Somerset Farm 

                                                                                        by Jamie Haze

 

 Chapter 21


The Mercedes limo followed by the Suburban, drove
through the private hanger out to the waiting jet on
the airside. The boys, roughly divided between the
vehicles, boiled out of the passenger doors and headed
for the boarding steps. They ogled the sleek
Challenger, nearly seventy feet of speed and luxury.

"I borrowed THIS?" Doug asked Buck with a giggle. He
stopped at the foot of the steps and blocked the
others. "You guys wipe your fucking feet before you
board, I have to return it clean, or I'm off to
Bucky's meat grinder," he joked.

"Hold on there lads!" Patrick roared at them from the
rear of the Suburban. "There be a matter of gettin'
the luggage aboard. Any as can't help, can stay home,
an' that includes you Master Buckminster!" Patrick
fended off two workers dressed in jumpsuits who were
obviously responsible for loading the luggage. "Just
show `em where you want it," he told the workers,
"that lot is needin' to burn off a bit o' energy
before the flight."

Buck frowned up at Patrick as Patrick loaded him with
two bags and one of Marc's camera equipment cases.
"Please Patrick, quit calling me Buckminster, I hate
that name. Can't you just call me Buck? You call my
father Bucky." He pointed out hopefully.

"Aye, I do, because he ordered me to an' near scared
the shit out o' me in the process. You Buckminster,
don't scare me an' there be a need for a bit o'
formality in the household now and then. I'll be
callin' you as ye please when ye' be settin' at the
head o' the table. Now be off with ye'." Patrick
dismissed Buck and started loading up Marc.

After takeoff, the pretty young stewardess offered
them refreshments. She was particularly friendly with
Joe, Will, Paul and Morgan because they were older.
Patrick decreed that morning that everyone was to be
on his best behavior, there was to be no fooling
around in public and an absolute minimum of foul
language when anyone else outside the group was around
them. He further insisted that all of them would dress
as young gentlemen for the trip AND stay dressed
during the flight, so everyone reluctantly wore long
pants, collared shirts, neckties properly tied with
collar buttons buttoned and even jackets.

Peter unbuckled his seat belt and stretched his body
out in a soft leather recliner. He paused to really
look at the buckle ends, then at Buck who was busy
trying to get one of the twins to hold his hand and
surreptitiously get him hard without Patrick taking
notice. Peter was still suffering from recurring bouts
of culture shock. First there was the Trenton duplex
penthouse, then the helicopter, then Trenton Hall,
Buck's house. He was just getting used to keeping his
mouth shut when his new schoolmates took him to
workout in the Wilcott field house. Now he was sitting
in a private jet, not the biggest in the Trenton air
fleet, just mid size, but long range, capable of
leaving Newark International and landing at Oakland
non stop.

"Hey Buck are these buckles brass or gold?" Peter
asked, already sure of Buck's answer.

Buck frowned at Peter, unhappy that he'd gotten
Patrick's attention with the question. Toby pulled his
hand away and stuffed it in his pants pocket in an
effort to tip over his clearly pointing tent pole.
Buck covered his with his jacket. "They're both
jerkwad, the gold is plated on brass. If you're
looking for souvenirs, snatch the bathroom hardware I
think that's all solid ten-carat, but I could be
wrong," he answered sourly.

Peter persisted in his amazement. "Damn this jet must
have cost as much as your house."

Patrick arched an eyebrow in Buck's direction, made
fists of his hands, then twisted them at Buck and
mouthed the word, `apologize', then dropped his gaze
to Buck's crotch meaningfully while the stewardess'
back was turned.

Buck grinned at Patrick, winced and smiled at Peter.
"I'm sorry Pete, but you've got to get over looking at
everything as if you were with Internal Revenue. Just
chill and enjoy yourself. For the record, this thing
cost around twenty. The house wasn't that much yet but
the field house could put it up there fast."

Doug watched the interaction between Buck and Patrick
and covered his mouth to giggle when Buck pulled his
jacket tighter, thereby further revealing his boner.
Buck scratched the side of his nose with his middle
finger while grinning at Doug and decided to change
the subject. "You've sure been in a good mood lately.
Any particular reason?" Buck already knew the reason,
but knew that Doug enjoyed telling and retelling the
story.


As soon as Bucky left Buck's apartment after they all
looked at Marc's video and photos, he drove to
Wilcott's. Marc made a copy of the video and Bucky and
John Wilcott went to see Doug's father Bill. They
showed him the tape. Like Doug, Bill immediately
started pointing out small movements in Doug's stroke
and kick that could be improved on or corrected to
make Doug more fluid and likely faster in competition.

Bucky and John related Doug's comments and ongoing
disappointment that his father never seemed to have
the time to coach him properly and really missed the
small amount of input he offered when he did find time
to be at pool side when his son practiced. They told
Bill very simply that becoming Doug's coach on a
regular basis would be a first step in reconciling
their differences and perhaps Bill's only opportunity.

Martha Henderson agreed and after administering a hard
elbow in husband's side, suggested; "If you aren't
comfortable in the guestroom now, all you have to do
is refuse to do this for our son, you'll find yourself
sleeping on the sofa in your office. When I packed
Doug's things to send to Trenton's, I found some
pornography, just magazines. I sent them along as
well. This didn't just happen to him overnight. He's
wrestled with this secret for I don't know how long.
Our son is gay, get over it and start coaching him
starting tomorrow morning, or I promise to have YOUR
things packed by noon."

Bill didn't answer. He got up, rubbed his bruised ribs
and began unplugging cables from the TV and VCR.
Without looking at anyone, he asked quietly, "Could
you guys give me a hand lugging this stuff to my
truck? I guess we'll need it at the pool." After they
finished, he looked at John, "Will your son be
available to take more of these videos for us? These
tapes will be invaluable training tools."

John laughed and nodded, "Just try to stop him from
using a camera."

When Doug walked into the pool area the next morning,
the first thing he saw was the TV sitting on a folding
table by the locker room door playing Marc's video.
Though his attention was instantly riveted to his
father, standing nervously by the TV, waiting to see
Doug's reaction to his unexpected presence.

Doug froze in his tracks, just inside the door. The
other guys clustered around him. Talking and laughing
ceased. Patrick walked behind everyone like a mother
hen, or good shepherd, and when he looked up, saw the
TV, the stranger who strongly resembled Doug, and
Doug's reaction, he started turning the others with a
hand on their shoulders. "I be callin' a meetin' lads,
outside, for five minutes or so." After everyone but
Doug was back outside, he bowed to Bill, winked,
smiled and kicked the doorstop so the door swung
closed.

Bill nodded to his son looking hopeful. Doug nodded
back. "Hi," he hesitated, then added, "Dad." He smiled
tentatively, "What are you doing here?"

"I ah, well Bucky and John dropped this tape off last
night and asked me to take a look at it. These
underwater shots are fantastic. They thought I might
be able to offer some suggestions if I noticed
anything you could maybe improve on. I, well, studied
it after they left and well I noticed some little
things that might give you a couple of hundredths
edge, so I thought I'd stop in and just tell you this
morning." Bill's hopeful look returned.

Doug saw immediately that his father was dressed in
his favorite old bathing suit and ancient University
tank top that was full of holes caused by spilled
battery acid. His feet were bare, but his most
comfortable jap flaps were discarded under the table.
His father was obviously not planning to go to his
office after he left the Oaks pool. "Didn't you mean
show me?" Doug's smile broadened.

Bill looked flustered. "Pardon?"

Doug pointed, "You brought a TV and VCR along to show
me, not tell me what I could be doing better." He
glanced at the big wall clock. "Aren't you going to
work today? It's only ten o'clock in the morning."

"I well, thought I'd just take the day off, some time
off actually, and since I'm free, maybe spend some
more time with you, you know, coaching you."

Doug frowned. He answered quietly, carefully making
eye contact, "What about my being gay? That hasn't
changed and it isn't going to. These guys," He tossed
his thumb over his shoulder before he looked back and
noticed that he and his father were alone. "The guys
with me are all gay. Maybe we're magnets for each
other I don't know. If you coach me, and I'd like
that, I, that is we, swim naked mostly and you might
see, no check that, I guarantee you'll see some
fooling around. Can you deal with it, like ignore the
goofing off with each other?" Bill started to answer,
but Doug waved him to silence. "What I'm saying is in
here, and in private anywhere, we need to be
ourselves, no pretense, no secrets, none, not any
more. Are you cool with that?"

Bill frowned and shrugged helplessly. "I honestly
don't know," he said quietly, "but I'll damn sure try
to be. I'm really sorry I was such an asshole the
other night. You dropped that on me out of the blue. I
was shocked and disappointed, I never dreamed that you
were." He stopped, unable to say the word.

Doug glared at his father. "SAY IT!" He shouted.

"Gay." Bill answered softly, looking at his feet. He
looked up, "GAY!" he repeated so it echoed around the
room.

"OKAY!" Doug shouted back and started laughing. He
walked up to his father and offered his hand. The
handshake degenerated into a bear hugging contest in
which neither contestant, father nor son wanted to
win, or give up. "Are you really going to coach me, ER
I mean us? There's the twins now, you haven't met them
yet and of course Buck. He's going to try diving, but
I think he's good enough for swimming varsity here and
he's a fast learner." Words poured from Doug
uncontrollably while he stripped to his little Speedo.
He walked to the door and pushed it open. "Hey guys,
what the fuck are you doing out here? The water's
inside and we're wasting time." He stood by the door
and introduced each guy to his father and coach, Bill
Henderson.

Buck and Patrick were last. Bill grinned at Patrick
and cranked his arm. "Doug's spoken of you often at
home. It's a pleasure to meet you at last." While Bill
chatted with Patrick, Buck slipped by them, stripped
to his suit, then folded himself into a ball on the
most distant starting block out of the way. The noise
level rose as the other guys worked with Marc to get
him ready to slip into and under the water with his
cameras. Doug's eyes stayed on Buck, who managed to
look like a beaten puppy. Doug started to walk toward
him, but his father stopped him with a hand on his
shoulder and went to talk with Buck by himself.

Bill sat down on the tiled floor so Buck looked down
on him. "Buck? I apologize for all the things I said
to you the other night. I was hurt. I needed to blame
anyone but Doug for his being gay, or thinking he was.
You were there, so I picked on you and I'm truly sorry
for that. Can you forgive me, not right now, but in
time? I love my son and I was trying to find reasons
to excuse him for his actions. Hurting you lessened my
hurt."

Buck looked down on Bill for the first time, then up
at Doug, who was nervously bustling around, carefully
not looking in their direction, hoping that Buck would
accept his father's apology. "He's beautiful to watch
isn't he? He's smart and funny and sometimes he bosses
me around like he was my father," Buck looked down on
Bill again, meeting his eyes. "Or my husband," he
concluded softly. "We love each other. I know we're
just kids, teenagers, but we do, really." Buck took a
deep breath and smiled at Bill. "Say, if you and your
wife aren't busy tonight, would you like to come over
to our house for dinner? Douggie really misses his mom
as much as he did you."

Bill did not miss the emphasis Buck placed on the word
`our', and realized for the first time that he'd lost
his only son to Buck, another teen. Doug would never
move back home, he couldn't, there was no going back
to the way things were before. He hoped that Buck and
Doug would be happy with each other for as long as the
relationship lasted. He also suddenly regretted that
he hadn't spent more time with Doug, and began to look
forward to other invitations to dinners, parties and
perhaps even vacations together.

Buck smiled openly, got down off his perch and offered
his hand to Bill to help him stand. It seemed to Bill
that Buck read his mind. "Don't worry, he'll be happy.
I'd kill to keep him happy no matter what."

Bill nodded, "I'm sure you would Buck. What time for
dinner tonight?" He asked and put a tentative hand on
Buck's shoulder. Buck reached up and patted Bill's
hand reassuringly, as if he was the adult and Bill the
teenager.

Practice got underway. Bill was accepted as the boys'
coach after they reviewed Marc's tape frame by frame.
He began making suggestions to the twins separately,
until he noticed that their movements in the water
were as identical as their physical appearance. Doug
laughingly explained their telepathic abilities
between each other, but as he and Buck promised them,
he kept their unique bedroom powers a secret.

Patrick gave up protesting that he was too old for any
of the boys after he found himself sucked, literally
and figuratively into their first foursome. After that
amazing experience, he allowed them to just bring him
along with them to climax first. Then he began to make
sure he was touching one of the twins during their
other bouts at the end, the moment of truth, after
that, regardless of the number or frequency of those
exquisitely exciting thruths'. As a result, he felt
younger and even thought he looked younger and his
energy level seemed to be boundless. Of course he also
never slept better when the lads allowed him to sleep
between bouts, or through one or more if they took
pity on him. He hovered near Bill and hung on every
bit of advise or helpful hint, so by the end of the
first practice, he could at least talk swimming as if
he actually knew how.

Marc gave Peter a crash course in photography early
that morning so Peter could photograph Doug when he
was out of the water, and wearing a suit since he
would be busy in and under the water doing the same
thing. Marc's instructions were simple; burn film, go
for quantity and screw quality. Peter discovered he
liked photography and quickly became as obnoxious as
Marc could be in his never ending quest for the one
perfect photo.

Marc quickly filled the card in his digital camera
snapping Doug doing different strokes and from
assorted angles. As soon as Doug saw him surface with
that outfit, and place it carefully on the deck, he
called a halt long enough to pull his suit off and
toss it to Patrick. Buck and the twins followed his
example, while Marc didn't even think about bringing a
suit to take off. Patrick waved his collection of
Speedo suits like trophies at Bill, who did a bit of
blinking. Bill tried, but couldn't remember the last
time he saw his son naked, but he discovered he had to
agree with Buck that he was beautiful to watch and
took great pride in the fact that his son was
extremely well endowed.

Doug climbed to a starting block and stretched with
his hands over his head. His torso curved backward at
an impossible angle and his pelvis thrust forward.
Marc was just guiding his video camera under and had
his mouthpiece in place when he saw the potential
shot. He waved his free hand frantically and started
to sputter and choke attempting to get Peter's
attention, until he saw Peter standing behind Patrick
at the corner of the pool, look up, raise his camera
and nudge Patrick out of his line of fire. There was
an unexpected splash when Patrick hit the water
already pin wheeling his arms, swimming futilely
through the air. Peter ignored him and managed six
frames of Doug.

One of Patrick's hands caught the lip of the pool as
he sank and he was able to reverse course and pull
himself back up, then vault to the deck exactly as
he'd seen the boys do repeatedly. Peter's view of Doug
was blocked suddenly by a close up of one very red
faced dripping irate Irishman. Peter started to giggle
and back away simultaneously out of Patrick's reach.
When Patrick continued to advance on him, he turned
and started running for the exit door with Patrick in
hot pursuit screaming in a mixture of Gaelic and
English so only words like `kill', `strangle' and
`bloody' were clear to everyone above their laughter.

Peter decided that the door's panic bar was aptly
named as he ran outside laughing and shouting for
mercy over his shoulder. Patrick screeched to a halt
at the doorway and started laughing himself when Peter
crashed into Will and Joe on the sidewalk because he
wasn't watching where he was going. The partners
carried Peter between them back to Patrick, holding
him by his upper arms so his feet dangled. That was
about the time a small group of students gathered to
watch whatever was happening and Peter realized that
he was outside the building, helpless and naked except
for Marc's camera, and that wouldn't offer much cover
even if he could get free of Will and Joe.

Peter apologized to Patrick for a solid minute without
repeating himself before Patrick was satisfied,
ordered him freed and allowed back inside as long as
he didn't touch a camera for the rest of the practice.
Failure to comply with the sentence, Patrick warned,
would result in a one way trip to the meat grinder.

Bill and the boys were grouped around Patrick watching
the fun. Bill asked Doug about the meat grinder. Doug
giggled, shrugged and explained laughing that Bucky
was really the boss of bosses in the business and
under worlds. He told his father they joked that Bucky
had a big one in the basement and used it from time to
time if he really got upset with someone as a sort of
ultimate solution, kind of like the infamous boogie
man; often threatened but never seen or used. Everyone
laughed at Doug's explanation, even Will and Joe, but
theirs was slightly forced and they were careful to
avoid looking at each other until practice resumed.

Bill ended the session at twelve forty-five when his
stomach started to growl. He invited everyone to lunch
at a local eatery that thrived on business from the
school as well as huge burgers and giant servings of
everything else. Doug was pleased to see that his
father barely glanced at the total before paying the
bill.


"So anyway," Doug concluded his ongoing story of how
he and his father were developing a new and even
closer relationship, "now we're really friends. I
still can't quite believe it, but I sure am enjoying
it. You should have seen his disappointment when I
told him we were going to California for the weekend,
so there wouldn't be any practice." He patted his rear
pants pocket and giggled. "He gave me a credit card to
pay the airfare and when I pointed to Buck and
explained about this plane, he told me to keep it
anyway and not be afraid to use it for walking around
money since it was mine."

Doug told them that when his father first
incorporated, the stock wasn't worth zilch. His father
created a joint trust with he and his mother as
beneficiaries, so now that Henderson Constructors was
international, and ballistically successful, Doug
didn't need to feel like a poor relative while staying
with Buck and his parents because he could pay his own
way.

When Doug showed Bucky the golden plastic, he smiled.
"Just be sure you never embarrass me by trying to use
it," Bucky warned him quietly with the look in his
eyes that announced that he was very serious.

While Doug talked, Will sat quietly in front of a
laptop working on something the boys couldn't see. Joe
leaned in close to watch the screen. Since their
promotions, they'd become more distant, still friendly
but busier with cell phones and Will's laptop as the
transition from bodyguards to chief executives become
more intense. Will sifted through the personnel files
of the agency they once worked for. George supplied
valid clearances and access codes, as well as their
source, so the agency's entire database would always
be available to them at any time. They were browsing
the files to find their own replacements as bodyguards
for Buck and Doug.

Joe touched his neck, then started talking to himself
as he grinned at the twins. "YES! Okay, that's great,
email it, we're online now. Thanks." He turned his
head to look at a bank of electronics equipment built
into the wood paneled bulkhead.

The boys looked at Joe like he was nuts until Paul
giggled. "He's wearing an ear bud, talking on his damn
phone," he explained when he saw the wire.

Sheets of paper started falling into a tray attached
to the printer. Joe read the printouts while Will read
the same information on the screen. Joe giggled and
clapped Will on the back, then got up and walked to
the twins sitting together with Buck on a sofa and
handed them the papers. "This information should end
all your problems with your father, and your
stepmother, who isn't." He told them cryptically,
between giggles.

Terry and Buck leaned into Toby to read the single
spaced information. When they finished, the twins
looked puzzled. "What's this mean? It says here that
our father is married to someone named Susan. Our
mother's name was Teresa and they were married at the
ranch near San Diego not in Los Angeles. They weren't
eighteen, they were in their twenties. Sorry none of
this makes sense." Toby declared wearing a confused
frown which Terry mirrored.

Buck snatched the email and waved it around. "Sure it
does. Susan is your father's wife, if I read this
right. Not his first wife, his wife, still. They never
got divorced."

Joe saw the twins' frown deepen. "Look guys, your
father, Kevin and this girl Susan were both eighteen
when they met each other and got married because Susan
got pregnant. She miscarried, and your dad split for
parts unknown. They both wanted to be movie stars.
Susan now sells real estate in L.A. and still uses her
married name, Susan Fair because she never bothered to
get a divorce. She's legally your father's wife. His
marriage to your mother wasn't legal and still isn't."

Terry jumped up, his face turned ominous. "So we're
bastards? Is that what you're saying? Man when Gramps
finds out, if he doesn't kill him. Shit, we'll do it
ourselves! The sonofabitch!"

"Bastard is kind of archaic, sons of a single parent
sounds better." Joe offered to calm the twins down.
"Your mother didn't know she wasn't married to him, so
she's blameless."

"On the brighter side," Will interjected, "I'm not a
lawyer, but I doubt if he has any claim on your
mother's estate so everything she left him should fall
to you as next of kin. Your grandfather will probably
get custody of you guys as well, since being a father
from a jail cell is difficult."

Terry grinned suddenly. "Yeah Toby. Think about it, if
the prick wasn't married to Mother, then he sure as
shit isn't married to the bitch either. Man I sure
want to be there when she finds out."

Toby giggled and nodded his head, "Even better, we
should be the ones to lay the news on them both." Toby
sank to his knees laughing. "I know, let's get her an
employment application from Wal-Mart and tell her to
dust off her little blue vest."

Buck smiled at the twins. He was happy for then, but
also disappointed. "I guess this means you guys won't
be rooming with us. That's too bad."

Patrick nodded. He wasn't smiling. "Aye it is, but
you'll be visitin' with us from time to time won't ye
now?"

Doug looked up and frowned at the twins, then at Buck.
"Hey that's right." He moaned, "Damn Buck, you get me
in trouble without trying. Now what are we going to do
with the extra room? I told the contractor to cut the
doorway into the bathroom. The shit is going to hit
the fan big time when the school finds out."

Doug was with Buck when he met the general contractor
to have their room and bathroom remodeled, and when
Buck saw how interested Doug was in the project, he
told the builder to do whatever Doug wanted. They had
already invited the twins to room with them and they
accepted gladly. At first Doug and Buck shrugged off
the possibility of over crowding, before Doug got
inspired.

"Since the twins are entitled to the room their
grandfather paid for, let's make the one on the other
side of the bathroom into our study. That will get rid
of all our desks and school shit and we'll have plenty
of room for six in the bedroom. All we need to do is
chop through the wall into the bathroom and presto, we
have a suite." He explained to Buck and the
contractor, who hovered around them, anxious to please
Bucky by doing whatever his son wanted as he was
instructed.

"Wait a minute," the twins said together. Toby
continued, "We like this school since we met you guys.
It's going to take some time to get this mess
straightened out, and we have to go to school
somewhere, so it may as well be Oaks. Hopefully we'll
get off restriction, and Gramps can visit us too." He
blushed with Terry, and glanced at Peter and Marc.
"Besides we want to be your roommates."

Marc balked. "Roommates? You can't be. I mean it
wouldn't work. You know about us that's fine, live and
let live," he pontificated, "but there's no way we
need an audience." He frowned and looked at Buck, then
Doug, who along with the twins grinned back at him.
"Wait just a fu. ER, damn minute," he amended after a
glance at Patrick. "Is there something going on here
that Pete and I, and the rest of us don't know about?"

Buck giggled, negating his headshake. "It was going to
be a surprise, the roommate part, and I guess the
other part too."

"Yeah," Doug agreed, "there won't be any audiences."

Patrick cleared his throat noisily, as the stewardess
appeared to refill drinks.

Will covered the sudden silence with an announcement.
"Well we've got four likely candidates for our jobs.
Joe and I will interview them after we get back. One
is away on assignment, so you'll have substitutes for
a couple of days next week. No tricks with them either
okay? It's important." He looked at Buck.

"What are you looking at me for?" Buck asked and
looked offended. He elbowed Doug. "You heard that
didn't you, you trouble maker. Behave next week while
you have an innocent bodyguard around. I'll be in New
York, so no horsing around at practice." He giggled,
waiting for Doug to retaliate.

"ME?" Doug asked while he sent his elbow into Buck's
ribs, then followed that up by getting Buck in a
headlock and pulling him down to the carpet. They
started to wrestle.

Patrick rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. There was
too much teenage energy packed in the jet to expect
that they all could remain on good behavior for the
entire flight. The wrestling match became a tag team
bout when Marc and Peter, then the twins joined the
melee. Paul and Morgan stayed seated, but used their
feet to keep anyone from getting and keeping an
advantage for long. The stewardess appeared and looked
suitably helpless. She looked at Patrick and pointed
to one of the flashing fasten seat belt indicators
around the cabin before she fled to the galley.

Patrick remained seated and watched the boys wrestle
each other. He was wearing a well-tailored Italian
designer suit and glittering wing tip shoes, and was
not about to get involved. He was able to referee by
watching faces. Whenever one of the boys even thought
about applying a cock lock or nut crusher hold, the
would be guilty contestant sneaked a peek in his
direction to see if he was watching. Eye to eye
contact with Patrick was sufficient deterrent.

"Enough gentlemen." Patrick said quietly. "We be
landin' soon." The boys separated, stood up and began
to straighten their clothing before they found their
seats again. Patrick shook his head sadly. "Just look
at yourselves. Ye look like road menders or rag
pickers not the scions o' wealth. Off to the restrooms
with ye an' freshen up." The boys turned obidiently to
obey as a group. He saw the suggestive furtive looks
they traded with each other. "Hold on there lads. I'm
hopin' ye don't take me self for no dumb Englishman. I
overheard whispers about somethin' ye called a mile
high club. There'll be no new members joinin' on this
fine craft this day. Ye go by twos an' plan on
separatin' at the doors to the facilities."

"Come on Patrick," Buck begged with a grin, "there's
still plenty of time."

"As may be, but not on this flight. Now off with ye."

Buck and Doug were closest, so they went first. When
they returned, sat together on a sofa and buckled up,
Patrick eyed them critically across the cabin. He
frowned at Doug. "WHAT?" Doug asked and ran his
fingers through his red-gold curls a second time. "You
know it won't stay combed. I can't help it."

Patrick smiled and shook his head. "That's not it lad.
I was just thinkin' ye need to stand a wee bit closer
to your razor of a mornin', I believe I see a four
o'clock shadow on your chin, and it's not but
noontime."

Doug raised his fingers to his face. His smile was ear
to ear. "REALLY?" He asked, astounded and pleased that
his beard was visible just as Patrick knew he would
be. Any mention of visible facial hair was to Doug, a
fifteen-year-old redhead, the ultimate in compliments.

Buck winked at Patrick and reached up to feel Doug's
chin. "Yup, and scratchy too." He giggled then lowered
his voice. "You just better shave everyday from now on
Mister, or no nooky for you."

Doug laughed and answered in a loud whisper. "I was
going to, then, as usual, I got busy with other
things. You just start leaving me alone when I'm in
front of the damn mirror and I will."

"Stop laying that," Buck pointed to Doug's lap, "on
the damn counter so its looking at me in the mirror
and I will."

Unlike Buck's, Doug's cock didn't hang or droop. It
just wilted after use to about four inches and stood
out from his body about fifteen degrees below
horizontal. After he grew tall enough, he got into the
habit of laying his cock on the counter so he could
lean forward to the basin and mirror with his thighs
pressing the edge.

If he pushed it down it tended to get in the way of
the drawer pulls and/or the painfully sharp underside
counter edge. After he and Buck started grooming
together the habit continued. Buck found Squinty's
vertical stares distracting, especially if it was
crying a residual tear or two, which he thought
reflected badly on his lovemaking techniques. Since
the rule; `no waste', always applied, so too did;
`don't miss any'. Buck always felt duty bound to
interrupt his own personal hygiene chores and re-clean
`their' cock, inside and out. This kindness always
claimed all of Doug's attention since he was reluctant
to risk cutting his own throat by attempting to shave
while getting a bonus morning head job.

Buck and Doug's discussion ended when the Challenger's
wheels touched the runway with a slight thump and
bump. Buck nodded to Patrick and grinned. Doug looked
to see Patrick's fingers clutching the arms of his
seat so hard his knuckles were white. "He told me
flying was not his favorite means of transportation."
Doug whispered.

Buck twisted his head to look out the window and shook
Doug's arm to get his attention. "Hey look at those
fire trucks racing us. Boy the firemen must sure get
bored. They should have waited for something a little
smaller and slower." He saw Patrick straining within
the confines of his seat belt to look out the window
with his worried face as white as his knuckles. Buck
giggled, "Sorry Patrick, I was just kidding about the
fire trucks, we're doing fine, you can relax."

Patrick scowled, "I be lookin' at someone smaller and
slower than me self when this thing stops an' I lay
hands on yourself, Master Buckminster." He warned,
before he relaxed and smiled. "I greatly enjoy the
middle part, it be the gettin' up there, then back to
the Mother Earth that be a wee bit stressful." The
stewardess opened the hatch. The whine of the motor
lowering the steps was reassuring.

The twins were the first to stand up and start dancing
in eager anticipation of seeing their grandfather. The
Challenger was parked in front of a private aircraft
service and fueling company hanger, snuggled between
other recent arrivals, both jet and prop planes,
though theirs was the king of the private aircraft
parked there at that moment. It was clear to everyone
that the twins' private communication system had
ceased to operate as they scrambled, pushing and
shoving each other to get to the open hatch at the
front of the plane. They stopped at the foot of the
steps and looked around. The others joined them. They
started walking as a unit toward the double glass
doors at one side of the hanger where they could see
people milling around, watching them.

Patrick stopped them with a few quiet words. "There be
luggage gentlemen." The boys, except for Toby and
Terry retraced their steps the get their bags. Joe and
Will joined the twins, unobtrusively placing
themselves between their charges and the building.

"Maybe he's late." Marc suggested quietly to the
others so the twins couldn't hear him. "Did you get us
a car?" He asked Buck.

"Nope, Toby said his grandfather would take care of
it. Should I get the pilot to call a limo service?"
Buck asked Patrick. "Will and Joe are not liking us
standing out here. Look at them, they're more agitated
than the twins."

Will stood in front of the twins looking toward the
hanger lobby while Joe looked everywhere else around
the sprawling airport. Everyone heard the low growl of
a diesel engine coming from the side of the building
and looked that way. The twins' questioning frowns
gave way to smiles and they started running toward the
shining dark blue four door Hummer rag top SUV
grumbling around the corner of the building. The top
was down and a tall man was standing up in the
passenger side waving both arms at them. A limousine
followed the massive Humvee closely. Will and Joe
relaxed together with full faced smiles of relief. The
boys and Patrick watched the excited family reunion
with smiles as they eyed the heavy truck enviously.

Doug nudged Buck. "Do we own one of those?" He asked
with a grin, after seeing Buck's expression.

Buck giggled and pushed Doug. "Fuck no, not yet. Maybe
Tuesday if we can find a dealer somewhere. I wonder if
they have them in stock. That's the coolest, meanest
fucking machine, but ours should be red." He snapped
his fingers. "You know we could bulldoze a trail
around the property and."

Marc interrupted, "Yeah, and one to our house, so we
have a back road! Man, I got me a hard on just looking
at that, what a truck. Can I drive it?"

"So what else is new?" Peter asked while he tried to
pull Marc's jacket open.

Doug shook his head, "No way man, not when you have a
hardon, you'd be too distracted."

Marc tried looking disappointed between giggles and
flashed his jacket open in their direction after
playfully fighting Peter off. "I assume that means
never then, huh?"

The twins started running. "GRAMPS! GRAMPS!" They
screamed together. Luggage was forgotten as everyone
watched the reunion.

Thomas De La Varga stepped on the top of the door and
jumped to the concrete from the slowly moving Hummer.
His grandsons jumped up into his waiting arms and
surrounded his neck with all four of theirs, trying to
pull themselves higher. They kissed his cheeks
repeatedly between snatches of independent babble
about being free, how great it was to come home and
how much they loved him. Thomas carried them the last
fifty feet back to the smiling and laughing boys.

Patrick wiped away a tear with one hand and stepped
forward to offer his hand. "That was beautiful to
watch Sir, and well worth the trip to be seein' it."

"Patrick!" Thomas said as he bent his lean six foot
four inch body until the twins' feet touched concrete.
They released his neck and surrounded his waist,
pasting themselves to his sides and legs. With his
arms and hands free, he shook Patrick's proffered hand
with both of his. "I'd know you anywhere, even before
I heard your Irish accent. Thank you for caring for my
grandsons."

Patrick grinned, "Accent? I've an accent? You're the
first in thirty years to be tellin' me self of it. All
this time I was thinkin' ever' one else was speakin' a
bit strange. Imagine that." Patrick's giggle negated
his statement.

The twins methodically introduced Thomas to each of
the group. When they got to Buck, Thomas first shook
his hand, then hugged him and thanked him and Bucky in
absentia repeatedly for helping him be reunited with
his grandsons.

They introduced Will and Joe last, and Toby
frantically attempted to iron out the grumpled email
pages he held in his hand, temporarily forgotten in
the excitement. Thomas blinked at the word,
bodyguards, but was diverted by having paper waved in
front of his eyes. "What is it Toby?" He asked and
took the sheets.

"These guys are really private detectives, AND they
got all this while we were flying out here."

Toby and Terry linked their minds again. "AND WE'RE
FREE! WE'RE FREE!" They chanted together.

While they shouted their joy, the Hummer's driver
crouched down and sneaked slowly toward Thomas and the
twins from behind them. When he was close enough he
reached out and began tickling both twins. "GOTCHA!"
He shouted, then pulled them together and hugged them.

They hugged him back equally fiercely. "Pepe! HI!" The
twins each took one of his hands and towed him along,
introducing him as their grandfather's ranch foreman
and best friend, as well as theirs.

Thomas read, then re-read the report. His smiled
changed to a knitted brow. He looked at Will and Joe.
"Thank you for this," he said quietly. "I could have
forgiven him marrying my daughter for money because he
gave her and me these fine boys. I even would have
ultimately settled this mess with him and given him
whatever he wanted in return for custody. Now I find
that he's cheapened her memory, and I will never
forgive him for that. If I am ever again alone with
him, I will personally cut off his balls and feed them
to him in retribution. Afterward, I will see to it
that he gets the best in medical care, because I want
him to live to regret this insult to my daughter and
her sons. Before God, I swear this." His eyes drifted
to the sky and closed. His lips moved silently. Will
and Joe looked at each other as they realized that he
was repeating his oath.


Very early the next morning Thomas Del La Varga was
alone in the gunroom, originally the armory of the
sprawling ancient hacienda. His eyes traveled slowly
over the priceless collection of antique black powder
weapons displayed there. He brooded about Kevin Fair,
his son-in-law who never was, a former annoying
adversary whose status Thomas revised to that of a
hated reviled enemy. His cell phone rang. He assumed
it was a wrong number since no one had it except his
grandsons and Pepe, plus it was three o'clock in the
morning. He answered, prepared to disconnect. He sat
up suddenly. The caller's voice was gravelly, much
like Buck's, only deeper with maturity. After he
replaced the phone in his pocket he stared at the door
for a couple of minutes before there was a light
knock, and it opened. He watched Joe drop his phone in
his shirt pocket as he sat down. Will remained leaning
against the closed door to be certain they wouldn't be
interrupted.

"We relayed your oath and he thought we might be of
some assistance in full filling it. Tell us when and
where you want him, and Mr. Fair will be there." Joe
said without preamble.

Thomas nodded. "Very soon. The twins want and deserve
a face to face confrontation first. The woman and her
mother will be reduced to penury. I want them evicted
with the clothes on their backs."

Joe nodded.

"I would not like any of this to become public, but
there are records."

"They can be lost in a day or two."

"As I was told, you gentlemen are efficient."

Joe nodded again in thanks. "It would be best if the
boy's father once again officially fled for parts
unknown as far as the boys and the women involved are
concerned. He has no relatives. No one will miss him.
His wife has no interest in his whereabouts. There is
a small private hospital, a sanitarium really, where
he can be kept afterward for as long as you wish. That
is if you actually want him to live."

"I do. An oath is an oath after all. I and the
generations before me are a rather unforgiving lot I'm
afraid. Of course I'll underwrite all expenses.
Perhaps an advance is in order? As much as you need in
cash, as soon as the bank opens tomorrow."

Joe smiled. "That won't be necessary, besides,
tomorrow, rather, today is Saturday."

"Not if you own the bank." Thomas answered with a
chuckle. They stood up together. He shook hands with
them both, "Thank you gentlemen. It would seem that my
grandsons have acquired some surprisingly good
friends, and through them, so have I." Thomas paused,
"Tell me, does young Buck have any inkling of who his
father is?"

Will shrugged, "He's very perceptive. He jokes about
it with the boys, and they sort of accept it as a
fact, or they're getting used to the idea." Will
hesitated, "One more question Mr. De La Varga, if I
may?" Thomas nodded. "Will you be able to do it,
actually nut him?"

Thomas laughed. "I've been a rancher all my life. Over
the years I've nutted hundreds, perhaps thousands of
bull calves, and no small number of mature ones that I
raised for breeding, then found wanting. Calves aren't
actually cut, but adults are. It's messy, but I've yet
to lose a patient. You just deliver him. I'll need an
hour with him, and then you can take him away to your
sanitarium a few ounces lighter. Some sedation may be
necessary to transport it afterward." Thomas spat the
word, it.

When Joe and Will were in the room they shared, Joe
gulped and held his balls after they stripped. "Did
you catch that `IT'? Goddamn, and I thought I was a
mean sonofabitch."

 

 

 

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