THE DUKES AND DUCHESS OF WINDSOR
Disclaimer: This story concerns mainly homosexual men and their lives, relationships and sexual activities. It was inspired only by my visions and invention. This tale is entirely fictional. If there are any similarities to actual people, places or events, it is purely coincidental. If you are under 18 or if reading this story would be illegal for you in your area or if you don't like the subject matter, please leave now. Always be SAFE. Otherwise read on and I hope you enjoy.
The Dukes of Windsor Copyright 2004 by Paul H. Daventon. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author. If you are enjoying this story, write to me at dukesofwindsor@juno.com
When you write, please put "Dukes" or "Dukes of Windsor" in the Subject line so I concentrate on story email. Thanks, Paul.
THANK YOU I'd be remiss if I didn't thank David and Allen for editing the chapters of this story. They have made the writing smoother, more correct and easier to read.. Thank you guys so much for your help and your encouragement, keeping me on the path. Love you forever. Paul Daventon
AUTHOR'S NOTE: The Dukes and Duchess of Windsor has 38 chapters and the story is finished. I will put a chapter on each week if all goes well. P.D.
========== Chapter Eight ==========
The brass group, Dukes and Duchess of Windsor, had just performed on campus in the auditorium in front of 500-600 friends, students, parents and faculty to great applause. The Dukes were so excited with their own performance, thrilled because everyone liked them, well, almost everyone.
In the back of the auditorium, Professor Victor Whinery was furious and he raged to himself, 'Damn, why didn't I know that Matt had a replacement for Hardy all ready. Now he has had another success, this time the whole campus will know, and I saw some unfamiliar faces in the audience. Some people from out of town got in on the concert, too.'
Three rows ahead of Victor were three men, a set of twins and a young man, all in their middle 20s, looking very prosperous. He noticed that they applauded loudly and with gusto. On the way out of the auditorium, they were debating whether to see Matt or just tell him later they had heard the program. Victor didn't know the twins were Matt's friends from Columbus who brought Joey Montoni, their cousin from River City, with them. Joey had been visiting them and really wanted to get home to be with his lover, Ben Heskett. But the twins were a strong influence. He finally admitted that he was happy that they had taken him to hear the Dukes.
"Man, Ricco, Tony, that was a super program. I think we should talk Brian into sponsoring them at the U of Ohio branch in River City. That might be a leap for them in publicity."
Tony agreed, "When you get back, Joey, talk to Brian and charm him. I know he's in love with his Congressman, Mike, but wink at him sweetly, sexily and wantonly."
Ricco complained loudly, "But I'm starving, Tony," he pouted, "and I need my balanced diet."
Tony told Joey, "Yeah, his balanced diet is pizza and beer."
"Is he always like this, Tony? You really haven't trained him very well."
"What can I do, Joey, I love him." He smiled adoringly at Ricco and hugged him.
Back a year or so, Joey had a chance to have sex with the twins and his own lover, Ben Heskett, in a foursome. He would never forget the wonderful time he had with Tony and Ricco, wild and hot; he and Ben screwing the twins while they were sucking each other. His dick rose.
By this time, the three were in Joey's red truck, an inheritance from his brother, Rocco, driving slowly down Main Street. Ricco shouted, "There's a place, there, right there, called Hob Nob. It must be good because the one in River City is."
Tony replied calmly, "Ok, Joey, pull over and stop. But I don't think it is a chain."
Before the Dukes and Duchess could leave the auditorium, they needed to clean up.
"Hardy," Roger said, "We're going to find out who did this to you. Don't worry, we have our sources and will find out. When we do, they better head for the hills."
Hardy mumbled, "Tankth, Rog, I apprethiate it, but I have a good idea who it wath, and I'm sure he did it for money. We need to find out who thupplied the money, though."
The entire Dukes and Duchess changed clothes in the dressing rooms, then headed for the Hob Nob Restaurant with Hardy and Matt following along. Hardy didn't think he could eat anything, but he could sip a beer with a straw. "I'm probably going to lothe weight with thith liquid diet, but I'm thure I'll enjoy it." He laughed without moving his lips.
"Geez, Hardy, you sure look like you battled the world champion. I don't understand how you can see through your swollen lids."
Hardy spoke menacingly, "You get near my beer and I'll be able to thee very well."
He leaned over to Matt, "Excuthe me, I gotta go drain the lizard. Watch my beer."
When he had left, Roger moved next to Matt temporarily, "You know, Dr. R., that electronic connection between Hardy and me?" Matt nodded. "Well, I never heard a word he said, I don't know what went wrong, but I just couldn't hear him."
Matt smiled, "Well, don't ever tell him, he worked hard at that. And you did well without it."
"Ok, I won't, and thanks."
"I'm very proud of you, Roger, tremendously proud, and you are just a junior?"
"Yes, Dr. R., that's right."
"Well then, you'll have another year of the Dukes. You could almost do it now, in fact you played splendidly, just need a little poise and presence that Hardy has. You will have that, too, with experience." He laid his arm across Roger's shoulder and hugged, "I'm so pleased, Roger, to have you as a student. And we couldn't have gone on tonight without you." He put his mouth near Roger's ear, "I really think a great deal of you, man, and I'm pleased that you are one of mine!" He released Roger as Hardy came back.
Roger moved back to his original chair, shyly smiling at Hardy as if to say, 'I know something you don't'.
The three men walked into the restaurant, looking around for a table when they recognized the crowd of students as the Dukes and Duchess, having a few.
"Come on, guys, we can at least express our pleasure and appreciation for a wonderful concert," Tony said, dragging them to the other table.
"Hi, you all must be the Dukes and such, we want you to know you are really great, outstanding. Congratulations."
An older man turned to see who was praising his group.
"Tony! Tony and Ricco! Hi, guys, I'm so glad you came up." Matt jumped up and shook hands with the twins, whispering to them, "Cool it, guys, my students." He smiled worriedly.
"Hi Matt," Tony greeted him calmly, "this is our cousin from River City, Joey Montoni."
They shook and Joey said, "How would you like to travel to River City to give a concert at U of Ohio there?" He nodded to the twins, "They suggested that we get a sponsor who would pay your expenses. What do you think?"
The whole table has been listening and shouted, "Yes, yes. We'd like that. Let's do it, Dr. R." They all started talking at once so that he couldn't hear anyone."
The twins and Joey broke into laughter, Tony said, "Who runs this group, Matt? I don't think it's you."
"Well, Joey, if you can, would you find out what we can do and let us know. We might be able to go during Christmas break, middle of December or first couple weeks of January."
Matt continued. "Guys, we were just leaving. Have something to eat and I'll get in touch later." He turned to the Dukes, "Ok, time to go home. See you Monday at school. Thanks again for a great show."
"Bye, Matt, we'll be talking to you." Tony, Ricco and Joey shook hands with Matt, found a table and proceeded to try to assuage Ricco's hunger.
Matt had taken Hardy to his house, bathed and dried him, and put him to bed. He fell asleep quickly after he got in with him and held him in his arms. His cell phone chirped at him.
"Hello," he answered quickly.
"Is this Dr. Ridgway?"
"Yes it is."
"This is Dr. Burke in Emergency. We have had an emergency patient come in, oh, just a few minutes ago. He had a broken knuckle and the skin all over both hands has been broken, bleeding freely."
"Doctor, what sort of shirt is he wearing?"
"Just a T-shirt, plain white, though now covered with blood."
"I think that man just beat up a friend of mine just to keep him from playing in a concert tonight."
"The Dukes, is he one of those?"
"Yes, we had to use a substitute for him tonight. First, I've got to get the police on this. Could you stall as long as possible before working on him - oh, x-rays, MRIs, etc.? Could you also put him out for a while because of his pain? Maybe put a cast on his hand. Also, could you get his T-shirt off of him, my friend's blood should be on there." Matt thought deeply, "Also, when I come over, I'm coming with a policeman who, I hope, will arrest him."
"Sure, Dr. Ridgway, I'll do my best. Bye."
Before calling the police, Matt called Gary in Columbus.
"Hey, Gary, have you found out anything about Mr. Maltese for me?"
"Boy, have I. His real name is Charles Falcone. Quite a joker. Maltese Falcone. Must have heard of the movie a few times.
"Anyway, he's wanted on a charge of assault and battery, damn near killed a man, then disappeared. I have a wanted poster with all the particulars on it."
"Gary, that's great, could you fax that to the Windsor Police Department? Right away."
Gary was concerned, "What happened?"
"Just to keep Hardy from playing tonight, he beat his face up, pretty bad. He'll be okay, but won't be playing for a while."
"Oh, Matt, I'm so sorry." He thought, "Hey, I have other stuff on this guy and I'll fax that to your police also. Tell Hardy I'm sorry and hope you can make him feel better tonight."
"I think he is beyond all that tonight."
Immediately Hardy yelled to Matt, "I am not, my face hurth, nothing else. My dick ith in fine thape, in fact, humongouth thhape. Tho there."
"Did you hear that, Gary? You see what I have to put up with?" He laughed. "I've got to go, thanks a lot, Gary. See you, bye."
Hardy hollered, "And I'm going with you, Matt, help me get out of bed."
Matt and Hardy met Sergeant Reardon at the entrance to the Emergency Ward of the City Hospital. "Has the information my lawyer sent been a help?"
"Oh, yes, Dr. Ridgway. Is Mr. Wolfe positive of his identification of Mr. Falcone?"
"Hardy has lived with him as his roommate for two months. He knows him quite well."
"And you say you think someone paid him to injure Hardy enough so that he couldn't play tonight." He smiled at Matt, "That was a great show, Doctor, I enjoyed it very much, though I had to leave before the end."
"Thanks, Sergeant. That's what I believe and if we are smart and clever, I think we can find out for sure just who paid him."
"Do you feel good enough, Mr. Wolfe, to face him and accuse him?" Matt nodded. "Good. Then, Matt, you're going to promise you won't tell the police about his other felonies, if he opens up."
"Let's go do it, I'll stay out of the way for now and I'll send one of my men to get the T- shirt so forensics can get started on it. We'll need a sample of Hardy's blood for comparison."
Matt walked through the curtains around Charlie's bed, who lay on the bed, his hand in a cast, wearing a hospital gown on his upper body. Matt knew that Hardy and the Sergeant were just outside the curtains, listening carefully.
"Hey, Charlie, I'm Dr. Ridgway of the Music Department."
"Yeah? So what."
"Well, Hardy tells me you are the one who beat him up earlier tonight. What do you say?"
"Hell, it wasn't me, why would I do that?"
Matt smiled grimly, "Well, Charlie, could be someone paid you to do it? Maybe?"
"Shit, I didn't do it. Now go away, I'm tired."
"Well, Charlie, you are going to be much more tired when I get done. You have some choices to make." Matt reached into his briefcase and brought out a piece of paper. "Here, man, take a look at this," and Matt handed him his Wanted Poster for his previous aggravated assault and battery in Columbus.
Charlie yells, "Where the hell did you get this? You son-of-a-bitchin' bastard, what ya gonna do?" He suddenly tore the sheet to pieces.
"Well, Charlie, I have a choice, too. I want to know who paid you or was going to pay you." Matt walked around to the other side of the bed. "And, I could just destroy the other copies of the Wanted Poster, or I could call in the police." He continued, "By the way, I do have more of those posters at home."
He stared into Charlie's eyes, "Which was it, you got paid or didn't? And who did or didn't pay you. You have to decide quick, Charlie, I'm getting impatient."
Even Charlie could tell he didn't have a chance. "Ok, man, it was Whinery, the guy in the Music Department. He said he'd pay me 500 bucks to bust Hardy's chops."
"Come on in, Hardy, take a look at your old roomie? What shall we do with him?"
Hardy had come to stand by the bed, "Well, I say we have Sergeant Reardon come in and play the tape recording he made while Charlie was talking just now."
"Sure. Come on in, Sergeant. I lied, Charlie, the police already have copies of your Wanted Poster and they will take charge from here on in. Hardy will also be suing you in Civil Court for every cent you got."
"Yeah," Hardy taunted, "and Matt, he's got the smallest dick I've ever seen. No wonder he is always trying to make up for his inadequate manhood." His companions smiled, but Charlie didn't.
"Sergeant," Matt turned to him, "we'll leave him to you. Have a good trip to Columbus, Charlie, and have a great life."
Soon, Matt and Hardy were back home and in bed. Hardy had called his mother to apprise her of the recent events, telling her that his ex-roommate was in a jail cell and the teacher would be dismissed if not arrested, conspiring to commit a felony. Even if that couldn't be proved, it was enough to ask for his resignation. Testimony by Charlie, a felon, was not highly regarded.
"Now, Wolfie, you behave, do what Matt tells you, hear?"
'Yes, Mom, I'll be fine. The doctor said my face will heal just fine."
"Well, I miss you, love, do be good, no more fighting. Now let me talk to Matt."
"Ok, we'll be careful. Love you, Mom. Here's Matt. Bye."
"Hi, Anne, I'm trying to handle this sick man, but it is a chore."
"Yes, Matt, and he always was. You're still going to love him, aren't you, Matt?"
Matt laughed, "Yes, it would take more than a face like the Wolfman to turn me off."
He laughed some more, "Now I know what I can call him, Wolfman it is."
Hardy's mother was laughing, too, "And I'll think about adopting Wolfman, too. Bye."
Hardy looked at Matt, "We will be careful, won't we, Matt." He smiled, "You will be careful with me, right? I'm your Wolfman, so you're my Dracula."
Matt lay on his side next to Hardy, flat on his back. "You know, Hardy, I will." He stared lovingly into Hardy's blue eyes, the bit of eye he could see between the puffed lids, and said, "I'll handle you with the gentlest hands anywhere."
"However, I've been thinking here, since Whinery is out on his butt, we are going to need another vocal/choral teacher, and immediately." He gently kissed Hardy's lips, just sliding his lips along those of his lover. "I know just who we need. Hey, what time is it?"
"It's ten-thirty, hon, and we need to sleep; at least I do if we're not doing anything." Hardy sounded very disappointed, so, he thought, he could just play with Matt. It didn't take long, even if Matt was thinking about something else, for Hardy to bring Matt's cock to his usual erection.
"Well, I guess it's too late to talk to the Dean." He sat up, excited then, and talked rapidly, "Hardy, when I taught those three years in that high school in Columbus, I taught with a most wonderful woman, a successful teacher, a vocal/choral teacher named Carol Fowler. She helped me understand just how to be a teacher and how to love being one.
"Carol retired last June, when I left to come here to Windsor. I'll bet you she is bored enough by now to want to work again. And, I think it could be worked so that she could teach and keep her retirement coming, part time work, maybe. I'm going to call her."
"But, Matt, it's late." He was enjoying Matt's cock and balls, playing with both.
"Hell, she stays up past midnight every night. I'll bet she's awake." Matt walked over to the table where the phone lay, his full hot cock waving back and forth in front of his crotch.
Matt got the phone, punched Carol's number in and called. He got back in bed, unconsciously wanting Hardy's hand on his prick. He wished Hardy could suck, but ...... well .... a hand is better than nothing..
"Hello." The soft female voice was not pleased.
"Gee, Carol, you sound sleepy. I didn't wake you up, did I?"
"Matt, you son of a bitch. Yes, you did, damn it, I'll never get to sleep again."
"You gotta be kidding me, Carol. You were always the last to bed."
"Ok, you got me awake, so tell me why."
"Carol, I'm an Associate Professor of Music at Windsor College in instrumental music and we lost our vocal/choral professor today. I'll explain how later. I told my friend with me here that you are probably bored to death. We need a new teacher ASAP."
"Why was I ever friendly to you, you traitor, you deserter? Why college?"
"Enough of that. Carol, could I mention your name to the Dean. We desperately need someone good like you."
"Is the Dean that Powers guy? I can't stand him."
"No, Power's the Head of Music Department who is retiring next June. I've had two run-ins with him already. But he's getting to be a pussy cat, honest."
Carol was quiet, obviously thinking. "Matt, I'd sure love to work with you again. But I don't know how that would work with my retirement."
"Couldn't I talk to Dean McAllister, please? Let's see what he can work out."
"Oh, Ok, Matt, go ahead, but keep me informed, right?"
"Sure, good night and bye."
"Bye, you dear boy."
Matt said, "Bye," and clicked off, though her last remark sounded very personal to him.
Putting the phone down, Matt looked at Hardy, fast asleep. "Oh, well, he needs it. Maybe tomorrow." He turned off the light, settled in bed, cuddling Hardy from his rear, arranging his cock between Hardy's buttocks, warm and slick, feeling very much at home.
Two weeks later, Matt's bedroom barely seemed to have brightened at all when Hardy opened his eyes. The middle of October on daylight savings time was sure to be still dark at 7 in the morning, gray and dull, the early light so cool and without any warmth. He snuggled into Matt's buttocks, and realized that his hot and rigid cock was wedged between them, feeling very snug in there. He didn't want to move.
Hardy brought one hand up to his face, feeling around, testing his injuries for pain or swelling. The bruising had disappeared and most of the swelling had left, but he thought the bones of his face were still bruised and achy. He had been faithfully using a lotion the doctor had given him, noticing the anesthetic and analgesic effects. Two weeks after he had been beaten by Charlie Maltese/Falcone, he was fairly well recovered. He had never stayed away from his classes because he couldn't afford to get behind. Yet he hadn't played. Since his lips felt so much better, he had decided to start practicing his Dukes' music, much of which he hadn't played before. Roger had been working with the Dukes, but Hardy realized he had to get back in there or he might find his place usurped in sentiment, if not in actuality.
The young man threw his right arm around Matt's chest, cupping his pecs then heading south where he found no one up. His own cock was at full body so he gently directed it with his left hand, aiming the cockhead point-blank at Matt's target, a reddish-brown circle of puckers with a tiny opening in the center. Since his prick was oozing precum, Hardy felt he could press ahead with his intentions, shoving his pelvis forward slowly, but forcefully. By the time his pubes hit Matt's buttocks, the older man had started to awake, to respond to his lover's moves.
Matt cleared his throat, "Oh, Hardy, that's a wonderful way to wake up, my man making love to my ass with his hardheaded pole, loving me. Just keep going, babe, I'll go along with the ride all the way." He reached behind Hardy to pull the younger man's buttocks more toward his own buttocks, driving the big cock further inside.
Suddenly, Hardy grabbed Matt's cock with his right hand, the eight-inch weapon full out in length, emerging from Matt's crotch ready to ram through anything. The spongy, dark red cockhead was oozing streams of precum, which Hardy used to lubricate the whole cock while he pumped it with his fist, concentrating on squeezing the glans. He slid the top of his scrotum between his little and ring fingers, pulling that and his balls along with his fist.
Hardy started to increase the speed of his thrusting between Matt's butt cheeks, exciting himself by the sensations on his cock, on the head, the flange, the cockskin all driving him wild with erotic passion. He humped faster and harder while still jacking Matt's cock along with his other motions.
"Hon, we're going to have wet sheets again," Matt whispered, "and I'll have to sleep in it."
"Not to worry, love, I'll wet my side, too, and we'll be all even. However, I do believe we have no more clean sheets, so we will have to do a laundry. And, I believe it is your turn."
"Oh, Hardy, I'm coming, sheets or not, here ... it ..... comes ..... aargh ... nngh .... I love you, man." He shot his wad onto the sheets, not worried a bit. He knew where more fresh sheets were.
Quietly, no explosion or dramatics, Hardy's cock began sending streams of semen deep into Matt's rectum, around his prostate to combine with Matt's juices and form their love. Matt could only feel the light pulses from Hardy's cock, shooting four or five long gushes, but no other sensation internally.
Chirp, chirp, chirp. Matt's cell phone called him to answer. He wrenched himself off Hardy's cock, feeling empty and spent as he walked to the bureau. He didn't notice his own ass- juices dripping down his legs onto the carpet, and his dick drooling some remaining semen to the same place.
"Hello."
"Matt, this is Gary. I hope I caught you at a difficult time." He snorted.
"Yes, Gary, couldn't have been worse, though we had finished, but hadn't enjoyed the afterglow. What's up?"
"I have something you have to do immediately. Do you have your original manuscript with you? In your house?"
Matt thought, "Yes, Gary, I have one, I guess it's the first."
"How about a pile of your original notes for the manuscript? Are they there with you?"
"Hang on, Gary, I'm going to make sure. Ah, yes, Gary, I have a folder filled with many notebooks."
"Ok, now, Matt, you must as quickly as possible, get those in a safety deposit box where they won't be touched except by you. This is vital, Matt. I overheard some remarks after the meeting with the University Press, and I deduced that they might have someone try to steal them from your house. And, I wouldn't put it past them to steal them while keeping you two under a gun."
"I can't believe that, a reputable printers doing something like that."
"Matt, you don't understand the amount of money in contention here. It is a hell of a lot of money, believe me." He paused, "Oh, you can't get into a bank before 9 this morning, can you?
Well, make plans now to get there and get there safely. Do you have some strong young men you could call on to accompany you? You might need them." He apologized, "I wish I had thought of this before, but like you, I had no idea they might actually steal."
"Well, Gary, if you think it is important, we'll find some way to hide them away. We will have to forego our usual post-sex cuddling. I'll call my Dukes friends to a meeting at my house at eight-thirty. Talk to you later."
"Bye, Matt, take care."
Matt turned to cuddle Hardy and explained what Gary had told him to do, wondering how they could do it without trouble. "I don't want to put our guys in danger, but we will need protection. What do you suggest?"
"First, call the guys, LJ, BJ, Roger, Rick, Jamal, now so they know what's up. It's Saturday morning so they might leave early. Won't hurt to wake them up."
Matt interrupted, "We could disguise the manuscript and notes, I could take an empty briefcase while someone carries a grocery sack with groceries on top of the other. Or," he thought, "we could have the grocery sack loaded with junk, then have one of the guys wearing the book records on his body somewhere."
Hardy kissed Matt fervidly, "I guess our first move would be to get up, make the calls, then shower and all, have some breakfast and see if anyone else has ideas when they get here."
"That's good, Hardy. Let's go."
The five Dukes all appeared at Matt's house by eight-thirty, and looked like they were ready to hunt bear. From their clothes they almost looked like a military outfit, so much camouflage print on shirts, pants and coats. Matt thought that wasn't a bad idea. And he had another idea, another call.
"Is Sergeant Reardon on duty?"
"Could I speak to him?"
"Sergeant, this is Dr. Ridgway and I have another problem." He explained what might be going on in the next half hour, what their fears were. "And, we were wondering if you might have a car somewhere in the vicinity of my house which could trail us from a distance from here to the bank."
"Dr. Ridgway, I can't really do anything official, since there has been no crime, however, my partner and I could just happen to be headed that way on patrol. Which bank?"
Matt told him the First National Bank of Windsor.
"Please, these college students who will be in your van, be sure, be positive that none of them have any weapons. No weapons of any kind. Ok?"
"OK, thanks, Sergeant Reardon. I hope you might catch a fish or two. Bye."
"Gentlemen, this is the word from the sergeant. Positively, absolutely no weapons on your person of any kind. Nothing that could even be construed to be a weapon. That is vital."
Hardy knew these guys. He grabbed one of his backpacks and went from man to man emptying their pockets into the backpack. By he'd searched all five, the backpack was almost too heavy for him to hold easily. Knives, switchblades, Swiss Army knives, plus all sorts of standard tools weighed down Hardy's bag. The whole situation became more and more hysterical and riotous. The whole grouped laughed harder and louder as each man was relieved of his weapons.
"Hide that thing away, Hardy, oh, there's a trash barrel in the garage, put the weapons under the trash. Hurry."
Matt had noticed that Little Jeff had a large, full-length coat on and decided he would carry the important materials which were to be tied to his body. The manuscript was stuffed down his pants in front, actually giving his genitals bulletproof protection. The notebooks were attached all over his body, strapped on under his shirt, and inside pockets of his coat.
"Now, LJ, try to act normal, as normal as you can, no matter what happens." Matt chuckled at LJ who was trying to act normal. That won't work, Matt thought. "LJ, I'm going to change my mind, don't act normal, whatever you do. Just act like yourself."
LJ visibly relaxed and eased back into his usual role of laid-back college student.
Matt led the way to his van carrying his briefcase with books in it to weigh it down. Behind him trailed his 'army' of camouflaged young men, six middleweight, slender 'protectors', 'hit-men' or maybe ducklets following Mama Duck. Matt broke up when he looked back to see what all was following him. LJ and BJ couldn't be closer, Roger practically had his nose up Hardy's rear end and Rick and Jamal brought up the rear. Matt couldn't see it, but Rick had his arm under Jamal's coat and down his pants in the rear, his fingers clutching Jamal's naked buttocks, trying to locate his pucker back there.
Picturing his Dukes with heavy, black mustaches and/or heavy, black beards, made him think of a Latin American 'peoples' army on patrol. He couldn't help snickering to himself about it, but wouldn't want to have to tell any of them what he was laughing about.
Matt settled in the driver's seat, Rick and Jamal in the back seat with Rick still missing an arm, LJ and BJ in the middle seats while Hardy and Roger sat close together. Actually, Roger was very close to Hardy, who tolerated him, even smiled at him, understanding this young man's affection for him, but immune to his appeal. He already had his man.
Slowly, Matt drove down to Main Street and through the campus of Windsor College, passing all the trees, the old buildings especially the Music Building and turned left at Market Street. He had seen no cars behind him, none that looked suspicious or even remarkable. He thought he should drive leisurely toward the bank to allow Sergeant Reardon's car adequate room to maneuver.
"Anybody know what time it is?" Matt asked his Dukes.
Everyone answered at once so he understood no one. "Hardy, what time?"
"Nine on the dot."
"Thanks."
At that moment Matt pulled in and parked in front of the First National Bank. 'Well, he thought, we've made it this far.'
Turning to talk to them, "Ok, I'd like all of you to come in with me, to witness everything. Hardy will stay with the car, locking it and keeping watch with the phone in his hand.
Matt walked into the bank just after the doors were unlocked, followed by his entourage of intellectuals. Facing a teller, he asked for Mr. Landsdown.
"Hi, Dr. Ridgway, happy to see you again. What can I do for you?"
"Hi, Mr. Landsdown, I need a safety deposit box, a big one, as fast as possible."
The bank official nodded, "Sure, just follow me down to the vault."
When Matt and all his companions followed him, the bank man looked askance at him, but just shrugged his shoulders and walked into the vault. He knew who these students, Dukes.
"How large a box do you need, Doctor?"
Matt pointed at a large box on a lower level, about a foot square. "That would do it." He called to LJ, "Come over here, LJ, we need you."
Mr. Landsdown opened the box and handed Matt the second key. "Go ahead, Doctor."
Matt opened LJ's coat, pulled the manuscript out of his pants and proceeded to rescue his notes from the shirt and coat pockets. He filled the box, then closed it and locked it with his key. Mr. Landsdown reached down to use his key on the second lock.
The bank official handed Matt the paper work to sign, then shook his hand. "Happy to help out, Doctor, call again." He laughed, "And bring your friends, too."
Matt smiled, "Thanks. Now, no one can get in there but me, right?"
"That's right."
"Ok, Mr. Landsdown, I am going to write a word on your safety box form. If I do not give that word as a password, you are not to open the box. It is stuck. It is broken. The vault is stuck, anything so that you can't get to my box. OK?"
"Ah, I guess we can do that. Yes."
"Thanks for your help. And call me Matt. Good-bye."
"Bye, ah .... ah .... Matt."
When everyone was settled back in their old seats with Rick and Jamal in the back seat and Rick's finger back up Jamal's asshole, Matt was ready to drive off, but saw Sergeant Reardon rapping on the passenger door. The sergeant opened the door after Matt unlocked it, and climbed inside to face the whole group.
"Well, Dr. Ridgway, you sure are a good prophet. Maybe we need you on the force." he laughed. "I kept one car back at your house to watch it, just in case, and they managed to catch two hoods inside, armed and breaking and entering. Of course, there are Wanted Bulletins out on each of them from the Columbus police, too, but we get the credit.
"Thanks so much. And thanks to your 'army', too. Good goin', guys."
The 'army' cheered and yelled, satisfied that the bad guys were licked. And they helped?
"Thanks, Sergeant, I appreciate it a lot."
Reardon saluted and walked away, shaking his head and laughing to himself.
Matt asked Hardy to drive, since he wanted to call Gary.
"Hi, Gary, it's Matt."
"Good to hear from you, how's it goin'?"
"Hey, Gary, me and my army saved the day." He spoke loudly so everybody could hear. "The manuscript and notes are secure in a safety deposit box in the bank and two thugs were arrested in my house. So, your tip was right on the nose."
"Glad to hear you are OK. Talk to you later. Now to talk turkey to their lawyers."
"Right, bye, Gary."
After Hardy drove the van home to Matt's house, Matt discharged the troops, thanking each one, telling them to have a good day and that they had to go to class, no excuses. He also made sure each on had a ride home. He did wonder if they noticed that Hardy had no ride, and he didn't seem to need one.
Hardy and Matt's romance had in fact been noticed by the Dukes and the Duchess, but none of them thought badly of the two lovers. They informally decided not to talk about them except among themselves. They admired both men, hurting them in any way would be horribly wrong and contrary to their feelings. Of course, LJ, BJ, Rick and Jamal were gay, no question, but Roger couldn't decide what he was. He knew he was in love with Hardy, but also knew that Hardy belonged to Matt and he wouldn't do anything to break them apart.
Christine wondered about the four, but wasn't sure about Roger. It was just like Roger himself. Sometimes she thought that it was her duty to introduce Roger to heterosexuality, since she felt he was a virgin. 'Maybe,' she thought, 'as a public service, I should plan his seduction, soon.'
Matt and Hardy showed up at the Music Building that morning just in time for the concert band rehearsal. They had decided not to hide the fact that they did arrive together in the same car.
Matt's graduate seminar course met every day except Friday so Hardy had no classes until after lunch. However, Matt had his rehearsal before they could eat lunch. Matt put Hardy to work on the music for the next Dukes performance, though he didn't know when that would be.
The rehearsal room chairs were filled with musicians, each with their instrument ready to practice. As Matt stepped onto his podium exactly on the hour, they quieted completely and he spoke, "Ladies and Gentlemen, we will be performing our first concert on the first Friday in November. You have conquered some very difficult selections which we can do, but I want to have more variety and a larger number ready."
He smiled guiltily, "Soooo," he dragged out the word, "I have a new one on your stand called 'The Lord of the Rings' composed by Johan de Meij, a Dutch national, that I like a great deal. Is it possible that anyone has heard this music?"
When no hand was raised, Matt continued, "This is programmatic music, fits very well with the story. How many have read the books?" With that question Matt received a forest of waving arms. "Well, that's better. If you have read the books, you have images in your memory of the characters. Now you can match those images with the music in the piece."
"The five parts include Gandalf (the Wizard), Lorlorien (The Elvenwood), Gollum (Smeagol), Journey in the Dark and finally, my favorite, Hobbits."
"I'll tell you, this music is not easy, but the sections are written so that all of them don't have to be performed at the same time. At the least, "Hobbits" could easily be enjoyed by itself. We'll just have to see how it goes. Sight-reading should be interesting."
"Opening bars are a type of fanfare, loud and crisp, after which a decrescendo occurs to settle the dynamics to a murmur. Then the trombones must play their melody with as much legato as possible. Two pages later, Pete, is a trumpet solo which you can easily handle, but it needs your quality and articulation. We won't be running at top speed. Here we go."
At the down beat the trumpets and trombone introduced the fanfare, quickly joined by the low brass into a solid wall of brass sound. Gradually the other instruments entered as their music notated.
The rehearsal that day was not easy, frequent stops for corrections slowed their progress. When the time was over, Matt commended, "People, you have performed better than I thought you would. I apologize for not respecting your abilities enough. Thank you for your work."
The band, as one, applauded Matt and in reality, themselves.
"See you on Monday, be careful this weekend." He saluted them.
Late on Friday afternoon Matt and Hardy were lying on their bed, leaning back on the headboard, covered only by a sheet. Their session of loving had been quick, exuberant and exciting. Feeling satisfied with their appetites appeased, they cuddled each other, caressing their bodies and kissing softly and gently.
Hardy whispered, "Matty, you tasted so good today, whatever you've been eating, keep doing it. Luscious flavor, babe, luscious flavor, I love it on my tongue, down my throat." He sucked Matt's soft cock into his mouth, not intending to make him cum again, just to hold that piece of Matt's body in his warmth, moisture and passionate love..
Matt caressed Hardy's head, combing the hair with his fingers trying to show his love for his lover, appreciated all of his attentions. Soon, he pulled Hardy's head off his cock to bring it even with his lips. Their lips met, gently, just enough tactile sensation to hold them together.
Both men felt the need for sleep to recover their energies and had almost dozed off when Matt's phone chattered in its battery charger. Matt's first feeling was to just let it ring, let the voice mail take care of it, but he finally decided he should answer.
"Hello."
"Hi, Matt, this is Joey Montoni. Remember, we met in Windsor with the Montoni twins. I was the odd man out, but do like those twins. Anyway, Matt, I have someone here who would like to talk to you." He imitated the Johnny Carson announcer, "Heeerrrreee's Brian Whitlow!"
Matt heard laughing in the phone while he waited. Then he heard a cultivated voice.
"Dr. Ridgway, please forgive me, some jokers around here sat on me and wouldn't let me up. My best friend, Congressman Mike Keith, and my step brother, Adam MacLeod, were the instigators."
Matt broke in, "Brian, I feel I know you very well. Please call me Matt; I assume you know I lived next door to the Montoni twins for three years. Because of that, all you people over there seem very familiar to me. I think I've heard all the stories, but I really doubted the truth of at least 50% of them."
Brian, laughter in his soft, warm voice, "I believe you got that right, Matt, and I am anxious to meet you, too. And, just as important, I'd love to meet your brother, I bought his sculpture of the two boys, one younger and one older with his arms around the younger."
"Brian, I'll let you in on a secret, those two boys are my brother, Steve, and me. I think we were about 3 and 6 at the time. Up until a month ago I didn't even know my brother was a sculptor. Some day I'll tell you the story." He told Brian, "Steve's wife died a month ago, very suddenly, so he has two young boys to take care of. Fortunately, his next door neighbor, Gary, is single, and a very good friend and I think he'll make it."
"Well, Matt, sorry to hear about your brother's tragedy." He hesitated, "The twins and Joey were able to hear your quintet's concert and were most impressed with them and you. Their idea was that the group should come here, River City, and play at the U of Ohio branch for students and public. And I agree with them. Their style of music and performance is most unique, well deserving of publicity with which I hope we can assist."
Holding the idea in his mind, Matt considered. "Brian, I know my students would love to do that, but, maybe Joey told you that our problem in financing. We honestly have no sources of that type of funding."
"Matt, that's why I'm calling. I feel your need is a good one, and I'll be happy to supply your funds. What we need to talk about is the method of contributing with the best result. I just want to get the most for the buck. The figure I'm thinking about to start would be $5,000."
"That would be wonderful, Brian, and I hope we can prove a good investment for you. If you contribute to the College, Brian, the amount is completely deductible. I'm not quite sure whether the donor can name specific uses for the money, but I will find out. The Dukes of Windsor is the only traveling performance group at the college, and the only one I can foresee in the near future."
'OK, Matt, I want to give you my phone numbers." He read off those numbers for his home phone, office phone and cell phone. "When you find out, please let me know quickly. We'll be in River City over Halloween, but then back to Washington. By the way, when you set up the fund, I want it named The Bryan Howard Foundation. He was a very good friend of Mike Keith from a very young age and was tragically killed a year ago."
"Sure, Brian, and I hope to meet Mike Keith, whenever that is possible."
"I'll see to it, Matt. Talk to you soon"
"Who was that, Matt?"
"That was Brian Whitlow, Congressman Keith's lover. I know Brian inherited over $500 million dollars from his father, Stuart MacLeod Whitlow, who was in international finance for years, very successfully."
"Is Brian the one who might fund our trips?"
"Yes, Hardy, he's going to give us a $5,000 grant. The problem will be whether the school administration will keep it for us, or steal it before we get a chance to use it."
"I see. Say, is Congressman Keith that gay congressman?"
"Well, Hardy, he's never actually said he is gay, but Brian lives with him and people who know them will usually say that they are gay. He was accused of it before the last election, but his district elected him anyway."
"Have you figured how much it would cost us to do this concert in River City?"
Matt walked to his desk and returned to their bed, wanting to get warm again.
"We would have to stay overnight, so we'd have motel costs, meals, transportation. I'd like to rent a large motor home at our call any time, one that would hold 8 plus driver, and maybe a guest or two, so we would have a comfortable trip. I would guess about $2500."
"Why don't we charge admission?"
Matt smiled at his young money-mad lover. "Maybe, later on, but for now we are dependant on gifts to promote our trips and our reputation. If this concert goes, I think it will make us noted in college circles, we could even be 'hot'."
"Whoa, Matt, we're already 'hot' and you know it." He turned to Matt, gathered him into his arms, hugging tightly, kissing passionately.
In the great room of Brian Whitlow's log house, he turned to Joey Montoni, "What is your deep down impression of Dr. Ridgway, Joey?"
Joey took a drink of beer, trying to organize his thoughts, "Brian, I believe that he is one of those people in this world that you should know, and know well. He's gorgeous, intelligent, a fine musician, a natural teacher and a wonderful human being. And, I saw that all in a half hour's meeting with him. All right, I saw him for an hour and a half including the Dukes of Windsor fantastic concert. And, I'm told he is gay, but you'd never know it. Even my gaydar was baffled."
Brian sat on the long couch next to his lover, Mike Keith, "Mike, I believe that he is one we should help, maybe in a big way if events turn out well." Brian was thinking about something much larger and very spectacular, but would approach Mike about that later. All Brian's money, the hundreds of millions, was all his, but he still wanted Mike's approval before spending much.
Joey jumped up, "Oh, oh, and I forgot. Hardy wasn't introduced, but I could figure it out, Matt has the hunkiest, most gorgeous young man as his lover, and partner-to-be, I believe. That young man had been beaten up the day before because someone was trying to defeat Matt's musical group, so he would be defeated, too. Hardy's face was all bruised with lesions everywhere so he couldn't play his instrument, but I could see under that damage, that he was a handsome young man. A real catch for anyone."
Mike put his arm around Brian's shoulders and kissed him lightly on his full lips. "Brian, maybe we should wait until they play here, so we can see him in action. I trust Joey's reaction to him, but I do think we should see him ourselves just to be sure."
"Sounds like a reasonable plan. But I still say .......... "
"Brian, I do applaud your suggestion of honoring Bryan Howard by naming the foundation after him. They might as well go ahead, you send them $5000 and we'll talk and think about anything more later. Ok?" Brian nodded and kissed his lover.
Mike pushed him back on the couch, lay on top of him and started to get very passionate with him.
"Oh, jeez, not this again," Joey moaned then yelled, "I'll see you two later. I'm going home where I don't have to watch you two sex gluttons. Anyway, Ben is waiting for me!"
After Joey left and shut the outside door, Mike and Brian broke up, laughing, but still hugging each other. Slowly, they quieted, looked into each other's eyes, blue and brown, Brian said, "Wonder what color eyes our kids would have if we could have kids." He snickered, playfully.
Mike looked serious, then said, "I wonder, why don't we try. Come to bed, my friend."
Christine's plan to seduce Roger was moving with speed. They had three coffee dates, one movie date and twice a visit to her house, the mansion. Roger felt ill ease with Christine, especially after he was in her house and met her parents. 'Man,' he thought, 'She's out of my league, I could never keep up.'
They had held hands, arms around their waists and had kissed some, but no Frenching. Roger liked her, he thought her beautiful, sexy and intelligent, but probably too smart for him. She had a woman's figure, wide hips, narrow waist, full bosom and narrow shoulders. They had always been fully dressed when together.
Two days before the Dukes concert, before Roger knew he would have to play, Christine invited him to her house to help her set up an exercise machine. She told him to dress in old stuff, sweats or something, because the process would probably be dirty. When he got to her house, she also wore sweats and not noticeably anything underneath. Roger wore briefs in order to keep his penis in line, no tenting tonight.
Christine told him her parents had left for the weekend, so they could just go ahead. She brought each of them a cold beer from the refrigerator in the kitchen as they reached the door to the basement. That was no basement Roger had ever seen, completely finished and furnished, a carpeted exercise room with mirrors everywhere and many lights.
In the center of the large room stood a huge box, obviously the machine to be set up. Roger went ahead, got the sides off and found the directions ...... in Japanese.
"Well, Chris, I guess we are on our own, no directions in English. Here goes."
Actually, Chris had been in the box earlier and had hidden the English directions in the tool room desk. She watched Roger carefully, inspected his body closely, knowing he was not a body builder, but was fit with a good shape. Chris made every possible attempt to touch Roger and bump into him as often as she could.
Roger actually completed the construction mostly by himself with no parts left over. He tried out the various methods of exercising on it, occasionally raising his arm high enough to pull his sweatshirt above his waist, enough for Christ to see Roger's abs and belly button. Yes, an innie.
She was sitting on the couch opposite the machine and asked Roger to come over to sit and finish his beer. He sat next to Chris, sweating a bit but not bad. He took the front of his sweatshirt and raised it to wipe his face, exposing practically his whole chest, pretty well developed with nickel-sized nipples, a deep red at the moment.
"Roger, that's great. Now I can exercise whenever I want. And you could come over anytime you want to."
Warning bells rang in Roger's head; he was starting to get nervous about Chris, that she was trying to trap him somehow, to get some hold over him. He wasn't ready for that, at all! He had never been with anyone sexually, female or even male. 'Look out, Rog, you may be in trouble', he thought.
"Thanks for doing that for me, Roger, I sure appreciate it." She leaned over on top of Roger and forced her lips on his, shoving her tongue inside. He more or less went along with her, actually liking the kissing. Eventually she was on top of him as he sat without moving, and she had pushed one leg between his, forcing her crotch onto his thigh and her breasts onto his chest.
Trying to be agreeable with her actions, he embraced her with both arms around her back and waist, rubbing the body he knew was naked underneath. By feeling with her leg, she knew that Roger's cock was big, I could be in trouble if it gets bigger,' she thought.
With a quick movement Christine grabbed her sweatshirt, pulled it over her head and threw it toward the exercise machine. Roger was stunned, aghast at her boldness, wondering just where she was headed. His cock was fully erect, about six inches long and fairly thick, tenting his sweats straight out from his crotch.
Roger stared at Chris's tits, big and full and tipped with large dark nipples, wrinkled with a huge center bulge. They were pert, upright and saucy, no sagging there. He was paralyzed, not knowing what to do, so Chris did it for him. She grabbed his sweatshirt, pulling it over his head as he raised his arms and threw that away. She loved to see the dark hair in his armpits, long and curly and somewhat shiny with the perspiration he had shed.
Now Chris moved up to sit fully on Roger's thighs, putting her hands behind his head while her tits aimed directly into his face, her nipples brushing his lips until he opened his mouth and sucked. Chris was a virgin in every sense, but she was out to remedy that fault in her body, and Roger was going to provide the requisite poker, hard and hot. But she wanted to see it first.
The half naked woman stood up, went to a cupboard in the corner of the room, which Chris opened and took two bottles of beer from it and walked slowly back to Roger. In reality, she slunk back to Roger, her hips waving back and forth, her breasts slightly bouncing as she stepped forward. Roger was sweating more profusely than when he was working, and his breathing was shallow, irregular, 'my god, Rog, you are in for it now, she's going to try to rape you, I know it'. Roger was so embarrassed in this unfamiliar situation; he'd never been naked with any other person, just a shower room full of guys, which meant nothing to him.
Christine gave Roger his beer, set hers on a little table beside the couch and she stood directly in full view of the young man. The fingers of both hands slyly slid beneath the waistband of her sweat pants, and while Roger was hyperventilating, they leisurely curled under and started to pull her pants to the floor. Her pubic hair came into view and the triangle of love, though Roger couldn't see anything there, not much help for him. The sweats continued down her thighs, past her knees, her calves to puddle on her feet.
She smiled at Roger, "Well, Rog, what do you think?"
"Ah ... uh ... ah .... C ... Cris ... Christine, why are you doing this? We've never gotten anywhere near getting naked, man, I don't know about all this.
"Roger, you are seeing me naked, and I want to see you naked. I want to see your penis and your testicles, so take your pants off. I need you, Roger."
"I still don't understand, Chris, why do you need me?"
Chris practically yelled, "Damn it, Rog, I'm a virgin and I don't want to be a virgin any longer. And I want you to make love to me and take my cherry. Then I won't be a virgin anymore."
"But .... but .... Chris, what if I don't want to do that? I really don't think ....."
She pulled Roger onto his feet, grabbed his sweat pants and, before he could stop her, pulled them down his legs to his feet. He was embarrassed, blushing and chagrined in front of this naked woman, him being naked, too, his hard cock sticking straight out toward her. He tried to cover his hard cock with both his hands.
She pushed him down again and sat on his thighs, trying to aim his cock at her pussy. However, Roger was quicker than that, he grabbed his cock and stuck it between his legs even though it was uncomfortable. Chris started crying, settled on his lap and weeping and sobbing like the end of the world, and she was embarrassed then, also.
Finally she stopped weeping; lay against Roger, her head against his, her mouth against one ear. "Roger, oh Roger, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to do that but ... but I got carried away."
"Chris, you just wait and you will find someone whom you love, who will respond to that love. I'm not the man for you, there are too many differences between us."
She kissed Roger lightly on the lips, "You are right. I know it, but I wanted to have you take my virginity. Not anymore, though, I'll wait for that special man." She leaned back a bit, still on Roger's lap, "But, my friend, I would like to see your cock, I've never seen one. Could I please?"
Roger thought, 'Well, what could it hurt, and it is still hard as hell and hurts where it is.'
"Ok, Christine, I guess so since we're already naked. You'll have to lift up so I can get it out."
The young woman moved back onto Roger's knees. Roger could spread his legs a little and his cock popped straight up from his groin, surrounded by his dark, curly pubes, his cockhead bulged, dark red, spongy, though tough.
Chris knelt between Rog's legs, pulling his legs apart more so she could get close to his stiffy, and put one hand on it. "Oh, Roger, it feels so good, so soft, yet hard, velvety skin that moves up and down.
Once Chris put her hand on his cock, Roger's erotic excitement went off the scale, his body shivering and jerking, especially when she started to jack him off.
"What are you doing, Chris?"
"Isn't that alright? I read a book about this once, I wanted to masturbate you. Oh, what do you guys call it, jack up?"
He laughed, "Usually we say jack off, or beat off, or beat our meat or spank the monkey. If you were English, you would say have a 'wank'. Someday that might help you with 'the' man."
"Whatever," she giggled, "I'll just do what I can."
Roger decided he'd let her, but he'd lie down on the couch, where he'd be nowhere near her cunt and an unlikely but accidental conception. He didn't know much about conception, but wasn't about to take chances.
"Ok, Chris, go ahead, but remember the penis is a tender and very sensitive organ which can be hurt, just take it easy."
"First, what's this stuff coming out of the hole, is it piss?"
"No, Chris, that's called precum, a lubricant and neutralizer, it has no sperm in it."
Chris rubbed the precum around Rog's cockhead, not knowing how excited that makes a man, and Roger was getting very excited, his load gathering strength to shoot soon.
"Ouch, Chris. Not so hard. I'll get rug burn."
"Sorry," She eased her grip, "Is this better?"
"Yes," Roger sighed, a little worried about the survival of his precious penis.
Her hand felt great on his cock, she loved the feeling. Then she could tell that the cock was getting bigger, especially the cockhead, and Roger was jerking around, shaking his pelvis and pumping it up and down.
"Chris, I'm gonna shoot .... shoot ... please, don't stop, aim it toward my chest ... it's cumming, here it is ... he groaned and stiffened all his muscles, tight as the cock shot stream after stream from the cock to Rog's chest, even up to his neck. The semen puddled between his pecs, white and lumpy, some bits rather clear, and more landed in his innie belly button.
"Ok, Chris, stop, stop - I get ultra sensitive there after I shoot, it hurts." Roger quickly used both hands to rub all the semen into his skin, even that in his innie. He didn't know how much Christine knew about sperm, but didn't want any running around loose to get into trouble. He knew he was naive and innocent, but loved his first sex with another person, someone else's hand on his cock, the first since his mother last washed him about fifteen years before.
Chris let go, then stood up. She slyly licked her hand where some semen had landed and swallowed Roger saw that and sure hoped his knowledge was correct, no way to get pregnant.
Roger was red all over, still shivering and jerking, but he stood, too, in front of Christine, "Chris, I will dream about this probably my whole life. I would sincerely like to just hold you, just as we are, naked as babes. I do love you, you know, as a wonderful person and good friend." They closed and met, front to front, breasts to breasts, belly to belly, cock to vagina. His still hard and long cock slid between her thighs, feeling the closeness around him. He clutched her buttocks, kneading them, soft yet tough, knowing their sensitivity as his own.
Chris followed his movements, imitating him, enjoying the feel of his body, strong yet such soft skin. They stayed that way, caressing each other for five to ten minutes.
"Christine, I should go. You must understand I never expected anything like what happened, though it was all right with me. But, not again. I hope you will still be my friend. We will certainly understand each other a lot better than before. " He grinned at her, "And I've never had a better ejaculation, thank you." He laughed and kissed her gently, and feeling guilty because he had lied about the better ejaculation to make her feel better. Damn near killed his most valued cock.
"I'm happy, if you are happy, Roger, I'm sorry if I presumed too much. We'll be very good friends, Roger, from now on."
They broke apart and put their clothes back on, giggling at each other as they did, saying they'd never forget seeing the other as they had that evening, both feeling that they were the lucky one.
Roger went back to his dorm room, aiming to go to sleep even though it was a bit early. Stripped to his boxer-briefs, he lay on his bed under the sheet, almost in a fetal position, his hands shoved between his thighs in his crotch, holding his bulge in his fingers. He wondered at a vision he just had, then another thought, then back to his first conception. What if there had been a big hard cock between her legs instead of a vagina? What would he have done? Or even more daring, what if she had been a strong man, well built with a fully erected cock, pulsing and deep red with a large, spongy cockhead at the point. Again, what would he have done? Then, he realized that the strong man he visualized looked an awful lot like Hardy Wolfe.
He noticed that his cock had grown fiercely hard and hot, pounding with blood and sex.
Now Roger was scared, what was he thinking about? Was he .... could he be .... he sure didn't want to be .... uh .... oh jeez, he cried, he was so scared that he might be .... he whispered to himself, ..... gay? He began to sob, tears pouring from his eyes, his breathing in gasps, then coughing deep in his lungs. 'Oh God, please, please don't let me be gay'. What would become of me if I were?
Roger finally cried himself to sleep, exhausted and still petrified from his vision.
The next morning after depositing his manuscript and notes in the bank, and after he had talked to Brian Whitlow, Matt was at the college early, waiting to get in to see Dr. McAllister, Dean of the College of Arts and Sciences.
When Matt was admitted, he asked the Dean if he could tell him something in complete privacy. "Sir, I hope that if what I tell you can't be kept private, you will at least forget everything I've said."
The Dean thought a moment, 'Ok, Matt, I'll keep your privacy. If you go past the point where I can't do that, I will tell you as soon as I realize it."
Matt smiled, "A good political answer, sir, we'll do fine. And what I'm going to say will be completely hypothetical." He rolled his eyes as he said that.
"I'm glad, Matt, I want us to be a team for a long, long time."
"Ok, sir." He hesitated, "Say I have found a source of funds for the Dukes of Windsor. What I'm primarily thinking about is traveling and touring with the group. I know we don't have the money for that, so I've been looking around." He wondered just how far to go. 'Well, in for a penny, in for a pound', he thought to himself. Old saws never die.
"First, if I get someone to give us money, say $5000, the donor would like to receive a deduction on taxes for that gift, which would mean that the donation would have to be made to the college. Right?"
"Right."
"Ok. Now, what are the chances that the Dukes would receive benefit of all of that $5000 if it were contributed to the college."
Dean McAllister considered the problem. "I honestly don't know, Matt. I would hope all of it, but you understand college politics somewhat. I could give you no guarantee. I'm sorry."
"Ok, Sir, let me give you an alternative. What if we set up a memorial fund dedicated to some ancient music prof, which funds would benefit the music department and were administered by an associate professor, namely me. How about that?"
"Matt, we'll have to find a lawyer for a ruling. I still don't know. I wouldn't want to ask any of the college lawyers, either."
"Wait a minute, Dean, what if you had a college fund named for the honorable department head, H. Gordon Powers, in recognition of his imminent retirement as the longtime head of Music here at Windsor. And that of course would include myself as administrator of the fund." He thought of something, "No, that won't work. He might think it was for his retirement."
Dean McAllister snickered, "Yes, you might be right. Well, Matt, there was the founding professor of the department back in 1920, Dr. Jason W. Wheelright, a noted scholar at the time but not much of a musician. Would that do?"
"That's the best yet, Dean, we can go with that, I think." Matt waved his arm around at the stacks of books in the Dean's office, "Are there any rules or regulations that might touch on memorial funds, donated by alumni or sponsors."
Dean McAllister stood, considered the position, then walked to bookshelves with huge tomes in dark bindings, and after reading the spines, pulled out a new-looking one to his desk. "Matt, just last year the trustees ordered a codification of the college's various rules and amendments, to bring everything up to date, deleting any anachronistic or useless ones."
He searched a bit, found the passage and began reading.
"Any alumni or worthy donor may found a memorial fund honoring a previous faculty member, which said fund can be designated for any purpose in the college life, individuals or group or groups. Said funds could not be used for any other purpose other than that stated in the description. The donor must designate an administrator to direct the assignment of funds for the intended purpose."
"That's it, Matt, we can do that. Let me get my secretary in here." He buzzed Miss Brooks who was sitting in his office within a minute. He looked at her and said, "I would like you to record the following information, type out a resolution which I will sign and put into effect immediately."
Dean McAllister dictated to her exactly what Matt told him about the fund. He was particularly interested to hear the name of the donor. Brian Whitlow had absolutely no meaning to him, he'd never heard of him.
"Dean, Mr. Whitlow wants positively no publicity about this donation. He means it and I agree, no publicity. You don't know him, but I know he is extremely wealthy, extremely, believe me. If we are careful with this donation, we might be able to expect some really huge donations, think in the upper tens of millions. Please don't write his name down anywhere, Dean, please. I promised him."
"When I was talking to Mr. Whitlow, he suggested naming the fund The Bryan Howard Foundation Fund. That you can publicize all you want. The late Bryan Howard was a childhood friend of Congressman Mike Keith, had a troubled life, but reconciled before he died. That part of this deal must remain between us."
Matt and the Dean talked about the department, suggestions for new directions to upgrade the whole area of music degrees, especially in the realm of computer music development. That should interest many music students.
Miss Brooks entered and laid the completed Foundation statements, just as he had suggested. Dean McAllister signed the document and had Matt sign as the Foundation Administrator.
"There you go, Matt, signed, sealed and delivered. How's that for service?"
"Super, now I'll tell Mr. Whatsis that he can send the check to me, made out to Windsor College which I will convey to you. Thank you so much, sir."
"No, thank you, Matt, the gift will be a big help for and for our college."
Write to Paul at dukesofwindsor@juno.com
Turning The Page
Some characters in this story have been drawn from my first book, Turning The Page, Nifty/Adult Friends/August 13, 2002. It is not necessary to read that book first, but it would give you a background for The Dukes and Duchess of Windsor.