Friends and Family 7

Chapter 7

Tilden slipped out of bed, gently sliding out from under Luke’s legs and padded to the balcony. The sky was a pale gray with only the faintest hint of orange streaks on the eastern horizon as the sun rose. Below the lights in the courtyard shone on the pool, surrounded by palm trees and abandoned chaise lounges. Tilden leaned on the railing, watching the gray shadows of hotel staff stack fresh towels and drag nets across the pool, fishing for stray leaves. Luke and Mike enjoyed the pool. Yesterday they had alternated splashing in the water with lying sprawled across the pool furniture, enjoying the surprisingly warm December sun. It had been a good day. The television people had mostly left them alone. There had been the ever present camera people and strategically placed ice buckets full of beer and wine coolers, but no one tried to interview them or ask provocative questions. Both his boys had seemed content with kiddie beverages and even Mike had only flicked a teasing eyebrow at Tilden once before reaching for the orange soda. Mike had been calm. Tilden had been keeping him close, encouraging Mike to sit at his feet. 

Luke had adjusted to Mike’s new and strange behavior. Sweet Luke who shifted and molded to his partners’ desires. A young man who had always tried to please those who were supposed to care about him until in desperation after many repeated failures had developed a reputation as a bad actor. Tilden inwardly cringed at his initial reaction to Luke in his class, a spoiled, attention seeking boy. It was hard to imagine the same young man, who had been dismally failing in October, was now the shining star of the class and was on his way to a successful academic career. Tilden hadn’t thought Luke was shy, but now that he knew his precious partner was shy. He could be pushed into crazy behavior, following the herd or more precisely, following Mike. 

“Hey, can I come out?” a quiet voice asked from the doorway.

“Luka, I was just thinking of you.” Tilden smiled and opened his arms.

Luke leaned against Tilden, pressing his head to his top’s chest. “Good things, I hope?”

“Of course, druzhok.” Tilden, his back pressing against the balcony rail, carded his fingers through Luke’s hair. “My beautiful, Luka. He kissed down the side of his partner’s face. “Is everything all right? You’re up early?”

“I couldn’t sleep.” Luke looked up and studied Tilden’s face.

“Are you worried about today?” Tilden pushed the hair back off of Luke’s forehead. “Mike will be with you.”

“Yeah, that’s comforting.”

“Is there something I don’t know about between the two of you?” Tilden asked, cupping Luke’s chin in his hand so he couldn’t look away.

“No, nothing.”

“Why don’t I actually believe that?” Tilden stroked the side of Luke’s face with the back of his fingers. “My sweet boy. It’s OK to want something.”

“He needs you more than I do.”

“Luka, that’s not true.” Tilden bent down and kissed Luke’s neck, tickling him with his teeth and making him squirm. “His needs are just different than yours, different than mine. It’s OK to think all this kneeling at my feet is weird. I think it’s a little weird, but Mike seems to like it.” Tilden bit down where he’d kissed before, making Luke jerk. “And you like this, yes?”

“Oh, God. You know I do, but not outside. We could be seen.” Luke tried to pull away as Tilden reached under his boxers and cupped his butt.

“It’s early. We’re on the fifth floor. If you keep quiet, no one will know.” Tilden bit Luke’s ear; Luke gasped and moaned. “I thought I said to keep quiet.” Tilden flipped Luke, pushing him into the balcony railing and pressing their lips together into a kiss, stifling any further protest. He traced his hands down Luke’s chest, stroking through the thin t-shirt. “Quiet now, and I’ll give you a little more.”

With one hand on Luke’s belly, Tilden dropped to his knees  and slid Luke’s boxer’s down, capturing his already erect partner in his mouth. Oh, to be young again. It only took seconds before Luke stifled a cry and Tilden swallowed the surge that flowed into his mouth.

“Did you like that?” Tilden grinned up at his flushed partner.

“I can’t believe you just did that.”

“Milton’s always telling me I need to be more daring.”

“Outside, on a hotel balcony. Shit!”

“Don’t swear,” Tilden said automatically. “There wasn’t much danger. I knew you’d come fast with my skill and all. Let’s get inside.”

“What about you?”

“In the shower. I’ve had enough public sex.”

“You did it to me,” Luke spluttered, half laughing.

“I’m the top. It’s my prerogative.” Tilden kissed Luke hard and dragged him back through the balcony doors.

Tilden, wrapped in a towel, shook Mike’s shoulders. “Up. Shower. Dress.”

“So that’s the way it’s going to be today,” Mike muttered, his eyes still half closed with sleep. “One word sentences. Who appointed you world dictator?”

“You did, my boy.” Tilden unceremoniously hauled Mike from bed and peppered his backside with swats before pointing at the floor. “Kneel before I warm your fanny for the rest of the day.”

“Yes, sir.” Mike sank to his knees at his top’s feet.

“Good boy.” Tilden ran his fingers through Mike’s short hair. “Do you think you can follow my instructions now?”

“Yes.” Mike briefly glanced at Tilden before dropping his eyes back to the floor.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you. Shower. I’ll lay your clothes out.”

Mike made a face but didn’t say anything. He passed by Luke, who exited the bathroom, shaking water from his curls. Luke reached out and gently touched Mike’s shoulder. He must have heard the conversation earlier between Mike and Tilden.

Tilden waited until he heard the sound of the shower before wrapping his arms around Luke and drawing him into a strong hug. “My beautiful boy. Does it bother you, how I treat Mike?”

Luke bit his lower lip and nodded.

“It’s something he wants, druzhok. He needs tighter boundaries. I won’t do it with you unless you want me to.”

“No,” Luke said his eyes wide. “I don’t want to kneel.”

Tilden smiled. “I don’t want you to either. I’m not cut out for two kneeling boys.” Tilden nipped down the back of Luke’s neck, making his partner squirm. “You’re perfect the way you are. Go pick out something for Mike to wear.”

“Red or dark green?” Luke said, fingering two polo shirts. 

“I like him in dark green, but I think Mike likes red better.”

Luke left the dark green on the bed and put the red back in the drawer. 

“Are you mad at him?”

“No, I think he’ll remember you more today if he’s in green.

“Wise.” Tilden looped his arm around Luke’s neck and pulled him close for a kiss. “Are you worried about today?”

“Mike doesn’t like Paul or his partner.”

Tilden tried to keep his expression neutral. He didn’t much like Jack either. The top was all noise and bluster, and Paul ran roughshod over the other brats. He needed a steady top like Trent, not that ridiculous buffoon who thought loud was the equivalent of topping. “It’s a scavenger hunt. You and Mike can pair up and leave Paul and Colby together.”

“They fought when you were there, and you know what you’re doing.”

“It’s not your job to referee them. Go enjoy the theme parks. I understand that’s where the scavenger hunt is being held. Coasters don’t make you sick or anything, do they?”

“No.” Luke gave Tilden a weak smile. “I like coasters and I’ve heard there are some good ones here. But what about the scavenger hunt?”

“I could care less. We can come in last. Just go have fun. Fiona and company can find their own entertainment.”

“What if the top wants to win?”

“You mean Jack?”

Luke nodded.

“Are you worried about him?”

“I don’t like him.”

“I don’t much like him either, but I think he’s harmless enough. He might make a lot of noise, but I don’t think he’ll do anything—all flash and no substance.”

“What if he tries to...” Luke trailed off.

“Tries to top you, punish you? Is that what you’re worried about?”

Luke nodded again.

“Well, I doubt if you’ll give him any reason to punish you. Are you planning to have a major brat attack?” Tilden smiled, trying to make light of the situation. As long as Luke didn’t panic, there wouldn’t be any reason for him to get in trouble with a strange top, and surely this Jack guy had enough sense not to induce a state of panic. “All you need to do is follow the directions given by the show’s hosts. It shouldn’t be difficult.”

“What if there’s a problem? You topped the other guys when we were in Vermont.”

“I took Paul and Colby out for a chat when they tried to have a fistfight over pie crust. It was hardly different than I would have handled a recalcitrant student.” That wasn’t one hundred percent the truth. He wouldn’t put a student in the corner. He’d used the threat of his power as a top to coerce those boys, something he’d never try with a student. “I know you have the good sense not to start a fistfight. You’re a good boy.” Tilden hesitated before the boy slipped out of his mouth. Milton called Luke boy but then Milton called practically everyone under forty a boy. Mike liked to be called boy; it was part of his strange submissive persona which had just crawled out from the dark cave where it had lain hidden. Tilden knew Luke liked the schoolboy Russian phrases, and Luke hadn’t flinch at the endearment. He’d actually smiled, but somehow for Luke it seemed more appropriate when they were playing like this morning on the patio and not for serious conversations. Tilden kissed Luke’s forehead. “Are you sure you want to do this? I can tell Fiona you’re feeling sick this morning.”

“That’s a lie,” Luke said, looking up at his top.

“In the broadest sense.” Tilden smiled. “But stress can make you sick, and I think idiot television personnel may be exempt from my no lying rule.”

“No, I’m OK.” Luke flashed Tilden a timid smile. “I shouldn’t be such a wimp.”

“You’re not a wimp. You’re a successful  and loved partner in a threesome. That takes courage.”

Luke flushed and bit his lip.

“I mean it, and you have my permission to tell Jack where to go if he bothers you.”

“What about Mike?”

“He’ll handle Jack with or without my permission. He took on Gordon. It’ll take a lot more than Jack to intimidate him.”

Luke smiled. “I bet Gordon would read Jack the riot act.”

“He’d probably throw Jack over his knee and tattoo the riot act on his backside. He doesn’t tolerate incompetent tops.”

Luke laughed, his blue eyes finally lost the haunted look that had dogged the whole conversation. “I’ll threaten him with a private tutoring session with Gordon if he steps out of line.”

“I don’t think he’d have the guts to attend, but you’re right, it is a pretty image. Vsyo khorosho?”

“Khorosho.”

“Maladets.” Tilden ruffled Luke’s still wet curls and squeezed his shoulder.

Mike, still dripping water, came back into the bedroom and headed towards the chest of drawers.

“Your clothes are on the bed,” Tilden said quietly.

“I don’t want to wear green.”

“I want you to, and whose choice is it?” Tilden raised an eyebrow expectantly. 

Mike stared at Tilden, his dark eyes smoldering, but he shrugged and acquiesced, pulling the shirt viciously over his still damp torso. “Are you happy now?”

“No, I’m not. Luka, why don’t you go on downstairs to breakfast. We’ll be there in a few minutes. Druzhok,” Tilden said, making his expression as soft as he could, “I’m not going to kill him. This arrangement was Mike’s choice. Go on now.” 

Luke headed toward the door with a pleading look at both Tilden and Mike.

Tilden smiled at Luke before turning back towards his other partner. Mike was now dressed, but looking no more cheerful. Tilden sat down on the edge of the bed and patted the coverlet. “Come here, Misha.”

“What have I done?”

“I think you can answer that,”

“I’m showered, and I’m dressed.”

“In the most belligerent way possible. Come here.”

Mike moved to stand in front of Tilden, still not taking the offered seat on the bed. 

Tilden grabbed Mike’s wrist and pulled him between his knees. “You asked me to take more control. Do you still want that?”

“Yes,” Mike muttered.

“Then your going to accept it cheerfully and willingly. Down you go.” Tilden placed his hand on Mike’s back and pressed his chest over Tilden’s thigh. He didn’t push hard enough to force Mike into position, but it was more than a gentle request. Tilden didn’t bother to pull down Mike’s shorts. This was supposed to be a quick reminder, not a full blown spanking. He landed a rapid flurry of spanks before drawing Mike back up into a quick hug. “You’re mine. Do you think you can remember that today?”

“Yes, sir, but I don’t like green.”

“Every time you look at that hated green shirt I want you to remember that you’re mine and I’m the one who wanted you to wear green.”

“Devious.”

“Of course. Can you behave yourself today for me and more importantly for Luke?”

“I’ll try. Is Luke having a hard time? He always seems so perfect.”

Tilden fingered Mike’s short hair, trying to explain Luke’s feelings without pressuring Mike. “I think he’s afraid I’m going to morph into some kind of insane master and come at him with a leash and collar.”

Mike hesitated. “I wanted the tighter rules. Can’t he understand that I’m not in trouble?”

“He will, but you need to give him time. Threesomes are tough. We all have to adjust to each other. Please, I need your help. If you must do something outrageous today, can you keep it only mildly outrageous?”

Mike laughed. “I think I can handle that. Do I have your permission for mildly outrageous?”

“Yes, brat, but don’t push it.” Tilden pushed Mike off his lap and kissed him lightly on the lips. “Breakfast, boy.”

Luke had sat at the same table as Brad and Cotton and was already drinking orange juice and munching toast snagged from Cotton’s plate. “May we join you?” Tilden asked with mock formality.

“Of course.” Brad smiled and scooted his chair over to give Tilden more room. “It’s nice to see a friendly, sensible face.”

“I’m a Green Mountain Boy and a Russian teacher, so the sensible part might not be right,” Tilden teased.

“I think you were coerced into it. Both Gordon and Landon called me at my office. They do not take no for an answer. I finally told my receptionist to tell them I was in surgery if they called again. Gordon now must think I do surgery twenty-four hours a day.”

“I’d be careful about lying to him. He has a discipline fetish with young tops,” Tilden warned but kept his voice light.

“He’d spank Brad?” Cotton asked with way too much delight in his voice. 

“He caned Tilden,” Mike blurted out.

“Misha.” Tilden scolded. That was an experience he didn’t want to share with Cotton or Brad. Cotton was a chatterbox, and Brad would be horrified.

A waitress appeared at the table and started pouring coffee, which saved Tilden from needing to further elaborate. “What can I get you, honey? she asked Mike.

“He’ll have the scrambled eggs with bacon, whole wheat toast, and home fries. Orange juice to drink.” Tilden said before Mike could answer. “And I’ll have the same, but I prefer sausage.”

Mike shot Tilden an angry glare but waited for the waitress to leave before protesting. “I’m not six. I can order my own breakfast.”

“Do you want to discuss this here?” Tilden asked, keeping his voice neutral but raking his eyes over Mike. “We can go back upstairs, and I can remind you who you belong to.”

Cotton let out a long, low whistle. “Jeez, I didn’t know you were into this submissive shit. Wow! Do you make him kneel?”

“Cotton,” Brad warned, “I think it’s private.”

Mike grinned, embarrassed, and muttered, “I’m yours.”

Somehow they managed to get through breakfast without further incident. Mike ate his food without question; Tilden had chosen something he knew his wild-eyed brat liked. Mike had ordered it himself the last two days. The boys talked about the planned activities for the day, even Luke chimed in about a roller coaster at one of the parks that he wanted to ride. The scavenger hunt was being held through a series of amusement parks. Each team was to take pictures of the famous sites to meet the criteria. Tilden wasn’t a big theme park aficionado, but even he’d recognized the clues for the fairy tale village and the newest and meanest coaster in the state, at least according to the incessant ads on television.

Fiona was standing in the front, banging on a glass with a spoon. Few seemed to be noticing her from the unchanging level of chatter around them. Someone stepped forward, a small camera palmed in his large hand, and whistled sharply, silencing the room. “Thank you. I’ll turn this over to the ever lovely Fiona.”

Tilden heard several catcalls and whistles. Fiona’s fine personality must have been on display with the other couples and not unleashed only on their poor threesome. “I think this is my signal to leave. Have fun, Luka, and behave, Misha.”

“You tell Luke to have fun, and I get told to behave. That’s not fair. What happened to equality?”

“I think it’s very fair,” Tilden said with mock grimness, repressing the smile that was trying to cross his lips. Mike’s eyes were bright, and his expression was a cross between a pout—an expression he could never pull off with any form of sincerity; it just wasn’t in his nature—and a little boy grin. “I’ve lived with you two long enough to know where the trouble comes from. Be good.”

Tilden stretched out on the bed, trying to relax with his book. This was the third time he’d read the same page. It wasn’t riveting anyway. He could review the proofs of the new Russian textbook, but after all he was on vacation. There was the pool, but without his boys, where was the fun? He didn’t feel like fending off curious hotel guests.

Tilden rolled over and picked up his phone. It was only a second before he heard Milton’s familiar voice on the other end of the line.

“You doing OK?”

“Why?”

“It’s only nine thirty, and you’re calling me. Where are your boys? Shouldn’t you be at the beach or the pool?”

“They’re off to the theme parks.”

“Without you?”

Tilden could hear the surprise and masked concern in Milton’s voice. “It’s one of the damn challenges the freaks at the television network dreamed up.” Tilden took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair, making it stand up on end. “I’m sure you’re going to tell me I’m overreacting, but I don’t have a good read on Mike right now. And you know Luke; he’ll let himself get pushed into just about anything.”

“How did you handle Mike this morning?”

Tilden could imagine Milton, his hip propped against his desk, the long patient look on his face that he wore when explaining a difficult concept to a confused student. “I chose his clothes and his breakfast, and spanked him lightly.”

“That sounds about right. Was he acting up?”

“No, just pushing around the edges and being Mike.”

“What about Luke?”

“Sweet, gentle Luke. We had a bit of fun on the balcony this morning.”

“What did you do?”

“Um.” Tilden could feel his face turning bright red. “We had a little fun on the balcony.”

“I’m not going to ask further,” Milton said, clearing his throat. “I don’t want to know,” he snorted. “I let you out of my sight for five minutes, and you behave like a maniac. What am I going to do with you?”

“Nothing, I hope,” Tilden said, slightly worried. He thought Milton was teasing, but his friend did have a highly developed sense of propriety. He was sure Milton didn’t approve of public blow jobs, but again it had hardly been public, only slightly naughty.

“Can you try to behave? I have enough ordeals here without adding you to my list.”

“Is everything all right?” Tilden asked, sobering quickly. “I though Mary arrived safely at your grandfather’s?”

“She did, and they seem quite taken with her. She’s a nice girl. How she got mixed up with Blade I’ll never know. He’s a certifiable maniac. Sheldon’s suggesting I should top Blade. I just don’t know. It doesn’t feel right.”

Tilden hesitated. He wished he could see Milton’s face. He was usually so self-assured, so resilient, but he sounded almost defeated, and Sheldon’s suggestions, Tilden was sure, were more than polite requests. “Is Blade a brat?”

“He’s bratting, but it might be only a temporary state. There has been a lot of upheaval. Sheldon’s convinced he’s a submissive, but he’s thinking with his heart, not his head.”

“And you’ve explained this to them?”

“To Sheldon. I haven’t broached the topic with Blade.”

Tilden sat up and swung his legs down, rubbing his thigh with his palm. “Don’t you think you should talk to Blade? He’s the one who would be the most affected.”

“I can’t go there. He looks like Sheldon. That same red hair and green eyes. I don’t trust myself.”

“You’re attracted to him?”

“I could be.”

“Are you afraid to top him because you might be attracted to him, or you won’t top him because you are attracted to him? There’s a substantial difference.”

There was a pause, and for a moment Tilden thought they’d been disconnected before Milton spoke. “I don’t know.” He sounded tired, almost shattered. For a second, Tilden could see how Milton had been Gordon’s boy. There was a raw need in the tone before Milton briskly continued. “I’ll figure it out. I’ve always managed to pull a rabbit out of my hat before, and I haven’t heard about a rabbit population collapse.” Milton laughed, but it sounded forced.

“Have you talked to Gordon or your grandfather?”

“I thought you didn’t like Gordon.”

“You trust him. That’s what’s important, and don’t change the subject.”

“When did you become the tough guy top?” The laugh was genuine this time. “You caught my attempt to divert. Grandfather assumes I’m topping him, and I haven’t exactly talked to Gordon. I already know his answer. ‘Stop being a bloody fool, and dominate the poor boy.’”

“I think you already have your answer unless you’re comfortable finding a top to sponsor him.”

“I think Blade would accept it from me. I don’t think a stranger would work. I thought about Josh because Blade seemed to hit it off with Steve, but I hate to saddle him with two unattached submissives. The only other possibility is Trent. Trent’s a good top, but he’s quiet, and Blade’s going to fight. He stuck it out with Mace, but Mace is his partner. Trent could remember times when they weren’t locked in battle; he won’t have those memories with Blade.”

You’ve made your decision. I can hear it in your voice, and I know you can trust yourself with Blade. I would never question your integrity.”

“Thanks, I guess. Are you going to be OK with a whirlwind eighteen-year-old living here?”

“Oh, no you don’t.” Tilden laughed. “You don’t get to put the blame for your reluctance on my shoulders.” Tilden sobered. “Both you and Sheldon made room in your heart when I showed up with not one but two permanent partners who create disruption at every turn. A temporary housemate will not be a problem.” Tilden heard the soft sigh.  “Yes, that’s right my friend. I think you’re out of excuses.”

“Give me time to get used to the idea. Trying to get him back on track in college will probably get me there anyway.” Milton made a noise that could have been a feeble laugh or a groan. “He did nothing all semester, but at least so far he’s been good about doing the work. Of course it’s been only a few days, and I don’t know what Sheldon’s told him. Blade’s been tiptoeing around me since he arrived.”

“Is he studying now?”

“Trying. He doesn’t know how. He stares at his books with a blank look, flips through them and becomes engrossed in a section he doesn’t need to read, or plays endless games of tic-tac-toe against himself.”

“Sounds like most freshmen, but they don’t have to do an entire semester in three weeks.”

“He’s trying. I actually promised him that he could go to the movies with Sheldon if he finished his work today, so I probably should check on him.”

“Is it a good idea for him to be alone with Sheldon?” Tilden had seen Sheldon pull some outrageous stunts when he wanted something, and Sheldon wasn’t above forcing Milton’s hand, consequences be damned. 

“I’ve talked with Sheldon. He understands, and you’re getting paranoid. It’s the movies in town.”

Tilden laughed. “I guess I’ve become a genuine top, paranoia at every turn.”

“No, just caution. We’ve all seen Sheldon be outrageous when he wants something, but he doesn’t outright lie to either me or Josh.”

“Joshua?”

“Steve’s going with them to the movies.”

Tilden swallowed hard, but didn’t say anything. If Sheldon pulled a Sheldon and got Steve in trouble, Luke and Mike would be in the firing line. This was Milton’s partner; he knew him, understood him.

“He won’t,” Milton said softly. “Sheldon understands the pledge.”

“I know. I’m just being paranoid.” Tilden kept his voice light, but his throat was dry, and he could swear that he felt this morning’s breakfast turn over in his stomach. He was paranoid. Sheldon was a colossal brat, but he understood the rules, understood the difference between dipping his toe over the edge and a full plunge into the deep end.

“It’s having your boys gone for the day. It brings out the protective instincts. I know it always does in me. I have to fight the urge to chain Sheldon permanently to my wrist. It will be fine. Go enjoy the weather. You’ve been lucky with the warmth and sunshine.”

The abrupt change of subject signaled that the conversation was at an end. They chatted several more minutes about nothing in particular before Milton made his excuses and the phone call ended. Tilden picked up his book and changed into his swim trunks. He grabbed his cell as he walked out the door, his fingers brushing over the keys that would dial Milton’s grandfather. No, Tilden thought resolutely. Milton’s done this for a long time. He doesn’t need me second guessing his decisions. Tilden tossed the phone into his beach bag along with the extra towel, sunblock and the Russian science fiction short stories for which he was creating vocabulary lists for his students. They’d been begging to read something besides the classics, and with Milton not here to insist he vacation, he might as well work on it.

The hotel pool meandered around the building in an attempt to look like a giant concrete lagoon. Several families with children lounged at the tables nestled between palm trees and brilliantly flowering shrubs. A few young woman were stretched out on the chaise lounges, baking their skin a golden brown. Tilden spotted two tops from the show already clustered around the bar, drinking something with pink flamingo stir sticks and purple umbrellas. Tilden intentionally headed to the far side, away from any contestants and chose a quiet chaise in the muted sun under a palm tree. A mother with two children gave him a stunning smile and more than a passing glance as he sat down. A towheaded boy, who looked about nine, and a girl, maybe a year or two younger, were squirming as the mother applied sunblock.

Tilden stripped off his T-shirt and stretched out with his book and notepad, rapidly making notes as he became lost in the story of the brain transplant between man and elephant. He’d read the story several times before, but the absurdity of an elephant doing higher mathematics always made him smile. He hadn’t realized several hours had passed until he noticed the sun directly overhead as he squinted at the pages. He stretched.  A quick dip and then he’d find some lunch. Several gold jacketed waiters were circling around, their trays laden with hamburgers and fries. The family next to him had settled in to a meal; the young boy tucked into a giant hamburger, ketchup squirting all over his face.

“That looks good,” Tilden said with a smile.

“I think he wears more food than he eats,” the mother said, her smile tired. “What language were you reading? I couldn’t even make out the title.”

“Russian. I teach it.”

“I can’t imagine reading a different alphabet. It must be hard.”

Tilden shrugged and smiled. Did everybody think the different alphabet made Russian extra difficult? How often had he heard that on an airplane or a train. The alphabet was the easy part, but of course this young woman probably didn’t want a lecture on linguistic trees, and Russian’s relatively lack of difficulty because it was in the Indo-European family versus other languages. “You get used to it.” Tilden gave her a polite smile.

“I think it’s neat, like a secret code,” the boy babbled around his hamburger. “You could be a spy or something.”

“Timmy,” the woman said exasperated. “Last year it was dinosaurs; this year it’s ciphers. I go to the library, and he wants books on breaking the enigma machine or the Navajo code talkers. His teacher returns his homework because he writes it in code.”

Tilden smiled again, his face feeling stiff. This mother was chatting away to a perfect stranger about her son. At least he didn’t seem bothered. The boy popped a fry in his mouth, another glob of ketchup dropped on the collection on his chin.

“What’s that letter that looks like a backwards r? I saw it on your book cover.” Timmy asked, still munching on his hamburger.

“It’s a ya.”

“It looks neat.”

“It is neat.”

“Finish your lunch, Timmy. I’m sure this nice man doesn’t want to discuss the Russian alphabet. He’s on vacation.” She rolled her eyes at Tilden and made an effort to look coquettish. 

“It’s quite all right.” Tilden glanced down at his hands. Their obvious bareness was making this woman think he was available. He hadn’t thought about rings, but an overt sign of his status might prevent these awkward conversations. “I like Russian. I’d be happy to teach your son the alphabet if he’d like. It probably help with making secret codes.”

“Can he, Mom?”

She looked uncertainly at Tilden, her expression a mixture of a possible interest in him and a hint of exhaustion with her son.

“It would be a shame to discourage learning. I’m happy to show him. Just let me take a quick dip.” Tilden waited for the woman to nod before jogging off.

The water was warm. Tilden let the artificial waves wash over his chest, watching the seagulls squabble over the leftovers of someone’s lunch. Lazily he swam to the edge, pulled himself up, and toweled off, swiping his bangs out his eyes with his hand.

Timmy was still sitting at the table, his partially eaten lunch in front of him. He looked over at Tilden, almost shy or pleading as if he’d thought he’d be forgotten.

I’ll be right there, kiddo. Let me grab a pencil and a notebook.

“You don’t have to do this. My mom says I shouldn’t bug people.”

Yeah, because she’d rather bug them, Tilden thought uncharitably. “It’s OK. I like to do this.” Tilden flipped open the notebook and started printing large sheet sized letters. “We’ll start with the fun ones. The letters that are different than English”

They were about halfway through the alphabet and drinking their second strawberry milkshake when Tilden saw a uniformed hotel staff member hurry toward their table. Her name tag identified her as Gloria. “Mr Blake, I need you to come with me.”

“Is everything all right?” Tilden said, quickly standing up. 

“The television people are looking for you.”

Tilden realized he’d left his phone on vibrate in his bag. He pulled it out, noticing three messages in the last half hour all from numbers he didn’t recognize. “Are Mike and Luke OK?” Tilden took a quick breath, trying to clear the sudden tightness in his chest.

“I don’t know, sir. We were just told to find you.”

Tilden scanned the pool area, not seeing Timmy’s mother. “Do you know where your mom is?”

Timmy shook his head. “She might have gone back to the room.”

Tilden swore softly to himself. He wasn’t leaving a nine year old boy to fend for himself. “What’s your room number?”

“Seven twenty-seven.”

“I’ll ring it,” Gloria said and headed for a house phone. She returned a second later, shaking her head. “Do you know you mom’s cell phone number, honey?” she asked in silly-sweet tone that some adults use with children.

He looked at Tilden, his eyes starting to fill with tears as he shook his head. Tilden reached over and took the boy’s hand. “Why don’t you have someone check the restroom and the snack bar. I’ll stay with Tim until you find his mom.” Tilden pushed the scattered hair off the boy’s forehead in an unconscious reassuring gesture. “Tell the TV people that I’m here by the pool.”

Gloria nodded, unhappy but without any other options. Tilden heard her muttered something into the radio and stalk off toward the bar and restrooms. Timmy pushed closer to Tilden; he was now frightened, and tears started rolling down his cheeks.

“It’s going to be fine. I’m sure your Mom is just in the bathroom. She knew I was with you.”

“I got lost in the mall last Christmas,” Timmy said between gulps of choked back sobs.

“Hey, hey, you didn’t wander off; it’s not your fault.” Tilden ran his hand up and down the boy’s back. “You’re not in any trouble. I’ll keep your safe.” Tilden pushed back his chair and drew the small boy into his lap. “It’s all right to be scared.”

Gloria came back moments later, Timmy’s mother in tow. Tilden gave the boy a gentle push toward his mom, who opened her arms, but her expression was more irritated than welcoming. “Come, Timmy. This nice man seems to be taken. What a pity.”

Tilden didn’t have a chance to ponder her remarks as a harried young woman appeared at his elbow, slightly out of breath, her network ID swinging on a lanyard around her neck. “Professor Blake, please I need you to come with me. There’s a car waiting for you out front.”

“Are Mike and Luke OK?”

“I was told to collect you and bring you to Sea Park,” the woman said, stepping back at Tilden’s sharp tone. “There was no mention that your partners were hurt, but that is all I know. If you come with me I’ll have you taken there immediately.”

The ride to the theme park was a blur. Tilden sat in the back, images of bodies falling from roller coasters flashing across his brain. The driver showed something at the main gate, and they were directed to a small, secure lot well away from the tourist parking. Two park security guards and a uniformed Orlando police officer met the car.

Tilden burst out of the backseat nearly before the vehicle came to a stop. “Where are they? Are they all right?”

“Calm down, sir,” the police officer said. “Your partners are unhurt. They were involved in a minor altercation with park authorities and another guest.”

They’d brought a golf cart. Tilden would rather have walked, a chance to calm his beating heart. They were involved in some kind of fight. No one seemed inclined to tell him any more at the moment. Tilden watched the scenery zip by, rows of metal and cinder block storage buildings. They stopped in front of one painted in incongruous pink with a blue roof. No sign in front identified its purpose. The officer stepped closer to Tilden, not touching him but within rapid grabbing range.

Inside several more park security officers along with television personnel were milling about. A man in plain clothes with an identification badge moved toward Tilden, obviously a manager or a captain of the guard or whatever they called it, but Tilden ignored him and moved rapidly toward his partners. Luke was hunched in his seat, one knee drawn to his chest, his face scrunched up, trying to stop the tears. Mike sat on the hard wooden bench, his hands cuffed behind him and his face a mask of unsuppressed anger. Tilden slipped between them, wrapping an arm around each partner. Luke lost his fight against the tears and sobbed against Tilden’s chest. Tilden, not caring who might see, bent over and kissed Luke’s hair, whispering quietly in Russian in his ear until he felt his partner relax against his chest.

Mike sat rigid on his other side, anger rolling off of him in waves. “Can we get him uncuffed?” Tilden asked in his most reasonable tone.

“He resisted arrest,” the officer said, not moving from where he was leaning against the wall, his arms folded.

“Is he being charged?”

“Not at the moment.”

“Can you uncuff him, please.”

“If he behaves belligerently, he will be charged,” the officer said, still not moving from the wall.

“Mike,” Tilden said in the sternest voice he could muster, “look at me.” Tilden waited until Mike’s eyes were focused on his top’s face. “Can I have your word that you will be a perfect gentleman?”

“Yes, sir.” The tone was soft and sincere.

The police officer moved forward and unlocked the cuffs, his eyes on Tilden silently signaling that he expected Tilden to control his partner. Mike rubbed his wrists but remained silent even as Tilden raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

“What happened?” Tilden kept his voice soft. He didn’t want to frighten either of his partners, but he couldn’t imagine a good reason for Luke and Mike to be in a fistfight.

Fiona, who’d been quiet until this point, uncrossed her arms and gave Tilden a pointed glare. “Your brat, who may I mention you brought on this show without the proper vetting procedure, hauled off and pummeled Jack. Your psychotic brat then attacked the camera man who tried to break them up. We were fortunate that no one was hurt. It’s a public relations disaster.”

“Mr. Stoller has been banned from Asbury theme park properties for the remainder of the  year,” the manager looking type broke in.

“What happened?” Tilden asked, hardly hearing the continued huffing of the TV and security people.

“Jack started it,” Mike said, his tone defiant even as he leaned into Tilden’s touch.

“I don’t doubt it, but it still doesn’t tell me what happened.”

The words were almost too soft for Tilden to hear. “He slapped me,” Luke murmured into Tilden’s shirt.

“What?” Tilden nearly shouted, feeling the blood rush to head. With an effort, he continued in a calmer voice, “Jack tried to discipline you?”

“He slapped Luke across the face,” Mike spat.

“Why?” Tilden asked, struggling hard with his own composure. It was fortunate that Jack was nowhere in sight, or Tilden might have put his fist through the man’s face himself.

“I was drawing in the shade instead of working on the scavenger hunt. It was hot,” Luke said in a small voice.

“You did nothing wrong,” Tilden said, pulling his partner closer and trying to block the anger from his voice. “It was hot today. Sitting in the shade was the right thing to do. Jack was wrong; he had no right to touch you.”

“Don’t you get all righteous on me,” Fiona protested. “I know you hit your partners.”

“I do not hit my partners,” Tilden said, enunciating each word carefully. “We have a mutually agreed upon relationship where I use corporal punishment in a prescribed and agreed upon manner. What Jack did was assault, plain and simple.”

“Bullshit!” Fiona exploded. “You’re just defending your precious boys.”

“Enough. I told you and other USBC personnel that I was apprehensive about allowing my partners to participate in this exercise, which was obviously merely a setup to create turmoil. We’re done with this program.” Tilden turned back toward the police officer. “I understand we are free to go.”

“Yes, I have no reason to hold you in an official capacity.”

“Thank you. I believe I saw a cab queue at the front of the park. We will return to the hotel, gather our things, and check out. I would be grateful if you would cease contacting us by telephone and email.”

Fiona stood, mouth agape, struggling for words. “You signed a contract. You can’t just vanish. The network has spent a fortune on you.”

“I’m sure they have more than recouped their money. I was grossly irresponsible allowing my partners to be placed in harm’s way. I will not allow it to continue.”

“You will be sued for breach of contract.”

Tilden knew this wasn’t an idle threat. Sheldon with great relish had recounted several gruesome stories about the television network’s legal prowess. “I’ll await a call from your lawyers,” Tilden said with a calmness he didn’t feel. Tilden stood, pulled his two young partners to their feet, and headed for the door before anyone could stop them.

The sun radiated off the kilometers of blacktop and scrubby grass shoulders as they walked toward the front entrance of park. Luke leaned against Tilden, sniffling occasionally, but Mike had jerked away as soon as they exited the building, his shoulders rigid as he force marched down the road.

“Misha, I’m not going to eat you alive. I understand why you did it, and I would have been tempted myself. I don’t know if I would have been content to give the guy only a bloody nose.” Tilden smiled, even though Mike still had his back toward him. “Nothing is ever the end of the world, and this may be a blessing in disguise.”

“I fucked up as usual. Why don’t you just say it? I crashed you and Luke’s happy party. Everywhere I turn I create a new crisis. Luke walks around me like I’m made of glass, and I backed you into a fucking corner.”

“Stop, boy.” Tilden said, sharpening his voice. “Turn around and look at me.”

“No.” Mike jammed his hands in his shorts pockets and kept marching. 

Tilden tried to keep the sigh to himself as he felt Luke tense beside him. “Mike’s having a little tantrum,” Tilden whispered conspiratorially, “but we’ll get it straightened out.” He kissed Luke’s head, unwound his arm from his young partner’s shoulders and lengthened his stride to catch Mike. “Do you walk away from me, young man?”

Mike continued to walk, his head down, his stride not breaking.

Tilden reached out and grabbed his partner’s shoulder and spun him around. “I was talking to you, and I don’t want to talk to your back.”

“Fuck off!”

Still holding his partner’s shoulders, Tilden spun him around again and landed a half dozen hard swats on the seat of Mike’s shorts. “I’d rather not take you over my knee in the backlot of a theme park, but if you insist, I will. It’s your choice.” Tilden stared at Mike and was relieved when he saw Mike’s eyes drop to the ground. “I didn’t hear you, boy,” Tilden barked when there was still no reply.

“I don’t want to be spanked. I’ll behave.”

Tilden kissed Mike’s forehead firmly and with a good deal of possessiveness. “You’re mine. You’re both mine,” Tilden said, raising his gaze to encompass Luke, who had stopped a discreet distance from the verbal fireworks. “A little fistfight is not going to chase me away. We will be discussing this later when we’re not standing in the blazing sun melting into the asphalt. I’m not happy you resorted to physical violence, but I understand, and it’s not the end of the world. I will spank you for it,” Tilden continued, now speaking directly to Mike, “but I think we’d all appreciate it if I didn’t have to do it in the middle of an asphalt desert.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir,” Mike murmured, his eyes firmly fixed to the road.

“I know, and we’ll fix it. Someday I will teach you to think before you fly off the handle, but we have time.” Tilden hugged Mike and signaled for Luke to move closer so he could drape an arm over his quieter partner’s shoulders. “Home, James,” Tilden said with a smile.

They scuffed along the road, the screams of roller coaster riders echoing in the distance. “Were you serious about leaving the show?” Luke questioned, his voice soft.

“Absolutely. It’s my job to keep you safe, and I failed miserably. I will not put you in that situation again. Did Jack hurt you?”

“No.” Luke wiped his eyes. “I didn’t mean to do anything wrong.”

“You didn’t. The man’s a psycho,” Mike snarled.

“While I agree with Mike, I think I might phrase it a little more tactfully,” Tilden said. “Let’s hold this discussion until we’re somewhere more private. An amusement park hardly seems the place.”

After a walk that rivaled the great treks along the ancient silk roads, Tilden finally found a cab, and they wound their way through the endless traffic past miles of chain stores and fast food outlets back to the motel. To Tilden’s surprise, no one tried to stop them in the lobby; he hustled both his boys up to the room and alternated between cajoling and bullying them into packing while Tilden, with a handful of brochures, located a hotel with a vacancy and scrounged up a rental car. With a quick glance around the room for elusive missing socks, Tilden tossed the key on the bed and shut the door for a final time before ushering his boys down the back steps and across the parking lot to the neighboring hotel, where he rented the car.

Luke and Mike were unnaturally silent at they tossed the luggage in the trunk and both piled into the back seat. “Do I have the plague or something?” Tilden joked as he started the car and followed the signs to the Florida Turnpike. 

In reality, Tilden knew both boys were upset and wanted to find comfort in each other. While the television show had been at best a distraction and at worst a source of mind numbing stupidity and potential embarrassment, it had also been a constant anchor in their lives—a reason for the three of them to be together. In a few harsh words, Tilden had smashed a wrecking ball through their lives. Tilden had hated the show, probably far more than either of his partners. He was old enough that he preferred not to display his private life for every would be voyeur in the nation. Luke and Mike had grown up in the world of social media, and except for question about corporal punishment, they hardly flinched. 

The show had given them a ready access to other inexperienced brats for quick comparison. They lived with two brats, but it was hardly the same. Mace was placid and kept any brat like or submissive behavior well hidden, and Sheldon, was, well Sheldon. Everyone expected outrageous behavior from Sheldon, but deep down he understood and respected the rules. For Luke and Mike, both Mace and Sheldon could be intimidating. Tilden suspected both appeared overwhelmingly older and also in some nebulous zone between a top and a brat. It wouldn’t be easy for Mike and Luke to confide in them. There wasn’t the easy camaraderie that Tilden had seen with Cotton; the three boys sprawled around the pool, splashing, drinking soda, and chatting for hours. Steve was close to their age, but he didn’t have a partner, and he was trapped inside of Joshua’s ring of intimidation. Steve seemed to genuinely like Josh, but Tilden understood his partners’ hesitancy to get too close. Joshua was very kind and generous, but with that kindness there was a price, a forest of expectations. Milton’s help came with the same stipulations, but Tilden knew how to tread cautiously through the thicket, and Sheldon could occasionally blow the paths wide open. Luke and Mike were still finding their way around Milton. Mike cautiously pushed the edges around Milton, asking for a degree of control that Tilden was only beginning to understand. Luke, on the other hand, was sticking to his invisible act, even though Milton harassed and cajoled Luke toward a zone of greater intimacy. Not in the sexual sense—Milton would never cross that line with Tilden’s partners—but in the idea of family. Tilden had seen Milton in quiet moments nearly bully Luke onto his lap and whisper into his ear. It always seemed to work because Luke would relax against him before finding Tilden and spill some worry that Tilden hadn’t spotted.

Tilden glanced in the rearview mirror. Both his boys were quiet, but unsettled. Luke had leaned against Mike’s shoulder, and Mike had put his arm around Luke. Tilden wished for Milton’s steady presence. With Milton driving, Tilden would have been between the two of them, reassuring Luke and chastising Mike for resorting to blows. He also wouldn’t have lost his temper with the television people, leaving them wide open for potential lawsuits or worse, having to return to the show. Mike was certainly worldly enough to recognize the potential difficulties, and Luke wasn’t as innocent as he seemed. His father was a successful businessman, and Luke without a doubt understood the power of money and influence, both the monopoly of the television network.

Tilden watched the road signs flash by. They’d left the clogged traffic of Orlando and almost immediately entered rural Florida. Small orange groves and ragged mini farms, whose main source of income appeared to be the giant billboards advertising surf shops and souvenir stands, lined the road. He had to concentrate on his driving on the unfamiliar roads with questionable directions. He’d found lodging at a hotel described as overflowing with the charms of old Florida. That probably meant termites, fire ants, and palmetto bugs, but it was peak season, and Tilden was glad to find any hotel. The person answering the phone had sounded like old Florida, ninety if he was a day, and the directions lacked road names; instead the turns were delineated by descriptions such as “best orange juice in town” or “a great place to get an oil change.” Tilden hoped these businesses were still open, and he wouldn’t be searching for a turn marked by an abandoned weed filled gas station.

Tilden turned off the main highway onto a series of smaller and more poorly paved roads. He was searching for the cafe described as the best sweet roll in the state when he noticed Luke on the phone. Tilden hadn’t heard the phone ring, but maybe Luke had it on vibrate. Tilden had dashed an email off to Milton, telling him they were switching hotels, but no other details. Tilden had his own phone off, not wanting to hear from the minions at the network.  Tilden raised an eyebrow when Luke dropped the phone back in his pocket.

“Later,” Luke muttered, giving Tilden an attempt at a reassuring smile, which made Tilden’s alarm bells go off louder.

“Are we almost there?” Mike asked, trying to change the subject. “I didn’t know we were going out in the backwoods.”

“Me either,” Tilden said, “but beggars can’t be choosers.” He wrenched the steering wheel to miss a large hole in the road and slammed on the brakes as he saw the sign for the hotel. They bumped along a rutted driveway of more sand than gravel before pulling in front of a series of tired looking cabins with several white-haired men and women lounging on porch swings or playing shuffleboard.

“I thought we were staying in a hotel, not a retirement home,” Mike snarked, climbing out of the car.

“It will be peaceful,” Tilden said, trying to put the best face on it. Mike was right; all the guests looked in their eighties, and Tilden had a sinking feeling that the management wasn’t much younger.

“Yeah, we can have a rousing game of shuffleboard, followed by Tiddlywinks, and a nap. I’m so looking forward to it.”

“Behave, Misha,” Tilden said sharpening his tone. “We still have to have a little discussion, and I don’t think you want to add to it. Let’s get checked in.”

“I can’t wait.”

Tilden clicked his fingers. “I could do it right here. I’m sure Ma and Pa Kettle sitting over there would find it interesting—the exciting new dance of young people.”

“You wouldn’t,” Mike protested, but did move to Tilden’s side.

“Don’t try me. It’s been a long day.” Tilden squeezed Mike’s shoulder.

Tilden checked them in with only moderate inefficiency caused by the bumbling of the not young gentleman behind the desk. Mike squirmed with impatience, but stayed quiet under Tilden’s reassuring hand. The small cabin was about as Tilden expected, old with a shag rug in a most unusual gold-brown color. It had the advantage of being at the far end, out of earshot. Both boys fiddled, putting their clothes in the drawers, before Tilden finally chased Luke out to go swimming and captured Mike’s hand and guided him to sit down on the bed.

“So, what do you think we should do about today?” Tilden asked when it became obvious that Mike wasn’t going to volunteer anything. 

“You’re the top. I assume you’re going to do your thing,” Mike spat.

Tilden shifted and pulled Mike out of balance and over his knees, landing several cracking spanks. “Do you want to do it this way?” Tilden rested his palm on Mike’s thinly covered bottom.

“It’s your choice.”

Tilden raised a knee and reached under Mike to unfasten the shorts on his now struggling partner. “Stop.” Tilden landed three swift swats. “I gave you a chance to do this differently, and you declined.”

“Declined,” Mike parroted at Tilden jerked down Mike’s shorts and started spanking in earnest. 

Mike struggled, kicking and bucking until Tilden trapped his partner’s legs. “I can do this longer than you can,” Tilden said calmly, continuing to spank with renewed vigor.

“Stop,” Mike wailed. “Please, I’ll behave.”

Tilden rubbed Mike’s back but didn’t let him up. “So what happened today?”

“Can’t we just get this over with?”

Tilden landed two hard swats at the top of Mike’s thighs. 

“I’m sorry about today,” Mike cried as he bucked across Tilden’s lap.

“Are you sorry about punching Jack or about the fact you’re now trapped across my lap?” Tilden asked, not relenting.

“I shouldn’t have hit him, but he shouldn’t have slapped Luke.”

“No, he shouldn’t have,” Tilden said, running his hand over the hot flesh. “I understand the anger. I would have wanted to take a swing at him also. I’d be using the paddle if I didn’t understand. But I love you, Mishenka. I don’t want you languishing in some jail because you assaulted someone in a rage. If a sound spanking makes you think twice, I’m happy to spank you.” Tilden landed another flurry of swats, continuing until he felt Mike’s shaking sobs. “Shorts off; go stand in the corner.” 

Mike slid off Tilden’s lap and gave his top an incredulous look but shuffled to the corner, his head down, tears still streaming down his face. Tilden sat on the bed, trying to not let the anguish show in his face. He wanted to hug his boy, tell him everything was forgiven, but Tilden knew Mike needed a harder line. “He wants you to take that control,” Milton had advised. “Later he might take a lighter touch but not now.”

Tilden watched the shaking shoulders, Mike’s hands gripping his shirt, keeping it off his tender backside. Tilden watched his partner choke back sobs, his shoulders settling as he started to sag into the corner.

“Come over here.” Tilden barked, snapping his fingers and pointing at the floor beside the bed.

Mike walked over, trying to hold onto his dignity, his eyes down, wiping his face with the front of his T-shirt. He sank to his knees and leaned toward Tilden, who automatically rested his hand on his boy’s head. “This hasn’t been one of your better days, but I do understand.” Tilden let his fingers play through Mike’s hair. His partner liked this, the quiet moments of comfort and submission.  Keeping one hand on Mike, Tilden reached into his pocket and flipped on his phone. He was sure he’d have several messages from Milton, but he was surprised to find increasingly irate text messages from Gordon Lewis. “What’s Gordon want?” Tilden muttered to himself. “I don’t want to deal with him today.”

“Luke called him,” Mike whispered, pressing closer to Tilden.

“What?” Tilden said, immediately realizing his voice had been too sharp when he felt Mike stiffen. “You’re not in trouble, Mishenka. I just hadn’t realized Luke and Gordon had become friends.”

“They’re not.”

“Go on,” Tilden prodded.

“Luke called about us leaving the show. He’s been around big shots; he knows they don’t like to lose. He figured Gordon would know what to do.”

“I see,” Tilden said, trying to keep his voice absolutely even. “When did he call him?”

“When we were in the car. You had the radio up. You’re not mad, are you?”

“No.” Tilden ruffled Mike’s hair. “I would have like to know ahead of time, but I’m not mad.” He’d like to throttle Luke. Now he’d have to survive Gordon’s interference and probable scolding for having let himself become involved in something as stupid and inappropriate as a reality TV show. “Go wash your face and find Luke. I’ll be out as soon as I can.”

“You don’t want me privy to Gordon chewing you out.”

“You’re impossible.” Tilden landed a playful smack on Mike’s butt and was rewarded with a grin. “Don’t say it. I know I like you this way.”

Mike nodded and scampered into the bathroom away from any stray swats. Tilden smiled, waiting to make the call until he had Mike outside. His brat wouldn’t hesitate to listen from behind closed doors. Milton had described Mike as resilient, and if Mike’s cheek was anything to go by he’d already recovered from the spanking, a harder spanking than Tilden had planned. Tilden had wanted to do more talking, explain that he understood the motivation but frowned on the action. It seemed Mike wanted a very clear message. You don’t sock people no matter how much they deserve it. 

“Come on, Mike. I’m sure you and Luke can find ways to entertain the octogenarians poolside.”

Mike came out of the bathroom dressed in Tilden’s swim trunks. “The back of my thighs were too red for mine.”

“Go, brat, before I make everything redder,” Tilden said, pushing Mike out the door and tossing him a towel.

Tilden collapsed in the only chair, almost popping up again from the quality of the cushion. He grabbed his phone and punched in the Vermont number. Maybe he’d be lucky and Gordon was out, lost on a ski slope.

“Gordon Lewis.”

“It’s Tilden Blake.”

“So you do answer the phone. I thought perhaps cell phones had gone out of fashion with Russian professors,” Gordon said in that cold sarcastic tone that always put Tilden’s teeth on edge.

“I’m here,” Tilden said, keeping his voice clipped and professional. “How may I help you?”

“I had an interesting chat with that boy of yours this morning. Luke may act like he’s drifting into the background, but he’s a sharp lad. He must have his father’s brains, even though he didn’t inherit that man’s dreadful personality.”

“You know his father?” Tilden asked, interested in spite of himself.

“You can’t be in business and not know him. Nasty piece of work. It’s amazing he has such a lovely son. Luke understands when powerful business people want revenge. You walked away from a very powerful television network after signing an egregious contract. I expect they’ll come after you.”

“They put my partners in danger,” Tilden said hotly. “I’m not worth the money to sue—a part of a house and a professor’s salary—that will go far.”

“Luke got slapped a couple of times. No jury will consider that in danger, especially when all the glorious details of you spanking him come to light.”

“That’s different.” The outrage bubbled over in Tilden’s voice.

“Settle down, my lad.”

“I’m not your boy, lad, or whatever else you want to call me.”

“No, you’re not,” Gordon said in an impossibly calm voice, “but it gets your attention.”

“Bastard.”

Gordon laughed. “You’re not the first one to call me that. Are you ready to listen?”

“What choice do I have?”

“You can always hang up.”

“And you’d call me back every five minutes.”

“No. Tilden, this is your choice to accept my help. You’re not a spinning boy. I’m not going to force it on you. You are a top who made a choice which I understand, but it was a choice made based on emotions, not logic. Wait,” Gordon continued when Tilden tried to interrupt with a growl. “I understand those emotions. I have them myself. You don’t hurt what is mine. Unchecked, those emotions have made you vulnerable, and the television people will exploit it. Your college has been supportive of your foray into the madness of reality TV. Will they be supportive if your private life is dragged through court? You could hedge and dodge questions about corporal punishment on television; you can’t under oath.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you to meet with a lawyer, Sean Wright. He does a substantial amount of work in the entertainment business. He’ll take good care of you, and you’ll like him.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He’s a submissive. You’re both more comfortable with submissives and more controlled with your emotions and temper. You’ll talk to him instead of shout at him.”

Tilden made a noncommittal noise, stung by Gordon’s sharp analysis.

“Yes, my boy, you can’t get within ten feet of me without starting a row. I’m aware of my own culpability in our difficulties. You don’t need to say it, but I’ve watched you with Joshua, whom I believe you would consider a friend. There’s an edge between the two of you, and Joshua is far more careful about keeping a distance between himself and your submissives than he is with Sheldon. You’re protective and possessive, my boy. With Milton, you’re different, and Trent is too innocuous to raise your ire. You have an affinity for submissives. I’m surprised they don’t follow you around and eat breadcrumbs off your shoulder.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“You’re welcome.” There was more warmth and affection than Tilden had ever heard in Gordon’s voice. 

Tilden felt his face flush, embarrassed that he’d treated Gordon with unkindness and rudeness. Gordon had tried for years to patch up their differences, and Tilden had pushed him away. “I’m sorry.”

“Tilden, I wasn’t looking for an apology. I hurt you. I’ve been hurt in my life and nothing the aggressor could say to me would make that hurt go away.”

“Your father never tried,” Tilden interrupted softly.

“No, the bastard.” Gordon laughed bitterly. “I wear my scars; I should have known better than to leave scars on you.”

“Let’s not talk about it.”

“Very well.” The false heartiness in Gordon’s voice was unmistakable. “Sean can meet you tomorrow. Listen to his advice; it will be good. And try to arrange some fun for him and your boys afterward. He has to hide his penchant for brattiness at the office, and he sounded like he needed sorted.”

“Are you suggesting that I set him up to get in trouble?”

“Nothing so underhanded. Find a nice safe way for him to push a little and push back. Sean’s not shy about telling you if he needs a thumping, and you’re safe. There are very few tops I’d turn lose on an un-partnered boy, especially one as dramatic as Sean. Milton taught you well.”

“I’m not sure I want to do this.”

“It’s one of the penalties for being one of the best tops I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. You manage two maniacs; a third for a few hours will be no trouble.”

“Why do I think this is some kind of British understatement?”

“I was born in South Africa, and I now have a US passport. You best get your continents straight.”

“Fine. Any other surprises lurking in the closest?”

“Hurry home. Milton talks to you in ways he won’t talk to me, and Sheldon’s brother is going to create difficulties.”

“What’s going on?” Milton hadn’t mentioned any specific difficulties beyond Sheldon’s belief in Blade’s brattiness, and with Mary now with Milton’s grandfather Tilden thought the worst of the crisis had passed.

“I’m not sure. Milton will think out of the box with you. He won’t do that with me, and I think he’s going to need to if I’m reading Sheldon correctly.”

“Have you warned him?”

“Of course. No one deserves to be blindsided by Sheldon.”

“I’ll try, but he’s difficult on the phone.”

“I know. Landon and I might have to drop in for an unexpected visit.”

“He’ll love that.” Tilden chuckled, surprised he was laughing with Gordon.

“Won’t he. You need to get back to your boys. Let me give you Sean’s contact information. Text him directions, and good luck.”

They finished the business end of the conversation and hung up. Tilden sighed. He’d have to deal with this Sean character tomorrow. He’d better be a damn good lawyer if he was going to brat. Of course he was a damn good lawyer. Tilden might not like Gordon, but he knew enough about the man to respect his business decisions. If Gordon thought Tilden needed a lawyer, he needed the lawyer. Now the brat thing was different. Was it part of the payment, or a sidebar to distract Tilden? Gordon was clever that way, moving people around the board like chess pieces. Tilden ran his fingers through his hair, standing it on end. He’d thought Gordon manipulated people to enjoy the power, Machiavellian machinations, but now he wasn’t sure. God, it was easier to see him as the bully top. Tilden propelled himself off the bed and changed. Time for a rousing game of shuffleboard. Indecipherable tops and television executives could wait until tomorrow.