All rights reserved. Copyright held by the author. If you are underage or are offended by gay fiction, containing graphic sex and explicit language, please exit now.
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"THE PASSION OF MATTHEW"
Copyright Ritchris 2005
A story by
Ritch Christopher
Literary enhancement by
Les Martin
Chapter Four
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The morning light, streaming through the windows, woke Hank. At least, it started the waking procedure. As he tried to open his eyes and focus on the room, the previous day forced its way into the forefront of his brain. His first full day in Philemon had been stressful, what with Matt's breathing episode, then preparing dinner for the crew, watching the Colin Farrell movie with Matt, and then learning Matt's history from Art. He tried to deny the morning sun, so Hank was still half asleep when Mike knocked on his door.
"You awake?" Mike asked.
"Yeah, sure. I...I was just getting dressed," Hank replied, jumping out of bed and quickly donning a pair of Levi's to cover his morning erection, a polo shirt, and sneakers without socks.
"The boys and I have already eaten breakfast. I fried some extra sausage patties and some strips of bacon and left them in the warming oven along with a pan of biscuits I made. I figured you'd fix your own breakfast when you fixed Matt's. There's eggs and jelly in the fridge if you boys want any." Mike's voice, heard through the closed door, reminded Hank of the day to come.
"Thanks, Mike," Hank said, as he opened his door. "Have you looked in on Matt this morning?"
"Only a quick glance to see that he was sound asleep. Let him rest as long as he wants, then see if he'll eat some of the breakfast food I left for you guys."
"I hope he sleeps a while longer, Mike. I'd like time to take a bath before I begin my day with him."
"Well, we're about to leave."
"Did you take my cell phone?"
"No. Didn't even think of it."
"Let me give it to you, Mike, just in case."
"Yeah, but I hope there won't be a 'just in case' today."
"Don't worry, Matt will do NO running today, or any other day as long as I'm here."
"I know you'll be careful with him. Just try not to let him get upset. If he wants to be alone, then let him."
"All right."
"Can I ask what you two did after I left you to go back to the poker game?"
"We watched one of the DVD's I brought with me."
"And he sat through it without complaining?"
"Mike, he actually seemed to enjoy himself." Hank, remembering the night's activity, was again surprised at Matt's reaction to the video.
"That's music to my ears. Hank, you're a godsend, that's all I can say."
"Glad to help you in every way I can."
"I can tell one thing. You're NOT like your dad."
"Oh? Should I be grateful?"
"Bet your life. Martin is one of my oldest friends, but he's an ornery bastard. I'm glad as hell you don't take after him."
"I suppose I shouldn't, Mike, but I have to agree with you."
"Well, we're off!"
"Say good morning to all the guys for me and especially to Art."
"You like Art, huh?"
"We...well, we had a long talk last night and I think we became pretty good friends."
"He's a great guy and I love him. He was almost more of a father to me than our own dad when my brother and I were growing up."
Mike went out the front door to join his crew, then they climbed into the truck and drove off to the construction site.
Hank looked in on Matt to be sure he was sleeping, then he went into the bathroom. His first instinct was to take a hot shower, but he changed his mind while thinking about relaxing in a tub of hot soapy water. Hank plugged up the tub and ran it full of nearly scalding water. He removed his clothes and slowly conditioned his foot to the temperature of the water before getting completely into the tub. God! The hot water on his back and neck was as soothing as a deep massage. Hank hadn't realized just how tense his muscles were until he lay back in the tub and became aware of aches from sore muscles he hadn't realized were complaining.
Hank took the bar of soap from the dish on the side of the tub and squeezed it in his hands until he worked up a sizeable sudsy lather and spread it around the top of the water until it looked as if he had sprinkled in a cup of bubble bath. He lay back again and submerged his head beneath the suds as he had seen movie stars do and in his fantasy, he felt luxurious. He remembered the big bath of suds Julia Roberts had hidden under in 'Pretty Woman', but then his thoughts turned to Richard Gere and from there his mind wandered to Lance back home. He soon had an solid erection and, since he hadn't masturbated in a couple of days, he realized that this was a good time to relieve his tension. He closed his eyes and dreamed of being in Lance's arms and remembered how safe Lance always made him feel. Damn! If Lance would only divorce Lois, he and Hank could live happily ever after. Hank and Lance were good in bed together. Their sex was good and Hank knew it.
Suddenly Hank felt homesick after being in Philemon only two days. Even if he left Philemon today, he'd still have to wait until the middle of next week for his weekly Wednesday tryst with Lance. It didn't seem fair. Why couldn't Hank sleep beside Lance EVERY night, the same as Lois? Surely any normal woman would be turned on by Lance's beautifully muscular body. What the fuck was wrong with Lois? Why didn't she appreciate the man who married her?...or maybe it was Lance who wouldn't let Lois touch him. Lance always seemed to enjoy Hank's touch. Hank and Lance were equal partners in bed. Neither dominated the other. There was no top, no bottom for them as each took his turn pleasing the other whether it was orally or anally. They were a perfect match. They fit. They belonged together.
As Hank lay in the tub massaging himself, he felt a huge climax coming and he couldn't wait to achieve his orgasm. Two or three more strokes and he would be in heavenly bliss. Hank's explosion reached high in the air above the soap bubbles. It looked as if Old Faithful had just erupted right on schedule. Hank cried out a rather loud, 'OHHHH' as it occurred...just as Matt opened the door to watch the show.
"Oops!" Matt said, extremely embarrassed with the door knob still in his hand. He was without his prosthesis but had traveled down the hallway to the bathroom on crutches.
"Oh, God! I...Shit! Matt! Why didn't you knock?"
"I didn't know you were in here. I didn't hear the shower running and the bathroom had been quiet for several minutes. I had no idea that...Man, you surely do shoot a lot."
"You're one of the few people who have ever seen me do that," Hank said, as he picked up a washcloth and began to wash his neck and shoulders, trying desperately to act as if nothing unusual had occurred.
"I only came in to pee. I'm sorry I interrupted your mood."
"Then come on in and pee. There's nothing to see you haven't seen already."
"You know I wouldn't have barged in had I known..."
"It's OK. Forget it."
"I...uh...I need you to turn your head while I pee. I can't do it with someone watching."
"That seems a little unfair. You just saw me shoot a load and I have to turn my head because you're too modest to pee in front of me? I thought all Marines peed in front of each other. I thought you guys showered together."
"That's when I had nice skin, Hank."
"All right, I'll turn my head. If you're gonna pee, then pee."
Matt was wearing a long shirt with boxer shorts beneath. Hank turned to look at the wall while Matt raised his shirt, lowered his boxers and let loose a nice healthy stream into the toilet. When he finished, Matt raised his shorts and lowered his shirt tail.
"That bubble bath looks mighty inviting."
"You want me to leave the suds in the tub for you when I'm through?"
"Nah, a shower will suit me fine."
"Have you ever had a bubble bath?"
"No, bubble baths are for women...I mean---I didn't mean to imply that you..."
"That's OK. I thought about that earlier, I just didn't expect anyone to catch me in a tub filled with soap bubbles. By the way, Matt, how are you feeling this morning?"
"Good as new."
"Think you could eat some breakfast? Your Uncle Mike left some biscuits, sausage, and bacon in the oven for you and me."
"I think I'd like that."
Matt knew he should leave but seeing Hank naked in the tub intrigued him for some strange reason. Matt was trying to find some excuse to stay so that he could look longer at Hank's smooth body...the way Matt's body USED to be. Maybe it was envy of Hank's skin but, for no reason at all, Matt took Hank by surprise asking, "Would you like me to wash your back?"
"What?"
"You know, the part you can't reach...the part NO ONE can reach without some help."
"Wouldn't that make you feel...you know, 'faggoty'?" Hank asked, very curiously.
"I didn't offer to wash your front, asshole, I was talking about your back."
"Can you manage with your..."
"One arm and one leg?"
"Well, I wasn't planning on being so blunt, but yes."
"I told you yesterday, I'm crippled but I'm not a paraplegic. People aren't aware of how much I can do with one good leg and one arm."
"All right, wash my back, but don't go below my waist."
"I hadn't planned to."
Matt lowered the lid on the toilet and sat down. The commode was close enough to the tub that Matt could reach Hank's back with a slight reach. Matt took the washcloth from Hank's hand, grabbed the soap to work up a lather, then leaned forward to begin washing the back of Hank's neck, down his spine, both scapulas, and downward to the back side of Hank's waist.
Since Art had mentioned there was a possibility that Matt might have engaged in some kind of homosexual activity while serving in the Marines, Hank decided to test Matt. While Matt was washing the sides of Hank's back, Hank raised his arms straight up to see if Matt dared to wash Hank's armpits. Matt accepted Hank's invitation when he raised his arms and Matt took the cloth and began to wash the hair in Hank's pits. This brave action caused Hank to turn and smile at Matt. Matt returned the smile.
"You're doing such a good job, Matt, would you like to go further and wash my pectorals?"
"You won't take it the wrong way if I do?"
"I'll take it anyway you want me to...and nothing more."
Matt surprised Hank the second time by leaning forward even farther and started to suds up Hank's chest, paying close attention to Hank's nipples. It only took two swabs with the washcloth for Hank's nipples to harden.
"Does this turn you on, Hank?"
"What do you mean?"
"I saw your nipples stiffen up."
"Anyone's nipples would under the circumstance...including yours."
"I've never had anyone wash my nipples...or at least where my nipples used to be."
"You know what? I feel kinda guilty with your doing all of this to me. Why don't I return the favor, Matt?"
"What do you mean?"
"Why don't 'I' give YOU a bath?"
"I already told you I like to take showers."
"OK, I'll soap your back and chest in the shower."
"No! Taking a shower with another man WOULD be faggoty."
"Just pretend I'm a fellow Marine and we're showering together. I'm sure you must have showered with dozens of guys while you were in service."
"Maybe so, but not with ONE guy. There was always a bunch around."
Suddenly Hank stood up in the tub, allowing Matt to see ALL of him and said, "I won't take 'no' for an answer!" He stepped out of the tub and, quick as a flash, drew Matt's shirt over his head, stood Matt up and pulled down his shorts.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Matt shouted.
"I'm gonna bathe you like you bathed me."
"Like hell you are!"
Matt tried to fight off Hank as Hank placed his arms around Matt's midsection, picked him up and lowered him into the bathtub.
"Now how does that feel?"
"If I had two good hands, I'd strangle you."
"Then it's lucky for me you DON'T! Now sit still, I'm gonna soap you good!"
Matt took his good hand to cover up his genitals. Hank soaped up the washcloth and gently began to wash Matt's terribly scarred back. Touching Matt didn't seem to bother Hank at all. The shock of seeing Matt's body was over. Hank had learned how to cope with it in just one day.
"God, that DOES feel nice," Matt said, softly.
"I thought you'd like it."
"There's no one here except us, is there? I mean, Uncle Mike and the guys have already gone to work?"
"Just you and me, kiddo."
"You won't tell anyone about this, will you?"
"Why should I? We haven't done anything wrong. We both had a bath...only with a little help."
"I can't believe you're touching my leathery skin."
"Does it hurt?"
"No, like I said, yesterday, most of the nerves are dead and I don't feel much of anything."
Hank lowered the washcloth down to Matt's the top of Matt's buttocks.
"How about here?"
"THAT I can feel!"
"So any place that's not scarred, you have feeling sensation?"
"Yeah."
"How about your...your front? I mean, it's not scarred."
"You mean my dick?"
"Yes."
"Oh, I have plenty of feeling down there."
"Good for you. At least the explosion spared your best parts."
"I used to laugh about that in the hospital. Hell, if my dick had been burned, I WOULD have killed myself."
"Matt, I want you to promise me that you'll never talk about suicide while I'm around or any other time for that matter. Somehow, in three months, I've got to show you that you have a LOT to live for."
"Why aren't you on the site with Uncle Mike?"
"You might as well know. Mike is paying me to look after you. Well, that's putting it too harshly. Mike wants me to stay here and be your companion."
"For ALL summer?"
"Maybe...would you object to that?"
"I dunno. Maybe not. I DO get lonely."
"I was thinking last night, after the movie, that you and I could have a great summer together...watching DVD's, picking wildflowers while NOT running, getting into my jeep and going on picnics. Is there a place to swim?"
"There's a lake about three miles from here."
"Would you be brave enough to put on a swimming suit?"
"Only if it's you and me and no one else looking."
"Maybe we can get lucky and have the lake all to ourselves. Can you swim with..."
"With one arm and leg? Hell, yes. Uncle Mike doesn't know it. No one has taken me swimming since I got home, but they had a pool at the military hospital and I swam there nearly every day."
"Great! That's another outing we can plan."
Matt turned abruptly in the tub to face Hank. "Why are you doing this for me? I know you came up here to survey and, let's face it, being my companion is a far cry from measuring distances."
"Would you get angry if I said I liked you?"
"No..."
"Well, I do."
"I like you, too, Hank."
"Now, can I ask you a very personal question?"
"All right, but I won't promise I'll answer you."
"I was just going to suggest that you do what I was doing when you caught me while I go make us breakfast."
"You mean, jerk off?"
"You said you did it several times a day. I'll leave you alone and I promise not to disturb you. When you're ready to get out of the tub, let me know. I'll come help you. You can get dressed and we can eat breakfast together. Then we can plan our day."
"Hank, I know that Uncle Mike and the guys, especially Art, all try to placate me, but you're the first person in a long time that's treated me like a human being. I want to thank you for that."
"Hey, you ARE human, aren't you?" Hank asked, jokingly.
"I USED to be."
"You still are, dummy. Now get an image of some pretty girl in your mind and jerk off while I go get dressed and cook. Do you need a magazine to fantasize?"
"No, I don't need help fantasizing. My imagination isn't crippled."
Hank rinsed the soap off his hands, picked up his clothes and walked naked back to his room, leaving Matt alone in the tub with his fantasies. Hank dressed, went into the kitchen and started cracking eggs to scramble them and put a pat of butter in each one to melt inside the biscuits.
With the bathroom door closed, Matt began thinking sexual thoughts. Always when he masturbated, he was completely alone and would talk to himself in a very low and quiet tone, verbalizing his fantasies. He'd done that since he was a teen, years before going into the Marines. Soon an idea popped into his head and he grabbed his penis to give it a rigorous morning workout. Hank would have been astonished if he could hear Matt's murmuring. 'I was so close to his dick. I had my hands on his chest...all I had to do was reach down and grab him. God, what I would give to feel him in my mouth. I'd love to kiss him and run my hands all over his body. Oh, Hank! Hank! Hank! I could make love to you so easily! I want you, Hank...ALL of you. God forgive me, but I love you, Hank! I love you! I love you!' With that thought, Matt reached his climax.
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There was no doubt in either of their minds that Lance had married Lois for her money. On the other hand, Lois had married Lance for him to be her trick pony. Lois had been crowned queen at the Debutante's Cotillion and needed the most handsome eligible bachelor in town. Lois was vain about her looks and thought that Lance's matched hers and would make her look good wherever she went. Their marriage had failed miserably, starting with their wedding night, when Lois insisted on sleeping in separate beds apart from her new husband. She had spent four-hundred dollars on her hair and makeup for the wedding and didn't want Lance to mess it up by having quick shoddy sex. Two nights later, Lois finally let Lance make love to her...well, maybe not 'love' but she gave in and let him enter her private domain below her waist.
The two had quarreled constantly over the few years during which they had been married, but Lance always let her win the arguments since he didn't want to give up his newly-found access to her fortune. In turn, with so many social affairs and functions that Lois chaired or was involved with, she refused to go alone. So Lance had to be there with her every minute for the sake of appearances and for the media photographers. She didn't know that Lance was bisexual, and really wouldn't have cared, just as long as he kept his private life discreet and didn't cause a scandal which might embarrass her.
Lois Langley was somewhat irate today, when she called Lance at his office.
"Lance, darling, I never ask you to do anything for me, but I would like to ask you to drop by Antoine's Designs and pick up the swatches of cloth for the new draperies."
"Oh, Lois! Can't you wait until tomorrow and pick up the swatches yourself?"
"No, Lance, I'm busy ALL day tomorrow and I won't have time. Antoine's is on your way home. It's not out of the way in the least. You'll be in and out in less than two or three minutes."
"Oh, all right. What time does he close?"
"At five-thirty, but Antoine said he would do me a favor and wait on you until six."
"OK, I'll do it."
"Oh, Lance, you're a sweetheart. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Oh, I'm sure you'd find out very quickly, Lois."
"Shut up! You know you're the handsomest hunk in town. I'd never find anyone to look as good as you do."
"Or anyone else to make YOU look good."
"Same thing, darling."
"Goodbye, Lois!"
"Goodbye, sweetie."
Lance slammed the phone down, calling Lois a demanding cunt.
"Swatches, for God's sake!" Lance uttered.
He left his office at 5:30PM and stopped by Antoine's. The door was locked when Lance arrived. He used his wedding band to tap on the door's glass and soon a young man, about eighteen or nineteen years old answered the door. Marcel was very dashing and handsome with long blonde locks of hair falling down over his forehead. It wouldn't take a rocket scientist to figure out instantly that Marcel was gay. Lance wondered what kind of assistance Marcel offered Antoine...at work or at play?
"Is Antoine here?"
"No, but are you Monsieur Langley?" the young man spoke English with a heavy French accent.
"Yes."
"I'm Marcel, Antoine's assistant. He asked if I would wait here and give you the pieces of fabric your wife needed. Both Antoine and I hope she chooses the green instead of the blue. Blue draperies can be so dismal, looking at them day after day."
Marcel WAS handsome with his long blonde locks of hair falling down over his forehead with deep blue eyes and beautiful smooth skin covering his small but well-built body. Marcel stepped aside in an unspoken invitation for Lance to come in, then closed the door and went into the back of store to get the swatches.
"How long have you been Antoine's assistant?", Lance called after him.
"Only a few months."
"I knew I didn't see you when Antoine decorated our house." The statement suddenly seemed to ask an unvoiced question.
"I simply adore working for Antoine. He is so talented and has such good taste. It's an honor just being near him. He's building a fabulous clientele. 'House and Gardens Magazine' say in a review of Antoine that he is the Vera Wang of interior decorating."
"I know he charges about the same as Vera Wang. I nearly fainted when I got his bill."
"I'm sure he was worth every penny."
"My wife thinks so, but I still feel as if Antoine ripped us off."
"You shouldn't feel that way, Mr. Langley. You got the best in the business and THAT costs money."
"Might I ask if your accent is real or did you learn to speak that way at an interior decorating academy?"
"Oh, no, monsieur, I assure you that my accent is real. I'm from Paris...just off the Pont Neuf."
"And how did you get to be Antoine's assistant?"
"We met in New York at a design exhibit. After the show, Antoine invited me to dinner and later I spent the night at his hotel."
"So do you live with Antoine?"
"No, monsieur. I have my own apartment. There is no outside relationship with Antoine."
"Living in your own apartment, have you made many friends since you moved here?"
"Not too many. I don't have a roommate and I'm quite unattached, just in case your wondering."
"I hope you won't take this as an insult, Marcel, but being that you are an interior decorator, am I to presume you are gay?"
"Very much so."
"Boyfriend?"
"Oh, no, although I do keep looking. I don't want to miss that 'someone special' when I meet him."
"And how will you know when you meet him?"
"I'll feel it in my heart, monsieur."
"How old are you, Marcel?"
"Nineteen. May I ask how old you are?"
"I was twenty-six in June."
"Gemini or Cancer?"
"Gemini."
"Then that means you live a double life."
"What?"
"Gemini's can love more than one person at a time. Usually it's two or sometimes more."
"It's funny, but I'd never thought about me having Gemini characteristics."
"But you DO lead a double life, don't you?"
"How do you know that?"
"You Americans have a word for it. It's 'gaydar'."
"Gaydar?"
"That's when one gay person meets another gay person and each knows instantly that the other is gay without saying a word or asking a question."
"You think I'm gay?"
"No, but since you're married, I can only assume that you are at least bisexual."
"Your 'gaydar' told you that?"
"Let me ask. Didn't you know I was gay as soon as we met a few minutes ago."
"Well, the thought DID occur to me."
"GAYDAR! You have it, too!"
"So, Marcel, do you sleep around or are you saving yourself for the time when that 'special someone' comes into your life?"
"I don't like to use the phrase, 'sleep around', but I DO have sex with lots of guys."
"What else does your gaydar tell you about me, Marcel? Do you find me attractive?"
"Oh, VERY!"
Lance spoke the next without even thinking, just obeying the impulse of his crotch. "Suppose I should ask you to go to bed with me. Would you oblige me, would you do me the favor?"
"Oui, monsieur. Just name the time and the place!"
"How about your place...right now?"
"That might be arranged."
"Do you have a car or a way to get to your apartment?"
"Usually Antoine drops me off on his way home. But since I stayed late at work to meet you, Antoine gave me money to take a cab."
"I could drive you home...only whatever we do, it'll have to be sweet and quick. My wife is expecting me."
"If you could spare a half hour..."
"I think I could." Lance's eyes, half closed, spoke volumes.
"Then let me turn out the lights, set the alarm system, and lock up the store. We can leave immediately."
"Great!"
So Lance would be a few minutes late. What the hell--he had Lois' swatches and that's all she cared about. She would be happy even if he stayed at Marcel's apartment for an hour. The idea of cheating on Hank never crossed Lance's mind. It wasn't as if he were going to fall in love with Marcel. Quick impersonal sex was on Lance's agenda. Since he and Lois had no sex and he only met Hank, once a week on Wednesdays, Lance could see nothing wrong with having a fast fuck or suck with a nineteen year old boy. In that respect, Lance had to agree with Hank, sex once a week was not enough for any normal male.
Marcel's apartment was only five or six minutes away from Antoine's establishment. Thank goodness Marcel didn't live miles away in another part of the city. Lance was pleased that the shortness of the drive would give him more time to spend with this young Frenchman who was giving him an urgent need for satisfaction.
No sooner had Marcel opened his door and the two of them entered than Marcel turned to face Lance, kissing him immediately. Lance really knew that the French kid was hot--Marcel's sudden kiss gave the meaning of 'French kiss', a new interpretation that immediately impressed itself on Lance's groin.
Marcel was not only passionate, he was also hungry for sex. After the kiss, Marcel fell to his knees and began unbuckling Lance's belt, sliding down Lance's zipper, and pulling Lance's pants down to his shoes. Lance was going 'commando' today and Marcel found he had no boxers or briefs to contend with. He made a quick dive toward Lance's penis and popped it into his mouth in a French flash, the oral heat driving Lance to feel too close too fast.
"Wait! Hold on a minute, Marcel. I know our time together is short, but not THAT short. Can't both of us get undressed and go lie on your bed?"
"I was just taking advantage of another American word, 'fluffing'. I was merely fluffing your cock, so it would get harder faster."
"Yeah, but it will also cause me to cum a lot quicker."
"Very well. Do you want us to undress each other or get nude all by ourselves?"
"Let's just take it slow and easy. I'll undress myself while YOU undress."
"Good! Let's go into my bedroom then. You can put your suit on the back of a chair in there."
Marcel led the way into his bedroom where both stripped. Then each stood on his side of the bed admiring the other's body.
"I can see you're a real blonde." Lance joked.
"I can see your hair is natural as well."
"You're beautiful without clothes, Marcel."
"I can say the same about you."
"Antoine is a damned fool for not making you his PERMANENT assistant. He should invite you to live with him."
"If you knew Antoine better, you'd know that he could never settle on just one guy. Antoine picks his bed partners like he's reading a menu...according to height, weight, age, color of hair, eyes, et cetera. It depends on what kind of mood he's in before he decides. One can get tired of eating roast beef every day. One needs a variety."
"I suppose you're right," Lance replied. "Now can I ask if you're a top or a bottom?"
"A bottom. What about you?"
"I can be both. I have no preference, but I WOULD like to take your cock in my mouth."
"You can have anything your heart desires."
"Let's lie down."
Both moved to the bed, lying flat on their backs. Lance reared up and placed himself between Marcel's legs to reach what he came for. Marcel bucked his hips in tempo with Lance's oral ministrations. Marcel threw his head back on the pillow and writhed with pleasure, coming quickly in less than three minutes. Without either saying a word, Lance rolled Marcel over onto his stomach while he reached in his pants pocket to get a condom. Once the prophylactic was in place, Lance mounted Marcel's buttocks and rode Marcel like a rodeo steer. Lance acquired his climax in five minutes. Both were satisfied in less than ten minutes.
Marcel turned over to face Lance and once again, they kissed.
"You were great!" Lance exclaimed.
"Monsieur Langley...?"
"Call me Lance, please! It's not as if we're strangers now."
"All right, Lance,...can I ask if this is a one-time thing or would you like to come back again."
"Marcel, it would suit me if we met, say once a week?...say, every Thursday when you get off from work?"
"I would like that, Lance. Thursday is in the middle of the week and it would give me something to look forward to."
"Then I'll pick you up at Antoine's next Thursday. Will that be all right?"
"I'll start counting the days, hours, and minutes as soon as you leave."
"I should get dressed and get home. I don't want my wife to get suspicious."
"No, and I don't want to be a 'third party' in a divorce settlement if she finds out about our Thursday meetings!"
"Don't worry. I can handle my wife."
Lance dressed as quickly as he had undressed. Marcel stayed nude and reclined on the bed as he watched Lance cover his private parts. Once his tie was set and his coat donned, Lance leaned over on the bed to give Marcel a parting kiss, groped his flaccid cock, and then he left.
Lance was pleased with his afternoon. Damn! Come fall, Lance could meet Hank every Wednesday and Marcel every Thursday. Lance started to wonder who else he could add to his weekly sexual appetite to fill the other five days.
As soon as Marcel was certain Lance had driven out of the apartment's parking lot, Marcel got his wallet from his pants to get a folded piece of white paper. He looked at it and picked up his phone and dialed.
"Hello?"
"Madame Langley?"
"Yes?"
"This is Marcel. You know, Marcel, from Antoine's?"
"Oh, YES! MARCEL!"
"I thought you'd like to know that your husband just left my apartment?"
"AND...?"
"He took the bait. He fell for it. He came here and we had sex. I caught the whole thing on digital video! All I have to do is dub it onto a DVD."
"That's wonderful. When can I get it and how much do I owe you?"
"I'll be at the store tomorrow and the price you mentioned to me will be quite satisfactory."
"Then I'll see you tomorrow afternoon."
"I'll see you then."
"Good night, Marcel...and THANKS!"
"Vous etes bienvenu, Madame. Au revoir."
Lois hung up the phone, then laughed her satisfaction to the silent walls.
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(To be continued in "The Passion Of Matthew" chapter five.)