Chapter 2 – Chapter 2

"What are those over there?"

"The stables, I think. The path up to the hotel is this way, though. Tom. Tom . . ."

Brother Thomas had veered off the path toward the hotel's stables. Paul had moved a few steps in that direction, but he stopped, unsure of going beyond the circle of light shown from the monsignor's flashlight. Monsignor Scarlotti was a couple of steps beyond the two inebriated friends who had been stumbling up the hill supporting each other, but he stopped and turned back when he heard Paul calling for Tom.

"Tom . . . Tom," Paul called out again.

"Tom tom, beat the little drummer boy," Tom's voice rang out. "I want to see the horses. We don't have nearly enough horses in Georgetown." The voice was coming from a bit of a distance away—uphill toward where Paul could see the line of outbuildings against the moonlit skyline.

"I suppose we must indulge him," Monsignor Scarlotti said, as he passed Paul, following in the direction in which Brother Thomas had gone.

Paul and the monsignor hadn't gone far, though, before they heard a clatter, a yelp, and an expletive. When they came upon Brother Thomas, who was sitting on the path and holding his ankle, they could see that he had found not only the stables but also a pile of rakes and hoes.

"You OK, Tom?" Paul asked, bending down beside his friend.

"It's my ankle, I think."

"Can you put any weight on it?"

"In his present state, I don't think he should even try," the monsignor said brusquely. "You'd better help him into the stables and settle him comfortably, and I'll go on up to the hotel for a first aid kit and a crutch. A resort specializing in outdoor activities for the lazy rich certainly should have a store of crutches about."

When the monsignor had departed, Paul put his arms around Brother Thomas and started to raise him up.

"Don't bother, I can walk fine," Brother Thomas murmured. "I just wanted to be alone with you for a while."

"Alone with—?"

"Don't talk, Paul. It's been too long." Paul still had his arms around Brother Thomas, and the cleric pulled him further into the clutch and took Paul's lips in his. The two were transported down the years into memories of their relationship at the university.

"Oh, god," Paul croaked. "I've been hard for you all evening. I thought you had forgotten."

"Never," Brother Thomas whispered. "I want you. I can't wait until we can work something out up at the hotel."

"Why do we have to wait until we're up at the hotel?" Paul murmured. Still strong after all these years and the larger of the two, Paul scooped the cleric up from the ground and carried him into the stables. Nearly half of the stalls were empty, and there were bales of hay about, so it took no time at all for Paul to find a stall and lower Brother Thomas' belly on a hay bale. With the cleric's insistence for speed, Paul quickly had the cleric's trousers and briefs around the other man's ankles and was tonguing and fingering his ass open.

"Just like old times," Brother Thomas moaned as Paul hovered over his back, positioned his cock—which indeed had been hard for Brother Thomas all evening—and started working his way into the anal passage.

They both panted and emitted uncontrolled animal sounds as Paul thrust with his cock and Brother Thomas thrust back with his buttocks and the horses in the stalls nearby moved restlessly against their stall walls, disturbed by the strange noises coming from nearby.

Spent, Paul rolled off Brother Thomas' back and sat, his back against the stall wall beside the hay stack. Brother Thomas, in turn, lowered himself from the hay and sat with his back against the stack and his legs draped over Paul's. Instinctively, each man reached for the cock of the other and they sat there, overlapped, each slowly stroking the other, and both breathing hard. What had been easy thirty years ago no longer was, for either of them. But they both had managed as if it had only been yesterday that they had actively been lovers.

"I had almost forgotten," Paul whispered after his breathing became more controlled.

"I never did," Brother Thomas answered. "You always were the best."

"Don't let the monsignor hear you say that," Paul said with a little laugh. "And he'll be back soon."

"Not too soon," Brother Thomas said. "I timed the walk from the hotel down to here when we went down into the town. We probably have another half hour before he can get back, walking in the dark and having to find a first aid kit. And their medical office is closed at night. They'll have to find someone to open that to get a crutch."

"You mean to say you planned this?"

"Would you be upset with me if I did?" Brother Thomas asked.

"Never."

"The way your personal assistant and David's wife were getting along, I half thought he wouldn't be in the way and we could meet in my room tonight. And maybe we still can if they . . ."

"Chris and David's wife?" Paul said it with a snort. "I hardly think so."

"David certainly seemed to think so," Brother Thomas said. "He was nervous and left for the hotel early tonight. He no doubt has his young wife back in line and in his bed by now."

"Oh, you think so? You think David went back for his wife? That's highly debatable. Didn't you see how closely Chris resembles you at that age?"

"I don't know what . . . did you use the word 'debatable' again?"

They both laughed.

"Your assistant, Chris . . ." Brother Thomas now said. "You are fucking him, aren't you?"

"So you noticed," Paul answered.

"That he looks so much like I did back in 1980? Yes. You didn't have to tell me that. When I saw that is when I first believed we might be able to rekindle what we once had."

"And you aren't upset that I kept pursuing the ideal of you beyond the time we spent together?"

"Not in the slightest," Thomas answered in a quiet, hoarse voice.

"We're wasting time, you know," Paul suddenly said. "You said that Scarlotti would be back in about—"

"As you said, we're wasting time," Brother Thomas said, as he came up on his knees and covered Paul's mouth with his.

This time, with Brother Thomas lying on the small of his back on the hay bale, and a trouserless Paul hunched between the smaller man's spread and lifted legs, his ankles held in Paul's fists, the two took a bit too long in the fuck. And they failed to anticipate how silently Monsignor Scarlotti could move in the night.

He was there, inside the stable, watching them, for several minutes before they became aware of his presence. When they did, it was after the monsignor had slowly unbuttoned the thirty-three buttons of his cassock and spread the cassock apart, showing not only that he was naked underneath but also that a firm erection jutted out from his gray pubic bush.

Somewhat shocked, but the scenario being too clear for Paul to bother to try to hide it, Paul turned his head to the monsignor. He didn't seem all that surprised that the priest was naked and erect under his cassock. "You didn't have time to get to the hotel and back—and I don't see a first aid kit. Have you been—?"

"I've been watching from the shadows the entire time, yes," Scarlotti said. "I figured that Brother Thomas would be at you for this. I didn't buy into his charade of a twisting ankle. And you know what I want now."

It was only after the monsignor had saddled up behind Paul and had thrust inside him and was fucking him from behind while Paul was fucking Brother Thomas missionary style that the mentor and his students of thirty years previously were truly traveling back down memory lane.

* * * *

The three were not exactly missed by those they'd left back at the hotel. David Eagleton, who had carried a crush for Brother Thomas all these years but had suppressed it because Monsignor Scarlotti was in control and Paul Frasier had been there first, had been deeply taken with Chris Cahill earlier in the evening. Chris so closely resembled the young Thomas, who David had pined for but had never won, that David was smitten by him. David followed Chris to the men's room from the Jefferson bar and was delighted to find that Chris had no problem with being propositioned by him. Chris wasn't just Paul Frasier's personal assistant; he also was Paul Frasier's boy toy.

While Paul and the clerics were having their memory-lane threesome in the stables, David Eagleton was thoroughly into Chris—in the literal meaning of that word—in Chris' room at the hotel. And David wasn't the least bit worried about where his young wife, Amber, was or what she was doing. They had an arrangement for political reasons.

Amber wasn't being overlooked, however. The message she'd passed to their waiter in the Jefferson bar had had its immediate—and intended—effect. Those two, young, beautiful people were fucking like rabbits in an empty room the waiter had purloined with the help of a friend at the reception desk.