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Ian's Extra Credit - Chapter 14
Monday, Monday, can't trust that day.
Far too much shit on my mind today to deal with school but, although I was considering skipping today, I have to be there with my boys. We had a light breakfast. None of us is very hungry this morning.
We pull up in the parking lot. Ian's car immediately attracts attention. A small crowd begins to gather, keeping a polite distance but it feels ominous nonetheless. Ian and Steve generally enjoy attention. Sammy has sculpted his body for the same reason. I however don't look for this at all. I wish I were fucking invisible.
We step out of the car to a few hoots and hollers. Most of the kids are actually quiet, just there for the show I guess. There are giggles and laughs, a few "Fags," and some finger pointing but nothing too bad. Then.
"Hey cocksucker!" yells Jeff. One of the stoners.
"Yes?" Ian turns and replies. Embracing the taunt. This completely discombobulates Jeff who begins to babble. Bringing laughs from his fellow stoners.
We look at each other seeking some confidence, some support. We still have to walk through that crowd which by this time has now doubled in size. Just then I hear a voice calling out.
"Ian, Steve." It is Glen, one of their larger teammates being followed by Leroy, the biggest bastard on the team. Not known for his social skills. Oh shit.
"I don't fucking get it guys and honestly it gives me the creeps, but you are our teammates, we have your backs. Your's too," Glen says looking towards me and Sammy. "Come on."
"Yeah we got you." says Leroy in his gravelly voice. His face menacing.
They walk ahead of us, clearing a path. No one dares to challenge them, quickly moving aside.
I see the stares and glares. Some penetrate me like they are trying to reach my soul. I can feel the loathing and hate coming from some. Others just a bemused curiousity. A few however are seeing themselves. Their faces blank, staring. Terrified it could be them.
But suddenly everything shifts for me. This is done. We are out at school and there is no going back. Relief floods over me like a calming waterfall. This ride is over and now I can catch my breath.
"You four, come with me." It's Principle Ashton. He can be a bit of a dick.
We follow him into his office where he tells us to take a seat. He leaves the office only to return moments later along with Miss Lorenzo, the guidance counselor.
"Boys, we seem to have a bit of an issue here. What you do off of school grounds is your business but I have heard from three parents about the kiss in the parking lot." He informs us, a stern look on his haggard face.
"I wish people would mind their own business. Boys look, I don't want straight kids doing that on campus either. The hormones in this place are at a high enough level. But of course no one ever complains about little Johnny and Sally. Sorry this upsets me a bit. I have a son who is gay. He's twenty-four now." he continues.
"And I play for, let's say, a similar team." Miss Lorenzo confesses.
"Boys, I want you to be who you are but for the sake of my sanity, please keep it discreet as long as you are here. When you are at home you can fu..., sorry make out like bunnies. Now get to class." he finishes.
"Wow that went well," says Steve as we leave the office. "See you guys later."
We all share our goodbyes as we head off to our various classes. Some people are better than I thought.
The rest of Monday and all of Tuesday breezed by. No problems at all, The novelty seems to have worn off quickly.
But now it is Wednesday morning. Happy fucking birthday to me. But hey, I was dreading Monday and it went well. I've been dreading this day for at least three years. Maybe it will go well too. Luckily the boys seem to have forgotten today is my birthday, or more likely they are waiting until later in the day.
"Well guys, I'll see you later." I remind them, having told them the day before that I would be missing school for a meeting in the city. None bothered to ask what the meeting was about. Just as well.
I check myself in the mirror. I have on my favourite suit and I have to say I look pretty damn good. Last check for lint or god forbid a crease. No, all looks good. I make a note to snug my tie before the meeting. You've got this Chris." I tell myself. "Let's fucking do this."
Just then I here the familiar but rarely heard sound of my transportation arriving. A dark shadow passes overhead, hovers for a moment and then comes to a gentle landing in our expansive yard.
It is our military aircraft division's `Thunder Hawk,' a versatile and fortunately or unfortunately, highly effective attack helicopter. I remember how excited and proud I was to ride in this with my grandfather or mom. Then I learned the reality of why I have everything. I was too young to process it completely but too fucking smart to let it go.
I have everything because my family made a machine that took everything away from others. My house, land, money, everything. Every penny I have is because the `T-Hawk' rained death down on entire villages.
Sure my grandfather had money before but not this kind. It was solely due to this one success that we became stupid rich.
So where does that leave me. Mom insisted that I had nothing to do with that so I should never feel shame about it. Sorry mom but you know I do. It made me who I am. And I am fully aware that even though I may be smart beyond my years I am still just a kid. Adults can find ways to justify things that I simply cannot accept. I don't know if I would ever want to.
Focus Chris, today is your day.
I leave through the back door and head over to the foreboding, enormous, black beast, that thankfully has had its armaments removed. The pilot is standing by an open door, ready to usher me in. "Good morning Mr. Buchanan." He says welcoming me with a salute. He has been doing that since I was little.
After strapping in and adjusting my headset. "Good morning Walt, how's the flying this morning?" I ask.
"It's fine and clear sir. We should be there in about twenty minutes."
We lift off and head northward. As we pass over the school I can see the guys getting out of the car and looking skyward. I don't think they will put two and two together. Feels just a bit pompous.
It is a smooth flight. The sky clear and sunny. I do a last minute review of all my data. Not from notes. From memory. My mind is organized like a card catalogue. I can find and cross reference anything in an instant.
Any nerves that may have hovered are gone. Maybe it's this monster I'm in. Have to admit. It does exude power. Im feeling confident.
"Directly ahead sir." the pilot advises.
I see the helipad located in front of our corporate offices. Our whole complex is situated on an old military airfield. We make a soft landing, the rotors begin to spool down.
The pilot opens my door and I step into the bright sun.
"Good luck in there Chris. You're making your mom proud." Walt says, shaking my hand. "I'll be here when you're ready."
Of course. Walt and mom go back a long time. She must have been in touch. That explains the lack of surprise when he picked me up.
We have tried to keep this close but conversations get overheard, lawyers talk between themselves, and some issues had to be dealt with, or at least more fully explored, earlier. It's inevitable that some people at least suspect there may be something going down today out of the routine. The looks on the staff, all twelve hundred of them, as I make my way along a lengthy red carpet, flanked by two gigantic and fully armed bodyguards, is a clear indicator that my arrival, alone, is not what they expected.
Outside the razor wire topped boundary fence are hundreds of very vocal protestors, drawn by the annual meeting. I remember mom once telling me they were there to cheer us on. The withering look I gave her made it quite clear I was not buying it. This is my family legacy.
It's my job to start a new one.
I step into the grand lobby. My grandfather again. Priceless art adorns the gleaming marble walls. He loved to show off his success. I guess I understand though, at least from a strictly business viewpoint. Considering the product he sold, strength, victory and success, were a necessary part of the image. My board of directors fall into step behind me as we enter the boardroom.
I can hear the murmuring behind me. Expected. A secretary comes up and hands me an envelope.
"Thank you." I say as I open it and read the enclosed letter. Two words, written in hand. "I accept." It is signed by the CEO of our biggest competitor. Fan-fucking-tastic. Now I am so very fucking ready.
"Ladies, gentlemen, take your seats." I instruct the board while taking my place at the head of the table.
"Okay, what is this? Where's Liz? There's a lot I want to discuss here today and my schedule is too busy as it is." That is from Col. James "Jim" Thornton. Our `Head of Military and Defense Strategy.' This may not be his best day. Do I need him? Time for a visit to my card catalogue.
Col. James "Jim" Thornton (Head of Military and Defense Strategy) Background: A retired Air Force colonel, Jim has spent over 30 years in the military, primarily in logistics and procurement. He transitioned to the private sector to guide military-focused businesses and now serves as the company's top advisor on government contracts and military aviation strategies. Strengths: Extensive military contacts, procurement expertise, strong leadership and strategy development.
"The only one who's time should be of anybody's concern is mine. Now take your seat Jim. There is indeed a lot to discuss." I tell him.
"What the hell are you talking about? Who is this fucking kid?" Jim is making things easier.
"Jim, sit down." Instructs Art in a voice that carries the authority of his position.
Arthur "Art" Hayes (Chief Operating Officer) Background: Art is a former executive from Boeing with a deep background in operations management. He has over 25 years of experience in managing manufacturing plants, supply chains, and large-scale project management in the aerospace industry. He oversees all production operations, from military aviation to new grocery and banking ventures. Strengths: Operations optimization, supply chain management, project management.
"For those of you that don't know me, my name is Chris Buchanan. I am, effective today, the Chairman and CEO. Zip it Jim," as I see his lips begin to move. "This isn't some kind of joke. You think you have little time for bullshit? I've been here five minutes and the only bullshit is coming from you."
"Who the fuck do you think you are." Jim yells as he lunges in my direction. I can smell the scotch on his breath. He does not make it far.
"Thank you gentlemen," I say to the bodyguards that escorted me earlier as they restrain him. "Escort him off the property, make sure he gets home safely," remembering the protestors. "Oh and Jim," leaning in close. "Get the fuck out of my building."
After Jim is escorted out I am treated to a small smattering of applause. He is long past due. His performance has been suffering, his attitude makes him a difficult person to work with, and his expertise is no longer required.
"Chris, he's right in the middle of negotiating a takeover of Sisson Industries. He told me last week that he should get something signed this week. We've been trying to get them for years." Art informs me.
"Jim hasn't been in touch with them for weeks. Sisson refused to talk with him. So I talked with Sisson." Handing him the envelope I received moments ago.
"They accept? We got them? How?" Art seems excited. I hate to let him down.
"Not exactly Art. They got us." I tell him and the board to many looks of confusion. Then I tell them the figure.
"I sold them our military division. Well, our tech and contracts. We are taking this company in a different direction. Listen, you see the people outside. You've been around this before. Maybe you are used to it. I don't like it. I don't like the history of this company. We know how to build aircraft, and very well. So we will build the best air ambulances, police copters, rescue copters, and private civilian aircraft.
"But how? That old bastard would never pay that much. He's tighter than your granddad was."
"Well Art. You know how they say `it isn't what you know, it's who you know?' Sometimes it's what you know about who you know."
I think back to a big holiday picnic one year, I was six. I was with my mom and Mr. Sisson was there with his family. Dad was flying somewhere. Well old Mr. Sisson got me alone in the men's room and grabbed my dick. I didn't tell anyone because I kind of liked it. But I also never forgot.
"And the old name is gone. We need a new start. We can't fix or take back the past but going forward we need a new name and new image to go along with our helpful rather than destructive direction.
"The Buchansey Group." I tell them, a portmanteau of Ian and my last names. "Everything is in your briefing notes. We are going to have a lot of change but no one is to lose their jobs. Every single bit of press from now on is going to be positive. In fact when we announce this to our crew later I'm also going to be announcing a fifty percent raise across the board. We have to work all media attention to our advantage.
Am I trying to buy forgiveness for the past? Maybe I fucking am. But you have only one shareholder you need to please. Me. I want a company I can be proud of. And we are going to get that. Jim is out, not needed, those of you still at this table six months from now will get a very generous stock option package. I want to work on this as a team. Now let's get dirty. Oh can someone arrange pizza and water for the crowd outside the gates?"
We spend several hours reviewing all of the details related to this massive change in our company's direction. Still selling to government but not military. Expansion of local community banking. And growing our grocery division with an emphasis on each store having a large kosher selection. Looking at our locations I realized how many sales we have lost due to poor targeting.
The entire board seems to embrace the changes. There seems to be a feeling of relief if anything. Jim was the only old style hawk in the room.
Patricia Rogers is excited about the grocery expansion. As VP of consumer strategy she has been waiting for an opportunity like this.
Maggie Wilson, our CFO is invigored with the idea of community banking, with a large focus on services for single moms and others that have been ignored by the bigger banks. She will have the support of Linda Carmichael, a trailblazer in community banking. Her investment strategies have provided surprising returns to micro investors.
We leave the boardroom and head out to the apron where the staff are gathered for this year's announcement. The sunlight is bright in my eyes. Who set up this stage? I look out and see immediately the concern. These annual events can be either very good news or very bad with little in between. It feels like our entire team is holding its breath. I start by letting them know that their jobs are secure. This brings a collective sigh of relief along with applause. They seem excited about the new direction.
The energy level explodes when I announce the raises, bringing applause and tears. These people have worked hard to make me rich. I want to see them prosper too. This is such a good feeling. I don't know why more rich guys don't do things like this. Using my money to make other people happy is the best feeling in the world.
Maggie does take me aside to once more ensure I understand the full gravity of these changes. The company's profits will drop considerably. At least initially. No one pays ridiculous prices like the military.
"I've run the numbers Maggie. You are dead on. But if we play this right I feel we will end up bigger than we were. And I know I'll sleep better at night."
I am confident that Art will take the new ideas and run full speed. He has been an amazing COO and will continue to run the business. He too has been wanting to move away from our military contracts. Not an ethical issue. He likes new challenges and he has years of experience in civilian aviation. We are going to kick ass.
Then as the crowd watches, along with local TV crews, I, again flanked by security, make my way towards Walt, standing at the open door of the Thunder Hawk. Before I step in one of the bodyguards takes me aside.
"We are going to have to discuss your security arrangements going forward sir. For now I have two men at your driveway gate, but you have a very large property. Right now I have an Ian Dempsey, Samuel Greenberg, Steven McGrath and some guy just named Harold on your access list. I also understand that your large back building will have a residential use. I'll need those names too." I provide him with Mike's contact information to get what he needs. "We will have to make more permanent arrangements. Have a good flight sir." He tells me.
Fuck. Security, I had completely forgotten about that. Shit. This whole Mr. Buchanan stuff is an act. I put on the suit, I fly in a few times a year for meetings and that's it. Well I thought that's it.
Thinking back to the protestors I guess maybe it is a good idea, at least for the near future. This will be an interesting thing to explain to the guys. But I think back to when my grandfather lived here. He had security and I rarely even noticed. The gatehouses at the two main entrances to the property have sat vacant for years. I'll have to get them fixed up. That'll get billed to the company.
The flight home is more of a sightseeing trip. I was never a city guy and as we approach our town I realize how much I like living there. Surrounded by forests, small lakes, streams, it is beautiful. Made even more beautiful because of who I'm surrounded by.
Walt brings us to a feather touch landing. He wishes me luck going forward and waves as he lifts off. The downdraft tousling my always somewhat unruly hair. I turn to head into the house to be greeted by Ian's car pulling in and three heads stretching out the car windows to see the giant bastard fly away.
"What the fuck Chris?" Ian blurts, a stunned look on his face.
"I told you I had my own transportation for the board meeting." I answer casually, enjoying the expressions of puzzlement on the boys. I walk past them into the house. I gotta pee. Once inside I run to the can. Out of my suit and into my comfies I join the boys in the kitchen. All three are sitting, jaws open, waiting for some form of explanation for what they just saw.
"What?" I ask teasingly. "The traffic was bad."
"Okay, look, that big fucker you saw taking off is what made my family stinking rich. My grandfather was a warmonger and loved the power he sold. Death and destruction, with the utmost efficiency. That is behind us now. It fucks with me sometimes, you know? Everything we have here is because of that. But we're taking a totally new direction and I really hope it will help put some of the past behind us for good.
Anyways guys, nothing for you to worry about. Money has delivered me a lot of benefits. I want to return that somehow. Half of my shares have been transferred to a trust that will be able to do a lot of good for a lot of people. The rest will keep me a spoiled rich brat I guess."
"It's like you have a whole life we don't even know about." says Sammy. A fucking helicopter in your back yard. You looked like a cute James Bond. Like okay, we know you're rich, obviously. But like are you rich rich or fucking insane rich?"
"Well, I'll never run out of money. I'm set for life. Actually we all are. I've set up a trust for each of you. You guys are good for money. You will never have to worry again."
The look on their faces is one I won't forget. Surprise, then tears. Before they can say a word I say quickly, "Not a word, please, you guys are my life."
They are getting used to living well. I'm living my best life because of them. "So anything you do you can do it because you want to, not because you have to. Ian has his repair shop. Figure out what would make you guys happy to do and do it. That is what money can do."
I instantly could see dreaming in the eyes of Steve.
"Hey, could I teach a dance class? asks Steve enthusiastically.
"Of course, open a school if you want. The contact info for my lawyer is on my desk. Give him a call and he will set everything up. Sammy, any ideas?" I ask.
"I don't know, I'm not particularly good at anything except working out." he admits.
"Sammy, we could work together. Dancers have to train hard and some strength training would be really good to have. We could be partners." Steve dreams.
"We are partners Stevie," says Sammy. "Okay, let's do it." as the two scurry off to the studio to work on their plans.
"So Chris, did it all go okay?" Ian asks. I told him an overview of what was planned but didn't bother him with the details.
"Better than expected Ian. Even the address to the team. My pulse was racing having all those eyes on me but I did okay. Actually I did great." I tell him.
"You could have told me about the helicopter, I would have liked to see it up close. And the guys at the gate? No warning about that?" Ian complains.
"Sorry baby, there was a lot on my mind. I'll arrange a tour of our plant for you. As far as the guys on the driveway, due to protests lately I don't have a choice. We are going to get the two gatehouses fixed up. Don't worry, they have your photos now. We will hardly know they are here." I reassure him.
Shit, school. Am I really going to go to school with two huge armed bodyguards? No, that won't work. Well, technically I graduated over a year ago. I just kept going for the theatre and to not be a complete hermit. I'm not going back to say goodbye. Too much attention. I'll call them tomorrow. I guess I will have to get Ian's permission. Funny.
"Ian, I have to quit school. I can't go there like a normal kid anymore so there is no point. You guys can keep going and I will use my time to work on the goals of our foundation." I tell him, a bit pained to have to do so.
"Chris, can you do me a favour?" he asks as I nod in agreement. "You looked so hot standing there with the helicopter taking off. So strong and powerful. I want you to fuck me hard, now, right here."
Within seconds we are both naked. Ian places himself prostrate on the kitchen table, his flawless ass an irresistible invitation.
"Lube." as my cock rises, I begin to stroke until it is at its full potential.
"No lube," Ian insists. "Use spit, fuck me, make me your bitch sir.
I can't help but stifle a small giggle at hearing that. I did build up a lot of tension at the meeting. The rally afterwards took care of most of that. I burned it up dealing with having to be in front of a huge crowd. But there is enough left for Ian.
Pushing myself up on my toes I ram myself into him in one push. Ian yelps in a brief moment of surprise and pain. I smile as I think of the way the kids at school would react if they could see us right now. I know they all picture me as Ian's little bottom boy. Don't judge a book, right?
We continue, Ian moaning in pleasure as I continue to pound him. We've fallen into our routine I guess. I suck Ian and I fuck him. We are both I guess, versatile to an extent, but this is what we both seem to enjoy the most. I still prefer to suck than fuck but Ian rarely leaves me wanting for a nice, sweet load.
The table is shifting across the floor as I continue assaulting Ian's sculpted ass. So tight. He clenches. My cock feels like it is trapped in a velvet vice. Sweat drips from my brow onto Ian's muscled back. I grab his hair pulling his head back continuing thrusting. He likes it when I pull his hair. A groan of ecstasy escapes his mouth, followed by a gasp as I go as deep as I can, unloading my balls deep into Ian. I let out a yell.
"Cool, Wow!" As I am blasting I turn to see Steven and Sammy standing at the kitchen door, taking in the show. For some reason I begin to laugh.
Ian, unaware, turns to ask me, "What's funny?" Upon seeing the boys he joins me in laughing. Applause from the two of them. A situation that may embarrass many is just another day in this house.
"I think we need to clean the table Sammy," Steve says grabbing some paper towel and cleaning spray. "Move boys or I'll spray you too."
Ian and I, cocks chubbed and hanging, head to our bedroom to clean up. I'll probably suck a sweet load out of him later.
All tidied up we return to the kitchen to see Steve and Sammy sitting with wide grins. "Great pre-dinner entertainment guys," Steve says.
"Glad you enjoyed the matinee." I say grabbing some large soup bowls from the cupboard. Filling them with steaming chicken and dumplings, slow cooking all day, I place them on the table along with a plate of fresh bread.
We have a great chat while enjoying our meal. I talk about my ideas for the foundation and ask for theirs as well. They seem at a bit of a loss, to be expected, I've been tossing these ideas around for some time, it is completely new to them.
As Steve would say, `Wow,' all done. Out of the closet, done with school, now I get to find ways to spend my money. I can't change the whole world but I can change some people's worlds. Oh that reminds me.
"One thing guys, I wouldn't mention to many people that you have money in the bank now. Well, in investments. Money makes people behave badly sometimes. That's why you never saw me flashing cash around at school or talking up my wealth. You guys are the only people I talk about it with. All the kids know that I'm a rich kid but if it weren't for this house would any of you had known?" I ask, receiving heads shaking no.
"Shit Chris, I was on the phone today with my dad. He won't be getting out for a long time. But I mentioned to him. Well, bragged I guess, that I have money and he can rot in hell. He kept asking me how much money. Telling me I should hire him a fancy lawyer." Steve admits.
"Actually Chris," says Sammy, "I was kind of curious, like, I don't understand money like you do, none of us do. Like how much money are we talking about? Sorry, I just want to understand when you set we will `never have to worry again.' What exactly does that mean?"
"Guys, I've had my people transfer some of my shares into your names. The interest and dividends," I continue noticing the confused looks." Okay, you own shares in my company. Those shares work for you earning you money. As long as the company makes money you will continue to make money. That will provide you with an ongoing income. I've also had them open bank accounts in both of your names, at our bank of course, and I've deposited some cash for you to just have fun with.
And as for how much, well..." I tell them the amount in their bank accounts first. They look stunned. Ian watches knowing how much I enjoy seeing them so happy. Then I tell them the current value of their stock holdings.
"You can't be serious, are you serious? Holy fuck Stevie, we're mil..." Sammy starts before I interrupt.
"Yes Sammy but keep it quiet. The fewer that know the better. Just promise me that you will do good things with it." I tell them. "Don't fucking change because of it, I'd never forgive myself."
The two boys are crying, unable to believe their good luck.
"So we can do anything with the money in the bank?" Sammy asks, I nod. "I want to pay off my mom's house. I'll still have a lot left and it will make things so much easier for her."
"That's great Sammy. I'll have one of the people from the bank drop by to handle the paperwork. I'll have her bring the mortgage papers so you can give them to your mom as a gift." I tell him. "As far as your dad Steve, it's your money."
"That bastard is not going to get a single cent from me. Does that make me selfish guys?" Steve asks.
"No Steve, your dad treated you horribly and now you have something he wants. That entitles you to a bit of smugness, but just about this. I've learned a lot about you in a short time Steve. You are not a selfish person. You're one of the most loveable people I have ever met." I tell him.
"Gee thanks," says Sammy with a lighthearted tone.
"Well I was thinking of a dance camp this summer. That would give me time to put together the right training and stuff. I want to do a good job. Just kids, boys only, girls smell funny." He laughs. But a camp needs a place to sleep. Could we put tents up out back or will your helicopter land on them? Sammy asks.
"You fucker. Just put them upstairs. That's what it's for." I tell him.
"Upstairs, where? What are you talking about?" Sammy asks.
"Upstairs above the studio. There are two bunkhouse rooms each with twelve bunks." I tell them uncertain if they heard as they rush to explore.
"Quite a day huh?" asks Ian as he cuddles me. "You need a feeding."
We head to the bedroom for this. Enough entertainment for the day. I wonder what the week will bring.