Debatables

He was there, inside the stable, watching them, for several minutes before they became aware of his presence. When they did, it was after the monsignor had slowly unbuttoned the thirty-three buttons of his cassock and spread the cassock apart, showing not only that he was naked underneath but also that a firm erection jutted out from his gray pubic bush.

Somewhat shocked, but the scenario being too clear for Paul to bother to try to hide it, Paul turned his head to the monsignor. He didn't seem all that surprised that the priest was naked and erect under his cassock. "You didn't have time to get to the hotel and back—and I don't see a first aid kit. Have you been—?"

"I've been watching from the shadows the entire time, yes," Scarlotti said. "I figured that Brother Thomas would be at you for this. I didn't buy into his charade of a twisting ankle. And you know what I want now."

It was only after the monsignor had saddled up behind Paul and had thrust inside him and was fucking him from behind while Paul was fucking Brother Thomas missionary style that the mentor and his students of thirty years previously were truly traveling back down memory lane.

* * * *

The three were not exactly missed by those they'd left back at the hotel. David Eagleton, who had carried a crush for Brother Thomas all these years but had suppressed it because Monsignor Scarlotti was in control and Paul Frasier had been there first, had been deeply taken with Chris Cahill earlier in the evening. Chris so closely resembled the young Thomas, who David had pined for but had never won, that David was smitten by him. David followed Chris to the men's room from the Jefferson bar and was delighted to find that Chris had no problem with being propositioned by him. Chris wasn't just Paul Frasier's personal assistant; he also was Paul Frasier's boy toy.

While Paul and the clerics were having their memory-lane threesome in the stables, David Eagleton was thoroughly into Chris—in the literal meaning of that word—in Chris' room at the hotel. And David wasn't the least bit worried about where his young wife, Amber, was or what she was doing. They had an arrangement for political reasons.

Amber wasn't being overlooked, however. The message she'd passed to their waiter in the Jefferson bar had had its immediate—and intended—effect. Those two, young, beautiful people were fucking like rabbits in an empty room the waiter had purloined with the help of a friend at the reception desk.