JACK
by
Geoff Hill
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PUBLISHED BY CHARGAN AT SMASHWORDS
This book available in print from
www.chargan.com
Jack
Copyright © 2011 Geoff Hill
ISBN: 978-1-4658-1273-5
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Geoff Hill has asserted his right under the Copyright Act 1968 to be identified as the author of this work.
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In her days as a call girl, Lynette had done and seen many things that a normal person would consider revolting, yet she had just received a request from a prospective client that would have surprised anybody else.
She thought that the assignment would be ideal for Jack Hall, and it seemed to her that he would be the perfect fit for a job like this, so she didn’t even entertain the idea of using any of the other men that she employed from time to time.
Her mischievous streak made her believe that she would get more enjoyment from watching Jack handle this assignment, than she would by observing any of her other employees. The trick, she knew, would be getting Jack to agree with it.
Jack had been with her escort agency for around eighteen months and during that time had impressed all the female clients who had had call for his services. His youthfulness had allowed her clients to introduce him to others in whichever way they felt comfortable enough to do so. It was nothing for Jack to play the son one night or toy-boy for a middle-aged widow or divorcée the next. It was usually the client's personal agenda ethical or not which dictated how they wished to present him. His intelligence and in-depth knowledge of a variety of subjects reflected favourably on the clients – and ultimately on Lynette and her service. Lynette still remembered as if it were yesterday the day he bounced into her office, full of enthusiasm and cockiness.
“Hello, my name is Jack Hall, I’m eighteen years old, but as you can see I could pass for older if it’s necessary for a client. I’m six foot tall and at present enrolled in medical school. I have no fixed religious beliefs, although I’m flexible in that department if it is important to your clients. I also speak ten languages, courtesy of my father’s worldwide travels over the course of his working life.”
Lynette remembered him carrying on with all the positives of why she should hire him. What had impressed her most at the time was – at such a relatively young age – his absolute assured self-confidence. At first she had been concerned about his lack of age but was prepared to overlook it because of his obvious maturity and enthusiasm. Little did Lynette know that Jack would not only be an asset for her business, but also a great wellspring for her mirthful storytelling.
Jack had been planning his life long before he was a teenager; playing the stock market was testament to that. His father had instilled in him a sense of purpose for life and if he proved successful, which he was fully confident – as only a teenager can be – that he would, then working for an escort agency would provide him with a generous income to help him on his way, not to mention an outlet to ease the boredom of his routine at university. He knew he would need more than his academic skills to make himself successful. His father would joke “there's no point being the most intelligent person on the planet if you can't find your way out of a revolving door”.
Initially Lynette had told Jack that his age might work against him and not to expect too much business from her clients. How wrong she had been! His bedside manner (so to speak) had proved to be just what her agency needed. After her basic cross-examination regarding his social habits – drinking, smoking, scratching his crotch in public, and any other social gaffes which might offend a client – she knew by his boyish blushing at some of her remarks that he was the genuine article. He had seemed too good to be true at the time. He had no criminal record, and best of all he didn’t have a girlfriend; they could be poison in this business. The girlfriends all loved it when the money started to roll in for their spending, but eventually the green-eyed monster stirred deep within. It was ridiculous the way some girls carried on, because Lynette was proud of the business she had built up. Any sexual contact with clients while on assignment (she loved that word) was cause for instant dismissal, if she found out.
Lynette was well aware that the escort business was not held in particularly high regard, but then neither were car salesmen, real estate agents or politicians. “You can usually find some sleaze in any vocation if you dig deep enough,” she thought, remembering her own days in an office long ago, before she moved to her lucrative business as a call girl, when who was fucking who was on top of the daily gossip list. She was very strict about any liaisons conducted outside her business assignments. She only tolerated these flings as long as money wasn’t involved; and if the fling did become a serious relationship her employees usually left the business of their own accord, with a gentle nudge from their new partner. When and if she did find any of ‘her boys’, as she liked to call them, becoming entrepreneurial and deciding to go into business for themselves with her clients, a well-placed phone call to a gentleman friend knowledgeable in the art of persuasion would either bring them back under her wing or provide them with a lengthy holiday in hospital. Which piece of ‘advice’ meted out depended on how valuable Lynette considered the employee was to her business. As for the client involved, they were erased from her file forever, no exceptions. She couldn’t afford to give to prospective customers the appearance that hers was a mobile brothel. “After all, I’m a respectable woman now,” she laughed to herself, “and it wouldn’t do for my reputation to be tarnished by such rumours.”
Lynette’s thoughts then returned to her immediate problem.
“Jack, Lynette here. How are you?”
“Hello Lynette, it’s nice to hear from you,” Jack said, and he genuinely meant it. Jack liked Lynette and the way she ran her business, taking no nonsense from ‘her boys’, and even her clients had to toe the line. Any client – mostly women (but she did have a couple of girls who escorted men occasionally) who overstepped the mark and thought they could fuck the legs off their escort at the end of the night – was, he had discovered, struck off her books. He had heard stories of how she enforced her rules and he had no intention of putting himself in a position to find out how true these stories were. As these thoughts went through his mind he found himself absent-mindedly looking at his hands. “That’s all I need, my fingers broken and twisted when I’m going to be a surgeon,” he grimaced.
“Have you got a job for me, Lynette?” Jack asked, happy to change his direction of thought.
“I do Jack, it’s a bit out of the ordinary,” she replied cryptically, “but I think it’ll be right up your alley; perfect for a man of your many talents.”
“Well, the only thing that would be out of the ordinary in your business, Lynette, would be if you wanted me to escort a man,” Jack joked. There was a deafening silence.
“Bullshit!” Lynette thought, “How does he do it? It’s not the first time he’s read my mind.
“One day I’ll get the better of you, Jack!” she laughed.
“You mean that’s what you really want me to do?” Now it was Jack’s turn to be astounded.
Lynette had a penchant for enjoying the discomfort of her boys, especially if a customer was particularly obnoxious and demanding, and the escort had to be at their diplomatic best to survive the evening without losing their cool. Her life thrived on hearing of the misadventures on these dates. Just so long as the customer was satisfied!
“Ah,” Lynette thought, “he was only joking, I’ve finally had a victory over him”, as she held the silent phone in her hand. Now she had to think how she could use this to her advantage, but sanity prevailed when she realised she had to get him to agree to it. “Cat got your tongue, Jack?” Lynette asked smugly.
“Well Lynette.” Jack asked, knowing her nipple must be getting a good workout, “I did explain my sexuality to you when you employed me; you’re well aware I only enter the palace through the front door, so I figure you’ve got more to tell me when you’ve finished teasing me.” Jack was sure she did the nipple-twirling sub-consciously because the odd time he had been in her office while she was on the phone and something in the conversation pleased her, she would twirl her finger around her nipple until she hung up the phone. She appeared to be completely oblivious to her habit.
“Right again, Jack,” said Lynette. “Now, down to business. I have a client, Peter Alfred, and for reasons known only to him, he wants to pretend to be gay for an evening.”
“Did he give any indication as to how real he wants this charade to be played out?” he asked suspiciously.
“No he didn’t,” Lynette replied, relieved that at least Jack hadn’t immediately rejected the proposal.
“I know he works for an investment bank from the odd comment he made during our conversation, and I’m thinking it has something to do with getting his bank the business to help a private company go public on the stock exchange. Knowing you, Jack, I’m sure you’d have a better grasp of what he’s talking about than I do. It seems an odd way to go about getting business if you ask me.”
“I’m with you, Lynette. It does seem a bit strange. Do you have any idea where the gay pretence comes into it?” he asked, his curiosity aroused.
“Well, it appears the company in question is owned by a man whose sexuality leans both ways. As you would say, Jack, this man’s not averse to entering the palace by any door of both sexes. I like that saying, Jack! Do you mind if I claim it for my own?” she asked.
“Not a problem Lynette, I’ll see if I can come up with a few more for you.” Jack laughed; he always enjoyed talking to her. Even though she owned the agency, she never treated her employees differently and she was always up for a joke, as he would soon find out to his detriment.
“Anyway Jack, from what I can gather our client wishes to claw his way up the corporate ladder missing a few rungs on the way. He sees this as an ideal opportunity to show the company that he’s got what it takes, and I must say from our conversations he has done his homework regarding his target. It all seems very clandestine to me, but he’s the client. So as long as he is prepared to pay, who are we to argue?” she explained.
SILENCE.
“I can’t hear you Jack. Do you agree?”
“Oh, sorry Lynette, it’s just I haven’t heard you use words of more than six letters since I met you. Do you have a dictionary beside you?” he teased.
“Fuck you, Jack Hall! I happen to have an excellent command of the English language, and it will be in your best interest to remember that”.
“Now you’ve done it Lynette. My testosterone is going to play havoc with me tonight knowing you are going to break your promise to me. You’re such a heartless woman!” he laughed enjoying the banter.
“Can we get back to business, please? This is a serious matter, so settle your hormones down, son.” she replied with mock sternness, “Anyhow, you’re young enough to take care of that problem yourself.”
“I gather from what you’ve told me I’m to accompany him to a gay bar which his unsuspecting future client frequents, and he and I go through the charade of being a couple of poofs on a night out. Would that be an accurate assumption, Lynette?” Jack mocked.
“Crudely put, but reasonably accurate and remember Jack, people with alternate sexual preferences are called gays not poofs, thank you very much!” Before he could answer she continued, “I’ve told him you have a musical ear and are a consummate imitator of voices and won’t have any problems. Am I right in assuming so?” she asked.
Ignoring the question, Jack asked “What sort of money is he prepared to pay for such an odd assignment?” He had become brainwashed by her constant use of the word.
“You’ll be looking at a commission of two grand for your end of the deal Jack, and remember it’s a one-off special fee, so don’t get too comfortable with it,” replied Lynette, “Not bad for a night’s work role-playing and probably having a good laugh doing it.”
“Yeah, right,” Jack thought. “Then why do I have the uneasy feeling I’m going to end up with my arse in a sling?” But before she picked up on his innocent pun he replied: “Not bad at all Lynette; with your fee added on the guy must be desperate to stitch this account up. It’s a lot of money to waste if his plan goes belly-up; he’s taking a big risk on me being able to fulfil our end of the bargain. By the way how old is this crazy prick Peter Alfred?” Jack asked.
“The subject didn’t come up and I didn’t ask; it didn’t seem important I suppose. But now that you’ve asked me, I couldn’t imagine an older man already established in his business going to all this trouble, not to mention the aggravation it would cause his company if the guy wises up to his charade. It would probably cost him his future, so it’s a big risk to take.” she replied.
“Did you tell him my age, Lynette?” he asked.
“I fibbed and told him you’re twenty-two. He seemed happy with that. I learnt throughout our conversation that he wasn’t interested in having a forty-year-old accompany him, “too geriatric”, he told me. Plus I think he wants his prospective client to be attracted to you so make sure you wear clean underwear.” Lynette giggled, and carried on before he had a chance to answer, “He was emphatic he didn’t want an escort who looked young enough to be his son, so I explained you were somewhere between the two extremes.”
“Ouch, Lynette, don’t be cruel! I may not be long out of the cradle but I’ve got a long way to go before I’m up there in pensioner territory. Anyhow Lynette, you’d be worrying more about the furnace than me, you’re closer to it,” he said cryptically.
“The polite thing to say Jack, is that I’ve gained more of life’s experiences than you – and you’ll do well to remember that, young man, if you want me to keep giving you the choice assignments. Look on the bright side, you’re making more money in one night than you usually would in a week.” she laughed.
Feeling himself drawn into the challenge, he said “Yeah right, I believe you, but thousands wouldn’t, Lynette. I’ll find out how choice an acting role you’ve sucked me into in due course. I expect you to be discreet about me taking this job. Mum’s the word, okay?” he pleaded. Without waiting for a reply he asked if she had approached her other employees, knowing full well she wouldn’t admit it if she had.
“You were my first choice, Jack. I knew none of the other guys would have the class to pull off this kind of role. Cross my heart and hope to die,” she replied, tongue-in-cheek, knowing being on the end of a phone gave her a slight advantage with her relaying of the truth.
“Jeez, you’re really full of it! Now I’ve said I’ll do it. By the way, when does it happen?”
“It’s all organised for this Friday night, when Peter’s future client goes to his usual haunt, the Hacienda. I knew you wouldn’t have any classes or study, so I figured there’d be no problems your end. Oh, and Jack, Peter wants to know if you’d like to meet him beforehand or if you’d prefer to make it a blind date?”
“You’re really beginning to enjoy yourself, aren’t you Lynette?” he chided her. “I think I’ll go in blind. If I meet him beforehand and we talk about how we should act on the night, it might influence how we behave and I might get cold feet, which wouldn’t take much. If there is rapport between us it might just end up being a night of fun,” he said.
Innocence is bliss, Jack didn’t realise just how much this little escapade would impact on his life in the future, from a medical, personal and even commercial point of view. However, at the moment his youthful enthusiasm for a challenge was overriding his normal common-sense approach, and his brashness and sense of infallibility were about to create an embarrassing situation which would have repercussions, both humorous and dramatic, that would gradually unfold for years to come.
“Peter Alfred said he would go a bit earlier and would meet you in the city at the Hacienda lounge bar. He’ll make himself known to you probably around eleven pm. That appears to be the time things liven up and couples – of the same sex variety – start pairing up. I’ve given him a photo of you from the files and he’s faxing a photograph of himself to me, so if you want to drop in before Friday I’ll have it for you. Now, he said don’t go looking for him when you get there, just move around and mingle, he’ll contact you when he’s ready. You might even get lucky Jack, maybe get a few phone numbers for future reference.” Lynette couldn’t control herself. Jack ignored her baiting, preferring to concentrate on the extra money he would make for two hours work.
“That’s what I love about you, Lynette. You have this unshakeable faith in me to get the job done. Here I am, nearly twenty years of age, never had any sexual thoughts other than heterosexual, and you’re asking me to pretend to be gay with a man I’ve never met, mingle in a gay bar as eye candy where everyone’s sole aim is to hook up and have sex. I’m dead.” Jack moaned becoming more than a little apprehensive at his decision.
“Couldn’t have said it better myself, Jack, you’ve grasped the situation perfectly!” said Lynette, unable to control her joy. “I’ll be in touch,” she said, and hung up.
Jack had been looking for a house situated near the university for some time, in fact since his father had passed away. He still had the portfolio of shares from before his mother’s death – she had died a long time ago, some years before his father – but he had no intention of cashing those in as for the moment they were his collateral. His patience had been rewarded when he finally found what he wanted, a beautiful old four-bedroom house, which in itself was unusual for that part of the city which surrounded the university.
After he bought the house Jack had sought fellow students to move in with him and provide funds to add to his share portfolio by means of their rent. Four other students lived with him now; two single guys and a couple who fucked long and loud each night. The two single guys seemed to get off listening to the bonking couple. Had it been otherwise Jack would have asked them to leave. It didn’t worry Jack. Any studying that he did was at the library where he had access to reference books and he found it very relaxing being surrounded by the knowledge of his educators. Also with his photographic memory, once he had read a book it stayed with him for life. All in all, the arrangement worked very well and Jack’s housemates knew their landlord was held in awe by students and lecturers alike and could be counted on for advice whenever they were having difficulties with their various subjects.
His father had graduated as an engineer, both civil and electrical, and had been much in demand because of his dual degrees. He would regale the young Jack with stories of exotic locations throughout the world visited during his working life, and in the process he had learnt many languages. His dad retired from travelling when he was offered a position lecturing at the university and it was the chancellor who delivered the eulogy at the old man’s funeral.
On the day of the funeral and during the service, Jack’s mind returned to his childhood and to his parents. His mum had been a spiritual person while his dad was an academic. They would argue continually on the merits of each other’s outlook on life and death. His father’s argument centred round the concept of ‘how-could-you-know-if-there’s-life-after-death-if-you’re-still-alive’. Mum’s argument was more basic. If I'm wrong prove it! Dad knew only that two plus two equalled four because he was taught that way, whereas her argument was spiritually inspired, and no amount of logic would sway her beliefs. As their discussions would disintegrate into the ridiculous his father would say she was off with the fairies and his mother would retaliate by telling him he was off in a parallel universe. Jack remembered an instance when he was four years old. They put him to bed and thought he was asleep but he could hear them in their bedroom. Only later in life did he realise their little discussions were their way of courtship.
He clearly remembered the first time his father tested his abilities.
“Jack,” his father said, “when you learn to add up remember the final number has to be even.”
Jack looked up at his father, who seemed so tall his head almost touched the ceiling, and said, with hands on hip: “Well, Father, I have to disagree with you, because six plus five equals eleven which is an odd number and also in multiplication fifteen times fifteen equals two hundred and twenty-five and I know the number five is an odd number.”
It was many years later that Jack recalled that the look on his father’s face, as he smiled and walked away, was one of approval.
The other incident embedded in his mind was from the time he was around six years old when his father called him to come and help solve a problem. His father was standing behind a chair at the table and asked Jack to sit down. His dad put a piece of paper with a diagram of a square with two lines running diagonally from corner to corner in front of him, on each of the lines he had written the word ‘country’.
“What do you think that puzzle represents, Jack?” he had asked.
Jack thought he knew exactly what it meant but was afraid to say so in case it was one of the sneaky little traps his father loved to set for him. After a few minutes his father gently put his hands on Jack’s shoulders and said joyously:
“Jack, are you blind in one eye and can’t see out the other?”
“Huh?” said young Jack. “What do you mean, Father?”
“Son, I know you know what it means, the answer is simple, but you’re trying to complicate it because you think I’m tricking you. Isn’t that right?”
“You have done it to me before, Dad,” Jack retorted, smarting a little.
“That’s true son, but never let your judgement be clouded by past experiences. When you solve a problem and know in your heart you’re correct, don’t close your eyes and doubt yourself. Now, just for my benefit, what is the answer, Son?
“Oh Dad, don’t be silly! It’s ‘cross country’ of course,” he crowed.
“Ah, Jack my son, you’re a smart little rooster!” he said, patting him affectionately on the head, his face glowing with pride.
Thinking of his father, his mind wandered to thoughts of his mother. Jack felt a twinge of guilt, as he realised he didn’t think of her as often as he did his father. His mother’s belief in spirituality was the basis of his fondest memory of her from his pre-teen years. He was glancing through the business section of the newspaper, as you are inclined to do when you’re ten years old. He smiled at the thought of it now but back then it seemed so natural to him and his parents had never commented one way or the other about him doing it.
“Are you interested in the stock market, Jack?” she queried. Jack remembered telling her he was, but was obviously too young to set up an account with the thousand dollars he had saved over the years. “Well son, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. Your father and I will set up an account with a stock broking firm and with your thousand, plus a thousand of our own, you select the stocks and we will see how we go.”
“Who gets the profit?” he remembered asking his mum. His confidence in his ability was already beginning to surface.
His mother just laughed and said “Don’t get ahead of yourself, son, let’s wait and see if there is a profit!”
Jack never looked back after that. Even at that tender age his ability to research companies was excellent, with his father looking over his shoulder occasionally ‘to safeguard his investment’. Jack didn’t mind; he knew the day he ‘knew everything’ would be the day he failed. The stock market was a great destroyer of egos, his father had told him.
“Jack,” his mother said to him one day, “I’ve never asked you your beliefs because I’ve always respected people’s privacy, but do you believe in the spirit world?”
Jack laughed to himself thinking of all the times his mother and father would argue over just such concepts. He hadn’t really given it much thought, and he told his mother so.
“Son, because of your interest in the stock market, I’ll tell you of the prediction of an old North American shaman.”
His mother then retold the old woman’s prediction of the day in the twenty first century when the Dow Jones Index passed ten thousand points, and that everyone in the trading and banking world would think things were rosy. But, said the seer, within just two years of this momentous happening the market would collapse, along with many banks throughout America and the rest of the world. It will inflict great hardship on millions of families.
“Jack, whether you believe me or not is entirely your decision, I won’t be around much longer to guide you,” she said; and then walked away before the realisation of her comment had sunk in.
“Jack! Jack! Are you okay? The service is over,” his uncle’s voice pulled him back to the present.
“Yes I’m fine, Uncle Gerry; I was just daydreaming about Mum and Dad,” Jack replied.
“That’s only natural, son. Remember we’re only a phone call away if you need us,” his uncle had answered reassuringly.
As Jack was at university now, and he knew the money his father had left him was well-invested, he didn’t really expect that he would ever need to take his uncle up on the offer but he appreciated the gesture. Jack knew a chapter of his life had closed and, as his mother was wont to say, “Life and Death are only chapters of your being.” Jack laughed to himself. Every time his mother repeated the phrase to his father it drove the practical engineer crazy; maybe it was because he had no idea what it meant. Mum probably didn’t know either, but her efforts to frustrate Dad seemed to make her happy. “I wonder if people will tell any humorous little anecdotes to mark my life,” he pondered. If he could have looked into a crystal ball he would’ve rolled down the shutter on the future embarrassing episodes of his life there and then.
Jack had received his father’s money, but his dad had always told him he would give his house to a charity and the organisation could do as they liked with it.
“You’ll be at university Son, making your own way in life, and with the money I’ve left you you’ll be able to buy a couple of houses near the campus,” he had said. Jack didn’t feel cheated or angry at his father’s decision, it was only a house – although a very expensive one – and he was well aware his destiny was in his own hands. Throughout his short life he had practised controlling his emotions, especially anger. He’d learnt a painful lesson when he was only six after breaking four toes by kicking a stone out of frustration and discovering most of it was buried in the ground. “A real land-based iceberg,” he thought grimly as he had rolled in agony on the ground. He was too young to have known at the time of course that it was the best thing that could have happened to him, because in high school his self control would be severely tested.
The Friday night in question finally arrived and Jack made his way into the Hacienda. It was, as he had been told it would be, already crowded, and he surveyed the room until he spotted the man he recognised from the photograph to be Peter, talking to a man at one end of the bar. Jack didn’t know if the other man was the prospective client but seeing as how the toilets were at that end of the room in their general direction he thought it was a good as time as any to make his presence known, discreetly of course. He walked up to the two men and as Peter had his back to him he pretended to lose his footing and gently bumped him on the shoulder.
“Sorry, excuse me,” he said, pretending not to recognise Peter Alfred from his back view.
“Hello Jack. That’s okay, no beer spilt.” he said jovially, impressed by Jack’s imitation of an effeminate gay.
“Hi Peter, I didn’t recognise you from behind,” and realised his faux pas as the two men laughed. “You can buy me a drink later if you like,” Peter responded.
“It’ll be my pleasure,” Jack replied, hoping he appeared authentic as a young gay man out for the night.
To make the ruse convincing Jack carried on his way to the toilet and realised as he entered that it may not have been the smartest move he would make in his life. Several men were sizing one another up as they went about their business. Quick as a flash he darted into a cubicle and sat on the seat until he thought an appropriate amount of time had elapsed before flushing. “I hope it gets better than this,” he frowned.
It wouldn’t.
Upon returning to the bar he quietly but quickly moved around, terrified to stop in conversation for any length of time in case he was hit on, or worse. His imagination was playing tricks on him and in his mind all of the men in the room were drooling at the prospect of fucking him. “I’ll go crazy if this Peter doesn’t make contact with me soon,” he thought, as sweat started to break out on his forehead. Jack was so strung out sitting on his own and feeling like a rabbit in the headlights of a car, he was having trouble controlling his mounting paranoia. “At last,” he said out loud as he saw his client heading towards him.
“I’ll have that drink now, Jack darling,” Peter said mischievously as he put his arm around Jack’s shoulder. Jack gave him a nervous smile as he gently removed his arm and rose to go to the bar. After Jack had returned with two beers he started to explain what was going on.
“The guy you saw me talking to owns GD Hi-Fi and Electronics which he intends to float as a public company with the listing of the shares in the near future. My company feels there could be good money to be made in the underwriting of the initial public offering. It’s a well-respected brand and the way technology’s exploding we, at McLaughlin Investment Bank, believe it’s a good bet. If I’m the one to sign him up, it can only be a plus for my career, not to mention a huge bonus. As you can imagine by our little act, Rodney’s been in the closet all his life and has no intention of coming out. I only found out about him by sheer chance through a couple of gay friends in my apartment building; they think you should be either in or out, not both. That’s where you come in, Jack. I want him to think I’m a like-minded person and then I’ll hopefully build rapport with him, so that he’ll have enough confidence in me to give my company his business. I call him the IPO man, and I pray our pretence works accordingly.”
Jack took a liking to Peter automatically and he could see he was a straight shooter so he decided to ask him: “What if he wants to fuck you, Peter?”
Peter laughed, “Yeah, that’s a worry, Jack, but I’m hoping I’m too old for him and that’s why I want you to pretend that there may be a future for us, if he asks you at any stage. I mean, Jack, apart from my wife, you’re the only man I love!”
Jack laughed nervously at the statement, and realised Peter was doing his best to put him at ease. Anyone who would go to such extremes just to get an account was headed for the top. Jack and Peter sat talking about anything and everything except work and Jack, who was usually very shy about his accomplishments, found himself speaking to Peter more openly than he normally would, but he did stop short of bragging about his phenomenal memory and that his medical degree was virtually finished – eighteen months earlier than those who'd begun the course with him.
Jack, however, was always ready to take advantage of any luck that came his way, so he made sure Peter knew about his interest in the stock market and that he’d been investing since before he was a teenager. Jack felt the planets might align perfectly for both of them – hopefully in the years ahead – and each would walk away satisfied. He knew he had been given many gifts but he couldn’t bring himself to think he was special.
The two men did their best to make it appear that they were having an intimate conversation in the dimly lit club and Peter would occasionally sneak a peek at his prospective client over Jack’s shoulder. The night wore on and Peter’s new ‘friend’ even threw him a kiss, “Must be getting pissed,” they both said, and laughed.
“I can see you ending up in deep shit if he starts getting any bolder,” Jack said, nodding towards Peter’s friend. Peter looked at him and realised Jack didn’t have a clue what his comment implied. He couldn’t help himself, and he burst out laughing.
“What did I say?” Jack asked innocently and then the realisation hit him and he went bright red and began to splutter an apology. Peter thought he’d better help him out.
“Jack, we’ve been sitting here for over an hour now,” he remarked, glancing at his watch. “What I propose is to pretend to have a phone call in case he’s watching, then I’ll go over and tell him it was nice to meet him and that I’ve got to leave but that you’re staying for a while, then going home to study. I’m going to keep it all low key. I don’t want to frighten him off. Basically I’m using you as bait to get to know him.”
Jack grimaced but said nothing. “I’ll come back over to you, say goodbye and leave,” Peter explained. “Jack, I’d love you to hang around for a while after I’m gone to see if he’s curious enough about us to make contact with you. If he does, and the chance arises, try to work my phone number into the conversation, but if it’s not possible don’t push it, we’ll get a chance another time.”
Jack was praying there wouldn’t be another time.
Peter proceeded with his plan and after a few minutes returned to where Jack was sitting. “Well Jack, have you got any ideas on how a couple of fake gays say a convincing goodbye to each other, because I don’t?” Jack did have a plan and not having thought too much about it he wanted to execute it before he chickened out. Without hesitation, Jack placed his palms on either side of Peter’s face and kissed him full on the lips. It only lasted a split second but it startled Peter so much that his tongue darted into Jack’s mouth as he opened his own mouth to gasp in surprise.
“Shit! Jack, what the fuck are you doing?” he said, as he fought desperately to control his emotions.
“Relax Peter,” said Jack as he looked out of the corner of his eye and caught the IPO man watching them. “I had to do something spontaneous to convince him we’re interested in one other, and I was damn sure I wasn’t going to put your cock in my mouth even though I know you’d enjoy it!”
“I suppose you’re right,” Peter replied, as he recovered quickly from the experience. “I probably would enjoy it, I never realised you were going to fall for me so quickly – and it’s only our first date.” He laughed and reassured him that he was playing his role to perfection, seeing as Jack was becoming uncomfortable about what he had done and said.
“Just remember, Peter, when this is all over, we keep what happened tonight just between ourselves. Already regretting his impulsiveness. I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty sure I would’ve chickened out if I’d put a bit more thought into what just happened here. Fortunately for you, Peter, my word is my bond so, as the saying goes, I may as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb, so fuck off out of here and let me finish baiting the trap for you!” Jack said good-naturedly, again becoming immersed in his role-playing.
Peter looked straight into Jack’s eyes, and again offered his encouragement. “For someone who’s never done this sort of thing before, son, you’re good, very good. If all of this comes together, Jack, I won’t forget.” Then he left.
Jack wandered around the club keeping away from the IPO man. He figured if their act had been convincing then curiosity would eventually get the better of him. “Best he makes the first move,” Jack thought to himself. “Looks as if we weren’t as good as we had thought we were,” Jack pondered, as the IPO man made no attempt to introduce himself. “Well, I’ve stayed here longer than I wanted to, been propositioned by two men and only fobbed them off with the old ‘exams tomorrow’ excuse, not to mention the number of gropers who want a free feel when you’re not looking. No, I think I’ve earned my money tonight – and then some,” Jack thought to himself knowing he had given it his all.
Without another glance Jack walked out of the main door and was confronted by a familiar face standing on the pavement in front of him. It was the IPO man. “How did he get out here without me noticing?” Jack wondered. As if expecting the question, the IPO man laughed and said to Jack:
“There’s another doorway in the men’s toilet that leads out into the beer garden, which has another entrance on to the side street, that’s how I beat you out here.”
“A cunning move,” thought Jack. “It lessens his chances of being seen by casual passers-by at the main entrance.”
“What can I do for you?” Jack asked, still role-playing.
“Are you and Peter close?” the IPO man asked casually.
“We’ve been out a couple of times,” Jack said, not sure how much Peter had told him about their fake relationship.
“It’s just that I saw the both of you getting pretty cosy in there, so I suppose what I’m trying to ask is are the two of you an item?”
Jack didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or panic, this was getting a bit more involved than he expected. “Oh well,” he thought, “it looks like the sheep stage has come, I may as well go in boots and all.”
“We haven’t really discussed it; as I told you we’ve only been out a couple of times and I’ve still got my studies to complete,” he explained.
“May I give you a lift home?”
Jack’s mind began racing, even though he had expected the question, he hadn’t fully made up his mind about how he would handle it.
“But you don’t even know my name,” Jack said, trying to stall for time.
“We’ll have to fix that right now. My name is Rodney,” the IPO man replied.
“I’m Jack,” he said as they shook hands, again wondering what Lynette had got him into, and, more importantly, would she even care. “Not bloody likely!” he thought.
“Nice to meet you Jack, now what’s your answer, yes or no?” he asked, pressing him for a response.
“Uh?” Jack said slightly confused.
“The lift home, Jack. Would you like me to drive you home and maybe we can talk and get to know each other on the way?”
Jack didn’t own a car – he was a modern urban dweller – he always took cabs, and even though Rodney’s words were innocent enough, he was worried about keeping faith with Lynette and Peter, not to mention keeping faith with his own arse. After Jack had resolved his internal argument they made their way to Rodney’s car parked in the car park of the club, and Jack got into the passenger seat of the “fashionable sporty little vehicle”. Jack’s knowledge of vehicles makes and models was definitely his weakest link and even though he had a driver’s license for emergencies that was as far as his interest in cars had extended. He told Rodney the same ‘must get home to study’ story he had told the guys inside the club and hoped that would keep him satisfied.
“That’s fine with me,” Rodney said. “I’m not the lecherous type, Jack, I like to get to know a man first and if we aren’t attracted to each other then there’s no harm done.”
It sounded good to Jack but Rodney’s hand on his knee as he said it told him that his chauffeur wouldn’t mind taking things a little further. “Shit,” thought Jack, beginning to sweat, “what if he slides his hand up my leg? What do I do? Slapping him is definitely out, or is that what another gay person would do if they rejected his advances? Do I just remove his hand and maybe make him suspicious? What does a woman do? It must happen to them all the time.” These thoughts were running through Jack’s mind before Rodney finally removed his hand, leaving Jack free from having to make that decision.
Jack’s plan was that he would get Rodney to drop him off at a house where the student tenants were good friends of his; one of them, also a medical student, had started his first year with Jack and was completing his degree albeit more slowly. The students’ house was just one street away from his and so he could be home in a flash. He was sure Rodney would watch him go into the house but he had already taken that into account when he formulated his plan. A rough plan undoubtedly, but still a plan.
On the way home Jack did his best to get information out of Rodney – anything that might be useful to Peter.
“What do you do for a living Rodney?” Jack queried innocently.
“I work for a bank,” he said.
“Oh, which bank?” trying to sound conversational.
“It’s an investment bank mainly for big companies to access when they need financial assistance. It’s not your regular over-the-counter type if you understand what I mean,” he replied.
Jack knew exactly what he meant. When someone has been investing in the stock market for as long as he had, if they are half smart they will have gleaned a lot of information along the way. It was blindingly obvious to Jack that both questions had been answered with a lie, but Jack could understand Rodney’s reasons for being cautious. It was one thing to be a full-on gay, but Rodney had to walk a dangerous tightrope having a family and satisfying his alternate urges without being discovered. Peter had been able to squeeze his occupation into his conversation with Rodney, and so he in turn was only parroting information that Peter had provided.
Jack suddenly had a flash of brilliance and a diabolical idea came to him, one he hoped that would extricate him from this mess. “I must discuss it with Peter ASAP,” he said to himself.
Jack decided to steer clear of any more personal questions and, if he was honest with himself even though it had only been one night, quite frankly he was completely over being gay.
They had just driven past Jack’s street and he directed Rodney to turn right at the next one. “If my friends are true to form they’ll be out on the veranda having a few drinks,” he thought to himself. A couple of them performed a stand-up comedy act on Saturday nights at a comedy club so they’d most likely be at home rehearsing their routine, or so he hoped. Rodney pulled up outside the house as directed.
“May I have your phone number, Jack?” Rodney asked pleasantly.
“I don’t see why not, you seem like my type,” said Jack, invitingly although tiring of using his false effeminate voice and praying for the night to be over.
Jack had anticipated this question and if his scheme worked, technically everyone would be happy. He knew Peter hadn’t got to the stage of swapping numbers with Rodney so he figured he was on safe ground when he gave Peter’s instead of his own. Jack looked intently at Rodney’s face as he glanced at the number making sure his assumption was correct. Rodney folded the piece of paper and put it in his wallet without another look.
“What about yours?” Jack asked mischievously knowing full well Rodney wouldn’t be forthcoming.
“Maybe next time, Jack, when we’ve gotten to know each other better,” Rodney replied not unkindly. This time there was no mistaking the implication of those words, reflected Jack.
“Well give me a call when you’re ready,” Jack said as he got out of the car.
“My friends here usually know where I am if you can’t find me, or you can’t get a hold of me on the phone.”
Jack hoped that statement would allay any fears that it was a set up when Rodney realised he had Peter’s number instead of his own. If he fell into the little trap Jack was setting for him, then he would be grateful he didn’t get more involved.
“Would you like to come up and meet my friends, Rodney?” Jack said, still maintaining his gay persona.
“No thanks Jack, it’s getting late. I’d better get home, but thanks for your number. I will call you soon, okay?”
After he watched Rodney’s car’s tail lights disappear round the corner and back onto the main road, Jack thought with a sigh, “Now, do I try and explain to these party animals what I’ve been up to or leave it until tomorrow?” as he trod wearily up the stairs onto the verandah to explain his presence. One look at their glazed eyes told him to leave it for another day.
“Where have you been Jack?” one of them slurred.
“Yeah Jack, who’s your boyfriend? Who’s the bloke who brought you home?” they asked. Jack laughed as best he could; they’d find out soon enough what he had been up to. Right now he needed a beer, or two or three!
Each morning of his life since he’d begun his martial arts training and meditation Jack had always completed a couple of hours of exercise. Waking up on the floor of his friends’ house, Jack wasn’t too sure he would be able to complete his routine this time. He wasn’t a big drinker so half a dozen light beers affected him more than his more seasoned friends. They all arose as if the sun had never set and enjoyed a hearty breakfast while waiting for Jack to clear his head and explain why he stayed the night with them after being dropped off by a stranger.
He explained what had happened the night before making sure they realised it was a job for Lynette – they all knew he did escort work. From stories he’d told, everyone had enough jokes to fill a library and this latest escapade would be a bonus for them! He expected to be ribbed about it and they didn’t disappoint him. They ran the gauntlet of all the homosexual jokes, and when they settled down he went into detail of what he wanted them to say if Rodney came by looking for him. Jack hoped he would think the phone number mix-up was an honest mistake and not be overly suspicious that Peter Alfred was in on his scheme as well.
As Jack walked back to his house, he could only think of the mess he had allowed himself to become embroiled in. Shaking his head he could only say to himself, “Never again Jack, never again!” But it was in Jack’s nature to be optimistic; he knew that if they pulled this off Peter would be as happy as a pig in mud – just as he and Lynette would be.
Weeks went by and apart from a follow up call from Lynette, Jack had heard nothing. His friends had told him that Rodney had come around and was not too impressed when they told him Jack’s story, but the good news was that he appeared to have believed them, and in the final analysis that was what counted. “No news is good news,” thought Jack, not wanting to delve any further into the end result. He had already inflicted his own demons on himself by his actions on the night. These doubts were in conflict with his usual logical thinking and maybe for the only time in his life he was confused.
Jack was concentrating on completing his medical degree which really, if he thought about it, didn’t require a lot of effort. His ability to commit facts to memory was so easy for him that he felt embarrassed for other students when they caught him doing it. Jack had memorised all the medical text required for his degree in the first year which only left him the practical side of medicine to marry up with the theory side – and he’d be on his way to perfecting his skills. He drove his lecturers mad constantly enquiring about operating techniques, and who would be the best surgeons to train under. Jack was a driven young man and practising medicine was only one of the many ambitions he had in store for himself. His thirst for knowledge didn’t stop at the university, he knew he could learn plenty from life itself, and that’s what he intended to do. What price he might eventually have to pay was not on Jack’s radar.
At the time he was looking for another house to buy, hopefully one with two levels where he could enclose the lower floor. He would have to install a shower and a small kitchen but it would be worth it, especially if he could find one that could accommodate up to eight students. Since his night with Peter he kept his mind busy trying not to analyse why he had pulled that kissing prank on Peter at the Hacienda. Even saying the word ‘kiss’ made him cringe. He found his thoughts of the night could be rather unsettling.
One morning, just before he went to a lecture, Jack received a call from a real estate agent to tell him he might have a house for him. Jack wheedled the address out of him and agreed to meet him there the following afternoon which he knew would give him enough time to do some investigating.
The next day Jack was preparing to leave his house and meet the agent when his mobile phone chirped. I love this modern technology he mused as he answered it.
“Hi Jack, its Lynette, how are you?”
“Fine thanks. As a matter of fact I’m off to inspect a house,” he replied.
“How long do you think it will take?” Lynette enquired, her hand getting perilously close to her nipple.
“Oh, maybe half an hour, tops. Is that okay?” Jack asked, “There’s nothing wrong is there?” he said, again recalling that disturbing night with Peter.
“No, nothing’s wrong. I’d like you come into the office and go over a couple assignments with me,” Lynette replied lying through her teeth. Jack had often been called into her office to discuss trivial things regarding clients; he suspected Lynette only did it as an excuse to have a chat.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can, Lynnie. Will you be able to wait that long for me?” he teased. He only called her Lynnie when he was extremely contented.
“I’ll take Valium to calm my beating heart, Jack,” she laughed as her breast began to get a workout.
“Oh God,” she smirked to herself, “the pleasure I’m going to get out of this conversation.” Aloud she said “That’ll be fine Jack, don’t rush to get here. When you can is fine.” and hung up.
Jack met the agent at the house for an inspection. The house looked in good order, considering virtually all the houses in the vicinity of the university had been built in the Second World War era. There was a certain style to the houses built then; they had all been built with hardwood cladding, and the timber was as good as the day it was fixed. Most of them had been built on the traditional long ‘stumps’ which not only helped keep the houses cool through the long, hot, humid summers with the flow of air, but also allowed space beneath – many were usually enclosed with timber batten walls which eventually defeated the original purpose – for garaging, tool storage, a primitive laundry and whatever else aspiring 1940’s home-owners had wanted. He liked the high ceilings which helped keep the old houses cool when the temperature rose above twenty-eight degrees centigrade for over six months of the year. The kitchen looked relatively new and Jack glanced at the laminated bench tops, the good old stand by for surfaces in kitchens. “I wonder how long people will keep using it,” he thought. The three bedrooms were adequate and he’d already made his mind up that if downstairs was presentable he’d make an offer for it.
Once he walked downstairs he was sold. The old wooden stumps had been replaced with steel posts and the previous owners had concreted the whole under-house area, erected walls round a part of the outside under the upstairs bathroom, and had installed an en-suite in the corner where the washing machine also sat – Jack liked the idea of a bathroom-cum-laundry; that would make things even better for him and his plans. “Too good to be true,” Jack thought to himself, not believing his good luck. “I’ll enclose the remainder of the outer walls, put some partitions up to divide it into four single bedrooms and a small lounge area, and a kitchen.” he envisaged. “Now,” he thought, “if I make sure I get students in here that aren’t the partying kind, I should be able to keep the council off my back.” Jack had no intentions of submitting the alteration plans for council approval because he knew they wouldn’t be approved. He would worry about the re-sale consequences later on.