Exposed

Exposed 35

It had been nearly two weeks since Brock's injury, a hard two weeks for Brock, and also for James. Brock had an amazing ability to ignore pain, so he was always pushing the limits when it came to physical activity. If the trainer told him to walk, Brock jogged. If the trainer told Brock to jog, he ran. And, if the trainer said he could run, well.... It was only James who realized just how much pain Brock felt at times. Brock would smile and be ready to get back on the field when around the team, in class, or just joking around with the guys. However, the minute their dorm room door closed, and it was just him and James, Brock dropped the act and James saw the pain in Brock's face, the hang of his body, and most of all in his emotions. It was hard work being a hero, and Brock was physically and emotionally drained.

At first, James thought about telling Brock to stop pretending that he was fine, that it was okay to be hurt. But then James realized how much being the `Iron Man' was important to Brock's self-image. Plus, James was honored that he was the only person Brock felt safe enough with to let see his pain.

There were two bright spots in Brock being out of the game: first, he not only caught up in all his classes, he actually got ahead; and second, he could go to all of James' tennis meets. James was on fire. He was walking through the number-one singles like a saber cuts through fog. Also, he and Tristan were undefeated in doubles and the two had become good friends. Most of the time James was easygoing, funny, and gracious. One of James' opponents smiled and said when they met at center court after the game, "I've never had so much fun while having my ass kicked as I did today."

The only time in a match James was ever less than a model of sportsmanship was when one player started taunting Tristan with comments like "Beck, I see you've found a partner that can finally carry your sorry ass," and "I heard Spangler agreed to partner with you only if you agreed to suck his cock." Douglas Longstreet was a crude asshole who wasn't nearly as good of a tennis player as he thought he was, so James decided it was time to teach him a lesson. James' opportunity came two games later when Longstreet's partner hit a weak lob and set up a perfect forehand smash into Longstreet's junk. The match took a fifteen-minute break. When they walked back onto the court James said, "Hey Dougie, sorry about that. I hope I didn't give you a concussion." Tristan heard what James said and was trying so hard not to laugh that he served a ball into the net.

For Brock, every one of James' wins was an excuse for celebration sex. That's not to say Brock ever needed an excuse for sex. This was the first time since he and Brock had been together that James experienced Brock when he wasn't playing a sport or in the gym getting ready for the next sport. Without a workout plan, Brock had to find a way to burn off the extra energy, and ... well, James wasn't complaining.

However, Brock had a doctor's appointment the following Monday, and he hoped to get the green light to play the rest of the season. By Thursday, Brock was climbing the walls and driving James and everyone else crazy. What Brock needed was a distraction. James walked down the hall to Mr. Gregg's apartment and knocked. When Gregg answered, he was dressed the way James had always imagined Gregg would look after hours. He was wearing blue pajamas with white pinstripes, a long, blue robe, and bright red bunny slippers. No doubt the slippers were some gag gift from a fellow faculty member, but they were obviously warm, comfortable, and eccentric. Gregg's reading glasses were propped absentmindedly on top of his head, and in one hand he held his cane and the other a glass of Scotch.

"James, come in," Gregg said. "Have a seat." Gregg then walked over to a sideboard table, poured a glass of Scotch, and handed it to James. This wasn't the first time Gregg had poured James a drink and he wasn't sure whether Gregg was forgetting James wasn't of drinking age, or that he just didn't give a fuck about it. James suspected it was a bit of both.

When Gregg sat down, he said, "So, what brings you to my door this evening?"

"Well, two things. First, we need to get Brock some additional rib protection so he can play if the doctor clears him. Second, Brock is going stir crazy and I thought a..."

Gregg smiled and said, "You thought a weekend in Boston would distract him." James nodded, and then Gregg said, "Mr. Pierce, I think we can help each other out. The Boston University orchestra and choir are performing at Boston's Symphony Hall. I'm a BU alum, and would very much appreciate being able to attend that concert."

James nodded and said, "I just hope you won't mind some company at the concert."

"I would love some company," Gregg said.

James took out his phone and called the Pierce International Executive Concierge Office. The person answering the phone said, "Good evening Mr. Pierce, you're speaking to Ms. Trent. How may I help you?"

James was concerned and asked, "Axella, is everything alright? Why are you still at the office, and why are you speaking so formally?"

There was a small chuckle, and then the voice said, "Sorry, Mr. Pierce. Axella is my mother. I'm Judy Trent, and I just started working in the Executive Concierge Office three weeks ago. So, we haven't formally met--at least we haven't met as adults."

James said, "I still don't feel like an adult most days, but I do remember meeting you at several company functions. I'm glad there will still be a Trent on the executive floor when your mother retires."

"Thank you, now how can I help you, Mr. Pierce?"

"Please call me James."

There was a pause then Judy said, "I think I'd better discuss that with my mother."

"Yeah," James said, "Regardless of the names on the doors, she is the real boss on the 67th and 68th floors. So let me tell you what I need." James told her he needed five tickets for the BU concert, reservations for dinner Saturday night, and three hotel rooms.

When James finished and hung up, Gregg asked, "Why three hotel rooms? I'm sure Michael and I could share a room."

"True," James said, "However I think the holder of the 5th ticket might find that a bit awkward."

Gregg looked confused for a second then, smiled and said, "Yes, she probably would."

After saying good night to Mr. Gregg, James went to tell Michael about the weekend in Boston. Michael seemed a bit bummed... that was until James mentioned the 5th ticket and his "private room."

Next, it was off to tell Brock. When he got back to the room, Brock was in a mopey mood. The lacrosse team would be playing Adams Prep the next day and he would miss playing in another game. Brock was a loyal Trojan and stood on the sidelines and cheered his heart out, but it was tough. "Okay buddy, get a bag packed," James said.

"What for?"

"Because after the game tomorrow, we're going to, and staying in Boston for the weekend."

"Why?" Brock asked.

"First, because we need to get you some better rib protection so you can play when the Doctor clears you. Second, we're taking Mr. Gregg to a BU orchestra and choir concert. And, before you go whining about putting on a suit, just remember how many times he's saved our asses this year. Finally, I think we need to give this poor old bed a few days rest."

Brock was all smiles, and James didn't know whether it was because of the weekend away from Mill Brook, or because James seemed more certain that he would be released to play. Whatever the reason, James was glad to see a real smile on Brock's face and couldn't resist kissing him.

On Friday, Brock rode to the game on the team bus. James, Mr. Gregg, Michael, and his new girl Kendra drove down after James' last class. Michael had dated several women after he and the cheater broke up, but none seemed to click. James thought it was because Michael was a little older and searching for a life partner, and the girls he saw were young and not ready to settle down. However, Kendra seemed different, more mature. While younger than Michael, it was only by three or four years. She was a music teacher and really liked kids and wanted some of her own. James knew that was important to Michael.

So, while Michael and Kendra flirted in the front of the SUV, James and Mr. Gregg sat in the back, talked business, and tried to ignore the lovesick puppies in the front seats. At first, James and Mr. Gregg talked about the plans for the Trojan Wars. "I wish you, Brock, Kip, and Lance were on the Trojan Wars' planning committee," Gregg said. "The guys on the committee are good boys, but they're not leaders. During my time at Mill Brook, I've gotten pretty good at telling which boys will be the CEOs and which will be the vice presidents."

"So, am I a CEO or a vice president?" James asked.

"Neither," Gregg said, "You are something very rare at Mill Brook. You are Plato's Philosopher-King. You know how to get things done, but you also do them for the right reasons. One of the characteristics of a Philosopher-King is that he or she doesn't want to rule, and I have never seen anyone dragged to wealth and power more reluctantly than you. Also, the Philosopher-King has an unalienable passion for and love of truth and wisdom. I see that in you. You want to know and understand everything, including yourself."

James sat thinking for a bit then he asked, "So, what is Brock?"

"He's a poet."

"Wait, didn't Plato say in `The Republic' that we should kill all the poets?"

"No, Plato said we should exile all the Poets."

"Isn't that just as bad?" James asked.

"No, because later Plato said the poets could be invited back if they could prove their worth. What Plato objected to was focusing on the sensual world to the exclusion of the ideal world. Remember, Plato was all about abstract ideals, not their imperfect imitations. Plato felt the poets were corrupters of the youth because they focused on emotion and pleasure. Even if I thought Plato was correct about poets, it wouldn't apply to you and Brock, because I'm certain you have already corrupted each other beyond repair or redemption. Exiling him now would serve no purpose."

James laughed and Gregg continued, "As for the usefulness of poets, I'm with the Irish. An old Irish proverb says, `Don't kill the poets, because the poets have to be left to tell the story.' In Brock's case, I'm certain that he will not only tell your story but will be an essential part of the story. Separately, each of you can do good things; together you will do great things."

There was a long period of silence then Gregg said, "Hell, what do I know? I'm just an old actor playing the part of a wise old sage."

"A part that was written for you," James said then hugged Mr. Gregg.

Adams Prep was actually located in Quincy, Massachusetts, one of Boston's suburbs. Quincy was the birthplace of John Adams, John Quincy Adams, and John Hancock and was named for Colonel John Quincy, Abigail Adams' maternal grandfather. The Adams Prep mascot was The Patriots. The town of Quincy takes its Early American roots seriously.

When Michael found a spot to park the SUV, James said, "You guys don't have to stay for the game. You can go do something else and then come back to get Brock and me."

"Don't be silly," Gregg said, "I'm not leaving you in enemy territory all alone. Besides, when I found out we were going to be here for the game, I called an old friend who teaches here, and we made a friendly bet. I want to be here to collect."

"And I'm not letting you out of my sight," Michael said. "The last time that happened, you ended up in a bar fight."

Kendra said, "I'm with Mikey."

"Mikey," James said, "I like that. I've got too many Michaels to keep track of."

"Sure, JIMMY," Michael said. "You go right ahead and call me that."

James laughed and said, "I understand."

"If you want, I wouldn't object to you calling me Mike. That's what my family and friends call me."

"I like that, Mike," James said.

"So, Mr. Gregg, what do your friends call you," Michael asked.

"Gregg, or Jack Ass," Gregg said totally deadpan.

James laughed. He was one of the few people at Mill Brook who knew Mr. Gregg's real full name: Franklin Oliver Gregg. He hated that people thought it was okay to shorten his name to Frank or Ollie. So, legally he went by F. O. Gregg, and his stage name was Carter Fog. Carter was his mother's last name, and Fog was a riff on his initials.

There were only a few Trojan fans in the visitor's stands, so it was easy for Brock, Kip, and Weston to spot James and the gang. Once the game started, it was clear it would be another nail-biter. The Trojans were down by two going into the half. In the second half, the Trojan defense stiffened, but goals were hard to come by. Finally, with 30 seconds on the clock, Weston got an opening and fired the ball into the back of the goal to tie the game.

During the break between regulation and overtime, Brock stood between Kip and Weston with his arms over their shoulders. It was like he was trying to feed his teammates his energy, to recharge them for the final push. James didn't know if some secret jock magic actually let Brock rejuvenate his friend's energy, but he certainly restored their will and determination.

When the ref blew the whistle to start the overtime, Weston and his opposite locked like two bulls fighting for dominance. Finally, Weston won control and flipped the ball to Kip. Kip faked right then left to gain separation from the Patriot player guarding him. A second defender tried to intercept Kip, but he ran over the poor guy, leaving him on the ground like so much roadkill. As Kip closed on the goal two Patriot goons hit him hard in a collision that seemed to shake the ground. The three fell into a twisted heap, and there was a gasp from both teams and their fans. Then the Mill Brook sidelines erupted in celebration. A split second before he was clobbered, Kip saw Weston wide open on the other side of the field and somehow managed to get him the ball. With the Patriots' defense in disarray, it was Weston one-on-one with the Patriots' goalie. The result was an emphatic goal to end the game.

The second the ref blew the whistle to signal the end of the game, Brock and Weston sprinted to see how badly Kip was hurt. When they got to his side, he looked up at Weston and asked, "Did you score?"

"Sure did," Weston said.

"That's good because my tank is empty," Kip said.

When Brock and Weston got Kip to his feet, there was a loud cheer from the team and Trojan fans. The team couldn't afford to lose another senior captain.

Brock wouldn't get in the car to go to the hotel until Kip was loaded onto the bus and headed back to Mill Brook. Some guys would have been jealous of their lovers' devotion to someone other than them, and three months earlier, James would have been among them. However, James had come to understand what it was to have brothers by bond, if not by blood. Kip, Weston, Lance, and now Tristan had all become James' family, his brothers.

When the Mill Brook bus pulled out of the parking lot, James said, "I'm hungry where do you want to eat?"

Mr. Gregg said, "The Hot Pot Buffet."

"Well, the Hot Pot Buffet it is," James said.

The Hot Pot served traditional Chinese dishes and was just a stone's throw from the archway or gate to Boston's Chinatown. The Hot Pot wasn't a buffet in the way most Americans would understand a buffet. There weren't long warming tables filled with pans containing a variety of dishes. Instead, it was more like what people from the heartland would think of as "all-you-can-eat family style"; except instead of fried chicken or catfish, it was Chinese dishes.

The Hot Pot was open late, so it was where Mr. Gregg would often meet friends after a show or concert. The boys at Mill Brook thought of Mr. Gregg as a lonely, boring old geezer, again part of his act; but James knew that Gregg had a very robust social and culturally rich life off campus on weekends. While he didn't have any hard evidence to prove it, James was pretty sure that Gregg still had an active sex life, although with which gender he wasn't sure. James would not have been surprised to find out that Gregg's sexual past had as many varied dishes as what Gregg ordered for their meal. While James wouldn't reorder everything Gregg had ordered, he tried them all and liked some of them very much.

James grew up around art, going to the symphony and theater. He traveled with his parents, grandparents, and aunt to many places in the U.S. and around the world. However, aside from Aunt Sydney, no one had the depth or interest to educate him about what he was experiencing. Like many in the industrial-rich class, his family patronized the arts for P.R., to professionally or socially network, or for tax right-offs and investments. Mr. Gregg was different; he loved the arts and could teach James and Brock to appreciate them as well. Aside from representing Pierce International on various arts and cultural committees, James wanted to continue the cultural education he was getting at Mill Brook working beside Mr. Gregg in the library. Being forced to work in the library as part of the `Devil's Bargain' was another thing James wouldn't be able the thank his father for.

After dinner, it was off to the Seaport Hotel. When they arrived, they were greeted by an associate manager, a porter, and a valet. The associate manager welcomed them to the Seaport, gave them the keys cards to the rooms, and asked if they needed anything else. When they said no, she escorted them to the VIP elevator and said goodnight.

When the group got out of the elevator, James said, "Mike can I speak with you for a minute?"

Mike gave Kendra a kiss, and when they were alone, said, "What's up boss?"

"Maybe I'm being a bit paranoid, but how did the reception service know we were arriving?'

"It's a part of the monitoring service on the company phones that is currently being tested."

"I'm not sure I like that my phone can let people know when I'm arriving," James said with concern.

"It doesn't," Mike said. "My phone lets them know when I'm arriving."

James got a puzzled look on his face.

"We don't tell anyone when you or any of our other clients are arriving. The app is on my phone so we can minimize the amount of time we have to wait in public spaces and so my associates know when we're arriving. Right now, it's only in testing and with a limited number of hotels, restaurants, and venues."

"I see," James said. "When I get the VIP treatment, I just feel like a line jumper while everyone else has to wait their turn."

"Actually, one of the reasons we're looking into this technology is to protect everyone else. If someone tries to abduct one of our clients, innocent bystanders will likely get hurt. So, by removing our clients from those situations, we're making it safer for everyone."

"I guess I buy that explanation. So how many other security "enhancements" have you installed on my phone, your phone, or Brock's phone without telling me?"

"Do you really want to know that?" Mike asked.

"No, I guess not. I just don't want someone turning on the cameras on our phones to see what we're doing."

Mike laughed, "They won't; however, you might be careful what you are snapping pictures of or recording on your phones."

James blushed and asked, "REALLY!?"

"Yes really. We don't look, and I don't know what you and Brock have taken pics of, but just be aware that we're the good guys. There are plenty of bad guys that would love to see if there's anything on your phone they can use to hurt you, each other, or the company."

When James got to the room, he and Brock spent thirty minutes dumping photos and texts. When they were finished, Brock asked, "What would you do if someone got a picture of you, you know naked?"

"I think if someone else shot the picture, I wouldn't be too bothered by it. I would feel stupid if I shot the picture and let it get into the public domain. I'm not ashamed of my body. In fact, since we started working out together, I'm pretty proud of how I look."

"Yeah, I'm sure it helps having a big cock," Brock said.

James kissed Brock, and said, "If I could choose only one thing to take back, it would be that stupid comment about the size of your penis. I love your cock. It's a Goldilocks cock because "It's just right." James pushed Brock back on the bed and began loosening his belt.

The next morning, James was up early. As he was getting out of bed, Brock grabbed his arm and pulled him back. "Where are you going," Brock said. "Last night was amazing and I want some more."

James kissed Brock and said, "Yes, last night was amazing, and tonight will be even better, but I'm headed for the pool. I had Axella arrange some private time in the spa's lap pool. If you want, you can join me. Oh, by the way, I will be swimming naked." It didn't take Brock long to jump out of bed.

There was too much going on in his life, and James felt fragmented. He also knew things would only worsen when he started at Columbia. As he swam, James began to realize that he simply was taking on too much, and if he didn't throw some of the balls he was juggling to someone else, he was going to lose them all. Around the sixth lap, it became clear what he had to do. He had to hire a personal assistant.

Brock finally decided to join James; first, because he wanted to see how his side felt when he extended his arms forward; second, because he couldn't resist a chance to go skinny dipping. Brock was surprised at how good his side felt. Well, good wasn't the best description; it just wasn't as sore as he'd feared it would be. He suddenly had more hope that he'd be cleared to play.

After James finished his workout, he and Brock climbed into the hot tub. Brock asked, "So how much did you have to shell out so we could swim naked?"

"Nothing," James said.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing, this was a gift from Aunt Sydney. She's one of the investors and on the board of directors of the group that owns this hotel and several others. When she was living in London and not involved in Pierce International, she decided to create a portfolio independent of the company. She told me that one of the things she knew something about was travel and hotels. When I asked her why she and Mom decided to put me in charge of Pierce International's resort and entertainment division rather than doing it herself, she said it would be a conflict of interest since the companies she was invested in competed with Pierce International's holdings."

After a 20-minute soak, James said their private time was up, so they either had to put on swimsuits or go back up to the room. They decided to slip on some robes and take the VIP elevator up to their suite. On the way out of the spa, James slipped the young man who'd opened the pool early for them a couple of hundred dollar bills. James was still figuring out what to tip for `special service;' but he knew the guy lost a couple of hours of sleep, and there were plenty of times James would have paid a lot for a couple more hours in bed, if not always asleep.

When they got back into the room, Brock said he was going to call Kip to find out how he was feeling, so James jumped into the shower. He was just blowing his hair dry when Brock finished his call and walked into the bathroom.

"Aww babe, I was hoping for a little shower play this morning," Brock said.

"Sorry buddy, you're just going to have to play with yourself."

"That's no fun."

"I'm sure it's still a little fun," James said then slapped Brock on his bare ass.

Brock jumped and said, "Oh, so that's what you're into this morning."

James raised his hand as if to spank Brock again, then said, "Maybe both your butt cheeks need to be fire engine red before you get the message." Brock quickly jumped into the shower.

James was just tucking in his shirt when there was a knock at the door, it was Mr. Gregg.

"What's up?" James asked.

"I'm just letting you know that some old friends heard I was in town and invited me over for brunch, so I probably won't see you until it's time to leave for the concert."

"Do you need a ride?"

"No," Gregg said, "my friends are picking me up in thirty minutes, and...."

Gregg was stopped in mid-sentence when Brock walked into the suite's living room totally naked except for the towel he was using to dry his hair. The towel also prevented Brock from seeing anything but the floor right in front of his feet. Brock said, "You know babe, classical music always makes me horny."

"Me too," Gregg said.

Brook ripped the towel off his head, saw Mr. Gregg, blushed strawberry red, then ran back into the bedroom and closed the door. James couldn't stop laughing, and he wondered if Brock would ever be able to look at Gregg again without blushing. James and Gregg finished up making plans for the day, and then Gregg went down to the lobby to wait for his friends. When Gregg was gone, James walked into the bedroom and found Brock sitting naked on the bed with his head in his hands.

"I don't think I'll ever get hard again," Brock moaned.

James chuckled and said, "I know that's not true. Besides, it could have been worse. I could have been talking to your mother, or Pickles."

"Damn, are you trying to give me erectile dysfunction?"

"I know what will get you hard."

"What's that?" Brock asked looking out of the corner of his eye.

"A trip to the sporting goods store. That's like a jock porn shop."

"They are kinda sexy," Brock said with a small smile returning to the corner of his mouth.

"You can stop right there," James said, "I'm not, repeat, not giving you a blow job in the changing rooms."

"Spoilsport."

"Just get dressed so we can go get something to eat, and then get you some rib protection. Unless of course, you don't want to play in the next game."

Brock was up in a flash and getting dressed. Mike and Kendra were waiting in the lobby when the boys got off the elevator. "So, did you find a good place to eat breakfast?" James asked.

"According to the doorman, Pete's Dockside is pretty good and not far from here."

"That sounds great," James said.

"Pete's Dockside was never going to be on any tourist guide to Boston. It was in a warehouse district and its normal clientele were blue-collar workers and truck drivers. However, it was also the kind of place to take two hungry 18-year-olds. The food was tasty, hearty, and the helpings were large.

After breakfast, it was off to Weymouth and Lacrosse Unlimited. James had done his homework and found that Lacrosse Unlimited provided equipment for several of the best college programs in the country, and James figured they would have what Brock needed. When Brock walked into the store, he was like a kid in a candy store. There aren't a lot of lacrosse-only stores. In most sporting goods stores, lacrosse equipment doesn't take up a lot of the retail space.

Brock made a beeline to the sticks. It wasn't long before one of the sales associates asked James if he was looking for equipment, and James almost choked trying not to laugh. He said, "Not me... unless you've got some tennis rackets stashed somewhere. However, the big guy drooling over the sticks needs some rib protection."

"I can take care of that. By the way, my name is Adam."

"I think I talked with you a couple of days ago. I'm James."

"Yeah, I remember you. If I remember right, you were calling for your roommate. Is that him?"

James nodded and motioned for Brock to come over.

"This place is great. They've got all the best brands," Brock said.

"Thanks," Adam said. "We think we're the premier lacrosse stores in the country. So, your friend says you need some rib protection."

"Yep, I took a cheap shot a couple of weeks ago and I see the doctor on Monday to see if I can get back in the game. However, he's not going to clear me to play without rib protection."

"Then I guess we better show you some pads."

Brock tried on several different models but wasn't satisfied with any of them. Then Adam said, "We do have one other option, but it's pretty pricey. It's based on the type of rib protection the NFL uses when a quarterback has a rib injury. Let me get it and you can see what you think."

When Brock put the pads on, the look on his face instantly told James that was the one he wanted. However, when Brock saw the price, he chose one of the other rib protectors. James was getting ready to say he'd buy the pads Brock wanted, but Brock shot him a look that said, `Back off.'

As they left the store, Brock said, "Thanks."

James simply said, "I understand."

If James had a problem with money, it was because he didn't understand how he could sometimes make Brock feel when he would pull out his Chase Safire or American Express Platinum cards and pay for something without thinking. As many times as James assured him they were equals in the relationship, Brock couldn't help feeling like a sugar baby sometimes, a feeling made worse by his natural preference for the bottom in bed.

James didn't know just how much it affected Brock when he bought stuff for him without thinking about how much it cost or how Brock would feel getting gifts that he would never be able to reciprocate. It wasn't until Kip showed up one morning to breakfast with a black eye that James even got a clue about how Brock was feeling.

James and Brock had been boyfriends for about a month-and-a-half when out of the blue James gave Brock an iWatch to celebrate their "6-week anniversary." When Kip saw it, he whistled and said, "Damn, I need to find me a sugar daddy." Brock lost it and punched his best friend. When he realized what he had done, Brock broke down and cried like a little kid. Kip ended up holding and consoling Brock for at least an hour.

After that James and Brock had a long talk about money, relationships, and equality. Brock said he knew he would never have the kind of money that James did, and he was okay with that, but what bothered him was "feeling like the girl." At first, James thought he was being ridiculous and stereotypical, but he began to realize how it would hurt a guy like Brock's ego. It also helped when James talked to Sydney.

Between college and her reconnection with Julia, Sydney had mostly dated men, young, good-looking men. Very few of them had a lot of money, and none had the kind of money she did. She told James that it was about two or three months into a relationship that the difference in economics would start to create issues. "Some guys," Sydney said, "were perfectly happy to sit back and let me pay for everything. I didn't mind doing that, but when they expected me to support them so they could quit their jobs or school and live off me, I couldn't deal with that. I wanted a partner, not a gigolo. Other guys couldn't handle that I had more money than they did. They felt emasculated when I paid for our dates or bought them expensive presents. In the end, things didn't work out most of the time."

"Are all guys like that?" James said.

"No," replied Sydney, "I met two perfect, well near perfect guys. One was a captain in the British army. He was a man's man and didn't give a rat's ass about my money. His self-image was defined by his career in the military. He was all about Queen and country. Unfortunately for me, that's what got him killed in Iraq six months before we were set to announce our engagement. The other guy was Rex."

"My Au Pair!" James said.

"Before he was your Au Pair, he was my personal assistant," Sydney said. "I hired him while he was in college, and if I had had a penis, he would be your uncle. Look, James, what I'm telling you is that I think you've found the guy, but you have to talk about things like money and how Brock feels about your money, and how you feel about money. Money doesn't make a relationship, but it can sure destroy it. For most people, it's because they don't have enough money; in our case, it's having too much. I know the average Joe would think I'm whiney and crazy for saying money is a liability, but when it comes to the heart, it can be. There is a reason why the gossip pages are full of divorce stories of the rich and famous."

After that talk with Sydney, James sat Brock down for a talk. "Look Brock, I don't know where our relationship is headed. This might be just a passing thing, but I feel it has a chance to be more, but only if we deal with how you feel about my money."

So that's what they did. They had a long, and sometimes awkward, discussion about money, power, and masculinity. What they decided was that, when they were doing things together, James could assume it was okay to pick up the check unless he and Brock had decided differently. When it came to birthdays, Christmas, and other celebrations, they would set a spending limit, and when it came to personal purchases, each would buy his own unless they otherwise agreed. It was this last rule that James almost broke with the rib protection.

After getting Brock his rib pad, they decided to walk around the historic center of Boston. Both James and Brock had done the history tours in middle and high school history classes, so now they wanted to explore what wasn't on the field trip itinerary. Around noon James asked if anyone was up for pizza, and Brock smiled and said, "Only if it's Galleria Umberto!"

"Of course," James said.

Mike and Kendra looked at each other with puzzled faces. The Paul Revere home and museum was on the edge of Boston's old Italian neighborhood and that's where Galleria Umberto was located. Since it was just a couple of blocks from the Revere Museum and sold amazing pizza by the slice, that was where Mill Brook's classes on field trips always ate in Boston. It was a working person's pizzeria, and lunch was always busy. So, there were strict instructions from the teachers about how to order: 1) Know what you want before you get in line. 2) State your order clearly 3) Don't ask for special orders 4) Have your cash in hand, because they didn't take cards. 5) Don't bother the regulars. In addition to coaching soccer, Coach Montoya was also Mill Brook's Athletic and Activities director, which meant he went on most field trips as an additional sponsor. Before becoming a teacher, Montoya had been an MP in the U.S. Army. He didn't tolerate misbehavior or disrespect for people he said, "worked for a living."

With their first bite, Mike and Kendra knew why Brock was so excited about going to Galleria Umberto. Pizza there was on an entirely different level. It was like it was as Italian as it got without getting on a plane. Brock got in line a couple of more times to get another slice. Finally, James said, "Save some room for cannolis."

Brock just smiled and said, "I can always make room for a cannoli."

Brock seemed to be in good spirits and if he was anxious about his doctor's appointment on Monday, he wasn't showing it.

While they ate, James asked Kendra how the job hunt was going. Mike and Kendra were getting serious, and she was going with them to Europe and then moving to New York. James wondered whether they were moving too fast, given Mike's recent ugly breakup; but then he thought, who was he to question whether anyone was moving too fast. After lunch, they just walked around old Boston enjoying the early Spring.

Eventually, they decided to head back to the hotel to get ready for the concert. Brock was wearing a charcoal grey suit with a black crew T-shirt to the concert. When he finished fixing his hair, he did a little spin, and asked, "How do I look?"

"It's not your best look, but I guess we can't have you showing up to the concert bare-assed naked."

Brock smiled and said, "I'll slip into that suit later tonight."

"Damn right you will," James said. "Now how do I look?"

James was wearing a tailored black suit and a white button-down shirt.

"Looking good," Brock said. Just let me fix your tie." Brock walked over to James, and before James realized what he was doing, Brock removed the tie and unbuttoned the top three buttons of James' shirt. Then said, "Yeah that's much sexier."

James re-buttoned the third button and said, "Two is sexy enough. I don't want anyone to mistake me for a gigolo."

Brock kissed James and said, "If anyone is the gigolo in this relationship, it's me and tonight I intend to earn my keep."

"Fuck, now I'm going to have a boner all through the concert," James said.

"You know, I could take care of it at intermission."

"Hell no, the last thing I want to explain to my mother is why someone snapped a picture of me coming out of a restroom at Boston's Symphony Hall with cum streaks on my black suit."

Brock laughed and said, "Shit, we are some horny, nasty fuckers."

"Yes, we are," James said, "Now let's get down to the lobby. You don't want to piss off Mr. Gregg by being late." At the mention of pissing off Mr. Gregg, Brock moved his hands to protect his crotch and said, "Let's get a move on it."

When James and Brock got off the elevator, they saw Mr. Gregg looking at his watch.

"Shit we're late," Brock said.

"No, we're not. We're actually three minutes early. Of course, Mr. Gregg still uses a windup watch, therefore he's not synced to Greenwich Mean Time. So, by Gregg Mean Time, you might be late."

"Why am I late, and not you?" Brock asked.

"Because he likes me; therefore, it's your fault. It's just simple logic."

"I swear, if that old man smashed my nuts again, I'm gonna...."

Brock was stopped mid-rant when Gregg, called out, "Mr. Pierce, Mr. Champlain, there you are Michael and his lovely friend will be down in a minute, I..."

"Is something wrong Mr. Gregg?" James asked.

"You're not wearing neckties," Gregg said perplexed.

"Yes," James said. "That's Brock's idea."

Gregg looked at Brock and said, "Mr. Champlain, I have always suspected you were a social anarchist, and now I'm sure of it."

James could feel Brock moving to get behind him, and out of cane reach. Gregg then smiled and said, "I like that. Here help me get this infernal tie from around my neck."

The concert was amazing, and no one seemed to respond to the music more than Brock. Before getting to know Brock James would have described Brock as a dumb, brutish jock who had the same appreciation for art and culture as the Vandals who sacked Rome. However, in the time they'd been together, James had seen a sensitive, sophisticated side of Brock that surprised him. Brock kept it hidden from his bro-jock teammates, but James felt honored that Brock was willing to share it with him.

When she made travel arrangements for James, Axella liked to surprise him with little extras. This time she had arranged for the limo driver to pick up a bottle of champagne and a White Chocolate Raspberry Truffle cheesecake from the Cheesecake Factory. So, after the concert, the five concert-goers rode around Boston eating cheesecake and drinking champagne.

When they finally got back to their room, it was after midnight, but Brock wasn't finished with the night. He kissed James and said, "Stand right here." Then he took a couple of steps back and began to slowly undress. Watching Brock remove his clothes was such a turn-on for James. When Brock finally slipped off his underwear and stood completely nude, James had to take a deep breath as he felt his cock stirring. After giving James plenty of time to take in the sight, Brock stepped closer and began to undress his lover. Being undressed was so sensual and occasionally Brock would stop to caress or kiss James' shoulder, neck, nipples, navel, or any other part of his body that needed kissing.

Eventually, James was also naked and it was Brock's turn to step back and admire his lover's fine body. Brock took almost as much pride in James' body as James did. He'd spent hours in the gym with James to sculpt his lover, not just for his own enjoyment and pleasure, but to complete the James Spangler Pierce persona. When James walked into a room, people noticed and most importantly James was becoming comfortable with being noticed.

James was still a horny teenage boy, and he enjoyed the thrill and excitement of wild, adventurous, rough-and-tumble sex. However, when Brock made tender sweet love to him, James knew this was the man he wanted to be with for the rest of his life. Nothing he'd experienced, not becoming the presumptive head of Pierce International, not winning a state championship, not even reconciling with his father, compared to falling in love with Brock Champlain.

The next morning, it was time to get back to Mill Brook. James and Brock had assignments to finish and turn in on Monday. It was a blessing that Brock had something to focus on other than his doctor's appointment. At supper, James, Brock, Kip, Lance, and Weston made plans to watch "Skyfall," While there was plenty of debate about who the best Bond was, the boys easily agreed that Daniel Craig was the most physically fit Bond.

Kip had been home on Saturday to celebrate his grandfather's 75th Birthday, and while there also picked up a couple of bottles of Jack Daniel's. "So, won't your grandfather miss these bottles?" Lance asked.

"Nah," Kip said, "Grandpa buys liquor then forgets he bought it and buys more. He's got so many bottles of liquor in his basement he could open a bar. Of course, I only take the cheap stuff. Sorry, about that James, I'm sure you're used to top shelf."

James laughed and said, "Hell no. My grandfather told me that you only drink the expensive stuff when someone is there to see you drink it. Also, I would have gotten my ass whooped if he'd ever seen me mixing Coke with anything other than Jack Daniels. According to him, Jack Daniels and Coca-Cola were made for each other."

"I think I would have liked your grandfather," Weston said.

"Yeah, but he wouldn't have liked you."

"Why" Because I'm black."

"No," James said, "Because you're Navy. He and his father were both in the Army. My great-grandfather was in the Army Air Corps during WW I. To his dying days, he claimed he was the one who shot down the Red Baron and not that Canadian guy. Although it was probably neither of them and instead some unknown machine gunner on the ground."

Weston asked, "Was your grandfather also a pilot?"

"No," James said, "He was assigned to Public Affairs with the United States European Command. He was there during the Berlin Crisis."

"That is so cool," Weston said. He must have had some great stories."

"He did," James said, "He recorded some of his Army experiences and I have listened to them. When I hear his voice it's like I'm a kid sitting on his lap and listening to him telling me stories again."

"Okay," Kip said, "I'm starting the movie in five minutes, so refill your drinks and drain your snakes--or Lance, in your case, your worm."

"Very NOT FUNNY!" Lance said.

Once the lights went out, James leaned against Brock who wrapped an arm around him. If anyone noticed, they didn't say anything. When the movie ended, James was asleep and Brock gently woke him, and said, "Come on buddy, let's get you to bed."

Once in their room, Brock undressed James and got him into bed. He then grabbed his phone and gave his parents a call. It was something he did every Sunday night. Nelson answered the phone.

"Hey Brock, how are you?"

"Dad, I'm worried about seeing the doctor tomorrow. I know I shouldn't be counting on him to clear me to play, but I want that so much."

"I know, son. Sports have always been your life, your passion, but you're more than just a jock. If the doctor doesn't clear you, you'll be disappointed, but you'll also be okay. I would be more concerned how you would handle not getting to play if James weren't there, but he won't let you mope around and wallow in self-pity."

"I know. When I think of everything he has gone through this year, it makes sitting out a few games of high school lacrosse seem pretty insignificant. James is a rock."

"Brock don't underestimate what you've done for James and his entire family. Your mother and I had dinner with James' mother and aunt last week. They couldn't say enough about how you helped James hold it together first with the drama at the company and then with the death of his father. All of us are so proud of how the two of you have supported, and sometimes carried, each other this year."

"Thanks, Dad, I sometimes wonder if I'm doing the right things, and it means a lot to get your approval. It always has. If I do anything thing good, it's because you and Mom taught me how to treat other people."

"Wow," Nelson said, "a lot of parents wait years to find out if their efforts to raise their children were appreciated. ... I'm getting all emotional. I need to go before I start crying like a little kid, Thank you. Your Mom and I love you and are so very proud you are our son."

"I love you and Mom too."

After saying goodbye, Brock stripped off his clothes and cuddled against James. His intentions were not sexual; he just needed to hold his best friend and the love of his life. As Brock slowly fell asleep the last thing he heard was a half-asleep James saying "I love you."

The next morning, Brock woke up first and kissed the back of James' neck. James rolled over, gave Brock a soft kiss on the lips, and said, "Good morning, stud. How did you sleep?"

"Very well. It's like I finally accepted that whatever the doctor tells me, it's beyond my ability to change or control."

"That's a good way to look at it," James said; however, he knew that if Brock didn't get released to play, it still would be a bitter pill to swallow.

Brock's appointment was at 10 o'clock, and he decided he didn't want to eat in the cafeteria. He knew he'd get a lot of guys saying things like they were rooting for him. However, as well-meaning as the comments would be, Brock wasn't wanting to be reminded about his appointment. So, Brock, James, and Michael went out for breakfast.

Michael was excited because Kendra received an email with a job offer and contract. It was for a music position in one of New York's private performing arts high schools. Michael said, "Kendra, wouldn't even consider the offer if we weren't going to be living together. It's a great job, but she couldn't live in Manhattan on what they will be paying her."

"So did you get the email from my mother about your apartment?" James asked.

"Yes," Michael said. "I can't believe that's the apartment you're renting for me?"

"First of all, you're going to have a pretty irregular work schedule while Brock and I are in college, so it only makes sense for you to be in the same apartment building. Second, it turns out there weren't any cockroach-infested studio apartments available within five blocks."

Michael laughed, and said, "I showed Kendra, the information the agent sent over about the apartment, and she was floored. Of course, she is all concerned about how we will be able to furnish it."

"What do you need besides a bed, a TV, and a couple of bean bag chairs?" Brock asked.

"Exactly," Michael said, "that's what I told her, and she said if that was going to be my attitude then maybe we should invest in two twin beds rather than a queen."

"I see," Brock said, "so what you're saying is she's already leading you around by your balls."

"Damn right," Michael said, "and I don't think either of you two have room to talk."

Brock and James both laughed.

When Dr. Mathers walked into the exam room, he asked Brock how he felt, and Brock said, "I'm not going to lie. If you jab me in the ribs it will hurt, but sitting here right now, I'm fine."

"How about when you take a deeper breath?" Mathers asked.

Brock inhaled a huge breath and let it out. Then he said, "See Doc."

"Okay, lift your shirt, and let's take a look at your ribs." When Brock lifted his shirt, Mathers said, "It looks much better. Are you able to run sprints?"

"Yeah," Brock said, "the first couple of times I couldn't go all out, but after that , I was able to go like 90 percent. I have also worked with my stick and I can shoot and pass."

"Did you get rib protection?"

Brock smiled and pulled the new pad out of his bag."

"Nice," Mathers said, "Go ahead and put it on so I can see how it fits." After Brock had it on, Mathers checked its fit and gave it a couple of hits with the palm of his hand while watching Brock's expression. Then he sat back and seemed to be deciding what to say next. Finally, he said, "If you take a hard shot, it's going to hurt like a son of a gun, but I don't think you're at risk of a serious re-injury. That new rib guard should distribute the impact. However, if I clear you to play, you must agree to some conditions.'

"Sure," Brock said.

"First, you will wear your rib protector for the rest of the season. Second, you listen to your body. If something doesn't feel right or the pain gets too much, you have to stop and get checked out. Can you do that?"

"I can do that," Brock said.

Mathers then looked at James and said, "I'm pretty sure he's bullshitting me, so I expect you to keep an eye on him."

James nodded and said, "You can count on me."

Mathers then looked at Brock and said, "Now him I trust. Let me sign the release and get you back in the game." Brock had an impossibly huge grin when Mathers handed him instructions for the trainer and his release to play.

That evening when Brock got back from practice, James was studying for his AP Literature exam. Brock was definitely sore and tired. "Do you need help in the shower?" James asked.

"I don't need it," Brock said, then added with a smile, " but I sure would appreciate it."

James smiled and pulled off his clothes and went to start the shower. It could take a while for the water to get warm. When Brock walked into the bathroom, James looked Brock over. "Not too bad," James said as he inspected Brock's ribs and then the rest of his body.

"No, Weston called a team meeting and said Kip and I are still recovering and therefore off limits as targets. Weston said if anyone didn't get the message they'd be joining him for post-practice one-on-one drills. One of the freshman players, Danny Masters, knocked me down, and he looked like he was going to shit himself when Weston came on a dead sprint."

"Shit," James said, "is the kid at the emergency room."

"No, I told Weston the kid was doing what he was supposed to do, and I needed someone to test me and make sure I'm ready to play. Danny played against me the rest of the practice and I taught him a few moves. He picked them up quickly and seemed to be a better player by the end of practice."

"Did you like coaching the kid?"

Brock thought for a second, then said, "You know, I did. I see what you get from working with the guppies. It feels good to help someone younger or less skilled become a better player. Is this another attempt to convince me that physical education and social work are what I should major in at Fordham?"

"Hey," James said, "I'm just saying, working with kids and coaching are two of your gifts, and I think they might be your calling."

"You could be right, but it's just such a different way to think about college and a career than I have been taught."

James kissed Brock and said, "There are lots of things you were taught about being a good Catholic, a good adult, and a good family man, that are different than who you are, than who we are. Are you still struggling to get your head around those as well?"

"Sure, at times," Brock said, "But I wouldn't give you up for anything. If there is one thing I know, I love you and want to spend my life with you."

James pulled Brock into the shower for some good clean gay-boy fun.

When the boys finally slipped into bed to sleep, James rolled close to Brock to use his chest as a pillow. For James, Brock's warmth and the steady beat of his heart were better than any anxiety medication he'd ever been prescribed. James couldn't remember when he slept better than when sharing a bed with Brock.

James was running his fingers over Brock's torso and said, "I think you've gotten more hairy."

"Is that a problem?" Brock asked.

"No, I kinda like the way it feels. Plus, it just increases your masculine appeal."

"Oh."

"It amazes me how much more manly your body has gotten since we've been together."

"It must be from all that testosterone you've been dumping in me," Brock said with a chuckle.

"Well, I'm just giving you a heads-up. You know when people see us together, they might think you're a pedophile."

Now Brock laughed and finally said, "I seriously doubt that. All they have to do is take one look at my goofy, shit-eating grin, and your serious all-business face, and they won't have any problem identifying who the daddy is in our relationship."

"Do you ever worry about us going to separate schools next year?" James asked.

"Just every fucking day," Brock said. "Columbia is crawling with hot guys, and the problem is a lot of them are way smarter than me. Honestly, I know you can do a lot better than me. So,..."

James crawled on top of Brock and kissed him.

"What was that for?" Brock asked.

"To shut you up. You were talking some crazy shit." James said. "Yes, there is a small chance I might run across some guy at Columbia who is almost as hot as you are, Stud. However, I'm pretty sure I won't run across anyone as smart as you."

Brock started to say something, and James put two fingers on his lips and then said, "I'm not talking academic smart, I'm talking heart smart. You just know what other people need, what I need. That's the kind of smarts I don't have, no one in my family does. Sure, if someone had a problem that can be solved with money, we're all there for them, but emotionally, we're morons."

Now it was Brock's turn to kiss James. When their lips finally parted James said, "I want you to know that my dream is to spend the rest of my life falling asleep in your arms and starting every morning kissing your lips."

"That's also my dream," Brock said as they drifted off to sleep.

I hope you're enjoying "Exposed."

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