THE GENTLEMEN'S CLUB Enrique
By Lady Poetess. Copyright c 1999.
Feel free to reproduce and distribute as long as you leave the credits and the author's note below intact. If you somehow make money out of this, well, good for you but please send some to me at egiggles@moose-mail.com!
Author's note:
This is actually a part of an ongoing fantasy fan-fiction about a fictional group of friends in New York whose weekly poker games form the basis of their story of finding love and laughter. These friends are - under inexplicable circumstances! - dead ringers from some music and movie celebrities, obscure or well- known, that I find worth a write or two. The men and their lives depicted here have nothing in common with the real people they are based on apart from their appearances and names. I am not speculating on their sexual orientation or personal past. Again, everything is strictly fictional, apart from the character's good looks. Suing me is a waste of time, as frankly, to be blunt, I'm penniless.
ONE
He really couldn't believe he was doing this. Thomas Gibson looked around him in bewilderment. Legend had it that the refugees of the Golden Circus Era of the early 1900's had banded together and started a settlement in Achelon, but Thomas finally believed that story. Everyone around him was dramatically circus-freakish, for the want of a kinder word.
"Here we are, in an alternate universe," his colleague and best friend Tobias Stephens said, his thick English accent a cool contrast to the gibberish chatter around them both. "I've never seen so many circus people in one place. Is that really a woman with three eyes?"
"Nah, that's just a henna-painted tattoo." Thomas loosened his tie, suddenly feeling very stupid in his shirt and suit. "Where's the man sent to welcome us?"
At that moment, there was a sudden puff of smoke and a loud thunderclap. Thomas dropped his briefcase onto his toes and Tobias gave a startled cry. When the smoke cleared to some stray whistle and applause from the people around them, Thomas saw a medium-height, somewhat brown-skinned man in simple T-shirt and jeans smiling at them. "Gentlemen, welcome to Achelon," the man said, bowing theatrically.
Thomas recognized the thick accent as the voice he had spoken over the phone three days before. "Mr. Iglesias," he said stiffly. "You're twenty minutes and," he glanced at his watch, "fifteen seconds late."
Enrique Iglesias really shouldn't be here. He should be in Vegas, entertaining an adoring audience who lined his pockets with cash to see him escape from a giant aquarium filled with acid. Aunt Zelda, bless her gypsy heart, however, had insisted that her nephew come over and (to quote her) save the good name of Achelon. It seemed skeptics and scientific upstarts were coming to Achelon to demystify the myth of the circus, and Enrique's mother's family refused to allow that to happen.
"Achelon needs the tourists," Aunt Zelda had rattled in Spanish. "If these two silly gringos come over and write in their books that we are all ragtag phonies and tell everyone that we shit and piss like everyone else, no one would come."
"Aunt Zel, but it is you who invited them to come expose you!" Enrique had protested. He wasn't in a good mood, especially when the phone call came when he was about to finally get into Richie Louie's pants. Damn, he so wanted to discover for himself Richie's legendary skills in fellatio.
"It's publicity, silly boy. Achelon's 150 years old this month and we want the scientists to write that they are in awe of us. That will be great, ya?"
"Let me guess. The town council never think further than that point."
"Well, I did tell them my nephew is a great magician. We all decide that if anyone can distract these two and make them write nice things about us, it's you. So be a good boy and come on down. I'll make you your favorite corn custard cakes."
Corn custard cakes. Yummy. Enrique was definitely tempted, for no one made home- cooked food like Aunt Zelda and it had been years since Enrique enjoyed home-cooked meals. "But Aunt Zel, I'm in Vegas! I have shows to perform."
"I'm sure a smart boy like you can get out of it."
He could. It took six hours of hard, sweaty sex to convince Barney to give him an impromptu vacation. Degrading really. He had washed his dick probably a thousand times and still couldn't quite shake off the feeling of being used. Perhaps it was time to sack Barney and get a lesbian manager. The last heterosexual female manager didn't quite work out either.
Now, he fought the urge to yawn as he opened the door to the room prepared for the man named Thomas Gibson. "This was actually my room when I visited Aunt Zelda when I was a boy," he told Thomas. "Well, I'll leave you to get unpacked. Dinner's at six. You'll hear the dinner bell."
"Thanks."
Enrique looked at the man's smooth, unruffled face and wondered if anything could disturb that cool arrogance. He hadn't felt this feeling of being looked down upon since his days in boarding school. Yet there was a hint of dimples and those high cheekbones gave the man's otherwise ordinarily handsome face some character. "So, you're one of those people who wastes the taxpayers' money by investigating paranormal things?"
"No," Thomas said, pulling the curtains apart. "I'm just a physicist. I'm not the one you should distract. Toby's the one who wants to dissect your family and friends. That is, I trust your plan is to distract us, right? Lead us astray, blind us to the truth, that sort of thing?"
"I'm afraid you caught me red-handed there. You're ten steps ahead of me, in fact. I have no idea how to distract the both of you. Yet."
"Well, I'm sure you'll think of something."
"I'm good at thinking up something." Enrique watched the man sit on the back and open his briefcase. He blinked. Something had changed, he realized. There was something about Thomas that he had failed to notice until now. He caught himself glancing at the way Thomas shifted across the bed, the fabric of the slacks stretching intriguingly along the shapely thighs, and then the fabric bunched at the apex of Thomas' thighs gave a very nice illusion of a tremendous erection. Enrique felt the room spun, and sat on a chair before his knees gave way.
Strange, but Thomas was gorgeous. How come he had never noticed that intelligent air of befuddlement around that man? Enrique had a hidden weakness for nerds - he had a crush on his Chemistry tutor back in his schooldays - and when Thomas took out a pair of thick dark-rimmed glasses, Enrique almost creamed his pants. This erection definitely beat the one he had when an old boyfriend surprised him with two other willing studs in his bed on his twenty-first birthday. Or the time another ex-boyfriend blew him in public, in a Ferris wheel, of all places. Or the Most Erotic Event of his life, finally scoring with his old Chemistry tutor in his high school reunion party.
He was getting the hard-on of his life because of Thomas' glasses?
"Aunt Zel!" he yelled, slamming the door behind him. "Come out, you old bag!"
Aunt Zel was having an audience of five old people, not one under the age of 55. The town council, Enrique recognized them. And from the look on their faces, not one of them was probably discussing town politics when he interrupted them. The three six- packs, bingo cards, and a huge bowl of pretzels suggested otherwise.
"What is it Juju?"
Enrique cringed. No one called him by that disgusting name after he was old enough to beat up the boys who called him that. "You put a love spell on me!"
"I did not!" Zelda Ruminov, proclaimed White Witch, answered indignantly. "As if I need to sneak up on you young people. I have to beat off the crowd begging for my love potions with a broomstick!" She narrowed her eyes, suddenly crafty. "Eh, why do you think I put a love potion on you? You feel this thing with one of the two gringos?"
"Zel, not with an audience!" Enrique sat down, feeling that he had definitely lost control of the situation. Aunt Zel did that to him all the time, for which he loved that old witch dearly. "Hey, old people, get lost!"
"That is so rude," Aunt Zel said, reaching out and twisting his ear painfully. "Apologize at once."
Later, after Zel had dispersed her friends, they sat over a cup of warm chocolate. "You sure you didn't put some sort of love potion in my drink?" Enrique asked suspiciously.
"No. Ask me one more time, you silly boy, and I will pour the hot drink on your lap. It's not love potion, it's the Time."
"What?"
"The Time. Every one of the Ruminovs has it, and your mother must have passed it to you. Good for her! Never knew why she married your stupid ass of a father. Miri, I told her, you can just have an affair, tup that man, but don't marry him! But no, she marries him and gets her heart broken."
"Yes, yes. But what about this Time thing?" Enrique had heard his aunt rant about his father's womanizing and his mother - Zelda's sister - weeping. Not that Miri actually wept. She could equal her husband's scorecard when it came to adultery. Other children rebelled against their strict parents by screwing around. Enrique screwed around too, but thanks to juvenile rebellion instincts, he was now stuck with a yearning for monogamy that he couldn't outgrew.
"Oh, the Time is just a stupid word used to describe the feeling when we Ruminovs have when we have met our lifelong mate. The world spins and we lose our breath. We start seeing no one else but the mate we have just met. It's destiny."
"I'm going to have that arrogant mule for a mate?"
"Which mule?"
"None of your business," Enrique muttered. He refused to believe in superstitions, of course. The Time his arse. It was just lust and the fact that he hadn't actually screwed anyone since the aborted quickie with Richie. That was a month ago. Strange, really, for he had gone without any for longer time that this, but he had never been popping hard like this before. Even now, the thought of Thomas in his bed, that arrogant demeanor reduced to begging need as Enrique pounded into him, Thomas clawing at Enrique's back as he screamed for Enrique to give it to him harder, more, more, more ohyesohyesohyes.
"Enrique!"
He jumped, jolted from his pleasant daydreams, spilling chocolate onto his lap. "Fuck!" he shouted when the boiling hot liquid scorched his erection.
"That will cool you down. Now be a good boy and seduce that man that catch your fancy. Remember though, if he's like your father, don't bother beyond morning after."
TWO
Thomas watched the boy swallowed the third sword. How the boy could squeeze three sharp blades into his throat is beyond Thomas' immediate comprehension. He had tested the blades - they were razor sharp and gave him a small nick for his trouble.
"It was all a matter of muscular dexterity," Toby said, snapping a photo of the boy.
"How do you know?"
"I'm psychic."
Toby used that as a reason for everything. Thomas had met Toby in a think-tank, when Thomas was a researcher and Toby a voluntary research subject. Toby could detect auras, the paranormal researcher had informed Thomas, and somehow Thomas and Toby became friends over lunch. Toby was now a freelance paranormal researcher, which explained his presence in Achelon.
"Come on Toby, don't tell me you're actually interested in researching about these people," Thomas said, gesturing around him. "These are simple people with some few extra talents like sword swallowing and sleight-of-hand. Not exactly the mind-readers and telekinetic and Uri Gellar-wannabes you usually expose as frauds."
"No. I came here for a reason. In fact I wouldn't have come here if Zelda Ruminov hadn't offered me a tempting prize on a silver platter." Toby continued clicking away at his camera.
Thomas often wondered at the irony of a psychic being a skeptic of the paranormal. Toby was the worst of the skeptics; he couldn't resist at the chance of exposing the impossible to be exposed. "Can I be let in on the secret plan then?"
"Oh, it's no big deal. It's our tour guide Enrique. He's the big fish."
"He? He looks normal." Thomas thought of the man. Yes, Enrique looked normal. Normal height, normal looks (except for that prominent mole on his cheek), normal build. Great butt and body though.
"He's one of the most successful act in magic, although he keeps a low profile. I've seen him in action though. He is great, almost a throwback to the glory of Houdini and three times as reckless."
"Nice, but how to you intend to do whatever it is you want to do to him?"
"I just want to watch him. If he's actually a true magician, he can't help it but to perform minor acts of magic that could either be otherwise impossible or really magic. I intend to see that and then get into his psyche."
"Sounds painful." Thomas caught sight of Enrique walking out of a store. He ignored the fact that his heart gave a little jump at the sight of the man in a white shirt that clung to his frame, displaying broad, well-formed shoulders and narrow waist. And the faded jeans gave him an authentic rugged look, and damned if those jeans weren't sprayed on those muscular, shapely thighs indecently. The sizeable bulge in the groin was obscene.
A group of children surrounded Enrique, pleading something in Spanish. Enrique's well-polished laughter and theatrical gesture suggested that this was a routine event. Thomas watched as Enrique gracefully turned his right wrist nonchalantly. "How did he do that?" Thomas murmured when where Enrique's hand was empty, there was now a large bouquet of lollypops.
"Maybe he stuffed them in his crotch," Toby murmured as they watched Enrique dispense the lollypops.
Enrique was going mad. His cock was killing him. His hormones were driving him insane. Take him! Take him! they screamed in his mind whenever he caught the sight of Thomas in the streets. It was pathetic when he started to make sure he was where Thomas would be. From the amused look of the other man Toby, Enrique guessed he wasn't exactly subtle in his act. Perhaps his tongue was lolling from his mouth without him knowing.
Alone, he sat in his aunt's study and stared at the night sky outside the window. As usual, his thoughts were centered on his favorite topic of the moment: Thomas. He wondered if the man slept naked. He imagined Thomas naked, trussing around in bed, those naked thighs dislodging the blankets to expose his nudity. Thomas' cock would be hard as a rock. How long would Thomas' cock be anyway?
He was babbling even in his thoughts. Really, it was going too far. He would have to either fuck Thomas or get a substitute. Somehow he knew a substitute would never do. He reached under his T-shirt and rubbed his stomach absently. His cock was throbbing like hell, causing a huge lump in his jeans, and he rubbed it absently, feeling his balls tighten slightly upon contact.
He hadn't played with himself since he'd discovered the fun of the real thing. And he had discovered that in the very same bed Thomas was sleeping in. In fact, he could just imagine that night when he opened the window and let the boy next door in. He shut his eyes and cupped his erection, savoring the anticipation of a good jerk-off, even as he imagined his first lover touching it, taking it into his mouth, and- "Bloody hell," Enrique thought, opening his eyes when he realized somehow the lover's face had taken that of Thomas'.
"This has to stop."
"What has to stop?" Thomas said from the doorway.
Good thing the back of the chair shielded Enrique's touching of his cock from Thomas' view. Enrique looked and swallowed as pure heat seared his senses.
Thomas stood there wearing only baggy jogging pants. He smiled sheepishly. "Look, I can't sleep. I thought I'd go find a book to read. If I'm bothering you, I'll just go."
Egad, Enrique thought, adjusting his probably lust-crazed and fearsome face into a more pleasant one. It wasn't easy, not when Thomas stood there with his fair upper body exposed like a meal to be devoured. Enrique's mouth watered at the sight of those dark brown nipples puckering like luscious cherries amidst the pale smooth and almost hairless chest. It didn't matter that Thomas' body wasn't perfectly muscled or his abdominal muscles weren't as perfectly corrugated and sculpted. When the man looked like that, his dark, almost black hair carelessly rumpled and his blue-green eyes hinting at intelligence, oblivious to his own sex appeal, Enrique wanted nothing more than to howl in frustration.
He should be noble. If Thomas didn't come any nearer, Enrique would be a nice gentleman and leave him alone. Until maybe ten minutes later.
Thomas walked quietly to sit opposite Enrique.
Enrique looked at the sight of Thomas' bare feet treading the carpeted floor and thought it was a far sexier sight than anything in the world.
"Are you okay?" Thomas patted Enrique's knee, the touch sending white-hot shock to Enrique's senses.
Too bad. It was destiny. Thomas refused to stay away and now Enrique would have him.
Enrique snapped his fingers and a stalk of blood red rose appeared between his fingers. "Here."
"You have that hidden somewhere in your sleeve," Thomas said, but he smiled as he took the rose.
"Oh yeah?" Enrique snapped his fingers again and produced a bouquet of the same type of roses. "How about this?"
"Toby said you'd probably hide them in your crotch."
Enrique's eyes followed Thomas' as the man lowered his lashes at Enrique's blatant erection pushing against the confines of his jeans. He saw the almost feminine eyelashes tremble, and the man's Adam apple quivered.
"Maybe I should go," Thomas said shakily, trying to stand.
"Toby will be disappointed you gave in so easily. You're supposed to try to discover how I do those roses. And this." Enrique stretched and pulled a white rose out of thin air. He followed that with a book.
"That's the book I was reading." Thomas sputtered. "How did you do that?"
"Like you said, I hid it on my body." Enrique sat up and pulled his T-shirt over his head. "See? Nothing here."
He was proud of his body. He knew without vanity that many found it sexually irresistible. Hell, after years of body sculpting and workout's in gyms, his body had better be perfect. Placing a hand on the line bisecting his chest, he smiled. "Why not frisk me and see if I indeed hide some things in my crotch?"
"Look, I'm not looking for - Enrique!" Thomas gasped when Enrique pulled him down to the carpet with him. "Look, I am not."
"If you're not gay, I'll teach you to be one," Enrique said, growled actually. He placed his hands on Thomas' arms, clamping them hard and pinning Thomas' hands to the floor. "Tell me you don't feel it between us too." He placed his knees at each side of Thomas and lowered himself until their chests are flattened together and Enrique's cock was pushing hungrily at Thomas'. "I'll make you want me. Want this," he said, grinding his cock hard against Thomas. "Feel my cock? It's so filled with need. You made me want you. You make my cock hard as a rock and my balls full of lust. You made me want you, mad for you, and by God, you will give yourself to me."
"Oh," Thomas could only gasp when Enrique's mouth sucked at his Adam's apple, not- too-gently nibbling at it and the skin around it. "Oh God, what are you doing to me?"
Enrique's reply was to caress, tug, pull, and fondle those nipples that maddened him and made his mouth water even as he explored Thomas' throat, his tongue burning the man's senses with its caress. His thighs slowly insinuated between Thomas', and without any coherent thought, the latter had spread himself wide to allow Enrique's fingers to rub at the teasing groove between his legs.
"Careful, I haven't really - ohhhh!" Thomas threw his head back when Enrique's mouth began kissing and tasting his body, slowly moving down his stomach. The mouth stopped at the navel, Enrique's tongue delving into the shallow hole. Thomas clenched his buttocks and lifted his lower body insistently when Enrique tugged at the man's waistband.
Then Enrique's mouth found Thomas' inner thigh, that rough tongue moving along the sensitive skin, leaving a wet trail of moisture from the upper thigh down to the inner knee. Then Enrique backed up, until his face was buried in the heated juncture of Thomas' thighs. When that tongue started rimming Thomas' puckering ring muscles, tracing the curvature of the ring of muscles that surrounded the hole, Thomas gave a shuddering cry. Then that tongue speared right in, shocking Thomas with the sudden roughness of the tongue's texture and the heat of Enrique's mouth penetrating his yearning anus. He grabbed his legs and pulled them as high and as far apart as flexibility allowed him. He let his head fall back to the carpet and shutting his eyes as Enrique began thrusting that tongue in and out of him; stopping just almost outside to move in a circular motion that stretched Thomas wide, before thrusting back in.
It was a motion too shallow. Too brief. Thomas was aching inside, and there was a pulsating need in his loins that could only be eased by deeper penetration. "Enrique, please." he began in a choked voice.
"I know." Enrique raised himself.
Thomas shut his eyes, almost dreading the moment he felt the man's broad and moist head of his penis fitting against his sphincter. He felt Enrique push, and the agony that ripped through him caused him to bite his tongue and dug his nails into Enrique's tensed biceps. Then somehow, he felt himself give, and it was a shock when he was suddenly filled so deep up, so good, so fucking good. Enrique gasped when Thomas tightened his muscles around that throbbing penis, sheathing him in a burning hot furnace of a grip. "Move, damn you," he hissed, clenching his ass and flexing it even as he gyrated his hips in shallow thrusts, "move!"
"You're so tight, so hot," Enrique choked back, every muscle of his body tensed. "I'll come if you don't stop moving."
"Then come, you bastard!" Thomas cried, his gyrations became more frenzied as the ache in him begged for relief. "Come, you fucking son of a bitch. Give it to me! Fill me up."
Sweat rolled down Enrique's forehead to fall on Thomas' chest as Enrique thrust one, two, three shallow thrusts, then he threw his head back, eyes shut and teeth gritted hard as he arched his back and plunged even deeper up Thomas' heated tunnel. He shuddered, biting back a scream as his semen surged forth in his ejaculation, flooding Thomas' anus and feeding the man's screaming need. Upon feeling the hot liquid pouring into him, something inside Thomas snapped and he cried out in pleasure-pain-relief when his own orgasm racked him, spilling his semen down his thighs and all over his stomach.
Enrique collapsed onto Thomas, breathing heavily. Thomas ran his fingers through Enrique's short dark hair, listening to their heavy breathing slowing in the aftermath of their coupling. At length, Enrique gave a short laugh and said, "Guess what?"
"What?"
"We didn't even kiss," Enrique murmured and almost timidly touched his lips to Thomas'. In doing so, he lifted his hips, letting his half-erect cock pull a few inches out of Thomas. He slowly plunged back in, blood filling his cock to tumescence once again, as his tongue slipped between Thomas' lips.
"Oh God!"
Enrique opened his eyes reluctantly. The sunlight streaming into the study momentarily blinded him, and it was a moment before he could make out Tobias Stephens standing at the doorway in shock.
"What?" Thomas suddenly came to wakefulness beneath Enrique. "Toby!"
"I told you to get him to trust you, not to sleep with him!" Toby sputtered, hand on the doorknob.
"What?" Enrique reeled. It couldn't be. He threw himself off Thomas, heedless of his nudity. "You're just seducing me to learn my secrets?"
"No, I didn't. You started it, not me," Thomas shot back. He too jumped to his feet, with a pained grimace.
"You're sore." Of course Thomas hadn't done that. Enrique cursed himself to thinking the worst of Thomas so easily. Anyone could see that that man was crazy about him. "I'll get you a warm bath."
"Forget it. You don't trust me, even after I let you," Thomas blushed. "well, let you did what you did to me. Forget it. It's obvious last night don't mean anything to you."
"Wait! Thomas, I. fuck!" Enrique cursed foully when Thomas and Toby ignored him and slammed the door shut on his face.
THREE
"He's still outside." Toby looked up from the book he was reading and looked out the window. "And it's raining."
"So?" Thomas stared miserably at the wall.
"I mean, it's obvious the guy is nuts about you. I'm sorry for making him think the worst about you, but that's in the past. Two weeks ago, really. That guy has been standing vigil twenty-four hours every day, rain or shine, for fifteen days straight. Surely you owe him at least a `Fuck off!'?"
Thomas stood up and looked out at the man sitting on the stairs of the outside yard of the inn, not moving even when rain poured like hell. "He will get a flu."
"Are you going to invite him in? I can always go downstairs to chat with the innkeeper for an hour or so."
"I don't know. I hardly know him." Thomas paused and looked down at the man waiting. Enrique had caused quite a talk with his vigil, not budging from his self-imposed punishment. Aunt Zel sent someone to send him his meals, and Thomas didn't want to know how Enrique answered the call of nature. It was also a nuisance, as Thomas found himself unwilling to face his feelings for that man, much less meeting the man, and hence he too had cooped himself up in his room. Now, he looked at Enrique and a thought hit him. Enrique had been waiting for fifteen days, six hours, twenty-four minutes and thirty- seven seconds. There was no guarantee that he would wait any longer in the next minute, was there? What if Enrique got tired and just walked away?
Thomas found that he didn't like that. He didn't like unpredictable patterns in his life, and Enrique was unpredictable. He didn't like the idea of not having Enrique around him. Magic did somehow had its appeal.
"Toby."
"Yeah?"
"Get lost for a few hours."