The Brownstone: Michael Ch. 05

All three of us were men who preferred the company of other men, lived by the strict code that business always came first and sex a strong second. Cecil was a Master through and through. He led a regimented life of work, Mastering and family. Charles and I were lovers who enjoyed a private exclusive life with each other but also enjoyed taking control and being Masters. I had been with Charles since I nineteen and I wasn't sure I knew how to be with anyone else. Sucking and fucking another man was one thing but being with someone was totally different. I now understood so completely why Charles had come looking for me. It was a spiritual need that needed to be fulfilled. I needed to find the ying to my yang.

The next call went to my assistant, Ms. Wilson, telling her to clear my schedule until further notice and to let her know that they'd be staying in New York for a least the next week or two. Ms. Wilson knew better than to protest, since Charles had passed away I was prone to fits of anger and she had learned to go along with whatever I wanted. At 10am I walked into Fisher, Callahan and Dorsey, Bud Fisher's law firm, unannounced and insisted on being escorted to Bud's office. Bud was already half-way to the lobby by the time they had called up to his office. "So I'm here, take me to the kid." I said with a resigned look on my face.

"You just can't walk in here like this..."

"Cut the crap Bud, just take me to him."

Associates were relegated to the lower floors. They all had 10X10 offices with a desk, chair, computer and file cabinet. Desk after desk lay pristinely neat and tidy, with relatively no paperwork lying about. Until we got to Scott's office. Bud literally had to grab a guest chair from a meeting room for me to sit on. Scott was on the phone speaking rapidly in Chinese, yelling at certain times, quietly listening at others. Stacks of paper rested on every surface of the small office and Scott's desk looked like an explosion had gone off. He saw Bud and motioned for him to come in, when Bud stepped to the side and I walked in Scott simply nodded and held up a long tapered finger indicating he'd be another minute or so.

"Thank you Bud, I'll take it from here." I said, "I'm sure I'll see you later."

"Michael, behave yourself..." Were his parting words as he turned heel and walked away.

Leaning back in the chair I took the minute or so I had to assess Scott. He was definitely better looking in person than in the pictures although he needed a good hair cut, most likely a new razorblade in his shaver but most of all he needed new clothes. I was abhorred by the way this kid was dressed. From head to toe he was a mess. Shoes that weren't shined and badly scuffed, pants that looked like they were from his high school days, his not-so-white white shirt was home ironed with enough missed spots to make him look completely unkempt. The worst offense, however, were the rolled up sleeves and the loosened tie. If this kid was coming to work for Cecil & Company I knew I would have to invest in a complete make-over for him.

Finally hanging up the phone Scott turned to me and extended his hand to him, "Scott Philips" he said. His hand lingered a second longer than it should have and I found myself staring deep into his eyes for that uncomfortable moment.

"Michael Layton" I said retrieving my hand back from his.

Hearing my name sparked a shocked recognition in his eyes, but couldn't fathom why I was sitting in his office. "N...nice to meet you sir," was about all he could reply.

"I heard you speaking Chinese on the phone, would it be too nosey of me to ask why?"

"I was speaking to a contact I have in China. I'm working on an acquisition for a technical manufacturing company." Scott seemed to lean forward towards me allowing his hands to flail about to add dramatic flair to his words while he spoke. "When a client asks me to look into a company of course the first thing I do is look at financials. The financials, tax returns, audits and inventory were all in A-1 condition for this client, except for one little thing. There was a higher than normal percentage of returns and defective inventory."

"So what did you do?" I couldn't seem to be able to take my eyes off of him. His body exuded this quiet sexuality that was making my dick hum to a tune it hadn't sang in close to a year.

"The merchandise is assembled here in American, but the parts come from China, so I've spoken to every factory that manufactures the parts. I found the problem too. It seems that since the last earthquake the equipment won't hold calibration properly. Since this is the only factory in China that makes this one component they don't appear to care. The owner of the factory was planning on closing it down next year anyway, tired of all the labor issues and such"

"So what now?"

"Now I have my sources in Thailand searching to see if there is a factory there that can kick out the part, if there is I will recommend to my client to low ball the acquisition price. Not too many people know about the Thai factories, it's always been my ace in the hole. If it can't be gotten in Thailand, I will advise them to walk. It wouldn't be worth it. The downtime until they find a factory that can re-tool this component would put them in irreversible red."

I was impressed. This kid sure knew how to do his homework and didn't leave anything to chance. He might be exactly what this project needed to get it back on track.

"I really hate to cut this meeting short, but I've got a meeting with the client to review my findings so far."

"I'm sure it would be totally inappropriate if I sat in on the meeting." I said laughing but hoping. He politely dismissed by idea. We stood and walked together out of his office. Again, I was taken back that Scott was about to meet with a client and didn't bother to put on a suit jacket or roll down his sleeve and button his cuffs or fix his tie.

"I don't know if Bud told you, but I'm looking for a new M&A attorney for a project I'm working on. Bud speaks very highly of you. I can see why. I'd like to meet with you again Scott. Would you please call me so we can set up a time?" I handed my personal card that only had my name and cell phone number on it. "That's my cell number, you won't need to call my office and put up with office bureaucracy to get through to me."

We shook hands again and I left. I couldn't stop thinking about Scott. There was something about him that was calling me to him. Unfortunately the reality was that I had to let my brain make any decisions with regards to him and not my cock. My mind drifted to the brownstone and the men there. There was an unwritten code that these men lived by and that was to live our life honestly and with as much integrity as business allowed. But times had changed and I was disturbed that because of it I was being forced into what might be a duplicitous beginning with Scott. In 1963 Cecil took Charles to be his on Charles' merit alone, as Charles had practically done with me. Things like communicable disease and back ground profiles weren't a part of the world they lived in. The day Charles got the phone call from Tom about me, although our lifestyle was more open, Charles's instinct told him that I was okay. He had done a cursory background report on me that covered the basics of birth, school and if there was any criminal activity. It all boiled down to the fact that both men trusted their partners, something that I unfortunately didn't have the luxury of doing.

The internet and social media put everyone's life in a fishbowl. Words like respect and trust had been replaced by pre-nups, contracts and lawsuits. I didn't feel I had any choice but to insure that Scott was exactly who I thought he was.

Stan Levin was the private detective they used at the brownstone. Every person, members, submissives and employees were subject to an in depth background check. If an applicant didn't pay a $5 parking fine we knew about it. I hated that I had to make the phone call, but before I even considered anything with Scott I needed to know everything about him. I had called Stan the evening before to run a complete background check on Scott. Unlike the one I had my office run Stan did things and went into places the computer didn't all cover. Stan called me at 11pm that night with the results of his investigation. Still up we met at the brownstone bar where I flipped through the background and concentrated on the personal information that Stan had gathered listening to him talk while I flipped through the pictures on my iPad.

"He and his wife live in apartment he purchased while still in college. Their place has a neat, unlived in look. They appear to lead very separate lives. She definitely lives in the master bedroom. The closest and bathroom only have her stuff in them. His things are relegated to two bedrooms on the opposite side of the apartment. He uses one room as an office and I suspect he sleeps in the other -- it certainly has that 'slept-in' look. Shit man, It even looks like they keep their food separated in the kitchen. I'm willing to guarantee you these two lead very separate lives.

"Now for the tech stuff, first the cell phone. He doesn't make very many calls on it. There are no pictures. No text messages. He has his business email loaded on it, but nothing personal. He calls his wife once a day, usually around 7pm, they talk for about three or four minutes and that's it. He has two laptops, one I couldn't access, it is company issued and painfully locked. But the personal one I was able to get into. I didn't even have to use a password-cracker I just typed in HARVARDLAW and got right in. I hit the payload there - lots of porn."

I leaned closer to him, suddenly interested in the conversation.

"Surprise, surprise," Stan proclaimed, "The kid likes to look at men-on-men porn. He seems to be fixated on it. Loves to look at two things, one is men with big cocks and the second is guys sucking off other guys. Hell, there was so much porn I got a boner looking through some of that shit.

"Anyway not only does he like the videos but he subscribes to a couple of pay sites where he watches guys jack off. He's slick too, uses a prepaid credit card so it can't be traced. His laptop was older and didn't have a built in camera. I also didn't find a camera anyplace in the apartment, so I suspect it's all one way. One of the weirdest things was that normally guys like this like to take pictures of their cocks, but there wasn't anything like that on his computer. He doesn't even email with anyone. He's got one Gmail account that he rarely uses. Of course there were definite signs that he jacks off, but I'll spare you those details. "Michael, I couldn't find any evidence that he ever had any face-to-face meetings with anyone. I went through everything in the apartment, every bag, every pocket and couldn't find one condom, lubricant, toys or poppers in any of his stuff or hers.

"The weirdest part of everything is the kid is fucking rich. His father left him a small fortune that he had never touched and is just growing daily. The apartment is paid for. He also owns a car and there is a storage facility that has some pretty pricy art work in it. None of it means anything to the kid. He buys his clothes off the rack and washes and irons them himself. They don't even have a domestic help. It's just odd."

Stan stood to leave, but stopped and turned back to Michael "One last thing, I know you didn't ask for this, but I 'ran into' him today outside of his office, good looking kid by the way. My watch 'accidentally' cut his forearm. I palmed a blood collection nodule in my handkerchief and sent it to the lab. I know you didn't ask me to do this, but I know the rules at the brownstone and wanted to cover the bases for you. I'll send over the results as soon as I get them."

Now all I had to do was wait for Scott to call me.