The Personal Manager

"And if I say nay, you won't just grab me and take what you want?"

"Yay or nay?"

There was a pause, but then Brian said, "Yay," and continued on into the study.

"So, do you want me just to grab you and take you?"

Another slight pause. "Yes, I want you just to grab me and take me. Let's see about this computer first, though."

Eben took a beer back into the family room, plopped down onto the sofa and watched the rest of the baseball game. It went into two extra innings, and the Diamondbacks came back to win. Eben switched off the set—luckily Brian had left the correct remote separate from the others—and went back to the study.

"Just about got it fixed," Brian said, looking up. He could clearly see that Eben was in erection again. "It should be just a few minutes and I'll have it . . . Hey."

Eben pulled Brian up from the chair, threw him over his shoulder, mounted the stairs to the master bedroom on the second floor, tossed the younger man onto the bed, mounted his ass, and fucked the shit out of him. Brian loved it. He'd never been taken caveman style before—well, not before he came to this house with Eben.

* * * *

"The reroofing and a bit of plumbing and electrical work. And the gutters are clogged. I put the cabinet door here in the kitchen back on while I was taking stock in here. That wasn't much of an effort. There's a lot to be done here, but we can either do it all ourselves or contract it out. I see that you've signed up for the full home management package. That covers the management side of the work but the costs of the work itself . . ." The young man paused and looked at Eben, sitting across from him at the kitchen island.

"I can afford it and I want to have it all done," Eben said. At least he hoped and assumed he could afford it. That was something else he hadn't done. He hadn't even gone in Lauren's office and god knows how he was going to grasp her filing system and the status of his finances. He hadn't even cleared up the benefits from her having died on the job. Her sister had come and taken care of all of the funeral arrangements or he would have been lost on that. He had been called back on short notice from Libya. That young man, Samir, had clung to him at the airport and he'd been moving like a zombie.

"Of course it's an ongoing need, you know. I don't know how long this has been—"

"Yes, I understand that," Eben said, his voice tired. This was all beyond him, and he was both embarrassed and despondent that he had let himself get so clueless on taking care of a house—or much of anything. "You can go ahead and make arrangements and take notes on what will go next and need attention. I don't think the clothes dryer works. Three months. This happened in just three months."

"Three months?"

"Yes. My wife died and I was in Libya on assignment—I work for an oil discovery and extraction company. Internationally. But the truth is that it doesn't matter where I was. When I was on location, we had maintenance men who handled it all. My wife had always taken care of all of this on the home front." This was the first time he'd flat out said to a complete stranger that his wife hadn't just left him—she'd died. Somehow, saying it took a little of the burden off. "She died in that airplane accident near Chicago that was all over the news. It was sudden. One minute there, the next minute gone. No chance to make any preparations. I can't even bear to go into her home office."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Harrison. Should I maybe come back later? I'm really sorry. We can take this slower." Eben looked at the young man. He wished he could think of a great-looking guy like this in any other way than topping him, but he couldn't help it. He'd have a ball topping this honey.

"No, let's hear it all on what needs to be done from here. Maybe getting it done can go a little slower, though. What really needs to be done yesterday?"

"Well, as I said, you're now signed up for full coverage, so we'll take care of it all in logical order for as long as you remain here and keep the contract up."

Looking at you would help me keep it up, was Eben's first thought. But then he told himself to get a grip. The guy was here to help him get this place back in order. He thinks I should move, Eben thought. He thinks this is too much for me even with his company managing the upkeep.

"You think I should just move?"

"I think you made a good decision calling us in," the young man answered. "I understand it's not a good idea to make any big decisions like moving for the first year."

The young man, Michael Sharp, was resting his forearm on the countertop. Was he extending sympathy, offering condolences? Or something more. He was a handsome young man. Eben had heard the truck come into the driveway and had gone to his bedroom window. The young man who had exited the van, the young man who was to handle the inventory of what needed to be done to the house to bring it back up to working level and then to watch over the management contract was younger than Eben had expected. He also was more of a hunk—medium height, very well built, moved with the grace of a cat. Dark haired, maybe partly Hispanic. Hair pulled back in a ponytail. Eben was fighting the desire to reach out and let the young man's hair down.

That Eben had contacted a house management company—even that he had found out that such a thing existed—had been fortuitous. Brian had mentioned such a company when he'd been here, and just earlier this week there had been a brochure advertising such a company put in Eben's mailbox. He'd called the company and then went in and had a contract within two days of seeing the brochure.

Eben's first reaction was to start going hard and to image letting the young man's hair down and running his fingers through it as he covered him. But then he was irritated with himself. Why was it that he was assessing all young men he encountered these days as a sex partner—a sex conquest? Was this part of his reaction to being so suddenly left alone? Before now, he'd been able to compartmentalize his sex activity, although it was true that the season brought it out of him. He called it his summer lovin' phase. It came around every year at this time. The young men were only for while he was on temporary duty overseas, and then mainly in the summer, where he could take them out on a hillside and lay them good. He used them and they wanted to be used.

That wasn't completely true—that it only happened in the field—or only in the summer. There were a couple of gay bars he went to here, but when he got a blow job or laid a young man, it was always at a cheap motel or in a gay cruising club. Brian was the first young man he'd brought to the house.

And his main impression from Brian's visit two weeks earlier was that the house was falling down around his head and he had to do something about it—get someone to manage the house's needs or move into a condo apartment. He didn't want to leave the house. He was comfortable here—and not just living here. He was comfortable with the memories here. Like this Michael had just said, Lauren's sister had told him not to make any changes for a year—not to make life-changing decisions for a while. He thought she was right.

"Another sandwich?" he asked, pushing the plate toward Michael. The young man had made his assessment, which ran up to lunchtime. He'd said he could come back after lunch to discuss what needed to be done with Eben, but Eben was eating alone too much of the time these days. He'd invited the young man to talk over lunch here, and, a bit to his surprise, Michael had accepted.

"Will you be the one who does the managing?" he asked. He didn't know whether he wanted that or not. The young man was a temptation.

"For the rest of the summer at least," Michael said. "And that should get everything that needs attention right now back in order. I'll be a junior at the University of Houston in September. It's close enough that I could keep this assignment longer than that if we get it down to just ongoing maintenance—and if I get a room somewhere between here and the university."

"I hope that can be arranged," Eben said, avoiding looking directly at Michael, because he couldn't deny to himself that he was having urges for the young man and didn't want to reveal them. He'd been told that he was an open book with young men. In many ways that was an advantage. If they were interested too, there wasn't much doubt to work through. Mostly the question became who was going to top, but with Eben's looks and personality that wasn't much of a question either. He was a take-control power top and usually the other guy quickly understood that.

"I hope so too."

"Well," Eben said, standing up from the counter, "I know I can afford it, but I'd better dig into the paperwork my wife left—she handled all that too; she was a lawyer and was the one who stayed based in Houston. I'll have to do some research to see what is where and what accounts to touch."

"I'll just be a while longer. But I'll be back. I can come tomorrow, Saturday, if you'll be here. Or I can hold off until Monday."

"Better make it Monday," Eben said. He hadn't had plans before, but Michael had made him horny. Eben would be cruising tonight and, who knows, there might be someone in his bed tomorrow morning. Best not to reveal his interests to Michael like that—or that soon. Shit, he thought, why can't I stop thinking about making this guy? It would not be a good thing to play this close to home—even if the guy is all that I like to spike.

* * * *

Eben took himself to the Eagle on Hyde Park that Friday night. The place had a good mix of leather, for which he himself often was taken when he went into a gay bar, especially on nights like this when he wore a white mesh T-shirt that clearly showed off his dragon full-sleeve tattoo, and young preppy types. What was good about this bar was that it was where young preppy types came for a thrill with a guy in leather. Unless they took a wrong turn at some point, they came in here for hookups where they would be manhandled. Eben wore tight black leather jeans. He was looking for someone who was looking for him—for something like they'd get in the tents and on the hillsides in the fields around Tashkent.

It surprised him who he found.

He was sitting at one end of the bar, turned to the dance floor and watching the guys dancing. A few of them were watching him watch them dancing, and he didn't think it would take him long to pick someone up he could fuck hard in his car, release the sexual tension that gripped him, and still get home in time to get a good night's sleep.

Not long after he leaned into one end of the bar, though, he saw the home management guy, Michael Sharp, come in and sit at the other end of the bar. That surprised him. Although he'd been aroused by Michael earlier that day, which was what prompted him to go on the prowl tonight, he hadn't sensed that coming back at him from Michael. It came back at him now, though. It didn't take long for their eyes to make contact. Michael's expression was a smoldering one. Eben had been served a beer; Michael hadn't flagged down a bartender yet to order one. Eben lifted his beer and gave Michael a querying look, and he got the response he wanted. They halved the distance between them and met in the middle of the bar.

"Buy you a beer?" Establish yourself as being in command right off the bat was Eben's mantra. If a guy let you buy them a drink in a bar like this, you had started the dance of hooking up.

"Sure, thanks."

"I'm surprised to see you in here. I didn't get a hint of interest in anything like this earlier today. But then maybe it was just me you weren't interested in," Eben said. He didn't have all night to cruise. There might be a shot with this guy. This was the guy who had caused Eben to come out looking for a lay tonight. But if this wouldn't work out, Eben needed to move on to a hookup that would. He'd already seen three guys in the bar who looked at him like they'd be easy pickings—and were fairly good to look at.

"I'm not surprised," Michael said. "I'll be completely honest with you. Are you paying for this beer because you saw someone you knew in here and want to be friendly or are we talking negotiating a fuck hookup? Are you interested in fucking me?"

"I'm interested in fucking you. I was looking for something easy and fast tonight—because you turned me on at the house earlier—but you're revving well ahead of me here. The mantra is that the top isn't closing the deal until the submissive accepts the second beer."

"And you don't like that—that I'm moving right to the punchline?"

"I like that fine. Simple and easy. Rocks off all around. But why aren't you surprised to see me in here?"

"The short version, because I'd really, really like to get to it. I know where the tail of that dragon is going."

"You know about the dragon?"

"Yes. Confession time. Brian is a friend of mine. He told me about the wild night he had with you. He also told me you needed help with your house desperately or it was going to land on your head. I put the brochure in your mailbox. I volunteered to take your house assignment. I want what Brian got."

"Brian got it really rough and a lot. I was in a state, so he got the whole enchilada. You sure that's what you want?"

"Yeah, that's what I want."

"So, you're not really interested in managing the maintenance on my house."

"Yes. That part's exactly as presented. And that's why I was all business at the house. I want to do the house manager bit. I'd just like some fringe benefits with it. I want to meet the dragon."

They were both so anxious that Eben fucked Michael in the car, in the garage, before they moved into the house. The automatic car door mechanism balked at first when Eben pulled into the garage and tried to close the door behind him. It finally worked but while Eben was fiddling with it and muttering, "another fucking breakdown," Michael was all over him with his hands, pulling at his clothes and saying, "I want to see it. I want to see the dragon. I want to see where the tail goes."

"Give me a minute to get the fuckin' door closed," Eben growled. But he also was laughing and was pulling at Michael's clothes.

"I'll add that to the 'get it fixed' list. But first the dragon . . . shit is that where it ends up? Shittin' cool. God. Shit. Fuckin' shit. Yes! Spike me. Put it in! YES! Oh shit! Give it to me. Give it to me!"

Eben gave it to him.

There was little room in the front seat with the console between the seats, and it couldn't have been comfortable, but they managed—or, rather, Eben managed to get Michael into a position where his erection could bury itself in Michael's hole and pump him hard, and Michael was flexible enough to hold the position, his arms thrown over his shoulders, with his hands gripping the rim of the door where the window had retracted down, and the heel of one foot on the dashboard and the other leg draped over Eben's shoulder, as Eben crouched over him and thrust and thrust and thrust to their first in a series of ejaculations that night.

Eben fucked him on the sofa in cramped missionary in front of the TV set that didn't get turned on and where Eben had offered a round of beers that never got delivered.

Then he fucked him on the stairs leading up to the bedroom level in a modified doggie, and then, when they finally got to the master bedroom, Eben fucked Michael a couple of more time, once with Michael on his side, legs drawn up and held together, while Eben lay across his hips crosswise and fucked him sideways. He hit all of the surfaces of the young man's passage with the bulb of his cock.

The next morning they were hunting for and finding used condoms in some very strange places.

Sitting at the kitchen island across from each other in the morning, both naked, the hands of both shaky as they cradled cups of strong black coffee and grinned at each other like school boys who had just done something very, very naughty was a lot different from how the scene had looked there the previous day over lunch. Now they each knew every intimate detail of the other's body.

"You mentioned something about needing to find a room near here before your school started," Eben said. "I have extra bedrooms here."

"I know. I think we fucked in every one of the them."

"There are two downstairs we haven't done it in yet," Eben said. "We can fix that after this infusion of coffee, though."

Michael groaned. "You're an animal. A wild animal."

"You said Brian told you I was and that that was the way you wanted it."

"It was; it is. Are you offering me a place to live?"

"It would make wild fucking a lot more convenient. And you'd be right here when something broke down. Do you know where the breaker box is, by the way?"

"Of course. It's in the garage. I think my foot banged it a couple of times while you were banging me in the car. I have no idea how we managed that."

"Good boy. You pass the house maintenance quiz."

"I don't know if I can afford the rent here, though," Michael said. "I don't want to sponge on you. But, there's some way we could take care of it in barter."

"Four fucks a week to offset the rent?"

"I don't think I could survive that. But let's go for five and see how that goes. But, no, I don't want to be a prostitute. The fucking should be free. But I didn't tell you, what I'm taking in college is accounting. I think I heard you say you are as clueless and behind the eight ball with your financial accounting as with the home maintenance. In addition to managing the house management, I could be your personal manager—I could handle your financials too. In exchange for room . . . and some board."

"Deal." God, this is turning out a whole lot better than I could ever imagine, Eben thought. The trifecta. I got it all now.

"Let's seal the deal with a fuck," Michael said. "Maybe initiate one of the downstairs bedrooms?"

"Paradise," Eben said, with a grin.

"One thing, though," Michael said.

"No reneging now. I just bought your ass."

"No, no reneging, but one thing I promised Brian I'd ask you if I scored with you—Did I score with you?"

"Yes, you most certainly scored with me, Michael."

"One other thing. Brian wonders if he could come over from time to time and we do a threesome."

Eureka! "That sounds very much like something a personal manager should be setting up for me, Michael."