This is the first chapter to my new novel, the follow-up to Ryan's Odyssey.
I hope you all enjoy this one just as much as you did Ryan's Odyssey. No, it is not an incest story, even though it is about two brothers, and their individual discovery's. If they have some form of sex down the road has not been determined yet.
enjoy this story and keep the e-mails coming.
Check out my site to read my other story
tdog505.tripod.com
LUXURY OF LIES
BOOK I
CHAPTER ONE (CHASE)
I was standing with a group of my friends at the main entrance to Barfield School for boy's, the tie I was forced to wear, was loosened as soon as the last bell rang anouncing the end of another school day. A long stretch of limos extended to the main gate about one hundred yards away and beyond. One boy climbed into each limo and was quickly wisked away to their respected homes, only to be returned the very next morning. Eventually my limo pulled up and my personal chauffer, Myles, stepped out and opened the door for me.
"How was your day today Master Chase?" he asked.
"Fine," I said, "Are mom and dad still in Atlanta," I asked.
"They are due back tommorrow," he said.
That was the extent of our conversation as we made the twenty mile drive towards the fifteen room mansion at the top of the Moreland Estate. I was greeted at the door by Ms. Barton, our housekeeper, but a lady who was more like a mother to me then my own was. It was a ritual for her to meet me at the door and give me a big hug, something I had always thought my mother should have done. Sad as it may sound, it really didn't know my mother that well, she was just kinda figure that was in and out of the house, and out more then she was in. I hugged Ms. Barton back and was told there was a snack in the kitchen for me.
I dashed acoss the hugh frontroom and straight to the door leading to the kitchen. Pierre, our cook, had set out a plate of Chocolate Marble Cherry Cookies and a glass of Milk on the kitchen table. The plate was still full, which surprised me, since there was probably four or five cookies left when I got home school, since my older brother, Michael, always got home before me and usually ate the majority of them, and would have probably ate them all if Pierre and Ms. Barton hadn't stopped him.
"Michael's not home from school yet?" I asked.
"Master Michael came home early, he said he was feeling ill," Ms. Barton said, "and I was not to disturb him, if he wanted anything he would ring for it."
He said Ms. Barton wasn't to disturb him, but I knew that didn't mean me. Hell, he would be happy to see me. Since neither of us really had any parents, we had grown up to rely on each other when ever we had problems. I remember one time, when I was around nine, a kid in a couple of grades above me, thought he would have a little fun on my account. He tormented me in the schoolyard, calling me names and tripping me whenever he had the chance.
I took his abuse for about a week, until I finally told Michael, who told me that after the school the next day I wasn't gonna have to worry about any shit from the boy again. And just like Michael said, I never had another problem with him again.
I walked up the stairs, towards Michael's bedroom. At the last minute I decided to change out of my school uniform and put on my regular kid clothes. To see my room, you wouldn't think the second son to the richest man in North America lived there. It looked like the typical room of any thirteen year old ameican boy. I had a full size poster of a buxom blonde hanging over my bed, in a very revealing swimsuit. I pressed my lips to the poster and kissed it. "Hey baby, " I said, "did you miss daddy today." I laughed to myself, I realized how stupid it sounded. I quickly stripped all my clothes off and threw on a pair of blue shorts and a white t-shirt, along with my two hundered and fifty dollar cross trainers, that were custome made for me, hell even the shorts and t-shirt were custom made for me and weren't cheap either. I grabbed the Playstation 3, game console, my father had got me for my birthday, almost four months before it was to be released to the national public, and headed towards my brother Michael's room.
Have you ever had that feeling that something isn't right, but you just can't put your finger on it. Well that was the kind of feeling I had as I approached Michael's room. I had never knocked when I approached Michael's room, but for some reason something told me I need to knock before I entered, but I was never one to listen to the voices in my head, or to anyone elses as far as that went. I pushed the door open and was greeted with the shock of my life.
Michael was laying across the top of his bed, like he usually was, when I barged in on him, and he usally grabbed his pillow and threw it at me, yelling at me not to just walk into his room again without being invited. I would give him a pouting look and he would pat the bed next to him and I would sit down next to him, and we would tell each other about our days and talk about a million other things, 'till Ms. Barton announced supper was ready. Well, that was what I was expecting when I entered his room, but was shocked by what I saw. Like I said Michael was laying across the top of his bed, except for one distinct fact, he was naked as the day he was born, his flacid penis lay across the inside of his right thigh. I thought I had walked in on him well he was masterbating. I had discovered the pleasure I could give myself a few months ago, and had wanted to ask Michael about it, but was too scared too. As I got closer to his bed, a smell I wasn't familiar with, drifted up and almost overpowered me. At thirteen I had never experienced the taste of alcohol, much less the smell.
"Michael," I said, pushing down on his shoulder, "what's wrong." I was getting really worried, and thought about going against his wishes and getting Ms. Barton.
He opened his eyes and upon seen me, bolted straight up, "what the fuck are you doing in my room," he said, and then before I knew what happened his right hand caught my left check flush dropping me to the floor.
"Michael," I yelled, "what the hell is wrong with you. Why did you hit me?" I asked, not waiting for an answer before I stormed out of his room, and ran as quickly as I could to my own. I dropped down on my bed and started crying, and not really because of the pain racing through my cheek, even though it hurt like hell, but because of the pain I could see in Michael's eyes, and knowning there was nothing I could do about it. I had fallen asleep when I heard the familiar ring, signifying supper was ready.
(MICHAEL)
I placed my head in my hands and let the tears flow freely, I couldn't believe what I had just did. Even though Chase could get on my nerves sometimes, and was always invading my privacy I had never thought I could hit him, but then it wasn't really me, if you know what I mean, it was more the fifth of vodka I had downed. Before you go start thinking I have a drinking problem, which is probably what's on your mind right now, or why else would I be drunk at four in the afternoon, and on a school day. I think you need to know a little about my background to understand my true situation.
My name is Michael Shane Moreland, and I am the oldest son of Robert and Helen Moreland. Wait, you don't know who my parents are, well I quess you haven't been watching the news or reading any magazines for the past ten years. My father is the richest man in North America, with an estimated worth of almost sixty billion dollars, well at least that's what the magazines I have read said. I'm not real sure how my father got his money, and to tell you the truth I really don't care. I would have traded all that money in for him to be a part of my life when I could have used him. Instead I was raised by Ms. Barton, who I love with all my heart, and even though I know she loves me, she still is employed by my parents and therefore has to answer to them. I grew up feeling like me and my younger brother, Chase, were just ornaments my parents could parade around when the need arised, and let me tell you that need didn't arise very often.
If you want to know what I look like, go to almost any teenage girls bedroom, and you will probably see a poster of me on their bedroom wall. One of those teenybopper magazines, I'm not sure which one, decided a couple of months back that I deserved to be in their publication, and my photo was splattered all over the front page of the magazines, with teenage and pre-teen girls, writing about how dreamy my blue eyes were, and that they loved my wavy blonde hair, and a bunch of other junk I couldn't get into. I would look at myself in the mirror and try to figure out what they saw in me, and as far as I was concerned, my nose was a little too big, my eyes were kinda shifty. I didn't see how they could put me in those magazines alongside all those Hollywood actors.
Your probably wondering what led me to drink a bottle of Vodka, and the reason I was completely naked laying on my bed. It was a revelation I had come to terms with that day, something I had suspected for quite a while, but just never wanted to admit, even to myself. You see I'm gay. Yes, you heard me right, I like boys. I like the way they smell, the way they feel, the way when they touch my hand I get all mushy, and lose my breath. I like one boy inparticular though. I'm in love with a boy in my grade by the name of Wayne Westwood. To me he was the most beautiful thing I had ever laid my eyes on. He had dark wavy hair, he kept cut in the style of the day, deep hypnotic brown eyes I would often get lost in. He was around 5'10" tall, with a good athletic build, a strong six-pack stomach, and in the shower after gym class I got to see the part of him I loved the best. His cock was at least six inches long, dark in color, and the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. I wanted nothing more then to feel it grow between my lips, well I sucked it 'till he spurted his manhood down my throat making him part of me.
I thought it was nothing but a stupid fantasy of mine, and the chances of it ever happening where zero to none, but that day things began to change. It was the day my life was justing getting started.