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 33

Edgar's offer wasn't a surprise. The twenty five dollar jump

was. I'd expected a five or ten dollar increase, but not

fifty percent. Good old Edgar had aspirations of being a

player!

We would counter, of course, but the question was how much

and how soon. In my mind, if we went too high too fast, we

would give the impression that we'd counter any offer that

Edgar made and sellers would sit back and wait until one or

the other of us was thoroughly bloodied before committing.

It was time to call in the experts who had more experience

than we did.

I was excited. The battle was on, and Eric picked up on it.

In my opinion, he had developed kind of a ho-hum attitude

toward the whole thing. Maybe it was a mistake to do some of

the things I was without telling him, but I felt he'd think I

was nuts or paranoid, or just plain greedy.

A council of war was convened. Eric and Bill, Jay and Rob

from our PR Department and the H. James bunch from San

Francisco.

Seated around the conference table in my office, I looked

around and had to chuckle to myself. Poor Bill was the only

straight man there.

I also smiled at the irony of having the "James Gang" among

us.

Although as yet unconfirmed, it was rumored that Edgar had put

together a group of backers that included some well known

Corporate raiders.

It was an open discussion covering all aspects of our

position.

We had the advantage in that we needed fewer than two million

more shares to reach our objective, Edgar had to buy almost

seven million to stop us, and he had to do it first.

The James boys gave us a stockholder profile. Railroad

shares were traditionally held in retirement accounts because

they could be depended upon to pay dividends providing

reliable income. "A Widows and Orphans Stock" they were

usually called. CLP's shareholders, all 30,000 of them, fit

this profile. There were a few exceptions, however, and

these were the ones that interested me, ones holding more

than the 400 share average.

Edgar's rumored "partners" were dissected. Their normal modus

operandi was to get in, carve up the company, and sell off

the parts quickly at a modest profit. Quick buck artists who

didn't stick around, and if they couldn't pick up a bargain,

they'd back off. The big question here was what they

considered a "bargain". Even more important was how much

they knew about the "real" value of the company.

Stockholder psychology was discussed. Jay and Rob had a lot

of input here. Deadlines were important, but it was common

knowledge that they could be extended. As long as the

bidding was active, sellers would wait, hoping that it would

go even higher. Only when it appeared that the limit had

been reached, or the bidders dropped out, would they act. It

was a big poker game, really.

We kicked ideas around until we were all worn out, finally

agreeing to wait two weeks, then counter at 85, up ten

dollars. Edgar's reaction would then give us direction on

how to proceed.

I had asked the James gang to bring me the stockholder data,

on disk. They were hesitant to give it to me, explaining

that they were "professionals" and could handle everything.

What they didn't say was that they didn't want me, a rank

amateur, out there screwing up the works. Reluctantly, they

handed it over.

Throughout the meeting, I had contributed little, and Eric

even less. This was new territory, and I guess we both

wanted to hear what the "experts" had to say.

Annie had drawn a blank on her Title searches. Every parcel

checked had come up clean. That, however, wasn't her

interest at the moment. We had finally cracked the Railroad

computers and had a ton more data to process.

The first opportunity I had, I worked on the Stockholder file

the James gang had given to me. It was in database format,

and I was delighted to find a field that showed the number of

shares held by each owner. I ran a total. It came up

30,920,300. That didn't seem right, so I made a quick

check. It was exactly 500,000 shares less than were supposed

to be outstanding. Why?

I got hold of Annie and asked her to have the "whiz" give

that file priority. I wanted to see if they had the same

numbers. In a hurry.

Evidently it was an easy one for him to translate because she

was back to me in hours with the same number.

Since I had an "Official Copy", I could ask questions, and I

did.

When I confronted the James gang with my findings, they were

flabbergasted. They promised to look into it "as soon as

they could".

That wasn't good enough. "Listen, my friend," I told him,

"You're running this offer for me, and I think we'd both

better know what the hell's going on. Get me an answer and

get it to me by tomorrow."

"But we won't have time," he answered.

Calmly, I asked, "Can you put Mr. James on the phone?"

"I'm sorry he can't be disturbed."

"You'd better disturb him, or somebody else's going to be

handling this thing before morning."

"Just a minute, Sir."

James came on. "Is there a problem, Mr. Rush?"

I calmly explained what I'd found, and told him that I didn't

appreciate being treated in such cavalier fashion.

He merely murmured, which really pissed me off.

"Listen, James, I realize that this is only a two and a half

billion dollar deal, and if that isn't big enough to get some

attention, I can sure as hell take it elsewhere."

"Please don't threaten me, Mr. Rush."

"I'll do whatever it takes to get some action," I told him.

"Raising your voice won't help."

"What will?" I asked.

"Just be reasonable, we'll work on it as soon as we can get

to it."

"And when will that be?"

"We should have an answer in a few days," he said.

"Not good enough," I told him. "You're fired."

"But we have an agreement," he whined.

"You're incompetent, so sue me. Have everything ready to be

picked up by ten o'clock tomorrow morning."

"It'll be ready, and you'll be hearing from my attorneys."

I hung up, fuming.

I grabbed the phone again and called Steve.

"How fast can your people take over our Tender Offer?" I

asked.

"I thought you'd never ask!" he answered.

"Come on, Steve, be serious. I need help and I need it fast."

"What happened?"

"Those fags at H. James gave me the runaround, so I fired

their asses," I told him.

"We've got real men around here," he told me in his best

baritone. "Consider your butt covered. All that stuff is

handled out of our New York office, but I'll have some good

men here tomorrow to take over."

"Thanks, Steve," and I truly meant it.

When I told Eric what I'd done and why, he totally agreed.

With that glint in his eye, he purred "Ummmm, that power

thing again, wait'll tonight!"

With a change like this occurring in the middle of a major

battle for a public company, the press had to be notified,

and was. It was a definite black eye for H. James.

Steve's firm, Peabody-Durer, always shortened to "PD" or just

plain "Peabody", wasn't the largest brokerage house on Wall

Street, but was one of the most respected.

The three men who came from New York were vastly different

from the "James gang". Serious but communicative, explaining

everything that had been done, what they would be doing, and

what needed to be done next.

Thinking that this would be an excellent opportunity for Eric

to learn more about the intracacies of a Public acquisition,

I urged him to sit in on everything. Most of the time,

though, he begged off, using some problem at Lundborg Rush as

an excuse. I was disappointed but so involved myself that I

didn't give it much thought.

It was agreed that the counter offer we had planned was a

good idea and the timing was right. Not too eager, and still

soon enough to maintain everyone's attention.

The issue of the missing half million shares had been settled

in hours. It was Treasury stock that the Railroad had

purchased on the open market for unspecified purposes. Since

it was controlled by management, namely Edgar, we had to

consider it lost. At least it was accounted for.

Annie and I went back to our "project". As I expected, the

Railroad owned land under different names too. There weren't

too many parcels involved, and they were all either in San

Francisco or Orange Counties.

We decided not to have them appraised, but Annie did have

title searches run on a sampling. Here's where we struck pay

dirt.

Annie couldn't understand why I was so delighted to find

something that she considered negative. Thankfully, she just

shrugged her shoulders and went ahead with searches on all

the San Francisco and Orange County properties.

In total, there were six properties with loans on them. We

obtained full title reports which included the loan

agreements on them. When Annie looked them over, she still

didn't understand my elation.

I'd talked with John Bussey a couple of times, but he had

been rather non-commital on the phone, saying he'd tell me

anything "good" in person. He took secrecy seriously.

I made another "quiet" trip to Phoenix.

When I got to his office, I thought I was at the wrong

address. The place was empty. Looking around, I saw John

sitting in a pickup parked in front. He motioned me over

with a big grin.

"That a rental?" he asked, pointing at the car Jason and I

had driven up in. I nodded.

"Can we lose your driver and drive around and talk?"

"Jason stays," I told him. "He's my pilot and you can say

anything you want in front of him."

"If you say so," he agreed. We got in, John in front, me in

back alone.

"We felt it was a good idea to make a few changes," he

grinned over the seat. "Guess I'd better start at the

beginning.

"After you gave us that job, we started hearing rumors. All

of a sudden there was a lot of interest in a couple of pieces

of that Railroad land. A whole LOT of interest. More

surveys were being ordered and the old boys getting the jobs

were snickerin' and haulin' in the cash.

"Now understand, me and my boys do a lot of listenin' but

don't do much talkin', least not about what we're doing."

At this point the country bumpkin routine was dropped and the

polished college graduate took over.

"Mr. Rush, I did my research too. I know a lot more about

you than I did, and I understand what you're doing. When the

dust settles, I think I want to be on your side.

"Right now your competitors, I believe, are concentrating on

two pieces of ground that virtually everybody knows contain

valuable ore. We'd like to keep their attention focused

right there. You know about the other properties the

Railroad owns, and now, so do we. We want to keep it that

way, so we moved our office somewhere else. Where isn't

important, what we learn is, and the office is fully secure,

I assure you. We're acting like we don't have anything to

do, and cutting back, and my boys are spending more time at

the local hangouts with their ears open."

"What are you finding?" I asked.

"The USGS maps are only an indication of what may lie beneath

the surface, but the combination of minerals in some of these

deposits is more than encouraging. The only way we can prove

our educated guesses is to do core sampling and a lot of

other on-site testing. Now is not the time to even consider

doing that."

"All I'm interested in, at this point, is whether or not

there's a reasonable possibility of some value there," I told

him.

"It would be impossible to put a dollar value on what we've

found so far, but there are so many occurrences of favorable

conditions on that land that I can say that there's a hell of

a lot of money down there."

"That's what I wanted to hear," I told him. "It gives me the

ammunition I need. Keep at it. We'll stay in touch."

We dropped him back at his pickup.

When our counter offer of $85 was announced, there was a

slight flurry of activity. Quite a few shares were tendered,

but still nowhere near enough.

Within days, Edgar's group came back at $90 per share. This

surprised me. I had kind of expected them to try for a

knockout, $100 at least.

We waited a week, then offered $100 per share. There was no

quick response from Edgar this time.

A few days after the hundred-dollar offer was announced, I

got the call I had been expecting and dreading.

Mike Burdette was cheerful as hell. "I think you've got it,"

he said. "It would really surprise me if Edgar is a big

enough fool to go any higher."

We talked a bit more, then he did as expected. "How about

coming up here in the next few days and we do a little horse

trading," he suggested.

"I can be there in the morning," I told him. Might as well

get it over with.

That night, Eric was more attuned to my mood than he had been

in several weeks.

"Want to talk about it?" he asked.

"Not really," I told him. "I have some unpleasant business

to take care of tomorrow, and I just want to get it over

with."

He snuggled up and with the right poking and prodding got my

mind completely away from everything - but him!

I went prepared. Even had a briefcase which was unusual for

me.

Mike was effusive in his greeting, and I settled in front of

his huge desk.

"Where's your partner?" he asked.

"Oh, he's tied up with Lundborg Rush, our software company,"

I told him.

"I didn't know you were in the software business," he said.

"Something new?" He was dallying.

"We started it last year. We produce all of Micron's

software now, and have picked up a few other fair sized

accounts. It's growing."

He changed the subject. "I guess congratulations are in

order. Looks like you bought yourself a Railroad."

"It's not a done deal yet," I told him. "We're getting

close, but it isn't over yet."

"I'm pretty sure it is. If they go any higher, Edgar's 'fast

buck' partners couldn't make their money and run. Have you

decided what you're going to do with the railroad itself?"

Here it comes, I thought to myself. "We'll probably just

hang on to it for a while, then, after we've restructured

everything, sell it off."

"I can save you a lot of trouble," he offered. "I'll take it

off your hands as soon as you take over. I'll trade you my

CLP stock for it, and throw in my shares of the Development

Company. That'd be about seven hundred million you wouldn't

have to shell out, and I'd assume the debt they have, too."

"Adds up to over a billion," I said. "Tempting."

"Helluva deal for you," he said, trying not to be too eager.

"I don't think so, Mike. Not interested."

"Why not?"

"I know what the Railroad's worth," I said simply.

"You won't even consider it?" He was becoming desperate.

"No, I'm afraid not."

He thought a minute. "That may cause me to reconsider

selling out to you," he said.

"I don't think you'd do that," I said.

"That Option Agreement I gave you has an escape clause."

"I know, Mike, but I don't think you're going to use it," I

told him quietly, reaching into my briefcase.

I took out the six loan agreements and put them on his desk.

He glanced at them, then up at me, then leafed through all of

them.

The small pile of paper showed that six loans totaling eighty

million dollars had been granted to Mike Burdette using

Railroad owned property as collateral.

It was pure fraud and the implications were enormous.

"I'm going to give you an 'out', Mike," I told him softly.

He just stared at me.

"When I get control of the Company and you get paid for your

stock, you're going to pay off those loans, and that will be

the end of it. You'll end up with over a half billion

dollars - and, your reputation."

"How many people know about this?" he asked.

"Enough," I told him. "Don't get any ideas."

He folded. It wasn't a pretty sight.

"I have a new Option Agreement here that I want signed and

notarized," I continued.

"How do I know you'll keep your end of the bargain?"

"You'll just have to take my word on it. I don't think you'd

want it in writing, and I think you'd have a hard time

enforcing anything that was written, anyway."

That night, Eric announced that he and Warren were leaving

for New York the following morning to work out details of the

new software rollout with Micron.

I wasn't particularly pleased with the timing. Here we were,

about to close our biggest purchase ever, and he was running

off.

Although he hadn't taken a very active part in the deal, he

was still very much involved. I was hurt more than anything

else.

They left, and I tried not to think about it, digging into

work to keep my mind occupied.

That took care of the daytime hours, nights were another

story. It had been several months since Eric had gone to New

York alone. Coming home to an empty house was bad enough,

but knowing he wouldn't be there at all was really difficult.

The kids weren't home either. They had their own lives, and I

couldn't expect them to babysit me.

I tried not to dwell on him, thinking about the fun we'd have

with all the the upcoming challenges - developing the lands

we would soon own and maybe getting into the mining business,

something entirely new.

This worked for a few nights, then I could no longer hold off

thinking about Eric. I had to admit that I was really pretty

pissed at him for abandoning me at a time like this. We were

in this thing together. Or were we?

In the very beginning, his enthusiasm had matched mine. CLP

was an opportunity of a lifetime, we had agreed. From that

point on, in retrospect, his interest had waned. He'd

avoided Henry's presentation, and since our "family meeting",

hadn't shown much interest at all.

He'd been there, in San Francisco, but more as a spectator

than a participant. Since then, he'd pretty much distanced

himself from the whole thing, devoting all of his time and

energy to Lundborg Rush.

How had this slipped by me? Was I so obsessed with this

project that I was ignoring him, or even worse, taking him

for granted?

On the surface, everything between us had seemed to be going

along fine. We made love on a regular basis, missing a night

here and there, but that wasn't anything new. Our busy lives

just seemed to flow along.

There HAD been some subtle changes, I realized. The

"oneness" that we'd developed, thinking and acting alike

unconsciously wasn't there anymore. We'd drifted in

different directions, and I didn't understand why.

We talked on the phone every day as we always had when one of

us was out of town, but I realized that it was now only one

call a day, and that I did most of the talking.

He'd been gone more than a week when the bomb dropped.

Warren called me. "Is Eric over there?" he asked.

"I thought you guys were still in New York," I answered,

puzzled.

"Maybe Eric is, but I got home a week ago," he told me.

"Guess he forgot to tell me," I said, trying to make light of

the situation. "I'll have him call you."

I called the penthouse. No answer.

Next, I called flight operations and told them to get a plane

ready, I was on my way.

I called the penthouse again and left a message on the

machine that I was on my way.

My mind was racing. Questions, questions, questions.

Soon after we reached cruising altitude and leveled off,

Jason came back from the cockpit. He took a seat opposite

me. "You OK, boss?" he asked.

"I honestly don't know," I told him.

"Is Eric OK?"

"That I don't know, either."

"If you feel like talking, you know where to find me," he

said. "I'll have a car waiting for you." He stood and then

bent over to put his arm around me and gave me a squeeze.

It was the longest goddam flight I'd ever been on. Painful,

too, I had time to think.

The first thing to cross my mind was that Eric had found

somebody else. An image of the guy with the "eyes" crossed

my mind. No, I reasoned, that wasn't it. Eric wasn't

capable of deception. Or was he? My insecurities mounted.

What else could it be? Was I doing the wrong thing by

running to New York? The thought of walking into the

penthouse and finding him with someone else made me

physically ill. I made a mad dash for the head and barely

made it before puking my guts out.

Exhausted, drained, with tears streaming, I got back to my

seat. The tears didn't stop.

How could this be happening? What had I done wrong? Was I

inadequate? In what way? The unanswered questions were

driving me crazy.

In my mind, it was all over. I'd lost him. How would I live

without him, the man who was my whole life? The tears were

now for me.

Then fear set in. What would I find when I got there?

Should I go? Could I face the rejection that I'd convinced

myself that I'd almost certainly be faced with?

I had to do it. I had to know.

Jason had been checking on me periodically, just saying

"hello", not asking questions, not prying, but the hug he

gave me every time let me know he cared. This time, he

announced that we were about a half hour away. "Do you want

me to go with you?" he asked softly.

"No, but thanks," I told him. "This is something that I have

to do by myself."

"We'll be at the Airport Hilton. Call me if you need

anything, and I do mean anything."

I used my key card on the elevator, and again at the door.

It was dark inside when I opened it. I called out his name,

quietly, cautiously, at first, then louder when I didn't get

a response.

Still no response, so I went in. Nobody in the living room,

the bedroom door was closed so I knocked first. No response,

and it too was empty.

I checked the den. There he was, sitting on the sofa staring

out the window, totally disheveled with a half empty bottle

of Scotch on the coffee table in front of him along with

several empties. He looked over at me, barely able to

focus. "I've lost you," he slurred. His eyes slowly closed

and he slowly slid over on his side.

I walked over to him. He had passed out. Now, I was totally

confused.

He looked like hell. His hair was matted down, his clothes

looked like they hadn't been changed in days, and he reeked

of booze.

His face was gaunt, his eyes puffy, and while I looked at

him, a tear rolled down his cheek. I lost it. Tears welled

up uncontrollably.

I knelt beside him, putting my arms around him as best I

could, and kissed his forehead.

I held him for a few minutes, tears streaming down my face.

There was nothing I could do or say until he came out of it.

I stood and looked at him. There was a blanket next to him

which I pulled over him, and I slipped a pillow under his

head. I looked around the room. More empty bottles had

rolled under the coffeetable. He had obviously been here for

several days.

What should I do? I had to do something.

I went into the bedroom and took off my coat and tie, then

back to the den. I wanted to lie down on the couch with him

and just hold him. Love him, let him know how much I loved

him. That might not be a good idea, I decided. I'd be there

for him when he woke up.

I took an armload of empty bottles to the kitchen. After

dumping them, I looked around. There was a partially eaten

pizza sitting on the counter. It'd been there for a while

because it was all moldy. There were also two cases of Scotch

sitting there. One unopened, the other almost empty.

I checked the refrigerator. Totally empty.

I got another load of bottles, including the half empty one

and took them out. He'd need food, I decided, so went down

to the lobby to see the Concierge.

When I asked the young lady manning the desk for directions

to the nearest market, she looked at me as if I'd lost my

mind.

"I can have anything you want delivered in a matter of

minutes, Mr. Rush," she told me. "I also have a list of

restaurants that will deliver almost as fast. Just call down

your order and I'll take care of everything."

She gave me a card, and I returned upstairs.

I certainly had no appetite, but Eric needed to eat something.

I's wait until he surfaced.

I sat in a chair across from him looking out the window,

waiting and thinking.

I heard him move and looked over. He was staring at me, his

eyes blazing.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he yelled, furious.

"I love you, Eric," I said softly. "I need you."

"No you don't," he spat out. "All you care about is the

almighty fucking dollar."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "You can't believe

that," I said.

"You're fucking obsessed," he spat out, quietly sobbing.

I rose to go over to him. "Stay the fuck away," he

screamed. "What'd you do with my booze, asshole? I need a

drink."

"Please don't," I pleaded.

He tried to rise but fell back, too weak to get up. "I NEED

a drink, or don't you understand?" he groaned.

"I'll get you one," I said.

"You call that a drink?" he said when I handed him a half

full glass which he tossed down like it was nothing. He was

shaking like a leaf.

"I did get you the one thing you're interested in. The stock

you need is over there on the desk. Call it my good-bye

present," he said, his voice full of derision.

"How can you say that?" I asked. "You know I love you."

"You love money more, and I can't compete."

"That's bullshit and you know it."

"I'm not going to be your 'boy-toy' waiting around for a

little attention between the big deals you're pulling off. I

need a helluva lot more than just the crumbs." He was

sobbing again.

"Is that the way you see it? I thought you were in it with

me."

"You shut me out. I wasn't qualified to handle a Public

deal, and you just shut me out. I'm not good enough for you

any more."

I realized, at that point, that I wasn't the only one with

feelings of inadequacy. In a way, he was right. We had

brought in outsiders, but I had thought that he agreed with

that decision.

"I thought we were in agreement on that," I told him. "We

needed help and we got it. I thought you were OK with that."

"I wanted to help, but there wasn't any place for me. You've

got it, now," he said pointing toward the desk. "Go ahead

and spend the next ten years developing it. You'll be so

busy you won't even notice I'm gone."

"Eric," I said, looking him straight in the eye, "I can't live

without you. I'll drop the whole thing if that'll make you

happy."

"Don't talk like a fool. I know you better than that."

"What can I do, then?"

"Include me," he begged. "Don't shove me off somewhere like

Lundborg Rush. I want to be with you."

"Oh my God, did you think that's what I was doing?"

"That's what it seemed like, to me."

"Why didn't you say something?"

"I thought you wanted me out of the way," he sobbed.

"You're so wrong," I said as I sat beside him, taking him in

my arms. "How could we have misunderstood each other like

that?"

He seemed so frail in my arms. He'd lost a lot of weight. I

wanted to hold him, protect him, and make him happy for the

rest of our lives.

We talked and talked, trying to understand how we had so

terribly misread each other. He had been miserable and I had

been oblivious, totally insensitive to what was happening.

Silences were comfortable again, his head on my shoulder.

"Are you up for something to eat?" I asked him.

"I need to, but nothing sounds good."

I suggested a few things, and we finally agreed on soup for

him, and something else for me. "What I really need is a

shower and some sleep," he admitted. "A nice bed would be

kind of nice, too. As mad as I was at you, I couldn't sleep

in there without you."

After we'd eaten, I helped him to the shower. He was weak as

a kitten and I had to hold him steady while we both lathered

up.

We slept like babies, wrapped in each other's arms. Our

first real fight was over.

I'd totally forgotten about the stock he'd mentioned until he

brought it up over breakfast. "Better let them know you've

got solid control," he told me. "Put an end to this insane

poker game."

"Do you really have them?" I asked.

"1,200,000 shares. Offers all signed legal and proper," he

beamed.

"That puts US, and I do mean us, over the top with room to

spare. How in hell did you do it?"

"I'm afraid I snooped into your stockholder database," he

admitted. "I saw Sarah's name, and quite a few other New

Yorkers at the head of the list, the ones with fairly large

holdings. I got in touch with Sarah. She didn't know

anything about it, said her mail on those matters went to her

Attorney.

"Of course, she agreed to sell her shares, and when I

mentioned a few other names, she knew them and got them to go

along. I picked up the paperwork from her when I got here,

but I was still so damned mad at you, I wasn't ready to give

them to you then."

"Are you sure you still want me to go through with it?" I

asked him.

"Hell yes! Just promise me you won't spend all your time on

it, and that you'll let me help."

"Deal," I said. "Before we go any further, there are a few

other things that you need to know about."

"Such as?"

"There are a few things I've done that nobody knows about.

Remember my mentioning that the Railroad owned a lot of land?"

"Yeah, you mentioned it."

"I did a little preliminary checking, and it's possible that

that land is worth more than everything else. Ready to go

into the mining business?"

"Oh shit! Do I get a mule and a pickaxe?" he chuckled.

"Whatever you want. Might even throw in a cowboy hat," I

told him. "There's more, but we'll go over that later."

When we got back to the penthouse, he wouldn't let up until I

called Peabody. I also called Annie to give her the news.

She'd see that everyone was informed.

It was a beautiful day, sunshine but brisk. We took a walk

through Central Park. A solid week of drinking had taken its

toll on Eric, and we stopped to sit and talk whenever we

found an empty bench. We both had some secrets that needed to

be shared.

I told him about the clandestine operation Annie and I had

set up and what we'd learned. First about the land, then

about Burdette's games.

"What made you think that he was up to something?" he asked.

"It took a while to sink in," I explained. "Something about

his comment about buying the Railroad from us made me wonder,

then when I went back to his option agreement and saw the

escape clause, I knew he was up to something."

"But you didn't find out about the loans until later. What

would you've done if you hadn't had that?"

"Let him have the railroad, I guess."

"Damn, you ARE a poker player! If he had thrown in with

Edgar and those loans came out, I don't think Edgar would

have let him off like you did."

"No doubt about that," I said. "It was to our advantage to

let him off. Why ruin the guy? It would have tied things up

in court for years."

"He'll hate you anyway," Eric said.

"Yes, but he'll do it with a smile," I laughed.

Eric told me about their meetings with Micron. There would

be a lot of changes taking place, most as a result of

suggestions Eric had made.

"They're going to save a lot of money, and it'll be easier

for us. I wasn't too happy about being there, but I sure

have learned a lot about what makes Lundborg Rush work," he

told me.

"How's Warren working out?" I asked.

"He's doing great. He's a quick study and has the background.

I'm pretty sure he's going to take the company places we

never dreamed of."

On our next stop, I told Eric about my trips to Phoenix and

John Bussey. He got a laugh out of all the secrecy.

"What do you think we'll do with it?" he wanted to know.

"I haven't got a clue," I told him. "I know even less about

mining than I do about 'Developing'. First, though, we're

going to have to find out if we've got anything. That's

going to take some time."

"It might be interesting to get out there and see what's

going on," he said. "You know I'm a 'Nature Boy' at heart."

Before heading back to the penthouse, we discussed going home

to the West Coast. "I feel like such an ass," he told me.

"Don't, you're not the only one to blame. I get my share,

too."

We decided to spend one more day in New York. Eric wanted to

have dinner with Sarah so we could both properly thank her

for what she'd done for us.

Eric was more familiar with the concierge's service and

ordered our dinner. I watched him while he called. The

weight he'd lost really showed.

"Hope you ordered lots," I told him. "We need to put some

meat back on your bones."

"I don't think all the 'meat', as you so crudely put it, is

gone," he said, laughing and rubbing his crotch

suggestively. "At least I don't think so. Haven't had any

reason to check lately."

"That's something I definitely want to check out later," I

leered back.

He was intact, and harder than I'd ever felt him get. I had

barely slipped the head into my mouth when he came.

Violently and copiously. So much, in fact, that I couldn't

begin to swallow fast enough.

"See what you do to me," he said as he kissed me. "Do you

really think I could ever give that up?"

"I sincerely hope not, but that sure wasn't much fun for me.

I demand seconds!"

"You'll get 'em."

I wasn't quite as fast out of the gate, but it sure didn't

take long.

"Seconds" consisted of having his cock deeply inserted in my

butt for the rest of the night, or at least, a major portion

of it. We were joined for hours, and when we finally did

allow ourselves to orgasm, it was sweet, together and shared

by both of us.

We were major news in the morning paper. The Times' business

section had a large article with my 20 year old picture and a

graduation picture of Eric.

The way the article described how we'd outbid the "Raiders",

sounded like we were the guys in white hats riding to the

rescue. Then, it went on to speculate "why" we had bought

it. "Could it possibly be to get at CLP Development and

unlock all that undeveloped land?"

Short biographies of both of us followed, ending with "Wonder

what this pair will try next?"

This was the kind of publicity I could live with. Nothing

personal.

"Christ," Eric bitched. "If they were going to steal one of

my graduation pictures, they could at least have gotten a

good one."

"It's not the best one, but you still look gorgeous."

"You're just saying that so I'll let you get in my pants," he

teased.

We talked about how we were going to arrange things once we

got back to the West coast. I wanted him close to me, and he

wanted a separate office so he wouldn't have to put up with

the constant chaos that surrounded me. Somehow, we would

find him a space on the 30th floor.

Then, we planned our attack for the following week.

"I think we'd better add another section to those new offices

we're building," I suggested.

"I was just thinking the same thing! We're back in sync,

thank God."

We thought business discussion was over for the day. Sarah

had other ideas, however.

Eric had made arrangements to take her to Chef Maurice's

hotel where we were given the royal treatment.

When we were seated, Sarah sighed, "Here I am again with the

two most eligible, not to mention handsome and rich, men in

the country. All my friends are dying to meet you, and if

you'd stay around town long enough, we could fatten you up

with huge dinner parties and bore you to tears."

"You make it sound sooooo inviting," Eric chuckled.

"Give me a chance, my dear, and I'll prove it," she cooed,

then abruptly changed the subject. "I guess congratulations

are in order, hear you boys bought yourselves a Railroad.

Now, what in God's name are you going to do with it?"

Eric enthusiastically jumped in. I smiled from ear to ear.

This is what I'd hoped for.

"Originally, we weren't really interested in the Railroad

itself, we had our eye on a company they control, CLP

Development. We thought the real value was there because the

Development Company owns a huge amount of undeveloped land in

prime areas."

"Then what happened?" she asked.

"Dave had a hunch and did some digging. Seems the Railroad

owns a lot of land too. Not good for development, but it

very well may have minerals on it worth even more than the

Development Company's land."

"Sounds to me like you boys have a lot of work ahead of you,"

she said.

"We delegate!" Eric told her, laughing.

"Sarah," I told her seriously, "We wouldn't have been able to

do this without your help, and I want you to know how

grateful we both are. Thank you."

"You're both welcome," she said. "It's just some more money

that I'll have to get busy and give away."

"I don't know how much you travel," I said, "but you're never

going to fly in a commercial airliner again. We have a

couple of small jets now, and are getting another in a couple

of months. From now on, they're at your disposal whenever

you want to go anyplace."

This was an idea that had just popped into my head.

Obviously, I hadn't had a chance to mention it to Eric, but

he jumped right in.

"No terminals to deal with, and you can go whenever YOU want

to go. No schedules," he told her. "The ones we have now

seat six, and the new one will handle twelve, so take your

friends."

"I'll accept, but on one condition," she said. "That is, if

you two will come to my houseparty in France this year."

"We'll be there," I assured her. "By the way, our planes are

long-range and can go anywhere in the world."

At that moment, we were interrupted by a Chef serving our

first course.

"Don't we get to see a menu?" Sarah asked.

"Not when you're with us," Eric told her. "You won't be

disappointed."

When Chef Maurice took his bow, we introduced Sarah as our

"best friend in New York".

After she heaped lavish praise on him, almost to the point of

embarassment, he stood between Eric and me with a hand on

either of our shoulders. "Mrs. Thornton," he told her, "any

friend of these two is a friend of mine."

When we got to the airport, Jason looked both of us over

carefully, then walked over and gave me a hug. He turned and

gave Eric a playful jab in the shoulder.

On board, waiting to take off, Eric turned to me. "Those

guys really love you," he said. "I don't mind. I do too."

To be continued.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I appreciate hearing your comments on the

story, my writing, and anything you would like to offer -

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