REJOINING SCHUYLER - Chapter 5
Jack Jr., Joe, Ben, and Eric
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. All Rights Reserved. Please donate to the Nifty Archive using the donor information on this site.
Suddenly Jack felt dizzy. It wasn't as if the room is spinning around me (even though I know it isn't), dizzy. It was the 'I think I'm going to black out' kind. Joe sprang to Jack's side and steadied him.
"I think it's just been too much for one day and . . ." Then Jack passed out gracefully, eased to the grass near the entrance to the park, ten people jumping over to help. Rafael had begun required civil emergency medical training in Cuba at age sixteen. He took Jack's pulse rate after throwing off his Mouse costume on the spot. Joe took another quick look at Rafael, their eyes met, and a volume of information passed between them silently.
After that second or two, Rafael clearly understood that Joe was asking him to be a friend, to help Joe take care of Joe's lover, to stay by if he would. Neither said a word; it seemed to be understood clearly in some other- 'worldly' way.
On waking there on the warm grass, Jack knew his mind was foggy. Jack noted the smell of freshly cut grass first, then the noise around him, and finally, cautiously, he squinted against the bright sun through nearly closed eyelids to see Joe above him looking at Rafael.
Rafael's beautiful, deep rich voice, his young age, perhaps twenty years old, tall, dark hair, medium length, fatal brown eyes, lush lips, flawless facial skin, and even a chin dimple, size small, caught Jack's attention.
Jack didn't think Rafael's package was anywhere near small, however. That was a bulge the size of Cuba, nearly the same shape anyway, but oriented vertically. He giggled silently. The sight of Joe exceptionally stimulated Rafael's libido. This mouse sported the evidence. Jack looked back at Joe's face, and he recognized Joe seemed to be in heat.
"Let's load this man into the limousine. He needs to be in bed and gradually cooled. His pulse is normal, and now he is perfusing properly," Rafael took charge. "He is coming around from syncope, a faint."
A medical team had arrived by then, examined Jack, and were on the verge of telling the ambulance to leave with Jack, to haul him back to the hospital.
"What do you mean 'to bed'? Are you a doctor? This man fainted; can't you see that? How do you know he's perfusing OK? That will take extensive testing in the hospital to decide." The doctors were in full-on 'doctor' mode now.
Rafael smiled. "He's perfusing, gentlemen. Look at his groin. He is flat on his back, and his erection is impressive. That is the first and best sign of adequate perfusion. The rule is: 'no perfusion=no prone erection.' If he awakens and sounds normal in the next few minutes, we will know his brain is perfusing properly. His peripheral pulses are full, regular, and easy to palpate. He is warm and not pale."
"If he pees in the next four hours, we will know about the third-best perfusion sign: 'happy' kidneys. What else did they not teach you in medical school about the simple checks for organs that are properly functioning because of adequate blood flow?"
"This man did not lose massive amounts of blood recently and hasn't been shot or knifed. He has not suffered the loss of a limb. He doesn't have toxic shock syndrome or sepsis. Relax, docs!"
The medical people, egos punctured, disappeared into the whispering crowd about that time. The ambulance crew got ready to leave on another call.
Rafael pushed a button on his wrist. "I'm taking the rest of the day off. Mouse #twelve taking the rest of his sick time beginning now and serving notice of intent to resign."
The dispatcher who took the code heard similar employment-related messages from time to time and began the process for de-Mousing.
Rafael, Joe, and Jack rode in silence to the Grand Hotel in Orlando, where the friends transferred Jack to a wheelchair. After entering the suite, Rafael took charge. "What is this man's name, and when did he last eat? Where does he live? Has he had any medications today?" Joe filled him in.
"Jack needs a warm shower, not hot, but closer to lukewarm. You and I -- Joe, is it? -- we will assist him. First, let's order a light lunch from room service for all of us."
For a second, Joe felt a twinge of irritation at the command. Who did this guy whom he had just met think he was talking to, giving commands?
Joe told himself to chill.
The two naked men assisted Jack into the shower and made sure he didn't fall again. They lathered him up from scalp to toe, both enjoying Jack's reactions. "Perhaps Jack would enjoy some comfort here in a safe place after the events of the day. A shower is a safe place."
As the warm water cascaded down Jack's body and the soap ran down, Joe gently inserted his hard cock into Jack from behind as Rafael knelt. After taking Joe's cock in his mouth for a minute, he turned to support Jack in front, offering his wet, muscular shoulder for Jack to brace. Rafael took Jack's balls in his mouth and massaged them with his tongue. Rafael moved up Jack's cock then and took it in down to the root, swallowing around the shaft. Jack saw stars, and that White House memory of his father and friends flashed into his mind.
Rinsed, fucked, and empty, Jack dried off fifteen minutes later. Exhausted, he fell asleep naked into bed with Joe and Raf assisting and sandwiching him, waking only to sit on the side of the bed for lunch. Jack slept for the next six hours, then got up to pee, assisted again by Joe and Raf.
His friends sat unclothed on adjacent towels on the lovely sofas in the suite while they watched over Jack; Rafael's cock stayed hard, and finally, Joe asked him if it would be OK to sit on that fine instrument.
Rafael responded by spreading his legs, throwing out his arms with a smile. Joe sank on the bulky bat facing outward, his back to Rafael, wondered if it would go in, willed it to happen, and accommodated to Rafael's size with an initial whimper. As a detective, Joe analyzed everything, but it wasn't his analytic skills that helped him figure out that a) Rafael loved to fuck, b) Rafael was good at it, and c) Rafael possessed the right tool, the cock, for the task.
Joe could tell Rafael was different than Jack in a good way, but Joe's bond with Jack was also different, in an exciting way.
Gulfstream, the Trust, the local police, and the FAA cleared Apricot to fly the next day. Eric and Ben headed for Apricot's bed. Jack and Joe invited Raf, who had stayed the night and eaten with them, to come to Cancun.
"Guys, I'd love to, but my passport is in Miami."
Jack thought for a minute. "We can fix that. Call your folks or someone in the house or a neighbor or someone to get the passport. I'll have a Schuyler Bank-Miami bank employee pick it up and either drive it up here to the hotel or have it taken by plane up here and meet us at the FBO Orlando. or we can pick it up in Miami."
Rafael, as Jack could tell now, wasn't a drama queen. He was masculine in appearance, and his upbringing in Cuba gave him a hint of a macho attitude. Jack wasn't surprised to hear him reply, "Sure thing, Jack." He didn't say, "Oh, I couldn't possibly take charity from you," nor did he say, "Oh, you're just too good to me." Jack began to fall in love with Rafael about then.
In the end, though, after Jack decided to have Apricot stop in Miami (faster) and get the passport there, after Joe had told Jack that he'd 'rewarded' Raf with a fuck while Jack was recovering, and after Raf stripped in the back of Apricot, and fucked Jack up, down, and sideways, Jack did fall in love with him.
As the jet flew south, Rafael's light brown body, gleaming, sweaty, shone in the sun coming into the aircraft.
Rafael Leon-Ordonez didn't play daddy, didn't do whips and chains, nor did he hurt his partners. He expressed his infinitely tender love by talking to Jack, whispering in his ear, questioning, promising earthy, forbidden love acts, and gently coupled with Jack, his taut, warm skin pressed on Jack's prone back and ass.
Raf was gentle and as good at fucking as Joe was with his chosen profession, detecting. Jack reflected on his two partners. He needed both of them.
"Hey Jack, all of my cock is inside your warm slippery tunnel. Does it feel good? Do you feel stretched and full? How about here? That's my excited fuck stick. It got hard and swollen when I saw and licked your hole. Do you want my hot jizz in your butt? When I come inside of you, when I warm your hole even more with friction, and after you come too, I will be sucking my jizz back out of your ass where I put it. I want to taste your juices and mine mixed. When I do, I will kiss you and put some in your mouth to share a taste with you. I want to taste your life. You want to taste mine. Together we will inhale the aroma of your musk and mine, your cum, mine, all four mixed. Nectar, man. Our fuckjuice. Shall I come in your mouth a little too? Will you drink and swallow my seeds?" Raf was on a roll.
"When we fuck you are mine to do what I need and want to do. Afterward, I will lick your cum off your body and massage it into your hot chest." Jack knew that Raf's voice alone would bring Jack home.
By that time, Jack trembled with lust near the edge; Raf's voice and cock did bring him over that edge, Jack falling hard over the cliff, his explosive orgasm in full blast.
Raf wasn't Joe, Jack decided, but nobody was perfect. Jack was always a top when he made love to Joe, a perfect situation up to now. The new sensations of submitting, being taken, and being filled, added rich pleasure to his already full life to that point.
Raf's dominance, his earthy and vocal love whispered in Raf's signature dark and rich bass, however, made Jack feel wanted and loved in a different way. Raf's cock brought Jack's ass and his brain a present: a series of electric thrills inside when Raf's cock brushed Jack's prostate gland. Every time that happened, an incredible sensation shot up Jack's spine, a lightning bolt of pleasure to his brain.
Once in a blue moon, and now more often, he had an itch in his butt that needed scratching. Raphael was a top-notch scratcher. Damn good kisser, too. And kind. There was that.
The men landed in Cancun to bright sunshine and steady dry heat. After Customs, the men braced for the onslaught. After clearing customs, most commercial jet passengers had to walk with their security through a gauntlet of entrepreneurs who offered taxi services, auto rentals, tours, hotels, (their 'sisters', in a few cases), bar services, and brochures among others. Many tried to grab luggage to 'carry,' the latter maneuver nowhere near successful as security pushed the luggage carts. Jack and company found no such gauntlet at the Customs section of the FBO for private air traffic.
The rented limousine and SUVs for security drove away from the airport and headed south toward Playa del Carmen on the Cancun-Tulum highway. All of a sudden, the little caravan slowed abruptly, passed over a speed bump the size of cold Texas, and sped back up, being careful not to exceed the speed limit and not tailing any other cars.
This slow pace equaled defensive driving. It did not pay to be in an accident in the Yucatan, mostly if either driver was well off, even worse if either driver was poor. Drivers of either economic status paid outrageously to gain their freedom, the rich proportionately more in some cases. However, the wealthy tended to get out of jail faster for some reason.
The speed bumps, called 'topes'(toe-pays), were half-moon shaped, firmly attached to the pavement across traffic, perhaps 6-7 inches high. If a vehicle hit a tope at speed, something would give, and it wouldn't be the tope. More undercarriage damage at a high rate of speed was the goal.
It only took crashing into one of those to learn the lesson of keeping speed well within the limit on the highway. To avoid wrecking, the need to avoid speeding over the topes occupied much of the driver and navigator's attention, scanning the roadway ahead, slowing down, crossing them at slow speed, then returning to a higher rate of speed.
Every few dozen miles, traffic slowed down or stopped for groups of soldiers, some carrying automatic weapons, determined to keep the peace for tourists and locals. Most cars would slow, and a soldier would peer in and wave them on. Few were questioned or detained unless the soldiers suspected criminals or terrorists might be in the vehicle.
The soldiers waved Jack's caravan away after the limousine driver explained that the SUVs were security agents for Jack Schuyler and his group. Whether the exchange of a one-hundred-dollar bill for a wave and a smile helped or not, no one in the caravan knew for sure.
More than fifty miles south of Playa del Carmen were roadside vendors, usually just after a tope, women and children selling containers of fresh chunks of pineapple in a plastic bag or whole pineapples.
That first night in Playa del Carmen was a revelation.
The trio found dense low concrete housing, ornate iron grillwork incorporated into fencing out front, no skyscrapers, crowded toward the center of town, frequent buses from the downtown terminal, a relaxed atmosphere, and open meat grilling for sale.
They saw a Walmart in town on a city block, parking lot underneath, and the store on the upper two or three levels, multiple small pharmacies on every other street almost, where legal medications could be purchased without prescriptions, and frequent cafes.
Best of all, the main shopping street, parallel to the ocean, was dotted with luxury hotels, fine restaurants, banks, money exchange shops, jewelers, large tourist souvenir stores, a mall of sorts on more than one level, and beer joints on the beach. At night, toy vendors shot colored toys into the air for sale.
Strolling that street at night was safe and fabulous.
Checking into the boutique luxury hotel off the central street downtown might have been noisy, except guests entered off the street through a long, open set of wide tiled stairs going upward, a space surrounded with excellent colored tiles.
Finally, a vast lobby, plush, plenty of bell staff, quiet, friendly bilingual counter staff, correct in appearance and speech, efficient, welcomed them for the night.
The hotel was expecting the entire party and escorted them upstairs to an ultra-quiet floor, thick carpets, thick Mayan-themed tapestries on the light pumpkin-orange painted stucco walls and with sound-proof doors leading to multi-room suites with large balcony spaces. The primary suite had two beds with California King-size mattresses.
Jack, Joe, and Rafael stripped and piled into one bed. They warmed rather quickly on the firm pillow-topped mattresses. They were soon asleep. Security staff stayed up just long enough to establish perimeters, assess hot spots (none found) and assign shifts for the night guards before the 'sleep' shift retired to their suite.
Breakfast, brought to the suites the next morning, might have been predicted, but it was still fantastic. Sliced tropical fruits like mango, papaya, pineapple, bananas, and passionfruit decorated the platters on the table set up by the waitstaff with fine Turkish linen, an English sterling set, German Rosenthal china service, and an Irish crystal set.
Tortillas with eggs and potatoes, crisp bacon, fresh-squeezed juice mixtures, cereal and cream, honey, a hash of skirt steak squares and potatoes, a choice of steak or chicken (Pollo)----the list went on and on.
After breakfast, the three men jumped in the vast, tiled shower, toweled dry, and spent an hour in the sun on the balcony after rubbing sunscreen onto each other's nude bodies. Rafael went inside as two pairs of eyes glued themselves to his world-class butt.
Jack and Joe spoke briefly. "I'm not looking for a new partner," said Jack. "If I was, I'd look seriously at Rafael."
"Yeah," replied Joe. "Raf is like a piece of candy. You can't eat just one, but I want to tell you he's a champion almost as good as you in that department."
"Should I be worried?" Jack had to say it.
"You and I have a history that Raf doesn't have with us. I could learn to love him, though, if you did too. I don't know him that well yet, Jack."
"Could he be our friend 'with benefits?"
"Sure." Joe's balls almost twisted at the thought. Had he brought a chisel, an ax, into their relationship?
"I told you he fucked me while you were recovering after your faint that day. Raf had already showered with us, and we both appreciated him there. I took the chance that you would approve him and me doing our thing while you slept."
"Joe, I love you, and that means I trust you and something more than that. I was hoping you could get all the pleasure you can get. Whatever makes you happy, after all, makes me happy. I think we are the primary couple, but the Schuyler tradition is gay and male, with throuples a common occurrence."
Jack went on. "I'm interested in learning to know Raf a lot better. He might be the only top I ever let do me, and that opened my eyes. During that session, he hit something inside me that I hadn't felt before, a supercharged event that I wouldn't mind exploring again. Who knows? I might end up being a good little bottom for you someday, Joe. Do you think you'd ever like to share that part of me with Raf?"
Joe was spared having to answer that when Rafael came back out with the world's smallest transparent speedo and Raf might have been a little self-conscious with the same two pairs of eyes now fixed on his bulge. Joe groaned. "You're killing me, Raf."
"Death by sweet fucking inch." Jack chimed in. Raf grinned. He had seen himself in mirrors before and liked what he saw.
"Raf," Jack motioned him over, "Sit here beside me. Joe and I talked about you and how much we appreciate you, both who you are and how you carry your hot body. Joe and I want to get to know you better. Is it safe to assume that you prefer sex with men to that with women?"
"But of course." Raf was sure about that.
"When you took my ass, Raf, you made me feel like you decided that it was OK to take it and make it yours. The confident domination of my ass as you took it thrilled me. One day I hope to fully explain to you why I found that so exciting, so full of pleasure."
"Joe and I would like to be friends with you. Neither of us wants to purchase sex. We do want you to live with us and share what we share as a family. I can tell you more about what that means later, but we are excited to find out if you might share yourself with us until you find other partners or decide to leave us."
"We both feel that love can bloom in our group of three after we get to know each other better."
Raf didn't cry, whimper, or emote. "I'd like that. Thank you. I'll live with both of you anywhere. One caveat only. I'm a top when we play as long as I still want to top. If I want to bottom, I'll let you know. Before we continue, though, I must ask whether any of your wealth is related to drug traffic. I promised myself at age ten that I would not associate with anyone who did drugs or profited from the sale of illegal drugs. My mother made me promise her that."
Jack realized that now was the time and place to fill Raf in about the Schuyler fortune. "First of all, we don't traffic in drugs, never have, never will. Our family fortune is the world's largest. It began by shrewd investing in arts and gems and property by my great-grandfather in Pennsylvania My grandmother Carol Schuyler collected more art and gems and began to buy even more for museums that knew of upcoming sales but didn't have the funds on hand to purchase the objects they wanted for their collections. She would then hold the items and sell them for the original price back to the museums when they could afford them. After a specified period of time, that right of first refusal expired and the fabulous objects remained in the Schuyler collection, most never sold. The value of our collection is in the high billions or low trillions by now."
"No one knows since many pieces are priceless with no recent sale in decades or centuries to establish their value in any currency. Jack laughed. The downside of that is that an object of any kind is only worth what someone else will pay for it and that uncertainty means that anything we can do to increase demand and limit supply can increase 'value.' We are to art as DeBeers is to diamonds, in some ways. Those family members who have access to Trust assets could spend as much as they liked every day for ordinary things and never put a dent in the interest that the fortune accumulates every day. Apricot cost way less than one tenth of one percent of the fortune. Way less. Apricot cost .004 per cent of 2 trillion dollars."
Raf stared, trying to comprehend the math, one of his better subjects in school.
"Family is defined differently by different beneficiaries. If I say so, family can include blood relatives of Carol Schuyler and their partners, married or otherwise, adopted children, grandchildren. Trust laws in Pennsylvania where the Trust law for our Trust is governed prohibits me from including employees, contracted or not, as 'family.' In addition, members of the public cannot be family, including anyone working in the service industries that support the Trust such as Trading, Banking, Security, and the jet fleet employees including fueling services, pilots, flight stewards, catering services, etc. If an employee becomes a partner, the beneficiary may, at his or her discretion, include that person as family as long as the partnership continues."
"Both Joe and I would be honored to call you family as our love partner. It is not employment, but it is a symbol to all that we value you so much that we are willing to share our fortune with you, the jet fleet, the funds, our home, our lives, our decision making, and our bodies."
Joe and Jack stood up and took Raf into their arms. Joe dropped to his hands and knees on the thick rug on the balcony. Jack quickly understood and knelt between Joe's legs while Raf brought up the rear.
In the middle of the chain, Jack plunged into Joe and felt Raf's monster knocking again at his entrance. Cries of satisfaction bounced off the balcony walls, wondrously private, surrounded by waterfalls and lush vegetation. All three came copiously; then, steps lead down to a private pool, their next destination, where the three men brought their bodies together in the warm pool and kissed. Joe risked his forefinger, inserting it into Raf's mouth for Raf to suck. Raf seemed not only willing but eager for that. Jack came up behind Joe, rubbed his cock between Joe's cheeks, and drove his rigid member into his lover's ass with one big push.
Raf watched with a huge grin on his face. "Dios Mio. Estedes son tan calientes." (My God, you guys are hot.)
Rafael calculated that the distance from Cancun to Tulum was eighty-one miles. He also knew that from Cancun, in another direction, east and a little north, lay the beaches of Cuba, his homeland, about 113 miles over saltwater.
Raf had friends and family in Cuba, including the first friend he had ever fucked, Ramon, and the twins Raul and Julio. He didn't actively miss them but wanted to keep in touch. All three were jobless, and Ramon was homeless. The Cuban government took little pity on 'los hombres homosexuales,' placing some along with their families on a 'no-hire list' along with some government contract-payment retaliation for employers who ignored the list.
The teens, school friends, had no interest in talking about girls or their exploits with women. All three of them, happy teens of age sixteen, had camped out on the beach together since they were fourteen, experimenting as teens will. At the Cuban age of consent, sixteen, one beach night turned to physical passion. Raf had ended up fucking Ramon and Julio to their nervous but evident delight. Raul had attempted to enter Rafael but couldn't without intense entry pain for Raf, which aborted the effort.
Raf thought that topping was the most fun thing he'd ever tried, and if there had been a hell, being a bottom would be it.
He hadn't changed his mind, not yet.
The men toured the peninsula, moving south to Tulum, walking the gravel paths between the Mayan ruins, looking out over the sea, possibly the last look at the ocean before sacrifice for some in the distant past.
After that, they drove south to Chetumal, then back west to the sugar cane fields, watching the muscular, good-looking Guatemalan immigrant workers. The latter used their machetes to harvest the sugar canes manually. Their chests and arm muscles were muscled and firm, easy to look at.
The caravan followed the massively overloaded sugar cane trucks at a respectful distance and touring the sugar factory at the massively small town of Javier Rojo Gomez, where Ben cut himself trying to wield one of the machetes, deceptively sharp and heavy. The paramedics, familiar with those injuries, took competent care of Ben without charge. Comparing his resources with the obvious clinic needs, Jack picked up his satellite phone since there was no cell service in Javier then, spoke to the Trust Offices in Pennsylvania, and asked Raf to translate.
"I cannot repay you for your competent services provided at no cost to my friend. I accept your gift of care and wonder if you would be so kind as to also accept a gift in appreciation of yours to help fund more services for your town through clinic renovation, salaries, equipment, and supplies?"
Jack continued, "I asked an organization to set up a trust for the Cruz Roja here (the Mexican Red Cross) with a local board of members here in Javier Rojo Gomez, to guide this local project: yourself, your spouse, the town priest and mayor, and the Naval officer whose parents live by the old motel, the motorcycle enthusiast."
"These people will run the Trust under Cruz Roja guidelines. I am funding that trust with money that need not be returned but spent over the next five years, a total of $1 million US. If you believe things are going well, this trust will renew every five years."
"The only condition is that the clinic maintains current service levels or higher and the children at the house of the one-armed monkey be educated through college here in Mexico. In addition, that money must support a permanent caretaker for the man who was paralyzed from his motorcycle accident and his medical care with trips to Cancun."
"None of this money is to fund the local government clinic that only serves the government insured and the senior citizens who already get nearly free care. The purpose of this gift is to help the poor only."
Raf, staggered at the clinic gift and the amount, said nothing more as he translated and watched the paramedic for his reaction. Tears of joy entered both their eyes for a moment. He began to wonder once again just how much this family must have to afford a jet, luxury hotels, and this kind of money for a charity clinic with paramedics.
He contrasted that with Ramon, Raul, and Julio's abject poverty and couldn't bring himself to resolution.
He hadn't thought of himself as a revolutionary like the dreaded Castro family whose idea of justice was to steal from one to give to all across the board, removing all incentive to work hard other than brute force and prison.
He decided to speak with Jack and Joe when they got back to New York.
All too soon, the vacation ended. The men flew on Apricot from Cancun direct to Teterboro, completing a vacation loop for Jack, Joe, Eric, and Ben, and beginning a journey for Rafael. The VTOL drone took them to the museum, Rafael's face pressed to the window for the entire flight.
On the way home, Jack and Joe filled Rafael in on the details of his access to the jets and the fortune. "If you wish to give money to your family and friends in Cuba, talk to me first," said Jack. "I then will arrange the details through my secretary. I need to keep track of the fortune, and I am likely to say yes to most proposals. Since I am the owner, however, all of the decisions are mine to approve and arrange; no other person has that responsibility. That said, my primary role is to help improve your access to the fortune, not obstruct it."
Jack and Joe had explained museum 'operations' to Rafael.
Rafael understood by now that he had access to a suite of his choice, free access to the Schuyler fortune, and his choice of one footman.
Jack explained the rules at the museum, the amenities, and all of the information Rafael needed to feel welcomed and comfortable with his new life.
Raf sensed this wasn't the time to talk about Cuba or his friends there, but many possibilities reverberated in his head.
Crossing the Hudson toward Central Park and the Museum, Raf realized that he loved these two men. They were good-looking (muy guapo), great sex partners, generous, kind, thoughtful men who in turn loved him and wanted him, though he wasn't exactly sure why yet.
Most of the Museum employees met the trio on the roof, it seemed. The security team stayed at their posts, and the chefs stayed busy in the kitchen, preparing the welcome lunch. Some of the footmen helped to prepare Salon A for that meal. Raf's smile was beginning to seem frozen in place after shaking dozens of hands, but he wasn't unhappy. "Stunned' was a better word for how he felt.
Had he ascended to the status of a prince, he would still have more money to spend than any other prince on the planet. He knew this and was surprised that he had no urger to go shopping for anything.
His position met his needs entirely, which removed the impetus to hoard, stockpile, or amass anything. Jack and the housekeeper showed him a few suites on the top floor, and Raf chose one just down the hall from Jack and Joe's primary suite.
Jack and Joe needed a footman since Ben had found Eric. The senior footman and the youngest footman were entitled to apply by tradition. Any other footman could apply if Jack approved.
Also, Raf needed a footman. Jack, Joe, and Raf interviewed the senior footman and the youngest one the next morning. The consensus was that the oldest was on the verge of retirement, and the youngest had barely begun his service with so-so reports.
Raf's fertile mind went back to Cuba for a second. An idea was forming, and he tossed it by Joe and Jack.
"I know two men from Cuba who might be willing if we could extract them and provide the proper work cards and residence permits."
Jack laughed. "With the money at hand, we could hire the submarine to meet them off the beach, the air cover to protect the extraction, and our Senators are still eager for campaign funds. The State Department budget falls under one of our New York Senator's purviews. He can arrange the documents."
"The question is would they make good footmen, and do they want to leave Cuba."
The trio made arrangements to find out the current status of Raul and Julio. Within a day, security found that the two men were still without work, living with their parents in poverty. Indications from their parents were cautions, as Cuba's government was not partial to citizens who wanted to leave.
Still, they managed to get the word out their sons would welcome 'legal opportunity to travel for work.' A taxi from Penn Sation dropped off two average-looking Cuban young men within a week at the Schuyler museum's front door on a Thursday afternoon. A footman ushered them up to Raf's suite, where the three men reunited, a party for the ages which involved booze, sex, singing and dancing. Jack, Joe, Ben, and Eric all dropped by and enlivened the festivities.
Jack, Joe, and Raf formally interviewed them the next day after lunch. One might have thought the interview would come to an obvious conclusion. A comprehensive review of the men's strong and weak points occurred, however, and Raul and Julio presented well, eager to do their best. Both Jack and Joe knew that Raf had experimented with both.
When the discussion turned to footman behavior, rules, and traditions, Jack was eager that Raul and Julio knew their employment and advancement was not related to previous or current sexual activities in or out of the museum. Jack told Raul and Julio that their private behavior was their choice, that some footmen sometimes played with their principals at the museum, others did not.
As it turned out, Raul and Julio were dying to repeat their beach and museum hookups with Rafael, but circumstances intervened. Raf, Jack, and Joe spent the next Saturday morning in the primary suite, doing what they loved to do. None had calendar events for the day.
At one point, Raf was inside Jack, and Raf's deep bass voice had again brought Jack to the brink of explosion when they heard a knock on their door.
On the other side stood Ben and Eric, both partially dressed in what appeared to be UnderGents Men's Inspirato Boxer Shorts; both displayed their erect inspirations inside those Boxers.
Jack, also noting and admiring their bare chests, decorated with a small amount of soft, short curly hairs, grabbed them by their waistbands and tugged them inside the suite. "What brings you studs here on this dreary Saturday morning?"
"Oh, just sex, specifically, or the prospect of some," replied Eric. "I may be wearing Ben out. He's losing weight working and being my partner too."
"I told you to get a footman," said Jack.
"Yeah, Eric." groaned Ben. "That's what I've been telling you."
"OK, OK, I lose. We'll interview."
"Before you do, please consider interviewing the Cuban twins. Raul and Julio arrived two days ago and are available to work. Both are family. You can ask Raf here for 'recommendations.'"
Jack reached for Eric and Ben and removed their boxers. Raf began to finish their fuck while Joe fingered Raf's bottom. Another knock at the door and Julio and Raul entered, their eyes glazed over at what they saw. Raul reached for Joe, and Raf began to bring Julio and Eric to him.
Raf fucked Julio while Julio made Eric's cock happy, and a general 'fruit-basket upset' began among the seven men, none of whom were upset. Eric and his brother purposely avoided sex together. They both figured, 'been there, done that.'
Eric, Ben, and Julio hit it off. Eric asked Julio if he was available to be their footman after confirming with Ben. Ben told Eric that he would happily mentor Julio.
Raf, Joe, and Jack had a chance to talk the next day and called Raul to ask the same question. Raul understood that footman to the beneficiary and his partners was the ultimate position with the best status, salary, and benefits. Given that and Raf's offer to mentor Raul's sexual talents in case they became needed, Jack sealed the deal.