REJOIN SCHUYLER - Jack Jr. and Eric
Chapter 1
Gay Erotic Fiction
by Simon Mohr
I included nothing intended to resemble any person living or otherwise in this work of fiction. It is for adults. If this material is illegal where you live or you are a minor, please do not read it. Please donate to the Nifty Archive using the donor information on this site.
On the first day of college in Cambridge, Massachusetts, Jack Darnell Jr. hurried across the college yard, ignoring the tall maples and the immaculately trimmed vegetation. Students deserted the Quad at mealtime. His thoughts skimmed over his class schedule that he had memorized. He had a picture in his head of a page. His printer had spit out the page where each class, location by building and room, and the professor's name were listed. His first classes began in two days.
Son of former President Barbara Schuyler-Darnell and Jack Darnell, he had led a privileged life since birth. In his childhood years, he had lived in the White House for eight years. Jack Jr. now had a private suite in the Manhattan Schuyler Museum and had full access to the fortune and private jet fleet as a vital member of the Schuyler family.
He had attended the same school in Washington D.C. as did most Presidents' children, then an exclusive prep school where he had lost no time applying himself to the books as per his parent's pep talks. Jack excelled at everything he studied, which reflected a choice to discipline himself and his study time. Nothing interfered with his learning time, his preparation for his future.
His haunt of choice was the school library. After age 16, most students met the facts of life head on, either from stories at school or talks at home; Jack Jr. had augmented his 'classmate' learning by getting well acquainted with the library.
His Secret Service team worked for his parents and worked continuously to keep Jack from some activities, or so it seemed. Neither of his parents sat down and gave him the talk. He wasn't sure if they had a problem with giving the speech or whether, perhaps, they felt his demonstrated lack of interest in the subject of sex meant he'd never need a 'talk.'
Toward the end of prep school, Jack Jr. had taken the SAT exams and aced them. His recognizable name, class Salutatorian status, high SAT scores, and Schuyler gifts to the college over decades amounting to millions of dollars he was unaware of all came together to ensure his acceptance.
Jack Jr.'s mother, Barbara, died of lung cancer during his years at prep school; his dad was unreservedly retired but not lonely and seemed to have plenty of men friends, a few from his dad's high school years in Flourtown, Pennsylvania. His dad had moved back to the estate there to garden and hobnob with his friends. Jack Jr.'s two sisters divided their time between Flourtown and Manhattan (in Hannah's case) or Miami (in his baby sister's case).
Jack Jr.'s secretary was a gem. She not only was his best friend, but Jenna never forgot a detail, slight as it might seem. Jenna knew his shoe sizes, sock sizes, wardrobe preferences and indexed them on a computer. She had his Social Security number, date of birth, list of friends with names, addresses, and cell numbers, and according to him, all of their social media handles and probably their passwords too. If he needed a replacement sock, he signed into the internet to his web page and clicked a box. The item arrived the next day, sometimes the same day if he called Jenna by 5 p.m.
Jack Jr. had prepaid all of his college expenses. He had a card to swipe everywhere, library, cafeteria, etc., but his bill that Jenna received always had a zero balance. He had called his dad the night before to 'check-up' on him.
"Dad! Good to hear you. How are you holding up?"
"I miss you, son. But I'm fine. The guys are coming over for poker tonight."
"Leave them some money and some pride, dad. You know you're a shark. All those years in the White House killing time with poker geniuses like me changed you."
"No, the stress of raising you three kids did it, Jack. Have you heard from the girls?"
"They both sent a text yesterday to encourage some guy they called their brother, a freshman at this same college in Cambridge. Odd coincidence, that."
"Good. I promised the girls I would pay them to send those texts to you. I'll have to pay up or——wait; I could go bankrupt and not pay them.
"Enough, dad. Have fun playing poker. I'll call you in a few days.
Jenna had sent Jack Jr. a list of all the books and supplies listed as required for the courses he had signed to take. "Do you want me to have them bought and delivered to your dorm room, or do you want the full college experience of waiting in line at the bookstore yourself?"
Unknown to both, Jenna had just unwittingly set up a 'meet-cute.'
"I want the whole experience."
"OK, the list is double-checked and in your inbox. Good luck tomorrow. Call me anytime if you need rescuing or something. You do have your credit card, and besides, the credit on your account is massive and available to charging sources at the college that might need to charge anything they sell. I checked at the bookstore, and they said you could say "Charge it, please" when you schlep your cart full of books and trinkets up to the counter. I had your computer delivered early this morning. Did it arrive?"
"It did, thank you. I brought my iPad and iPhone with me, along with chargers. Can you have an uninterruptible power supply delivered for the laptop, one of the tall, heavy units with muscle? Power here goes out temporarily in the winter. The electrical system at the college is overloaded, as you can imagine. Power surges and brownouts happen in Cambridge. The college is talking to the company that makes these enormous batteries for houses and may accept a gift of five hundred of those to clean up the power problem. We'll see."
"Do you have all the, um, personal items you need for dating, Jack?" Jenna didn't shy away from elephants; she summoned them.
"How do you spell this 'dating' thing?" he replied. "I'm not taking any class in 'dating.'"
"OK." Just dotting the i's and crossing the t's."
"You are worth every penny of your salary, Jenna."
"That's true!"
"Call you in a few days if I survive the Yard."
"I'll cross my fingers that the minuscule risk of your demise doesn't strike," replied Jenna.
The next day, the first order of business took Jack to the official college bookstore, which had prepared for the year by stocking one copy of each required book per enrollment in each class. The book-buying spree began early in the morning. Hundreds of students had the same idea. Two hours into the line, the line snaked behind him as far as the eye could see.
Jack spent time looking at books for the different disciplines, mathematics, chemistry, biology, medicine, dentistry, legal studies, and nursing. The line advanced into the history department holdings, and Jack picked up a book about The Economy of Ancient Rome and became fascinated.
Often, while his mom visited the Elysée Palace in Paris, doing whatever the President did there, Jack Jr. spent time with his dad at the Louvre.
His favorite section was Rome's Emperors' marble busts, not copies, but the original figures carved just before, during, or after their reigns. Domitian, Titus, Augustus, Julius Caesar, Flavian, Nero, Caligula, and more in one room. The student behind him coughed. "Dude, are you planning on catching up with the line today?"
He turned and froze. The girl behind him had deserted the line, and the guy behind her in line stood smiling at him. The student was blonde, had piercing blue eyes, a patrician nose, smooth, flawless skin, dressed well, and looked right into Jack's eyes. His expression was as stunned as Jack Jr.'s was.
"Uh, oh, sorry. I was looking at a Roman Econ book." Jack wondered why he was explaining this to someone.
"I see that. First exposure?"
"In what sense? I didn't live in Ancient Rome if that's what you meant."
The guy grinned. "I'm Eric Bole, um . . ." He reached out a strong hand with a firm grip and promptly let go. Jack thought Eric's hand was hot and had the shock of his life.
Jack's cock, 'Sweet Jack,' twitched and almost began to swell without touching it.
"Jack Darnell, Jr., my pleasure. How do you do?" And now he was babbling, still locked on to Eric's eyes. Finally, they both looked away for long enough to break that exchange for a second.
"Mom and I toured the room at the Louvre in Paris more times than I cared to count," said Eric. "My favorite room there are the Emperor's statues, 'busts' I guess. My mom's stepfather, my step-grandfather Darren, insisted we visit Europe often. He told mom that the Grand Tour would open my eyes to the world in a way, and she believed her stepdad. After all, he had a chunk of money left to him by his friends at this Schuyler museum and could afford to send his extended family, so mom, her boyfriend, and I traveled some."
Startled, Jack thought back. His mom's brother, his uncle, Michael, was the beneficiary of the Schuyler Trust for years. He and his partner Marcus lived at the museum in Manhattan. Jack Jr. still had a suite at the museum since he was still family. Michael and Marcus were dead now, but they had taken a lover named Darren something or other. Jack Jr. hadn't met him, didn't know he had a sister, or, for that matter, any other family but knew that Eric had remembered Darren in his will.
"Was your Uncle living in Manhattan, by any chance?"
"Oh my God! How did you know that?"
"Just a wild-ass guess."
"Right. Out of how many cities in the U.S.? Damn good guess."
"That's how I got into this school. Superior intellect, I guess. How did you get accepted?"
Jack deflected well. It was a skill learned from his White House years. His parents had taught him how to handle the media: Rule one was to avoid them. Rule two: deflect, do it again, smile, and either say "No comment" or "I'd better let my mom and dad handle that one."
"Both a baseball scholarship and superior intellect, I'd say," Eric grinned. "Are you a sports fan?"
"My dad is the sports guru," said Jack, rolling his eyes. "He knows every statistic in every league going back years and updates every day. He has some kind of photographic memory for those numbers."
"What does your mom do?"
"She passed away several years ago. Lung cancer. Never smoked a day in her life."
"It happens. My dad died the same way, and I miss him. My mom and I are tight, but I wish I could talk to my dad. He attended this college and would enjoy hearing about his son's experiences. I'd like to pick his brain."
Jack's hand just gravitated to Eric's shoulder somehow. "You can talk to me if you want." Suddenly, his hand shot off Eric's shoulder as if a bee had stung his hand. What the hell was he doing?
"I better focus on getting my books, then it's off to my dorm room. I was the first guy there. My roommate hasn't checked in yet. I'm just going to buy this book as well as the ones on my list. Nice to meet you, Eric."
"Yeah, Jack Jr."
A half-hour after Jack returned to his room, there was a knock at his dormitory door.
Jack didn't look up as the door opened. "Enter!"
"What are you doing here?" Eric had a shocked look on his face.
"I might ask you the same thing."
"Are we going to room together this year?" Eric was worried he'd look stupid for not checking in advance who his roommate might be.
"Looks like it." Jack was a little rattled. He'd just experienced another twinge down there, and his heart was racing a little. Jack briefly wondered what Eric would look like without his clothes on—the thought made his groin jump. He couldn't understand why.
Jack Jr. had never had any thought of being attracted to girls or boys, truth told. It was a subject that just rarely entered his mind. He'd read that sex crosses the mind of the average American male some eleven times per hour or something, a number he'd thought highly suspect given his own experience.
"Have you thought about a major?" Eric was curious.
"I might choose European History; I know that I could add European Art History for a blended major if my advisor approves. How about you?"
"I have a thing for Business and Economics." There was a time when my grandfather, Darren, had no money. He was given a bequest from a New Yorker back in the day, invested it with a great New York fund manager's care, then willed it to my mom. If I stay in her good graces, she'll probably will it to me someday. I'm not in a rush for that. I want to learn how to manage it, though."
Jack thought he would mention the Schuyler Trust's current fund manager at some point but was hesitant to bring up his Schuyler background early on. His mother and father had taught him that one could say anything, but the opposite action, 'unsaying' something was stressful and difficult, if not impossible.
The two men talked about room arrangements, likes, dislikes, and their preferences for daily routines. They were fortunate to have one en-suite bathroom with tub and shower, marble shower walls. Jack's tuition level included daily 'maid' service, in practice a combination valet and butler person who happened to be male. Jack had requested 'male' at registration time and had checked the appropriate box.
Jack and Eric discussed recreation, sports, alcohol, drugs (neither used), tobacco (neither utilized). They talked about what to do if the other had a, um, visitor and agreed that the traditional tie on the door visible on the hall side of the door would suffice.
The time was late afternoon. Eric wondered aloud if they might get a quick round of tennis in before dinner in the dining hall. Jack brightened up at that idea, and they awkwardly changed into their tennis outfits and tennis shoes. They brought their rackets and a can of balls, towels for the shower, not knowing that the balls and the towels were complimentary.
They whacked the tennis balls around for a half-hour before walking to the showers. The showers were closed marble units on three sides with an open fourth side as the 'door,' making them semi-private. The enormous, mirrored wall opposite the row of tennis showers destroyed the privacy part if one was looking.
They both glanced at each other naked in the shower, and both drew a quick breath, wondered why their pulse rate went up and why their cocks twitched a little.
Both men had a swimmer's build, about 5' 10" with a muscular chest. Both had flat abdomens. Their shoulders were broad, athletic, and had decent biceps and triceps muscle development, but neither had a competition build.
Other glances showed both had cocks of similar length, perhaps eight inches, mushroom tips, medium-thick girth. Both had full-sized testicles hanging low, swinging a little.
Eric's main attraction, Jack noticed, was a bubble ass that put Jack to work to avoid staring. Eric wasn't disappointed at Jack's build either, then wondered why his roommate's shape was any of his concern. Eric turned, and when Jack thought Eric wasn't looking, he swung his body from side to side, his cock swinging along. Eric caught the movement in his peripheral vision and said nothing.
Eric had not yet connected the name Darnell to the former President. Jack had already wondered if Eric's grandfather was the Darren who had administered the museum for years, living with Michael and Marcus as a throuple there. He thought that perhaps Eric's first name might have been Eric as some tribute to Eric Schuyler, the next beneficiary. Had Eric's parents named after his grandfather's lover's son?
The dining hall was ancient, old dark hardwood panels with wood wainscoting, a tan lofted ceiling with dark exposed arches supporting the roof. Waiters in formal attire filed quickly in and out of swinging, polished stainless-steel doors leading to the kitchens.
The male waiters served the students at wood tables in long rows, sitting at random on benches. The food was fabulous. The hot items were served hot and the cold things cold. The men sat together along with other first-years, the noise level just shy of raucous in the vast hall.
They surfed the internet and watched T.V. for a while. Eric yawned. "I'm going to bed. Enjoy your evening. It was nice to meet you, Jack." Two minutes later, Eric sat up abruptly. "Oh my God, you said your last name was Darnell, right?"
"Yes."
"Did you spend any time in the White House, by any chance?"
"Eight years."
"Oh fuck! I'm rooming with a First Son."
"No, officially, you aren't. I'm no longer that person, and my Secret Service security detail doesn't exist now. I'd appreciate privacy for my safety and yours."
"But you did live there with your mom! Oh crap. You're famous."
Eric finally got hold of his emotions and opened his eyes just enough to see Jack's naked body, especially Sweet Jack, for the second time that day. It was just a brief glimpse, but enough. Eric fell into a slightly restless, troubled sleep.
They had no shared class until one p.m. that day. Their seats were far apart in a giant indoor amphitheater for a symposium in the college history and tradition, a sanitized version of the rules, a book the wardens asked the students to read in the first week.
The students were required to quote from the short text as appropriate if confronted by a dean or dormitory assistant.
Jack didn't see Eric at dinner. He got back to the room at 6:30 p.m. and found Eric studying at his desk wearing a towel. His hair had washed, shampooed, but he had not combed his hair yet. The blonde hair had a slight curl and was just long enough to remind Jack of a California surfer stereotype.
"Hey."
Eric turned and lifted his eyebrows with a welcoming smile. "Hey yourself, stud." Horrified at the words out of his mouth, Eric tried to wipe the smile off his face, and he flushed. "Did you survive your day?"
"Sure," replied Jack. I was looking forward to a beer at the Nook just off the Yard. They have dynamite pizza, and I talked to somebody who said their wings are good."
"I have another hour to study."
"Hey, dinner took most of my appetite away anyway. Why don't I look through the rulebook? We could make a run to the Nook after we finish," Jack was determined to bend if Eric went with him. He thought his new roommate was a decent guy and a little hot. That was a new concept as it happened. He'd never felt that way about anyone before, never craved someone's company quite like this guy.
Jack was acquainted with Schuyler history when it came to guys loving guys. It was socially engrained, pure and simple. Not genetic, perhaps, but indeed a tradition and beyond accepted. Carol, the first beneficiary of the Schuyler Fortune, had married a judge who tried to steal the fortune Carol's dad had left her and the wealth she had amassed for herself. The judge's secretary had helped to thwart that raid. Carol was her longtime friend. Carol's dad had rescued her family from disaster when the secretary's alcoholic father threatened to ruin them. Carol's son, Michael Schuyler, had met Marcus at college in Iowa and forged a lifelong bond.
When Jack Jr.'s mom was elected, she was busy all the time. His dad had his friends, still, from Flourtown.
Jack was aware of the downright physical closeness between his dad and his two friends from high school. He'd had no idea that his mom had told his dad, not so long after they began to live together in New York, that he should go to them and comfort them as best as only his dad could.
During the last week in the White House, Jack Jr. had woken during the night and walked down the hall to where the First Gentleman slept to use the bathroom.
Jack Jr. stepped into the room, expecting to see his dad in the shower since the light was on and the water was running. What he saw transfixed him.
His dad's cock was stuck, or was poking in and out, of one of his dad's friends' butt; the other friend, kneeling, was licking or sucking the third friend's hole. That fantastic video played in his head sometimes. He never mentioned it to his dad.
He didn't think his dad had seen him and didn't feel like talking about it with his dad or mom. He had seen his mom and dad pretty frisky in the White House with hugs and mysterious 'conferences' that didn't involve him or his siblings before, but not like that. He knew that his mom and dad loved each other.
When Eric had finished, they put on jeans and t-shirts. The weather in Cambridge remained warm enough in early fall to dress down. They walked around the Quad, through the brick gates, and jaywalked to the Nook, where a busy waitstaff with a great smile and a bulge where it counted spoke, "What's your poison, guys?"
Jack's mind, in overdrive, nearly told his mouth to say that he'd have a slice of the waiter but caught himself in time. Eric grinned and said that if they were out of pizza, he'd have to sue.
"Should you have any dough left, however, large pie, extra cheese, onions, tomatoes, capers, and mushrooms should do it. No meat. And a Bud Light."
"Coming right up and you?" he said, turning to Jack.
"I gotta have a sweet drink. What do you have?"
"If you are in that mood, you should try the Nooky." It will put hair on your chest, or remove it if you already have some, and put you in the mood for 'loooooooove,'" The waitstaff drawled out the word with just a touch of camp, his eyes looking up and out in a slow arc, channeling Mae West ever so slightly.
,
Jack recognized a flirt, didn't know how to respond, but rallied. "Sure, I'll have a Nooky, I guess."
"Sweet choice for real men," said Tom, his name was emblazoned on his uniform. "Comes with Meyer lemon juice, passion fruit and guava nectars, a dash of grapefruit juice, a hint of strawberry juice, grenadine, and a shot of vodka to lower your inhibitions properly."
"OK, OK, now I'm sure I'll have one. Bring this guy one also, my treat?" Jack could afford anything he wanted and wasn't sure how much extra spending money Eric might have from his Trust fund to spend for extras. The back of his mind hinted to the front of his mind that getting him in the mood might do them both some good.
An hour later, the men entered their dorm room, locked it, and stood looking at each other. "That was fun," said Eric, "stimulating. I can't imagine we won't enjoy this year."
A half-second passed as conflicting emotions passed over Jack's face like a television show. "I, um, can't believe I'm saying this, and you may tell me to go to hell and move out, but I have to say this, er." Eric's fingertips gently touched his lips, blocking further speech.
"Don't say it, Jack. Just show me. You've got a cock. I've got a hole. A goes into B with lube in a condom if you want, but I'm a virgin, and so are you, so not using a jacket is OK with me."
Buttons went flying, shirts off, and their mouths came together. This kiss was both tender and fierce. Eric pushed his face into the hollow of Jack's neck and smelled bay rum. Eric figured that was a 'Jack' smell. Zippers came down rapidly. The men palmed the other, and the warmth felt good. Jack's hand came around Eric's sweet buns after he removed Eric's underwear and caressed them. He was startled to find a mix of firm muscle, a thin layer of fat, and silky-smooth skin over that. He had not thought his cock could get harder.
It did get harder and longer. The skin on his mushroom head engorged so it nearly split. The two men moved to Eric's bed. Jack gently pushed Eric back, sat him down, and reached behind Eric's head, bringing it down to Sweet Jack for some loving. Eric's tongue was a natural. It slid between his lip-covered teeth, under Jack's cock, licking the shaft. Jack's balls and taint got attention, then Eric resumed sucking Jack's cock, Eric's head energetically bobbing up and down. Jack's shaft wasn't short. It was thick and long and leaking pre-cum.
Jack, not ordinarily shy, let out a sound he'd never made before, which startled him. The sound was somewhere near a groan plus a moan, mixed in with a tiny bit of pain. He telegraphed his delight at the sensation to Eric, who stopped for a second. "You OK, Jack? Do you like this?"
"I thank you, 'Sweet Jack' thanks you, my brain and testicles thank you. Whatever you're doing is making me crazy, dude. Don't stop."
"Then I'll keep up the good work, Jack. We must do our duty for the museum and college, you know. One must keep up standards for Schuyler men and descendants at the Park and Quad." Jack's cock disappeared again, all of it, down Eric's throat. When Eric tapped his ass, Jack backed out, and his knees buckled.
"I don't want to come yet," Jack indicated, pulling away. "Lay down. Dunno what you and I are going to do, exactly, but I have an idea or two."
"Jack, just fuck my ass. I saw your cock in the shower waving around. I've never wanted a man before or even thought I might, but I want you. Bad. Good. Either way, take my ass and keep it. God, I never thought that would come out of my mouth. I'm not gay or bi, I've never . . ."
Then Jack's hand was across Eric's mouth, his middle finger deep in Eric's mouth for sucking, preventing more words. His hands moved around Eric's chest and head, his balls and cock, stroking his legs and butt, exploring, biting lightly. Jack felt he might know what his dad was up to with his friends and why.
"How do you want me, pal?" Jack had one goal but was predisposed to make Eric the happiest Eric could be getting what Jack had to give.
"I'll get on my hands and knees. Lube up and be easy and slow. It's my first time," said Eric.
"So, you're a virgin man-slut then?" Jack asked.
"For you I am, I guess."
"I can work with that." Jack's cock got harder.
"I just want you to own me, man. Own my hole."
The next words out of Jack's mouth surprised him again. "Honey, you don't have a hole. After my cock plays there, it's mine, and it stays mine. I won't do a hook-up. We're on for good if you agree. I plan to use it tonight, right here in this bed right now; I own it for always—unless you snore or don't brush your teeth at night or talk back much. If we both agree, sometime in the future, some other guy can put his cock into that gorgeous ass, but I will never agree to this ass being taken without me present."
"If we fall for each other and want to live with each other, one of us, probably me, will propose, and we'll grow old together, solving world peace along the way."
"Jack, can we talk about it later? I'm pretty sure your cock will explode or something if you don't massage it inside my hungry hole."
One of Jack's best memories, made in the next few minutes, stuck with him for many years.
Eric applied slippery lube to Jack's cock, then some to his entrance. Jack knelt on the bed close to Eric between his thighs and put a small pillow under Eric's butt then began to play with Eric's hole, stretching it, working it. When his cock's head touched Eric's entrance, the round sphincter muscle just under Eric's skin jumped a little. Jack placed his tip to Eric there and only applied a tiny amount of steady pressure.
Soon, Eric relaxed enough to let Jack's mushroom-shaped head begin to open up the sphincter muscle, stretching it just to the maximum diameter of Jack's tip. Eric's muscle spasmed a bit more but kept relaxing in waves, and Jack's cock sank deeper. When the shaft of Jack's cock entered Eric, the pressure decreased a bit and Jack, watching Eric's face always for signs of pain, introduced Sweet Jack into the warm, wet tunnel to depth, his balls touching Eric's butt. His pubic hair tickled against Eric's bush.
Jack heard a long, contented sign from Eric and suddenly, instinctively, knew it was time to continue. Eric sat up and hugged Jack's neck, holding it as if he might keep it. They kissed, tongues exploring their lips and mouth.
The hard-charging in and out, the taking of Eric's ass thrilled them both. Sweet Jack loved the friction, the warmth; Eric thought that being filled up and stretched nearly to the breaking point by his man beat every jack off session he'd ever had all combined.
Eric laughed softly, "Guess I'll never be bringing biological kids home to mom, just a hunky boyfriend."
Eric came before Jack did, perhaps five seconds sooner. The resulting muscle tightening of his ass triggered Jack's massive orgasm inside of him. Eric felt the warmth and felt that Jack was a part of him now, that he had just taken some kind of irrevocable step to join this Schuyler kid.
Neither man knew the details about Darren and Michael and Marcus, beneficiaries of massive wealth two generations ago, who had played first as a group in the pool in Phoenix.
Darren's bedroom in Phoenix hosted their follow-up lovemaking. The trio continued afterward at the museum for years; Eric's grandfather, a world-class active bottom, had thrilled Michael and Marcus, enthusiastic tops. Finally, Michael and Darren maintained a relationship after Marcus died in an auto accident in Manhattan.
Eric would have been overwhelmed at the events that rejoined the two families. Who knew, and what were the chances?
They showered together briefly, skin to skin, fucking for a minute to be close again. Jack still had the vision of his dad in the shower and recreated it for a few minutes; Eric, willing, brave, sore, grateful all at once, got stuffed and stretched to the max.
Eric's situational conception blossomed, feeling his lover taking what now belonged to Jack with effortless grace, feeling their connection again.
The men walked over to the gym in shorts, topless on the day, Eric smooth as a baby's bottom; Jack sporting a light patch of curly, soft brown chest hair. A lot of heads turned, watching them. Both genders appreciated beauty when they saw it.
The Schuyler Trust security staff trying to blend in might have had an eye for beauty but no time, as they were scanning for danger from any corner and assessing for threats in every building. Had a threat come, they were ready.
Except from within.