Dog's Bark, Wolf's Bite Chapter 2
Border Wolves 4
Heed the Dog’s Bark; Beware the Wolf’s Bite
(A Border Wolves Adventure)
Copyright© 2021 – Nicholas Hall
Chapter Two
“In naked beauty more adorn’d
More lovely than Pandora”
(Milton)
Todd Johnson smiled, not only at the embarrassment of the young man answering his knock who quickly pulled his robe shut concealing what Todd thought was a little above average penis from view, but the sight of the circumcised cock bringing about a twitch, a chubbing, and twinge in his own! With nothing to conceal his man-piece or restrain an impending erection. since Todd tended to “go commando” (sans underwear), all he could do to attempt to control his sexual urge was to focus his mind (instead of “fuck me and call me horny”) and introduce himself explaining the reason for his early morning visit. Hopefully, from what he’d just witnessed, the occupant of the house was a “player” for further games later on – when acquainted better, perhaps.
“Excuse me, please!” Clay chattered quickly, apologizing for his state of undress and exposure, “just going to get dressed. I’m hardly decent to receive guests.”
He looked fairly decent as far as Todd was concerned! However, trying to be sociable and nonchalant at the same time, he continued to smile and nodded his understanding.
“No problem! I’ll wait!”
Todd thought about offering to assist the stranger with his dressing, perhaps tucking something in here or there which might be in need of some leisurely “tucking,” but again, discretion would be the better part of valor, but not as satisfying.
“How damned, fucking stupid can I be?” muttered Clay as he darted to the bedroom and began sorting out sweat pants and a sweat shirt to wear. He slipped on a sweat shirt and then stepped into some sweat pants and pulled them in place.
“Shit! Too Small and tight in the crotch,” he moaned, but left them on in his rush to head back to the porch.
His caller still stood, waiting patiently, and still smiling.
Todd’s eyes again slipped to the young man’s crotch, noting the tightness of the sweat pants and the outline of a cock, while he awaited some greeting or words from the young man in the sweats.
Clay looked over his young visitor, quite carefully this time, noting he wasn’t bad looking, about his own height and weight, slim with a runner’s build, and one hell of a smile! Clay could see those openly visible attributes of the stranger and found them not lacking in the least, but wondered what those attributes concealed in the jeans, especially the crotch, of his guest.
“I’m sorry,” Clay began, extending his hand in greeting, “I’m Clay St. Claire.”
“I’m the one who should apologize,” Todd responded, “for stopping by so early and without calling ahead of time. I’m Todd Johnson.”
He continued to hold Clay’s hand, “We live across the lake and up toward the public landing. Some friends of mine said they thought they saw some activity over here and, since I’m an early riser, thought I’d have a look.”
As he thought about it, it was a very nice look indeed!
Nearing the house, Todd thought he saw some movement on the porch, took a chance, pulled up to the dock, moored the boat, and walked up to the residence. When Clay walked out onto the porch from the main house, his robe hanging open, exposing a very nice, little larger than average cock, he wasn’t certain what to say or whether he should shake hands, grab the cock, or what. Clay solved his dilemma by darting back inside and dressing.
“Well,” Clay offered, “I’m about to have some more tea; want some or would you prefer coffee?”
“Coffee, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“No problem,” Clay responded, waving to Todd to follow him inside and to the kitchen.
“Decaf or regular?”
“Decaf, please, but you really don’t need to.”
Clay shrugged, “Won’t take but a minute,” popping a coffee pod into the automatic coffee and drink maker. He slipped a cup under the spout, put another tea bag in his own cup, and added hot water from the hotpot on the counter.
“Tea was the main drink while I was in school,” Clay explained, “so its habit with me; besides, I like it either hot or cold. I prefer the black English Breakfast tea with a dash of milk or cream when I drink it hot.”
“I take it,” Todd conjectured looking at the name ‘Falkham” emblazoned on the front of the sweatshirt and up one leg of the sweats, “you attended a private boarding school?”
“Yeah, Falkam Academy or some would outrageously pronounce it, “Fuck-em Academy. There were some, not me of course,” he said with a grin and a wink, “who’d cheer just before a soccer match or baseball game, you know our sports matches with other schools, ‘LET’S GO FUCK-EM’. There’d be an announcement the next day concerning our inappropriate behavior. Of course, we were all very contrite and did it the next time as well.”
Todd thought it was not only hilarious, but wondered what it would be like to “Let’s go fuck-em” especially the handsome, young Clay, now leaning back against the kitchen counter, hips slightly forward, his hidden treasures covered but discernable, as he awaited the coffee to brew and tea to steep.
“Coffee’s done!” Clay announced bringing a halt to Todd’s wandering mind and causing a slight deflation of Todd’s growing cock. “Black or cream?”
“A dash of cream, please!”
Clay grabbed a package of scones and a package of glazed donuts, indicated Todd should grab his cup of coffee and follow him to the porch. He put the bakery products on the table, sat down, inviting Todd to join him and help himself to the treats. Todd chose a glazed donut and Clay chose a scone.
“I haven’t had breakfast yet,” Clay revealed. “You?”
“Yeah, Mom fixed it when the little boys got up and were bouncing about.”
“You have younger brothers?”
“Three; actually, they’re my half-brothers. My mother remarried after my father died. I have three older brothers as well.”
“All at home?”
Laughing, Todd responded, “Thank god, not. The three little boys, one older brother, and I live at home. It’s somewhat crowded in the summer, but come fall, Carl, next oldest, will be back on campus in St. Paul. Kevin, the next oldest lives in Duluth and goes to college there, and Tony, the oldest, lives down in the Winona area. Carl works at Sutton’s during the summer as well as helping me with my lawn care business when I need it.”
Todd paused, hesitant to ask, but better to ask than guess.
“Speaking of lawn care, when will Mr. St. Claire be here so I can discuss the summer lawn care for Tanglewood with him?”
Clay set his tea cup down, cleared his throat nervously, and announced, “My grandfather and my grandmother died this past year.”
“Oh, my god! I’m so sorry to hear that,” Todd apologized, acknowledging the loss. “So, will your Dad and step-mother be coming to join you here? I remember Mrs. St. Claire saying, one time when visiting with me, your mother passed away and your dad remarried.”
Clay’s face hardened noticeably! Todd wondered now why he asked. The look on Clay’s face didn’t harbor good news, in fact anger!
“No, my father was killed in an attempted robbery in a parking ramp after they’d been out for dinner. His wife and I don’t, and never will, have a good relationship. The responsibility for Tanglewood is mine and my Uncle Bill’s, my guardian.”
Todd thought to change the conversation, but Clay ploughed on through what Todd later realized was some pretty heavy turf.
“My Uncle Bill, my grandfather’s younger brother, was named my guardian and trustee until I reach eighteen. That was decided when my father remarried. Really, the past three years have been one big cluster fuck!”
Clay didn’t know why, except Todd seemed easy to talk to and trustworthy, so he opened up, relating to Todd what happened. Clay spent some time, not much, describing his entry into Falkham Academy for Young Men, his migration to his grandparents, preferring them and their company to his parents, and how he came to love Tanglewood at an early age, spending the month of July each year here as his summer break.
Todd listened quietly while Clay described his father remarrying, his grandparent’s dissatisfaction with the union, the prenuptial agreement reserving the joint investments and other considerations to him, and the naming of his grandfather as guardian with Uncle Bill as successor-guardian.
“He was a wise and generous man,” Clay sighed sadly. “Knew what the hell I’d be up against being a gay boy and the attitudes of my father and his new wife. The first Christmas my father and his wife were married, she insisted I spend Christmas with them and not my grandparents. Reluctantly, I agreed, just, you know, go along to get along!”
Todd’s ears perked up when Clay came out to him, announcing he was gay. Stealing another glance at Clay’s crotch and the delectability hidden, but noticeable, under the cover of the sweat pants, Todd’s own cock began to swell again.
Clay flew into Des Moines, where his grandparents lived, and spent a couple of days with them. His visit with his grandfather, while there, was more than just their usual banter. He was cautioned to be wary of Bonnie’s motives, on guard against subterfuge concerning his future, or signing or agreeing to anything which might be proposed. His concern didn’t go unwarranted!
“She will be false on all fronts,” his grandfather warned, “but it won’t take long for her true nature to reveal itself or for her to lay out her intentions or goals concerning you and your future. If you feel uncomfortable or unsafe or are just damned sick and tired of the bullshit, call me! I’ll have someone there within a half hour to whisk you away and return you here, without anyone knowing you’re gone!”
Entering the main terminal waiting area, it wasn’t difficult for Clay to discern who was there to pick him up. Although never having met his two half-brothers until now, as they walked toward him, the resemblance to their father was unmistakable. Their facial features, hair color, and body structure was very much similar to his own, except they were older, more mature looking, and out of shape, so Clay thought. They were also less concerned about their personal appearance.
Younger, Clay was in much better physical shape. Falkham Academy had a rigorous and comprehensive physical education curriculum and extra-curricular sports program. Their offering for physical education classes included basketball, volleyball, baseball, softball, soccer, golf, tennis, archery, small arms, downhill and cross-country skiing, track, distance running, and wrestling, as well as martial arts training. Falkham subscribed to the belief a healthy and fit body led to a healthy and fit mind. Clay was on the fall golf team, tennis team, cross-country track team, and a field sports team which included small arms and archery.
“By the looks of these two,” Clay mused to himself as they walked toward him, “their sports were limited to elbow bending at bars and television sports, if any.”
“You Clay?” one asked sardonically.
Clay nodded.
The second one, with a jerk of his thumb, snorted, “The car’s this way!”
As Clay followed them to the parking area, he heard muttered comments concerning “the pussy boy,” “faggoty queer,” and comments concerning his cock size and how many times he’d been butt-fucked or whether he was just a cock-sucker.
“Going to be a long four days,” Clay thought.
In the car, the driver, turning to Clay in the back seat, “I’m Robert Lionel St. Claire. You can call be Bob.”
The other, turned also, announcing, “I’m Jonathon Randolph St. Claire. You can call me Jon.”
Nothing else discernable was heard by Clay, except there was some indistinguishable conversation between the two in the front seat.
At the house, Clay was met by his father and Bonnie and a very yippy, yappy, snapping small dog. It snarled at Clay and made a bee-line for his ankle. A bite was averted when Bob hollered at the dog which immediately stopped and headed behind Bonnie. It didn’t stop growling however.
“Welcome to our home,” Bonnie greeted pretentiously, acting as though this was the first time Clay was ever in the place. He had been many times, since this was his home until he was spirited away to boarding school. He didn’t feel it necessary to remind her since he figured she’d just carry on the charade no matter what.
“It’s going to be so nice for us to be together as a family for Christmas and for many more days to come!”
A warning flag popped up in Clay’s mind!
He dodged a hug, nodded to his father, who’d said nothing in greeting or acknowledgement, and inadvertently (so it would seem), slammed the snarly dog, seeing and opportunity to nip at Clay, alongside the head with his luggage bag.
Clay made no apology when Bonnie and her two off-spring scowled at him.
A butler relieved him of his baggage while Bonnie and his father, (minus the dog) insisted on showing him the Christmas tree and the living room all decorated for Christmas.
“Didn’t our decorator do the most marvelous job? I’m so glad I chose her!” Bonnie exclaimed seeking praise, not so much for the decorations but on her supposedly wise choice of decorators.
Clay looked at the gaudy, over-decorated tree, smiled and responded, “It’s certainly quite the Christmas Tree.”
In effect, he was commenting much like one would when viewing an extremely ugly baby, by saying, “My, my; what a baby!”
Clay was saved from further comments by the return of the butler informing him he’d be shown to his room now. There were several rooms on the second floor. He noticed, upon inquiry, the two brothers had rooms directly across the hall from each other. He was shown to a smaller room down the hall; a room originally designated to be his nursery room near a backstairs leading to the kitchen and the servant’s quarters. When he was just a babe and pre-school, it gave his nannie and others quick access to tend to his needs without disturbing the master and mistress of the house.
Before leaving Clay to sort out his clothes, the butler announced dinner would be at eight.
“Is it formal dress or casual?” asked Clay.
“Casual!”
Fortunately, the nursery was now remodeled into a small, but adequate bedroom with a double bed, dresser, night stand and light, and a fairly comfortable chair with a foot hassock. Clay left his luggage, unpacked on the bed, and seated himself in the chair, feet resting on the hassock. Something just didn’t seem right! His father didn’t greet him verbally, other than the curt nod of his head acknowledging his presence and Bonnie seemed or least to him, secretive, as if possessing some dark secret she was finding the right opportunity to reveal.
“Oh well,” he mused aloud, “dinner,” looking at his watch, “in a half hour should be an interesting event.”
His father sat at one end of the dining table, Bonnie at the other, and across from him sat Bob and Jon. A maid and the butler served each of those seated a light lettuce salad, with several dressing choices, removed the empty salad dishes when all were done, and served the main entrée, grilled boneless ribeye steaks.
“We prefer our steaks prepared well-done,” Bonnie announced, clearly indicating that’s how Clay’s would be even if he preferred medium rare, “and French Fries rather than mashed potatoes or baked. We find them rather tasteless.”
Clay cut into his steak with the steak knife provided and noted it was indeed well-done. About the texture of grilled shoe leather, if he were to describe it.
Before he had the opportunity to taste the meat, Bonnie cleared her throat nervously, obviously to draw his attention. Turning toward her, he waited to hear what she had to see.
“Here comes the interesting part!” he thought.
“We’ve decided,” she began, “now you’re here, to remove you from that liberal, private school you’ve been attending. It’s expensive, doesn’t provide the type of education we think is appropriate for you, and does nothing to prepare you for the working world. We feel a good trade school, locally, would be a wiser choice since you’ll be living here full-time.”
Bonnie paused, evidently expecting some comment or argument from Clay. Clay continued to focus on her, remembering his grandfather’s advice to say nothing which might be construed to an agreement or acceptance of anything she might suggest.
Clay didn’t respond, although his piercing eyes seemed to discomfort her some, but Bonnie continued, “Since you’ll be living in our house, you will be meeting with a counselor on a regular basis to correct your deviant behaviors and beliefs.”
Again, he made no comment except to murmur something to himself in French.
“Did you say something to me, Clay?” Bonnie asked defensively.
“No, not really,” he responded. “I was just remembering the excellent academic and Fine Arts programs you feel are inadequate, the Academy offers, requiring each student to speak at least one foreign language and learn to play at least one instrument.”
Before Bonnie or Jon or Bob, could comment, he proceeded to begin making a long slice the length of the ribeye steak on the plate in front of him.
“In the vast offerings of basic and advance sciences required of all students at the Academy, the Advanced Biology Class I took, gave us the opportunity to dissect the cadavers of mice (slice), rats (slice), and cats (slice), but I didn’t have the chance to do a dog --- yet!” A wicked, but determined smile crossed his face, leaving no doubt in anyone’s mind he just might do poochie in as a lab experiment!
“In fact, I was so good, so proficient with the knife, the other students referred to me as Mr. Slice and Dice.” Again, he smiled, but this time at his two half-brothers.
Glancing at Bob and Jon, who stopped eating watching him use the knife in the manner a trapped rat might watch a cobra bob and weave its mesmerizing dance before striking the death blow, Clay, speaking more forcefully, and waggling the knife blade in his direction, reminded his father of past agreements.
“Perhaps, Daddy Dear,” he said condescendingly, pointing, instead of waggling the knife at his father, “your memory fades as you age. The entire cost of my education is paid for by an educational trust fund set up by you and Grandfather St. Claire when my mother, your first wife, died. It is controlled exclusively by Grandfather St. Claire including where I will attend school.”
“We mean to address that trust,” interrupted Bonnie. “My sons are deserving some of that wealth for their own education.”
“Wrong, Madam!” Clay responded turning his attention briefly toward the now very angry Bonnie St. Claire. “They deserve nothing more than they already have. And, you,” again facing his father, “should be reminded of the penalty clauses in that educational agreement you signed and the extreme financial and personal risk you take by even trying to alter or abolish it.”
“Now see here, young man!” his father shouted, uttering his first words since Clay arrived.
“No, I won’t ‘see here, young man,’” Clay spoke back and standing, using his best aristocratic voice, learned when in a play earlier in the year, and turning his attention to Bonnie, “Madam, I find your ultimatum abhorrent, the conversation at this table relevant only to the ignorance of those others present, and your company disagreeable to say the least.”
Bonnie sputtered, then stopped, when Clay, again waving the steak knife in her direction, stated very sincerely, “I find your little doggie barks too much and tends to bite. I would suggest,” he warned, slicing the knife through the air and flashing a thin-lipped threatening smile, “you control the little beast!”
Clay turned to walk away and heard chairs begin to slide back from the table. He turned quickly, seeing Jon and Bob begin to rise, and, with eyebrows raised, waggled the steak knife in their direction, commanded, with teeth clenched in anger and determination,
“Do – not- come any closer and do-not- bother me tonight!”
With that said, he turned again, and walked up the stairs to his room. Once there, he locked the door, shoved a chair under the doorknob, and called his grandfather.
“I was back in Des Moines by eight in the morning having breakfast with my grandparents.”
At one in the morning, he’d carried his luggage down the back stairs and out of the house to the street where a black SUV waited. The driver took him for a short ride to a small airport and he was flown by private plane to Des Moines. He was greatly relieved to be free of the tension and threats present in his father’s house.
“Holy shit!” Exclaimed Todd. “What did Bonnie and Clyde, I mean Clay, say about that?”
“Don’t know! I did leave them a couple of remembrances of my short visit however. You know, just to be nice and polite!”
“I’ll just bet you did,” snickered Todd. He didn’t know Clay very well, but he was beginning to get the feeling his new friend could be a bit of a prankster.
“Remember I told you about Bob and Jon having rooms directly across the hall from each other?
Todd nodded, wondering what was coming next.
“So, I tied two bed sheets together. Tied one end to one door knob and the other to the other door knob across the hall.”
“Got-cha!” laughed Todd. “The doors couldn’t be opened since they were pulling against each other. My god, that’s hilarious!”
“Well,” Clay said, tongue in cheek, “I just couldn’t let Bonnie and my father think I didn’t remember them at Christmas and how I enjoyed my visit, so I left them a Christmas card.”
“This doesn’t sound good to me,” mused Todd.
“I used a magic marker and on a large sheet of paper, I drew a few Holly branches, a snowman, and a small elf.”
“What did it say on the card?”
“Ho, Ho, Ho, and a Merry Fucking Christmas to you too!”
To be continued:
***
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Nick Hall
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or locales is entirely coincidental or used in a fictional content.
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