THE GENTLEMEN'S CLUB
Alfredo

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

This had to be a dream. If this was a dream, Sebuel Castang wished
he'd never awake from it. He had a half-naked man in his arms, and
this man was the sexiest and most handsome creature Seb had ever
seen. Alfredo Santos laughed softly at Seb's delighted sounds when
Al nibbled playfully at one sensitive, very aroused nipple on
Seb's chest.

Al had dropped his trousers soon after they'd made it to his
apartment, and Seb could not take his hands off that thick, oddly
curved cock that throbbed like a very solid, very hard column of
raw and potent virility. He let his fingers roamed over the moist
and smooth crown, teasing its sensitive underside, and then let
them move down that thick shaft by following the ridges of the
prominent veins that pulsed under his fingertips. But it was the
tattoos on Al's body that fascinated Seb. As he pushed back the
unbuttoned shirt of the other man with his other free hand, he
studied in fascination the intricate floral patterns that
decorated the other man's body. Hyacinths, with long winding
stalks and leaves, were tattooed on Al's left side from just under
his armpit down to the middle of his left thigh. A rose surrounded
by thorns was etched onto the inside of Al's right upper arm,
while a belt of Celtic patterns encircled Al's waist.

"Wow," Seb could only say as he touched the tattooed belt.

"You like them?" Al asked. "I hope you do, because it's going to
be hard to get rid of them."

"Don't - not for me," Seb whispered as he buried his face in Al's
chest and luxuriated in the man's clean scent of slight cologne
and tangy male muskiness. "I can't imagine that - wow," he
babbled. How could he tell Al that he was just a simple, homely
fellow that never attracted larger-than-life hunks like Al? He
rarely had sex outside a relationship because he was not the type
that inspired people to uncontrollable passions. He was just a
simple guy with looks that would hardly fit the description of
earthshattering beauty. Al, on the other hand, was indescribably
beautiful, from his striking chocolate-colored eyes to thick,
sensual lips that promised decadent pleasures. Lips that, Seb knew
now, could kiss until Seb thought he had died and gone to heaven
and lips that could coax Seb's come to pour into that mouth until
Seb thought he had been drained of every drop in his balls.

But tonight was different from the blow jobs and heavy pettings
that they had been indulging in for the last few weeks. Tonight,
Seb knew they would finally take their relationship to a more
intimate level. That cock in Seb's hand would pleasure Seb in the
most intimate joining of flesh and Seb knew, if he permitted this,
that their relationship would never be the same again. He looked
forward to that even as he feared that Al would realize one day
that Seb was not as sophisticated and debonair as he. The last few
weeks were the happiest times of Seb's life as Al courted, danced,
wined, and sinfully pleasured Seb. Seb couldn't believe that Al
wanted him.

"Will you let me fuck you, Seb?" Al asked huskily.

"Yes," Seb answered the only way he could. "Please, Al."

He cried out in pleasure as much as pain when Al's thick cock
penetrated his vulnerable depths in a scorching slowness that made
Seb feel as if his spine was slowly burning in rapturous fires
from the base all the way to his brain.

"So tight," he heard Al whisper in a strained voice as Al
struggled to control his desire, "Seb, you've done this before,
right?"

Seb wanted to laugh - he was twenty-two years old, of course he'd
done this before! "It's just been a long time," he gasped as Al
slowly covered his body and kissed his shoulders tenderly even as
that cock buried itself deeper into Seb's pleasure-wrecked body.
"A year and a few months," he confessed.

"Wow," Al said.

"I know," Seb said dryly. Guys like Al didn't go long without,
while Seb's sex life was best described as the occassional
rainfall in a dry and barren desert.

"It's too bad you didn't fuck around with other guys more," Al
told him, "because this is it, Seb."

"This is what?" Seb asked, wondering when that man was going to
start fucking his brains out. What were they waiting for?

"I'm going to be the only man you'll be fucking from now on," Al
said.

"Come again?" Seb asked. Maybe he'd misunderstood the man.

"You're mine now, Seb," Al told him fiercely. "You've let me take
you. I won't let you leave me now."

He had to be dreaming, Seb thought - and he'd kill anybody who
woke him up from the dream with his own bare hands.

Al began his deep and steady thrusts, and Seb was swept away by
the pleasure, all his worries and doubts scattered by the building
climax that soon took him beyond all coherent reasonings.

Al, watching the man under him coming violently in pleasure,
smiled to himself. Mine, he thought, as he deepened his thrusts.
Lost in his pleasure, Seb never noticed how Al was far from being
as abandoned to the pleasure as Seb was. Alfredo Santos finally
allowed himself to come after Seb begged him to stop, and he held
Seb tight in his arms as the man slept. Sebuel Ezekiel Castang was
his now.

He'd lied to Seb. It was the only lie he'd told Seb, a lie that he
ruthlessly decided was necessary ever since he saw Seb in that
club and wanted the man with a keen desire that was never slaked
even after he'd fucked Seb. His friends thought he'd lost it,
because Seb was an ordinary-looking, somewhat scruffy guy - not
the usual type of men that Al, dubbed the Glittering One by
society observers in the media, collect, use, and reject on a
weekly basis. Indeed, Seb was a working class guy - a kind of
person that Al, who stood to inherit fifteen million dollars alone
from a trust fund come his thirtieth birthday, had never actually
came in contact with until that day when he and his friends,
exhaused from partying, decided to stop by Club Abracadabra for a
little bite and Seb was there, unable to sleep and forlornly
eating the cheapest sandwich on the menu because the man had been
unemployed for three months now. Al abandoned his friends and told
Seb that he was a struggling soap actor (he knew that with his
good looks, it was useless to pass himself off as a more middle-
class kinda person). Al never found a way to confess to Seb that
he was actually a playboy that had, somehow without Al knowing how
the fuck it happened, bitten the big one where Seb was concerned.

Maybe it didn't matter at all. He didn't have to do anything for
now. Maybe they would break up soon, if Al's own relationships
were anything to go by. Al would get bored of Seb eventually, and
the lie would have never mattered. Besides, Seb should be happy
that he'd managed to snag a rich charmer like Al, right? If Seb
found out about the real Al and was pissed, Al could buy that man
something expensive and they'd make up. Al's lovers in the past
always took him back when Al bought them things or go away without
raising a fuss when Al give them some nice and expensive fuck-off-
we're-done parting gifts.

Confident that there was nothing he couldn't handle, Al finally
allowed himself to sleep with his chin rested on Seb's shoulder.



TWO

"Hey, Santos!" Alan Gelfant shouted from where he was standing at
the trailer that doubled as the office on the construction site.
"I need to talk to you."

Wondering what it was now, or whether he was about to be fired at
last, Al wiped his sweat-soaked body with a towel before pulling
on his T-shirt. Seb had finally found work a month ago as a junior
clerk and in his misguided worry at Al's "jobless" state, had
managed to find a friend of a friend at his new workplace that
could give Al this job. Al had never worked before, much less on a
construction site, but he'd do anything to keep Seb's worry lines
from marring that cute face of his. It was awful at first though,
as Al was a walking disaster. He'd heard his boss Alan tell his
buddies that Al was the male bimbo he'd hired out of pity and
regretted his actions ever since Al proved that he could not even
hammer nails without injuring himself.

But that was then. Al knew people often mistook him for a dim-
witted male bimbo on the account of his looks and easy-going ways,
but he was not without the same traits that made his grandfather
and father respected and even feared business tycoons in the free
world. His dormant determination and intelligence were kindled by
the derision in Alan's tone and in the recent weeks, he'd worked
harder than any of his colleagues and he'd worked smarter and
better too. Alan had reluctantly accepted Al's suggestion about
taking some precautions that would avoid potential future zoning
problems, and Al felt like a million dollars - okay, a million
dollars more than the fifteen million plus that he was worth. His
friends thought he was mad, but Al felt good. He could cut down
his gym sessions because he was becoming actually fitter and more
energetic from his work at the site and he could finally eat real
beefburgers instead of worrying about calories. Who knew middle-
class suburban living was this fun?

And then there were the occasional evenings when he and Seb could
find time to go out - usually on Fridays - and Al liked Seb's
friends. He liked having to wear comfortable Gucci outfits (he
took the labels off and told Seb they were from K-Mart, just like
he told Seb about the clothes he bought for Seb) and he realized
he was pretty good in playing darts and drinking bad beer with the
guys. He didn't mind singing karaoke with Clay, Kimmel, and the
rest of Seb's colleagues, and he even enjoyed the gossiping. He
hated the gossips in his own circles before they were always
malicious in nature, but here, people gossiped in a good-natured
way about who was seeing whom and the chances of one getting
invited to the wedding soon. He rarely had straight friends since
he realized he was gay, but now he was mingling with people of all
races, sexuality, and tastes. Al was stuck in some bizarre
stereotypical suburban living and he was happier than he'd even
been in life.

Still, he was still the spoiled and bratty Al Santos and as he
walked to Alan Gelfant's office, he made a silent vow to buy over
this company and sack the man if Alan dared to fire him.

Nothing prepared him for the man waiting in the office though.
"Uh, hi, Brendan," Al finally said as he took a seat without being
invited to. "You're not looking for a job here, are you? Alan's a
fucking bitch of a boss."

"No, I'm not," the millionaire Brendan Fraser said, obviously
amused. "I'm the man your boss is sleeping with."

"Oh."

"I'm quite pissed when Brendan told me who you really are," Alan
said, walking into the office and shutting the door behind him.
"What the fuck are you doing, Santos? Is this some game you're
playing?"

"I'm your best employee," Al reminded him. "I'm working for you.
What do you think I'm doing?" Okay, so he would be fired. Big
fucking deal... Al realized, however, that he would actually miss
the guys at the site. He would miss the drop-dead sexy but so
oblivious TJ Hoban and his cocky nephew Jesse, he would miss the
stiff-lipped architect Pierre, he would miss hearing Cecil's
wartime stories, and Deborah, the sole women on the site, would be
as disappointed as Al that they would no longer work on the
planned musical remake of Flashdance in which Deborah would, of
course, star in.

"I was talking to your father the other day," Brendan mused. "He
told me that you told him that you're employed at some fashion
house. Your parents are pleased that you're finally shaping up.
They don't know that you're doing... this, do they?"

"Are you going to tell them?" Al challenged the man. Brendan
wasn't much older than Al, but when it came to maturity, Brendan
seemed ancient and indecipherable to Al. "I'd rather you not."
They would come down and drag Al away from what they believed was
a problem, like they always did. This time, Al wouldn't appreciate
their gesture. "I'm a good worker, am I not, Alan?" he asked his
boss.

"Yeah," Alan admitted. "He was an idiot when he started, unable to
even saw a plank straight, but he's a good worker."

"I'm not playing any games, okay?" Al told them both. "Keep me,
Alan, and I will keep working and improving. Yes, I don't need the
money. But I need this job." As he said the last sentence, Al
realized that it was true - he really wanted to keep living this
way. "I like this life better than my old one," he finally said,
realizing as he did that every word he glibly said was true.
"Okay?"

"Okay," Alan said. "Fine. But if you try anything funny, you're
out of here."

"Just because I'm rich, that doesn't mean I can't be serious. Does
the last month prove nothing about me?" Al asked him.

"He got you there, Alan," Brendan said with a chuckle.

Al winked at his boss and closed the door behind him.



THREE

Al was already cooking when Seb came home. Seb, as he often did,
paused at the doorway after he'd locked the apartment door and
inhaled the scent of something wonderful being made in the small
kitchen. Al couldn't cook when Seb met him, but as Al always said,
there was nothing cookbooks and a determination to make his man
happy couldn't fix. Al hadn't moved in - not officially - but he
was here more often that wherever it was he actually lived. His
clothes shared space with Seb's in the wardrobe cupboard, just as
his toothbrush and shaver were in Seb's.

He put his arms around Al's waist, hoping he wasn't doing this too
awkwardly (he wasn't good in demonstrating affections) and as Al
gave a pleasant "Hey!" of welcome, he kissed the slender nape of
Al's neck. "I miss you," he said. It was a daring thing to say for
Seb, as he was always so scared of saying these things only to
learn that the other person didn't care as much as he did.

"Well, I miss you too," Al said, not aware that no one had ever
said these words to Seb before.

And Seb tampered down the irrational urge to cry in joy. He was so
afraid that Al would one day come to his senses and leave him, but
when Al said those words, oh, how he wanted to believe every word.
For the first time, the cynical and defensive Seb Castang wanted
to believe that he was loved enough to be missed. "I love you," he
said before he could control his momentary weakness. "Al, I wish
you'll never leave me."

"I won't," Al said. "Hey, Seb, why so gloomy?" he protested gently
as he tried to turn to look at Seb.

Seb wouldn't let him. Desperate as much as he was aroused in Al's
presence, he tightened his arms around Al, the fingers of his
right arm reaching up to squeeze Al's left pectoral urgently. Al
didn't say a word, but he relaxed and spread his legs even as Seb
ripped at Al's jeans with crazed desperation. Al gasped softly as
Seb's cock forged into his anus, his fingers gripping the tabletop
hard as Seb clumsily thrust home a few times before Seb came with
an unsteady and hoarse cry.

Al sighed to himself as Seb moved off him. "What was that all
about?" he asked softly as he kicked off his jeans and threw off
his shirt for good measure. "Seb?" He bit his lips when he
realized that Seb was now crying softly. "Seb, what's wrong?" he
asked in concern as he got down on his knees to comfort the other
man.

"I'm so sorry, Al," Seb sobbed. "I'm so scared."

"Hey, come on, Seb. I know what you are feeling - "

"You do?" Seb asked, his tone disbelieving.

"You're not the first boyfriend I've had that gets insanely
insecure over me," Al said. "I know I'm a gorgeous fucker, but I
cannot do anything than to swear that you have nothing to worry
about. I'm here, I'm staying, Seb."

"Okay," Seb whispered, looking at Al with raw reddened eyes.

"How about me?" Al asked gently. "Who knows, you may just want me
for my looks alone," he teased Seb.

"You make me laugh and feel like nobody else," Seb told him.
"You're cute too."

"And you, Seb, is the first fellow to make me laugh," Al told him.
At Seb's look, he nodded solemnly. "One of these days, you should
watch me more carefully when I'm with other people. I don't like
people that much, Seb, I only tolerate them mostly, but with you,
when I laugh or feel mad, my feelings are real. And that's why I'm
with you. It's lust and also a little bit of love, Seb. You and me
- I want that to last as long as possible."

"Al, I'm sorry about just now," Seb said, crawling up to Al and
letting Al cuddle him.

"Make it up to me," Al suggested.

"How?"

"Damn, you fucked me like a complete goon, man," Al told him.
"You're gonna fuck me in the ass again, and this time you're going
to do it as good as I always do you."

"Okay. I'll try," Seb said. "I'm not as experienced as your old
boyfriends."

"But I'm here to teach you," Al said with a mischievous grin. "As
long as it takes."

"We've burned the lasagna," Seb noted.

"We'll just order a pizza," Al said, lifting Seb in his arms and
carrying him like a man would carry his bride.

Seb hang on to him. "I like how you always have a solution to
everything."

"I'm a very likeable man."

Seb was laughing even when Al threw him down playfully onto the
bed.



The phone rang later that night. Al's father had a heart attack.



"How was he?" Al cried as he ran up to his mother.

"He's okay," his mother said tearfully. "But he'll have to take it
easy," she tried to joke, but the exertion and the worry from the
last hour had taken its toll and she fell weeping into her son's
arms. Al held her and looked at Seb, who, looking around at the
people gathered in the waiting lounge, knew something was amiss.

But Seb's confusion would clear when Carlos, Al's brother, walked
up to Al and asked whether Al would come in to his father's office
tomorrow and talk to the board of shareholders. "Mom and Dad felt
that you've really proved yourself these last few weeks, and they
would like you to take over while Dad is recuperating," Carlos
told him.

Al looked at Seb, his heart breaking because he knew that the game
was up, as he told Carlos lifelessly, "I'll be there. I won't let
you down."



Seb looked up when Al finally walked up to him an hour later. "My
father will be okay. We can go home now."

"Okay," Seb just said. "I'll take a cab."

"I'm going home with you," Al clarified.

"But I thought..."

"Just because I am rich that doesn't mean everything else I said
to you is a lie," Al said, too weary to argue or pretend anymore.
"I don't know why I lied about who I am, chalk it up to colossal
stupidity, perhaps, but everything else I did or said or felt is
real. I love you. I love my life with you. And if you don't
believe me, right now I don't know what to say anymore. I'm too
tired. I'm sorry, Seb, I really am. But please, don't leave me
just because I was stupid that one moment." A sob escaped from
him. "Because right now, if you leave me, Seb, I can't stop you.
I'm begging you please, let me stay. I don't want to live a life
without you in it."

Seb wanted to flinch at the sight of the raw and painful
desolation on Al's face. The man was certain that Seb would never
forgive him. But like Al, he too was tired of the insecurities and
fears. He wasn't sure if these feelings would ever go away, but he
was determined to never let them get the better of him. In the
meantime, forgiving the contrite Al for one harmless lie when the
man had already given Seb his heart, soul, and body - it was
effortlessly easy on Seb's part.

"I won't lie to you again, Seb, I swear," Al whispered as he
staggered weakly into Seb's embrace.

Seb nodded as Al's tears soaked the fabric on his shoulder, and
held the man so tightly that Al sobbed in relief. "I told my
family that you're going to marry me and make me an honest man,"
he managed to half-sob, half-whisper to Seb. "And we'll - "

"Come on, Al, let's go home first. You can tell me everything when
you're feeling better," Seb told him.

Al leaned against Seb and Seb propped him as if he feared that Al
would fall. Al tightened his hold on Seb's shoulder as Seb put his
hand around Al's waist so that Al would be able to steady himself.

"I'm okay now," Al whispered.

Seb nodded, and they both walked towards the exit.
