The Glass House Ch. 03

"I don't really see the difference. But that is the bell for this apartment. Giorgio must be here now."

* * * *

Until they got into the sex, Jason was charmed with Cristian's friend, Giorgio, and would have found it hard to believe that the man, in his early thirties, muscular, good-looking, and as well and expensively dressed as Cristian was, was a pimp and recruiter for an escort agency. He knew the art world--and wines--being glib with Jason on art and fascinating in what he could impart on wines. He literally talked the pants off Jason as they sat on the sofa, with Cristian in a chair across from them, contributing to the talk but not to the sexual seduction, drinking wine and smiling with them.

The more wine they drank and deeper the conversation sank into the art Jason and Cristian had seen and studied that day, the more comfortable they got with each other and the more free Giorgio was in touching and fondling and moving close to--and eventually more or less on top of Jason.

Forty-five minutes after Giorgio entered the apartment, Jason was reclining into the corner of the sofa, back against the arm, his right leg running along the bottom cushion line, and his left leg bent, his toe on the carpet in front of the sofa. Giorgio was nearly reclining on top of Jason, his lips on Jason's throat. At forty-eight minutes and forty seconds, they were in a deep lip lock and Giorgio was unzipping Jason's trousers with his right hand. Twenty seconds after that they were still kissing and Jason's hard cock was being aired and Giorgio was slow stroking it.

At that point Giorgio suspended the progress of what undoubtedly was going to be a fuck long enough to check the scoring. "Cristian says you want to go to Lake Como."

"Yes," Jason answered. "I was told there were some places I really needed to see there since I was in this part of Italy."

"In Bellagio?" Giorgio asked.

"Most of the places are in or near that, yes."

"I could take you there tonight. There's a party on the lake near Bellagio. But you'd have to do some stuff for me in exchange."

Jason didn't answer, but they both knew Giorgio would tell him what Jason would have to do and Jason was busy panting and coming close to hyperventilating. Giorgio was an expert. He was working Jason's cock like a master, bringing him close to release but backing him off only to build him up again. and his lips were all over the young man's throat and lips. Jason was being held down by sculpted muscles of pure, tanned sexiness, and his body knew it and was shuddering from the attention. Giorgio took his hand off Jason's cock long enough to guide the young man's left hand to his crotch, where Giorgio had already unzipped himself and flared his trousers. He wasn't wearing briefs. He put Jason's hand on his cock and moved his own hand back to Jason's cock.

"You have to be at the party tonight as a player--as a bedding partner--talent--for some of our best clients."

"I understand," Jason whispered.

"Before I can show up with you, I have to know if you can perform and deliver."

"I understand," Jason repeated in a murmur.

"Showtime," Giorgio declared. He smoothly pulled Jason's T-shirt off his torso and his trousers and briefs down and off. Jason was naked other than his socks. Giorgio rose from the sofa, pulled his clothes off and posed so Jason could see what he was going to get and could gasp, which the young man did.

Giorgio came back on top of Jason and kissed and licked his way down the young man's torso and into his bush. He spent time preparing Jason by sucking his cock and balls and, bending Jason's knees up into his stomach, rolling Jason's pelvis up and eating him out--opening the young man's passage. Within seconds of coming for Giorgio, what Jason was going to get of the older man's shaft he was getting in the throat. He was draped further over the arm of the sofa, his head arced back, and Giorgio was standing behind him, feeding his cock into Jason's mouth, massaging the young man's throat to feel how the cock was working inside him with one hand, and gliding his other hand around on Jason's chest and belly, giving him nipple play.

When he was fully engorged, Giorgio hauled Jason up, put the young man over his shoulder, and carried him into the bedroom. When Cristian had finished his wine, he stood and walked to the door between the living area and the bedroom and leaned up against the frame, watching Giorgio fuck Jason. What he could see was Giorgio crouching over the foot of the bed, the view of him from the back magnificent, with heavily muscled biceps and shoulder muscles, his torso tapering down to a relatively narrow waist and then flaring out to bulbous glutes and then down to muscular legs. V'ing out from the man's clutching and releasing buttocks cheeks, were Jason's slender, lighter-colored legs, spread and raised at an enticing angle, toes pointed. Jason was babbling the song of the well fucked.

Cristian wondered if Giorgio could work his magic again and then laughed as he watched Jason's legs come down to wrap themselves around Giorgio's waist and the young man's hands come around to clutch at Giorgio's shoulder blades. The older man's thrusting increased in intensity and the two on the bed were colliding violently.

"Yesss. Fuck, you're big! Give it to me! GIVE IT TO ME!" he heard Jason cry out as Giorgio gave it to him.

Cristian watched for a couple of minutes more and then turned and went into the kitchen to prepare a dinner for three.

He was humming, but he couldn't drown out the cries from the bedroom--"Shit. Fuccck! You're killing me. Yessss! Oh, God, you're in so deep"--even if he'd wanted to, which he didn't. Giorgio indeed was working his magic. The new guy Cristian had found and brought to Giorgio was a real honey, and he knew how to take it and how to express his appreciation for getting it. He'd be a goldmine if he agreed to sign on with the escort agency. There was a finder's fee for recruiting new talent, and this guy was just so sexy--and he seemed ripe for it,

An hour and a half later, Giorgio and Jason were zooming along northward in a 2019 Alfa Romeo 4C sports roadster on the hour-and-forty-minute drive toward Bellagio on Lake Como. Giorgio had been pleased enough with Jason to offer him an escort agency contract on the spot. Jason had seemed coy about the possibilities of signing one, mumbling something about needing to go on to Venice after this, but his mind was actually too muddled from a masterful fuck to think straight about much of anything.

A bit of concern was pressing in on his mind, but he couldn't figure out why. Yes, this was more than he'd gotten into before, but this had been his choice, and although they'd been talking prostitution, he'd remained above that. What he'd let Giorgio take was just in exchange for being able to see Lake Como--as was anything that happened at this party they were going to. Wasn't it?

* * * *

The longest Jason got to be in Bellagio was the few minutes it took for Giorgio, at a bit after 11:00 p.m. that night, to nose the Alfa Romeo into a left turn onto the Via Degli Acquaroli road at the base of the peninsula into Lake Como that Bellagio occupied. He was heading west to the shores of the finger lake, turning south again along the shoreline. After a couple of miles, he turned into a drive with high brick columns on either side and an open double iron gate, manned on either side by thug-looking men with machine guns.

The Alfa Romeo was waved through the open gates, and Giorgio, obviously knowing where he was going, drove down a short drive lined with funeral Cypresses toward a large, Italianate structure set just above the rock riprap margin leading down to the lake. At the turning circle in front of the three-story mansion, all lit up at this hour with music and the sound of men-only conversation emanating from it, Giorgio turned right into a parking area stuffed with expensive-looking cars and surrounded by a high brick wall. He came to a halt, motioned Jason out of the car, and, when a valet appeared at Giorgio's door, said, "Non c'è bisogno. Resterò solo pochi minuti."

"What did you tell him?" I asked, as he drove on toward a parking apron. "I told him I didn't need valet parking--that I'd only stay a here a few minutes," Giorgio answered.

They were met at the front door of the mansion by a male "madam," statuesque, quite heavy, and quite heavily made up, in a gold Japanese kimono. The flamboyant man himself was some form of Asian. He was perhaps in his late forties and much more "interesting" in appearance than attractive. He certainly was attention getting.

"This is Niccolo," Giorgio told Jason. "He will take care of you from here."

"Giorgio, chi è questa bellezza che mi hai portato? Sarà uno dei preferiti. Vieni, lascia che ti presenti degli uomini. Fai quello che vogliono," Niccolo said.

"Jason non parla italiano, Niccolo. È un Americano," Giorgio responded. "Uno studente d'arte, che viaggia da solo. È molto rinfrescante e molto sottomesso." I have told Niccolo you are a university art student, traveling from America, Jason. He has complimented your beauty, and has told you to mingle with the men here and give them whatever they want. It is what you contracted for in my bringing you to Lake Como.

Jason didn't think of it as a contract, but what he asked was, "Is this a male brothel, Giorgio?"

"Ah, a young American," Niccolo said, in English, breaking in and taking Jason by the arm, pulling him into the foyer of the building, with its grand staircase leading up to the second level and beyond. Jason could see that the public rooms on the first floor were crowded with men--older men standing close to younger men, each with glasses in their hands, each close enough for intimate touching. Small groups of men continued up the staircase. "Giorgio tells us that you wish to experience the delights of the lake and that you will be spending the night with us. He also said you were a submissive to men and quite casual about it. You are a beautiful young man and will be a favorite here."

Yes, this was a male brothel, Jason thought, as Niccolo drew him into the foyer. Jason looked around, half thinking he was getting in over his head and of asking Giorgio to take him back to Milan. But Giorgio already was gone.

Resolved, still, if a bit shakily, he was convinced he could handle this, although it was a bit more challenging than where he had ever gone before. Jason allowed himself to be drawn into a large lounge, given a drink, and introduced into a group of smiling, older, and expensively dressed men. He was going to be fucked. He had accepted that much. This was still in the realm of his choice, not really being a prostitute. Wasn't it? He was, by all accounts, in a male brothel, with young male prostitutes scattered about the rooms and older men clients ogling, touching, and taking them upstairs. That was them, not Jason. He was here short term, trading sex for travel movement and experiences. That wasn't the same at all as selling his body for money.

As Jason was shown from group to group and shown off, he first sensed and then observed that he was being watched from across the room by a satyr-like, dark, swarthy man in his fifties, who was staring at him, making him feel that the man was undressing him with his eyes and would be interested in laying him on a table right here in the crowd and do so as the other men watched. The other men, indeed, seemed to give him deference and Niccolo went to him from time to time to whisper something before he went off. Most of the other men--the patrons--in the rooms were dressed elegantly, some even in tuxedos. The man watching--more glowering--at Jason with dark, piercing eyes, stood out in dress. He was wearing tight black-leather trousers, over black leather boots, with a billowy, loose white cotton shirt over it. The shirt was open almost down to the navel, revealing a swarthy, muscular torso, with a black leather harness criss-crossing it. The man achieved the appearance of both malevolence and sexiness. The man's eyes followed Jason up the stairs when he was ascending them under the guidance of a tall, gaunt man, in a priest's cassock.

A half hour later, Jason was bent over a bed on the second floor, the priest standing close behind him, his cassock unbuttoned and flaring, his claws grasping Jason's hips, as he fucked the young man in a doggy position. The man who had been ogling Jason brazenly opened the door to the bedroom after the priest had Jason in position and started fucking him and lounged against the doorframe for several minutes, watching the coupling. At some point he withdrew, and when Jason and the now-robed priest came back downstairs, the satyr-like man was nowhere to be seen.

Another half hour later Jason was on the third floor of the mansion--the upper two floors housing bedrooms. He had been guided up there by two men this time. He was straddling one older, somewhat overweight man, Paolo by name, he'd said, who has lying on his back on the bed. Jason was on top of him, facing him, his palms pressed to the man's meaty pecs, and riding Paolo's cock. Jason had come upstairs with two men. The other was taller, thinner, and even older than Paolo. He'd introduced himself as Roberto. He seemed the richer and more cultured of the two and was sitting by the bed, as naked as the other two, drinking brandy from a snifter, stroking his cock with the other hand, and quite attentively watching Jason ride Paolo's cock.

At length, though, the brandy drained, Roberto placed the snifter on a small table, climbed up onto the bed behind Jason, reached around Jason to palm the young man's belly with one hand, and placed the bulb of his erection at Jason's hole above where Paolo's shaft was buried. Jason cried out and writhed as Roberto penetrated him. Paolo lay still, his hands holding Jason steady at the waist, while Roberto, palming Jason's pecs, took his turn fucking Jason, Paolo's cock still buried in Jason's hole. Jason had never been doubled before.

Jason was being doubled now. Once again the satyr-like man in black leather showed up in the doorway to lean into the frame and watch Jason being doubled. And once again, when the fuck was over, the man was gone.

The young man was woozy from drink when Paolo and Roberto fucked him in the third-floor bedroom of the brothel. It had helped keeping him loose and able to take the two cocks. When they left him, they left a nearly full bottle of scotch, which he finished off and drifted off into a liquor-induced, gut-pained stupor.

Jason didn't wake until morning, and only did so then when Niccolo, the heavy Chinese madam, rolled over on top of him in a different bed--Niccolo's own bed--coaxed Jason's legs open, and, pressing Jason almost immobile to the mattress with his weight, penetrated and fucked him.

"Tomasso will take you back to the other room, where you can shower and dress," Niccolo said when he rolled off Jason. "You did very well last night. Roberto spoke highly of you and wants to use you again."

"I'm here to see a few things at Lake Como--like the silk museum," Jason said. "Then I want to go on to Venice."

As if he hadn't heard him, Niccolo said, "The barrage will take you to The Glass House near Colico this morning. I will meet you down at the dock to see you off."

"The Glass House?" Jason asked, but Niccolo had already left the room.

After showering and dressing, Jason was accompanied down to the dock by a burly man who didn't smile and obviously was not to be toyed with. Niccolo was at the dock. Two men--obviously other passengers, as denoted by their expensive clothes--were seated in the barge.

"You did very well last night. I was right that you will be a favorite." Niccolo said.

Will be? Jason thought.

"You have earned this," Niccolo said, extending a wad of high-denomination euro bills.

"Sorry, I can't take that," Jason said, holding up his palms, not accepting the money. "I don't do it for pay. I'm not a prostitute. I just made a deal for transportation here. Giorgio will be picking me up again this evening, I think--after I've toured Bellagio."

Niccolo laughed, and as the thug who had brought Jason out of the mansion turned him to the barge, Niccolo stuffed the money in Jason's pocket. "That's not the way it is going work, dear," the man said as the barge moved away from the dock.

Jason sat between the two men in the barge. They introduced themselves as Renzo and Emilio. They were both beautiful, beefed-up body builders with magnificent, muscular bodies. As the barge moved northeast on the northern finger of Lake Como, the two men touched, kissed, and fondled Jason's body. By the time they docked at The Glass House, Jason was reclining between the two men. All of them had their cocks out of their flies. The two men were sharing Jason's lips and each had a hand wrapped around the young man's cock, and Jason had a cock in each hand.

Across from them, sitting and watching them, ensuring that Jason was behaving himself with the house clients, was the serious-aspected thug who had become Jason's babysitter.

Although it was very arousing to him, this had not been Jason's choice. He couldn't pretend that he had chosen this--or that he didn't have money in exchange for sex in his pocket.

* * * *

As they drew close to The Glass House, the two men who had been working on Jason, Renzo and Emilio, withdrew their hands from him and started readjusting their clothing. Jason looked along the shore of the lake and saw it, a structure unlike anything else on the lakeshore, jutting out over the rocks as if it was floating above the water. It was a cube, two stories of glass walling on a rock-walled base at a point of land that projected into the water. All of the walls, both exterior and interior, were of glass. One small, landward section on the second floor was glass brick, presumably where the bathrooms were, but otherwise the building was completely transparent, leading the eye back to a mound of earth on the landward side of it, protecting it from the lake rim road. This was arrestingly different from the classical architecture of most other buildings and villages on the lakeshore.

"That's stunning," Jason exclaimed. "So open, revealing everything inside."

"Not so open," Renzo, one of the men beside him, said. "It has its secrets."

"I wonder--" Jason started to say.

"You won't wonder for long. That's where we're headed. The Glass House," Renzo said.

"It's fantastic. Just seeing this has made my trip to Lake Como worthwhile. But headed there? Why?"

"Why, because that's where Renzo and I are going to fuck you--for all the world to see and appreciate," Emilio chimed in. "The other boats are already beginning to form." And, indeed, several small yachts and speedboats were gathering in that part of the lake.

"The house belongs to Vincenzio Attacun," Renzo said. "He's a shipping magnate in the Eastern Mediterranean, who is half Turkish and half Italian. He rents it out for a select clientele of those with particular needs. He owns the brothel you came from and the privately used hotel there, directly across the lake."

"I'm not connected with the brothel," Jason said, but the men weren't listening to him. The barge had reached the dock of The Glass House, and the three men were manhandling Jason along the dock across the driveway and into a door in the rock wall the two stories of glass rested on. Garage doors were at the left of the door, under the mound of hill that divided the house from the rim road.

Renzo and Emilio stripped into the rock-walled foyer and undressed Jason there as well. They guided him up a sun-drenched staircase into the two stories of glass above. He was given a short tour of the living, dining, and kitchen area on the first floor, with all partitions being clear glass and the furniture white and low-silhouetted and then the upstairs, two bedrooms, each with a glass-block walled bath set toward the landside hill, the glass opaque enough to cloud up detail but translucent enough to allow light through and to see figures.