Chapter 2 – Chapter 2

"Do I know you?"

"Does it matter for what you want?"

Jack had staked himself out on the beach on an oversized towel. He was propped up on his elbows, facing the beach, legs a bit spread, wearing only a black silky Speedo that clung to every crevice and curve and reflective sunglasses that kept his eyes a secret to himself. Nathan Crosby had passed twice between him and the waterline before pausing the third time at Jack's feet. He was wearing trunks, but they didn't hide his arousal.

"What might I want?" Nathan said in an amused voice. He crouched down nearly between Jack's feet to continue the conversation, which revealed that he indeed wanted something.

"Maybe to go a round or two more privately?" Jack asked. "Would you have marched past me three times and taken a good look if you didn't have a specific itch to scratch?"

"Maybe," Nathan answered. One of his hands moved to take hold of Jack's ankle. Jack didn't flinch. Nathan looked up and down the beach to see if anyone was watching. Jack carefully raised and bent his legs, still leaving them spread, moving slowly enough that Nathan's hand remained on his ankle. Nathan goose-stepped in his crouch closer in to Jack's body. He looked up and down the beach again—the afternoon was moving toward long shadows and most other bathers had moved inside for happy hour. Seeing no one watching, Nathan moved in with his other hand to feel Jack's crotch.

"I wonder which one of us is harder," Jack said, painting an amused smile on his face. "You got a room in the hotel we can move this to?"

Jack already knew that Nathan had a room at the Radisson. He also knew, though, that there was a Mrs. Crosby booked in that room as well. He just wanted to rattle Nathan a bit, to remind him how two-faced he was about this.

"Afraid not," Nathan answered smoothly, not knowing that Jack knew quite a bit about him already—and not yet having recognized who Jack was.

They struggled a bit for ascendance on the bed in Jack's room after each had sucked the other to shuddering arousal. Nathan obviously was accustomed to being the top. That was far from the plan that Jack had for him. And, finally, Nathan gave up when he'd been turned on his belly and Jack was covering his back and, in surrender, raised his pelvis to give Jack a good entry angle.

His eyes flew open and his mouth gaped in a cavernous response of surprise and shock as Jack started riding him furiously—hard, deep, and fast—brutally—to a prolonged ejaculation. It all happened so unexpectedly and fast that Nathan didn't have time to build up to his own release before it, painfully for him, was over.

Finished, Jack rose quickly from the bed, scooped up Nathan's swimsuit, threw it at him, and growled, "You asked me if you knew me. I can tell you now that you once did. I'm Jack Lane. Remember? Tubby Jack Lane from back at FIT. We're at our tenth reunion. Remember? Remember how you made fun of me? How I begged for a fuck and you just turned me over to your friends to provide blow jobs all around? Well, look who's fucked now."

"Jack?" Nathan said in a weak, confused voice. He never had been very quick on the uptake. But then it hit him, and he turned red in the face.

"I'll give you thirty seconds to pull your suit on and get out of my room," Jack said. "If you're still naked then, you go out in the hall that way and I go looking for your wife."

Nathan made it out of the room in twenty seconds.

* * * *

After Nathan left, Jack felt drained, and, although satisfied that after ten years he'd put Nathan in his place, somehow the victory didn't seem rich enough to Jack. He had come down to Melbourne, signing up for a silly reunion of a Podunk college, just for those few moments of watching Nathan Crosby's face turn red?

Well, no, he had come to try to hook up with Cameron Rawlings too. But that had gone bust.

Tired and out of sorts, Jack decided that he had no interest in going to the reunion banquet that had already started down in the hotel ballroom. He had thought that he would enjoy sitting somewhere near Nathan and his wife so that he could gloat a bit and make Nathan more uncomfortable. But now he realized how petty that was.

"Fuck Nathan," he said out loud. Then he laughed, recovering his humor a bit. That's exactly what he'd done. He'd fucked Nathan. And it had been obvious that Nathan wasn't a bottom. He wanted the new Jack so much, though, that he was willing to bottom for him.

"Fuck him," Jack said, and then he went off to take a shower, pulled on a set of sleeping shorts, and crawled under the sheets of the bed, his nose sniffing in the musky smell of the sex of the two men. "Fuck him," he muttered again, rolled over in the bed, and went to sleep earlier than he'd done since he was a child.

The knock on the door woke him. The room was dark, but he reached over and flicked on the lamp on the nightstand. It was barely 10:00 p.m. Whoever had knocked had every reason to believe he'd still be up. If it was someone from the reunion, they might even wonder if he was well, as he hadn't shown up for the banquet.

But who would care or know where to find him? He froze then at the realization that he'd given the correct room number to Sara. He began to sweat. He hadn't been with a woman since the last fumbling sessions with Sara ten years previously.

Could he fuck her if that's what she was here for? Could he pretend to want her? She was the madam of a brothel now. Wouldn't she be able to tell he wasn't interested? And would she have a grudge against him from college that would cause her to spread his preferences all over the class of 2005? That wouldn't be good for his business. He'd been very careful to keep his coupling with men under wraps.

The knocking continued. But now it was being accompanied by a voice. A man's voice. Not Sara's. "Oh, shit," he thought. Had Cliff Hollings ferreted out his real room number? But then it didn't sound like Cliff's voice.

He stumbled over to the door and opened it.

"Oh! Did I catch you sleeping?"

"Cameron," Jack said, the surprise evident in his voice. Instinctively, he popped his head beyond the door frame and looked up and down for evidence of the black brute he'd seen Cameron with.

"I'm alone. I . . . I wanted to see you again," Cameron stuttered out. "You've been on my mind ever since stuff started coming out on the reunion. I only came because I hoped you'd be here."

"The black man. The man you were with in the bar yesterday," Jack said.

"Michael?" Cameron laughed. "He's my bodyguard. I think of him more as my minder. The corporation saddled me with him because of all of the company secrets rattling around in my head. The price one pays for being a tech corporation CEO in Silicon Valley. I gave him the slip to come up here, though. I saw you in the bar yesterday and couldn't wait to hook up again. That is if you haven't lost interest after all these years."

Jack reached out into the corridor and pulled Cameron into his room. Slamming the door with one hand, he pressed Cameron up against the wall beside the door with the other hand and with his naked torso.

Cameron emitted a little moan, as Jack's mouth found his. There was no reluctance there. Cameron opened his lips to Jack's pressing tongue and moved his arms around Jack's waist, his hands pushing under the waistband of Jack's sleeping shorts and gripping his buttocks.

Exhilarated, Jack's mind screamed that it had been a great tenth reunion after all as he led Cameron over to his bed.