THE GENTLEMEN'S CLUB
Duncan

Written by Lady Poetess
egiggles at moose-mail.com
http://www.asstr.org/~bbp

Please do not reproduce on any website without permission. This
story has no resemblance to anyone dead or alive.

ONE

"You sit down and don't try to move or anything." Duncan James
adjusted the rear mirror of his battered Toyota. "You're lucky I'm
a nice man. Any other bounty hunter would've pumped a clip into
your ugly ass."

The handcuffed man, tied around the legs and gagged in the mouth,
predictably didn't say a word.

"All set to go?" Dunk didn't wait for the man's angry muffled
curses. He chose instead to answer his call as he drove. "Mom?"
His mother always called at the most inconvenient times. "That
sound?" Dunk gave the guy behind an ugly look. One more kick in
the backseat and the man would be toast. "Just some dog barking.
Yes, it's still daylight here, so we can talk. Business is good.
Sales are hitting the roof."

It was an old story Dunk had perfected. To his family back in
Manchester, he was a successful sales manager over here in
America. Why should he want to disappoint her? She sent him over
here to her brother when Dunk was ten and minus a father, because
Dunk was running wild. Dunk would hate to break her heart by
letting her know that he was a bounty hunter consorting with the
very low-lives she sent him here to get away from in the first
place.

Soon he became so used to his lies that he began telling everybody
in England that he was a sales manager. He knew shit about bills
of lading or letters of credit, but he was a pro with pugilism and
some simple firearms. Somehow he didn't think people would respect
him for that, though, and if it was one thing Dunk wanted more
than anything in this world, it was acceptance and respect from
the posh bastards Dunk always envied and wanted to be.

He had the looks. His dimpled grin and roguish airs could get him
accepted into posh circles if he wanted to, but that way would be
via the bedroom window, and he didn't want that. It wasn't
respectable. The best way was by making lots of money and becoming
one of them. If he was patient, he might catch enough bond-
breakers in the next twenty years to get enough money.

"Sure, Mom, I'll visit this Christmas. Did I tell you I was the
top salesperson in the company? I'll be getting a big bonus."

Oh, he was lying right through his nose. Shoot, really - if he was
a bad son, well, at least his mother would sleep easy. Ignorance
was fucking bliss.



Dunk placed his socked feet on his oaken work desk and switched on
his battered computer. He rarely spent his hard-earned money
except on the really necessary, and he still wore the same clothes
that he had three years ago. Hell, they still fit, right? His sole
purchase of extravagance was this heavy and sturdy table more
suited to a sophisticated office rather than Dunk's cramped and
small rented apartment. But Dunk liked the table - he saw one just
like it in a photo of some millionaire's office.

Frowning at the amount of spam in his mailbox- maybe he ought to
give those spammers a surprise visit, hell, he might even get a
medal for his ridding the world of these bastards - he became very
trigger happy with the delete button that he almost deleted an
email from dear Lee Ryan.

His spirits lifting considerably as he opened the email, his smile
was instinctive as well as habitual. Dear Lee - the Englishman
found Dunk one day by virtue of a mistyped email address a year
ago, and they had been exchanging emails ever since. Lee was
funny, Dunk gave him that - Lee's emails were always filled with
droll and acerbic wit that provided the perfect boost for Dunk's
evenings.

Of course, Lee assumed that Dunk was a sales manager. The man was
a sales manager too, and it was from Lee that Dunk learned of the
phrase "bills of lading". But while much of Dunk's exterior was
made-up, his emotions and feelings that he expressed in his emails
were real. He couldn't help me. Lee became his punching bag,
shrink, jokester, and partner-in-crime, even if Dunk had to make
up imaginative twists to fit his apprehensions into the life of a
"sales manager".

But today, Dunk cursed when he read the email from Lee. "Shit!"
Who was the jackass that made pens this sharp, he wondered as he
sucked on his bleeding thumb where the pen punctured it in his
shock.

"Coming down to NYC for weekend. Let's get together and compare how
much we have been bullshitting each other this whole year. Lee."

Fucking hell.

Fucking, fucking - oh shit - hell.



TWO

"I had a pen pal when I was thirteen or so. It turned out that he
wasn't a fifteen-year old football captain but some skinny, geeky
weirdo with bad breath." Tobey Maguire sighed. "My first brush
with disillusionment," he concluded as he rolled the dice. "Damn."

"That's my property. Hotel - let me see, that will be $400." Jeff
Timmons then turned to Dunk. "Everybody lies to pen pals. It's a
cosmic rule. Who knows, Lee is probably some weirdo you will want
to ditch at first sight."

"Lee will never lie to me," Dunk growled.

"Don't be pathetic. Jeff, that's mine. $350 please," said Gale
Harold. "For all you know, Lee could be straight. Or worse, some
curious straight guy who is all trade and will not want anything
more than you sucking his dick."

"That's unnaturally bitter for you," Jeff commented. "Speaking
from experience, Gale?"

"Guess. Anyway, Dunk, meeting pen pals is never a good idea. It's
disappointment waiting to explode in your face."

Dunk refused to believe that. Lee would never lie, he told himself
stubbornly.

He handed two hundred dollars to Tobey, who had just passed go.
They were playing Monopoly, using real money. Dunk was appointed
the banker, though, which was good because playing a game like
this could easily put him back a few grand that he never had.
Instead, he just watched the game and handled the $18,000 the
other three members handed over before the game. The object of the
game was to see who would lose all their $6,000 first.

It was a sick game in Dunk's opinion. But these guys were so rich,
six grand was probably their daily lunch money. Dunk would have
resented these guys if they weren't so nice and accepted him as
one of them after he helped Gale caught an ex-partner who was
embezzling from him. If Dunk had cleaned up his accent and
unconsciously took on the manners and body language of these guys,
they never commented on it and Dunk never told them of his morning
ritual of practicing his speech and educated accent before the
mirror. He never told them that he was jealous of Jeff's vast
collection of old 60's records, Gale's collection of vintage wine,
and Tobey's acceptance into any social circle. Dunk wanted to be
one, or all three, of them bad.

"Anyway, if I'm Lee, I'd be happier to meet a dangerous-looking,
rakish bounty hunter rather than a boring sales manager," said
Tobey. "With your dimples and eyes, you'd knock over this guy in
no time."

"Don't let Wes hear that, or he'll hurt me," Dunk said as laughter
erupted from the table.

Tobey was a genuinely nice guy, although Dunk suspected that
sometimes there were thoughts in Tobey's head that would shock
people who perceived him as an always nice guy. Tobey was sleeping
with his polar opposite, wasn't he? Gale, on the other hand,
looked like an aloof and proud rich toff, but he was actually even
nicer than Tobey, with an apparent inability to muster up a temper
or malice. Jeff could be cruel sometimes, but he never meant any
harm. Unlike Tobey and Gale, Jeff was an easy-going rich bum who
viewed life as a perpetual playground for him.

Maybe these men weren't typical of the upper class strata,
although Jeff might fit the stereotype, but they were the only
links Dunk had to that elusive strata. It occurred to him more
than once that Lee, the son of a senior partner of the
international law firm Thompson, Marriott, and Associates would
fit in nicely with Tobey, Gale, and Jeff. Dunk would never fit
into Lee's world, even if he badly wanted to.

Maybe he ought to put up some excuses to avoid meeting Lee, like
his instincts told him to. But he couldn't obey himself even if he
wanted to. Every part of his being was humming with anticipation
at seeing the very person who had brought him the best moments in
his life, and he found himself balking at the very notion of
seeing Lee from afar, anonymous. He was finding it hard to say no
to Lee even when Lee was a faceless, anonymous stranger. No, not a
stranger, he corrected himself. Just someone he wasn't prepared to
lose yet.

"Tell you what," Gale interrupted Dunk's thoughts. "I'll lend you
my penthouse."

Dunk gaped at him. "What?" Surely he couldn't have heard Gale
correctly.

"Yeah, my place. Orli and me are going away for the weekend, so
you can play around with my place with Lee. Sleep with him, work
up an excuse to break up with him, and then get on with your life.
(Tobey, $500.) Just don't touch my miniature railroad track and my
collection of wine, and we'll still be friends after this
weekend."

"Uh, thanks."

"That's very generous of you." Tobey said aloud what Dunk was
thinking.

"Hey, that's my hotel!" Jeff exclaimed.

"Too late, I've already rolled the dice and left your scrummy
hotel," Tobey told him.

"Fuck you. $400, Tobey, now."

"Get the keys from me at my office this Friday, lunch time," Gale
told Dunk. "I'll also tell you the maid's schedule, et cetera."

"Gale, I can't possibly - "

"Yes you can," Jeff told Dunk. He eyed Dunk from head to feet.
"You may have to lose those clothes too. Mine can't fit yours
though." Jeff's shoulders were broad enough to tear the seams of
Dunk's shirt, not to mention the man's powerful biceps. "Tobey?"

"Yeah," Tobey said, eyeing Dunk's waist dispassionately. "Shirts
and T-shirts from me, no problem. But there may be a problem with
the trousers, unless you put on an extra inch or two in the next
few days. Collect some stuff from me on Thursday evening at my
place."

"Get Biehn to loan you a few," Gale suggested.

"He won't," Tobey said.

"Yes he will. Just ask his guy, Richard nicely. If anyone can talk
that flaming queen Biehn into handing out freebies, it's Richard,"
Jeff said. "Oh hell, let me do it. Richard still owes me $300 from
last week's poker game, and I'll waive that if he'll get Biehn to
lend out a few cool pants."

Dunk could stare at the three men. They had an expression on their
faces akin to bored rich men playing a game of making a monkey the
Cinderella of the day. Normally Dunk would be pissed off that he
was the object of their amusement, but right now, he was eager to
play along too. If he could have Lee for only a weekend, he would
make sure it was the best weekend for them both.



THREE

Lee Ryan was nervous. He was doing something he had never done
before - safe, predictable Lee was meeting a man he only knew from
his emails. Dunk was a charming man whose occasional insecurities
and gutter language made Lee laugh as much as Dunk's irreverent
but insightful outlooks in life. This was it, then. No doubt after
this meeting, he would either be very good friends with Dunk or he
would lose Dunk. Either outcome would mean a change in the status
quo Lee held dear. But Lee was tired of being safe. He wanted more
with Dunk. He liked stability in his life, but at twenty-five, he
was bored with the predictable and safe men who would only fuck
him on weekends.

Dunk, despite his job as a sales manager, was wild, exuberant, and
irreverent to social rules. That was the impression Lee got from
the man's emails. Having never met anyone like that, Lee became
fascinated and eventually enthralled by Dunk. He made up
fantasies, imagined what Dunk looked like, and even wondered how
Dunk was as a lover. Hence, today.

What did Dunk look like? Where was Dunk, anyway? Lee looked around
the airport. Dunk knew what Lee looked like - Lee had sent the man
a JPEG scan of his photo a few months back. Since Dunk kept
writing, Lee assumed that he wasn't hideous to Dunk.

Wait, surely that man wasn't Dunk. Lee couldn't imagine a sales
manager looking like that rugged-looking bloke who seemed to be
everything mothers of the world warned their children against.
Dimples from heaven, a body made to sin, and - Lee checked
discreetly - a butt to die for. "Dunk?" he squeaked.

"The one and only." Dunk's grin was pure carnal invitation that
sent shivers up Lee's spine and a burst of heat down to the very
root of his cock. Dunk's eyes gleamed - the man liked what he saw
in Lee. "You look great."

"So do you," Lee managed to say, albeit in a breathless way. He
worried a little - Dunk was too handsome, too attractive, and
hence too dangerous, and Lee's old habit of wanting boring safe
men resurfaced briefly. But he couldn't fight the devastating
attraction of Dunk's sinful good looks and the way Dunk was
looking at him as if Lee was everything Dunk wanted. Lee wasn't
that good-looking. He was the epitome of the boy next door, a far
cry from Dunk's looks, a poster boy for rogues from the bad and
dangerous to know department. "You don't look like a sales
manager," he said lamely.

"How does a sales manager look like?"

"They usually wear glasses," Lee said stupidly. He wore contacts.

"I can wear one," Dunk murmured huskily, and Lee shivered in
delight.

"Oh, my manners. I'm not usually this rude," Lee told him hastily.
"I hope jet lag and nervousness are an adequate excuse for my
boorish behavior." He was just caught off-guard by Dunk's
appearance, an understatement if that was one.

Dunk lifted the heavy bag Lee had been struggling with as if the
bag was as light as feather. Lee watched as the biceps of the
other man strained in a way that resonated with pure virility.
"Why, Lee, I don't think there's much I can't forgive you for.
Shall we get some bite?"

Bite me, Dunk. "Okay, sure."

Dunk slipped his free hand into Lee's, again catching the man by
surprise. But Lee squeezed back reassuringly, and with their
fingers intertwining each other's, this, Lee thought, this was the
most correct feeling he had ever felt in a long time.



How did they end up here? Lee closed his eyes as he pressed his
cheek onto Dunk's hard-muscled chest and listened to the rhythm of
Dunk's increasingly rapid heartbeat. The sound of Dunk's coming
alive to him almost drowned out the soothing vocals of Chris Isaak
from the home stereo system blasting in the background.

They huddled on the couch, Lee acutely aware of Dunk's erection
bulge pressing against his thigh. He didn't do anything, yet,
because he was trying to collect his thoughts. Dunk made him feel
alive, as well as uneasy, as it wasn't just the man's looks. This
afternoon, Lee was admiring a very expensive watch at Phoenix's,
and later, Dunk would pull one out of his pocket. A gift to Lee,
he said. When pressed, Dunk admitted sheepishly that he had
shoplifted the watch. How did one shoplift a watch from a high-
security store just like that?

"You're not mad, are you?" Dunk had asked.

No, Lee wasn't. He was actually quite flattered. No one had stolen
anything for him before.

A lot of things about Dunk didn't gel. The man was unlike anybody
Lee had met. Dunk didn't look streetwise, he was streetwise, as he
pointed out the seedier side of lower New York to Lee. Then there
was his language, a strange mixture of charming Manchester gutter
and upper New York polish. It was as if Dunk was two different
people, Jekyll and Hyde minus the schizophrenia.

If Lee wanted unpredictable, he had one in Dunk.

Yet, more potent was this lack of urgency, just this tranquil
solace they found in each other's company, just lying here like
this. Lee let his hand cup Dunk's erection, and he heard the man's
soft groan. His fingers caressed the shape of the Dunk's pulsing
cock through the fabric - Dunk, naughty man, wasn't wearing
underwear - and even as he was stunned at the dimensions, he was
already letting the tip of his tongue moisten Dunk's lips, dry
with lust.

Maybe it was too soon, but when Dunk's mouth hungrily claimed Lee,
Lee didn't care anymore. If losing common sense was to learn of
this man's strengths and weaknesses to strengthen the strange and
alien feelings in Lee's heart, so be it. Let him be without common
sense. Let him - "I love you, Lee," Dunk whispered huskily. "I've
been for so long now. Can I fuck you?"

"Yes you may," Lee answered just as quietly, as if they were
afraid to break the silence of their heavy breathing. How could he
be sensible at the onslaught of these words? He felt light and he
could walk on air and sunlight.

He watched, they both watched, as he pulled down the zipper of
Dunk's trousers. That cock stood up erect from a heavy thatch of
fur, with thick veins pulsing with blood that suffused that cock
into glorious erection. Lee let his index finger run over that
smooth engorged crown, feeling the smooth, silky muscle made slick
and moist by the copious droplets of clear lubrication oozing from
that thick slit.

"Dunk, if you love me, you'll get rid of anyone else in your life
and fuck only me," Lee told him between urgent kisses. "I won't
share you with anyone."

"Nobody important in my life right now, except you," Dunk
answered.

Lee unbuckled his trousers as he kissed Dunk's Adam's apple and
pushed apart Dunk's now-unbuttoned shirt. Dunk's nipples were lush
and erect, and Lee just had to taste and nibble on them. His
fingers touched Dunk's perfectly formed pectorals and the hard-
ridged stomach, smooth and powerful, and he loved it, he loved
Dunk.

And he cried out in joy and pain as he spread his thighs and sat
down on Dunk's cock. He felt the crown stretch his anus like
nothing ever had before, and the tearing pain was excruciating for
a few seconds, before Dunk ruthless tore past and filled him to
the hilt. Staggering explosions of indescribable pleasures wracked
Lee in powerful waves, and he convulsed into a series of orgasms
that crested over him in consecutive surges.

"Dunk!" he cried as his fingers dug into Dunk's shoulders, drawing
blood. "I'm coming, oh, I'm fucking coming!"

It seemed another lifetime later when he finally felt the pleasure
ebb, and when his breathing stabilized. Only then he realized with
shock that Dunk was still hard and throbbing inside him. And Dunk
was slowly crying.

"Dunk?"

"I lied, Lee," Dunk sobbed. "I'm so sorry, but I lied. This is not
my house, and I'm no sales manager, alright? I wanted to tell you,
but I don't want to lose you. I'm just a fucking bounty hunter,
alright? I'm so sorry. Oh fuck, I'm so sorry!" Dunk reined in the
loud sob of his and turned away so as to not look at Lee. "Please,
just get off me and hit me."

"No." Denial, fury - all made Lee only dug his fingers harder,
drawing a hiss of pain from the other man. "Damn you! Damn you!"
he yelled. He didn't care. Damn this man for making him lose
control, only to confess his lies. Damn the fucking asshole!

"Lee?" But whatever Dunk wanted to say, it faded into a moan as
Lee began riding that cock hard. Dunk's hips began moving with the
rhythm. Lee didn't care for the pain that crested in him as they
began pounding at each other so hard that Dunk's buttocks lifted
right off the couch with each upward thrust, and their bodies met
with a loud hard wet slap of thudding flesh and crack of colliding
pelvic bones.

The orgasm caught Dunk in a powerful surge of seminal explosion
that had him spewing out what seemed like every drop in his balls
into Lee's scorched anus. And Lee convulsed in that another
glorious series of tiny little deaths that added up to one fiery
climax. They held on as Dunk pumped the last of his ejaculation
into Lee and Lee slowly returned to earth.

"I love you," Dunk whispered brokenly. "Lee, believe me, please."

"I know." Lee touched the man's lips with his finger. "We'll start
again. You, me, and. oh, did I tell you that I'm transferring
here? I'm going to live here, in New York."

"Can I live with you?" That sounded pathetic, but oh, what the
fuck, really.

"So you're a bounty hunter. Guns?"

"Yeah. And I'm a good one too."

"Tell me about it."

And Dunk did.
