“To be frank, I was thinking of leaving anyway, so you haven’t really spoiled anything for me.”
There was an awkward pause, as though both of them were contemplating carrying the matter further.
“Then perhaps you’ll let me give you a lift,” Roger suggested finally. Ordinarily he was not so abrupt. He would wait until much had been established through conversation, and often he would even wait for a second meeting. But he liked this young man, and if Andrew was leaving now, there might not be a second meeting.
“That would be nice, thank you,” Andrew said.
It was at this point that Roger invariably grew nervous. In all that happened before an actual advance took place, this might have been any ordinary social meeting, and he could handle it with the inbred finesse that came from being a Caldwell.
His training as a Caldwell, however, did not extend to dealing with the fine points of a homosexual pickup. Tawdry as it sounded, he had never been able to think of this sort of thing as anything else. Having managed an introduction and set the stage, he had moved out of his element. If he were fortunate, the person he had met would be a slightly aggressive type, who would now take the initiative. If not, then he was forced to fumble and stammer and hint until he had made his desires plain.
He was rather fortunate with Andrew who, although not really aggressive, seemed to have exactly the same plans in mind. Roger’s shy suggestion that Andrew stop by his suite at the Waldorf for a drink was quickly and warmly accepted, and Roger relaxed, having carried the overtures a step further without mishap, and confident by now that it would not be difficult to carry them to the hoped for conclusion.
* * * *
“Pleasant,” Andrew said approvingly when he saw the suite.
“Yes, I find it comfortable.” Roger ordered champagne sent up, raising an eyebrow silently to ask if that was satisfactory with his guest. A quick nod told him it was.
Conversation was easy with this relaxed stranger, who seemed to be well educated and in fact even knew some of the same people Roger knew, although he insisted he did not know them well. Roger found himself wondering how intimate his guest had been with some of them. Names were mentioned of people he knew to be from the best families, men whom he had not before suspected of being inclined toward homosexual outlets.
He was relieved when Andrew spared him the necessity of broaching the subject of sex. There was little doubt that the subject was on both their minds, but as usual, Roger had been at a loss as to how to bring it up.
“Should we get more comfortable?” Andrew asked, finishing a glass of champagne. He glanced fleetingly in the direction of the bedroom.
“Yes, I’d like that,” Roger said. They stood together. There was a heat in Roger’s crotch and he found himself aroused at contemplating what was to follow. He gazed longingly at the young man before him—tall, slim, sensuous. With a nervous smile, Roger turned and led the way into the bedroom, Andrew following.
Roger was somewhat modest about undressing in the light, but even with the draperies closed, the room was still far from dark. A bit uncomfortably, he removed his clothing, hanging everything neatly in the closet. Andrew, too, was neat with his things, a fact that pleased Roger. The young blond did not seem modest about his nudity. He removed his underthings without hesitation, moving unembarrassed about the room. Roger found himself staring in fascination and desire.
And Andrew was very desirable, even more so than with his clothes on. His sculptured buttocks, the slim waist, the patch of gold at the base of his stomach, fired Roger’s craving. He watched the long, lovely pendulum of flesh swing lazily from side to side as the young man walked.
“Better take them off, hadn’t you?” Andrew suggested with a smile, indicating the shorts that Roger still wore. “No, wait, I’ll do it for you.”
He slid the fabric down over Roger’s hips and legs, and gently grasped the rigid, bobbing evidence of Roger’s desire. Then, slowly; but firmly, he pushed Roger down upon the bed, crouching above him. Roger’s vision was filled with the firm surface of a stomach, hips posed and tensed, the golden jungle of curls around a rigid column of manhood moving closer. His lips parted, to be invaded by firm, warm flesh. His hands lifted to stroke the tensed buttocks.
“Gently, gently,” Andrew crooned above him. His hips moved to and fro, slowly at first, the movements gradually increasing in tempo.
The blond arched his spine, leaning backward, and his hand again clasped Roger’s erection, stroking it tenderly. They moved together, Roger struggling to fill himself with the offering of his beautiful companion. He choked, never very artful in these acts, and would have paused to get his breath, but the youth above him was unrelenting now, caught up in the heat of their sexuality. His hips continued to thrust, driving himself deeper and more forcefully.
Roger’s own desire concentrated itself at his loins, a mounting pressure that demanded release. It grew, becoming almost unbearable. Roger wanted to cry out, but could not. He writhed slightly, thrusting himself upward into the tight-gripping, coaxing hand.
He struggled against the weight of his partner’s loins, wanting to tell him to delay. Not yet, he wanted to cry out, but the young man over him would not retreat and suddenly it was too late. Roger felt the surge of his climax, the upward rushing, and he exploded, droplets of hot liquid spattering across his abdomen.
He wanted to pause, to have a moment to regain his breath. He pushed against his partner’s slim hips, but Andrew brushed his hand roughly away, and Roger realized that Andrew was near the end as well, too near to delay. His hips moved furiously now, driving deeply. Roger felt the swelling, the instant of frozen motion and then he was choking and gasping as the throbbing flesh poured out his tribute into his mouth.
Andrew fell away from him, sprawling across the bed, breathing deeply. Roger too remained motionless for a long time, his heart still pounding frantically with the exertion. Finally, Andrew moved, got up and disappeared into the bathroom. While he was gone, Roger remembered his nudity and went to the closet for a robe, slipping it on.
Andrew noticed the robe when he returned and smiled in amusement as he began to dress again. “Did you enjoy yourself?” he asked as he bent down to lace his shoes.
“Very much,” Roger assured him honestly.
“That’s good,” Andrew said. “I always like my companions to enjoy the experience. That way, they don’t object when I ask for something in the way of a reward.”
A wave of disappointment swept over Roger. Of course, he had expected that this young man had a financial interest in him. That was to be expected. Ordinarily, he offered his companion some money, a few dollars to compensate for their time and the attention they had given him. He knew, after all, that he was no beauty. He did not like them to ask for it, however. Somehow, when he offered the money as a gift, it made the business seem less like prostitution.
“Of course,” he answered, taking his billfold from the dresser. “I had planned on offering you a little something. Will twenty do?”
Andrew straightened up. He was smiling again, but this time his smile was cold and hard, vastly different from the way he had looked at Roger before. “I had a little more than that in mind,” he said bluntly.
“I see.” Roger’s embarrassment deepened. He had never before been in the position of haggling like this. “Fifty, then. It’s steep, but I suppose I can’t really object.”
“I was thinking more in terms of, let’s say, a thousand.” Andrew stood, looking even taller than before. He was no longer pretty and gracious, but formidable and threatening.
Roger stared in astonishment. “You can’t be serious,” he said, “I have no intention of paying you that sort of money.”
“I am serious. And you will pay. I know your type, you see. You’re not the sort who likes a lot of ugly scandal, and scenes in hotels. That’s the alternative you have.”
Roger