Thank you for your continued interest in my story series. This chapter begins the new chapter of Mario's husband's nephew Sam and his lover Mickey. Please enjoy.
Please be sure to make a contribution to Nifty to be able to continue this great resource.
This is a work of fiction and does not resemble any person living or dead; this work is copyright by the author and may not be duplicated or distributed in any form without specific written permission by the copyright owner.
SAM & MICKEY + CHAPTER THREE
"The honor of second highest GPA, graduating summa-cum-laude with the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in Business Leadership, is Michael Graham Clarke. Doctor Clarke has been honored by the Macarthur Foundation for best business dissertation of the year; he is also the recipient of the Business School Alumni Association `Award of Excellence', and finally has the honor of being the newest writer for a weekly column in both the LA Times and the International Chronicle of Business." The Dean of the Business School had just finished announcing the honors at the graduation convocation, and the polite applause was interrupted by a loud hooting cheer from the back left of the audience. Mickey's Dad was obviously proud of his only boy. Sam was on his feet, loudly applauding.
Lunch was provided by the Business School in the Faculty Senate; Mickey's family were all glowing with pride at Mickey's accomplishments. Mickey's father, a retired ranch foreman for a citrus operation in eastern San Bernardino county, and his mother, a retired municipal court clerk, were in awe at their surroundings in the university campus. Mickey's two sisters were not in attendance: both had small children and could not get away in the middle of the week.
Following the lunch, Mickey and Sam had invited the parents to the condominium they shared in Santa Monica. The twelfth-floor balcony looked south instead of west, and so was not too hot in the afternoon sun. Mickey's mother was glad to sit in the kitchen at the bar sipping iced tea; she was apparently afraid of heights. Sam endured all the requisite questions about his background and his family; he was happy to be able to spend time with Mickey's family. Even though they had met several times over the years, they had never been close. Sam was hoping that now Mickey had finished his doctorate degree at UCLA they would have more time to spend with their families.
"I gotta tell ya, I have always been worried about Mick" his father was saying; Sam nodded politely and asked why.
"Well, ya know, it ain't easy for a boy growing up out in the weeds like that," Ben Clarke drawled.
"'Sides, it just can't be easy anyway."
Sam decided to let that remark hang in the air for a moment, to see what the follow-up might be. It came a couple of moments later.
"Ya know, church folk and what-not, people talking, and society being what it is, folk being curious and sometimes just plain mean, it can't be easy."
Sam thought he knew where this conversation was headed but kept silent.
Ben Clarke concluded, after gulping down the last of his canned PBR and crushing the aluminum, "But the boy done good. Damn good."
Mickey blushed; his mother nodded and said "Mmmhhmm."
Sam smiled. Perhaps this was high praise from the ranch foreman. He was not sure, but he was enjoying the warmth of the moment. He was totally happy for Mickey.
They made love on the balcony; it was clearly against the HOA rules and probably violated some city ordinance, as well as startling the birds and passing airplanes. Mickey was leaning over the railing and enjoying the rhythmic slapping of Sam's crotch into his ass as well as the magnificent feeling that came from the giant cock inside him. Sam was taking his time: they were not in any hurry to finish this session. Sam pulled out and sat on one of the chairs on the balcony, and Mickey arranged himself to get stabbed once agin by the big beautiful cock. Face-to-face, Sam came inside of Mickey and moments later Mickey came on Sam's chest. Mickey slumped there, resting and breathing, his head on Sam's shoulder, still feeling the hot cum inside of him and the throbbing of a still-hard cock in his ass.
In the shower, Sam asked "Well Dr. Clarke, what is the first thing on your agenda?"
"You mean right after I plow your ass?"
"Yes."
"The Macarthur award had a little cash, as did the Alumni award, so I am going to take you out to dinner."
"Where do you want to take me Love?"
"I want to take' you right here, but I want to have dinner with you at the Inn of the Tides' in Bodega Bay."
"Wow. That's cool. Where Hitchcock filmed "The Birds."
"Yep. And we can go visit your Mom then too."
Sam was deliriously happy. He had to think hard about it, but he was sure he had never told Mickey the reasons he fell in love. Maybe now was the time.
Picking over a huge Cobb salad which he had prepared for the two of them, Sam began "You know I am extremely proud of you. I don't think I know anyone who is smarter than you. And I am so glad to be by your side for all of this. And do you want to know something else?"
"Sure."
"I owe you an apology."
"For what?" Mickey was perplexed.
"For this." Sam got on one knee, and taking Mickey's hands, said "Dr. Michael Graham Clarke, will you marry me?" There was a lone tear slowly ebbing down Sam's cheek.
Mickey was silent. Sam was suddenly apprehensive: "What the Hell was wrong," he wondered.
"Sam, I will love you for the rest of my life. Yes, I will marry you. Yes. I want to love, honor, and obey for as long as we both shall live." Now it was Mickey's turn to shed a tear.
On their cell phones, the next hour or two was spent calling friends and family to let them know the wonderful news; Elizabeth Stephenson, Sam's mother shouted, "It's about time you goofball." Peter and Mario could not stop giggling, and Mickey's parents had their usual stoic country attitude: "Congratulations Dear" Mickey's mother murmured. Sam's sister was delighted; Mickey's two sisters were less forthcoming.
An hour later, Peter called back: "Do you have a date and place in mind?"
"No not really; what do you suggest?"
"How about tomorrow morning here at the Malibu house?"
Mickey laughed; "Tomorrow morning is out of the question, neither of us is a morning person, but let me ask Sam about the Malibu house. It sounds wonderful. We will let you know."
Peter replied, "Mario said to tell you there is no negotiation; you have to use the beach house."
"OK, then, I will let Sam deal with that." Mickey smiled and told Sam about the conversation. "What do you think, Love?"
"The house is OK, I guess, but what about the date?" Sam asked.
"I have interviews coming up in the next two weeks, so maybe right after that? I want to do this as soon as possible." Mickey was blushing.
Sam asked, "What's up Babe?"
Mickey smiled; "I don't want to rush you."
"After me ignoring what a wonderful thing was right in front of my eyes for the years we have been together, you have every right to rush me" Sam said. Mickey grabbed him and hugged him. He felt a tear coming on.
Mickey interviewed with two of the big old-line accounting firms now morphed into consulting agencies: he was apprehensive about commuting every day into downtown LA to the financial district where these firms were located. He also interviewed with a small independent firm in the B of A tower on Ninth and Hope, where the Jane Fonda/Dolly Parton film "Nine to Five" had been filmed. He finally signed with Deloitte, which also had offices in Beverly Hills. As a part of his contract negotiation, he got assigned to the Beverly Hills office; he and Sam could potentially have lunch together once a week. His starting date was in four weeks: that gave him and Sam just ten days to throw together a wedding.
The Mayor of Los Angeles was the officiator at their ceremony; Mickey's mother, father, and two sisters attended, as did Sam's mother and sister. Peter and Mario of course were in attendance, as well as Ross and Joaquin, and the partners of the law firm. Sam insisted on a caterer recommended by Simon, so that Simon could attend the wedding without any responsibility for throwing a party.
Sam's words as they exchanged their vows were remarkably poetic for a man who was not customarily inclined to them: "There is no one on this planet who has given me what you have given me.
When I am at
The end of the road
And there is nothing
But canyons and mountains ahead
And there is nothing
To hold on to
But the tattered ends of Dreams
Then you come to me
And slowly I awake
And the grey dawn gives way
And I remember
This is not an ending
This is a beginning."
("Rubble", from Chaos of Light, 2010, Paul W. Landerman)
That evening, as they boarded a flight to Puerto Vallarta, the American Airlines flight attendant showed them into their seats in first class and poured them glasses of champagne. "Congratulations on your wedding" she said. Sam and Mickey were surprised; she handed them an envelope with the California Governor's office embossed on the card inside. "Have a happy honeymoon" read the card, signed by Stuart and Raj.
"How was the weather in Puerto Vallarta?"
Sam and Mickey both laughed; "We're not sure." Peter could not stop laughing. Mario coughed politely. "Hard to imagine the former managing partner cannot remember the weather" he chuckled.
Having dinner with their oldest and best friends in the Loew's hotel in Santa Monica, Mickey and Sam were almost giddy. The whirlwind wedding, honeymoon, and time spent tying up loose ends and starting on new paths was physically as well as emotionally challenging: both Sam and Mickey were excited and nervous.
"How do you feel about your new job?" Peter asked.
Mickey gulped. "I'm a little nervous, but I'm sure it will be OK."
"And what about you, nephew, anything new in your line of work?"
"Actually, yes. And I am not sure what to think about it yet. Mickey and I have talked about it, but I have not made any decision. Babe, tell them what's going on."
Mickey explained "Sam has received an offer to join a big national sports administration firm. There is no salary increase, but there is a huge increase in marketing exposure nationally."
Mario asked, "So what are the advantages and disadvantages?"
Sam replied "The main advantage is the national exposure. The main disadvantage is the huge bump in business travel. I will potentially be gone half of every month."
Mickey interjected "And that has me pretty nervous."
"Do you bring your current clients with you?" Peter asked.
"Yes, plus there is the potential to grow my client list. But I am not sure that is the right thing to do; I am at capacity right now and have not done any marketing except to replace the clients who have retired." Sam really seemed confused.
Mario smiled: "So in other words, you could get the same benefits as if you joined the other firm, without the travel, just by doing some more marketing yourself?"
Peter joined in "Or hiring a marketing firm?"
Sam slapped himself in the forehead. "Shit. Why didn't I think of that?"
"Sometimes we get too close to the forest to see the trees" Peter remarked. They all chuckled. Peter raised his wine glass in a salute to Sam, and they all clinked their glasses together to toast the decision.
One week later, on a sunny Monday morning, Mickey was shown into his new office at 9100 Wilshire Boulevard in Beverly Hills: it was not the coveted corner suite, but easily twice as big as his former office at the law firm. Deloitte already had a roster of clients for Mickey to meet, and he saw that he was going to be just as busy as he had been as managing partner of Baylor, McLean and Garza. In addition to client consulting, he was asked to do marketing for new clients, and to conduct a quarterly client education conference. The firm conducted the conference to update clients on taxes, HR issues, changes in law and legislation, and leadership. Mickey was assigned two of those topics.
He insisted that his PA and his secretary and the receptionist all call him by his name, not the "Dr. Clarke" that had been used by the firm's partner when he was introduced to the staff. The first day was busy with client phone calls, meetings with department colleagues, and the weekly calendar update with the section head. The following day was even busier: two clients dropped in to see Mickey in the office to become acquainted, and three of the banks who were on his client list called to ask him to lunch later that week. By Friday, Mickey was afraid his vicious migraine headaches that had subsided ten years ago, were going to come back and attack him again.
Sam called at just an hour before quitting time on Friday: they had driven in to work together that morning, and Sam wanted to find out when Mickey was ready for Sam to come by and pick him up to go home. Mickey sounded exhausted to Sam on the phone; "Come now" he pleaded.
"Really? Sure. Give me five minutes to close up my office."
"I'm just kidding. I have another meeting with the boss before I leave, so I might be at least another half hour."
Sam sucked in his breath; he was worried about Mickey; "I'll just come up to your office and wait for you."
Driving home together, Mickey was slumped in the passenger seat of Sam's BMW 650ix coupe; the cool air and the soft leather lulled him into a nap. When the car stopped, and Mickey awoke, he was momentarily startled because he did not recognize their surroundings. Sam said "How about some dinner? You look like you have been ridden pretty hard this week."
Mickey smiled. "Do you know why I love you?"
"Nope. Fill me in."
"This. You take care of me. You care about me. I love it." Mickey's exhaustion was obvious in his speech.
At home in the condo after dinner at La Scala, Mickey fell asleep on the sofa and Sam gently led him to the king-size bed. There was bright sunlight shining in the bedroom window when Mickey awoke in the morning; he was startled because Sam was not in the bed. He crawled out of the bed and eventually found his way to the kitchen; there was a note from Sam in his childish scrawl. "Back in a flash" it said and had a heart with their initials on the bottom.
At that moment the door opened, and Sam arrived, beaming, carrying a white bag and two large cups of coffee. "It's not breakfast in bed, but it smells pretty good" he grinned at Mickey.
As they ate silently, enjoying the creamy café latté and the egg-and-bacon croissants, Sam was trying to watch Mickey out of the corner of his eye.
"Babe are you going to be OK?" he asked.
"Sure. I just need to get used to this new schedule at work. It might take me a week or two, but I am going to be fine. Please don't worry about me."
"Listen Dr. Clarke, I am already worried about you, but if that's the way you want it then I will just have to hide it from you, but you are more important to me than any job. Yes, I am worried about you and yes, I am going
to keep worrying about you."
"Sam, I love you. Just don't get obsessed."
"I've been obsessed with you from the very first."
"You're crazy."
"Yep. Crazy about you. Now listen, what about a drive down the coast today? I want to see you relax and get the office out of your system for a few hours."
"Cool. I'm all yours."
They enjoyed a late lunch near the beach in Dana Point: the Schwack Grill provided typical pub food and lots of alcohol, and Mickey enjoyed just sitting in the sun with his husband.
"Did you ever think it would be like this?"
Sam was quiet for a moment; he turned toward Mickey and shading his eyes from the glare reflected off the diner's windows he said, "I had this crazy notion as a teenager the summer I interned with Uncle Peter's catering business, that I would live on the beach and be a surfer forever." He laughed at his own immaturity.
"That's not a bad idea. I think there are a lot of that species here in California."
"Probably" Sam agreed. "But I am really glad how things have turned out. To tell you the truth, I have not planned any of this: you just happened to come into my life at the right moment for both of us and then the magic happened."
"It has been magic" Mickey agreed.
Late that night, after some slow, quiet, warm fucking, they held each other falling asleep. Mickey was the first to start snoring, which always reminded Sam of a little puppy he once had at home in Santa Rosa.
Mickey's father phoned the next morning. Mickey knew it could not be good news: his father hated to use the telephone.