The Lifeguard

Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction. If you are offended by graphic descriptions of homosexual acts, go somewhere else.

Copyright c 2000 by Orrin C. Rush. All rights reserved.

Neither this story nor any parts of it may be distributed electronically or in any other manner without the express, written consent of the author.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance of the characters to anyone living or dead is pure coincidence and not intended. They are all products of the author's imagination.

THE LIFEGUARD

Chapter 22

A Japanese businessman friend of mine had told me that in order to avoid Jet-Lag, he got into a swimming pool as soon as he could after landing. Not swimming, but letting the buoyancy of the water restore his equilibrium. I decided to try it.

As soon as we got home, Eric and I got into the pool. This may have helped, but I was still a zombie for a week. Eric was no better off.

That didn't matter. We both still had work to do. I took it easy, handling routine stuff that had piled up. Eric didn't have that luxury, and was immediately into a frenzy of activity.

The mergers that Eric had initiated had all gained stockholder approval, but there were still lots of details to be worked out. That responsibility fell on Eric. Whenever a problem would crop up over some detail, he provided the grease to get things back on track.

He literally commuted up and down the West Coast with occasional side trips to Denver to smooth feathers there. He made his monthly trip to New York, and again spent more time there than I liked.

It certainly wasn't that I didn't trust him. Selfishly, I just wanted him around.

On our trip, I'd noticed that Eric bought several excellent reproductions of ancient Cycladic sculpture. We'd discussed them at the time, but when we got home, nothing more was said, and they disappeared. I gave this a little thought, but didn't dwell on it. It was uncharacteristic of Eric, and I guess I was more curious than anything else.

The small appliances that Metalco produced were sold under several brand names, covering everything from the low end to the very high end of the market. We were also known for our innovation and keeping up with the latest technologies and designs.

Our design team took a hard look at Milton's products and came up with some new design concepts. When they felt they were ready, they got the sales group together and made a presentation. Bill and I sat in.

They explained that their starting point had been the box that Milton made that housed computer central processing units. Since the inception of the personal computer, these had been grey or beige rectangular boxes that either laid flat or on edge, and had not changed in the last 25 years except for the Apple I-Macs.

They were functional but not very pretty. They proposed to change all that.

The first step was to add some color. A display of the usual rectangular cases in a variety of solid colors and woodgrain finishes was unveiled. They were a definite improvement over the usual ones.

Next, matching monitors were added. Then keyboards. Then printers and scanners. This was definitely getting MY interest!

"Why stop there?" the presenter asked.

More CPU cases came out in a number of shapes. Cubes, round and free-form, again in a variety of finishes.

"Monitor cases, printer cases and scanner cases are all mostly metal, our specialty," it was explained. "Keyboards are plastic, but changing the finish would be easy."

Then came the bottom line. "Will these sell?"

I was impressed, but wanted to hear the reaction of our sales people. Some were wildly enthusiastic, others wanted to "think about it." That was understandable. It was a revolutionary concept, and would require a selling job, probably starting with top of the line systems, then, with volume and reduced costs, hopefully become everyday items.

One selling point that I saw immediately was that it was "new" and once introduced, users would just "Have to Have" one. This would generate new sales for computer makers, our customers.

The concept was batted around in all the departments that had any involvement - from sales to production. The conclusion that most reached was that we had to offer a "complete package". CPU, monitor keyboard and printer that all matched.

The CPU's we had under control. We already made them and had a good market share.

There were only one or two "names" in the monitor field, the market being pretty fragmented without anyone dominating it. Who would we approach with our concept and how?

Only a few printer manufacturers led the field. Again, how would we approach them?

Keyboards were made by a lot of companies. We could either talk one into changing the finish on their plastic, or contracting with them to make some for us.

We put a team to work researching every company making each of these products.

Before we spent too much time and money on the idea, Sales wanted to try out the concept with some of Milton's more agressive customers.

Tina was getting close to having a presentation on the New Headquarters building ready, Annie wasn't around a lot. I'd heard that Kevin had gotten his own apartment, and Eric had slowed down his pace to just a dead run.

He spent a lot of time traveling, and when he announced another trip to New York "for a few days", I got jealous.

"I want you to go with me," he told me. "No, I demand that you go with me this time. I've even got a reason."

"And what would that be?" I asked cautiously, knowing that he wasn't above coming up with something outlandish or off the wall.

"Jerry would like to talk to you. Says he's going to proposition you."

"I didn't think he was into guys, but what the hell, he's kinda cute."

"Asshole," he broke in, exasperated but smiling. "He's got a business deal he wants to talk about with you. He's straight, too. Wifey, kiddies, the whole thing."

"Bet he's got a nice dick, too," I said, not letting my fun stop.

"Is that all you ever think about?"

"You betcha," I told him. "Particularly when I have the world's most perfect example staring me right in the face. Can I suck it?"

"You're impossible," he groaned, still smiling. "Will you go with me?"

"I'll go if you'll cum," I said with a straight face. "Get over here and let me atcha."

Talking to Jerry was a good enough excuse for me. I hadn't been out of town in a while, and New York might be fun. It was Fall, and if we could, I'd like to drive up to New England and see the Fall colors.

We flew commercial, on Eric's expense account. Metalco now had two small jets. We'd added another, leased, until the G5 on order would be ready for delivery. As busy as they seemed to be, we'd probably end up with 3, and the guys were already looking for more pilots.

Eric made all the arrangements. I sat back and enjoyed. On the way into Manhattan, I asked "Where are we staying?"

"Some sleazy dump," he said, his eyes sparkling. "I think you'll like it. Something different for a change."

It was obvious that something was "up". Eric loved surprising me, but this was the first indication that he had something planned for this trip.

"Just as long as there aren't any bedbugs. I've got a tender butt."

"I know," he grinned. "Tight too!"

The limo pulled up to the curb. It wasn't a hotel but there was a doorman to help us out of the car. We went into the lobby and to the elevators. Eric pushed "P" at the top of the buttons.

We came out in a small paneled vestibule. There were two doors, one small, the other large and ornately carved. Eric went to the big one and opened it with a key.

"Come on," he said urgently. His excitement was very noticeable, and I followed obediently.

First a marble floored foyer, then a short hallway, then a large room paneled in glass with a breathtaking view of the New York skyline.

I turned to him, asking "What is this?" Before he could answer, I looked beyond him and saw a Cycladic sculpture perfectly placed. My mouth fell open. I knew.

He saw my reaction. "It's ours."

I pivoted to take it all in, then took him in my arms. "It's magnificent." I told him, sincerely meaning it.

He broke our embrace. "Let me show you around." I followed.

He was as excited as a little kid. He had reason to be. It was a spectacular place, and the rooms that were complete were beautifully decorated. In the master bedroom, he patted the huge bed. "Virgin, never been slept in," he said, "Or....either, but that's going to change real fast."

While he made us drinks, I had a chance to really look over the room with the fabulous view. Warm colors had been used, browns, oranges and reds. My favorite - I'm not a "cool" color type person, and obviously Eric wasn't either.

We may have had similar tastes, but Eric's personality was stamped on the place. Nice clean lines, orderly but inviting. It would take me some time to get comfortable here, but I would make an effort. Eric had gone through that process when he'd moved in with me, I'm sure.

"Do you like it?" he asked as he set down our drinks.

"I'm overwhelmed," I told him, taking him into my arms. "How the hell did you do all this so quietly?"

"I had a lot of help."

"I can bet, Sarah!"

"She directed traffic," he said. "I picked everything out myself. I had the 'sweetest' decorator you've ever seen to help me, though."

"Bet he wanted to decorate more than your house!"

"He wasn't direct, but the innuendo got pretty thick. I'm just NOT into effeminate men."

"Whatever, you guys did a fabulous job."

"It's a long story," he said. "We'll save that for later."

We cuddled, watching the lights come on in the skyscrapers, the sun setting behind them.

"I'm not going to embarass myself trying to cook," he said. "I'm taking you out."

"You're going to have to carry me over the threshhold on the way back," I warned.

"Don't think so," he laughed, "in addition to being too damned heavy, you're not my wife, you're my partner. We walk side by side, remember?"

The view from the bedroom was as spectacular as from any other room. We lay in each other's arms looking.

Eric broke the reverie by rolling me on my back, putting his lips on mine.

After lubing me up, Eric sat slowly down on me. When I was all the way in, he ground into me, moving his hips in a circular motion. It felt so good. He was tight, but not as tight as he'd been the first few times. I liked it better this way. At first it had been almost painful.

He'd also developed unbelievable control. He could just sit on me, and his internal muscles did all the work, stroking me, coaxing me. When he did this, I had to fight cumming. Staring at his long dick standing in front of me dribbling precum didn't help. Sometimes he liked to reach orgasm with only anal stimulation, other times he liked me to stroke him. Nothing was ever said, I could feel what he wanted.

I stroked him slowly, concentrating on giving him pleasure, hoping to divert my attention from the churning that was already taking place in my balls. He raised slowly until the ridge of my corona was against his prostate. I could feel it rubbing up and down against my sensitive cockhead.

Then the long strokes. He rose on his knees until only the head of my cock was inside, then slowly lowered himself all the way, eliciting a shiver as he did it. The tempo increased. He never bounced hard, but the pace quickened until he hit bottom hard, squirmed around to get every last fraction of an inch into him, and blew huge wads of cum all over my chest. His internal muscles spasmed and I lost control. Intense feelings swept through my whole body, and I flooded him with all I had to offer.

The sensations lingered, then the aftershocks started. A few more spurts flew from his dick as I continued to stroke, and I felt intermittant spasms coming from my own buried tool.

His eyes opened and a huge smile spread across his face. "I love you," he whispered.

He did have coffee. Other than that, the kitchen was bare.

In daylight, the apartment, or flat, as he called it, was even more spectacular. Sunlight streamed in the windows making all the warm colors glow and there were windows everywhere, floor to ceiling. I immediately fell in love with the place.

Whether we liked it or not, it was a workday. I was going to get "propositioned", too.

We went straight to Jerry's office on the top floor. All four were there waiting for us, and they greeted Eric like a long lost brother, and me like a member of the family. I really liked their easygoing manner.

Greg was the first to bring up business. "We've got a problem," he said. "Production, and who knows more about that than you do, Dave?"

I shrugged and he continued. "A couple of years ago, we built a plant up in New Hampshire to produce our software. It never has run very smoothly, and since our volume has skyrocketed, we're having to farm out more and more production. It's getting worse every month, and we'll be rolling out our new stuff in a few months, and, quite frankly, KNOW we won't be able to handle demand.

"Recognizing this, we're turning to somebody who knows production, or has people that do. We're good at just about every other phase of our business, but we haven't a clue about making the product. We've gone through a dozen managers, and it keeps getting worse. I guess we just don't have the background to give them the direction they need."

"What would you like me to do?" I asked.

"Honestly, we'd like to have you take it over," Jerry said. "We know it's small potatoes to you, but you're getting into the high-tech market with Milton's products, and this may fit right in. We'd be willing to give you a 10 year contract to produce all of our stuff, and I know that there's a lot of smaller Software Developers with the same problems we have. We're losing money, but we're pretty sure that you could turn it around and make a bundle."

"This was Eric's idea, by the way," he added.

I glanced at him, and couldn't help but grin back at his beaming face.

"It might be interesting," I told them. "I'll give it a look."

We talked some more about it, and how they'd virtually give us the plant just to be rid of the headaches and have a reliable source of product.

Eric had all the details in his office, so we went there to look them over. This was the first time I'd been there, and I was duly impressed. Also on the top floor, a great view, and on a credenza behind his desk, a picture of him and me that had been taken on our cruise in the Caribbean.

"Getting pretty bold, aren't you," I stated, pointing at the picture.

"That's not bold, that's reality," he answered.

Eric filled me in on more details. The consulting firm that had designed and built the plant for Micron had projected an "out the door" production cost of $2.50 per unit. That was for the copying and packaging only, not the materials. Current costs were running in the $8.00 range, and output volume was totally unpredictable.

Outside contractors were charging $6.00 per unit, and Micron felt that more copies of their software were finding their way into the "gray" market than were being shipped to legitimate customers. Quality control was also a major issue.

"How many units are we talking about here?" I asked.

"Around 20 million a year," he answered. "That figure will undoubtedly go up with the new roll-out."

"I hope I'm not putting you in a difficult position," I said, smiling. "You work for them, so don't tell me anything I shouldn't hear, OK?"

"Don't worry, there's no conflict of interest. They just want to get rid of the headaches and they've 'ordered' me to answer all your questions. If I don't have the answers, they'll get them for me. I'm just doing my job."

"OK. How much do they want for the plant?"

"They're willing to lease it to you for a dollar a year for two years with an option to buy at their book value at that time, or whenever you exercise the option."

"They must really want out bad!" I commented. "How much are they willing to pay for the finished product?"

"They'd LIKE to pay around $4.00, but have told me that they'd jump at $5.00 a unit. That's on the primary system line. On other programs that are more or less complicated to produce and package, the price would be negotiated."

"That's more than fair."

"It's more than just the cost of the product, it's on-time deliveries and quality control that's the big thing. They desperately need reliability."

"Do you think they could spare your gorgeous butt for a few days so we could drive up and take a look at it?" I wondered.

"Would day-after-tomorrow be OK? The reservations are already made."

"You're getting to know me so damned well it scares me!"

I called our production guys on the West Coast and told them to drop everything and meet us in New Hampshire.

Over lunch, I told Eric that I would give the idea fair consideration, but there was one condition.

"Since you're throwing this my way, I want you to have a piece of the action. It has to be totally open, everybody has to know about it, even the regulatory agencies."

"You were the obvious solution, that's why I suggested you. Why do you want me to have a piece?"

"Because I love you. But other than that, this looks like it could be a real goldmine, and it's all your fault!" I chuckled. "We'll keep that part of the deal to ourselves until we look the place over."

We met with the "guys" again. I told them that I was considering their offer, but wouldn't make a commitment until Metalco people could look the plant over and analyze the situation. This was more than agreeable.

Eric had already gotten my permission to show his bosses pictures of the new computer cases we were considering producing, and laid out pictures of the prototypes for them to see.

I was absolutely astounded at their reaction. The words "way cool" and "awesome" were used a lot.

"Our people would go nuts over these," Jerry announced. "How soon can we get, say, 5,000 of 'em?" All four of them looked at me expectantly.

"We're just getting started," I said. "We're still in the development stage."

"We want the first ones," Greg said, "as soon as we can. These are a fucking brilliant idea!"

I wondered if they were saying that to encourage me to take over their production problems. I mentioned this to Eric on the taxi ride "home".

"Not them," he said. "They don't bullshit. I think they gave you the answer you were looking for."

"If only everyone had that reaction..."

"They will," he assured me. "I think you have a real winner there."

We talked business for a few minutes, then I changed the subject. "I want to know all about this place."

"It was just a brainstorm at first, but the more I thought about it, the more sense it made. I'll be commuting back here for at least the next two years, and you're spending more time back here, so I figured that we could use an East Coast 'home base'.

"I ran the idea past Sarah, and she thought it was great, and offered to help me. That lady has connections everywhere! The next thing I knew a Realtor was dragging me around. I saw this place, fell in love with it, and bought it."

"You BOUGHT it?"

"The building is a co-op, like a condo. I even had to pass muster with the building committee. They had to be sure that I was 'suitable', but with Sarah as a sponsor, it was a snap. Didn't even have to tell 'em we're queer!"

"Must've set you back a bundle."

"Yep, but I paid cash. I think it's a good investment."

"And the art?" I asked, pointing to a Gaugin that sure wasn't a fake.

"On loan from Sarah. She insisted, said that they were just 'gathering dust' and the colors went well with the rest of the place," he said, laughing.

"You've done an incredible job," I told him.

"There's a lot more work to do. Several rooms still need work. I'm just happy that you like it."

"I love it, but I'd love anyplace where YOU were."

"By the way, WE are having a party Friday night. It's my turn to show you off, and there are a lot of people I'm anxious for you to meet."

"You're so damned full of surprises," I told him.

"Dontcha love it!"

We took a very early flight. Mike, Metalco's Production chief and his right hand man were waiting for us and we drove directly to the Micron facility.

It wasn't large, by our standards, so the tour only lasted about an hour. Mike suggested we find someplace for a cup of coffee.

When we'd ordered, I asked him what he thought.

"That place is a cluster fuck," he said seriously, but that got us all laughing. "I don't know exactly what they're doing, or how they're trying to do it, but it doesn't take much to see that they're not doing it very well."

He took a sip of coffee and continued "There is no production flow, and hell, half the equipment was down. Aren't they running way behind schedule?"

"That's what I hear," I said. "Think we could do any better?"

"Offhand, hell yes, but I'd like to spend some more time there before I give you a definite answer. Also like to do a little research. Who do I go to with questions?"

"Call me," Eric said, handing him a card. "If I don't have the answers, I'll get them for you."

"Is this a 'hurry-up' thing, Dave?" Mike asked.

"We need to move pretty fast. Can you spend a few days on it?"

"No problem there, things are kind of quiet at home. No disasters for a change," he chuckled.

We got another rental car for Mike. Eric and I took off on our own for a quick look at the Autumn leaves. We figured that we might as well since we were there anyway.

On the flight home, I asked Eric about the party "we" were having.

"Eight for dinner, no big deal," he said, baiting me.

"I assume you're cooking?" I teased.

"Yep, gotta slave over the stove all day tomorrow."

"C'mon, what's up."

"Remember that chef that cooked my Birthday dinner in Denver?"

I nodded.

"He's back in New York, and I conned him into making a housecall."

"Nothing you do surprises me," I laughed.

"He's taking care of everything, right down to the silverware. All we have to do is be there.

"Oh yes, WE don't have any of that stuff yet - dishes, glassware, silverware. Chef Maurice has offered to help us pick stuff out, and he can get it for us wholesale! You ready to go shopping?"

"Not on your life," I laughed. "You know me and shopping! You guys do it."

At home, sated from a big dinner, we lay in each other's arms looking at the skyline.

"You tickle me," I told him, chuckling. "You spend millions on a place like this then worry about buying glassware wholesale."

He turned and looked at me seriously. "I need to tell you a few things. In the year and a half we've been together, you've shown me so much, opened so many doors, and, yes, made me a rich man.

"I've fought you on the money thing since day one. You were patient, and gradually, by watching the example you set, I realized that having money wasn't a bad thing. You've shown me that it is something you use and enjoy, you control it, it doesn't control you.

"You've also convinced me that I actually earned the money you've given me. It took a long time, but you succeeded. I'm finally comfortable with it and can enjoy spending it.

"Ever since the day Bill handed me the first check, I haven't touched the account you set up for me. Charles calls about once a month to see if anything's wrong." He held up his hand to stop me from interrupting.

"What you did for me was generous, to a fault. There weren't any strings and you didn't try to control me. But, the greatest gift you gave me was trust."

Our eyes were locked. I was misty eyed, and a tear rolled down his cheek. Gently I took him into my arms and just held him. I felt a sob or two as we clung to each other.

Composed, he continued. "You've never asked what I did with that money you paid me, never questioned me. Well, I took your suggestion and talked to your finance guys. They set me up so I wouldn't pay it all in taxes, and set up an investment program. I've got close to $20 million in investments, and I'm earning over a million a year income from them, after taxes. I can't spend that much, not to mention the money I'm making from Micron.

"Once I'd gotten the idea to find a place for us here in New York, I wanted you to be a part of the decision, but I decided not to for two reasons. First, I wanted to surprise you, and then, I knew if you were involved, you'd insist on paying for it. I couldn't let you do that because I felt it was my turn to give something to US."

"We'll have to find another one," I suggested, "then we can have 'his', 'his' and 'ours'."

"No, I won't go for that," he answered. "I feel that 'your' home is now my home too. I want you to feel the same way about this place. The only difference, if we buy something together, is the way the choice was made. They're all OURS."

"Material things just aren't that important," I said.

"Yes they are," he countered, "but only if you enjoy them and don't let them become your whole focus in life. You don't, and I'm learning to put these things in their proper perspective, but I still love a bargain!"

Eric was a planner - and a delegator. He conceptualized then turned the execution over to someone else. Our first dinner party in New York bore that out.

Sarah helped him with the guest list, and Chef Maurice handled everything else. I don't know what he'd done to induce the Chef to go all-out. Whatever it was, it worked. This was definitely not a hotel catering job.

Eric went over the guest list with me. There would be Sarah, of course, and Count whatsisname that Sarah had feted, Greg and his wife from Micron, and a couple whose name I recognized.

"I've been to a couple of dinners at Tom and Denise's," Eric explained. "They're the oldtime bankers that own half of the major industries in the country. They're really nice, and they want to meet you."

The others I knew, but asked "Why Greg and not the others?"

"He's the real 'driving force' behind Micron, the business brain. I wanted to have him meet the Count, because I feel that there are some real opportunities in his country, and Micron might be interested."

Sarah was the first to arrive. "What do you think of what our boy's done?" she asked.

I noticed the possessive "our". At least she was sharing!

"I'm overwhelmed," I admitted. "Thank you for all your help."

"I did very little," she admitted. "Eric had his hand in every detail."

"How'd he con you into loaning him all this priceless art?" I asked.

"It was my idea. I don't have a place for them, and I wanted them to be appreciated. There are quite a few more that I want you guys to have." Then in a conspiratorial whisper, "Eric doesn't know it yet, but I've willed all of them to the Metropolitan, but they're to be his for his lifetime."

I was shocked. What a truly magnificent gift! Eric was a charmer, no doubt of that, but he was sincere. That made the difference.

"That boy has been a ray of sunshine in my life these last few months. I'm really going to miss him when he moves out."

"He'll still be around, and so will I, now that we have this place."

"I truly hope so," she said. "By the way, I'm having my annual houseparty in the South of France next month. Could you and Eric pop in for a weekend at least?"

"Can we let you know?"

We flew back to the West Coast on Sunday. Back to the old grind. Eric was still "babysitting" Micron's acquisitions, smoothing the way for their integration. His highest priority, however, was the production problem, and he would be working closely with Metalco on that.

The more I thought about it, the more the idea of getting into that unrelated field appealed to me. I felt really confident that if anybody could make it a viable operation, our people could. They'd learn the technology involved and make it run right.

For so many years, Metalco had just grown on its own. I hadn't been really interested, so hadn't gotten involved. Even though this project was, in terms of the big picture, a very small one, it was exciting to be part of it. It wasn't the money, but the thrill of accomplishing something. Sleeping beauty, in the seat next to me, was totally responsible.

The Micron guys' reaction to our PC redesign was also exciting. No telling where that might lead, and I wanted to be in on the whole thing.

Our people had been busy, and there was a lot to catch-up on when I got to the office. Mike had spent three days in New Hampshire, and had downloaded a lot of their production records. These were being analyzed. He'd turned the technological aspects over to one of his guys, and they were already looking at other equpment to handle the job. They'd have a complete feasability study completed soon.

Bill told me that the PC project had hit a snag. Everything was "go" except the monitors. Nobody wanted to make any changes - even if it only meant a different paint job.

I surprised him by saying "Then we'd better look for a monitor company to buy."

"You're serious?" he asked.

"I think this thing has potential," I told him. "We need all the 'parts' to make this thing work. If we can't get somebody else to do it, we'll do it ourselves."

"Welcome back," he said, shaking his head. "At least we got a week of peace and quiet while you were gone. Here we go again, I love it!"

Since the first mention of Eric in the article about Metalco, he had received several requests for interviews. He had turned them all down, hoping that they'd forget about him. The writer of the original article had been on his trail, however, and published another article, this one totally devoted to Eric.

I saw it first, in the morning paper. It was titled "Sic 'em Eric". The first paragraph started out:

"Eric "Zap the Bankers" Lundborg has been a busy boy. Although he maintains close ties to Metalco, the West Coast giant, he's been busy on the East Coast too.

"The wave of acquisitions by Micron, the Software powerhouse, attest to his ability to keep things simple. There wasn't an Investment Banker in sight on any of these transactions. Do we see a trend developing here?"

The long article went on to detail Eric's involvement in the Micron deals, his current position with Micron, and an analysis of what this could mean to the Investment Banking community.

It was a highly flattering article. My reaction was both pride and dismay. Selfishly, I didn't want him to become a public figure. I wanted him all to myself and the privacy that we shared. Oh well, we'd survive. I'd make an effort to be as excited as I knew he'd be.

He was working with my guys on the Micron project, and had gone in to the office early. When I got there, he was waiting in my office.

"Did you see this?" he asked, brandishing the paper.

"Yes," I smiled at him.

He was as excited as I'd ever seen him. "I wanted you to know how excited I really am, then I can turn on the 'humble' face."

"Enjoy it! You have every reason to be excited," I told him, catching his mood.

"I'm going to. One of these days I'm going to fall flat on my face, then see what they say!"

"Don't you know?" I asked him. "You're supposed to ride high on your successes and cover up your failures."

"Is that how it works?" he laughed.

"It works for me!"

"I just can't imagine you failing at anything," he said seriously.

"See! It works. I hide 'em fast!"

"I hear that I'm getting a few calls at the office and also at the New York office."

"That's not a surprise. Everybody'll be after your hot body, but, you know what? It's mine!"

"And damn well going to stay that way."

"Let me take you to lunch so you can enjoy all this," I suggested. "I want to sit back and watch you get fawned over."

The press was polite, but firm and very damn persistant. Eric was equally firm about no interviews and definitely no pictures. A local paper even went so far as to get his High School yearbook picture and run it. We got a good laugh out of that. The scourge of the Investment Banking industry looked so sweet and innocent.

Mike called to let me know that he and his crew had reached some conclusions about the PC project, and we all got together.

"I know we've got factories all over the world," he started, "but I'd like to box that whole thing up and move it here. Once we have all the bugs worked out, we could move it across the border to Mexico.

"We've analyzed all the equipment they have, and, if we're going to eliminate the bottlenecks they have, we're going to have to buy a few things." He was grinning.

"When you say a 'few' things, what are we looking at, dollarwise?" I asked.

"Oh, only around $15 million," he grinned. "That's not much when you consider what it'll do."

"OK," I said. "If we do that, how many units can we turn out, and what're they going to cost us?"

"Barring any catastrophes, and factoring in the new equipment, we should be able to turn out 3 million units a month at a cost of right at $2.00 each."

"Have you figured out the logistics?"

"If we already have the new equipment here, we could move the whole thing and have it set up and running in two weeks. If we're in a super rush, we could air freight the stuff and do it in about 10 days."

"Let's do it," I said. "Give me a couple of days to get everything tied up, then we'll go with it."

The smiles I saw told me that this was going to be a fun project, and a nice moneymaker to boot. Give these guys a challenge and they ran with it.

"Call your bosses and tell them they have a deal," I told Eric on the phone.

"Yippee!" he shouted. "I hoped it'd work out."

"Time will tell, but we're gonna give it a shot."

"How much?"

"$4.50," I said, grabbing a number off the top of my head.

"Can you make any money at that price?" he asked, concerned.

"Ooooooh YES!" I assured him. "We've got real production people, not a bunch of damned consultants."

"They'll be rather happy with that kind of news," he said, chuckling.

"Set up an appointment so we can work out the details. When can you go?"

"My time is yours," he shot back, "and that's not all!"

"Promises, promises."

"You'll see..."

"Seriously, we're ready to move on this. The sooner the better."

Eric kept his promise and fucked me until I was delirious that night.

We took a Metalco plane. Since we'd been flying commercial, we'd missed a lot of meetings of the "Five Mile High" club and needed to catch up.

Jason and one of the new guys were our pilots. I hadn't seen the new guy before, and had to give Jason a bad time about him. "How can you keep your hands off of that gorgeous hunk?" I asked.

"Not easy," he admitted. "I think he's got a small dick though, and I'm a size queen, remember?"

The penthouse was dark when we walked in, then Eric touched a switch and all the drapes pulled back and the afternoon sun flooded in. It was warm and inviting, and I was feeling more 'at home' already. I was curious, though. "Who takes care of this place when we're not here?" I asked.

"Sarah steered me to a maid service that comes in just before we get here, then comes in daily while we're here. They do all the cleaning and laundry."

Changing the subject, he continued. "Our meeting tomorrow should only last a couple of hours, then I'm going shopping for basics - underwear, socks, that sort of thing, so we don't have to bring everything with us every time. Either you come with me or I'll buy you purple underwear and pink sox."

"I'll go under two conditions," I told him, laughing. "First, you have to model the underwear, and second, I'm buying. Let's splurge!"

"There you go again," he chuckled. "What the hell, we've both got more money than we can ever spend. I wouldn't mind prancing around in some bikini underwear, either."

"You'd never fit in 'em, my dear," I told him. "If you did manage to cram it in, you'd be arrested for inciting a riot."

The Micron boys were really happy to see us. The looks of relief on their faces told the whole story.

I outlined our plans in detail. They were surprised at our desire to move the plant to California, but agreed to that and all the other parts of my proposal.

"We're not doing this as a favor," I told them. "We intend to make money, and provide you with the product you need, on time, in the process."

"One other thing," I continued. "We're going to set this up as a separate corporation. It'll have the backing of Metalco, but be owned 75% by my family and 25% by Eric.

"Our Legal department has gone over this, and they can't find anything improper or a conflict of interest. That, however, is up to you guys, how you see it."

They looked at each other and shrugged. "I can't see anything wrong with that," Greg said.

"Me either," Jerry concurred. "Just as long as Eric doesn't get distracted too much. He's too damned important to us."

"Just to be on the safe side," Greg spoke up, "we'll have our Legal give us an opinion, and if they agree, we'll pass a board resolution. Cover everybody's asses that way."

"It's a deal, then," I said, getting up to shake on it.

Eric gave me hell.

"I thought you'd forgotten about that," he yelled at me. "Why didn't you warn me?"

"Because I knew you'd react just like you are right now."

"But I don't WANT to own a big part of that business. I don't need it!"

"Isn't the fact that I want you to have it enough?" I asked, then laid a big wet sloppy kiss right on his lips, right there on one of the busiest sidewalks in New York.

That got his attention, as well as the attention of several hundred pedestrians.

He glared at me and sputtered. "You asshole," he said, but his eyes were starting to sparkle, his head shaking from side to side. "You always get your way, don't you."

"I try," I said, grinning at him.

"Let's try shopping," he said as he put his arm around me. "I feel like spending all those millions I don't need!"

And shop we did, with a vengeance. We resembled beasts of burden with all the packages before we were through. We joked around a lot, shocking more than one clerk, and I actually enjoyed it.

"OK, I'll admit you took me by surprise today," he said as we sat with our drinks, "and I can't get out of it gracefully, so, tell me what I'm involved in."

"Real simple," I said. "We start a new company to do this. Annie and Tina each get 20%, and you and I each get 30%."

"Whoa, you said 25%."

"I changed my mind," I said, grinning at him.

"Oh hell, I give up! How's it work?"

"Now hear me out on this," I asked. "I've given this a little thought, but I'm just going to think out loud. OK?"

He nodded.

"We set it up as Lundborg/Rush, Inc. or something like that, capitalized at, maybe, a million.

"It'll be run totally separate from Metalco, but we'll use them to set the thing up. We'll owe them for that, and they'll bill us at cost. We'll even pay rent for the Metalco building we'll be using for a while.

"We'll need working capital for payroll, supplies and other expenses. We'll borrow that.

"We'll also have to borrow money to pay for the new equipment we're getting, or Metalco can buy it and we'll pay them off at some later date.

"We'll need an office and small staff, and, after the bugs get worked out, we'll need sales people to sell our excess capacity. If that works out, we can expand.

"If Mike's estimate turns out to be true, and I'm confident it will, we'll be showing a gross profit of over $2.00 per unit. We won't hit that for a while, but when we do, that'll be four million a month from Micron alone, and if we use our full capacity, six million a month, or 72 million a year.

"Take off 25% for taxes, and that leaves 54 million a year net."

Eric groaned. "How do you come up with all those numbers in your head? You've got MY head spinning!"

"Takes practice, my dear," I grinned at him. "Actually, I think those numbers are real conservative. If we do a good job for Micron, and do a lot of hustling, I think we can double them in less than two years.

"You know I'll never take Metalco public, but there's no reason why we couldn't do that with Lundborg/Rush. It's hi-tech, and would be one of the few making money at the time of an IPO. With our names on it, it'd be the hottest IPO to hit the street.

"Even using the conservative estimate of 54 million a year net, and a price/earnings multiple of 40, which is awfully low, the company would have a market value of over two billion.

"Between the four of us, we could sell off 20% at the IPO, and have a little pocket change, like 400 million or so. What do you think?"

He was sitting there shaking his head. "I think I know why you're one of the world's richest men. You simply amaze me." He pondered a minute then asked "What happens if Micron drops us at the end of ten years?"

"I doubt that that'll happen. We'll do such a good job for them, cheaper than they can do it themselves, that they won't want to change. But, if they do, by then, we won't need them.

"Here's another idea, though. When our option on the equipment comes up in two years, I think that instead of paying them cash, we could trade 5 or 10% of our stock for it. That would give them a vested interest, and they'd never leave us. In fact, it might be a good idea to do that up front. Offer them cash 'or' stock."

"You blow me away," he said taking me in his arms.

"I'll do that in an hour or two."

"Don't you ever stop thinking about sex you pervert?" he giggled.

"How about YOU, sweetie? How come you've got a stiff dick right now?" I said giving him a good grope.

"Hadn't noticed, guess I do. Must be that 'power' thing again." He was silent for a minute, then asked "Do you really think this could happen?"

"I'm confident that it can and will," I told him.

We had a very, very late dinner.

There was no point waiting around New York over the weekend, and we were both anxious to get things started on our new project.

We got home in the early afternoon and were no sooner in the door than Tina, looking awful, rushed into my arms. "Daddy, I slipped."

To be continued.

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