Chapter 2 – Chapter 2
There was a reason Dillon's assignment was going smoothly, which was revealed to him as soon as they entered the greenhouse, a Victorian confection attached to the side of the vehicle garage for the president's house and jutting out into a garden illuminated by well-placed and -disguised lights to give the impression of a fairyland. The lights were blazing on the first floor of the president's house and the tinkling conversation from a cocktail party in progress could be heard across the expanse of the garden. Dillon knew from Madge's instructions for the evening that President McMillan was in Atlanta to give a speech, so he reasoned that the party must be one of the many that was booked for a college organization and that didn't require McMillan's presence.
Still, the nearby party across a firefly-sparkled garden, with the swirl of heads, torsos, and raised glasses visible through the wide expanse of greenhouse glass and the hanging orchids, lent a surrealistic effect to the straightforward talk of Professor Strang now that the two were alone.
"We don't have long, and I sometimes need a good buildup, so we might as well get right down to it," he said as he and Dillon drew into the humid atmosphere of the orchid display.
"Excuse me?" Dillon answered, not so smart that he could flip that fast into a new, fast scene.
"Tonight is about Madge's tenure prospects. You are here to plead her case with your body, are you not? I don't need the preliminaries. I knew of your past reputation on campus before Madge came to me and told me you'd take cock if I'd treat her favorably in the tenure deliberations. I made no promises but said I'd give you a whirl. Now that I see you in person, I'll be quite willing to give you that whirl."
Dillon could have feigned that he didn't know what this was all about, but he did, and the professor was right. A half hour—twenty-five minutes now—wasn't long for him to make the case that Madge had insisted that he do.
Besides, Strang's cock was already out of his trousers, he was fisting it, and it already was hard. With a sigh, Dillon knelt down in front of him and took the cock—a rather nice one—in his mouth.
The surrealism continued for Dillon as, with his trousers and briefs bunched around his ankles, he was bent over a cleared-off ledge with his nose nearly plastered to the glass of the greenhouse wall. His eyes watched the swirl of the party in the president's house through the large windows looking out on the lit garden and Gunther Strang stood close behind him, hands grasping Dillon's hips, and cock working in and out of Dillon's ass channel.
Gunther was muttering in guttural German, so Dillon decided the professor must be enjoying himself. So, assignment completed as far as Dillon was concerned; he'd done what Madge had pressured him to do. It was up to Strang now to decide whether this favored Madge's candidacy for tenure. Dillon felt a little guilty, though, because he was enjoying the working of Gunther's cock inside him. Despite all of the rumblings on campus during his earlier life at Montebello, Dillon did enjoy having a man's plump cock inside him rubbing against his prostate. And he did enjoy soaring on a high and releasing his seed from a man's attention. He even, tonight, enjoyed the surreal effect and danger of doing it here in the greenhouse where anyone who decided to get a smoke or a secret grope in the garden could come away from the party in the president's house and discover Gunther and him going at it.
It took more than the half hour, and Dillon didn't make any effort to bring it to an earlier climax. When the two men returned to the cottage living room, though, the women said nothing about the extra time and dinner was still not on the table.
"Has Sondra been chewing your ear off about women's literature in nineteenth-century Germany?" Gunther asked Madge jovially as they strode, all smiles, into the living room.
"Something like that," Madge mumbled, but she was looking a bit distracted and nonplused. Dillon hoped she was having remorse about what she had pressed him to do—and that he'd carried through and done for her. He felt a little pleased with himself that she was in this disconcerted mood.
In contrast, Sondra had become more aware and was moving more self-confidently—more erect and more in command and, yes, looking more lovely—than she had looked when the men had departed the house.
Dinner was an anticlimax. The Strangs prattled on almost solely between themselves through the meal, being clever and witty in their choices of comment, both all smiles and vivacious, while Madge was somber and noticeably withdrawn, and Dillon was icy with her, shooting her "Aren't you proud of what you made me do?" glances when he got the chance. There were points to be won by playing the martyr here; he didn't have to reveal that he'd enjoyed Gunther's cocking.
He also played up to Gunther. This only partially was as punishment to Madge. He, in fact, wanted Gunther to know he could have him again. What Gunther had done had brought back memories to Dillon of a time of greater sexual fulfillment than he had gotten from Madge in the short time they'd been married. Sex with her had been better—enhanced by being forbidden—when they were having their affair, than it was afterward, when they were married.
Madge maintained her distant mood and downcast eyes after they'd entered the car for the short drive back to their house.
"Aren't you going to ask me whether—?" Dillon started to ask as he pulled the car away from the curb.
"No," she fairly spat out, turning her head to the passenger window. "I could see that you managed."
"And you don't have anything to say? No word of thanks?"
"Yes, of course, thanks," she shot back. "Now, if you don't mind, I have a splitting headache and I'd rather not engage in silly chit-chat on the way home."
Dillon shrugged and turned his attention to the road. He actually thought the evening had gone quite well. Madge's behavior now only enhanced the glow he still felt from Gunther Strang's attentions. This just added to his resolve to see Gunther privately again when the chance arose. He was pleased that Gunther had suggested it, and he hadn't hesitated to agree to it.
And he didn't really give a fuck if Madge got tenure or not. He had the distinct feeling that they wouldn't last much longer as a couple regardless and then he didn't give a shit where she went. She was just a user.
* * * *
Sondra and Gunther Strang stood at one of the cottage's living room windows looking out onto the street and watched Dillon and Madge drive away. Gunther had an arm around Sondra's waist, which is as close as he'd gotten to her in several days and was as close as he would get to her for several more. Both were smiling, their eyes were blazing, and they were humming the same tune softly.
"Did you enjoy him?" Sondra asked.
"Yes, of course. He's quite a luscious piece. And he must have enjoyed it too. He said he'd be happy to do it again anytime we could arrange it. And you. Did you get into Madge's panties?"
"You know I did. Probably not as enjoyable an encounter as you had—she was stiff at first and held back until I spelled out the tenure issue with her. Then she was fine. Moody afterward, as you could see when you returned."
"So, are you going to support her for tenure with your father? It continues to amaze me that these faculty people don't understand the control you have over your father—and that neither Madge nor Stan Snodgrass seem to realize that the route to currying favor for tenure here doesn't arrive at me—that it's in the hands of Clifton McMillan and goes through you."
"I don't know yet whether or not I'll support her over Stan Snodgrass. Madge is ambitious and has a great body, but she's a grasping bitch—and a cold one at that, during the act. Stan and his wife are coming for dinner on Thursday night. I know it will be a dull evening for you, being forced to discuss French Romanticism with that blowhard Stan all evening, but his wife is quite a sweet little thing. If she is as accessible to another woman as campus rumor has it, Thursday might just be Stan Snodgrass' lucky day."