And Eat It Too

[Warning: Contains casual pansexual sex, gay male sex, lesbian sex, interracial sex, coercion, and pregnant sex. Gay male sex is emphasized.]

*****

"Hello there. Welcome to the Grove Manor Inn. I'm . . . here let me help you with those. Let me take at least one of them. I'm Albert, the lazier part of Mark and Albert."

He spoke "Albert" without the closing "T," and, from both his mixed British and Caribbean islander accent and his strikingly good "best of several races" looks, it wasn't hard to conclude that he was Jamaican. He also was a hunk and a half, beautifully built, at least six foot two tall, broad in the chest, and slim in waist and hips.

Andy had known a gay couple operated the B&B on Grove Street, in Richmond, Virginia's, Fan District—a mostly residential area of large, late nineteenth and early twentieth century row house that took its name because the streets radiated west away from the government center in the form of a fan. The Web site had made quite clear the two male hosts were a couple, if in a subtle way, so that potential guests would know before deciding to book. Andy didn't know, however, that at least one of the couple was a god-like, light-chocolate hunk.

That didn't help Andy one bit. He wouldn't have booked into the B&B, knowing it was run by a gay couple. He was having a hard enough time not hyperventilating what he was doing in Richmond at all—what was expected of him here. Sandi had made the reservations.

And Sandi was still working her way out of the front seat of their Volvo SUV. She wasn't clumsy; she was six months pregnant and showing. And she was feeling every added inch of girth and had been complaining of the discomfort all the way from the coast.

"And, by process of elimination, you must be the Clemons," Albert said as he reached out for one of the bags Andy was carrying at the back gate into the swimming pool area of the B&B. Andy had entered the alley behind the Grove Street houses, as directed, and parked between two cars on a four-car parking pad. "The Arnolds are already here and settled in. There are just the four of you for the two nights you'll be with us. The Arnolds are staying longer than you at both ends."

"Hello," Andy finally said, trying not to look at Albert like he could eat the man up, "Yes, we're the Clemons. This is Sandra. I'm Andy."

Sandra Clemons had finally caught up with them, although she was moving almost in a waddle. She was still stretching her spine with a fist in the small of her back and looking slightly harried from the drive from the coast. Beyond that, she was looking radiant, a small blonde who looked every bit the sportswear model she'd been before she'd had her first child. She smiled at Albert and shook his free hand. Andy was still juggling a suitcase, a computer bag, and the bolster pillow stuffed in a bag. Sandra couldn't get comfortable without a body pillow to lean full length against when she finally got around to sleep. Despite showing six months, she still needed attention from Andy most nights before going to sleep.

The B&B, an imposing three-story structure—with the bottom two stories being deeper toward the back of the lot—was set on a double city lot. The house was on a corner, fronting on Grove, and with its western side running along North Meadow. An old carriage house was at the back corner, long side to the alley and short side to North Meadow. The upstairs had been converted into a small apartment, Andy knew, as, for a steep price, it was available for rent as one of the B&B suites. He knew there were three two-room suites in the main house, one on the second floor against the wall facing North Meadow, and two on the third floor. He and Sandra had one of the third-floor suites. The eastern half of the double lot was taken up with a brick patio with a fair-sized kidney-shaped swimming pool in the middle.

In swim suits and rising from pool beds beside the pool as Andy, first, and then Sandra and Albert entered the yard, were what must be the other couple staying at the B&B. He was older, maybe in his fifties, of imposing stature—barrel chested, well-muscled for his age, bald and bull necked, but with bushy eyebrows and a chest heavily matted with curly salt and pepper hair. His stomach was still flat and his legs were those of a rugby player. A man, standing ramrod straight, of military bearing and Marine physique.

The woman, in contrast, was a raven-haired, trim, elegant society dame type either not older than her late thirties or having an expert plastic surgeon on retainer. She was tanned to a golden sheen and proudly and unapologetically wearing a black string bikini. Despite her age, no apologies or self-consciousness were required. Still, she was so deeply bronzed that the tanning must be perpetual and she'd probably be looking like old leather in ten years. In the meantime, though, she was gorgeous.

"Admiral and Mrs. Arnold—Hal and Margaret," Albert said, gesturing with his free hand toward the couple at the pool. "These are the Clemons. Sandra and Andrew. I'll just get the Clemons settled in their suite and either they'll come down to the pool or they'll see you for wine and cheese on the back porch at five." Albert said the last with a slight tilt up to the inflection of a question as he turned and looked at Sandra and Andy.

"What do you think, Sandi?" Andy asked. "Do you feel up to . . .?"

"I think a rest first," she answered.

"Yes, of course. There will be plenty of time for fuller introductions at the wine and cheese hour," Albert said hurriedly. "I've made dinner reservations for you at Can Can, as you requested, but those aren't until seven."

"Was it a tiring trip for you, my dear?" Margaret asked, making it obvious that she was taking note of Sandra's condition. "Did you have to come from far?" She had a smooth, but low-pitched voice. Sultry almost. It went with the rest of the package.

"Just from Norfolk," Andy answered for both of them. "Traffic wasn't too bad on 64, though. Not much more than an hour and fifteen minutes."

"Oh, a coincidence. We're from Norfolk too," Margaret said. "The naval base."

The four of them—Sandra, Andy, Margaret, and Hal—muttered a few transitional pleasantries before Albert guided the young couple to a door at the rear of the main house that led onto a porch and then what was probably a reading room set beside a large kitchen, and then into the center stair hallway. Throughout the time, Hal had stood almost glowering at them. It wasn't an unfriendly stare, but it seemed to be a quizzical one, and his attention seemed to be centered on Andy.

But he wasn't the only one scrutinizing Andy. Albert was doing so, as well as he could, as he showed them around the four ornate public rooms on the first floor, describing how they essentially had remained the same since a railroad baron had built the house in 1910, before taking them two flights up to their suite. Andy could feel Albert's speculative gazes focus on him, and it sent electricity through his body. Could he tell? And how could he tell, Andy wondered. And how could Andy just deflect that interest to a back burner?

As they'd passed the door into the kitchen, Albert introduced them to the other half of the management team, Mark, who quite obviously was the domesticated half of the partnership. He was puttering around in the kitchen, doing whatever B&B cooks had to do in the afternoon. In many respects, he was quite similar to Andy—slightly below average height; trim, but well-muscled; and strikingly good looking in a classic blond way. He also was slightly effeminate, which became obvious immediately, both from the tone of his voice and the way he carried himself. Andy wasn't effeminate, so the similarity didn't dig down too deeply.

"You're the only ones on the third floor," Albert was saying as he reached that landing, so you should have all the privacy you need. The Arnolds are on the second floor—across from Mark and me.

Andy wondered if Albert had said that just to drive home to Andy that he—Albert—was gay. But then, Andy thought, "maybe it's the whole nature of this trip that has my antennae up and has me on edge. That's all in the past. I'm married now and have managed without someone like Albert for the last three years now".

Alone in their suite, having explored the two rooms and bath and tucked their suitcases away, Andy said, "You sure you don't want us to put on our suits and go for a swim? You want to try to take a nap?"

"I want to take a nap, but I want you to put me to sleep as you usually do, Andy," she answered, giving him "that look." "I want to try out that 'all the privacy we need.'"

He fucked her on the queen-sized bed, gently from the rear, as he more frequently was doing as her pregnancy progressed. She lay on her side, with him stretched behind her, her head resting on the crook of his arm, his other hand palming her belly, with one of her hands on top of his. He was inside her, long enough to maintain position from the rear, and slowly moving in and out, letting the friction of the slide and her ability to make her muscles shimmer over his cock bring him to and beyond an ejaculation before both of them drifted off into a light sleep.

* * * *

"Are you folks in Richmond for business or pleasure?" Albert asked when everyone was gathered on the back porch with wine all around, except for the admiral, who had a beer. "Is there anything you need help with as far as where to go and what to do?" He was still giving Andy a look that Andy well knew from "the old days."

"I'm here on business," Andy answered. "Sandi came along for the company."

"I plan to take in the Museum of Fine Arts tomorrow," Sandra answered. "I hear it has a good collection. Is it within walking distance?"

"Not quite, especially for someone in your condition," Margaret said. "Is this your first?"

"No, we have an eighteen-month-old, Aaron. My mother is watching him for us. She's been pressuring me to take some time off from him. Of course, she just wants Aaron all to herself for a few days."

"You can't blame her for wanting that," Margaret answered, with a husky laugh. "I planned to take in the museum while we were here myself. Hal's here for meetings at the state capitol. Something to do with the naval bases in Norfolk, I think. And I'm just trying to amuse myself. I might as well do it with company, if you're interested."

The admiral broke into the conversation for the first time, directing his question at Andy. "You look very familiar. I'm sure I've seen you someplace before."

"I don't know how that would be possible," Andy answered. "I wasn't in the Navy."

Margaret was still talking as well. "The museum opens at ten. I could drive you over there after breakfast and tour it with you."

"That would be wonderful, thanks," Sandra said. "We have dinner reservations at a place called Can Can in Carytown this evening, which I'm told is nearby. Have you and your husband been there, or maybe you'd like—?"

"I've heard of it and would like to try it," Margaret said, "but I think we're set to dine at the Commonwealth Club tonight."

"We'd be happy to join you at Can Can tonight," Hal Arnold said, still scrutinizing Andy with his eyes. His voice was deep and commanding. "Albert?"

"I'm sure I can add you to the reservation," Albert said as he rose to do so.

The dinner conversation was easy—at least between Margaret and Sandra. Andy was a little reticent, and Hal was mostly silent and observant but broke in occasionally with more questions on where he could have seen Andy before.

"We've been in Chicago since we married," Andy said. "I've only recently been reassigned to Norfolk by my firm." Andy didn't really want to think about that—and certainly not about tomorrow's meeting. The client he was meeting was a very important one for his office, and the president of the firm, which was headquartered in Norfolk, had made quite clear that Andy had been brought back and moved up because there was a certain service he could provide for the firm. Andy had no idea how Chaz had found out about his past, but he had, and now Andy was over the barrel. Starting a family meant he needed stability and a good salary in a job. He had few illusions why he was the only one who could take on this meeting and this client in Richmond.

"Do whatever it takes," Chaz had said. "Give the man whatever he wants—whatever will make him sign on the dotted line."

"But we were in Norfolk before that," Sandra crossed conversational lines. "We both went to Old Dominion."

"So, I might have seen you somewhere around the naval base area," Hal mused out loud.

"I sort of doubt that," Andy said. "How was your steak? It looked like it would be delicious."

The admiral let him redirect the conversation, but Andy could see that the man was still working the recognition issue. Andy hoped he didn't work that too hard. He knew perfectly well where the admiral might have seen him near the Norfolk naval bases.

When they returned to the B&B, the Arnolds went directly upstairs and Andy and Sandra lingered a bit in the public area. Albert came out of the kitchen to ask them how the dinner was and to offer them a brandy.

"Thanks, but I've been thinking of that old claw-footed tub that's in our bathroom," Sandra said. "I think I'll go upstairs and soak in the tub and read a book for an hour or more. You guys go ahead and have your brandy."

When Albert came back with two brandies, he was shirtless. "Hope you don't mind. It's really hot back there in the kitchen. We have an air conditioning system, but it doesn't reach everywhere in this monstrosity of a house. Seven thousand square feet. Would you believe it? They didn't scrimp on space in those days. All of these old houses in the Fan District are large, like this one. It costs a fortune to heat in the winter."

Andy both minded that Albert was showing his magnificent chest and didn't mind at all. He also knew what Albert was signaling, and Andy both minded and, not being able to help himself, didn't mind that. The man was wearing tight jeans, and it was obvious he had a hard on—and wasn't going to bother to hide it. He kept giving Andy the eye, and he spread his legs as he sat in a Victorian chair facing where Andy sat and let a hand go to rest on his crotch. Andy looked away and blushed. But he didn't get up and leave and he didn't hide that he was taking furtive glances at Albert's body.

"Say, I didn't show you everything when I gave you the tour this afternoon. I didn't show you the carriage house suite. Would you like to see it now? It has a bed to die for."

He couldn't get much more suggestive than this. Andy blushed and looked away, but it would be obvious to anyone looking on that he'd been hooked. Involuntarily, he spread his thighs where he was seated and his hand dropped to the hardening curve inside his trousers.

"Where's Mark this evening?" Andy asked nervously.

"Oh, he has to hit the sack very early. He'll be up at the crack of dawn tomorrow to get your gourmet breakfast prepared. I may be too exhausted in the morning to make breakfast." He was looking at Andy suggestively. "So, would you like to see the carriage house? No one's booked there the whole time you're with us, and it's quite private."

"Yeah, I guess so," Andy said. He felt so weak and so aroused. It was this whole deal of coming to Richmond to satisfy an important client—and knowing what would be expected—required—to satisfy the client. Andy hadn't done anything like that for three years. He hadn't planned ever to do it again, if he could avoid it. But that didn't mean he didn't think about it—often.

They stood and Andy followed Albert down the hall toward the back of the house. As they approached the back porch, though, they encountered Hal Arnold, sitting there and smoking a cigar.

At the sight of the admiral, who would have seen them enter the carriage house, Andy lost his nerve. "On second thought, maybe sometime tomorrow. Sandra will want to see it too."

Albert controlled his disappointment. "OK, that's fine. I guess I'll turn in now. Shall we go on upstairs? And don't worry about disturbing anyone tonight. The other suite on your floor is empty for the next two nights."

Was he just suggesting a change of venue? If so, it didn't matter to Andy where they did it—as long as it was in the dark so he could pretend he hadn't given in to it.

"You go on ahead, Albert," the admiral said in that commanding voice. "I'd like to talk to Andy about something."

Trapped, Andy watched helplessly, as Albert slung his T-shirt over his shoulder and clumped up the stairs. The wooden floors were so old and groaning in the house that there was no hiding who was moving where.

When they were alone, the admiral gave Andy a piercing stare. "I remember now where I saw you before. At the Reef, that bar down the street from the entrance into the naval base. You were one of the pole dancers."

Deflated, Andy sank into a porch chair. "That was a long time ago," he said in a small voice.

"You also gave massages and serviced sailors, in rooms at the back of the club, I was told," Arnold continued.

"It's how I paid for college. It was a long time ago. I changed and have a new life now."

"A man who fucks men never really changes."

"I haven't . . . for years. Haven't serviced men. I have a family now."

"And if you want to keep that all lovey-dovey, you'll service me."

There was a powder room off the back of the hallway, next to a door into the kitchen. Naked, Andy sat on the toilet, while Arnold, shirtless and his trousers unzipped and flared, hunched over him, stiff arming the wall behind Andy, while Andy sucked a big, thick cock.

When Arnold felt like it, he went down on his knees in front of the toilet, draped Andy's legs over his shoulders, and went after Andy's asshole with his tongue. After a while, he made Andy stand, turn, and place a knee on the toilet cover and a foot on the floor next to the toilet, as the admiral covered his slighter and shorter body from behind, cupping Andy's chin with one hand and palming his belly with the other, as he fucked him fast and hard to an ejaculation.

"See, once you've done it, you never forget how to do it," Arnold said when he was finished. "You got hard. You came for me while I was fucking you. You needn't pretend you don't want it."

"Please, I did it. Can we just forget all about it now?"

"I could forget all about it," Arnold said, "although it was good enough—you're sexy enough—for me to want to remember it. I get it regularly with sailors. But, not having had it for three years, you say, you aren't going to be able to forget about it now. You're going to come back and beg me for it tomorrow night." He laughed then, zipped himself up, and shrugged into and buttoned his shirt.

He left Andy there to contemplate both how miserable he was that it had started up again but also how much he had sacrificed by avoiding it for the past three years. He didn't feel ashamed, only frustrated. He knew he would be doing something like this the next day for his office. And, truth be known, he would have done it tonight with Albert, if they had managed to get someplace private.

Maybe even now—but now it was late. Sandi would want to know why he was gone so long if there was a chance that Albert was waiting for him in that empty suite on the third floor. When he went up to the third floor, he saw that the door to that suite was ajar and that Albert—naked and with the body of a god—was waiting in the shadows of the room. But, with a sigh, Andy turned in the other direction and entered his suite.

Sandra was asleep on the bed, turned away from his side. He was grateful for that. He was sure that she would see the guilt on his face if she'd still been awake. One thing he did know now—he would do all he could to avoid Hal Arnold from now on. And he'd fight the urge to go with Albert too. He'd do what he had to do to get the client to sign that contract, but he wouldn't let this get out of control—or more out of control, he had to concede.