imposters everything about the woman spoke of simple elegance.  She wore a startling red sheath dress and something about the cut made it unnecessary for her to indulge in any other adornment.  And then she moved.  Carrick was so entranced by the sway of her body and the cadence of her  legs playing peek-a-boo with the wisps of fabric dancing around them, that he hadn’t had the time to look up before the walnut tinted diva was standing in front of him.

            “Asshole” She greeted him and passed him one of the champagne flutes that she was holding.

            “Chlamydia” He acknowledged her, as he took the offered flute, pressed it to his lips and finished the contents in one swallow.

            Camille did a double take, as her mind caught up with her ears and the new name he bestowed upon her.  If Carrick wasn’t mistaken, he believed he caught traces of an amused upturn of her lips, before she leaned in toward his ear.

            “Be careful, I spit in it.”  She warned.

            Carrick sighed as he looked in to her eyes, ”I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Finally Camille was nearing the end of the out of control roller coaster ride that had become her life.  For the last few months, for a few hours everyday, she could count on working with the children at Frazier High as a respite from the stress and the fear of the ever watchful eyes around her.  But she should have known that any place of peace was just the calm before the storm.  At least she could feel reasonably confident that her association with Lucien would end this weekend.  That was the only thing that allowed her the ability to get on the Red Eye and jet to this Circus of the Simple and the Indolent.  

 Actually, it was lucky that she was able to get there early and try to curtail some of the more creative aspects of the party’s festive design.  After what felt like the longest ride from the airport, she barely registered the tropical atmosphere as her thoughts meandered among the events of the night before. She was pretty much on autopilot when she left the car and climbed the steps of the ocean side mansion. What she saw when she entered the structure almost took her breath away-and not in a good way. 

 The house seemed to have been through a Rococo war, imitation Rococo at that.   Unfortunately, the decor seemed to have lost every battle along the way. It seemed like some designer tried to take a good shot at class and elegance. Too bad he or she was missing three important qualities in interior design; taste, skill and a basic understanding of a color palate.  Camille immediately set to work trying to wrestle a few of the most obviously ugly pieces from the areas that Lucien was entertaining in, but after an hour the room still looked a little too cheap chic.

 A billion dollar budget with bordello taste, Camille thought to herself as she looked around the room and shook her head in defeat. Her efforts were futile, what the house needed couldn’t be provided in the hours before the party.

 Where the hell is everybody? She could not help but think.  Since she had been there she hadn’t seen but a handful of the help, those she enlisted to help her remove and/or reposition furniture.

 “Camille, you have finally arrived,” a voice called out to her from the side of the room framed by glass.

 Speaking of the devil, apparently when you called up evil it answers on cue. Camille gave a slight shudder at the thought.  I will look for his Ouija board, the devil’s portal to the physical world, and destroy it later.  Camille smirked to herself as she straightened to greet her employer for the weekend. 

 Lucien Michele was an outwardly handsome man. He had all the classic European looks, dark, tall, to some-delicious. But that all went to show that a little drywall can hide all manner of ugly.  Along with many of his legitimate endeavors, only a precious few knew that he was one of the principals of the largest growing European crime cartels and the business was seeking to expand.

 Camille took a moment to school her features. Unlike most men of her acquaintance, Lucien Michel scared her and his little mini sidekick made her stomach turn. Yes, Lucien’s right hand man had a real name, but for the life of her she could never remember what it was. Lucien called him Benny, but in her mind she called him “Little Man” because he is a man, and he is peculiarly little.  No, he wasn’t Little Person, little.  More like, everything about him seemed in deference to a larger, stronger personality. He was Lucian’s supplicant.  He bowed to the throne of Lucien Michel. He also had the disconcerting trait of his eyes being everywhere at once.  She had often caught him with his eyes on her.  Something about him made her feel unclean. He was a little, weasel man and that made him equally as dangerous as the man he served.

 “Yes Lucien, I arrived about an hour ago.  I just saw a few things to straighten up around here.”

 “Leave it, that's why I hired for a decorator.”  He added with his smooth French accent.

 Well, you need to ask for your money back. But instead of adding that tidbit she said instead, “It looks like everything is ready. Do you require anything else of me before the party?”

 “Ah, ma Cherie, you ask a loaded question.”  Lucien murmured as he stepped closer to Camille leaning in to whisper in her ear.  “Too bad you and I do not share the same tastes in the bedroom.”

 His very proximity to her and the thoughts his voice brought to her mind made hives break out along Camille’s arms.  Camille had a number of clients who enjoyed a certain amount of rigor in the bedroom, for it they paid extra.  But Lucien was one of the few who married passion with pain-the kind that was evidenced by a show of blood. Luckily, in the sex trade there was a sex worker for all type of tastes, his tastes was the type of work that Camille usually contracted out.  Lucien and she had a clear understanding for his U.S. based events; her job was to provide a little elegance to what was looking like a pig’s ear of an evening.  Any additional, intimate responsibilities on his behalf, she had managed to avoid and she was determined to continue this feat.

 Camille endeavored to swallow the bile that was slowly moving up her throat. “Lucien, though I am sure you have so much you could show me, I have brought a treat for you.  She could not take the same flight, but I am sure that once you are ready to retire to your room, before the festivities, she will be there and would be so willing to help you… relax.  Camille added a knowing, seductive smile to her offer.

 Lucien answered her with a predatory grin, “Camille that is why I don’t mind paying you so much for your services.  You think of everything.  But one day you will name your price and I will have the intense joy of showing you how to pleasure me.”  Lucien gazed at her with his Preying Mantis eyes, while capturing her hand and bringing it up to his lips.

 That was it.  There was no holding back the urge to vomit.  She had to get out of there and she had to get out of there quick.  She didn’t want to offer any discounts, or worse, because she projectile vomited all over her employer.

 While still fighting the knot of repulsion making its way up her throat, she managed to croak out.  “I want to make sure that I am perfect for your evening.  Is my room upstairs?”

 “Of course, I have a few things to check on and then I will go to my room to enjoy my treat.  Benny will show you to your room.”  With that, Lucien dismissed her and walked away.

 Oh sweet Jesus-Benny.  Camille cast a look at the cretin in question.  As always, Benny was looking at her like she was nude, had a price tag above her head and he was simply counting his pennies to see if he had enough to make his purchase.  She knew what Lucien craved in the bedroom and she didn’t want to even consider how “Little Man’s” taste ran.  Somehow she knew it would shock even her world weary soul.
 
 “Benny, I know you probably have a million things to do. Just point me in the right direction and I can find my own way to the room.”  She sighed with a poor imitation of a smile.

 Benny eyes narrowed in response, “I do exactly as Mr. Michele asks.  I will show you to your room.”  He gestured, indicating that he wished Camille to walk in front of him.

 Camille paused for a moment and walked ahead, all the while knowing that Benny was silently inventorying every curve and crevice of her body.  Silently she recited to herself all the reasons that she was working this particular weekend and for this particular employer.  At the stairs she abruptly turned and caught Benny with his eyes almost attached to her ass.  Silently, she waited until his eyes leisurely made their way up her body to meet her own. She made clear through her countenance that he either would have to take a picture, or pay like everyone else. There were no free peeks here.

 With a greedy little grin, Benny walked uncomfortably close, passing her on the step and continued up the steep slope to show her to her room.  Camille knew she had won that little test of wills, but she was also equally aware that she didn’t want to push it.  Somehow her intuition told her that Lucien held the reins on that sick little puppy, and it wouldn’t be to her advantage to test how tight those reins really were. As Camille climbed the stairs to her room, and hoped that some fairy god mother would spread a little fairy dust on the catastrophe that was sure to be her evening. 

 A couple of hours into the evening, Camille were pretty clear that her fairy godmother was on a permanent lunch break. Lucien seemed displeased by something, and he was constantly looking at the entrance like he was waiting for someone to arrive. A jumpy Lucien was an unnerved and unbalanced one.  Call her silly, but Camille liked her “crazy” quantifiable and right now Lucien, and his “Little Man” by extension, were strung a little too tight to be predictable. Camille’s game plan was to keep her distance from them while doing her duty in making sure that the guests had all their needs met and attended to. Hopefully, when all hell broke loose, that would keep her out of the line of fire.

 Later in the evening, by the time Lucien’s little man tapped her on the shoulder she was truly desperate for the evening to end.  Yet as she turned at his direction to greet some new arrivals, she almost swallowed her tongue.  She swore to herself silently, if she didn’t have bad luck she wouldn’t have any luck at all.  Before her stood two of the most beautiful men she had hoped to never see again.  To allow these two specimens of manliness to wear tuxedos and set them loose on the world seemed like a gross infractions of one of the Seven Deadly Sins, Lust.  Correction: maybe two, because it had to be Gluttony that made her want to just look, and look, and look… Too bad they were both on her shit list.

 The next few moments passed in a heartbeat.  She knew she picked up two glasses of champagne, she remembered passing Carrick a glass.  Did he really call her a venereal disease?  Yea, that was kind of funny and appealed to her dark humorous side.  Touché.  She really hadn’t spit in the Champagne, yet it was fun telling him that she did.  For a moment she lost herself-playing toe to toe with Carrick was at least stimulating.

 Then that icy feeling crept up her spine.  She trusted that feeling.  It was that feeling that helped her know which potential clients could be trouble and which ones were relatively safe.  That feeling was her self preservation meter, too bad it didn’t do her any damn good in this situation. The choice of whether to take Lucien as a client was taken out of her hands a long time ago.  Now all she could do was follow through and hope she could make it through this mine field with as few casualties as possible.  Before she could turn her attention to Malcolm, she felt Lucien press himself against her side, while sliding his arm around her waist.  The effect was like having Hannibal Lector looking at her with a sexual interest; the feeling again triggered her gag reflex while also terrifying her. But she was a professional and damn if she wasn’t going to play her role to the “T”.

 “Ah Lucien, I was greeting our new guests.  I am sure you know Mr. Carrick Caudwell and Mr. Malcolm Chambers.”  Camille handed Malcolm the other flute of champagne, which she was still holding.  As she leaned close to Mal, she looked at them both with eyes that begged the both, especially Carrick, for once, to play along and shut his mouth.

 Carrick was placed in an interesting position.  The diabolical part of him wanted to do exactly the opposite of Camille’s silent request. After all, she has been pushing his buttons from the moment he set eyes on her.  This could be some very deserving pay back, but then he felt Mal subtly step closer to him.  He immediately knew what that meant.  Mal had also caught the look in her eyes and he knew what Carrick was contemplating.  Carrick did not have to turn around to hear Mal’s message loud and clear, if he ever wanted any more than a self-administered, five finger massage action for the foreseeable future, he better show some restraint and get with the program.
Although, it seemed, he didn’t have to do anything to add to the drama of the moment.

 “Actually, I don’t think we have been formally introduced. Camille, thank you for doing the honors, but I can take over now, I believe Mr. and Mrs. Wesley were asking after you.”  Neither Mal nor Carr missed that as Michele talked he seemed to tighten his grip on Camille’s arm so that she took a few steps away from them to avoid his increased pressure.

 God knows he had no love lost regarding Camille and every time he was in her presence he seemed to always lose his notoriously iron clad control.  But he generally did not have anything but contempt for any man who put his hands on a woman.  He knew Camille tried to hide it, but he saw her wince and by the way he felt Malcolm tense he knew that his lover saw it too.  What was more curious to him was Camille’s reaction to the Lucien’s grip on her.

 Carr was waiting for her to give Michel hell.  But maybe this is the new and improved Camille, or the one that is on the job, because it sort of shocked him that she didn’t tell Michel to kiss her ass and then force him to watch it as she walked away, all the while shaking her “money maker” in abject defiance.  That Camille, if he was forced to admit it, he admired, but this one he had never met before.  Somewhere lurking in her eyes was feigned confidence with a heavy edge of fear. Carrick cut his eyes to Malcolm.  He knew that Malcolm saw it too, and when Carr looked down he saw that Mal had his hands tightly clenched into fists.

 It was then that Carr realized that their host was still talking to them, totally oblivious that there was about to be an international incident in the middle of his party.

 “Camille, go along and let the others know that Mr. Caudwell and Mr. Chambers have arrived.  Gentlemen, I am sure you wouldn’t mind getting some business out of the way first, before we enjoy the weekend- I think we will be much more comfortable in the library.”  Their host offered both men an ingratiating grin.

 Camille also saw Mal’s reaction to Lucien’s rough handling of her and knew she had to diffuse the situation quickly.  Funny enough, she also saw a flash of something in Carrick’s eyes, something….protective? The stress of the evening must have been getting to her, because when she next glanced in his direction she could see his smart ass, privileged, veneer was firmly in place.  Back to damage control.

 Casually, crossing her arms across her chest, while surreptitiously rubbing the area that Lucien has bruised, “I will see to the Wesley’s’ and make sure your other associates meet you in the library.”  Camille added with seductive smile aimed directly at the Lucien, “I will also be sure that a bottle of that special port you like is sent to the room, I am sure you would like to share it.”

 “Lucien barely spared her a glance as he began to walk his guests down the hall toward the side of the house, “Sure, please do so quickly,” dismissing Camille with every step.

 Malcolm and Carrick took a moment to look at her, as if to await her direction regarding the evening’s curious direction.  Camille had begun to walk toward the other guests and spared a glance over her shoulder and realized that they were still looking at her.  She turned and made a small waving motion, in effect trying to persuade them to follow their host. Slowly both men turned with puzzled frowns on their faces as they followed in Lucien’s wake. 

 As they walked away, Camille could hear Carrick offering his apologies that they were so late, they had some issues to attend to with one of their overseas affiliates and their lateness could not be helped.  All she could remember thinking, as she watched them stride away with their host was, Why are they here, and how can I make them leave?

 Suddenly a waiter came out of nowhere and jostled her out of her reverie. For a split second they exchanged an intense gaze.  Then Camille remembered she had a job to do. It was time to earn her keep.  Unfortunately, she could not spare any more moments thinking about Carrick and Malcolm.  They had no idea the size of the crap pile they had just stepped into; but when in Hell, it’s every man, or woman, for themselves.

 Camille moved on to her duties-keeping the natives happy.

 

Finally, Mal had managed to pull himself from the conversation between Lucien and Carrick; very little of the discussion was directed toward him anyway.  Little did the Lucien know, but his physical handling of Camille made him a total “write off” in Malcolm’s book.  If Malcolm had any say about it, Caudwell Inc. will not be entering into any relationships, business or otherwise, with Lucien Michele and his merry band of men.  Still, it was clear that their host only had eyes for the CEO for Caudwell Industries.   There was an added level of amusement in watching the Frenchman try to pitch his importance to Carrick; Malcolm could see Carrick’s mental tape play through his eyes, “GETMEOUTTTAHERE, GETMEOUTTAHERE, GETMEOUTTAHERE.”

It was also slightly creepy, the vibe in the room.  Michel had introduced the additional occupants in the room as business partners in some of his various business interests.  Most importantly, the president of the cosmetics company that Caudwell was interested in acquiring was among the men present.  Still, atmosphere of the room didn’t seem so much as, “lets get the know the players” and see if they are interested in selling a failing division of their company, but more like they were feeling Carrick out for some else entirely different.  Normally, Malcolm would try to pry Carrick from the clueless man’s grasp, but he had bigger fish to fry.  Camille was out there and he needed to find her.  Carrick was a big boy-he could do his own dirty work. Mal couldn’t help but to send Carrick a grin as he made his excuses and closed the door on Carrick panicked eyes and their host’s pontifications.  As he walked away from the closed door, Malcolm could not help himself but chuckle aloud.

 It wasn’t so hard finding Camille.  There was something really weird about this whole setup.  He found a waiter, and he recognized him as the one who had abruptly bumped into Camille as she was walking away earlier, when Carrick and he were about to enter the room with Michele.  The man had to know who he was talking about when he inquired after Camille, but it seemed like the man was going to play like he didn’t know who Malcolm was talking about.  Then something changed, almost abruptly the waiter directed Malcolm to the terrace.

 Malcolm didn’t waste a second; the waiter had barely finished directing Mal to the -doors before Mal began to move toward them, easily sidestepping all the other guests gathering around him trying to initiate conversations.  Finally, he was able to slip out the door into the balmy evening.  He had moved far along the railing before he saw her.  She was tucked into a corner, leaning over the railing enjoying the breeze that was flowing from the water.

 Mal soaked in the moment of watching her while she was unaware.  He realized that there was a color that she associated to herself when she was working; some tone of red.  This evening her dress seemed righteously opulent in a deep sheer burgundy.  Again, she set herself apart.  While the other women attending the party draped themselves in bright electric colors, or subdued pastels, Camille distinctively set herself apart with her deep red dress that fit snugly to her body, from the deep swell of her breasts to the inviting bowl of her hips. The dress was an instrument of indecent perversity, it seemed to be made of sheer layers giving him the feeling that if he concentrated carefully he could easily see through all its gossamer filaments to the nude body beneath.  It was clear, even from the distance where he stood, that the dress brokered no deals for clever undergarments to camouflage the dress’s barely there construction.  No, this perfect dress required the perfect form; like Cinderella and her glass slipper- imposters or imitators would suffer a fool’s reward if they dared tried to step into perfection’s place.  It awed Malcolm that every time her saw her, she seemed to grow more….stunning.  Mal could no long keep himself at a distance; his body compelled him to move closer.

 As he drew nearer, she didn’t look up as she spoke quietly, “Malcolm, what are you both doing here.  I hope you didn’t follow me.” 

 Malcolm grinned to himself as he drew up to her side and watched the sea with her, “Camille, it good to know that Carrick has not cornered the market on self-importance.  No, we are not here because of you-this is business.  It was a shock to see you, but I am glad you are here.”

 She did not know if she believed him, so she sighed as she turned fully so that she could gaze into Mal’s eyes.  In a heartbeat, all of her resentment and anger dissipated, she actually felt a little foolish as she reminded herself of her behavior from the night before.  It was clear, it should have always been apparent, those eyes belonged to her friend.  The one who had learned, what some would consider some ugly things and could still look at her like that, with warmth and maybe something more.  She had to warn him.

 “Mal, don’t stay and don’t do business with Lucien.  All I can say is that you would be doing yourself a favor by getting onto your boat and traveling to a more hospitable place, like Afghanistan.

 Mal stepped even closer to Camille, some scent, sweet and seductive wafted off of her body.  Still, he made himself concentrate on her eyes.  “Well first of all, Afghanistan is land locked, so it would be pretty hard to sail to.” Mal winked at her as he offered his little geography lesson. “And if this weekend is going to be so bad or these people so dangerous, why are you here? Why are you with him?” Mal stepped closer to her.  She looked entrancing; it reminded him of the night before where the moon played across her hair and face.  Hopefully he would get the opportunity to right what went so wrong only twenty-four hours before.

 Camille gave him a cute little smirk, “Ok smarty pants, you may know your geography, but I can tell you this-run, do not walk away from this house and forget ever being here.”

 Mal’s response was immediate, “Come with us.”

 Camille gave a small secret smile and turned back to her view of the water, “I am a paid employee.  I may be nontraditional, but I have made a commitment nonetheless.  I cannot leave.”

 “I will pay you more than triple than what Michele is paying you.  Just grab my hand and let’s turn around and leave.”

 Mal couldn’t begin to understand how beguiling his offer was.  It had been a long time since a man, or anyone, had offered her security, a chance to let down her guard.  Camille turned and catalogued all the special little idiosyncrasies that made up Mr. Malcolm Chambers.  His skin was so smooth and unblemished it seemed as edible as the finest, most decadent, dark chocolate.  His brown eyes were beacons to anyone who was hurting, scared, and vulnerable.  Here was a man who would do his best to understand and protect.  Camille wanted so much to lay her burdens down or at least let someone help her shoulder the weight. But that was not her way.  She learned a long time ago the only person she could completely count on was herself-this was not a time to make any drastic changes to how she navigated her life.  Oh, but in another time, in another life - she would have loved to have the opportunity to belong in those arms.
Suddenly, she made a decision that she did not pause to reconsider.

 Camille turned to Malcolm, again looking deep into his eyes.  She let all of her shields go down.  She opened the locks to all the secrets she had hidden and silently allowed Malcolm to gaze in their depths and release the mystery of the real her.  Slowly, all the while lightly brushing her fingertips across the high ridge of his jaw, she drew him to her. Camille allowed her body to rise to the tips of her toes so that she could have a small taste of the man before her.  She didn’t want to ask for much, she knew he belonged to another, but something in her soul knew that if she just had a trifle of what this man had to offer she could keep the memory of the sample for the rest of her life.  Maybe it would make breathing, living easier.

 Continuing eye contact until it could not be maintained any longer, Camille touched his lips with the briefest hint of her own.  For a second the sensation forced her eyes to close while she committed the texture, the feeling, and emotion to memory.  Then she opened her eyes again to meet his and saw Mal’s hunger.  She could not contain herself. Again, Camille leaned in to touch her lips to his and this time she allowed her tongue to leisurely slide itself along the seam of his lips.  It was the most erotic thing she had ever felt.  For all her experience and all of their kiss’s chasteness, she had never felt her body vibrate to a tune such as what was playing now.  Somehow her hands had fallen in subjugation to the greater desire of her lips and for an untold sweet, sexy moment the only part of her that was touching him was their lips.

 Something was unlocked in Mal.  He recongnized that all her defenses were down and she was offering him something, maybe something that she had never offered any other before.  Her lips on his was more that he could have hoped for, or never dared act upon, for the thought that she would pull away from him,  or that their physical connection could be extinguished was unbearable. Without due consideration, quickly, he took over control of the kiss.  Malcolm could only see a stream of steamy pictures playing through his mind; Camille with her mouth between his legs, him between her legs-leisurely lapping at the effusive stream of her want, and him looking into her eyes the first time he eased himself into the molten kiss of her body.  At first he was stunned to stillness when she placed her first feather light kiss to his lips.  Evidently the paralyzing effects of her lips were so strong that he was unable to move, breathe, think, as she placed the second one.  The experience of touching her was so very different than Carrick.  It should have been so very obvious but in every way that Carr was solid and strong, Camille was pliant and delicate. She was just as intoxicating as Carr, but in such a different way.
 
 Oh Fuck, Carr!  Mal winced at the thought.

 With what was left of his good sense, Malcolm silently sent up a prayer that Carr would be able to forgive him for this moment.  Nothing in him was helping him generate enough strength to push away from this woman.  In fact, he hands were wandering up her body to cup the smooth curve of her ass, so that he could pull her closer to him, closer to his heat, hopefully to cool off one of the more tender areas of his insistent body.  Malcolm was instantly beyond all thoughts of cheating and consequences.  His rational brain sat helpless as his body and libido issued orders that held it hostage.

Camille had not pegged him for a dominant, but he took her in his arms and pried loose any remaining barrier holding her back from him.  He delved deep between her lips, coaxing a moan that drew her to hold on to him. Camille felt a strong slender hand cup her rear and guide her body to push even closer against him, her leg drew itself up against his body, finally wrapping itself around his waist, as if she was a marionette doll and some other worldly force was pulling her strings.   Camille was incoherent with need.  A taste would no longer do, she wanted all of him; she needed to feel the touch of someone who knew her and maybe loved her …a little.

  

 Carrick was watching it all.  While he was in the room with Lucien he had to finally tell his host that he had heard enough.  He asked Lucien, to just send the paperwork on the deal and he would review it and see if the deal was workable.  While the men in the room were adjusting themselves to Carrick’s blunt approach, he then politely excused himself from their presence.  As soon as he closed the door on his host and associates, he went looking for Mal.  If he had three choices to where he could find his lover, he knew that the first two did not count.  If he could find Camille-he knew he would find Mal.

 As Carrick eased himself onto the terrace, at first he could not see the couple he was looking for.  Then he walked along the length of the railing and saw more than he could imagine.  As Camille eased toward Mal and kissed him, Carrick felt all the air is his body evaporate with hardly a sound, while he watched perhaps the most provocative, carnal sexual play that he had seen for a long while.  

Carrick couldn’t help it.  In his most secret sensual fantasies he was a voyeur.  The best part of their very occasional threesomes, was watching the desire in his lover’s face-imagining that the play of emotions were similar to when Carrick was bringing him over.  Carrick enjoyed sitting by the bed while Mal was being touched and stimulated by another.  But something was always missing; it was never as intense as it was when it was just them, alone.  Sometimes it was slightly awkward.  Carrick could never get rid of the feeling that Mal was only responding to the sight of Carrick’s arousal from their fleeting sexual triad.  Malcolm may not have been reacting to the effects of having a willing woman participant joining their libidinous love games.

As Carr stood watching he waited for the heat of anger to come.  The wave of disappointment with Mal was there, but what surprised him the most was that his anger and jealousy did not overwhelm all rational thought.  Seeing them wrapped around each other brought about a completely different response.  The sight of their entwined bodies made him visualize stripping them each slowly and conjuring delightful ways to make them pay for each moment that they had chose to overlook his existence.  But, of course, he couldn’t let them get off so easily.  Slowly, Carrick moved closer into their little alcove and he began to loudly clap in a slow rhythmic way. 

Something was intruding into Mal’s mind.  Was that clapping?

Mal tore himself from Camille to look up at the source of the sound.

Like a magnet, his eyes immediately found Carrick’s.

Looking into the cold golden depths of Carr’s eyes was like a slap in the face to Mal.  Everything about him instantly sobered, yet Camille was making motions with her body like a baby blindly trying the find her mother’s breast.  Slowly, Mal attempted to soother her with his arms and then leaned it to press his cheek against hers, he whispered. “It’s Carr.”

At first Camille was so incoherent with the building need in her body that she could only register the small adjustment of Mal slowly and protectively moving his body away from her. She almost wept from the separation.  Then her mind finally registered exactly what he said and the sound of clapping behind her.

Camille whirled around in a panic.  She knew that Carrick had been dangerous with only the suspicion that she had designs on Mal.  Before it hadn’t been the truth, but now with the evidence staring him in the face, she honestly did not know what he was capable of and she didn’t have any defense against it-she was absolutely, totally in the wrong.  She had crossed boundaries that she hadn’t any business being near.  It didn’t matter that Mal had crossed them with her.  She had made the first move and that made her the most culpable.

She stared at Carrick with a fear unlike anything she had ever felt for Lucien or “Little Man”.  It didn’t matter what he said or did to her, she fear was what may happen between Carrick and Mal.

As Carrick stepped in closer to her, he looked at her with a queer look in his eyes.

“Carr, this wasn’t her fault…..” Mal began in a desperate attempt to shoulder the blame.

Carr looked up at Mal, his eyes saying volumes-words that had no translation in the English language. “Shut up.”  Carr quietly hissed at Mal.

Tears sprang to Camille eyes as she watched Carrick snap at his lover.  Instinctively, blindly, she reached out to Carr, irrationally thinking that her touch may somehow calm him down.

The cold speculative gleam on Carr’s face stopped Camille’s hand in mid air, only centimeters before she would have actually touched his body.  His incredulous look gave her all the confirmation she needed that it was pretty smart of her to rethink placing any part of her on him.  Still, Carrick stood so close to Camille that she could almost chart the course of her retribution oscillating in his eyes.  It was curious; he was standing close, yet not so close that so much as a molecule of him was touching her.  Camille craned her neck to look up at him, mesmerized by all of his lion-like, golden glory.  He was beautiful and terrible; breathtaking in his quiet fury. In a small part of her mind she observed; this must be what prey felt like right before the lion pounces, he completely overwhelms you.  Before you even have had the inclination to put up a defense, he has taken you down.

Carrick slowly circled Camille, “Maybe I should inquire regarding whether you are running a little two for one deal?  You know what, better yet, maybe I should just see for myself.” Without another sound Carrick swooped in and grabbed Camille’s head in his vise like hands and penetrated her lips with his tongue.  There was nothing sweet or seductive about his touch, he was meting out her punishment-pure and simple.  Constantly and consistently he head dove in to discipline her for her temerity in presuming to touch what was his.  Then somehow, slowly the kiss changed.  Either something weakened in Carrick, or strengthened his determination to punish.  Camille found herself now holding onto Carrick as she felt him commanding a response from her body.  His touch was so different than that of Mal’s, still the call of whatever was feral in her only matched the fierceness in him.  They were literally inhaling each other. His kiss, once vicious in its intensity, smoothed out and showed the skill of a man who was accomplished at the dance of seduction and power.

What Camille could not see was what was going on above her head.  After Carrick had finished executing his first lesson on betrayal, he decided to continue he lecture in another vein.  As he began to torture a response out of Camille using every ounce of sexual skill in his repertoire he sighed in triumph as Camille held on to him and moaned her pleasure.  Carrick then looked up at Malcolm with exultation for his victory.  You thought she responded like that only to you, you bitch!  Then Carrick turned up the heat, languorously he allowed his hands to run his hand along the sides of Camille’s body.   Camille was almost purring in approval.  As his hand dipped to each curve and finally paused at the full arch of her breast, he made sure that Mal was watching.   With each response that he wrenched from her body, he taunted Mal.  His eyes mocked Mal as he watched Mal’s lust and anger grow.

Carrick eyes threw down the gauntlet; You don’t like what I am doing? Let see if you can do better.

Malcolm felt as if his body was being possessed by someone else.  He knew that under normal circumstances he would never use anybody like this.  The only problem was that the scene playing before him was so hot.  Watching Carrick kiss Camille was like a being caught in the desert without fresh water and watching someone drinking the last of the supply; watching every gulp going down another’s throat and your own body mimicking the action in its own thirst.

Malcolm felt his body step forward so that the front of his body touched the back of Camille’s, until her ass was hugged between his thighs.

Carrick held his eyes.  Every step that Mal took only brought a deeper smile from Carrick’s eyes.  As Mal moved as close as he could to Camille he sent a look mercy to Carrick.  But Carr would stand for nothing less than annihilation, even from the man he most loved, maybe because it was the person he most loved. When they brought another into their intimate life it was always with the consent of the other.  Carrick sought to remind Mal that his escapade on the terrace with Camille was beneath him and betrayed them.

Slowly, while still kissing Camille, Carrick clasp each of Mal’s hand and brought them around Camille’s body to rest on her breasts.  Camille’s reaction to Mal’s touch was to almost slump between them.  The stimulation was too intense.  The feel of a man in front of her as well as nestled in her back almost made her hysterical with need.

Carrick released her lips and knelt down to grab her legs and wrapped them around his body.  His tutorial on respect and submission was now over.  Camille felt too good.  Malcolm’s desire was too hot – he was no longer able to control his own response to what was going on.  He only wanted to feel the passion that was overwhelming them all.  He was going to fuck Camille and then he was going to remind Malcolm why he would always belong to Carrick.   Slowly he began to grind himself into Camille, with each rotation he wrung out a hyperventilated breath from her lips. 

Mal was helping Carrick negotiate Camille’s slight weight, behind her he was also slowly rotating his hips, desperately drilling himself between the globes of her ass.  All that anyone can hear is their quiet harmony of, “yes, yes, yes….” 

Carrick took a step backward and moved a little to the right so that he could use the railing to brace his weight. It made it easier to do what he planned next.  Carrick searched Mal’s face as he held Camille fully in his arms.  Then captured his lover’s hands once again, and slid both under her dress.  At the touch of Camille’s moist heat they all almost collapsed with pleasure.  Now, it was time for Camille to grind as two very different fingers plunged into her depths.  She pushed hard at their fingers almost grunting with the effort to get their digits to touch that honey spot deep within.  Suddenly her eyes flew open, her body convulsed with sensation and her head fell back and she caught sight of Carrick and Malcolm, as she leaned heavily against Mal’s chest.

It was then that she opened her eyes to see Malcolm’s and Carrick’s contest of wills.  The revelation instantly made her unwrap her legs from around Carrick as she almost fell to her knees. Something in her broke and simultaneously cut the tenuous strings of intimacy between them.  As she startled at the realization of her precarious position, Carrick caught her and tried to help her right herself.  Sanity was like an ice cold bath.  This excruciating experience of sensation, she realized had nothing to do with her.  The men who had her sandwiched between them, the ones who has just brought her body to heights that she had never dreamed of, with just the friction of their bodies and the play of their fingers, were consummate duelers and her body was just the forum for their fight.

 “Shit!” Camille swore to herself, trying to gather the tiny bits of her composure.

For the second time in a twenty-four hour period Camille felt more like a whore than she had ever felt before. Camille violently pushed herself away from Carrick, away from his help, and found herself falling back into Mal’s arms.  Camille had the sensation that she was in a some strange fun house where everything is pulling at her and every entrance is really a dead end.  Camille let out a sob in her frustration.  Angry at allowing, even for a moment, someone in, to learn the lesson, again, that life and circumstance only wanted to cast her as a victim-a role she had believed that she was halfway successful in fighting.

Carrick sought to fill the silence, “Camille, I am sorry-I went too far.”

“Please just go-you got what you wanted from me.” Camille clutched the dress to her body, somehow the zipper had been released in their shared passion.  She felt so exposed, she couldn’t find a modicum of brovada to throw in Carrick’s face – as far as she was concerned he had paid her back in full.  She hoped he choked on his victory.

Carrick looked helplessly at Malcolm.

Malcolm looked like he wanted to deck him.

Malcolm moved toward Camille, wordless trying to offer some silent apology for…..everything.

Camille felt him at her back, she could almost envisioned his arms extended of offer her some type of solace.  The idea that he might actually touch her was unbearable – she knew that she would crack into a thousand little pieces at the very hint of his need to comfort her.  Make no mistake, the combination of both of these men was lethal to her sanity.  “Mal, please don’t.  Just go.”  She couldn’t look at him.

Both men looked at each other, turned and walked toward the terrace doors-a matching pair of gorgeous.  Though they walked along side each other they were a world apart.

What no one noticed, was a man of short stature following silently behind them.