Chapter Five
The former governor of California, Michael Martin, the newly-elected Vice President of the United States, and his wife, the still-lovely Elsbeth Martin, were the ultimate symbol of power in California. The Silicon Valley millionaires, the movie studio moguls, the winery owners and the actors and entertainment big-shots and television personalities and even the two senators and the current Speaker of the House of Representatives, all wished they had the political, cultural, and media power of the Martins.
As a consequence, the Beverly Wilshire hotel was over-run with paparazzi, Secret Service, federal marshals, Los Angeles County deputies and LAPD officers in and out of uniform and national network talking-heads. Carlos and Chris could not park in the hotel underground parking lot; it was closed to everyone except those allowed by the Secret Service. They parked a block north on a small side street and walked back to the hotel.
After showing appropriate identification, Chris and Carlos were immediately surrounded by Secret Service and shown into the main lobby of the hotel, facing Wilshire Boulevard. The Martins were in an adjoining dining room, holding court; the Governor was answering questions from a commentator from MSNBC while Elsbeth did her best to remain in character as the leading lady with no dialogue lines.
Chris waved to his mother; she merely nodded to acknowledge him, without distracting the live television interview. Chris and Carlos sat together on a narrow bench outside the dining room, waiting for the interview to conclude. In another five minutes, Elsbeth came out and reached her arms toward Chris, who stood to grab his mother and hug her. They looked normal and lovely, like they belonged together; they appeared to understand and cherish each other and benefit from their close relationship.
When the vice-president-elect came out of the interview, he grabbed Chris and gave him a brief man-hug, one of those sideways hugs that did not commit much flesh to be touched together, and the feeling was the opposite of the embrace Chris gave his mother.
Lots of water under that bridge, Carlos realized.
Chris introduced Carlos, using his name only, no title like my boyfriend' or my attorney' or any other information. He left it up to the imagination of his parents. Together the four returned to the small dining room where the interview had taken place; a table had been prepared for them. There was no one else in the room except the camera crew retrieving their equipment, and a couple waiters standing to one side waiting for the Martins.
Carlos was nervous; this was unusual for him, he was rarely nervous around people, including people of power or authority. His business had taken him all over the world, and he had met all sorts of men and women in business settings, and had never felt uncomfortable, had always accommodated the needs of the moment and the context. Carlos had never felt as if he were superior to anyone, he just felt at home in most environments.
Mike Martin looked at Carlos and asked how long he had been in the United States. In any other context, it would have been an insulting question.
"Forever" Carlos answered with a smile. "I was born right here in Los Angeles" Carlos continued.
Chris' father stared at Carlos, and then half-smiled. The four sat at the table, and waiters came to pour water and wine and serve salads, and Chris' mother tried to rescue the moment with chatter about the clutter in moving from one home to another, so many miles away, so much unexpected detail, the constant security, the constant Secret Service and the constant paparazzi.
Carlos realized she was trying to smooth over an awkward beginning to the conversation and decided to push things along; he wanted Chris to be comfortable, but apparently that was not going to happen without a struggle. Carlos asked Elsbeth about their housing in Washington, DC; she responded that those decisions were out of her hands, the vice-president was assigned to live in a place known as the US Navy Observatory, a house built in 1893.
She did not know anything else about the house, she said, but was eager to give it her personal touch; Carlos realized that he had just met a very independent woman who was consigned to a narrow role she found uncomfortable. However, Elsbeth had years of practice at being the prop standing at the side of the man in the spotlight; she did not create drama and rarely accommodated it.
Carlos thought it would have been nice to get to know her under other circumstances.
Chris and his father traded banter through the dinner, with little of substance being said by either of them. Mostly, Mike Martin dominated the conversation, asking very few questions and spending a lot of time bragging about the campaign, the victory, the new president with whom he would be working for the first time, and the direction that things were heading. Evidently the direction that things were heading was out of his hands, and he was not happy about either of those prospects, and it came out, he was not appreciative of being the vice-president, especially to a woman who he did not know well.
Within two hours, Chris and Carlos made their exit; the dinner had been interrupted several times by Secret Service as well as staff who wanted Mike's attention. He finally excused himself, and Elsbeth and Chris stood and chatted for a brief moment and kissed goodbye. She shook hands with Carlos, and then gave him a brief hug.
The walk back to Carlos' car was silent; once they were driving east along Wilshire Boulevard, Carlos volunteered "Well that was interesting."
"No, it was painful" Chris countered.
"I'm sorry, I could tell you were not enjoying it, but I did not know what to do for you" Carlos replied.
"Not your fault. Just a lot of years of bullshit with the man and it will probably not change any time soon" Chris explained.
"OK, I want to hear about all of that, and I want to see if we can figure out a way for that to change at some time, but not tonight. Tonight, I just want to relax, and see you relax, and de-compress after that experience." Carlos was surprised at how solicitous he was being; it was important to him to make sure Chris was comfortable.
"I will be OK; it will take some time. I will explain it all to you some day, not tonight, I just want to get to bed and sleep this off" Chris explained.
Carlos could see that Chris was carrying some heavy baggage. They drove along eastward and then north into Glendale, to Chris' home.
Carlos was reluctant to let him go, wanting to hold him and comfort him and let Chris disburden himself from the events of the stress-filled evening at the Beverly Wilshire with his parents. But, Chris got out of Carlos' car when they had stopped in his driveway, after a quick and not very happy kiss, and promised to call Carlos the next day.
Carlos watched while Chris went to the front door and unlocked it and let himself in, and then after the interior lights came on, Carlos reluctantly drove home to Pasadena.
He was still contemplating the night's events the next morning when he entered the reception area of his office; the receptionist, the same woman who had heard him whistling, was reading the morning edition of the Los Angeles Times. The visit by the vice-president had made the front page; photos followed on page 6 inside, with one which included Chris, Carlos, and Elsbeth.
She greeted Carlos and held up the newspaper and showed him the photo; he was shocked and disturbed, not by the photo but by the accompanying caption: "Vice President's son and boyfriend with Mrs. Martin".
Shit shit shit. Madre de Dios. He marched into his office suite, and then sat for a long moment trying to decide how to react. This was not Chris' fault; it was actually something that Carlos should have expected.
Mike Martin was famous, especially in California, and for the largest newspaper in the state to have a cover story and photos was normal business for them. Too bad if it infringed on Carlos' well-guarded privacy.
While he was thinking about all of that, his desk phone rang; it was the receptionist who told him that Dr. Martin was on the line.
"Good morning sunshine; I hope you got some sleep" was the best opening line Carlos could think of at the moment.
"Thank you, but no, I did not. And I hate Ambien so without any sleeping pills to rely on I just tossed and turned all night."
"I'm sorry" Carlos murmured.
"Look, I called to apologize for last night, and everything, and I want to make it up to you somehow" Chris went on.
"No need, except, a question: did you see this morning's LA Times?"
"Yes. That's why I am calling. It looks like they already crowned us as a couple" Chris said. He was not trying to be humorous; in fact he sounded angry.
"Does that upset you?" Carlos asked.
"Yes. No. Maybe. Shit, I don't know." Then, Chris was silent.
Carlos took a moment to allow the silence to blanket them, then he said "Chris, look, I'm OK, but if this is going too fast for you, then of course, whatever you decide is..."
Chris cut him off. "No. It's not too fast. I love you damn it, but it's none of the goddamn newspaper's business."
Carlos gasped; there it was, out in the open.
"I love you too. Maybe this is a good thing."
Chris remained silent after Carlos' admission. Then he said "I owe you a lot. Can I see you today sometime? I'm free after 2PM."
"OK. Put on your hiking shoes, let's take a walk up through Griffith Park. I will pick you up."
It was slightly past 3PM when Chris was seated in Carlos' Maserati Quattro Porte; they kissed briefly and Carlos headed north and west uphill into the park.
Not talking for several minutes, Chris followed Carlos' lead up a trail along the equestrian riding path until they were in dense forest. After about a half hour, Carlos stopped and handed Chris a water bottle; they both sat on a bench and stretched tired legs.
Finally, Chris broke the silence. "First," he said, "I'm really sorry that shit happened. I knew it was going to at sometime, but I was not ready for it just yet, and I'm sure you were not ready for it to happen ever."
Carlos smiled and said "It's OK."
"No, it's not. I'm pissed. But I will get over it, I just want to make sure you can recover."
"I'm a big boy, don't worry about me."
Chris grabbed Carlos' crotch and said "Yes you are!"
They both laughed, which greatly relieved the stressful atmosphere which had followed them up the mountain.
Continuing, Chris said "Let me explain. I was a rotten kid. I hated that my Dad was in politics, and I hated that his public "face" always required that my sisters and I had to be "perfect" for the media. Then when I realized I was gay and I had to keep that secret from everybody, that made my life Hell. I was angry at him, at the media, and God and everybody. So I did some stupid stuff and got into some trouble and finally, after the help of some really wonderful friends like Stuart and Raj, got through it, and here I am today. And today, thank God, thank God, I am sitting here with you by my side."
"Well that was a long explanation. Do you want to know what I think?" Carlos asked.
"Sure."
And then Carlos kissed him; a long, slow, warm, passionate kiss, full of forgiveness, need, wanting, desire, love, promise, and hope.
"Can we do this here?" Chris whispered.
"Why not?" Carlos answered, and kissed him again.
And then Carlos got down on his knees in the soft earth in front of the bench, and Chris gasped: "We can't do that, I am sure."
Carlos laughed; "We can do that at my house."
And then he said "Chris Martin, Dr. Martin, I have never been in love, but you have done something to my heart, you have brought something into my life, which I have never experienced before and do not know how to repay you except to love you with all of my being, so please just promise me that you will give me a chance to love you, and I promise to spend the rest of my life making sure that you are happy."
They stood and walked on up further into the woods, and near the top of the small mountain, kissed again, and holding each other, hugging, embracing, arms around each other, crotches mashed into each other, kissed even more. They walked down the mountain in silence, a companionable and peaceful silence, just the sounds of nature surrounding them, far from the barking grinding sounds of the city.
And that night they made love; long, luxurious, slow, warm, messy, cum-covered, promise-filled love.
Chris was a talented lover and was thrilled to have his ass-hole filled by the large Venezuelan cock which stretched him and was part pain and many parts pleasure; he moaned and squirmed and thrashed as Carlos filled his ass with the cock that Chris knew now belonged to him alone.
They did it doggy-style, with Carlos kneeling behind Chris and grabbing his hips and pulling him back into Carlos' crotch, slamming his cock into the hole he was filling. They did it with Carlos standing at the end of the bed, with Chris' legs spread apart and Carlos spearing his hole. They did it with Chris riding Carlos' cock, kneeling over Carlos and facing him and finally cumming on his chest, shooting out gobs of hot cum and moaning and shouting.
And then they showered, and they fucked again in the shower, with Carlos taking Chris' cock into his own ass, until the water turned cold. Shivering, they both came at the same time, and cum ran down Carlos' legs from his quivering hole.
They returned to the bed and held each other for a long while; rolling away from holding Chris, Carlos was falling asleep, and Chris grabbed Carlos hand and said softly "Don't let go of me."
They slept in that position for another hour or so, and in the dim light of the very early morning Carlos' erection found its way into Chris' hole again, slipping in easily, slowing pushing its way all the way home. It was several minutes before Carlos realized he was cumming; he found himself pounding into Chris, driving his cock deeper into the territory he now claimed.
Gasping with his own need, Chris rolled Carlos onto his opposite side, and returned the favor; he found Carlos' warm hole, and shoved his own hard cock into him, and within seven minutes exactly, was filling Carlos' hole with a load of hot cum.
A few minutes later, Carlos asked in a very sleepy voice "What day is this?"
"Fuck day" Chris laughed.
"OK with me, but I might have to go into the office for a while" Carlos responded. He slept again for about a half hour, and then reluctantly got out of bed and into the shower again.
Walking into his office, the receptionist stared at him: he smiled at her and said nothing, merely strolling toward his suite. The senior partner came in a moment later; "Something new in your life?" He smiled.
Carlos replied "Yes sir, and when the time is right, I will inform everyone."
"Good enough; I just do not expect anything to reflect poorly on the firm."
At that moment, a sudden thought germinated in Carlos' mind: the firm was internationally known, but all of the business done by the engineers and architects other than Carlos was concentrated in Europe and North America. Carlos' work was concentrated in Central and South America and the Caribbean; he travelled frequently to most of the countries south of the Rio Grande but was the sole member of the firm to do so. He decided to ruminate on that idea and discuss it later with Chris.
Just before he exited the parking garage at 3rd and Hope streeets, Carlos called Chris: "Do you recall the conversation we had a few hours ago, when I asked you what day this is?"
"Yes."
"I'm leaving the office; can you meet me?"
"Sure. Where? When?"
"Do you know where the San Antonio Winery is located?"
"Sure. Shall we meet there?"
"Yes. I am on my way; I will wait there for you."
"OK, see you love." Chris rang off and called his answering service and re-scheduled all of his appointments for the rest of the day. For the first time, probably in forever, Chris felt like he was wanted and needed by someone; call it love, call it lust, he was ready for it.
Carlos had a bottle of Chablis in a bucket of ice on the table when Chris arrived: Carlos stood and embraced his lover and took both of his hands, kissed him, and smiled, and said "I have an idea,"
"Oh God." Chris laughed.
"Hear me out; first of all, I love you, and I think that will just keep getting better day by day. Second, I hope you love me too, and so I want you to think about moving into my house with me. I have this giant house with just me rattling around in it, a housekeeper who comes over twice a week, a huge yard, and I want you to consider it your house too. What do you think?"
"Oh my God, maybe, OK, I don't know, let me think."
"OK. While you are thinking about that, I also want your advice on starting my own practice as an architect and engineer." Carlos went on to explain the details of his business to Chris, how he had developed a reputation across the western hemisphere, and how he could expect to expand the business outside of the firm to which he now belonged.
"Fine. Let's do it."
"Huh?"
"Move. Your house. I will move in with you, under one condition."
"What is that?" Carlos asked.
"Will you marry me?" Chris was nervous and on edge; this was big. Huge.
"Yes." Carlos stood and grabbed Chris and hugged him and they kissed; the waiter and waitress and the maître d' all applauded and whistled. Chris and Carlos smiled and laughed and cried; they hugged again and kissed again.