Castle Roland

In The Pool

by Jack Scribe, of Honored Memory


Chapter 22

Published: 8 Apr 14

The birthday dinner and physical endearment afterwards were perfect. Dave and Mike took turns expressing their growing love to each other. Dave left around midnight so that he could be at the pool early Sunday morning. He was relieved that Mike had been thinking of contingency plans for later in the year.


Mike outdid himself for the Monday 4th of July celebration. Wow, what a crowd. Jim was assigned to the Club for the day and it was fun working with him. Once getting our lustful curiosity out of the way with that one jack-off session in the barracks shower, a firm friendship developed. We settled into a Monday and Wednesday evening workout and swim schedule at the base gym and aqua facilities.

I didn't see Brent all weekend. He mentioned something about business in St. Louis. Nothing else was ever said. 'Business' was the buzzword we both understood and he planned to be back sometime early evening on Monday.

Mike arrived mid-morning in a loud aloha shirt and white shorts. We casually waved as he walked over to Jim first, at the other end of the pool. He knew where I'd be. In a few minutes he joined me in the locker room. "Officially, Happy Birthday," he said as we shook hands. With no one there, we lightly kissed each other. It wouldn't pay to push the envelope today.

"I guess I can throw out my fake I.D.," I replied with a broad smile. "But I've gotten good mileage from it." I walked over to the wash sink and turned on the cold water. I needed a splash on my face as a diversion from my man. "Beth and Phil have invited us for an informal dinner this coming Saturday. How does that sound?" I asked as I palmed cool water on my face and body.

"Sounds good. I'll get in about the same time as usual. We can run errands and loaf Saturday before the dinner. What time did they say?"

"Seven-ish. It will be very casual. I suggested that we bring dessert and wine. Okay?" I asked.

"Add it to our shopping list. By the way, I was trying to figure out when Doug, Brent, you and I can get together. They always seem busy."

I almost choked as I said, "We're not available this weekend and next weekend Brent mentioned that he and Doug are taking a long weekend in L.A. I think Doug wants to introduce Brent to his family."

"Wow. Talk about an Italian homecoming. I hope no one gets deep six'd."

"Oh, Mike. Give the guys some slack," I playfully replied.


It was mid-week. The party at the 'O' club had been an awesome success and I basked in the afterglow with Mike, because Special Services was a major contributor to the event. The Admiral and the C.O. were very pleased.

I had walked through my leave request yesterday. Except for official posturing, Naval Officers took care of each other, and I knew that Brent would have no problem in the Admiral's Office. He and a chief ran the show for their two-star boss.

Today was the day I had to take care of the other matter concerning the L.A. visit. At 1630 I called home. I knew that mom would be there. In LA it was only 1430.

"Hi, Mom."

"Dougie. How sweet of you to call. You're in Memphis? Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, I'm calling from Memphis." That was cheerful enough without overdoing it. "Everything's fine, Ma. I wanted to let you know that I'll be in L.A. a week from Monday." Very measured now. Keep a calm pace. "I'll be in town on business and want to bring a friend over to meet you and dad." Be slightly upbeat.

"Oh, Doug. Is this a new girlfriend? Is she Italian?"

"No, it's not a girlfriend. A friend of mine who's also in the Navy and his name is Brent." Take a deep breath. Just the facts, ma'am. "A special friend." Here it comes, she'll catch that right away.

"What do you mean, 'special'? How special?"

"About as special as you can get." Momentum rolling. "More than best friends." Bombs away.

"Doug, when a man is 'more than a best friend' to another man, well, I mean, that's not what we taught you at home...I, well, ummm, this doesn't make any sense. What are you trying to tell me, and who is this better than a best friend...have you been corrupted...oh, Blessed Mary, Mother of Jesus..."

"Ma. Please don't talk so fast. Ma, you're yelling." Try to get her to ratchet it down.

"You're living in sin. How can a son of mine be telling me that he's with a man doing what the Church teaches is only for a man and woman? I can't believe I'm talking to you about this. I don't think there is anything else to say. I'm going to..."

"If you hang up, there's no turning back." That should get her attention. "Listen for a second. Have I ever disappointed you or Dad?" One guilt trip, coming up. "I wish we were in the same room talking right now." Play the sympathy card.

"Dougie, I love you. But I honest to God don't know how to react to what you're saying. You're saying that you and this other man are homosexuals? What's that word? Gay? There are so many like that out here."

"Okay, here's the way it is, Ma. I've never, ever been interested in girls. The girls I dated in high school and college were just a cover up." Lower the tone and rhetoric a bit, to keep things calm.

"What about Sarah and Melissa? You mean that those steady girls didn't mean anything? Maybe you didn't give it a chance? Maybe you need the right woman to make you a man? Oh, I don't know what I mean."

"I've tried. Believe me I've tried. You think I'd want to be gay if I had any choice? Believe me, Ma, I'm no less a man." There it was. I'd said it. It gave her a chance to whack away at my vulnerabilities.

"What did your Dad and I do wrong? Are you sure you can't change? This is something that you haven't chosen? Oh God, what am I saying? How did this turn out like this? Maybe you should talk to a Father at Church?"

"You have no idea how many times I've asked those same questions. I don't know why. It just is." Maybe this will work out; she doesn't seem quite as upset, just more puzzled. "And no, I don't want to talk with a Priest." Jeez, they have enough problems with their own sexual issues.

"Are you sure that this is the...ah...person that you want to be with 'in that way'?"

"Yes, I'm very sure. And it's not 'in that way'. He's the one I've given my heart to." Do I dare use the 'L' word? "I really do love you, dad, and our family. And Brent is the one that I want to bring into your lives as my partner. My love for him is just as real as Louie's is for his wife." Brother Louie had married his high school sweetheart last year. Hopefully, Mom could understand the similarity of her two son's love for their significant other.

"Son, there's a lot to think about. But, you've never disappointed us. Give me a chance to discuss this with your father. If this is what you want, I can't turn my back on you...or your friend. When will we see you?"

"We'll be there on Monday and I'd like to talk to you and dad over lunch. Just the three of us. Then I'd like you both, Brent and me to go out to dinner somewhere nearby before we return on Tuesday." Well, there's my deal. Will she sign the contract? "Can you sell dad? I've never heard him run down gay people, but I didn't want to be the first one in his crosshairs." That's laying it on the line without too much subtlety.

"I don't know, Dougie. Your father is very strong willed and stubborn. I can't tell you that he will be very accepting. He may be very upset and unforgiving. What happens then?"

Uh, oh. Dangerous ground. "The consequences would be that you'll never have to bother with me again. I'll just accept that my family doesn't love me." Second guilt trip...big time.

"That's no way to speak to your mother. Threats will get you nowhere."

"That's not a threat. That's reality. If you can't accept me for what I am or the man I love, then it's not worth a close relationship." Bottom line.

"Now wait a minute. You are part of our family. I don't quite understand why or what you're doing with this Brent, but I don't want to split up our family. I love you...very much. We both do."

"No, Ma. I don't want that either." Reverse engines. "And, I know you love me, and I love all of you very much, too." Mellow out time. "Please, Ma, can you smooth the waters? Brent is very important in my life." Crossed fingers.

"You know I'll do my best. I'll talk to your father tonight and try to sell him on these changes in your life. Can we talk tomorrow, Doug?"

"That works. I'll call again tomorrow about this time." The ball has been moved to the three-yard line. "I love you."

"Love you, Son. Bye."

Thursday, our subsequent telephone conversation was almost like old times. I could hear reluctance in Mom's voice, but she was trying. We confirmed the lunch for Monday. I didn't push the dinner right now.

The next week was a blur, with the usual activity. Friday morning, Brent and I boarded the 0845 Northwest Flight #179 to LAX. With the time change and one stop, the four-hour flight brought us in at 1045 PDT. After collecting our bags, we saw a very handsome young man in a black suit holding a sign stating "DiMarco." I walked over to him and said, "Are you looking for Doug DiMarco?"

"Yes, Sir. Welcome to Los Angeles. I'm Chuck. Chuck Barnett."

"Chuck, this is Brent Williams." We all shook hands.

"I'm Mr. Barron's personal assistant. He has told me all about you two. From what I know, you two must be very successful in what you do." He winked with a grin and we smiled back. Chuck grabbed our carry-on bags and led us to a very sensible, dark blue BMW 750 curbside. I noticed that the license plate read, "SB" - nothing more.

Once in the backseat of the comfortable, leather-trimmed German masterpiece, we gently cruised away from LAX to the I-405, to Wilshire Blvd and Beverly Hills.

"What exactly is your relationship to Mr. Barron?" I asked fairly innocently.

"During the day, I'm his personal assistant at the office. I guard the gate so to speak. After hours, I also do that, plus whatever else he wants." He looked at me through the rear view mirror and smiled.

"Got it." I returned his smile with a wink.

"Brent, I know that Doug was raised here. How about you? Have you ever been to L.A.?"

'Okay,' I thought, 'Revelation time. Chuck is clearly more than just a cute gofer.'

"This is my first time in your city," Brent replied. "I've lived in New York all my life except for recently in Memphis. Where are you from?"

"Originally West Virginia via Ohio State University and New York to work with a theater talent agent. I came out here about two years ago and met Sam shortly thereafter at a party. Been with him and Creative Artists Management ever since then. It's a good job, and I enjoy the benefits."

We rolled onto Lasky Drive and into the cobblestone-paved entry to the newest luxury hotel in Beverly Hills. Creative Artists Management - CAM - was right across the street. Brent and I got out of the car and Chuck directed the bellman to the trunk. He popped it open from the dashboard controls and joined us.

At the front desk, Brent and I were welcomed profusely. Talk about brown-nose time. It was explained that all charges were being taken care of by CAM. Following the bellman, we were directed to one of the garden bungalows that were discretely positioned behind a luscious garden at the rear of the main building. Chuck followed us.

The bellman showed us all the amenities of this beautiful two-bedroom suite. It was obvious that the designer had been given carte blanche. After the banter was completed, Chuck gave the bellman a twenty-dollar bill. The bellman was very happy as he departed.

"Guys, here's the plan. I'd suggest a light lunch and a little naptime. This is going to be a busy weekend and I need to stress that you should conserve your energy. Your success is vital to Sam's final business dinner on Monday with the two princes from Saudi Arabia. We're all in this together."

I quietly thought about this new information. This was the first I had heard that the two businessmen were part of the royal family. 'Truly a case of going after the royal family jewels,' I thought with a grin.


"Chuck, knowing that you and Mr. Barron are more than business associates is reassuring. Tell us what we need to do to achieve this success."

"I appreciate the no 'bullshit' approach," Chuck answered. "Let me first say that when I was told that the two of you were coming in from Memphis, I couldn't believe it. I imagined a couple of local yokels out of 'Hee Haw.' Okay. I'm guilty of stereotyping," he said with a smile as he held up his hands. "Remember, I'm from West Virginia. When I saw you two, with your natural male handsomeness and intellectual curiosity, I understood why Sam wanted you here. The guys here pale by comparison and believe me, in L.A., everyone can be bought for a price. No offense."

"None taken. We plan on being part of Sam's success. Just give us a few clues so that Doug and I don't disappoint the boss."

"Here's the plan as I know it. Tonight you two will come up to Sam's home in the Hills for a quiet dinner with the two princes, Sam and me. The dress is L.A. casual. Look to your closet for inspiration."

"Will we be coming back to the hotel?" Doug asked.

"Yes, at some point tomorrow. It really depends on how well the princes enjoy your company. The only scheduled appearance is dinner at Spago in West Hollywood Saturday night. Sam has a table that is his every week. Unless you hear otherwise, we will have a large party there including some actresses who love the attention we pay them. They're all represented by CAM."

"That sounds like fun. Who all will be joining us?"

"I'll try to find out. Be out front at eight when I return to pick you up tonight." Chuck waved and left our suite.

I pulled Doug into my arms. "I guess I'm been introduced to La La a grand style." We closed in a tight embrace.

"Yeah, welcome to my hometown. Ain't it a bitch?"

"We'll face the family on Monday. In the meantime, let's explore the suite."

We walked into the master bedroom and opened the walk-in closet. Inside was a collection of apparel that would make any clothes hound jealous. Arranged in opposite areas were clothes that were tailored exclusively for us: Jackets, slacks and pre-laundered shirts. I looked down and checked out the variety of shoes in both our sizes.

"Doug, I think we won the gay clothes lottery," I said with a chuckle. Returning to the bedroom, we embraced and prepared for a short nap in the nearest bed.


As I kissed Brent, I couldn't help but think that there was a lot of money at stake. The wardrobe we discovered was sensational. In addition to the five grand that was the fee for this gig, we got to keep a wardrobe that had to be worth twice the value of our 'paycheck'.

We stripped and rested until 7:00 p.m. - we left military time back in Memphis. After cleaning up, I dressed in a casual, comfortable black on black shirt and pant ensemble with a silver-inlayed belt. Brent looked great in tropic beige. We both went commando. Our soft cocks casually moved against the micro-fabric as we walked, to offer just enough to intrigue. Perfect.

Chuck looked hot wearing a form-fitting white polo shirt and jeans. He met us at the hotel entrance with the Bimmer and we motored up the Hills to a mansion that was discretely tucked away behind tall shrubs and a wall. Using a remote, Chuck opened the two large, iron gates which were backed with green canvas, and we proceeded up the curved drive. The sprawling one-story home was built with a combination of flagstone, glass and redwood trim. The 'moonbeam' lighting in the surrounding trees set off a very impressive scene. 'Hell,' I thought, 'this is what L.A. is all about.' I subconsciously started humming "Hooray for Hollywood" as we all got out of the car.

Opening the door was a short, dark-featured man in his late-thirties with an acceptable build and a face that had probably been enhanced. 'Nice job,' I judged. 'His plastic surgeon is very skilled.'

Chuck walked up and embraced him with a short kiss on the lips. "Hey, Sam."

Sam kissed him back and turned to us. Knowing who we were, he smiled and shook each of our hands, using our names. "It's great that you could get away for this weekend. As you know, it's very important that we all succeed."

"We'll do everything in our power to entertain your guests," Brent rejoined.

"From what I've been told - and from what I see, you two are most welcome. The two men, Abdul and Fahd, prefer to be called Abe and Fred. Abe is the taller of the two. And he loves blond men, Brent. One word of caution: Don't bring up their royal titles or country. And, they think that you are both students. Later, if they want you to stay tonight, both like a little dominance action, with them playing submissive. They prefer the bottom position. Any problem with that?"

"Absolutely not. Brent and I will go with the flow. We're keeping our time flexible through Monday morning."

"Great," Sam said. He wrapped his arms around Chuck as we entered the massive foyer that was best described as upscale rustic California.

Lots of slate, stone and wood beams with neutral off-white walls were backdrops for an incredible grouping of abstract art, expertly lit. The area carpets were museum-worthy. Walking into the living room, we saw two men standing by the fireplace, dressed in casual slacks and Tommy Bahama silk shirts. The taller of the two, I guessed Abe was in his late twenties. My 'date,' Fred, was probably thirty-five.

"Gentlemen, our guests have arrived." Sam made introductions all around. Abe and Fred had already met Chuck. An Asian man in a white jacket offered us white wine. "I think you'll enjoy the Corton-Charlemagne," he proffered.

The light conversation maneuvered around Abe and Fred's travels in our country and Sam's business. Names like Brad, the two Toms, and Julia were mentioned casually. He represented all of them. In that Brent and I had seen several of the actors' recent films, we would offer comments at appropriate moments. Sam slipped his excitement about an Australian actor by the name of Russell Crowe that he wanted to use in a new film into the conversation. Abe and Fred listened intently. This was the production that was being brought to the table for financing. Kevin Spacey and another Australian actor would be co-starring with Crowe. Sam also represented Curtis Hansen, who would direct. I was impressed. 'God, I'd love to be working on this film.'

After a short while, we all moved into the dining room that offered a spectacular view of the pool and bathhouse below, and the expertly manicured landscape. A beautiful buffet of skillfully prepared hot and cold finger food was expertly arranged. This was merely a snack to tide us over until a large meal that would be served after midnight. That was the Saudi custom.


After filling a plate with food we started pairing off as couples for the evening. Abe was very polite and moderately attractive with his olive brown skin and dark features. He was around 5' 10" and obviously kept in shape. I saw Doug and Fred walking outside to the balcony. Fred was shorter and a little thin. Wiry was probably the best description. Sam and Chuck had returned to the living room.

"I'm happy that you could take a break from studies and join us for the weekend."

Placing my half-finished plate of food on the table, I walked over to him and put my arm around his waist. "Abe, I've looked forward to it. Sam's a great host and I know we'll have a good time."

He put his plate down and moved closer to me. "May I invite you to my room?"

"Lead the way." I followed him as we walked out to a wide hallway that was lit only with indirect lighting and a continuation of the art collection. We stopped at the second door and he gestured for me to enter.

"Come inside, my beautiful man." He followed me inside this massive bedroom that was painted in a chocolate brown that set off more art and a cream-colored Berber carpeting. 'I'm sure that I've seen this room in Architectural Digest,' I judged, as I heard the door close behind me. I turned as he walked up to me.

Pulling him closer, I said, "I think we'll be more comfortable without our clothes." I unbuttoned his loose shirt and removed it. I pinched his nipple as an indication that I knew what was going to happen. "Take off my shirt." After he removed it, I took it and placed both shirts neatly on an ottoman.

"Oh Brent, what else can I do for you?" I sensed he was quivering slightly with anticipation. His dark eyes sparkled.

"After you take off your shoes and pants, get over here and remove mine." I toed off my shoes as he removed the remainder of his clothes. I observed that he was thinner than I expected with normal Muslim-mandated circumcised equipment and a heavy patch of pubic hair. I smiled and the smile was returned as he walked over to me. 'I hope that I have this role-playing figured out correctly,' I pondered. 'No second-guessing now.' At the last minute, I decided not to insist that he address me as Sir. 'That might be pushing it a little bit too far.'

After releasing my belt and un-zipping my fly, he slowly pulled down my slacks. I stepped out of the puddled pants and said, "Put my clothes over on the chair." He did so and returned to me with his dark-skinned cock very alert.

Looking lustfully into my eyes, he asked, "May I, Sir?" as he reached for my still-flaccid dick.

"Get down and make we wet." With my cock in hand, he kneeled and immediately put his nose to my crotch. Licking my balls, he was getting the job done. I was waking up. As it went to full-mast, the hot tongue started moving up and down my length. "Take it in your mouth," I ordered. 'Guess he gets off with the Sir business.'

"Yes, Sir." His lips immediately encased my dickhead.

"Hold it right there."

He did as told and I started slowly fucking his face.

"Hmmm," was the only response.

This went on for a few minutes. I stopped and withdrew when I felt too close to the edge. Pulling him firmly upright, I asked, "Do you like it?"

He nodded.

"I can't hear you."

"Oh yes, Sir. Very much," he urgently replied.

"Do you want this up your arse?" I used the British pronunciation on purpose.

"Yes, Sir, please."

I maneuvered Abe to the bed, lifted him under his arms and firmly placed him on his stomach. Getting on my knees between his legs, I reached under his body and started massaging his pecs and nipples vigorously while probing his pits with my thumbs. He whimpered when I pinched his tits. At the same time, I marked him by biting and sucking his left ass cheek. 'That will give him a reminder of me for a few days,' I thought, smiling.

Grabbing some lube from the nightstand, I dribbled a few drops on my cock and reached for a conveniently placed condom. After rolling it down, I generously applied lube on my encased cock and hands. Aggressively rubbing his brown anus, I started with two probing fingers and boldly rubbed his sphincter and beyond. Although playing the 'dominant' role usually meant entering roughly, I didn't want to cause pain. After applying a third and forth finger, I growled, "Are you ready to take it like a man?"

"Ahhh...yes...yes, Sir."

Do you want it slow and easy, or fast and hard?"

"Hard, Sir. The harder the better." He was squirming slightly trying to get more of me inside him.


As I finished slamming into Fred, I removed his legs from my waist and gently moved over to his side.

"Doug, that was beautiful. Thank you."

"My pleasure." I knew from his tone that the role-playing was over. Part of the pleasure he got was from his submissiveness to my subtle 'dom' act. I was now returning to the role of escort. I leaned over and kissed his eyelids. We lay there for a while. I let his hands explore my body.

"Dear Doug. Would you honor my request to go out to the pool with me?"

"Fred, I think we could both use a shower first."

"There are showers outside by the pool."

"Let's go." We got out of the massive bed and put on terry robes. 'I guess skinny dipping is okay in his culture if you've just been fucked by another man,' I considered, as we walked out to the back patio and down to the pool. We both tossed our robes onto a chair and showered each other.

Looking over the layout, I noticed that Brent and Abe were in the Jacuzzi with Sam. Chuck walked over to us, also in the buff. I noticed a very large reason that had cinched Chuck's position. 'Or,' I considered, 'positions.' He was no slouch in the body department either.

"Gentlemen. I guess we all came up with the same idea independently," Chuck said enthusiastically.

"Hi, Chuck." He was definitely checking me out. "Yes, it is a beautiful evening. It would be a shame to let this all go to waste."

"Are you enjoying the evening, Fred?"

"Marvelously so. Doug and I have been having a wonderful time and he's great company."

Fred squeezed my hand for emphasis. 'A success so far,' I thought.

"I'm going to jump in the pool and cool off. Doug, Fred, you want to join me?" Chuck asked.

"Let's go." I kept my hand with Fred's and we walked over to the pool and waded into the water. The temperature was just perfect.


Relaxing in the Jacuzzi after the first coupling of the evening, I saw the trio go into the pool.

Abe got up and said, "I'm going to join the other men for a little cool-down. Brent, stay here. I'll return soon. Wait for me?" He winked while climbing out of the agitated hot water.

"Absolutely. You cool off and have a good time."

When Abe was out of hearing range, Sam said, "I think that you and Doug are going to help make me a very rich man. If everything goes well, I won't be able to thank you two enough."

"If everything is successful, I'd appreciate you remembering that when Doug gets out of the Navy at the end of the year; he plans on returning to L.A. to start a career in your crazy film business. He's a graduate of the UCLA film school."

"Really? That's interesting."

"Please don't mention it to him. He'd kill me if he knew I've told you this."

"I'll file this away for future reference. Now, tell me a little about yourself. I know we've never met, but, for some reason, you look familiar."

"I did some modeling and print work back in New York a few years ago."

"New York? That's where I grew up. How about your folks?"

"Mom was an actress on one of the soaps and Dad played baseball 'til he blew out his knee."

"Soap? Which one?"

"Guiding Light."

"Oh, shit. Was her name Brenda Williams?" Sam started grinning big time.

"Ya...yes." I stammered. My eyes were as wide as the CBS logo. I felt my heart going into overdrive.

"My dad represented her. He was her agent."

I was dumbstruck. Almost in a small boy voice that quivered, I asked, "Your dad was...Uncle Manny?"

"Officially, Manny Baranski. But I do remember you as a little tow-headed blond kid around four or five who would be at rehearsals. That was, what, 17 or 18 years ago? Your mom was one of my dad's breadwinners. I used to go over to Studio 51 on East 44th Street after school to watch the production."

"My mom loved your dad. And, I remember your dad's kindness to me. Those were good times." I plunged my head into the Jacuzzi momentarily to wash away the tears.

When I emerged, Sam asked, "How about you? What are your plans?"

"I shouldn't be telling you this, but Doug and I are a couple. In fact, we're going to see his folks Monday after we're finished with this assignment." I looked into his eyes, trying to read any reaction. The only thing I saw was interest and curiosity. "I've got one more year in the Navy. Then, I'm coming out here to enroll in UCLA. I've already completed one year at Columbia."

"Columbia? UCLA? You must be one smart goyim."

"Smart enough, I guess."

"Smart enough to know when you're looking at opportunity in the face?"

"I don't follow you."

"Brent, bottom line is that I'm in the talent business. With your fucking looks, wholesome attitude, a brain that rises to the occasion, and possible acting chops that are genetic, I think that I could mold you to be a very hot talent here in Hollywood. There are a lot of pretty faces. Dime a dozen. What you offer as a package doesn't come along very often."

"Wow, that's a mouthful. This isn't just bullshit, is it?" I felt comfortable enough to express myself in a casual manner. 'Uncle Manny was his dad,' I considered, 'Wow.'

"On my father's grave, and on your mother's, I swear that if you have faith in me, we can make a great future for you."

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