This story is a work of complete fiction. Any resemblance of characters to real persons and reality is a coincidence. This story eventually includes descriptions of sex between adult males. If you are a minor, if this material is illegal where you live, or if this material offends you, please don't read it. Please donate to Nifty. Find the donation button on the Nifty web site to help you to pay your share of their expenses to provide these entertaining stories for you. All rights reserved.
David's Contribution: Andrew and Eric-Chapter 1
A tall blonde man, age 22, sat in front of a sidewalk cafe, The Oak and Crown Pub, in Hollywood, California. Shaded by a royal blue and red striped awning, he watched the traffic on the street and the sidewalk, long light-brown eyelashes shading his blue eyes from the brilliant sunshine.
He had just finished breakfast: Wilshire potatoes, an American style omelet with everything but the kitchen sink tossed in. The menu had neither baked beans, mushrooms, nor tomatoes, and he didn't see a rack of toast on anyone's table. He was sure his first day in from London was not the day to make a scene about it.
Andrew Lodge-Miller had been able to order anything he wanted at the Schuyler Campus in Manhattan right up through his teen years and once again appreciated how unique that was.
He was aware from movies that some American mothers, receiving orders for a certain food for a meal would utter the classic response, "What do you think this is, a restaurant?" Ironic, he decided, that those celluloid kids had a better chance of getting mushrooms and beans for breakfast than he did at a real restaurant, fanciful as it was.
A positive, cheerful kind of guy, he thought he'd fit in better in Hollywood staying under the radar at first.
Fit, good-looking, full lips, nice ass, decent, clean... he pondered his assets as he finished his coffee. Those full lips curled up a little, flashing white, even teeth.
I'm probably the only single guy in town today that doesn't want an acting job or money or a gorgeous actress. I could use a wingman, I think. Someone who knows the area, who has time, doesn't need my money, kind, is good-looking, is a great dancer, has moves, likes to fuck... He brushed that thread of thought away and focused a little more precisely on his plan that brought him to SoCal.
His time in Europe after growing up in New York had been eye-opening. He loved Paris any time of year. Barcelona, Amsterdam, Cologne, Vienna, a whirlwind.
London had been a brief stop for six months to breathe a little before planning the next part of his life. Andrew had fallen in love with London, acquired a pseudo-British accent, a love for English breakfast, and a real passion for fish and chips, not to mention mushy peas.
Wandering had also been fun but at some point, at some early hour in some city, he'd wondered if there was more somewhere.
Crooking a finger to summon the watching wait staff, he handed the approaching waiter an American Express Centurion card. "I'm sorry sir, we don't accept AMEX."
Andrew closed his eyes, lifted his eyebrows, put on a tight smile, then opened his eyes, flashed the waiter a bright open smile, about 50,000 watts bright, and got the expected 'deer in the headlights' look reflected back.
"So sorry, mate. I didn't ask what cards you took. Here's a Visa instead. Along with the card came a piece of American currency. Keep the green paper, 'Trail of Tears Jackson' - and thank you for your expert service this morning."
"Yes, sir," the waiter actually backed away, nearly upending a rather large patroness of the same establishment who had imbibed a liquid breakfast.
Andrew sat for a bit longer after getting his Visa and receipt back. He knew where he had to go next, hadn't done it before, and wanted to do it right the first time, wasn't nervous, just focused.
Vihaan Raj's 'Hollywood Casting Services' company was located close to Paramount. He had worked really hard to form his own company, employed 9 people full time, one an IT wonder from Kolkata, and 7 part-time to scout people, kept an attorney and an accountant busy nearly full-time, and raked in money like gravel off a gravel pile in the garden.
At ten am, his secretary Sai used the intercom to announce an 'important' visitor. He, the secretary, had full authority to make the designation of 'important' and was usually correct, based on a quick program on his laptop that used most of the broadband available to the company's account to perform a lightning fast data-mining operation for any given name and driver's license or passport scan. This scan happened at Sai's desk.
Visitor's faces were captured by a camera at the entrance to the offices before they neared Sai's sanctum and a facial recognition scan generally was complete before they were allowed into Sai's presence.
In this case, Sai knew that Andrew's mother was Valentine Lodge-Miller, his father was Isaac Lodge-Miller, and that Isaac and Valentine had more money than most governments of small countries. That was enough for Sai to use the term 'important visitor'. Vihaan sat up straight.
The next twenty minutes left Vihaan puzzled.
Andrew had introduced himself, sat for a few seconds just looking out the window as if trying to summon up the courage or the words, Vihaan wasn't sure. Then Andrew spoke.
"Mr. Raj, I'm having some difficulty and could use some help. Money is not an issue here. I have exactly four weeks to find a life partner here in Southern California."
"I am unable to tell you anything about the 'four weeks' part and can tell you, subsequent to you and your secretary signing a non-disclosure agreement (NDA), some things I require regarding a prospective partner."
"My guess is that one of the reasons you are so successful in your business is that your data-mining abilities are honed well. I would guess that you know a great deal about me already, even since walking in the outer office door."
Vihaan, surprised, impressed, grinned. "Spot on, Andrew."
That part most clients didn't know.
"Here is a copy of the NDA," Andrew told him, "and if you call Sai in, we can get started with the rest."
Documents now signed, marked confidential and copied for all three, Andrew continued.
"I prefer a male partner, having reached his 21st birthday less than 8 months ago. I want a sane man, good-looking, either bisexual, confused or curious, in or out of the closet if gay, healthy, no habits, no addictions, masculine, uber-intelligent, single right this minute anyway, honest, loyal, kind, faithful, a giver and a taker, not wealthy, musical (liking classical music), a good dresser or has 'cleans up well' status... and I may think of other items along the way."
"In other words, you are looking for yourself?"
"Isn't everyone?"
"Not everyone realizes it, but most people with a healthy ego figure they can't go far wrong with a clone of themselves."
"You understand correctly, I think. The reason I came to you is that you have the largest database of people that might have those characteristics in this area."
Vihaan nodded. "We do; my worry is doing justice to the characteristics you've listed. I can find people who look blonde, for instance, but assessing honesty and loyalty isn't the usual 'casting' problem, is it."
"I was hoping your contacts would include people who could screen for all of the things I mentioned, say, perhaps, as a screen for a position as an actor in an important part."
"It would be. Important, I mean," said Vihaan, his eyes on Andrew's face. There is one thing, I think, that you have not told me yet. I can guess and you can tell me if I'm all wet or whether this is so important to you that you are nearly unable to bring it up."
Vihaan went on. "Allow me to say it, please."
Andrew blinked and frowned. "I, uh, well... yeah?"
"Some wealthy people fear the strength and nature of a partner's interest in them. They may be frightened that a potential partner may love them for their money and not for themselves. Love has been defined many ways. Most people are satisfied that love is an intelligent appreciation of another person. That implies that love requires knowledge of a person. If that knowledge focuses only on money, how can true love be present?"
Andrew exhaled with a whoosh. He closed his eyes tight and shook his head back and forth for a second. "Yes."
Vihaan said, "That isn't easy to confront. Sai's family was rich when we met in Mumbai and my family were cleaners in a brothel in a run-down section of town. I still to this day look at waste baskets in an office and find myself looking at the liners to see if they have been tied in a proper knot."
"Sai told me afterward that he liked me a lot right away but agonized over the disparity in wealth and wondered if I was the kind of guy that would be dazzled by the gold. The question in his mind had to do with my ability to value him above his money."
"His family, surprisingly, understood his concern since his own parents had been through that precise process and resolved it."
Vihaan told Andrew that Sai and he had dated for some time without Vihaan knowing anything about Sai's wealth, then for a time when Vihaan had clues that made him wonder, and finally the introduction to enormous wealth occurred; by that time they were 'madly in love' and had been friends for long enough for the money (and family) not to interfere.
"That's my problem too. I must know that my potential partner, my lover, wants me for me, not for my money."
"We're clear on that. Sai and I will enjoy this one. Fear not. How do you wish to stay in touch and how do you wish to compensate us for our services?"
"I'll wire your bank a retainer from Schuyler Bank in New York this afternoon if we can agree on an amount."
"How about an initial retainer of $1 million and we'll bill additional expenses that are authorized by you in advance or we can do the needful without authorization if you wire another $1 million at a time."
"I'll have the first million wired today and will chip in another million without need for authorization from me when needed. Sai can email me the invoices and a running detailed ledger with the declining balances for that amount."
"I will start the process this afternoon, then," said Vihaan. "Please call or come in anytime, but we should meet in a week for sure and exchange progress notes and ideas."
"Do you have a racial or religious preference?"
"I don't have a racial preference. I took Comparative Religions in college and although conversant with the major world religions, I didn't sign up with any one church. I'm uncomfortable with a human telling me that he's between God and me and has the authority to make the rules for me.
I'm uncomfortable with multiple Gods, it's not my tradition and I wouldn't know which one to pay the most attention to and I'm certainly not comfortable with religion that grants anyone permission to harm another just because they are unbelievers."
"I will probably stick with my generic Judeo-Christian thing and an ideal partner would sort out that way as well; hopefully my mind is open enough to flex and bend with that, however, because the religion and race thing sometimes has blurry lines."
Andrew left the office and Sai saw him take an Uber away to Hollywood. The wire from Schuyler Bank landed two hours later in Santander Bank's 'Hollywood Casting Services' Account. It was a routine transaction, dollar amounts condensed with routing numbers and account numbers (along with a short digital note with the names of the account principle owner and co-owner on the receiving end); all that was further broken down into zeros and ones for transmission on the private network (SWIFT).
Sai had checked the company bank account online each hour after Andrew left the office. There it was. The eagle has landed.
Vihaan and Sai sat huddled in their office planning an approach to a solution. Two hours later, they had an outline and another two hours after that a detailed plan they felt might find Andrew's man.
They noted on the typed record of the recorded interview with Andrew the specific character qualities and physical qualities.
They broke down the physical qualities into appearance, gender and age (the appearance a little vague other than 'good-looking').
The character items they broke into four columns, 'likes', 'health', 'character', and 'other'. The guy would have to like men, classical music, and nice clothes. He would have to be disease free, without health risks like smoking and other addictions such as drugs or alcohol. Most nebulous to assess, he would be loyal, not rich, masculine, honest, faithful, intelligent, kind, a giver, sometimes a taker. Under 'other', the was meant to be single right now and not rich.
That added up to about 17 or so characteristics of one person, not an impossible order. They had found actors for parts in blockbuster movies whose producer-generated lists of qualities were much longer. The difference in this case was assessing personal qualities like loyalty which producers usually gave two shits about.
Vihaan and Sai began to think about age first. He had said age 21 must have been reached less than 8 months ago, so new partner couldn't be less than 21 years old or have reached 22 just yet. His economic group would have to be middle or poor, not rich, easy enough for a data-miner to track.
Gender was easy.
A Private Investigator (a PI) could identify music preferences with one phone call and probably clothing brands and favorite men's clothing stores at the same time. Medical reports existed for data-mining. One of Sai's favorite giggles was the American notion that their medical records were private.
Most Americans believed that their medical records were safe and private even though computerized. Any hacker worth their salt could find allergies, diseases, habits and lots more including gender preferences online.
As for giving, one could look at political databases, church records, a PI or their secretary could tell someone they were doing a survey and probably get an answer about giving.
That same 'survey' could identify marital status. Most people offered ten bucks for participating in a survey would, as long as financial questions and social security numbers weren't asked. They would offer $50 to sink the hook good and deep.
An advertisement in the LA Times would ask for actors with no previous experience to apply for a major role in the upcoming remake of a 1950's classic tale about a poor musician who makes it big in the New York Philharmonic, offering on the job training and a good salary to be determined. Apply Hollywood Casting Services, etc. or call the telephone number listed. Sane handsome men, healthy, no habits, masculine, smart, open-minded go the front of the line.
Wealthy, spoiled guys need not apply. Need next door neighbor qualities.
Vihaan and Sai would meet at 0700 for breakfast, eat together, delegate the schedule for that day to others and continue to work on Andrew's case. The next ten minutes was spent preparing a backup plan. They didn't plan to lose this retainer or a subsequent installment if they could help it.
Andrew's future partner awakened early at 6:30 am. He stretched and reflected that he should be someone's alarm clock, preferable a guy who was warm and good-looking, a nice person, a lover.
Eric Nelson had been in love before. In high school, he'd fallen hard for a fellow sophomore, a blond guy he dared not approach for lack of certainty about how the kid would respond.
Eric had brains and had seen how certain kids were treated after being labeled with certain gender preferences.
He was risk averse in high school. Except for his usual all-out attack on school work, he was not violent, didn't take unnecessary risks and for his available funds (not much), he dressed ok.
His mom was a cashier at a coffee shop a few blocks away. She wasn't paid a lot and his dad was kind of absent, sending in money infrequently. When his dad chipped in, his mom just sighed.
Eric had no idea someone was looking for him. He didn't read the LA Times, just the Oregonian on occasion and when his hormones overwhelmed him, the Willamette Week.
Any paper he read was second-hand. If he ate at the coffee shop, there was usually an 'already read' copy of a paper on the counter and he would take it home.
He showered, dressed and headed out to the garden.
Eric wanted to prune the fig tree today. There were strawberries to beat into submission (the plants sent runners off every which way every year and he had to transplant some of those), there were aphids to pick off a couple of plants, he wanted to check on the persimmon tree and if there was time, the Concord grapes needed to be pruned as well.
He would check the apple trees, let the chickens out for the day, and check to see if any eggs had been laid and bring those in, writing today's date in pencil on each egg, a way to keep track of which eggs to eat first.
The fig tree looked better after its 'haircut' and Eric put the pruner away in the shed. He went back to the garden and peered at the strawberry plants. The garden dirt was covered with a few layers of newspaper to keep weeds down and retain moisture.
His eyes spotted a copy of the Willamette Week that he'd thrown down the day before. The words 'BIG MONEY JOB" hit his eye. He picked up the paper, shook it off, sat down on the green painted old metal chair in the garden and read the advertisement.
Some company in California was advertising interviews for work that paid very well apparently.
He read the ad twice, didn't see much specific information to help him form an opinion about the ad, began to throw the paper back down, thought again, shook it, folded it, kept thinking, then took the paper inside to his room to read later.
At noon, he was done in the garden and came in to make a peanut butter and honey sandwich. Mom was allowed to bring bread home from the coffee shop. He grabbed an apple and remembered the paper.
The apple was half-eaten. He read the ad again. The telephone number in the ad invited callers to contact the company.
On impulse, Eric picked up his cell phone, a folding model, not nearly as smart as he was, and soon was speaking to a man whose voice sounded a bit like the guys from the help centers in India.
"Good afternoon, I'm calling about the ad in the Willamette Week in Portland, Oregon."
Sai smiled. Another minnow exploring. "Thank you for calling, Mr. ... uh ... "
"Oh, excuse me, Eric Nelson here, calling from Portland, OR. I was hoping to get more information about your ad in the Willamette Weekly about an interview..."
"Sure," said Sai, "We are scheduling interviews here in Hollywood this week. We will pay for a round-trip ticket from Portland to Los Angeles, provide a car and hotel and spending money for meals, a per diem allowance of $75 for a maximum of 3 days."
"The interview is for a position that we are unable to advertise in advance due to contract limitations. The position could require a move but not necessarily. You must be male and possess good character. Are you always honest?"
"I try, but no, not always."
"That's an honest response, an encouraging start."
"Are you loyal?"
"I don't know, I've not had anyone to be loyal toward, save my mom. I don't know my father."
"How about your girl-friend?"
"I don't have one, never wanted one."
Sai entered Vihaan's office a few minutes later.
"I think we got a live one."
Sai explained who had called. Vihaan listened carefully and asked what the computer had said.
"He's healthy, takes no medicines, hasn't any allergies, doesn't smoke, doesn't drink alcohol, not sure about drugs, bought a copy of Vegetable Gardening for Beginners at Powell's in Beaverton, Oregon, told me he's not always honest but tries to be. The only picture is a 2-year-old yearbook picture. He isn't Bollywood handsome like you but wouldn't break a camera either. No girl-friend, never wanted one. Bank account exists, balance less than $75 now, never more than $100."
"You're bringing him down to meet his interviewer?"
"I called Andrew and he's set to interview in one of our spare offices here in three days. I've asked the building manager to add his name to the door and we'll print some business cards for him."
Eric arrived at the airport, noted that someone might easily miss the driver in the crowd. He hadn't a clue that the driver had already seen a picture of him, knew the flight to meet and was motivated to find him at all cost and get him to his modest hotel in Hollywood.
Eric saw the raised sign with his name on it, waving at the arrivals area, and connected with the driver.
The driver looked at his luggage, assessed it as a 'piece of shit' quietly but welcomed Eric to LA and opened the black Lincoln's back door for Eric after loading the POS luggage into the trunk and closing the trunk.
Eric buckled in and kept his mouth shut. The driver looked back in the mirror from time to time and saw Eric biting his lower lip on occasion; the driver didn't say anything and concentrated on the traffic.
Eric, a little tired and stressed, was having some second thoughts. He felt like a few more details about this interview would have been nice. His mom had encouraged him to come to LA and explore the possibilities, however. He trusted her judgment usually, but this wasn't her going on the trip, right?
It took an hour to arrive at the motel, some stucco units painted a flamingo pink, others white, all surrounded by palm trees. The sign out front was an old-fashioned neon sign. The motel had one-story units, an office, a pool in back and a bar next to the pool.
The guy in the office took his name, confirmed the reservation and gave him a card key to Unit 110, a pamphlet about the rules and amenities, and told him to have a 'nice day.'
Eric brought his suitcase inside the room, put it on the stand provided, took a leak, looked out the back window at the pool and those lounging around it, hunks all, most men, then threw back the bedspread and fell onto the bed, asleep within a minute after that.
He awoke in the evening. He instantly remembered where he was but felt a little discombobulated, remembered there was a pool, looked out again, saw a trio of guys swimming and was astonished to see that none of them had a swim suit on.
"I guess that solves the problem of what to wear in the pool," he said to himself.
A few minutes later, clad only in a towel, and having left his key at the front desk, he arrived at the swimming pool, looked around, saw the pool ladder, decided to just jump in, and shucked his towel. He parked the towel on an unoccupied lounge chair.
Four pairs of eyes swung in his direction and down some... and stared. Three of the four pairs looked away then. The fourth kept looking from his place in the pool.
"Jump in! The water's fine."
Eric dived in without a hint of a splash from the diving board and came up, water streaming off his face, and 'fourth pair' instantly was erect under water.
Many months later, Andrew was able to describe the 'meet-cute' to his parents as the defining moment of his life, a gorgeous hunk of man disappearing below the water without a hint of a splash, then his handsome head, water pouring off his sleek brown hair and fine-chiseled face, his powerful shoulders and arms, and a chest built for power.
He did not tell them about Eric's cock and balls, which had taken his breath away, or his ass, which caused him to breathe again.
Andrew's initial impression was that this guy couldn't possibly exist on the planet but the evidence in front of him seemed to argue otherwise. He swam over closer.
"I'm Andrew."
"How do you do? Eric Nelson."
Polite, good-looking.
"What brings you to LA, Eric?"
"Job interview, not sure exactly what kind of a job."
"I know what kind of job it is," thought Andrew, "boy, do I know."
"Do I hear a British accent?"
"I spent a little time there recently," Andrew replied. "Have you been?"
"The farthest place I ever traveled out of Portland was Los Angeles. This was my first airplane ride today."
"Did you enjoy it?"
"Yeah, except my cock got hard when the plane took off, kind of like right now."
Andrew's eyes strained to see below the water, but it was too dark.
"Right now?"
"Yeah. Swimming pools, airplane takeoffs, I guess and hot guys, I'm guessing."
"I know. I'm hard too."
"Letting it all hang out and relaxing is a therapeutic thing," Eric grinned.
"You want to come to my room and talk about it?"
There was a long silence.
"If I came to a stranger's place with anyone, I'd choose a kind, handsome guy like you. But I'm not ready for a hook-up, Andrew. I know I like guys and they make me hard, but I don't know much about social interactions with strangers."
"Mom told me to be careful on this trip. She's never met you, though. Would you mind if I just declined your offer?"