Archive of Our Own ^beta

Day One.

Harold was on the phone; having ignored Mark’s snippy comment: hurry up, Harold. Now is not the time for phone calls, it's time to mingle.

“Did Ms. Groves get in touch with you?”
“Yes, Harold. I talk to Sam more than I do you!”
“Did she tell you, I expected you here.”
“You never ask me, you just expect it, Harold.”
“Wh–what?”
“I’m not leaving New York and coming to Los Angeles!”
“This week is important…”
“Listen, Harold…I–I think I should move out. I have a life too!”
“Well, if that is what you want…”
“Yes.”
“Well then, fine by me. Have a good life .”
“Fine! Goodbye, Harold.”
“Goodbye, Adam.” 

He hung up and looked out the window at the crowd below. I guess no company for the week here, oh well, he thought. He hated having to attend these things, everyone being saccharine sweet or voicing their opinions on what or which his next company merger should be. But Mark put a lot of time into making connections, so he attended whether he liked to or not. But the women! Gah! Sidling up to him, young or old, in their haute couture and flashing their jewels, married or unmarried. His reputation and his money making them conveniently ignore the fact he was almost fifty, and seen in the company of men instead of women as his companions. Like he was interested in getting caught by any of those gossiping hens, like Mark’s wife, Kara. He hated that interfering stuck-up woman, why had Mark married her, he’d never know.

Going out, and down the stairs, Samantha caught up with him. He drew her aside and whispered, “Ms. Groves,” he drew her aside and whispered, “he’s moving out. Have the place cleaned up, and sold. I want it done by Sunday, when we get back to New York.”

“Yes, Mr. Finch.”

“Thank you.” He walked down the stairs, nodding and evading anyone in his way of leaving this damn…He needed some air. Kara almost caught up with him, but he spotted her changing direction and heading for her husband, before he slipped out the door.

Kara rushed to Mark. “He’s leaving–Harold is leaving, you have…”

“It’s okay, darling. I’ll go catch him.” He gave Kara a peck, ignoring her scowling face and rushed out the door.

“Is this Mr. Snow’s car?” Harold asked one of the valets outside.

“Yes, sir.”

“Harold, where are you going?” Mark asked, catching up to his boss.

“Look at this, my–my limo is stuck back there! Give me the keys to your car, Mark.”

“What? But, Harold…”

“Keys, Mark.”

He handed the keys over. “Do you know how to drive a stick-shift? And…” But Harold was already in his Ferrari, driving away. “...you’ll get lost in the dark!” He yelled, and cringed at the sound of the grinding gears. “My brand new car!” He whined at himself.

Harold drove and drove, making turns and trying to look at signs, still trying to figure out how to shift the damn thing. Lost, he was lost. Damn it!

***

John was out on the Boulevard, he didn’t make it yesterday, so tonight he was making his rounds, and talking to the people making their living in this particular part of town. Sometimes listening to their woes, and offering them supplies from his pack, then promising to come back with more. He noticed a comotion down the street and walked over, spotting detective Carter talking to the people around her, then calling out to the uniforms to move the crowd that had gathered, back. She noticed him and walked over.

“John.”

“Detective Carter.” He motioned to the body bag visible in the alley. “What happened?”

“One of the street girls, full of needle marks.” Joss whispered.

“Damn,” said John, looking sadly towards the wrapped body on the ground.

“Huh…not wearing one of your black suits tonight?” she said, looking him up and down. “I don’t usually see you, so…undressed, John.” Taking in the ripped jeans, the black wife-beater, and scruffy military boots, she thought, Damn, for a guy in his forties, he sure has muscles. And those blue eyes! Uh-huh, Mr. Tall, Tanned, and Handsome–Sexy. Not the longhaired, bearded, dirty drunk, she had arrested and let go years ago. She pulled her mind back from those thoughts.

John smiled, watching Joss checking him out. “You hardly see me, Carter. Only when you want info…about…”

“Yeah–yeah. You…staying out of trouble?”

“Me? Get in trouble? Detective!” John said, widening his eyes in mock surprise. “I volunteer at the vet center, remember? And I was making my rounds…” he stopped and looked at Joss thoughtfully, then voiced his sudden thought. “Huh, I bet she was one of Chico’s girls. He hooks them and then…” he shrugged, “...he has a high turnover of girls.”

“You think?” Scrunching her eyebrows in thought.

“Night, Joss. Good luck…with your case.”

“Yeah, see ya…” she murmured, her eyes distant. Mulling over what John had said.

He left Joss, thinking about the hard life on the streets. That could have been him. When he got out of the Army, he went looking for Jessica, the woman he had loved. He’d seen and done things that no one should have to during the war, and he desperately wanted to return to her and plan their life together. But Jessica had gotten married when he was gone, and shortly after had died, leaving him heartbroken. The bottle had been his escape from the pain, ending homeless and alone. 

One night, then Officer Carter arrested him, but instead of jail time Joss offered help telling him to get cleaned up and go to the Veterans Center. But he hadn’t listened back then. Soon after, he met Joan at a homeless encampment, in an old warehouse. She took care of him–a woman, with abundant patience and strength–who slowly got him to stop drinking. Then he started finding odd jobs and eventually got hired as a bouncer at a club. One night, he happened to be at the right place at the right time. He met Zoe, helped her out of a sticky situation, she handed him her card and told him to come see her. She made him a highly paid, much sought after escort.

He felt too old for the job now, but had negotiated with Zoe to stay on for another year, because a couple of clients were still unwilling to move to a different escort. It was way past time though, to move on, and he wanted a new life, maybe even someone to share it with. He was ready to love again. He’d made good money and invested wisely. He still helped Joan out, volunteered at the vet center, and made it a point to visit the Boulevard a couple of times a week to help the people that made their livelihood there.

Yeah, he needed a change of life, before it was too late…He was distracted from his thoughts by a couple of girls squabbling on the street, walked over, and started talking to them. The noise of gears grinding and wheels squeaking from the stop-and-go movement of a car had all three of them stop talking and look as it inched closer to them.

“You’d ya look at that car? Wow! Money baby, money! I’m going over.” said one of the girls, walked over and knocked on the window. But after talking for a minute to the person in the car, she shrugged and came back. “He wants directions, huh!” She told them, shrugging, and walked away.

John looked at the car still jerking in increments, shook his head, and walked over. He looked at the driver through the open window and smirked. The guy was frowning at the gear stick and talking to it. Cute.

“...I know you are in there, where…is first…I…?”

“Hey there! You…need help?”

“Oh…um–yes, I’m lost.”

“Okay…”

“I’ll give you a…twenty, if you get in and give me directions to the Regency. You know where that is?”

“Yes, I do. Twenty, huh? Okay.” John smiled, well…that was a first.  When he got in and placed his pack on the floor, he frowned. The guy shouldn’t ask just anyone to get in his car out here. With his expensive car, the fancy three piece suit, an easy target for a mugger or worse…a murderer.

“Okay, which way?” Asked the guy, still trying to put the car in gear.

“You know, you shouldn’t invite strangers into your car…”

“Yes, but I don’t think you have those kinds of intentions, I think…”

“Whoa!” John interrupted, “do you know how to drive this car? Okay, stop and pull over, please. I’ll drive, before you mess up the gears, or kill us.”

“Uhh–yes.”

John waited until the guy came over, sat in the passenger seat, then closed the door for him. He got in the driver’s seat, adjusted it for his long legs, then looked over at the guy and smiled. “Buckle up. On to the Regency then.” And smoothly drove off.

Harold turned to look at the handsome man next to him. He was older than all the young things he’d spotted on the streets, but he looked clean, despite his attire. “So, what is the going rate for…your type of work, nowadays?”

John wanted to laugh at the carefully said words, then thought about having some fun with the way the conversation was going. “My rate is 400. 500 and up, if you have special requests.”

“Wh–what? Is that the going rate, for a street–ahem…is that for a night?”

“No, for an hour.” John said, smirking at the guy’s stupefied expression.

“An–an hour?” The man’s eyebrows tried to climb to his hairline.

“Yup. Well, here we are,” he said, got out and came to stand in front of the attractive man, handing him the keys.

“Yes, thank you. Here is your twenty…for…well, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, goodnight.” He smiled, stuck the twenty in his pocket, turned and walked over to the bus stop.

“Goodnight,” Harold said absentmindedly, as he stood outside the hotel's doors, still eyeing the handsome man, then slowly walked over.

“Um…what is your name, by the way?”

“John.”

“So…400?” Harold said, rubbing his lip thoughtfully.

“Yes.” 

“If you have no plans for the night, would you…come inside with me?”

John was seriously considering the offer. He was not only curious, but interested. Plus he found the man attractive. “What’s your name?” He asked, smiling.

“Harold.”

“Well, Harold…I’d love to come inside with you, but…do you think,” he motioned towards the fancy hotel, "that's the place for me? I mean, I’m not dressed…”

“You let me worry about that, John. Here, you can drape my coat over you, but I doubt it will cover very much. You are tall…muscular,” Harold said, and as the doorman opened the door for them,  he gestured for John to follow him. “Let’s go inside.”

“Sure.” Smirking, he draped the coat over him.

When they walked in, he noticed the looks from the hotel's patrons as they looked at Harold in his bespoke suit, but when they spotted him they did a double-take. He hid a smile behind his fist as he followed Harold to the front desk, and while Harold was talking to the girl at the front desk, he was looking at the guy, who looked like security, coming towards them with a frown on face.

“Evening,” The stocky guy said to Harold.

“Good evening...Mr. Fusco,” said Harold, reading the man's name tag and raising an eyebrow at the head of security of the hotel.

“You–everything okay, Mr. Finch? I see…”

“Yes–yes, Mr. Fusco. Excuse us, it’s been a long day and we're heading upstairs. Goodnight.” said Harold, grabbing John’s arm and dragging him towards the elevators.

“Yeah–sure. G’night, Mr. Finch.” He answered, frowning. He leaned against the front desk and motioned to the girl there, to lean closer, as he whispered to her. “Shaw? What do you think Mr. Coswell will say, when he finds out about that?” He asked, still looking at the two men heading for the elevators.

She shrugged and smiled. “Not much. He’ll grumble some, but Mr. Finch is in the Penthouse suite. At 5,000 a night, I don’t think he can say much, Lionel.”

“Yeah, you’re right, Sameen. Well, I’m off. I’ll see ya in the morning. Charlie is on till 9am.”

“Night, Lionel.”

***
Harold pressed his card to open the door to his suite, then motioned John to enter.

“Nice!” said John, as he looked around the expensive suite, checked out the balcony, and on his way back draped Harold’s coat on a dining room chair. Then walked over and casually leaned his hip against the desk where Harold was sitting, crossing his arms and with a smirk asked. “So, Harold…what did you have in mind?”

“I didn’t really plan for this situation. I was expecting to be here with my companion for the week, but he decided he would rather move...on. So, now an ex-companion, and you…” He said, eying the bulging muscles on the folded arms.

“Okay. Why don’t we get my…fee, out of the way, then we’ll go from there.”

“Oh, yes.” Harold opened the desk drawer, took out some money and handed it over to John.

“Thanks,” John said, tucking the bills in his back pocket, smiling at a quiet Harold.

“I usually don’t deal with cash. I use my gold card, but I don’t think you accept cards, do you, John?”

John ignored the question. “So, not planned...You like to plan things, Harold?”

“Yes, of course. My whole week here was–is planned, that’s the duration of my stay. I leave for New York on Sunday.” Harold walked over to the mini bar and poured himself a glass of wine. “Do you want one?” He asked, lifting his glass.

“No, thank you. I don’t drink much, maybe a beer now and then. I’ll take water if you have it.” 

After Harold opened the mini fridge, took out a bottle of water and handed it over, they stood looking at each other. It looked like Harold had no interest in moving things along. Well, he was getting paid by the hour for whatever the client wanted, even if it was just talking.

“John? How-how much would you charge…for the entire night?” Asked Harold, taking a sip of his wine then sat back down at his desk, shuffling papers nervously.

John was stunned. They barely started the hour Harold paid for, and now he was asking about staying the whole night? He couldn’t figure the man out. Yet, something was pulling him towards this enigmatic man, so he made his decision. He would stay and see what happened next. “2,500”.

“Well…um…”

“It would be much more, Harold, if we went by the hour. I’m giving you a break, cause I like you.” he said, grinning at a nervous Harold.

“Yes, well…done!” Said Harold, blushing. “Then, let’s relax.”

He was surprised that Harold had accepted so fast and blushed while doing so. Maybe because it was discounted, and he just wanted to get it over with, or like he said, relax and not hurry. Every second spent in Harold’s company was intriguing to him, but even more so was his own reaction to the situation and his desire to find out more about this enigmatic, attractive, and elegant man.

“Okay. Since I’m yours for the night, can I use your bathroom, take a shower…relax?”

Harold was working on his laptop and looked up in surprise, like he had forgotten John was there. “Yes, of course.”

John took his pack with him and was in the bathroom for a few minutes, when Harold walked in.

“You’re not doing drugs, are you? he asked, frowning.

“I don’t do drugs. Never did,” he said in a flat tone. “I used to drink, years ago, but not anymore.”

“Oh. I didn’t hear the shower, and–and came…what do you have in that…pack?”

“You’re…” he sighed, unzipped his pack, then tilted it so a suspicious Harold could look inside. “Condoms, a toothbrush…just hygiene products, Harold. Nothing else.” 

“I see. You’re well prepared. Sorry…I’ll just go, then.”

“Or, you could join me? We could…take a shower?” asked John, gazing at Harold, coaxing him with a seductive voice.

“Um–I’ll just wait for you in the living room,” said Harold, and closed the door.

John laughed softly, and went to take a shower. When he was done, dried off, then wrapped a dry towel around his hips, took his pack and went looking for Harold.

Sitting on the couch, Harold was not really paying attention to the TV. He was thinking about the handsome man. Dressed up, John would be stunning. Or...undressed, all muscles, tanned skin, and–and that smile of his. He was interested, very interested. He heard the bathroom door open and turned…Oh my! A Greek God was walking towards him, wrapped only in a towel, and his body reacted. He watched as John, after setting his pack down, first took a condom out of it, then grabbed a pillow off the couch and dropped it between his legs on the floor. 

John slowly sank down to his knees, ran his hands up Harold’s thighs and continued upwards till he reached Harold’s tie, loosening the knot, then letting it drape there. Next, working on the buttons of the vest and pushing it aside, he slowly unbuttoned the expensive shirt, one button at a time, then let his fingers run through the soft pelt of chest hair, teasing sensitive nipples til they were hard little nubs. Switching the direction of his hands downwards stopped at the leather belt, pulled at Harold’s hips, making him slide down the couch closer to him, and unbuckled the belt.

He slowly bent his head, looking at a panting Harold–who was watching his every move–rubbed the bulge, still trapped in its confines, with his chin, then slowly pulled the zipper down. Then with a quick move he had Harold’s silk boxers and pants down to his knees, leaving Harold exposed to his appreciative gaze. Wrapping his fingers around the hard cock, he tore the condom packet with his teeth, and rolled it on.

Harold’s eyes fluttered closed, he could feel every lick and kiss on his thighs, balls and shaft. And when those lips closed over the head of his cock, he willed himself to look down at the man, who so quickly had him in the throngs of passion, his hips rising to the rhythmic bobbing of the head over his lap. His hands clutching onto the short hair, his thrusts going deeper, as the very skillful use of that hot mouth, brought him closer and closer to the edge, faster than he wanted. Moaning softly, he felt the rush of his orgasm  spilling into the condom, wishing it was in that talented mouth that was still licking and sucking even though he was spent.

John was still hard, and panting from the vigorous blowjob he had given Harold. He hadn’t allowed himself to come, as much as his dick wanted too. You never knew what the client may still want. He drew in a few more breaths, trying to calm down, before carefully removing the condom and tying it off, stood up to dispose of it, and to get something to clean Harold off.

Harold lay where John left him, his breathing finally under control, saw John stand up, his towel tented, and was startled into saying. “You didn’t come?”

John smiled down at him. “Not yet, but the night is young, we have time. Hold on a sec, I forgot to bring something to clean up with.” When he finished cleaning Harold, he spoke up. “I wanted too, believe me, I wanted too very much. But I’m not some young thing that goes off like a rocket, I have some control, not much, but some. And like I said, the night is young.” He laughed at Harold’s raised eyebrow.

“So, what do you do, John?”

“Do? Ahh–everything, Harold. Well, just about everything. No hard core stuff. If you want that, I’m not the right…person…” he trailed off, his eyes questioning Harold. 

Harold waved a dismissive hand. “I'm not into that.” 

“Okay. Oh, and I don’t kiss on the mouth.” 

“Um…I don’t either.”

“So, what do you want, Harold?” he purred, and stifled a laugh when Harold blushed again.

“Let’s move to the bedroom, and we’ll go from there.”

Grabbing his pack, he followed Harold into the bedroom, flipped the covers back on the bed, took off his towel and leaned against the headboard. His dick–that had deflated some–came back to full hardness, as he sat watching Harold remove his mostly undone clothes, exposing all that white skin to eyes. And his left hand pushed his dick hard onto his body, he wanted–needed to come.

Harold took out a bottle of lube from the drawer, before joining John in the bed, handing it over to the aroused man waiting in his bed. “Here. You can use this, between my thighs, no anal.” And lay down on his stomach.

John reached for the towel, and Harold lifted his hips so he could spread it underneath him. His mouth watering at the picture before him. That nicely rounded ass would have been a pleasure to sink into, but the client said no anal. Remember that John, client, he thought, as Harold lay relaxed waiting for him. He rolled a condom on and straddled Harold’s thighs. Then his hands took over, exploring over skin with surprisingly sinewy muscles; Harold was more compact and a bit shorter than him. His lips and the tip of his tongue traced lazily down Harold’s spine, and when he felt the little shivers against his lips, he smiled. His hands tenderly stroked over hips, cupping the rounded butt, then up again to slip underneath, petting and pinching nipples, sliding down to a reawakening cock, but he continued stroking slowly. Here we go, almost time for round two, Harold, he thought.

He let go long enough, to pour some lube in his hands, rubbing and warming it up. He slid one under Harold again, stroking the semi-hard cock, while the other rubbed lube between lean thighs. Then he lubed his own dick, and laying on his side behind Harold, drew him close, and slid between his thighs. “You feel so good,” he murmured very softly. He was so turned on, and he wanted to let go, but moved slowly. His left hand found Harold’s dick once more, stroking until Harold’s hips started moving, seeking more. He shifted his leg over Harold’s hip, trapping his cock, and creating a tighter channel between the lean thighs, as his thrusts started getting faster. He felt himself swelling up, but slowed down again, wanting to experience this chance encounter for all it was worth.

He sped up his hand and his thrusts, when Harold started moving backwards towards his thrusts then forward into his hand. When Harold, with a soft grunt, found his release, he could finally let go. He tightened up, back arching, as he exploded. Breathing heavily he took care of the condom  and the towel under Harold, then stood on shaky legs, heading for the bathroom. He returned, after cleaning himself, but Harold was covered up and had his eyes closed. He placed a kiss on the shoulder closest to him, but the man did not move, whether really asleep or not, he ignored the slight ache in his chest and lay down.

Day Two.

Harold took his shower, dressed, then went back to the bed and stood looking down at a still sleeping John. His eyes skimmed over the wide shoulders, slim waist, and just a hint of his crack showing under the covers, down to an exposed long, tanned leg. He reached out to touch the wide shoulders–with a scar down the left side, the only thing seeming to mar the tanned skin–but pulled his hand back quickly and left the room.  He sat at his desk, checking his schedule on his laptop, then picked up the fax that had come while he was in the shower when there was a knock on the door. He let the room service waiter in and waited for him to set up the items he had ordered, on the table. He tipped the waiter, and after he left, sat down to read the fax.

John’s eyes opened, looking at Harold’s retreating back. He heard the man moving around and felt him when he stood by the bed, but pretended to be asleep. He didn’t want to leave, but all good things came to an end, so he got up, put on a robe, and went  to find Harold. 

“You should have woken me up…” he started, but was interrupted by the ringing phone.

Harold motioned him to wait and answered. “Good morning, Mark,” he smirked, then listened for a bit. “Your car is here at the hotel. Yes, I'll be there in an hour…” his face changed expressions, hardening. “Make it for tonight–dinner, and let’s get this meet-up over with.” Then he hung up.

“Good morning, John. Sleep well?”

“Like I was saying, you should have woken me up. I’ll be going in a few.”

“No need to hurry.”

“And yes, thank you, I slept well.”

“Sit down, please. Breakfast?”

“Umm…”

“Aren’t you hungry? I am,” he said, and started on his eggs benedict.

“All right, thanks.” 

“I ordered quite a few dishes, have whatever you wish.”

“Did you sleep, Harold?” asked John, choosing the scrambled eggs.

“A bit. Then got up and worked for a while, showered, etc, etc.”

“A bit…so, what kind of business are you in?”

“I am in mergers and acquisitions,” he said, and when John didn’t ask for an explanation, his estimation of the man went up.

“Do you keep them or resell them?”

“Sometimes. It depends on the needs of my own companies, versus profit.” 

“But, you’ll make more money if you flip them. Very smart, Harold.”

Harold was even more impressed with John. He understood…huh, smart and handsome, he thought. “I’m here this week, to acquire…a very large company.”

“Well then, good luck in your…acquisition.”

“Thank you. It’s been a long, arduous project.”

“I see.”

“I’m getting ready to meet with my executive team to go over last minute details…soon,” he said, looking at his watch.

That was his cue to leave. He wiped his mouth and stood up. He approached Harold, tweaked his tie like he was fixing it, backed up, and stuck his hands in pockets of the robe he had put on instead of getting dressed. Time to move on, John. Keep your hands to yourself.

“Can I use the shower before I leave?” He asked, smiling, even though he didn’t feel like smiling.

“Yes, of course.”

Harold stood there for a minute. He walked over and watched John, from the open door, taking his shower, then walked back out, thinking. He was going to be here for a while, what harm in discovering…and John…was gorgeous. He made love with a… um-no, not love, it was…sex. Yes, sex with him would be exciting and fulfilling, if last night was any indication. John took his time and had him come for a second time. Alex had never bothered, when they were done he just rolled over and went to sleep, while he went back to his work.

John came out wearing the same clothes he had on when he picked him up, his pack slung over his shoulder, and he decided right then and there, before John had a chance to say goodbye. “John, I have a proposition for you.”

“Another one?” John joked.

“I would like you to spend the rest of my stay here with me.”

“Huh?” His mind went blank.

“Of course, I will pay you for your time…”

“Harold, wait,” he couldn’t think straight. “Wait a minute. You’re rich, you can find anyone… and for free. You don’t have to pay…” Startled by Harold’s request, he was trying to delay, and settle the fast beating of his heart at the prospect of spending more time with Harold.

“No–no,” Harold interrupted. “I want a professional. I just ended an…entanglement. I thought...no, I’m done with those.”

“Okay…but, have you thought about the cost?” A professional, no entanglements, check, thought John.

“Of course I did, John,” Harold said. “Managing costs is definitely one of my areas of expertise.”

“We’re talking about 24/7, Harold. That’s a lot of money.” John hedged again.

“How-much-John?” Harold insisted.

“25,000” he said quickly, sure that the amount would put Harold off.

“No,” said Harold, frowning.

“I’m only charging less than half of what it would be by the hour,” he explained, pushing slightly. What are you doing, John, he thought.

“10,000” Answered Harold, but was starting to smile.

“20,000.” Was John’s fast answer back. Folding his arms and standing straight, like he wasn’t ready to cave in. He would have done it for ten, but he was having fun, and it looked like so was Harold. And he wanted to stay, damn it.

“18,000. Are we done, now?”  Said Harold, eyebrows raised. 

John smirked. “Yes, Harold. Done. 18,000.”

Harold walked over to the desk then came back and handed John some money. “Here. Go buy yourself some clothes, I have that appointment, so I’ll be gone most of the day…”

“What kind of clothes should I buy?” John interrupted.

“Rent a tux, get a couple of suits, for now. We’re going out to dinner tonight, 7 o’clock, tie required. Oh, and something for Wednesday, we’re going to the Country Club.”

“Okay.”

“Well then…I’ll see you tonight.”

“Sure. Bye, Harold.”

When Harold left, John stood thinking about the turn of events. He thought he was leaving and then Harold dropped that bombshell of spending the rest of the week with him, negotiating, and…his heart fluttered. Watch it, John. It's only been a night, you can’t let…he’s a c-l-i-e-n-t! Right, first order of business: get clothes; no, he’ll keep, huh 3000…okay, a down payment then; he’d go get his own clothes. Then first, go see Joan…“Ugg! Just go John.” Shit, now he was talking to himself. Shaking his head he grabbed his pack and went out the door.

***
He grabbed a taxi outside the hotel and headed for Joan. The driver told him he wasn’t waiting around, so he let him go. He found Joan and handed her some money. Running back and forth, involved in helping her get food and anything else needed for the encampment at the old warehouse, hours had passed before he noticed. 

“I have to leave, Joan. I have quite a few things to do before I meet…” he stopped. Joan knew what he did, but they didn’t talk about it.

“Yeah, okay. I hope you're looking after yourself, John,” she said, continuing to sort her stuff, not looking at John standing next to her. It still brought tears in her eyes, thinking at what a good, big-hearted man he was. John never forgot about her or the rest of them, which he could have easily done once he got out of the streets.

John smiled softly. “For now, I have you, Joan.” Someday, maybe he'll get lucky, and have a fairy tale life of being in a loving relationship. Yeah, right. Dream on, John. Fairy tales are not real, he thought, amused at his thoughts.

She gave him a push. “Hah! Well, go on now, off with you.” 

He took out his cell phone to call for a taxi, but the line was busy, and he had to walk several blocks before he could flag one down. After giving the driver his address, they got stuck in traffic, and it took forty minutes before reaching his building. 

He lucked out when he found the two-bedroom apartment, in the older, but very well maintained building. Most of the tenants were white-collar workers, so it was quiet during the day, perfect for someone like him since he worked mostly nights.The building super, Trask, took great care of the place but was a character and popped up when you least expected him to. Ernie, was a very talkative guy too, even when he was tending the garden of roses in the front of the building, he talked. You learned all kinds of things from spending a few minutes listening to Ernie, and it amused him to listen to his stories.

He stopped and picked up the mail from his box, before he unlocked his door and stepped in the quiet, sparsely furnished apartment. The only things in the living room were two large leather recliners, a table with a lamp on it between them, all facing a big TV. And on the opposite wall hung a large poster of an old film, Seven Samurai by Akira Kurosawa. He hardly had anyone over, so he didn’t need any more furniture. He cooked and ate at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, so no need for a dining table either. He walked into his bedroom–and like the rest of the apartment it was sparsely furnished–a large dresser under the window, and his pride and joy, the big bed. He was a big guy; that bed was heaven to sleep in. 

He opened the closet, opposite the bed, and looked through his suits. He had quite a few, along with a bunch of shirts in different colors. He picked out two Armani suits, one black and the other a dark gray. He added a couple of shirts, as he put them in the suit bags and zipped them up. He grabbed his tux, already in its bag and laid it on the bed with the other bags. Then, he went to the other bedroom, only a bookcase filled with books and a small desk was in this room and he used the closet for his more casual suits and clothes. He opened it, chose a pair of dark gray pants and another pair in light gray wool, along with a few shirts to go with them. These all went in a small suitcase, and tossed in all the rest of his necessities– shoes, ties, underwear, socks and toiletries, his wallet, keys and some of the stuff from his pack. Satisfied with his choices, went to the kitchen to make his phone calls.

He called the Veterans Center to tell them he wouldn’t be volunteering this week, and spent a few minutes explaining to Carl–an older vet he hung out with, and had a beer with now and then–that nothing was wrong, just some business he had to take care of in town. Next was Zoe. Time to finalize things between them.

“Zoe.”
“John.” 
He sighed, slightly irritated at the silence on the other side of the phone. “I need you to cancel my appointments on Friday and Saturday.”
“Am I cancelling them permanently?”
“Yes.”
“So, you finally made up your mind.”
“I’m forty-two, Zoe! We’ve talked about this before.”
“We did.”
“Don’t you think…Zoe, it’s way past time for me to get out of the business.”
“I’ll cancel your contract and send you a copy.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ll see you around, John.”
“Bye, Zoe.”

Well, that was fun–not. With that part of his life now over, he didn’t have a job anymore…well, there was Harold. He rubbed his forehead and sat there thinking. Solve the rest of your life later, John, he chided himself, then noticed the time, and started cursing. “Crap! Almost…damn, no time to change.” After calling for a taxi, he rushed to grab his things, and remembered his black wool coat at the last second, then hurried out of the apartment. 

***
Mr. Coswell came out of his office and stopped at the front desk to check with Ms. Shaw on a reservation issue. But a tall man in torn jeans with a black…tank top, and carrying suit bags diverted his attention. He was an odd sight entering his hotel. 

Intrigued, he stepped in front of the…gentleman. “Excuse me, may I help you?”

John smirked, thinking, Oh, here we go, this is what you get for not changing, I should have at least put my coat on. You’re not thinking, John, your head is in the clouds. He flashed a quick grin at the hotel manager. “I’m going upstairs.”

 Eyebrow raised, he asked. “Do you have a key?”

“Damn, Harold gave me one, I knew I forgot something when I left this morning!”

“So, you are…a guest?” the manager asked, confused.

 John smirked again. “I’m here with…a friend.”

“And who is that?”

“I just told you. Harold. We came in last night, ask your head of security, he saw us.”

“Please, come into my office, while I call Mr. Fusco.” Motioning for the gentleman to follow him.

John laid his suit bags and coat on the leather couch, waiting while the manager called his head of security.

“Mr. Fusco, would you come to my office, please? Thank you.”

It only took Fusco a couple of minutes to arrive. He knocked on the door, entered and   did a double-take when he saw the tall man in the office with his manager.

“Hey, we meet again. Mr. Tall, dark and…”

But the manager interrupted him. “ You know this gentleman?”

“I saw him last night, Mr. Coswel.” He leaned closer to the manager. “He came with…Mr. Finch. Just as I was…”

“Very well, that will be all, Mr. Fusco. Thank you for coming.”

“Yes, sir.” As he was leaving he looked over at the tall man full of curiosity, but shrugged, and closed the door behind him.

“You see? Harold Finch. Are we done?” John asked, arms crossed, looking at the hotel manager, who’s eyes were fixed on him full of curiosity.

“What is your name, please?”

“John.” 

“John…thank you. If I could have one more minute of your time? Please, sit down.”

“Okay. Thank you.” 

“Mr. Finch, is a special guest, and we accomodate his…” He paused, his tone delicate and questioning, “...business associates?” 

John got it. “Yes, we have some…business to take care of.”

 Mr. Codwell nodded. “And…” Then asked again in the same questioning, delicate tone,“...how long will you be with us, John?”

“About a week?” he answered, eyes gleaming.

“I see,” he said, in a nonchalant tone of voice, and waved a hand to encompass his hotel. “And when Mr. Finch leaves, you have no further…business to take care of here, correct?” 

This time John actually smiled at the hotel manager. “Yes.” He wouldn’t have any of this kind of business, anywhere, after this week.

“I see. Well,” he smiled back at the man, who looked even more handsome when he smiled. “...John, please dress appropriately while you are at our hotel?”

John looked at Mr. Coswell thoughtfully. Wanting to avoid any further issues, walked over to one of his suit bags, unzipped it, and let the manager look at the suit inside.

Mr. Coswell looked, then touched the lapel gently. “Very nice…John.” He looked back at the tall man standing at ease in his office, his curiosity piqued once again.

“Will you please, have someone let me in the penthouse…since I forgot my key?” he asked softly, zipping the bag closed.

“I’d be happy to do so myself. If you please,” he motioned for John to proceed after he opened the door.

“Thanks.”

Outside the office, he motioned to one of the porters. “Thomas, please help our guest with his luggage.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Coswell!” 

 John hesitated. “I can–”

 Mr. Coswell smiled warmly. “Please, we pride ourselves on our service here at the Regency.”

“Very well, thank you, Mr. Coswell.” he said, with a slight nod.

When they reached the top floor and the manager opened the door, John stepped in, and sure enough, the key card was on the table. He waved it at Coswell. “Yep, here it is, right where I left it.” He tipped the bellhop, and the manager reached to close the door.

“Enjoy your stay with us, John,” he said, closed the door, then stood outside it for a minute, smiling. “It’s going to be an interesting week watching these two.” He said to himself, then walked off.

***
John hurried with his shower, dried his hair, and dressed in his black suit and white shirt. He frowned as he put on the tie, he didn’t like them, but had to wear them most of the time. He was buttoning his jacket, ready to leave, when the phone rang and he picked up.

“I’m in the lobby. Where are you?”
“Leaving the room now, Harold.”
“Okay.”

“Excuse me, do I have any messages?” Harold asked, when he hung up the phone.

“Yes, one, Mr. Finch.” Ms. Shaw said, handing it over. The manager, standing next to her, perked up on hearing the name ‘Mr. Finch’, and went around the front desk. They both spotted the very well-dressed gentleman approaching them. While she was assessing the gorgeous man, Mr. Coswell’s mouth hung open slightly before looking away, trying to hide a smile.

“Mr. Finch,” Coswell interrupted his guest reading his message. “I believe your guest is here.”

“My guest? What–where?”

“Yes, sir. Right behind you.”

Harold turned around, his eyes widening in surprise. He thought maybe he should  clean his glasses. He stared for a moment, before letting his gaze trail over the tall man, from his dark hair with silver at the temples, to the crisp white shirt paired with a black and silver striped tie, over the perfectly cut black suit, and ending at the black polished shoes. Then his gaze moved back up to the man’s blue eyes, looking at him with amusement, down to his mouth which held a sexy half-smile. At that moment Harold wanted to kiss those lips. He shook himself out of the thought, and closed the distance between them, meeting John halfway. He knew John would look gorgeous, all dressed up, and was pleased to be proven right.

Mr. Coswell smiled, then cleared his throat, breaking the intimate moment between the two men. “Gentlemen, you’re heading out to dinner?”

“Yes,” answered Harold, not really interested in what the manager was saying, he was still looking at the gorgeous man he was going out to dinner with. “Let's go, John.”

The limo driver opened the door, and John let Harold get in first before following. They sat quietly for a few minutes, then Harold turned to look at John once more before he spoke. “You look very dashing, John.”

“Thank you, Harold!” John replied. “You look quite dapper yourself.”

“Armani...huh. How did you manage that, with the amount…” he asked, eyeing the suit again.

“I have my ways,” John replied, amused. “And I brought more clothes.”

“Well, if the rest look like this one, you’ll do…yes, you'll do very nicely,” said Harold, smiling.

“I’m glad you approve, Harold,” he said, laughing.

Harold leaned closer and whispered, “I’m sorry, I never asked for your last name. For introductions at dinner,” he clarified.

John turned, bringing him within kissing distance from Harold. He looked at Harold for a second, taking in the startled eyes and parted lips. He quickly rethought of doing what he wanted to do, wishing things were different between them. “Reese.” he whispered back. 

Warm breath floating against his lips, Harold felt his heart pounding and his body reacting. No–no time for this, we're going to dinner…later, much later. He moved away and looked straight ahead. “We’re meeting with Arthur Claypool and his grandson Eric. They’re almost at the point where their company will be…a competitor, with mine and my partner's company. I’m still upset at my partner, Nathan, for missing the deadline for the military contract–probably because of one of his damn conquests–that man destroyed his marriage by chasing women!” His lips pinched in disapproval.

John tried to distract Harold by asking, “So, are you after the contract, or the whole company?”

“The contract.” Startled with John's intuitiveness, turned, looking assessingly at his companion, before he continued. “The rest of the company can be divided and sold. They over extended themselves financially. That's why my executive team and I have been working to acquire their company.”

“Well, this will be an interesting evening,” said John, thoughtfully.

***
Inside the opulent restaurant, they were shown to the table where two men, one white-haired older man and a younger blond-haired one were talking, while waiting for them to arrive. 

“Good evening, Mr. Claypool,” said Harold, arriving at the table and startling the older man, but stood up and shook hands.

“Yes, Mr. Finch. I’m Arthur Claypool, and this is my grandson Eric. He is just out of the Army and the best right hand anyone could ask for,” the older man said proudly, smiling and patting his grandson’s shoulder.

Harold shook hands with the younger man. “This is a friend of mine, John Reese,” he motioned towards his companion.

Arthur and Eric Claypool shook hands with John. “Mr. Reese.”

“Please sit, Mr. Finch,” the older man invited Harold to the chair next to him. And John was surprised when Eric smiled at him–when he had given Harold such a hard look–as he sat next to the younger man. 

Harold leaned over and asked in a low tone, “Do you want me to order for you?”

“Thank you. You know this place better than I do. No wine for me, just water, please.”

They started their meal, but halfway through Eric, who’d been staring at Harold, finally decided to break the tense silence that hung over their table. “I need to ask you something, Mr. Finch,” he said in a low, intense voice.

“Yes, Eric?” Harold replied, calmly, still eating.

“Mr. Finch. You’ve been after my grandfather’s company for a while now, and have control over a third of our stock, if you…were to somehow gain control–which I doubt you will–what do you plan to do?”

Harold swallowed a bite of his filet-mignon before answering. “Well, Eric. I plan to break it up and sell off the pieces.” 

“I’m not thrilled with the idea of you doing that, Mr. Finch,” added Mr. Claypool with a cold stare directed at Harold.

Harold and Mr. Claypool continued their intense conversation throughout dinner. Eric glared across the table at Harold, clearly ready to jump back into the conversation, and defend his grandfather. 

John turned towards Eric, intending to distract him from the two men talking across from them.“So, you just came out of the Army?” he asked.

Eric’s face softened a bit, and he gave John a small smile. “Yes, eight months now. I was in Germany ready to ship to Afghanistan, but my grandfather…well, I needed to be here more than…” He trailed off, his expression turning thoughtful.

“I understand. I spent a lot of time over there, when I was with the Rangers. And when 9/11 happened, I re-enlisted and they transferred me to Delta.” he said, a shadow deepening the color of his blue eyes.

Eric’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, a look of awe and respect crossing his face. “Rangers, Delta…Wow, tha–that’s pretty elite.”

John shrugged. “I was injured when my unit…um–they had to sent me back to the States. Since I was back here, I decided it was time for me to leave the Army. It’s definitely better you’re home, Eric, than over there, whatever the circumstances.” he said softly, unaware that the other men at their table had stopped their own conversation.  

Harold, who had been listening in on their conversation, was looking at John with a mix of surprise and admiration. “Delta? Very impressive. I didn’t know you had that kind of background, John.”  

“Sorry, I don’t talk about my time…with Delta,”John replied. “And...well I can’t…everything is classified.”

Arthur turned towards Harold. “Well, It seems that we can’t get anything settled between us,” he said, clearly exasperated.

“It’s okay, grandfather,” said Eric. “When that contract comes…” Patting his grandfather’s shoulder, trying to calm him some.

“The contract is buried in Appropriations…” started Harold, but was interrupted by the thunderous-looking young man.

“How the hell, did you…” Eric ground out , but his voice rose with every word.

“It’s what happens, with government and military contracts,” said Harold, shrugging.

“Calm down, Eric,” Mr. Claypool said, squeezing his grandson’s hand. His turn to calm his very angry grandson.

“I’ve had enough of this,” Eric said. “Sorry, grandfather. John, it was great to meet you. Enjoy the rest of your dinner, Mr. Finch.” He stood up and said, “Excuse me,” before leaving.

Mr. Claypool dropped his napkin on the table and stood up too. “Yes, I think I’ll join my grandson,” he said, nodding towards the door. “Good night.”

Harold and John stood up and said, “good night,” but Claypool was already gone.

***
Back at their hotel room, John took off his tie right away and opened a couple of buttons on his shirt. Harold was sitting at the desk, tapping his fingers, deep in thought.

“So, you own his–their stock, you want the company, and he–they are not willing to let it go.” John said gently.

“Huh! That’s a…short version,” Harold said, as he sighed, took off his glasses, and rubbed his eyes.

“I think–I think you like Mr. Claypool, Harold.”

“I knew him way back when Nathan and I attended MIT, and he was teaching there. We used to have some interesting discussions, the three of us. When I was finishing at MIT, I heard his son and daughter-in-law had been killed in an accident, and he moved to the West coast, apparently to take care of his grandson. Nathan and I stayed on the East coast and started our own company. Haven’t talked to him since. I thought he had retired,” Harold said offhandedly.

 John prodded, “And?”

“And, John, it doesn't matter if I like him or not. In business–I invest money to make money–I don’t invest in emotions.”

“I know how that works. Don’t get involved with…clients…no kissing, too personal.” He tried not to think about what he and Harold just talked about, or Harold’s business either. His business was…sex, not talking. 

He took off his jacket and laid it on the arm of the couch, and started on his shirt, undoing one button at a time as he worked his way down, stroking his chest, stopping at his belt. Kicking off his shoes and socks, he kept his eyes on Harold, who was still sitting at his desk and looking at him intently. The lust was visible in Harold’s eyes, even behind the glasses, and his body started responding to that look . He had just unbuckled his belt and started on the zipper, when Harold came over and stopped him. He replaced his hand with one of his own, feeling his hardness. He moaned softly, his dick swelling even more, as he pushed against the exploring hand.

“You are…big, everywhere…huh, John?” Harold said, in a breathless voice, rubbing over the ever-growing cock under his hand, while with his other played with the short hair at John’s nape, slowly drawing the gorgeous man’s head down, close to his own. “I felt it last night, and I want to feel…do you want…to do me, John?” he asked, and almost kissed John on the lips, but drew back at the last second.

Through half-lidded eyes he looked at Harold. Part of him was surprised–he had expected that it would be the other way around–but the other part of him was excited that he would have the chance to be in that ass, as he had wanted to do last night. “Yes…” he breathed against Harold’s lips. 

“Let’s move this to the bedroom,” said Harold, undoing his tie and unbuttoning his vest on the way there.

They made fast work of the rest of their clothes. John made sure to grab the condom out of his pants pocket and the lube from the drawer, before crawling up the bed to a naked Harold laying there waiting for him.

Stroking and licking his way up, bypassing Harold’s leaking erection, nipping at a hip, sticking the tip of his tongue in a belly button, upwards to hardened nipples on a heaving chest, to the sweet hollow where a shoulder met the soft neck, leaving sucking kisses, till he reached an earlobe, tugged it gently with his teeth, and whispered. “How do you want me to lo–do you, Harold?”  He murmured. Shit, almost said…love you, he thought and acted quickly, letting his body lower down, writhing against the other man, their cocks rubbing, hopefully distracting Harold from what he almost said.

John’s hands and lips, breath hot against his temple and the strong body moving above him, had him panting with desire. His brain did not register what was being asked. “Wh–what…” and John must have asked again. “Yes…this way…face to face,” he managed to answer this time. 

A knee between his thighs, had him spreading his legs, as gentle insistent fingers were probing and he felt the wetness against his already twitching hole. He wanted those long fingers inside him, opening him up. A tight fist stroking his hardness was distracting him from the slight discomfort of those fingers moving inside him, getting him ready. He arched upwards into the fist, stroking him slowly, then downwards on those exploring fingers. A soft cry escaped his lips when they found the spot inside him rubbing over and over, leaving him quivering. “Now…now…” he sobbed.

John was watching, waiting until he was sure Harold was ready. When he heard Harold’s words, he withdrew his fingers and with shaky hands rolled on the condom and lubed himself up. His hands gripped Harold’s cheeks holding him open, pulling him closer as he pushed forward and slowly sunk in. The hot tightness around him drew a moan from his lips. Oh, god...perfect. He knew he would lose control soon and he started moving. Long strokes, almost all the way out before sinking back in, deep, then circling his hips, deliberately drawing out each sensation.

Harold was lost in pleasure, the long, thick rod inside him plunging to the hilt only to withdraw, was driving him crazy. And his dick was so hard, a stroke of a hand on it and he’d come. He wants to come, moaning for John to fuck him harder, arching to meet the out of control trusts, craving the oncoming feeling. When a strong hand finally takes hold of his penis and begins to stroke it vigorously, he’s at the peak and falling hard. As he lay panting, yielding to the strong thrusts of the body above him, gleaming with sweat, and looking at the handsome face twisted in ecstasy, he was begging breathlessly, “...come, John…come.” He could feel John’s orgasm building.

Harold's murmurs amazingly turned him on, as was the body arching against him. He started stroking faster at Harold's dick, and it soon jerked hard in his hand, cum spurting over his hand and Harold’s belly. But when he felt that tight channel spasming around him, he lost it. His breath was coming out in rapid bursts, keeping the same rhythm as his hips, the same as the words coming out of his lips, too soft to be heard by the other man. And something…says that it’s okay to let go now, to feel the rhythmic pulsing of his dick, as spurt after spurt of cum is shooting inside Harold.

Bracing his arms on the bed thankfully kept him from falling limply on Harold after his explosive orgasm. Gentle hands ran up and down his arms, soothing his racing heart and gasping breath. He looked up at Harold, gazing tenderly at him, and forgetting that he wasn’t supposed to, he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on Harold’s lips. When suddenly realizing what he’d done, pulled back and started apologizing.

“Sorry. I lost track of myself for a second there,” he said, with a wry smile. “I got swept up in the moment.” He busied himself with withdrawing from Harold slowly, holding on to the condom and tying it off, then got out of the bed. 

“John…” said Harold, softly, waiting until he had the man’s attention. “It’s all right, John. And thank you for a very enjoyable evening.” He added with a smile.

“You weren’t the only one that had a very…enjoyable evening, Harold," said John, smiling back, his heart settling down. He had thought that Harold may get mad, or worse, kick him out. “Be right back, with something to clean you up.”

When he returned, Harold was asleep. He cleaned him up quickly with the warm cloth, dropped it on the floor, and climbed into bed covering them both. He was still looking at a sleeping Harold when he fell into exhausted sleep, but woke up in the morning cuddling the still sleeping man.

Day Three.

Their day started early, but after the very enjoyable bout of frottage in the shower and soft touches while they were dressing, had them rushing out the door on their way to the Country Club. Still talking and laughing as they walked through the lobby of the hotel, they missed the admiring looks directed at them and the fond look of the hotel manager as he watched at the happy faces of the two well-dressed men, walking out the door and into the limo waiting for them.

When they arrived at the Country Club, the pollo match was over and they walked towards the tents serving delicacies and champagne to the dispersing crowd. John started looking around the ritzy crowd worrying if he might meet any of his past clients, and turned to Harold to voice his concern.

“Harold, I’m a little worried about being here,” he started, bending to whisper at Harold.

“What? Why?” said Harold, surprised at John’s statement.

“What if someone recognises me?” he said, urgently.

“John, none of these people go to the Boulevard to…” Harold said, offhandedly, preoccupied with looking around.

“No, Harold,” he interrupted, and took hold of Harold’s arm, making him turn around and face him. “You don’t understand, I’ve been around some of these…”

“John! John–stop worrying, and have a good time. I'm looking for…oh, there is Mark. Come along and I’ll introduce you.” And started walking towards the couple he spotted, expecting John to follow him, putting John’s worry and conversation out his mind, intent on finding and talking with the Senator afterwards.

“Harold!” called Mark, spotting his boss coming towards him.

“Mark, I want you to meet a friend of mine, John Reese,” he said, as they shook hands.

“Hello. Mark Snow,” he said, shaking hands, and turned to the woman standing next to him. “John, this is my wife, Kara.”

“Pleasure,” she said aloofly, shook hands, and eyeing the tall man infront of her. “A…new friend…Harold?”

Harold hated her look of superiority and snooty tone, and didn’t answer her, but turned to her husband. “Have you spotted the Senator, Mark?”

“Why, yes. But, I didn’t expect him to be here…”

“I invited him,” said Harold, nodding sedately.

“That’s what I like about you, Harold, always a step ahead. Let me get you both some drinks,” he said, smiling, heading towards one of the tents. His wife left the two men standing before her when no one said anything further.

“Huh. Interesting…couple.”John said, slightly sarcastically. “Who are they?” 

“He’s my lawyer. A good guy, but his wife…” said Harold, his face full of displeasure. “I can’t stand that woman. I don’t understand why Mark married her.”

“Yeah, I’ve met people like her before. “ John looked at the people around them, then turned back to look at Harold. “So, you like having a circle of…friends like these, Harold?”

“Why are you asking?” Harold asked, looking at John thoughtfully

“If these are…friends, I hate to see your enemies, Harold.” John smirked, and they both laughed.

Mark approached them with champagne flutes in his hands and offered them with a surprised look on his face. He rarely heard Harold laugh nowadays. 

“Mark, there is the Senator, I’m going to go talk to him for a moment. John, feel free to look around, I’ll return shortly.” He said, patting John’s arm, and hurring away.

“Okay, Harold. Well, John, nice to meet you. I’m going to look for my wife. Enjoy your…walk,” Mark said, as he hurried away.

“Thank you.” He sighed. Yeah, like I want to…mingle around here, he thought, eyed his glass of champagne, and took a tiny sip. He walked a few steps, leaned against a tree and gazed at the polo players–some of them still holding the reins of their horses–being congratulated by the guests on their win. He was spotted by Eric, who waved and handing over the reins of his horse to a stablehand, walked over to him smiling.

“Hello again, John,” said Eric, as he reached him.

“Eric,” he said, smiling back at the younger man. “I guess congratulations are in order, on your win.” Saluting, a laughing Eric, with his glass.

Mark, having found Kara, spotted John talking and smiling with Mr. Claypool’s grandson and turned to say something to his wife. Seeing the calculating look on her face, as she too spotted the two men talking, drew her away. “Kara, don’t start anything. And please, watch what you say to Harold.”

“Yeah–yeah. I’m going to go talk to Caroline,” she said, waving off at her husband dismissively and walking away .

Mark, worried about what he saw, decided to go looking for his boss. He found him as he was walking away from the Senator. “Harold!”

Harold stopped and waited until Mark reached him. “I just finished thanking the Senator, for…”

“Yes–yes, we can talk about that later, with the team.” He wanted to put this delicately, he didn’t usually get involved in his boss’s private life. “Harold, about John, how–how did you meet him?”

“I was asking for directions and…” said Harold, smiling and thinking about that night, “...he helped me out. Why are you asking?” He asked, looking at his lawyer.

“Well, you have been a bit…preoccupied, these days, and I’m thinking maybe John is the cause. I spotted him talking to Eric Claypool,” he said, motioning behind them, where John was still talking with a smiling Eric.

Harold looked where Mark was pointing. “Oh, he met him at the dinner the other night,” said Harold, frowning, then turned back to Mark.

“Okay. So…he’s with you, and talking to someone whose company we’re trying to buy,” Mark said, agitated. “Don’t you think it’s a little strange…that…maybe he’s giving them information, and...”

“Mark–Mark! He’s not a spy! He's a…hooker,” said Harold, wondering if he should laugh at Mark, for suggesting John was a plant meant to gather information from him.

“Wh–what?” said Mark, astonished at what Harold had just said.

“A hooker. I picked him up, on the Boulevard, in your car!” A laugh behind them startled Harold, he turned and came face to face with Mark’s wife.

“My–my!” said Kara. “Did you go looking for a…bargain on the street, for a rent…boy?” And she started laughing again.

“Damn!” He ground out, and turned to Mark. “You better get your wife away from me,”  and lips curling in distaste, finished. “Now!”

“Kara–honey, let’s go and talk to Caroline. I see her husband is with her, with some other people.” Mark said, and pulled–his still laughing wife–away from his very upset boss.

John was waiting for Harold to return, when Mrs. Snow suddenly appeared out of nowhere, next to him. He tensed, waiting for her to speak.

“Having fun, looking around the Country Club, John?” she asked, standing very close.

“Yes.”

“Well, better…clientele here, than the Boulevard, huh?” she said, smirking up at him.

 “Excuse me?” He said looking at her, unfazed at her words. But inside, anger started simmering.

“Harold told us about his new…rent-boy. So, do you have a number? I might be, oh, interested in getting together sometime,” she said, running her hand up and down his arm.

He pulled away from her hand and kept his face impassive. “ I’m not looking for…new clientele, Mrs. Snow. If you’ll excuse me.” He left her there, not bothering to look back, or think about her smirking face. No, he was wondering why Harold would reveal he hired a…rent-boy? Huh! What a word to apply to me. That’s what I am-was, in a way, but…boy? That word fits those twinks out there, he thought.

He hardly spoke to Harold in the limo on the way back to the hotel, answering in monosyllables. He was still thinking about what made Harold say what he did, especially in front of that bitch. But his anger had burned out now. He was feeling hurt, which started him wondering how his feelings got so involved in such a short period of time being with Harold.

Harold followed John into the room, closing the door behind him. He spent some time looking at the handsome man, while undoing his tie. John stood ramrod straight, staring out the terrace doors towards the bright city lights. Harold wondered what was going on with John, because the face in the reflection of the glass doors revealed nothing.

“John, what is the matter?”

“Nothing.”

“Okay, another single word. I’m tired of this kind of conversation, John.”

“Yeah, okay, Harold. Let’s have a conversation.” He turned to face Harold, taking his tie off and undoing the top two buttons of his shirt. Damn tie was choking him.

“Finally!” Exclaimed Harold, sitting on the bed and slowly undressing.

“If you were going to reveal, I’m a–a rent-boy…” he practically spat the word, and took a deep breath to calm himself, “...why take me with you? I could have stayed here, naked, and waiting for you.”

“I said, hooker. I didn’t want to do it, but Mark saw you with Eric and thought you were a spy…” Harold stopped talking, thinking about what was just said, opened his mouth to continue, but John was talking.

“I see. So instead of a spy, she calls me a rent-boy. Do I look like boy to you?” He stopped his rant and stared at Harold in surprise. “Hoo–hooker?” He rubbed his face. Okay, which is worse, her calling me a rent-boy, or Harold calling me a hooker? But you are John, you are, he thought, and the hurt was back again.

“Well, you are.” Harold said in a defensive tone, forgetting what he was going to say before. “And I refuse to fight about this.”

“You–I…want my money, then I’ll be leaving.” He said quietly.

Harold looked at John, but nothing else was said, so he walked over to the small safe in the living room, opened it, took out a bundle of cash, and returned to the bedroom. John, holding his things, was ready to leave. Harold placed the money on the bed, and they both stood looking at it for a minute. With his back to John, he waited until the man started for the door, then looked back into the room. The money was still sitting on the bed. Harold turned and rushed after John, grabbed his arm just as the door was opening, stopping him from leaving.

“I’m sorry, John. I wasn’t prepared…for questions.” He was speaking in a low voice, but at least John hadn’t left and seemed to by listening. “I saw you talking, and smiling with Eric. I–I didn’t like it.”

“We were just talking about the game. I wasn’t drumming up business, Harold. And being called those…names is unpleasant–hurtful, even if you don’t not think so.”

“I’m sorry. Please…stay,” said Harold, looking deeply remorseful and apologetic.

John looked thoughtful, sighed, and closed the door. “Yeah, okay. I’ll stay, but don’t do that again, or at least warn me please, so I can disappear.” He walked back into the bedroom, and while hanging up his clothes again, he let out a mocking laugh. “Well, it won’t matter anymore, anyway. I’m out of the business. You’re my…” he thought about saying, ‘my last trick’, but changed his mind, not wanting to be crude and add more hurt feelings into this–this conversation.“...last client.”

Eyes wide, a gasp of surprise escaped Harold’s open mouth. “What?” 

“Harold,” he said, in a strained voice. “I’m forty-two, and yes, I’m an escort. A highly paid escort, Harold.” He took out his wallet and took out a black and gold business card, handing it over. “That is–was, my agent's card, with my name on it.”

Harold took the expensive looking card and read the fancy script: 
Zoe Morgan, Agent 
    310-555-$$$$ 
      John Reese

“You–you’re one of Ms. Morgan’s…escorts?” Harold stuttered, eyebrows raised, and astonished once again. If he had gone through her, for John’s services…Yes, he knew about her and her very high standards in both escorts and clientele. Escorts with their…exorbitant fees, and those fees escalated for more…complex services. And she always had information–good information–for the right price.  

“Was. That night, when you got lost, was my last night working for her. I told her a year ago but she talked me into staying for a couple of clients. It was by chance you found me on the Boulevard. I was down there helping out some…friends, but it wasn't the night I usually visit them. God, that–that woman! Calling me a rent-boy! And on top of that, she had the gall…to ask for my services!”

“Oh yes, Kara. She heard us, if it was just Mark, none of this would have happened. Still, I’m sorry I even told him.” He grimaced in sympathy at his lawyer’s plight. “I feel sorry for him, Kara is a total bitch. Thankfully they don’t have any children.” 

He looked with newfound appreciation at this contradictory man. “Very few people surprise me, and you do, John. You’re not just handsome, but intelligent, military, know how to dress, and now this. What else will I discover about you, John?” He asked, in a low voice, reaching out and pulling the gorgeous man between his open legs.

“Anything…you want, Harold. Just ask,” he answered, in a sultry voice, eyes roaming over the body in front of him.

“Then come, kiss me, and…” he never finished. Devouring lips locked over his, a warm, demanding tongue exploring, as he was pressed down on the bed. His fingers worked on John’s shirt, running his hands over the wide expanse of smooth skin, and began unbuckling his pants, as John unzipped his.

John pressed hard against him, humping against his hardness, but suddenly moving away, quickly removed the rest of their clothes then returned to stroking over his body, and lifting his ass, fingers clutching, a hot mouth surrounded him. His body arching, pushing his cock further into that mouth, sucking and swallowing around him. John’s hands are encouraging his thrusts. Moaning, gasping, wanting to reach that crest and fall, but John withdrew and he whimpered at the loss.

The sudden coolness on his dick had him looking down at himself, as a strong hand wrapped around him, his cock glistening with lube. Then John was straddling his hips, guiding and lowering himself on his cock…with no condom on it. Strong thighs wide, chest heaving, oh god, he was gorgeous.

“Oh–oh…” his hips lifting, trying to meet the slow descent on his dick. “John…” his hands moving restlessly over the man, now fully seated on his dick, rocking smoothly.

“Harold…” John groaned, looking down at the lust filled blue eyes. He began to tease his own cock with a loose fist around it, not enough stimulation to push him over. No, sliding up and down Harold’s cock, nailing his prostate, along with the little breathy moans coming from the other man, was what had him shaking, but still trying to keep the suspense going. When Harold pushed hard upwards, he began moving quicker assisted by the hands grabbing his hips, and they kept moving together faster and faster, until he felt himself coming. Shaking and tightening, exploding like sticks of dynamite, long strings of cum covering Harold’s belly, with some of it ending in the soft pelt of Harold’s chest hair.

When Harold felt John coming, squeezing him, and the power of John’s discharge, hot on his skin, had him coming like never before. Swelling and filling, not a condom, but John. Body stiffening in ecstasy, he can’t stop coming, filling John over and over, and constantrating in not screaming out loud.

They lay in each other’s arms for a few minutes, panting, while their hearts settled back to a steady rhythm. Then John whispered, “I’ll go get us something to clean up, unless you want to take a shower?”

“No–no, I don’t think my legs would support me right now, even if I wanted to.” Harold whispered back.

John smiled and got up, returning after a few minutes to clean the drying cum off of Harold, feeling the small shivers when he held the other man’s overstimulated cock, as he cleaned it. He climbed in the bed, covered them both, and held Harold his arms, spooning behind him.

“These past few days…” said Harold, breaking the quietness in the room, turning slightly to look over his shoulder at John. “…the best I’ve had in a very–very long time. But, I can’t believe you did that. You know, no–no…”

John’s arms tightened slightly, and he placed small kisses on Harold’s neck and shoulders. “Yes, I’m fine with what we did. It’s been a long time since I…since it’s been a pleasure being with someone.” He almost slipped again, and almost said words he couldn’t say.

“Time for sleep. I have a busy day tomorrow. Goodnight, John.” 

“Night, Harold,” he whispered, still thinking about earlier. It had been such a long time since he had made love, not…since Jessica. He had enjoyed being with some of his clients, whether it had involved sex or not, but his feelings had not gotten involved with any of them, until Harold. “I think I’m falling for you,” he said, unaware he'd said those words out loud or noticed the sudden tenseness of the body he held so close. And still lost in his thoughts he fell asleep.

Day Four.

Harold was up early again, but this time John was awake too, and they had breakfast together. They didn’t say much, which he appreciated since he had other things on his mind. He was seriously contemplating a merger with Arthur–not a hostile takeover–but had not voiced the idea to his team, but there was also something else in his mind. Last night, John had whispered something before they went to sleep, but he wasn't sure he had actually heard it, or if he was just wishing he had, after that wonderful bout of sex they had. Oh, leave it alone Harold, focus on the meeting, think about John later, he thought, as he downed the last of his tea and stood up.

“I must leave. Feel free to spend your morning as you wish, John. I’ll call you after lunch,” he said smiling.

“Okay, thanks.” He smiled back, and watched as Harold picked up his briefcase and left.

He wasn’t going to sit and think about last night, he needed to make arrangements with an older woman he knew–that also helped the people on the Boulevard– and ask her if she could make his rounds since he was unable to, and give her money for the extra supplies. After he was done with that, he dressed and making sure he had the damn key for the room, left to go see Joan.

When he got down to the hotel lobby, he spotted the manager and smirked as he approached the man. “Good morning, Mr. Coswell,” he said, and startled the man.

“Ah, good morning, John,” he answered, smiling, looking at the very nicely dressed man in gray pants and a long sleeve polo shirt. “Are you on your way out?”

“Yes,” John answered, then reached into his pocket and pulled out the hotel keycard. “I made sure I had my key this time, so you wouldn’t have to let me into the room,” he said, his eyes sparking with a hint of mischief.

Coswell nodded, and smiled. “Well, that’s good to hear, John,” he said, with a hint of amusement. “Have a nice day.”

“Thanks,” he answered, smiling broadly as he left the hotel.

***
Harold could not concentrate; he was thinking about John. It was way past lunch time. He called a halt to their discussions, and send the team out of their temporary offices. He picked up the phone, and after making arrangements for the evening, he called the penthouse.

“Hello?”
“Why are you answering the phone?” he asked John, happy when he answered the phone
“Because you said you were going to call?”
“Oh–well, don’t answer the phone. Bye.” He said with a smile in his voice.
“B…”
 He hung up.Trying not to laugh, he redialed. 
“Harold…”
“I asked you not to answer the phone,” he tried to sound stern, but his voice came out happy despite his efforts, and heard John laugh.
“Then quit calling, Harold,” and still laughing, John hung up on him. 

Smiling broadly, he let the phone drop back in its cradle, and stood contemplating the playful little exchange with John, when Ms. Groves walked in with papers in hand; he waved her off. “Not now, Samantha.”

“But you need to sign these, Mr. Finch,” she said, a small frown appearing on her face. 

“Not…” he started, when Mark walked in. “...now, Ms. Groves.”

Mark looked from his smiling boss to the frowning assistant, who walked out shrugging her shoulders. He turned to his boss, looking stressed. “You didn’t sign the papers?”

“Not now, Mark. I’m leaving.”

“But Harold, we need to have those papers for the next meeting with Claypool, and you’re leaving? Where are you going?” he asked, uneasy at the turn of events.

“I have a date,” said a smiling Harold, putting on his suit jacket and fixing his tie.

Mark leaned close and whispered. “With…a hooker?”

The smile left Harold’s face. “Watch what you’re saying, Mark. I wouldn’t want to think you are like your wife.” He gave Mark a cold look. “And don’t ever refer to John that way again!” He said, and walked out of the office, leaving a sputtering Mark behind.

When the limo dropped him off, he hurried through the lobby and when he entered the penthouse, the early dinner he had ordered and John were waiting for him.

“Good timing, Harold. They just brought the food.”

“Hello,” he said, smiling back at John, as they sat down. “John, it’s tuxedos for tonight. We have a special night ahead of us.” 

“Oh? Were we going?” he asked, intrigued.

“It’s a surprise,” Harold said, with an enigmatic smile, and started eating.

“Fine. Keep your secrets, Harold,” he said, smiling.

After dinner, and quick showers, Harold was shaving when John came and stood behind him, running gentle fingers over his shoulders. 

“Are you sure, you wouldn’t rather stay in?” he asked in a provocative voice, and looking at Harold in the mirror, caught the gleam in his eyes.

“Oh, but then what are we to do with our night?”  Harold said, playfully. “Play cards? Maybe, watch TV? Or…”

“It’s the…or, Harold.” he said, grinning at a flirting Harold.

“Go get yourself dressed,” Harold said, smirking.

Harold was dressed and ready when he spotted John in front of the mirror, sighing and murmuring to himself. “What is the matter, John?”

“Ties–bow ties,” John muttered, frustrated. “I have to redo this. You know, Harold,” he said conversationally. “I can field strip a .45, upside down, in the dark, but I have to re-do a fu–bow tie, even though I have worn one more times than I can count.”

Harold hid his smile behind his hand, then distracting John, helped him into his jacket. But the handsome man growled, pulled the tie loose, and started to re-do it. “May I help you with it, John?” he asked, softly, not wanting to offend the frustrated man, and save the tie in the process.

John looked at Harold, saw no criticism on his face, and caved in. “Yeah, sure. If it takes less time to put this choking hazard on, please, just do it.” He sighed.

Harold’s lips curved into a smile. “I take it, you–you don’t like ties, John?”

“Er–no? But I wear them. This past year has been great though, I only had to wear them twice a month.” Then he felt his ears burning for admitting his schedule, and looking everywhere else, other than Harold’s face.

“There you go, all done,” said Harold, secretly elated upon hearing John’s…limited schedule.

“Thanks. Looks great.”

“Time to go then.”

Just as the elevator stopped and before they stepped out, John leaned over and whispered, “Because of the darn tie, I forgot to tell you how splendid you look in that tux, Harold.”

At the seductive murmur in his ear, Harold felt himself blushing, but turned towards John, ran a finger over the bow tie, and whispered back. “And you look stunning, and–and tall.” He felt himself blushing harder, but his eyebrows wiggled playfully.

John chucked with delight, wanting to hug Harold, but controlled himself in such a public place as the lobby of the hotel. Then a slight cough drew their attention to the person approaching them.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” said the hotel manager, his appreciative gaze sweeping over the two men in their tuxedos. “Here is what you requested, Mr. Finch,” he said, handing over a small envelope.

“Good evening, Mr. Coswell, and thank you,” said Harold, smiling. “Shall we go, John?”

John nodded. “Good evening, Mr. Coswell.” Then turned to Harold, smiling. “You’re still not going to tell me where we’re going?” he asked, as they walked away, not paying attention to the admiring looks directed towards them, only having eyes for Harold who was laughing and shaking his head.

The limo dropped them off in front of the imposing opera house, and they hurried in with some last minute arrivals like them.

“Opera, huh? Are you a patron of the arts, Harold?” 

“Yes. I have…seats in New York, and a couple of other places.”

They were shown to their seats quickly, the lights flickered and the house went dark. The overture began, a rich and dramatic piece filled the opera house with sound. John paid more attention to Harold than the performance itself.  He watched as Harold became fully immersed in the music and singing, leaning forward at times, sitting up straight at others, and then letting out soft sighs. When the final act ended, the audience erupted in applause.

They talked about the opera on their way back to the hotel. John listened attentively to  Harold, then commented that while he liked some of the music, and had been to the opera a few times, he was not a connoisseur like Harold. Still, he’d had a very pleasant evening.

Harold laughed. “You’re very diplomatic, John. People either love or hate the opera.”

“Well,” said John, smirking, as they entered the hotel and headed to the elevators, “I wouldn’t say hate exactly…I’m still on the fence about it. I like The Pirates of Penzance, for instance.”

“Well!” Harold said, smiling smugly. John, mentioning the light-hearted opera, suggested he might be more open to opera that Harold originally thought. “I guess there is hope for you yet, John.” Then started chucking softly at John’s elevated eyebrow.

In the room, Harold called the concierge and made arrangements for their tuxedos and a couple of suits to be picked up for dry cleaning. John was in the bathroom, so he undressed, put on his pajamas and sat on the bed tapping on his laptop.

When John came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, he stood looking at the picture of a cute Harold, with his glasses still on, asleep. He smiled, closed the laptop, took off the glasses and set everything on the nightstand. He bent down and kissed Harold on the forehead, but when he moved to his lips, Harold woke up, kissed him back, then slid down getting comfortable.

“Come to bed, John,” he murmured, “...need sleep…work tomorrow.”

John chucked and laid down. As Harold tucked himself against him, breath floating gently over his naked skin, sound asleep, he hugged him closer. I’m naked in bed, and he’s asleep, he thought, still chucking softly.

Day Five.

John woke up to Harold getting dressed, stretched, got up, and headed for the bathroom. “Harold?” he called out softly, “why don’t you take the day off?”

Harold stopped in the process of tying his tie and turned to look at John. “What?” he said, distracted by messy hair, bulging muscles and naked skin. John, after wiping his face, returned to the bed.

“Take the day off, Harold. You know how to do that, right?” He lay back down, one arm behind his head, legs crossed, while his left hand trailed over his chest. Harold was watching, so he did it again, but this time let his fingers skim over a nipple.

“Uh-huh–yes…” Harold said, distracted by John’s fingers. “Take the day off.” He called Ms.Groves, canceled the schedule for the day, and started taking his tie off.

When he finished undressing, he found John gazing at him, blue eyes nearly black with desire. As he stood looking down at the half hard cock, it started rising. He bent his head, ready to catch the pearl of precum on its tip, when John’s hand stopped him.

“Before you do that, do you–do you want me to put a condom on?” He asked, softly, showing Harold the little square packet on the palm of his hand.

“What do you think?” Harold said, and flicked his tongue over the head without waiting for an answer.

“Oh–ohhh…” He moaned, his fist crushing the little square. And as Harold’s tongue spread his juices all over his cock he moved his fist to his mouth trying to contain the sounds escaping his lips.

Harold held the base of John’s dick while he sucked at the head, it was getting even harder and twitching in his mouth as he moved his head up and down. Low, rumbling moans sounded every time he ran his tongue up and down the long, thick shaft and then swirled it around the head. 

“If–if you keep that up…” John was trying to talk, but his mouth felt dry. “Harold…oh…” He wanted to thrust so badly, into that willing mouth, that had drawn so many moans of pleasure from his mouth. But it all came crashing down, when Harold's hands between his thighs–in the process of pushing them apart–stilled over the scars there. Very few people had discovered them, but when they did, he always managed to quickly divert their attention, thus avoiding questions, and making them forget their existence. He had no such chance now. He had been so far gone he had let his guard down, and now it was too late.

Harold was startled into stopping when he felt the ridges, smooth but still perceptible beneath his fingertips. It was too late to pretend to ignore them now. John’s body had tensed, but still let those strong thighs fall apart, giving him a view of his old wounds–from the top of the inside of John’s thighs to his knees–the faint ridges, whispers of past pain, in battles John couldn’t even talk about.

For a short, breathless moment, when everything had come to a stop, he couldn’t think… but now, he needed to know, and asked quietly. “Do–do they bother you?” His eyes focused on Harold’s face.

“No, John, they don’t bother me,” he said, and let the amiration in his eyes and voice show. “You’re incredibly strong, to have gone through all this and more, and still be the man you are, and…” He trailed off, then bent forward–it didn't matter whether he found soft skin or scars–and let his lips lightly graze John’s inner thighs. “...you are gorgeous.” He breathed on the shivering skin. 

“Harold…” his voice thick with emotion. “Harold…” he murmured, repeating the man’s name, so that the words he wanted to say wouldn’t slip out. Thank you; I want to love you; stay with me, he thought, as he urgently reached for Harold. Bringing him up, face to face, eyes clinging, breath mingling with the thundering of his heart.

As John drew him up the tanned, muscular body, letting him slide along its full length, he felt desire reigniting between them. John looked at him for a moment before kissing the side of his neck and although the hot mouth was ravenous, licking, sucking and nipping, when they reached his lips they hovered a breath away, waiting. He closed the distance and they kissed gently, the pressure of lips increasing as they kissed again and again, while John’s tongue worked its way into every corner of his mouth and he could hear himself moaning.

“Get the lube please, John. I can’t wait anymore.”

“Lift up a bit,” John whispered and slipped a slick hand between them, coating both of their cocks, then with Harold back on top of him, settling into a rhythm of hands gripping, mouths meshing, and two hard cocks sliding uncontrollably. The pace increased as their bodies took over, moaning, incoherent with pleasure. When he slipped a finger into Harold's crack and pushed against his opening, Harold shuddered and spilled between them, he followed, arching off the bed even with the body still laying on top of him.

They lay in each other’s arms for a few minutes, panting, slowly calming down. Harold recovered first and chuckled softly. “Well, that was worth taking the day off.”

“Then let's get cleaned up and continue your day off, Harold. Let me take you around to a couple of places, play tourist for the day. What do you say?” John asked, smiling, running his hands over Harold’s cooling body. 

“Alright. Maybe I’ll look for a gift for Will when we’re out, instead of having my assistant, Ms. Groves, do it.”  

John lost his smile; watching a smiling Harold get up and head for the bathroom–he wasn’t going to ask who Will was–and ignoring the pang of hurt and jealousy, joined Harold in the shower. They dressed and decided to leave the hotel intending to find somewhere to eat later on.

They asked the limo driver to drive them around some of the touristy spots, and with Dennis giving them a light commentary of what they were looking at, had an enjoyable couple of hours of sightseeing. Then John asked Dennis to drive them to a different part of town, to Tony’s Italian restaurant, but before he could give the driver the address,  Dennis put a hand up stopping him.

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me where that is, sir. I know. Best pasta I’ve ever tasted!” He said, patting his rounded belly, smiling happily.

“Yes!” said John, practically gushing. “I liked the pasta carbonara so much, I begged the owner to teach me how to make it, even offering to wash dishes for them, when Tony said no.” Said John, laughing. “It took two weeks of making a pest of myself before his wife, Maria, who got tired of me begging, told me that if I could snag tickets to a baseball game that was coming up, maybe Tony would reconsider. I got them, and he reconsidered.”

As John and the driver talked and laughed, Harold asked. “You cook?” Astonished once again by his companion.

“Sorry, Harold. Yes, I cook. Tony’s is a quaint little restaurant, with authentic Italian food. I hope you like Italian? If not…”

“No–no. One of the bespoke tailors I frequent is Gianni’s in Rome. I love Italian food. By all means, let's go!”

“Great! To Tony’s then, please, Dennis.”

“Yes, sir!” 

John took out his cellphone and pushed a number. “Hello? Maria? This is the pest, John,” he laughed, saw Harold looking at him with surprise on his face, and shrugged. “I’m bringing a–a friend for lunch, do you still have tables available…” he listened for a minute, nodding. “That’ll be great, please hold the table, we’re only ten minutes away. Thank you!”

Harold was distracted from the conversation, looking at the cellphone and thinking why he never asked. Then without thinking said the first thing that came to his mind. “You–you have a cellphone…” said Harold, blushing at his stupid statement, and John  smirked at him.

“Everyone does, nowadays, Harold,” he said, snickering softly, then leaned close and whispered to Harold. “I had two. Now, I only have this one and hardly anyone knows this number. Do you want my number, Harold?” He asked in a husky, low voice, and was secretly delighted when Harold's blush spread. 

Harold cleared his throat. “Yes…maybe later,” he said. 

When they arrived, Dennis dropped them off in the front, telling them he’ll be waiting in the back when they finished their lunch. John pushed open the door, the little bell above it jingling, as he ushered Harold inside the crowded little restaurant. Harold noticed the checkered tablecloths, dark wood chairs and photos on the walls. He heard laughter and rapid Italian from the waiters, but the wonderful aroma of garlic and tomatoes was already making him curious about the food this little restaurant had to offer.

“Maria!” said a smiling John at the older woman behind the cash register.

“John, caro, welcome,” she said, smiling, with a faint Italian accent. And when the tall, handsome man gave her a peck on the check, she blushed. “Oh, you charmer! You stop that, or my Tony will get jealous.” she giggled.

“I can’t help it, I had to kiss such a pretty woman,” he said, in a playful tone. “Maria, this a friend of mine, Harold. He’s visiting, so I brought him to try some of Tony’s great food.”

Harold watched the exchange with a smile. The woman barely reached John's chest, as she stood next to him, smiling. Yes, John was a charmer, Harold thought, and his heart fluttered. 

“Welcome, Harold,” she said, as she shook hands, smiling.

“Piacere di conoscerti, Maria,” said Harold, smiling back, and her eyes widened with pleasure at his Italian.

“Piacere mio, Harold!” Maria replied warmly, then added with a playful smile in English. “Oh, you are a charmer too, Harold. Wait until I tell my Tony that John brought a friend that can speak Italian! Come–come, let me show you to your table.”

“You’re a charmer…Harold,” John whispered to Harold, as they followed Maria to their table. She handed them the menus, then headed towards the kitchen, likely to tell Tony about them. “Italian, huh? Smart and charming,” he said, smiling softly.

Harold, a bit flustered, scanned the menu, then looked up at John, who was still gazing at him, eyes shining with warmth. “Thank you. I know enough to communicate when I go to Italy, and I was just trying to be polite.” 

When the waiter came and took their order, (Fiori di zucca fritti–Fried Zucchini flowers– and Bruschetta for appetizers, Abbacchio alla Romana–roasted lamb with rosemary and garlic–with grilled asparagus for Harold, and Porchetta–roasted pork stuffed with herbs and spices–with roasted potatoes for John, for their entrees) John also asked him to fix a takeout meal with the day’s special and deliver it to the limo in the back. And it was his turn to look flustered at Harold’s knowing smile, appreciating his kindness towards their driver.

“What? It’s lunchtime, and, well, Dennis said he likes the food here,” he explained, shrugging.

Harold didn’t answer, but noticed a slight blush on John’s cheeks and not wanting to fluster his companion any further, changed the subject. “Let’s not forget to stop at one of the stores before we return so I can buy something for my godson, Will.”

“Godson?” he said, smiling. So that’s who Will is, he thought, happy at his discovery. “What do you want to get for him?”

“Yes, my partner’s son. I don’t know, a nice shirt? Or a chain? Young men wear those these days, don’t they? He’s twenty-two. He’ll be leaving for South America soon, doing some stint with a group of doctors, before coming back to continue his studies and become a doctor himself, in a few years.”

“Yes, those would be nice presents, Harold. But they are more birthday or holiday gifts, but not really for where he’s going.” John said, eating some Bruschetta, and smiling at Harold.

“I see. You have a different suggestion for what I should buy him then?”

“Well, he’s probably going somewhere rugged, so the items you suggested would be of little use then. If it was me, I’d stick to t-shirts, jeans, and a good pair of boots. But that’s just me. You’re his godfather, you know him best.” John shrugged, then took a bite of the fried zucchini flowers, chewed slowly, and swallowed. “God, these are good. Never had them before I started eating here.”

Harold was having one too, but he was cutting his in smaller pieces, enjoying the food and their conversation. “Do you eat here often?”

“Oh, no! As much as I love the food, I’d put on too much weight if I came here more than once a week,” John answered, laughing. “But I do have a weakness for asian food also, so I do take out a couple times a week.” He added, smiling.

Their waiter showed up with their main courses and conversation was interrupted while they ate only commenting about their respective dishes.

“That was an excellent meal and the wine was a good addition to it. Thank you for bringing me here, John.” 

“Glad you enjoyed it, Harold. Do you want dessert?”

“No, thank you. Usually I wouldn’t say no to a cannoli, but I ate too much to enjoy that right now.”

“I usually skip dessert when I eat out, because I end up eating too many donants at the vete…um–excuse me, I’ll be right back.” He stopped talking, he was revealing too much about his private life. This was not a date. He walked over to Maria, took out his card and paid for their meals, then smiling, whispered for her to fix a box with cannoli to take with them, because they had to go.

When he turned around, he spotted Tony at their table having a lively conversation, with a smiling Harold, in Italian. He approached the animated pair, stood listening, until Tony noticed him.

“E arrivato il seccatore,” Tony sighed, rolling his eyes at John.

Harold tried not to laugh, so he covered it up as a slight cough behind his hand. “Our compliments to the chef! Everything was delicious, Tony.”

“E stato un piacere,” Tony said, nodding and smiling. Then turned to John, patted his arm and said, “see you next week, seccatore,” and left them for his kitchen.

“John! Bye, chef!” John said, loudly to the older man’s back, chuckling. “I guess he’ll always call me pest and not John,” he said, turning to Harold, who was trying not to laugh at him.

“I guess you learned that word, fast,” Harold said, smiling. After saying their goodbyes to Maria, he was curious about the little box she handed John, but chose not to comment as walked out of the restaurant.

“Yes, along with…” John said, counting off words on his fingers. “...no, no, fuori, no, fuori something, something cucina, no, attento, no, di qua, no, non lo capisci, no, osserva. Those I learned quickly, everything else was said too fast. He was like my old drill sergeant, so I kept my mouth shut, and listened. All I said was ‘hi chef’, ‘yes sir’ or ‘yes chef’ and ‘thank you chef’.”

Harold couldn’t hold it in any longer and burst out laughing. “Oh–oh my, John! Do you know how many times you added no to your list of Italian words?” 

“That’s all he ever said to me for a whole week, Harold! The second week, he added more words, which I didn’t understand and don’t remember. Those are from the week when he reluctantly agreed to show me how to make the pasta primavera.” John said, laughing along with Harold.

Still chuckling, Harold climbed into the limo. Before John could follow, Dennis stopped him, patting his stomach and mouthing a thank you for the food he had the restaurant delivered. John winked, then joined Harold inside, setting his little box on the seat. “Have you decided what to buy for your godson?”

“I think what you suggested. So…” Harold started, but John interrupted.

“Whoa–hold on, Harold. Do you even know his sizes? And no, you can’t guess, especially with boots or even t-shirts.” 

“Ah–no? But maybe my assistant does. She arranges for some of those purchases when I ask her to. Let me call her and find out if she knows Will’s sizes.”  

John, tuned out Harold's conversation with his secretary, and leaned forward to whisper to the driver their next destination and Dennis nodded and smiled.

“Okay, she texted them to me. She had to call Olivia, his mother, to get them.” Harold finally noticed they were not moving and looked outside, eying the colorful store they had stopped in front of. “Where are we?” He asked, with a confused look.

“Come on , Harold. Let’s get out and go inside. Trust me, it's a trendy, upscale souvenir store.” John said, smiling at a hesitant Harold.

“Okay, if you say so.” 

“You’ll be able to find all kinds of things here, for your godson. You should buy him something that’ll make him smile, when he wears it or looks at it, because you thought of him while you were visiting here.” He said, smiling and ushered Harold inside the big store.

Harold’s eyes widened, as he looked around the bustling store packed with all things Hollywood. “Wow,” he breathed, “I’ve never seen anything like this!” He gawked at the movie posters, the shelves overflowing with souvenirs and glittering trinkets, t-shirts, mugs and keychains.

“Yes, it’s a very popular store. Tell me his t-shirt size and I’ll help you find those. You look around and see what else you think he may like.”

“Olivia said, he’ll wear either medium or large, depending on the shirt.”

“Okay, I’ll find you.” And left, leaving a still gawking Harold, to find the t-shirts.

Harold gravitated towards the small golden oscars and scanned the plaques, not finding one with godson on it, chose one with nephew on it. Well, Will called him uncle Harold so it wasn’t too far off. Then he found a coffee mug, a star of fame with William on it, so he picked that up too.

John found Harold looking at the key chains. “Here, there are four t-shirts, not too flashy, so choose which one or two you like…” he cut himself off when he spied the little oscar in Harold’s hand. “Harold! That’s a great little item you have there. He’ll get a kick out of that one every time he looks at it. And the cup, great choice. See? You can do… shopping!”

Harold looked up at John and saw the appreciation of his gifts, and smiled shyly. “You really think he’ll like these?”

“Definitely!” The oscar he can leave at home, but the cup and the t-shirts he can take with him and everyone will either ask if he’s from Cali or where he got them. Either way, he’ll tell them, with a big smile, his uncle Harold got them for him on his trip. Then rib him and call him ‘Hollywood’, which isn’t bad, since I’m sure he’s a handsome young man.”

Harold’s smile got bigger with every word and he nodded. “Yes, he was a very cute baby and he’s grown into a fine looking young man. Okay, we’ll buy all these and he can choose what to take with him.”

“Oh, and I picked up this,” John said, showing the backpack. “You can put everything in here, instead of a gift bag.”

“Thank you, John. This was…quite an experience, and thank you for your help.” he said softly, eyes shining with warmth. “I think I'll take this key chain for myself, so I can remember all the good…times I had on this trip.”

“Sure…um…you’re welcome,” John whispered, not knowing what else to say, or do, as he looked at Harold. Oh, shit. You’re falling in love John, he thought, and felt a pang in his chest, because there was only a day left, before they separated and he wouldn’t see Harold again. He put on a brave face and smiled. “Come on, let’s get you to a cash register so you can pay for your gifts.”

Harold nodded, and took out his wallet and it wasn’t long before they walked out of the store, with everything in the backpack and got back into the limo, sitting close as they returned to the hotel. When they arrived, Harold took out some money and handed it to their driver.

“Oh…that’s a lot of money, sir.” Dennis said, his eyes bulging.

“Take it, Dennis. You went above and beyond your driving duties today. Thank you.” said Harold, smiling at the astonished man.

“Thank you, sir!” the driver said, smiling and tipping his hat at both of them. “Oh, don’t forget your box, I kept it in my cooler.” He said smiling at John as he handed him the little box.

“Thanks, Dennis. Goodnight.” 

Harold couldn’t stand it anymore and while in the elevator, he finally asked. “What have you got there, John?”

“What, this?” John said, grinning and opened the box so Harold could see the four little cannoli’s. “Dessert. Are you ready for some…dessert, Harold?” he asked in a low husky voice, before dipping his finger in the sweet, creamy ricotta filling of one of the cannoli’s, then proceeded to stick his finger in his mouth and suck it clean.

Harold was excited to see the sweet dessert, looking forward to tasting it, until he saw John dip his finger and stick a dollop of cream in his mouth, then suck his finger clean. His breath caught, and his mouth opened as he took in the near orgasmic look on John’s face. But when John turned to him, the look had disappeared from his face, as if it was never there.

“Hmm, it’s good. What do you think about ordering a small platter of cheese and fruit to eat for supper, then having dessert?” he asked, waving the little box in front of Harold’s face.  The look on Harold’s face was priceless. Pupils dilated, mouth slightly open and a rosy tinge on his cheeks. It was a good look on him, and his cock agreed with him. But he ignored his body’s urges, and toned down his actions, because he wanted the memories of the day more than a quick fuck.

Harold shook himself out of his daze and nodded. As they came to the door of the penthouse and before he had a chance to open the door, John’s hand stopped him. 

“I had such a wonderful time with you today, Harold,” John whispered hoarsely. The memories of the day prevailing over desire. A date in his mind, but not in reality. “Thank you.” he said softly, and let go of Harold’s wrist, allowing him to open the door.

It took Harold three tries before he had the door open. Once inside the room, he put the backpack away, and tried to calm down from the little show John had put on in the elevator. When he came out of the bedroom, he found John removing his shoes and socks, and curious, he stood looking. Wandering what John had in mind, when he moved the coffee table out of the way, grabbed the throw blanket off the sofa and proceeded to spread it on the floor, then placed the dessert box on it and sat down, his eyebrow rose. Ah, a picnic of a sort, and he smiled.

“Why don’t you order the platter and wine, then come join me, Harold?” John asked, smiling back at Harold.

“Very well. Wine for two or just water for you?” asked Harold, as he picked up the phone.

“Wine is fine.”

After he placed the order, Harold did the same as John and removed his shoes and socks. Then he took off his jacket and tie, and rolled up his sleeves. When room service came he directed them to set everything on the blanket. He was going to sit across from John, but was drawn closer, partially leaning on a strong shoulder and he let his left hand rest on John’s thigh.

“A…picnic?” He asked, as John poured wine for both of them, and handed him a glass.

“ Yep. Light supper, after the lunch we had.” John chuckled. “And the dessert of course.”

“Of course.”

They ate slowly, talked about their day and Harold spoke with pride about Will, with small stories of his godson’s childhood and growing up, and John shared some funny stories he heard from ‘an acquaintance named Ernie’, that had them laughing about the things Ernie could find out about people.

Then came time to eat the cannoli. Harold flushed once again–remembering what happened earlier–as he watched John eat one, even though there was no blatant, suggestively sexual visual this time. But, when the tip of his tongue came out to catch a tiny bit of cream left in the corner of John’s mouth, after he ate the last bite, Harold reacted.

Suddenly his arms were full of Harold, lips covering his, while a tongue probed inside his mouth, sending a thrill to his groin and unleashing all the horniness he had felt earlier. He was hard and fighting the urge to pin Harold to the floor and sink into him with one stroke. Mouths locked together, John rolled them over, stopping only long enough to hastily remove their clothes. Returning to Harold’s arms, and imagining sparks going off wherever their skin touched, sunk back into a string of passionate kisses.

He drew back from their fevered kissing, and Harold tried to chase his lips moaning. “What…do…you…want, Harold?” he asked, breathing in gasps, running a restless hand from chest to hip and back up the warm body against his. “Anything…tell me, tell me…” he asked, mouthing a nipple.

“You…I want you…” managed Harold, feeling drunk from John’s kisses.

Oh, fuck, yes! He shuddered, it was exactly what he wanted. “…do you want me to tease you with my tongue and lips…” doing precisely what he said, enjoying the moans and movements coming from Harold. “Do you want…me to suck you dry…or…” he ran his tongue down and around the erect shaft then closed his lips around the swollen head and Harold was begging him not to stop. He pulled away.

Harold let out a small sob, “no…finish it, please…” his hands trying to push John’s head back onto his to dick. “I want…to come, John…”

“Shhh…I will. I’ll make it better for you…shhh,” He whispered, dropping a small kiss on the leaking cock. “I have to…calm down some,” he kissed and petted Harold.

“Be–better?”

“You’ll see,” he promised softly. “But I have to go get the lube and a towel, love.” he stood and only thought about hurrying back to Harold, not what he said. The sight that greeted him when he came back had him moaning, and dropping on his knees, by the naked body still splayed open on the blanket. 

Harold with a hand on his dick, stocking it, and the sight of John’s eyes watching him made him dizzy with lust. John gently pulled his hand away and replaced it with his own, but after a few strokes let go. Then gripping his waist lifted him some and sucked all of him into a wet, hot mouth. He was going insane with pleasure. “Oh my god!” he sobbed, as John pulled away again, but this time slick fingers inside him, moving, stretching him had him moaning in pleasure once more.

John sat up and leaned against the couch behind him, drew Harold up and sat him on his lap. “Yeah…” he hissed, as he lifted Harold once more and slowly let him sink on his cock. “You can control how you want me,” he whispered, hugging the man close before locking his lips on Harold’s, hips twitching, but holding on to his libido. 

Harold gasped, “no…I don’t…I want…” he wanted more, and had enjoyed the more adventurous side of sex with John, instead of the vanilla sex he’d had with Alex.

John understood quickly. Harold was still shy about asking what he wanted. He put his hands on Harold’s hips, gently rocking him, then started speaking in a low voice, if he saw that his words were eliciting the right responses, then he could follow with the right action. “It’s so hard to keep…” he breathed close to Harold’s ear, “...from lifting you up, and slamming you down hard on my dick, over and over again.” 

“Ohhh…oh god!” Harold managed, clutching John’s shoulders.

“Would you like that, Harold?” he asked, his control tenuous, his words affecting him as much as Harold. “But, even more than that…” he licked the ear he was whispering into, “I want to bend you over…bury my dick balls deep…into that sweet ass of yours…” he bit down on a white shoulder, and felt Harold’s short nails digging into his skin. “Holding you down…riding you hard and fast. Would you…would you let me, Harold?” He asked, panting with need.

“Yesss…” Harold moaned.

“Fu…” John locked his jaw and held still for a few seconds, then sprung in action. He lifted Harold off him, sat him on the couch and let him watch as he slicked his dick with more lube sliding his fist over it a couple times, then ordered softly. “Turn around and get on all fours.” Half-kneeling behind Harold and keeping the other leg on the floor, he placed a hand between the other man’s shoulder blades and pushed down gently. “Lean forward.” And entered with one smooth thrust into a loose Harold.

Harold felt a bit exposed, with his ass up in the air, but forgot about that when John entered him with one sudden move, “Oh!” He exclaimed.

“You like that?”

“Yes…” He breathed out, as he felt John’s hips flush against him.

John placed his hands on Harold’s hips, pulled out and slammed back in, but when he heard a loud gasp, he stopped and asked concerned. “Did I hurt you?”

“Oh, no–no!”

“Okay...” He started moving once again and there is no stopping this time. The white skin of Harold’s ass, had a rosy hue from the repeated slapping of his hips. If he could, he would be nipping those slightly rounded cheeks, while he fucked between them. With the pace he set, each stroke deeper than the last, faster, harder, he wasn’t going to last long, could feel his orgasm building already; breathing hard, his cock swollen to full size and ready to burst. When it happens, the strangled shout that leaves his mouth is like no sound he has ever made before…a blend of pleasure–pain and relief, as the almost violent spasms of cum leave him. He’s holding Harold tightly against him, body arching and creating a seal between them, as if making sure it all stays deep inside the other man’s ass and none spills out, while he’s also trying to to concentrate on breathing, so he would not pass out.

Filled with one thrust left Harold gasping, the strong hands holding him tight, as the muscular body slammed into him over and over, had him whimpering with pleasure.  Then John's loud cry of ecstasy, combined with the pulsating cock inside him, has him coming without being touched. He thought John was going to collapse on him, but gentle hands turned him over, strong arms trembling as the handsome man kept his weight off of him and their eyes locked together, heavy breathing the only thing that’s heard in the room for a while, then John placed a light kiss on his lips. 

“Are–are you, okay?” 

“Yes, John.” he whispers back, smiling up at handsome worried face.

“Oh–um, good,” John stammered, his eyes flicking away from Harold, before looking back again. “I–I got…um…” He rode Harold hard and…he flushed at that thought. Oh, but fuck it had been so good! But he was still worried. “So, you’re not hurting?”

“Oh, no! Just a…good ache.” My goodness, how sweet. After all that amazing sex, John was embarrassed for enjoying it. “ I may have to stand for my meeting tomorrow, but…” he joked, but stopped when John groaned. 

“…I’ll run a warm bath for you, and…”

“John, stop. That's the first time I’ve come without being touched.” He wanted John to understand how much he had enjoyed it.

John covered his face with his hands, this was the first time he had done that. He forgot to take care of his partner…er, customer. “Oh fuck! I don’t don’t know which is worse, not taking care of you, or…”

“John–John! You’re not listening!” He pulled John’s hands away from the handsome face, and made John look at him. “Listen to me, you made it so good for me, you didn’t have to touch me. You told me you would make it better for me and you did!”

“Yes?”

“Yes!” Harold nodded. “But, if you want to pamper me, and run a bath…I won’t say no.” He added, smiling. And John finally smiled back.

“Yeah, I'll go and start one. You wait right here.” 

Harold watched as John hurried off, admiring his naked form. But he was starting to understand that this tall, handsome man also had an even bigger heart. He could fall so easily…no–no more relationships. But John…

“Come on, Harold. I found some lavender oil and added it in the bath water, that should relax you.” 

“Ohh,” he sighed, as he got in the warm bath, with John sitting behind him gently washing him. He asked to be pampered and John was doing exactly that.

John led a relaxed Harold to bed, spooning behind him. The smell of lavender and a warm, softly snoring Harold in his arms soon had him drifting off. “I love you,” he whispered, before falling asleep too.

Day six.

Harold sat at the dining room table, sipping his tea and thinking about his week. From his chance encounter with a gorgeous man, to Arthur Claypool's corporation takeover, the reason that had brought him to this town. The hard work his team had put in for almost a year was not going to be wasted, though it wasn't exactly the outcome Mark, and everyone else including the Claypools would be expecting. They would finalize all later today, and then he would be leaving. That thought brought a frown to his face.

“Morning, Harold,” John said softly, not wanting to startle the man, sitting at the table, lost deep in thought.

Harold shifted from his inward thoughts, to look at the tall man smiling down at him. “Good morning, John. Coffee?” he offered, and his gaze shifted to the exposed, long bare leg, as John sat down next to him, crossing his legs and accepting the cup of coffee with a nod. He shifted, picking up his cup, and the twinges of their energetic and memorable sex last night, had him smirking in his cup tea, drinking the last of it.

“Finishing your…business, today?” John asked, keeping his face impassive, but nodding towards the file next to Harold’s elbow.

“Yes. This–this will be our last last night together, and I’ll be going back to New York.” He was looking for a reaction from John, but the man was not looking at him, he was looking down at his cup of coffee.

“Yes, I know.”

“I really like to see you again…” he started, but John’s startled gaze had him stopping and smiling.

“Wh–what? You would?” A ray of hope flooded him and he smiled back at Harold.

“Yes. I can arrange a condo for you, a card for anything you need…” 

John interrupted hurriedly before Harold could go on, the smile disappearing from his lips. “Wait. You want to…see me, and make arrangements for…what? Weekly visits, monthly…and leaving money every time you leave again?” Oh, his heart had gotten involved and now it was going to be broken. He stood up and walked to the balcony, trying to think clearly.

Harold followed. “John?”

John turned and faced the man following him. “I have an apartment, clothes, a…I have all the things I need, Harold.” 

A frown creased Harold’s brow. “What do you want, John?”

“Harold…I told you a few days ago you were my last client. Does that tell you anything?” he was trying not to push, but at Harold’s blank look, he sighed. “I’m looking for something different, Harold. This part of my life is over. I want–I want the fairy tale life…someone to share life with, someone to…I’m sorry, but it's not the offer you just made me.” 

Harold opened his mouth to reply, but the phone rang and he went to answer. “Yes? They’re there? Okay, Mark, let’s do it right now. On my way.” He put his jacket on and turned to John. “Please understand what you want…John, I’m not...I just…” he didn’t know how to finish that thought.

John nodded. “Yeah, I get it, Harold. It was a good offer…for someone like me. Thanks.” 

“I had a great time with you, John. I haven’t thought about what you are–do, all week.” Harold said as he walked out of the penthouse.

“But you just did, Harold…I had a great time with you too.” He said to himself, as he sat in the empty room, looking at Harold’s empty chair at the table.

***
Harold walked straight into the conference room of their temporary offices. His team,  the Claypools and their lawyers, waited around the long table for him to arrive. “I apologize for the delay, shall we start?”

“Mr. Claypool…” Mark started.

Harold raised his voice a little. “Mark, could you and everyone please step out of the room, please? I want to talk to Arthur alone.” He gestured at the door.

Mark nodded, looking surprised, but quickly asked everyone to leave. As they left the room, he and Eric both turned in surprise when Harold started talking. “Arthur, do you remember when we used to talk about the idea of AI’s way back then? Then let me explain what would happen if we unleashed two of them…” They heard no more as Harold closed the door in their faces. 

Mark and Eric paced, avoiding looking at each other as they waited. Everyone else stood stiffly against the wall, and once in a while checked their phones. Finally, after what felt like an eternity the door swung open. Harold and Arthur stepped out, with huge grins and everyone stared at them dumbfounded.

Harold turned to Mark. “You can handle the rest of the paperwork, Arthur and I have come to an agreement. Thank you, gentlemen.” With that, Harold nodded to Arthur and walked out of the room.

“Come in, gentlemen, come in,” Arthor gestured, broadly smiling. “Harold and I…”

Harold heard no more as the door closed behind him. He took the elevator down and was out of the building heading for the limo. But when Dennis opened the door for him, instead of getting in he handed him his briefcase and looked around him.

“I’m going to take a little walk, Dennis. Please wait for me here.”

“Yes, sir.” the limo driver answered, shaking his head. Today, Mr. Finch was back to the non-smiling man he had been when he arrived at the hotel.

Harold found a bench at the park across the street and sat thinking. No, not about the new venture he was about to embark with Arthur. Between them–saving the company from its now vulnerable position–when they finished combining their resources, the military contract and his AI, a new partnership was born and he felt really good about it. Although he did feel bad about all the work Arthur had put in his AI and they had destroyed together. It would never have been finished in time to meet the military's contract time limit anyway. No, it was his conversation with John that had him thinking and feeling uneasy.

He enjoyed John's company, and still wanted to be with him. The many facets of the tall, handsome man intrigued him. But John was looking for a relationship and he wasn’t ready, was he? After the way things ended with Alex, he didn’t want to think about having a serious relationship. He decided to stop thinking about it and headed back to the limo; back to the hotel and John.

***

When he walked in to the penthouse, he noticed John's luggage by the door , and John was waiting for him with a small smile on his lips. “I see you’re…packed.”

“Business all done?” John said, instead of answering the obvious.

“Yes, finally finished.”

“Your lawyer, Mark, called looking for you. He sounded very…anxious. He wanted to talk to you about why you changed your mind from the original plan and went into partnership with Mr. Claypool. He wants you to call him as soon as possible.” John was now smiling openly. “Anyway, that's what I managed to…put together from his…babbling.”

“I’ll take care of it later, thank you.”

“I knew you liked the man, Harold. You did good, congratulations.”

“Yes, it felt good.” he said, but was looking at John’s luggage.“So, you’re…leaving.”

“Yes, it’s time for me to go. Thanks for…it was a good offer, Harold. If it was a few years ago, when I was younger, I would have jumped at that. But now, well…it's different. I want…” John blew out a breath and stopped talking. It was no use spilling anything else, and he might say something too revealing. 

Harold approached, handing John the money they had agreed on. “Yes, there was a time I wanted that. Here…” he said, handing John a card. “if you ever need anything…”

“Thanks,” Harold never did ask for his cellphone number, but he noted the handwritten cellphone number on the card Harold handed him and he put it in his pocket. He took some bills out of the money Harold gave him, stuffed the rest in his suitcase, and handed the money to Harold, who held it like he didn’t know what it was.

“What's this?”

“The money you gave me for clothes, I didn’t need it.” He said, as he picked up his clothes.

“What?”

“I didn’t buy clothes, Harold. These are mine.” He opened the door and grabbed the handle of his case, ready to walk out of Harold’s life and leave part of his heart behind.

Harold grabbed a strong arm. “Stay,” he whispered, “stay, because you want to, not because I’m paying you.”

Oh god, he wanted too, he wanted too. “I–I can’t.”

“Goodbye, John.”

“Goodbye, Harold.”

Harold leaned against the closed door, looking at the money he still held in his hand. He crunched the crisp bills in his fist and closed his eyes. “You’re such a fool, Harold. That offer you made, must have been like a slap to his face.”

***
John was holding onto his emotions, as tightly as he was holding the handle of his suitcase that his knuckles were turning white. He needed to get home and then go see Joan. He didn’t want to be alone right now. He drew a calming breath as he stepped into the lobby and spotted the hotel manager. The man had been nice, so he walked over to say goodbye.

A pair of tennis shoes came into Coswell’s view, as he bent down to pick up a fallen pamphlet from the floor. He straightened up and came face to face with John.

“Mr. Coswell, I came to say goodbye. We were never properly introduced,” he said, putting out a hand, which the manager took and shook. “I’m John Reese. We won’t meet again, but it was nice to meet you.”

“Mr. Reese, it was a pleasure. So, you’re not accompanying Mr. Finch to…New York?” He asked, looking at the tall man, whose smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“Nah, that’s not…I like L.A.” he shrugged.

“I see,” he said thoughtfully, then brightened up. “Do you have transportation, Mr. Reese?”

“I’ll get a cab outside, and please call me John.”

“John, allow me,” he motioned to the limo driver. “Dennis, please take our guest wherever he wishes to go.”

“Yes, sir!” said a smiling Dennis.

“ Thank you, goodbye, Mr. Coswell.”

“Come visit us again, sometime, Mr. Reese.”

“So where too, Mr..” Dennis asked, as they loaded the luggage in the limo.

“Just John, Dennis. You remember going to Tony’s? I live close by there” he said, giving Dennis the address and directions.

When they got to his building and got his stuff out he turned to say goodbye but thought about Joan. “Hey, Dennis? Can you do me a favor?”

“Sure, John.” 

“Can you wait for a few, while I drop these off, and give me a lift somewhere else? It’s on your way back to the hotel but...”

“Sure, sure. Don’t worry, take your time.”

“Thanks!” Out of habit he picked up his mail, rushed inside and was back outside in ten minutes. When he got back inside the limo he carefully directed Dennis towards the warehouse.

“You can drop me off here, Dennis. I’ll walk the rest of the way.”

“Nope. Mr. Coswell said I was to take you where you wanted to go.”

“Well, you might not want to drive me there, Dennis. It’s not really a place for limos, you know? I don’t want to get you in trouble for giving me an extra ride.”

“You let me worry about that, now tell me.”

“Okay, thanks. Two more blocks, then turn right.”

He turned into the dirt parking lot, full of potholes, with a big run down warehouse and with a few homeless people hanging outside, all of them turning to look as the limo approached.

“You sure this is where you want to go?” asked Dennis, frowning.

“Yeah, I’m here to see a friend. Thanks, Dennis. Bye!” 

Dennis stepped out of the limo, and stood watching as John walked away. He was going to get back in when he saw that everyone was acting very friendly towards John, but when he heard someone call out to John he waited before getting in.

“Hey, John! If you're looking for Joan she’s not here, man,” a tall skinny black guy said, stopping John’s stride.

“Hey, Tom. You know when she will be back?”

“Nah, man. You know her, probably won’t be back for hours.”

“Okay, thanks. Just tell her I’ll be back tomorrow, if you see her.” John stood there uncertain if he wanted to stay and wait or just go home. He turned and was startled to see Dennis still there.

“Hey, you should have left. Most of the people here are harmless, but you never know who might come by this place, Dennis.”

“Well, good thing I waited, huh?” he said smiling. “Looks like your friend is not here, so come on, I’ll just drive you home.”

“Damn, I didn’t mean for you to drive me around. I should have just got my bike out and come over.”

Dennis was glancing at John, sitting quietly next to him. Here was another one not smiling anymore, remembering how Mr. Finch and John had been this past week as he drove them around, wondering what happened between them.

When they arrived, John, genuinely grateful at the trouble Dennis went through, tried to tip the man.

“Come on, man. Just doing a favor for a friend.” Dennis said, pushing the money away.

“Thanks, Dennis. I usually go to Tony’s on Monday’s for lunch. If you ever have the time off, hope to see you there sometime, my treat!” He said, smiling and waving goodbye, walked into his building, and his lonely bed. For once the super was not around.

Sunday.

Harold was ready to leave. His luggage was on its way downstairs, the backpack for Will in his hand. He stopped by the door for a last look around the penthouse before he left. The desk, the couch, the coffee table and the blanket, the bed, so many memories of firsts in this place. And the door…the damn door he let John walk out of yesterday. He sighed as he closed it behind him, then took the elevator down to the lobby. He may never stay here again, when he came back to work with the Claypool corporation on that contract, he would find a condo to rent.

He approached the counter and the manager personally handed him his bill. “Are there any…messages for me?” he asked, as he signed it.

“Sorry, Mr. Finch, no…massages.” He said, softly. “Would you be needing transportation to the airport, sir?”

“Yes, please.” he said, as he handed his hotel bill back to the manager.

“Dennis will take you wherever you need to go, Mr. Finch. We try to accommodate all our guests. Dennis even took John home yesterday,” he said offhandendendly. “Please, come visit us again, Mr. Finch.” he said, smiling, as he handed over a copy of the bill.

He nodded at the hotel manager. “Thank you,” he said, walking out the hotel, the valet following with some of his smaller luggage. 

He got in the limo and set the backpack next to him. He was looking outside, then looked next to him at the pack and suddenly sat forward. “Dennis?” he said urgently, drawing the driver’s attention to him.

“Yes, sir?”

“Did–did you drive John home, yesterday?” 

Dennis smiled. “Yes, sir.”

“Would you drive me there, please?”

“Yes, sir!” He said, smiling broadly, and at the next light turned left.

Harold was looking outside anxious at their slow progress through traffic. A few blocks later he noticed a line outside a restaurant, and saw the big sign. Tony’s. “Dennis, was that…”

“Yes, sir. Tony’s. John lives a couple of blocks down from here.”

“Oh!” His heart fluttered at the thought of seeing John again.

“This is it, sir,” said Dennis, parked the limo, and came around to open the door. “I saw him pick up his mail and go inside. I’ll wait for you here, Mr. Finch.”

Harold ran an assessing look over the five-story building, with a classic stone facade that made it look like an old Hollywood hotel. The courtyard with a stone fountain in the middle, and red roses all around, with well trimmed hedges, that someone was busy working on at the moment. The man spotted him looking, stopped working and walked over.

“Hello. I’m Trusk–Ernie Trusk, the super here. If you’re looking to rent, sorry but…”

Harold’s eyes widened, John had told him a couple of stories he heard from an ‘acquaintance named Ernie’ he had said, which had made him laugh. So, John did live here and the super was…the acquaintance. “Hello, Mr. Trusk. No, I’m not looking to rent, I came to see a friend that lives here. Mr. Reese.”

“John? Fifth floor, corner apartment,” the super said smiling. “Quiet guy, always out volunteering, keeps to himself.”

“I see. Thank you. Fifth floor you said?”

“Yes, 510. But he's not here right now. Saw him leave on his bike, about half an hour ago.”

“Oh. I’m sorry I missed him then. You wouldn’t know where he might have gone, would you?”

“Nah, sorry. Mr.?”

“Finch. Thank you, Mr. Trusk, goodbye.” The thought that he had just barely missed John left him downhearted. When he entered the limo, he sighed. “He’s not here, just missed him. Well, I guess to the airport then, Dennis.”

Dennis didn’t start the car right away, tapping the steering wheel thoughtfully. Mr. Finch looked so down, so he decided to tell him about the other place John had gone too yesterday. He turned to look at the man sitting behind him. “Well, sir…I don’t know if you would be interested, but I might know where he went.”

“What? Where?” He leaned forward, waiting for the driver to continue.

“Well, I took him to another place yesterday, and heard that he was going to go there this morning.”

“Do you remember where? Let’s go!”

“Yes, sir. Not the best part of town, you sure you want me to take you there?”

“Yes–yes. Take me there, please, Dennis.”

“Yes, sir.”

***
After John got to the warehouse, he covered his bike with an old tarp to hide it from prying eyes. He knew the guys around the warehouse would keep an eye out and not let anyone bother it, but better safe than sorry. He took his helmet off, and went inside to find Joan.

“John, what are you doing here?” She asked, but when he didn’t answer, she noticed he was not his usual smiling self, but looked positively glum. “Hey! Tell Joan what happened,” she coaxed gently.

He shrugged, fiddling with Joan’s stuff that she was always sorting out. If he started talking, he would spill his feelings, and he wanted to hide them–ignore them. Anything to avoid bringing them in the open and the hurt that came with them. He’d been so unengaged with his feelings for so long, and they had come so fast, and so strong, that he was still reeling from them.

Joan moved away and stood looking out the dirty windows, wondering how to make John talk to her, when she spotted a limo turning into the lot. “Hey, John, come here! A limo just brought a guy in a suit and he’s outside looking around.”

“What?!”

“Yeah! Come here. You think someone is looking to buy this place? What will happen…” she turned to John, who had come to stand next to her, and was looking out the window, stunned. “John?” she questioned, worried.

“Ohh…wow!”

The soft, surprised words had her looking at John closely. His face had changed, from being glum a few minutes ago, to beaming as he looked out the window at the guy in the suit. “What? What’s the matter?”

John was looking, and a smile broke through as he turned to Joan. “No, no one is buying the building…that’s…it's…maybe a fairytale come true. I…” he turned and hurried outside.

“Huh?” But John was gone, so she went back to looking outside.

Harold was looking around for John, while the people around the building were looking curiously at him and whispering among themselves. He turned to ask Dennis if he spotted John, when the driver smiled and pointed behind him. He turned to find John looking straight at him. Even dressed in jeans and a short sleeved t-shirt, the handsome man stood out instead of blending in with the small crowd of people gathered around him. 

“John,” he said, as he drew closer and John met him half way.

“Harold.” His name was a whisper as they faced each other. “What…”

“I couldn’t leave, John,” he rushed to say. “Not without you.”

John was reaching out, but drew his hand back. “Come on, let’s go somewhere else. This is not the place for you.”

Harold saw the aborted gesture, so he reached out and touched John’s arm. “I don’t mind.”

John looked at the hand on his arm, then back at Harold. “ No, we'll go somewhere else, but I have to take my bike. I can’t leave it here. I trust most people here, but…”

“Okay. I had Dennis take me to your building earlier, but Mr. Trusk informed me you weren’t home, I had just missed you. Maybe we could talk over there?”

John looked at the other man, surprised. Harold had really made an effort to find him, but until they talked he didn’t dare hope. He nodded. “Yeah, sure. I–I’ll just go get my bike and I’ll meet you there.” He started to walk away but had to turn and look back. Yep, Harold was still there, looking at him.

Joan was waiting by where he had stashed his bike, smiling. “Him, huh? Fairy tale…”

“Yeah, if I’m lucky…live the fairytale…we’ll see. See ya, Joan.” he said and smiled.

Harold watched as John talked to an older woman, while uncovering a big black bike, then put on a leather jacket and a helmet. As the bike roared into life between John’s strong legs, Harold felt his pants tightening, and he hurriedly got inside the limo. My goodness the man looked sexy.

John paced next to the limo on his bike for a couple of blocks, stealing glances through his visor at a smiling Harold looking at him through the window of the limo. Then, he gunned it and left for home. He wanted to get there first and put away the bike before Harold came over. He had just reached the doors of the building and saw the limo park, with Harold getting out and hurrying towards him, when Ernie approached him.

“Hey, John. Someone…”

“Yeah, Ernie, I know, thanks.” he said, motioning for the super to look behind him, where Harold was now standing.

“Oh. Hey…”

John took Harold’s arm and opened the door. “Later, Ernie,” he said. They rode the elevator up without speaking but looking at each other. John was very hesitant to say anything. Harold had come looking for him, but for what? His heart knew what it wanted, but his brain was telling him otherwise. It was better to let Harold start the conversation. 

“Please come in,” he said softly, when he unlocked the door, and let Harold into his apartment.

Harold looked around the sparsely, yet tastefully decorated apartment, with plenty of natural light coming through the windows. “Nice place,” he said, turning to look at John, who was still looking at him with a mixture of nervousness and excitement in his eyes but was holding back, probably unsure of his intentions in seeking him out.

“So, John…” he started, and must have startled the man so much he dropped the bike helmet he was holding, a blush showing although he had tanned skin. 

John bent down and picked up the helmet, embarrassed. “Sorry. Excuse me, I–I’ll just go put this away.” He walked over to his bedroom, taking off his jacket and setting the helmet on the dresser. When he turned around, Harold was standing in the doorway, looking stunned at his big bed, taking most of the space in the room.

“That’s…a big bed…”

His heart started pounding, seeing the man he’d fallen for, almost inside his bedroom. It made him want to lay Harold on his bed–the bed he never shared with anyone–and tell him, show him, how much he loved him. A shiver ran through him at his thoughts, but he controlled his impulses. “It’s called a California-king, it’s wider and longer than a king sized bed,” he explained, to distract himself from his thoughts. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Sure,” said Harold, stepping away from the doorway and following John into the kitchen. Poor John, was so rattled by his presence already, maybe commenting about the huge bed was not something he should have brought up. But he had been amazed by the size of the bed that fitted the tall, muscled, gorgeous man so well. He could just picture a naked John laying on it, sated and sleepy, after making love with him. 

“I have juice and water,” John said, the refrigerator door open, waiting for Harold to answer him.

“Oh, sorry,” he said, shaking off the thoughts of a naked John. “Juice is fine,” said Harold, noticing the well stocked fridge, remembering John said he cooked. After John poured two glasses of orange juice and offered him one, he asked, “John, what were you doing at that warehouse?”

“Oh. I went to give Joan–umm, Joan helped me when I ended up in the streets, and got me to stop drinking too. I’ve known her for…oh, I guess about twelve years and have tried to get her out of there, but she’s been out there since she was young and refuses to give up on the ones she takes care of. None of the ones that live there are on drugs, but most of them do drink, some have part time jobs, so she tries…” 

“And you? You try to help too, don’t you?”

John shrugged. “I give Joan money, and we make sure they have food, at least once a day. A few have gotten off the streets, but most are too used to the life out there, so…”

“I knew there were so many things I have yet to discover about you, John,” said Harold, moving closer to John and sliding his hands up the broad chest, then up a strong neck, that willingly bent down towards him, as his hands locked behind it, pulling gently.

“Harold?” he asked, voice shaking, as Harold touched him.

“I think I’ve fallen for you too, John.” He said quickly, putting them both out of their misery.

John forgot about the pain he had felt yesterday after leaving the man in his arms. Harold had heard him and was now saying what he had longed to hear. “Oh–oh god, I love you!” he breathed out before locking his lips over Harold’s, and holding him tight.

The kiss seemed endless, yet not long enough, when Harold pulled away trying to remember how to breathe. “John?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you come to New York with me, for maybe a week, I have to take care of some things and…”

“Yes…but,” he said carefully.

“Oh, we’re coming back here after that, maybe sooner. I have to give Will his presents, before he leaves on Wednesday. Then, I have to take care of some business with Nathan, about the changes between our company and Arthur’s.

“Oh! I forgot your godson is leaving on his trip. So, when are you flying out?”

“Well, about two hours ago?” Said Harold, laughing at John’s look.

“Oh, shit. You missed your flight! Harold I may be able to get a ticket tonight or the first available to New York…”

“Who said you need a ticket? I have my plane here and it’s not going to fly off without me,” he said, frowning.

“Uhh, Harold?”

“Yes?”

“You–you have your own plane?” He shouldn’t have been so stunned about it, but he was. “Well, I knew you had money…but…oh boy!” John had a funny feeling, that Harold maybe was way, beyond rich and maybe beyond him…then he was screwed. 

“What? What's the matter with you?”

“I–I think you, I mean…I may not be a millionaire, but I do have money, because I invested my money wisely, but I think you are.  And I’m not sure you…I love you, but…Ah, hell. Harold, are you sure about getting involved with me?”

Harold didn’t know if he should laugh or kiss the man silly. John was looking so worried about him being a millionaire, he couldn’t wait until John found out he was way more than that. “Yes, I’m very sure, and yes, I love you too.” He said, stopping there for now.

“Oh. But you know, people will think I’m a kept man. I don’t care who thinks what, as long as I know you love me. But, you do a lot of business with that particular group, so can you stand the whispering and talking behind your back, there’ll be a lot of that.”

“I don’t care about what they say or who says it either, John.” He told John firmly.

“Well, that's good. Because, now that I have you, you won’t be going anywhere without me–not even when you go to your office. You can tell them I’m your bodyguard, your boyfriend, both, either, whatever. I don’t care how you explain…me, but you are stuck with me. And Harold? I don’t share. So, if you have anyone back in New York or Timbuktu thinking they can have you, you better keep them away from me, or better yet, send them packing.”

Oh my! John was looking at him with such a feral look it made him shiver. And he was willing to be possessed by the gorgeous man in more ways than one. “I would introduce you as my partner, or significant other, John. But, how about…boy–toy? But only in the bedroom.” he laughed.

“Fine with me, lover,” said John, in a low husky voice. “So, if you want to whisk me away–on your own plane no less–to New York, I’ll be ready to leave in fifteen.” He said and started stripping as he walked out of the kitchen.

Harold followed John to another room, transfixed on the wide back, muscles shifting under all that exposed tanned skin, as John took off his t-shirt, then the jeans and dropped them into a hamper. And, oh god, John was not wearing any underwear and he felt himself getting hard, gazing at those tight glutes, and long legs that went on forever.

“Like what you see, lover?” 

“Yes.”

“Well, we could delay your plane for another hour and go to the bedroom,” John turned to face Harold, showing that he was half-hard too. 

“I would really like that, but the limo and Dennis are overdue by two hours, so you’ll have to wait, to get me into that big bed of yours, till we come back.”

“Harold? I’ve never shared that bed with anyone.” He said, softly.

“Oh, John! You constantly surprise me.”

John started talking while dressing. “I haven’t had a personal relationship with either sex since I got into the escort service and I never brought work to my home. I used to have a girlfriend when I was in the Army. I was with her when 9/11 happened; we saw it on TV. They recalled everyone on leave that day and I re-enlisted. I didn’t ask her to wait for me because I wasn’t sure that I would come back–and I almost didn’t. Anyway, long story short, she didn’t, then died. I hit the bottle, and you know the rest.”

“I’m sorry that happened, John.” 

“It’s in the past, Harold. A hazy dream from twelve years ago, and I’ve lived a different life for ten. This is the start of a new chapter in my life. I’m ready…oh wait, I have to call the vet center, no, I can do that on our way, so, yeah I’m ready to go. If I missed packing something I’ll make sure to take your little gold card and go buy it in New York.” he said, looking sideways at Harold, and cracking up when Harold just nodded.

“What?” said Harold when John started laughing.

“Were you listening to me?”

“I was at the beginning…John? Vet center…”

“Ahh, you focused on that, instead of me taking your gold card and going shopping in New York, huh?”

“You can have the card and do whatever you want with it. Please, explain…vet center, what, you work with animals too?”

“I wouldn’t mind, but no. I volunteer at the Veteran's center.”

“Oh my goodness. Any more surprises?”

“Um, let me see…handing out condoms and hygiene products on the Boulevard, the vet center, Joan and the wearhouse. No, that’s all.”

“That’s why you had a backpack full of…Well, you do keep busy, don’t you? And I see how my life will be from now on. Not only will I have my own philanthropic charities, but I expect along with yours, will keep us busy outside the realm of taking care of any actual business dealings. Thank goodness I’m a billionaire and not a millionaire, we won’t be broke for, oh, maybe 50–no, make that about a 100 years,” he said, looking at John, with an innocent look.

John was stupefied and didn’t know what to say except, “Did–did you say billionaire?”

“Yes, come along, John. The plane is waiting.” Pulling John along. And still had not said a word, even during the limo ride all the way to the airport. Harold didn’t mind, because John had been holding his hand since they left the apartment and had yet to let go.

When they stopped by the slick silver plane waiting at the gate for them, Harold thanked Dennis profusely, not only for his service but for his patience, tipped him, and turned to John standing next to him, still quiet, but looking at him with a warm, loving look in his eyes.

John cleared his throat and ran a gentle finger down Harold’s cheek. “Thank you for giving me the chance at a fairytale life with you, Harold.” 

“Thank you, John, for loving me…lucky me,” he said with a playful grin.

“I guess, since you are a billionaire you don’t really need the donation letter the Veteran’s center will send you for 9,000, will you?”

“Why would…John, what have you done?”

“Um, gave most of the money you gave me, away?” he said, his turn to look innocent. “What? They need the money more than me.”

“Why didn’t you make it in your name instead…John? Are we having our first…couple’s argument?” Harold asked, more intrigued than upset.

“Yep. But, I’ve heard that makeup sex is the best.” John whispered in Harold’s ear. They both laughed and climbed into the plane.

***

While there were no white knights on noble steeds galloping into the horizon, there were two happy men, kissing, while soaring in their sleek silver plane above the white, fluffy clouds and the sun shining brightly. They were starting their fairytale life, uniquely their own, and all because of a chance encounter between the billionaire and the escort.

The end.