The Campaign Ch. 01

Thunder rolled from the mountains to the west. Moments later a warm breeze washed over the river and across the balcony, rustling the edges of the white tablecloths. Derrick looked up from the small table where he had been arranging glasses on a tray. Fat, full clouds washed in shades of coral and tangerine drifted across the horizon. The sun had dipped behind the mountains so the valley was lit by a cool twilight that caught his eye and held his gaze beyond the river.

"You lose something?" asked Tim; the manager had snuck up while Derrick was transfixed.

"Did you hear that thunder?" replied Derrick.

"Didn't notice," said Tim as he heaved a box of reds onto the table and began slicing the cardboard.

"It might rain," said Derrick.

"You better hope it doesn't; there's no way all these people will fit inside."

"I don't want to get wet, either."

"Your uniform will dry, kid," said Tim as he grabbed an armful of reds and carried them over to the bar at the other corner of the balcony.

Derrick finished arranging the glasses on his tray then bent down to pull a bottle of white from the cooler. A cheap California chardonnay, but still more expensive than anything he'd buy for himself. He carefully filled all the glasses on his tray, tugged on his vest to straighten it, and ran his fingers through his wavy, blonde hair. Whatever he did, it always seemed to flop to one side, and a lock or two would frequently fall over his forehead. He grabbed the tray in his left hand and steadied it, then began another round of the balcony.

Guests were still arriving, but a number had already made their way out. It was late April so the afternoon sun left the air warm, but the evening breeze washing in across the river held a chilly edge. If it was a big party, then guests would be coming and going all night to catch the relief of the cool, evening air. But if it was small then he might spend more time staring over the river than serving drinks. Derrick had catered at all kinds of parties in the past year: formals, fundraisers, and more weddings than he could count. Dothan was a city, but still small enough that there were only a few high class catering companies in town. He'd moved here a few years earlier for college, but now that that was over, he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do next.

A few more guests trickled out. Derrick meandered around, offering them glasses of chardonnay and directing them to the bar Tim was manning in the corner when they asked for spirits. Technically, they weren't allowed to accept tips at all -- not when the clientele they were serving were as high society as the guests tonight. But the bartenders always got away with a few bills here and there, especially when one of the old men wanted something a little stronger for a young lady, to make her more pliable or to drown her out.

Derrick continued his rounds, occasionally stopping at the bar to drop off dirty glasses and pick up fresh ones. A fat, older woman fanning herself with one of the museum's maps grabbed a glass from Derrick and held it against her forehead,

"My gawd, it's hot in there. Aren't y'all hot in there?" she said to the few other women gathered around her. Derrick offered them chardonnay, they accepted, but kept it from their foreheads. It had cooled down on the balcony, but there wasn't anything crazy going on inside, he couldn't imagine it was all that hot in the museum halls. Derrick had been to parties with dancefloors so crowded that even if you squeezed out the side to get a breath of fresh air, you could still feel the heat pulsing from the dancing bodies -- the music, the lights, enough chaos that even for a small southern city, a boy could snake his arms around another boy's body and go unnoticed, at least for a while.

"Son, hey there, son, I said, could you help me?" Derrick blinked back to reality and turned to look at the man snapping for his attention.

"What?" he said.

"'What?'" the man exaggerated the word and shook the loose skin that hung from his neck.

"Don't just stand there, I said, could you help me?" Derrick put his tray down on a table and walked over to the man.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nearly everything," said the man. Derrick opened his mouth to reply but the man cut him off,

"No, don't give me them puppy dog eyes like you're all sorry, it's not your fault. I didn't mean to get short with you, I'm just pressed for time." Derrick hadn't felt bad, but the man didn't give him a chance to say so.

"I'm giving the keynote tonight, but look around, they haven't got anything for me to stand at, and nothing for me to put my papers on."

"Sir, I'm with the catering company," said Derrick, but the man waved his hands.

"I hear you, I do, but the museum's staff is all busy or else sitting on their asses taking their sweet time with their smoke breaks. You look like a nice, strong young man, it'll just take five minutes," he said.

"I'm supposed to man the balcony, sir," said Derrick.

"Listen son, if your boss gets upset, I'll take all the blame. You know who I am?" Derrick shook his head.

"Well I'm sure your boss does. Now come on, I've got to get a move on," he said.

"I really shouldn--" The man put his hand on Derrick's shoulder and squeezed it.

"It'll be worth your while, son," he said. Derrick shrugged; at least it would be a change of scenery.

"Alright, sure," he said. The man grinned,

"That's a good boy. This way," he said. The man led Derrick inside the museum, around the edge of the dancefloor where a band was playing some uptempo jazz, and down a narrow exhibit hall scattered with pastoral landscapes. Halfway down the hall the man opened a door and held it for Derrick,

"Down here," he said. Derrick stepped in and the man followed; his hand brushed down Derrick's back and rested for a moment on his ass. Derrick stepped to the side,

"Which way," he asked. A staircase went down, and another up.

"It's in the basement," the man said. Derrick held out his hand and motioned for the man to lead. He flashed a smile at Derrick as he grasped the rail and began slowly stepping down the stairs. As he lowered each leg onto the next step, it shook a little, and he kept a firm grip on the rail. He was old enough to be Derrick's father, and then some. His hair was completely gray except for a shiny bald spot on the crown of his head. Derrick kept three steps behind the man until they reached the bottom of the stairs. The man again held the door open for Derrick. This time, he didn't put his hand on Derrick's back, he placed it firmly on Derrick's ass and gave it a quick squeeze as the door clicked shut behind them.

"We should hurry--" began Derrick, but the man interrupted,

"This way, come on, just down this hall." Derrick followed him down the hall then around a bend. At the end of the bend there was a dark storeroom lined with shelves stacked with frames and hooks, chairs stacked in neat rows, temporary tables folded against the walls, and cleaning supplies tossed into a pile. The man flicked a switch and dim lights hummed on. Derrick looked around the room.

"I don't see a podium, sir," he said. The man was quiet. Derrick turned to look at him, he was eyeing Derrick up and down; his gaze stopped on Derrick's crotch.

"It's here somewhere," he said, then he took his jacket off and loosened his tie.

"It's hot as Hades down here, isn't it?" he said.

"It's pretty warm," Derrick agreed. The man undid his belt and let it hang loose.

"Why don't you get more comfortable," he said, "it'll make searching easier." He took a few steps closer to Derrick so that they were face to face. Derrick was average height for a man, about 5'9". In his prime, the man would've had a few inches on him, but now they were almost eye level.

"I think I'll be ok," said Derrick. The man reached out and brushed Derrick's wavy blonde hair away from his forehead.

"Such pretty blue eyes," said the man. Derrick gulped. With his other hand the man grabbed Derrick's crotch. He rubbed his fingers around Derrick's balls and when he found the head of Derrick's hardening dick he massaged it with his thumb. His eyes lit up,

"I see my boy's excited," he said. Derrick swallowed hard, but didn't know what to say.

"Come on, let's get more comfortable," he said, and he unfastened Derrick's pants and tugged them to the floor. He stared down at Derrick's hardening dick and grinned. He grabbed it in his hand and squeezed it gently; Derrick shut his eyes and let out a quiet moan.

"My boy likes that, does he?" Derrick wasn't sure what to say. He opened his eyes. The man stuck his middle finger in his mouth and when he pulled it out his spit dripped from it onto the floor.

"You ever been fucked by a real daddy, boy?"

"Umm, I don't wan--" Derrick shut his eyes and gasped. The man wriggled his wet middle finger just inside Derrick's asshole. His dick pulsed and a drop of precum fell to the floor.

"That's it, open up for daddy," said the man. The man pulled his finger out of Derrick's ass, then slipped two back in. He let go of Derrick's now hard cock. Derrick shook his head and opened his eyes. The man was unzipping his trousers and pulling his still flaccid dick out of his briefs. He stared at Derrick's cock as he continued to pull his fingers in and out of his asshole and stroke his own growing dick.

"That's right, you want daddy's dick inside you, don't you boy? You want daddy to bury his cock in your tight, little hole, don't you?"

"I'm not sure about this--" stammered Derrick.

"You're gonna do what I say," said the man. He thrust another finger into Derrick's asshole without warning and Derrick yelped.

"Now, bend over, boy."

"I don't want to," said Derrick. The man pulled his fingers out, then rammed four in. Derrick moaned and more precum dripped from his dick.

"I said bend over."

Another light in the storeroom flickered on.

"Your wife was looking for you, Richard." A man with dark hair and a neatly cropped beard was standing at the entrance to the storeroom.

"She said something about being hot," said the man, "but it looks like you're busy; should I go grab her?" he asked.

Richard's grin hardened into a scowl. He yanked his hand out of Derrick's ass which made Derrick gasp and fall forward.

"That won't be necessary," said Richard. He stuffed his softening dick back into his trousers and zipped up his fly. He turned to look back at Derrick as he fixed his shirt and tie.

"You're gonna be good for daddy, aren't you? You aren't gonna tell anybody about our little secret?" Derrick nodded.

"That's right. It'd be shame to find out what would happen if you did," he said. He stepped out of the storeroom and bumped the man's shoulder on his way.

"You coming?" asked Richard to the new man.

"I'll be up shortly," he said.

Richard looked back at Derrick still standing with his pants around his ankles and a drop of precum hanging from his dick.

"Don't you get any ideas; that one's mine," he said.

"Your wife," said the man. Richard stalked out of the storeroom. The man rolled his eyes then put his hands on his hips and looked over Derrick. He remembered he was half naked and reached down to grab his pants; he winced.

"Are you alright?" asked the man.

"I'm fine," said Derrick.

"Want me to check?" asked the man.

"What?"

"He can be pretty rough when he gets in heat," said the man.

"I'm fine, I'm sure," said Derrick.

"Come on, let me just make sure he hasn't torn anything." Derrick's asshole throbbed; he looked the man over more carefully: he was tall with broad shoulders and even in his dinner jacket Derrick could tell his arms were muscular. His dark hair and beard were trimmed neatly, and he had bright green eyes.

"Ok. Thanks," said Derrick. The man nodded then crossed the room and knelt down behind Derrick.

"Mind if I touch you?" he asked. Derrick should his head.

"I'm Michael, by the way," he said.

"I'm Derrick."

"Nice to meet you." The man grabbed Derrick's ass cheeks in his hands and gently pulled them apart. For a moment he felt the man's breath on his hole, and another drop of precum dripped off his dick.

"Everything looks good alright ," said Michael.

"Good," said Derrick quickly.

"Could be some internal damage from a nail if he wasn't careful, but you'd probably rather have a doctor sticking things up your ass to check for tears than a stranger, huh?" the man laughed and stood up. Derrick nodded and smiled weakly.

"Are you sure you're alright?" asked Michael.

"I'm fine," said Derrick again.

"We can get you some help, some real help," said Michael. Derrick shook his head.

"I can be discreet about it," he said. Derrick sighed,

"I'm fine. I just feel stupid."

"How did he get you?" asked Michael.

"He said he needed help moving a podium; said all the staff was busy; he said he needed it for his keynote. Then before I knew what he was doing he just grabbed me. I didn't know what to say." Michael nodded.

"There isn't a keynote," he said. Derrick looked up and Michael was staring back at him. Michael's green eyes were flanked on either side by thinly set crow's feet that gathered when he smiled; he looked to Derrick to be in his mid forties, but fit for his age.

"I am an idiot," said Derrick quietly and he looked away. Michael reached down and tipped Derrick's chin up to meet his gaze again,

"Helping someone doesn't make you an idiot," he said, "maybe just a bit naive." Derrick smiled,

"Thanks," he said. Michael patted him on the shoulder.

"I'm glad you're alright." He stepped back and looked down at Derrick's dick; to Derrick's embarrassment he realized that not only were his pants still around his ankles, but his dick was still mostly hard too. He fumbled for his pants and stuffed his dick back into his underwear as he pulled them up.

"I can see why Richard was after you," said Michael, "you're cute." Derrick looked down and pretended to be brushing something off his pants.

"You're one of the caterers?"

"Yeah," said Derrick.

"Does it pay well?" asked Michael. Derrick shrugged,

"Enough," he said. Michael crossed his arms and looked Derrick up and down again.

"Very cute," he said. Derrick ran his fingers through his hair and cleared his throat.

"I could use someone like you: young, innocent, handsome," said Michael. Derrick's breath caught in his chest. Michael uncrossed his arms and reached inside his coat. He pulled out a business card and held it out. Derrick took the card and studied it:

Michael Harwood, Campaign Consultant

"If you're interested, give me a call. I could use your help, and you could make some real money," said Michael.

"Thanks," said Derrick. Michael nodded,

"You should get back upstairs," he said.

"Are you staying down here?" asked Derrick in surprise.

"I'll be up in a few minutes; it wouldn't look good for the two of us to return from the basement together, especially if you decide to work for me." Derrick wasn't sure what Michael meant, but he'd been gone too long already, and he didn't want to try and explain to Tim where he'd been. Derrick slid the business card into his pocket and walked to the edge of the storeroom; he glanced over his shoulder as he rounded the corner, Michael was watching him.

When Derrick got back to the balcony Tim was too busy pouring drinks to notice that he'd even been gone. He walked to the bar on the far edge of the balcony and took out fresh glasses to fill with chardonnay. The large woman who'd been complaining about how hot she was shuffled over to Derrick,

"Hun, you got any ice in there? It's boiling out here," she said. Derrick slid the cooler lid shut and stood up.

"No ma'am," he said. The woman grunted,

"Might as well give me another glass of wine then," she said. Derrick nodded and handed her a glass.

"Now come on hun, don't be stingy, fill it up," she said.

"It is full, ma'am," said Derrick. The woman looked about as old as Richard; she wore a red dress that came mid way down her calves and pulled tight around her belly.

"Well then fill it up a little more," she said. Derrick wanted to tell her she could take the glass or fuck off, but he held his tongue; he couldn't afford to lose his job.

"It's full," he said. The woman ran her tongue across her bottom lip and put her hands on her hips.

"I don't like that tone, son," she said.

"Is there a problem over here?" Richard stepped from behind Derrick and put his hand around the woman's shoulders.

"No problem," said Derrick as he dropped his hands against his sides and clenched them into fists.

"There you are, darling," said the woman, "I was looking for you."

"You know me, I was just buzzing around inside," he said.

"I don't know how you could stand it in there; it's so goddam hot," said the woman. She fanned herself with her left hand and an oversized diamond ring sparkled in the evening light.

"That's why I need this young man to pour me a full glass of wine; I need something to cool down," she said. Derrick took one of the glasses off his tray and held it out to her.

"Young man, I already told you, I want a full glass," she said.

"Come on now son, top it off for her," said Richard.

"It is full," said Derrick.

"Now son, don't get like that with me." Derrick opened his mouth, he was about to tell the woman just where her husband had been.

"You don't want me to have to tell your boss how you've been treating the guests tonight, do you? He'd hate to hear that Senator Cartwright and his wife had words with one of their staff, wouldn't he?" Richard put his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. He grinned at Derrick.

"I'm just following directions," said Derrick.

"Well son, I hear what you're saying, but it looks to me like you're holding some sort of grudge against my wife. Looks like you've got some kind of point to make, I can't imagine what for. And you know what that means?" Derrick shook his head.

"It means we're not seeing events exactly eye to eye. And so if there's some kind of complaint or story to be told, it's going to be my word against yours. And you and me go to court to argue our cases, who do you think the judge is going to believe?" Mrs. Cartwright rolled her eyes.

"Honey all life is not a court case; you're just getting this boy all mixed up. Now son, it's not that serious, just give me a full glass of wine and we can put all this behind us," she said. Richard chuckled,

"Patty's always the peacemaker," Richard said with a chuckle, "but you know what, you're right as usual, my dear. Son, this doesn't have to be a big deal; just pour us a couple glasses of wine and we'll forget any of this ever happened. Does that sound ok?" Derrick gritted his teeth.

"Yes," he said.

"Yes?" replied Richard.

"Yes sir," whispered Derrick. He pulled a bottle of white out of the cooler and filled two glasses nearly to the brim then he held them out to Senator and Mrs. Cartwright. They took the glasses; Mrs. Cartwright sipped off the top of hers like a dog.

"Good choice, son," said Richard.

"Come on, Richard," said Patty as she carried her glass of wine with two hands away from the bar.

"I'm right behind you," said Richard. He took a step closer to Derrick and leaned in close.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll keep your mouth shut, you hear?" Derrick nodded. Richard patted him on the chest.

"Good boy," he said. He slipped his hand to the front of Derrick's pants and tucked something into Derrick's underwear with two fingers; he slid them far enough in to brush the top of Derrick's dick, then he turned quickly away.

"I expect we'll have plenty more business to discuss in the future, son," he said, and he walked away and joined his wife with a small crowd of guests.