THE GENTLEMEN'S CLUB
Cuba

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 was his last job. After this, he would be free to live a life
of lazy fishing, playing bingo with old coots, and maybe finding a
few nice guys every weekend for some fun and fuck.

While his bodyguard career was uneventful - there might be a few
royalty and Hollywood A-list clients, but never any bombs or
murder attempts - he did harbor some secret wish that he would end
his career with a bang. Which probably was why he agreed to do his
old friends Jeremy and Julian a favor and take this last case.
Julian promised that it would be pretty uneventful as the two men
and their underlings were working overtime to make sure it would
be, but Cuba knew that while Julian meant what he said all the
time, Julian's promises tended to go haywire.

It was a simple job, Jeremy had told him in a fax. He would take
one Michael Weatherly on his luxury cruise, the both of them would
lay low and mingle with the other gay couples onboard, and then he
would send Michael back when Jeremy or Julian sent word. Cuba made
a quick search and learned that Michael Weatherly was some sort of
Bruce Wayne of New York. The man was only thirty-two, but he had
made so much money from so many different ventures that he
invested those money in more profitable ventures that... well, he
had a stake in most powerful companies, making him a powerful,
almost omnipotent know-all guy. At the same time, he kept a low
profile. Cuba had never found a single photo of that man in his
research of journals and magazines and internet articles.

Not bad, what Michael did, for a man who was the son of a circus
performer called the Monkey Man.

Cuba paced Julian's office. Where was everybody? He wanted to eat
fancy luxury cruise food as soon as possible. He always wondered
how those square prawn-like things tasted.

However, he nonetheless stared at the man who walked in soon
after.

"You expect a walking gorilla?" the man who had to be Michael
Weatherly remarked dryly as he took a seat. "It's amazing what
electrolysis can do to excessive body hair. Try it sometime... or
not."

Cuba couldn't stop himself from rubbing his short-cropped hair.
Michael Weatherly was, no doubt in his mind, stunning. More than
stunning, really. At first glimpse, he seemed like a pretty GQ
model type, who Cuba would admire and then move on. The man's
aristocratic nose, sensual lips, and emerald-sapphire eyes
bestowed upon him an arrogance that seemed descended from a long
line of privilege. He wasn't just pretty - he commanded attention
like a general.

Those hands - Cuba noticed that the lower third of Michael's long
elegant fingers had heavy strands of hair. Michael already had a
thick stubble, despite it being only eleven in the morning. Every
other inch of the man's body was clothed in dark velvet brocade
and charcoal colors. This man was a hirsute Bruce Wayne melodrama
alright.

His question must have shown on his face, because Michael
Weatherly only smiled challengingly and unbuttoned the top button
of his shirt. Cuba's mouth dried and he felt his cock threatening
to burst from his pants as Michael undid another button, exposing
a triangle of tanned, well-muscled, but smooth flesh.

"I don't have a hair rug, but be assured there are hair around my
cock and at my armpits."

Cuba chuckled. "Look, man, I'm not comparing you to a monkey."

"Really?"

"Haven't anyone looked at you in admiration before? Because that's
what I'm doing. I'm ogling at you," stated Cuba, mildly frustrated
that he was. What was wrong with this man? Touchy, touchy, touchy.

Michael blinked. He actually looked befuddled at Cuba's words.
"Okay," he finally conceded.

"Look, if we are to do this well, we must be honest with each
other. That's my way. If you have any lovers, enemies, pets, in-
laws, anyone and anything that will add to the troubles we may
face later, please let me know. And I'll be honest with you too. I
like looking at you, but that's it."

"I like your honesty policy. I have no lovers at the moment, but I
always have enemies. As for my recent troubles, I'll let Julian
explain it to you." Michael crossed his legs and studied Cuba.
"Tell me again how beautiful you find me."

Cuba snorted. "You're full of crap." He grinned at the man, who
flashed a dazzling display of pearly white and straight teeth
back. "Unbutton all the way and we'll talk," he said in a husky
voice as his libido got a backhand from that smile.

Michael's hand released another button, and Cuba took a step
closer to him.

"Sorry I'm late. Traffic is hell," said Julian McMahon as he swept
into the room. He stopped and looked questioningly at the other
two men. "Am I interrupting anything?"



TWO

"How the hell did a nerd like you end up pissing off the mob?"
Cuba was still in a state of disbelief two days later. "Man, it
doesn't seem natural."

"I'll assume that's a rhetorical question." Michael sighed in
pleasure as he let the sea breeze dance on his skin. His
unbuttoned shirt billowed back like a black Batman cape, and his
supple, well-muscled body glowed a healthy tan in the sunlight.

Cuba saw the nearby passengers giving Michael dazed looks. He
couldn't blame them. Michael was a menace. He walked around,
seemingly oblivious to the danger he was posing with his beauty.
Hell, he felt like drooling himself. He shoved his itching fingers
into the waistband of his light blue swim trunks, not wanting to
do anything stupid like grabbing that man for a kiss.

He never dated or slept with any of his clients before. He never
intended to start now. Sex and emotions jeopardize a stint. It
made people careless.

Cuba crossed his arms and stood between Michael and the ogling
passengers. He knew he looked like a pathetic, overpossessive
boyfriend, but hell, he wasn't too concerned. He had a few
invitations too, albeit insulting ones. Most people here are White
folks who would love nothing better than to indulge in some Black
meat fantasy with him. No thanks, really. He gave that up after he
left his adolescence. Of course, he also knew that these people
were more of Michael's type - rich, pretty bastards. Cuba didn't
know why that irritated him especially.

"You actually killed the mob boss," Cuba murmured. "Amazing."

Michael placed his hands on Cuba's shoulders and turned the man to
face him face-to-face. Cuba looked at Michael's hands, pale
against his rich dark skin, and despite the warning in his mind
and the thundering in his chest, he stepped closer to Michael. And
damn Michael, he spread his legs so that Cuba could step between
them. Their cock bulges brushed at the tip, just that, but it was
enough to destroy all inhibitions in Cuba's mind. There was a
barrier of lycra, silk, and cotton between them, but both were
very aware of the throbbing of desire in their increasingly
tumescent cocks.

Michael's eyes shone with triumph as Cuba pressed home and the man
reached down to cup and knead Cuba's taut buttocks. "It's easy.
Negotiate at the hundredth floor, and then push the man out the
specially-weakened window pane. You see, I can take care of
myself, and I will take care of my people. I'm just doing this
bodyguard stunt to appease the shareholders." Michael shuddered as
Cuba rimmed his tongue along Michael's ear, and Michael pressed
his fingers into the cleft of the man's buttocks, earning a
shudder of pleasure from Cuba.

Cuba lifted one leg and pinned Michael against the railing. He
began making short, barely noticeable thrusts of his throbbing
cock bulge against Michael's even as he started talking sweet
nonsensical nothings. Michael murmured back equally nonsensical
nothings, both of them looking just like lovers talking and
admiring the view.

Michael gasped softly as he felt his balls starting to tighten in
imminent climax. Cuba's rhythm was insistent, and the man's cock
stretched against the fabric of his trunks so powerfully that
Michael could feel the shape of the man's thick cock rubbing
against him. It was as if Cuba was naked - a potent image that
drove him into tight convulsions as he ejaculated hard.

"You killed him. Man, that is fucking sexy. Marry me," Cuba said
harshly as he too felt the impending climax.

He groaned and arched his back slightly as his cock exploded. They
held each other, their eyes locked as they drowned in each other's
climax. Cuba couldn't resist: he licked the lower lip of
Michael's, letting the tip of his tongue follow the plump curve.
Michael's lips parted, and Cuba let his tongue slip inside.

It was potent pleasure, and Michael was an intoxicating
aphrodisiac. It was only when they needed air did they break off
the kiss.

"I'll be honest," Michael said, his voice rough from unquenched
desire. "I want you."

Cuba squealched ruthlessly his barbaric male triumph. "I don't get
involved with clients."

Michael looked mockingly down at Cuba's crotch. While Michael had
a large wet spot in his crotch, it was nothing compared to Cuba's
trunks, so wet that it outlined the full extent of Cuba's overly
well-endowed state. Unmistakable creamy streaks seeped out from
the brief trunks down Cuba's thighs.

"You'll control yourself," Cuba said weakly.

"Oh yes, we have to be professional about this."

Cuba growled and kissed Michael again. He was doomed, and they
both knew it.



THREE

They were not having sex. Cuba placed both his hands on the sink
and prayed for control. They would survive this, act like
professionals, and that was it. They would not fuck.

Seriously, he was determined not to.

Michael had an evil gleam in his eye as he lay on his bed. He was
wearing only a brief pair of boxer shorts, revealing his hairy
legs and a thin line of fur that ran along the bisection of his
corrugated stomach to disappear into the waistband of his shorts.

He spread his legs, that slut, and gestured at Cuba. "Come here."

Cuba pushed down at his cock threatening to burst out of his
briefs. "You're not making me do this."

"Come on, don't play hard to get. You've checked the guestlist,
made sure the windows and door are safe, what else do you want? I
can take care of myself. Come on, let's play."

"I will not be your holiday fling," Cuba growled.

"Fine. I'll just play with myself."

That got Cuba's attention. "You won't."

Michael started to reach into his shorts. That did it. Cuba
pounced on the man.

Michael pulled and struggled valiantly at the handcuffs. "Can I
persuade you to take advantage of me while I'm all trussed up?"

He was cuffed spreadeagled to the foot and end of the bed with
four handcuffs. Cuba straddled him and scowled even as he rubbed
his cock bulge absently. Michael licked his lips appreciatively.
"You look great in those briefs," he said as he arched his back,
letting his own erection graze the juncture of Cuba's legs. "Cuba,
please."

"Stop this, please," Cuba pleaded.

Michael stopped. "Cuba, it's okay."

"No, it's not."

"You're in the bodyguard business for too long. I can take care of
myself, how many times must I say that? See? I was born in a
circus. I am a trained escape artist, see?" To Cuba's amazement,
Michael easily slipped his hands out of the cuffs and then his
legs. "I am also good with the knife, and I know how to shoot."

Cuba sighed at the red bruises around Michael's hands. "I'm
sorry," he murmured as he stared at the red welts, and then he
kissed the bruise on one hand, and then the other.

"Bruises are part of the repertoire," Michael said gently. "See? I
twist my hand like this. When I was a hairy monkey kid, I had to
learn to get out of cages, locks, cuffs, ropes, anything."

"Wow. It must be fun."

"Not at all. I wanted to be normal, and all those people laughed
at me. I was a circus kid, what else could I do but to be a
freakshow? I showed them. I went to school where everybody thought
I was a freak, but I showed them. I'm rich now. They all want to
be my friends now. But that's the funny part. I'm still Michael
Weatherly, the monkey boy they called a freak."

"Just Michael Weatherly," Cuba echoed.

"Yeah, just me. I was a virgin until I made my first million
dollars. Then everyone started tripping over each other just to
sleep with me and win my favors. They call me pretty. Me, Monkey
Boy, pretty! They must think I'm a fool."

"Do you believe me when I say you're pretty?" Cuba asked quietly.

"I do." Michael shook his head slightly. "You're different. You
don't want to curry my favor, and you are honest with me. So yes,
I trust you when you say I am pretty to you. I know, you think I'm
a spoiled rich White kid, but I'm not, Cuba. I am a freak who has
learned the hard way how to survive."

"I'm sorry," Cuba said again.

"Don't be. Thanks for taking care of me, even if Julian and Jeremy
asked you to."

Cuba smiled at the man's words, and despite his best judgement,
took the man in his arms. Michael buried his face in Cuba's
muscular shoulders and inhaled deep. "Hold me tonight?" Michael
asked.

Cuba nodded.



Cuba touched Michael's beard, and marveled at how soft it felt
despite its prickly appearence.

"Don't get too attached. I always shave it off in the morning,"
Michael said, opening his eyes.

"But it'll grow back," Cuba told him.

"Yeah. I'm told I look better with stubble." Michael grinned. "I
guess you agree."

"Whoever those cheap sluts are, they are right. You look great
this way. And with those glasses too." Cuba's hand trembled as it
caressed Michael's jawline. "I can't resist, Michael."

"So don't."

Cuba didn't answer. He kissed Michael. Michael kissed him back,
and his hands, now familiar with every inch of Cuba's powerful
body, slipped down Cuba's briefs. Cuba nibbled on Michael's lower
lip, alternating with kissing the man, but he didn't fight
Michael.

Michael felt a surge of victory. Cuba wouldn't fight, couldn't
fight anymore. Michael pushed down Cuba's precum-stained briefs
and gasped as his hand found Cuba's massive erection. His fingers
could barely close around the thick flesh. His thumb rubbed the
length of Cuba's piss slit, spreading the large drops of oozing
pearly drops over the wide, engorged crown.

The burst of ecstasy took him by surprise as Cuba's cock crown
stretched and pushed into Michael's rear entrance. Michael felt
his flesh protest at the massive girth of Cuba's cock, but his
flesh also rejoiced at the invasion. Pleasure seized him, holding
him in thrall as he came in the hardest climax he could ever
remember, his own cock spurting hot semen onto his stomach. Cuba
only plunged deeper, taking Michael slowly inch by inch. There was
so much of him, Michael went wild with impatience at the complete
taking.

He cried out the other man's name as he arched his hips, needing
completion.

Cuba's answering groan reverberated across the cabin as his thick
pubic bush pressed against Michael's balls. Michael was trembling
from the unbelievable sensation of Cuba's entire length submerged
in his heated depths. Then Cuba lifted his body and supported his
weight on his arms, and his hips started making long, deep thrusts
of the fuck rhythm.

When Michael was close to coming, Cuba gritted his teeth and
changed to short, hard stabs of his cock, urging them both to lose
control and enjoy the pleasure. Michael screamed as he came, and
this caused Cuba to laugh weakly. The pleasure in Michael's eyes
compelled Cuba to drop his hard-held control. He spilled into
Michael in powerful, spurting waves, and groaned as Michael milked
him of every last drop.



FOUR

The poor room service boy fled without taking his tip. He probably
had no idea what to make of a man being fucked by a powerful Black
man against the wall. The boy shut the door just as those two
obviously were hitting the motherload. He had no idea that those
two hadn't left the room for two days now.

Cuba laughed as Michael sprayed whipped cream on his cum-slicked
cock and stuck strawberry pieces on the creamy mountain. His laugh
faded however when Michael started to feast, and Cuba's own cream
soon added to Michael's appetite.

When they were between heated couplings, they lay on the bed and
talked. Cuba teased Michael's insecurities and Michael mocked
Cuba's overprotective streak. They talked of their childhood, and
Cuba vowed to shoot all those bullies in Michael's past.

They had a great time. They coaxed pleasure from each other's
flesh, and when Cuba came, it felt as if he was pouring not just
his semen, but also his heart and soul into Michael. Michael
accepted them all.

They never said anything about that, however. Maybe they just
knew.



Cuba cursed when he opened the door five days later and found
Jeremy Northam standing outside. He lowered his gun and glared at
Jeremy.

Jeremy's smile turned into a grimace when he caught whiff of the
cabin. "Jesus, it smells like fuck in there. Don't you two need
fresh air?"

"What is it?" Michael asked, unheeding of his nudity as he came to
stand behind Cuba. "Someone I know in trouble?"

"No. Put something on, both of you, for crying out loud!" Jeremy
stepped back. "It's over. The men are all caught and Julian's
faxing the FBI even now. Michael, you will be called to testify,
but for now, it's over."

"Wait a minute. It's not over. He'll still need protection," Cuba
insisted.

"Protection? You're not even using any," Jeremy said back.

Cuba slammed the door in Jeremy's face.

"It's over," he told Michael. He felt... miserable, damn it, as if
his heart had just been ripped out of his chest. It hurt
unbelievably.

"I still need a bodyguard," Michael said simply. "I like the idea
of having one around me all the time rather appealing lately."

"I wanted to live a quiet life," Cuba mused. "But fuck that. You
want a bodyguard? You got me, Michael."

Michael grinned as he placed his palms over Cuba's nipples. "I
want you, more than anything else I've ever wanted."

"In the meantime, Cuba, Julian and I would like to discuss with
you about the possibilities of expanding into the bodyguard
business. We could use some help - and a new partner," came
Jeremy's muffled voice.

"Get the fuck away, Jeremy, and leave me and my man in peace,"
Cuba yelled back.

Michael laughed as Jeremy yelled an expletive. "I'm your man now?"

"Oh yes, my man, definitely." Cuba locked the door and lifted
Michael who clasped his legs around Cuba's waist. "You think you
can take this hung big brother, whiteboy?"

Michael gasped as Cuba started feeding his cock into Michael.
"I'll take everything you got." He held on for dear life as Cuba
fucked him right there, standing in the middle of the room. He
soon cried out his orgasm, and Cuba sealed their deal with heavy
blasts of his spunk.

"Deal," Michael gasped as Cuba slowly lowered him onto the floor.

"Deal," Cuba agreed.
