Beach Bed and Beyond

I expected to read a straight-forward note from Daniel about the when and where of our next meeting as I ripped open the note he had left for me after our last weekend of torrent sex. Plus a possible explanation for why he had called my construction-job boss. What I found was something much different; something I could not have imagined; something that would dramatically change the course of my life.

"Dear Paul," he began. "Introducing you to the pleasures of man sex was as pleasurable for me as I'm sure it was for you. You are a rare find: a handsome and intelligent young man mature beyond your 18 years, and I don't mean just your beautiful cock. Although I may not be seeing you again, I have a rare offer for your consideration. I have left several things at the back of your closet: a garment bag with some new clothes and a shoe box with a fuller explanation of this proposal. Love, Daniel."

I was stunned. What could Daniel possibly be offering? Why might I never see him again?

I rolled off the bed, tucked my cock and balls into a pair of the silk jockeys Daniel had gotten me, and went to the closet. I pushed back my usual clutter of clothes and found a black garment bag. I unzipped it to find a dark blue blazer, grey slacks and two white shirts, all new. Under the bag was a shoe box with another envelope and two pair of new black socks and shoes.

I sat on the edge of my bed and opened the envelope. It contained one type-written page, $200 in cash and a thick cream-colored business card with just a name, Richard Ambrose, in elegant black script and in the upper left corner two intertwined letters in gold script: "TN."

"Paul, you are being invited to join a unique organization," the instructions began. "You are under no obligation to respond. The wardrobe and cash are yours. Accept them with our compliments.

"Our organization is called 'The Network','' it continued. "Members are highly successful and mutually supportive men from around the world. If interested in exploring this opportunity in greater detail, please meet with our senior associate on Friday evening at 7 at the Monmouth Hotel in Spring Lake. Present the enclosed card to the concierge. Please wear the wardrobe provided should you chose to meet with Mr. Ambrose. We believe it would be in your best interest to accept this invitation although we emphasize that you are under no obligation to do so."

Everyone at the Jersey Shore knew the Monmouth Hotel, one of two gigantic early 20th Century summer retreats for the super rich from New York and a year-round haven for high society. The massive five-story red-roofed beachfront hotel covered an entire block. I had walked through its intimidating portico twice as a messenger for an engineering firm during a junior-year summer internship. The elegant lobby exuded wealth and power.

I returned to the closet, took out the garment bag and spread out the contends on my bed: a two-button single-breasted Brooks Brothers Navy blue serge jacket with three gold buttons on the sleeves; light grey flannel pants; one short-sleeved and one long-sleeved white shirt. The shoe box had two pair of socks, "Made in Italy" dress shoes, a smooth black leather belt and a snap jewelry box containing gold cuff links embossed with an elaborately intertwined "T" and "N" (The Network?) that matched the buttons on the blazer and the initials on Ambrose's card. Daniel had surreptitiously taken my measurements: Everything would fit perfectly.

My head was spinning as I contemplated my options. How could I not explore further this "invitation?" What could it mean to meet someone in such an elegant setting? Where might it lead?

I carefully prepared for Friday, not knowing what to expect but anxious to make a good impression if it did prove worthwhile. My hands were hard and callused from months of construction work, but my muscles were hard and defined and I had developed a newfound strength and vigor. I got my hair trimmed, although normally I would have waited several more weeks for a haircut. I tried on the wardrobe and was blow away: cloths may not make the man, but they sure do make an impression. Everything fit perfectly. I knew I would fit in with the chic Monmouth Hotel patrons.

The sun was low in the sky as I walked the several blocks from my car to the impressive white portico of the hotel. I tried not to show my nervousness as I entered the palatial lobby and found the tuxedo-wearing concierge. He smiled and signaled to a bellboy when I handed him the Richard Ambrose calling card.

"Mr. Ambrose guest," he told the bellboy.

"Please follow me sir," the bellboy said with a friendly smile. He led me through nearly half a block of finely carpeted hallway decorated with gold-framed paintings of race horses, fox chases and idyllic landscapes. We emerged onto the south porch and he motioned me toward the east end where a fit looking middle-aged man sat at a table under a green awning. Smiling as I approached, he stood and offered his hand.

"Paul, so glad that you came," Ambrose said, motioning me to a chair. "Daniel has told me so many good things about you."

"Thank you sir," I said, noticing that the buttons on his light blue blazer matched the ones on my Navy blue jacket.

"May I offer you something to drink? I'm sorry it can't be anything stronger than iced tea or soda or something of that sort, but youth has many more pluses than minuses."

"Iced tea would be great," I said as he motioned for a waiter standing a discrete distance away. He ordered my drink and a fresh gin and tonic for himself.

"I'm sure you have many questions just as I did when I was invited to join The Network years ago," he said as we waited for the drinks. "Here's to what I hope will be a long association," he said when they arrived, clinking his glass to mine. "As mentioned in the letter Daniel left for you, our group includes many men of influence and power in business, government, academia, and elsewhere. All have or are destined to achieve success in their fields. But before going into greater detail about us, I would like to know a little more about you."

I nodded my willingness to take his questions as I glanced out across the tennis courts that separated the hotel from the beachfront and the Atlantic Ocean. Ambrose glanced at a leather-bound notebook embossed with the same elaborate "T" and "N" as our jacket buttons and his business card.

"Daniel tells us that you will be a freshman at Dartmouth this fall," he said, glancing at his notes.

"Yes sir, I want to study civil engineering."

"That's great Paul, but why Dartmouth?

"One of my high school teachers went there and recommended it," I said. He helped me get a partial academic scholarship."

"Well, it's a fine school, but there are others much better at teaching what you are interested in," Ambrose said. "MIT, for example."

I told him I wasn't able to afford a thorough college search and that I probably wouldn't have gotten into MIT in any case.

"We can help you with that," Ambrose said. "We have connections there."

I took the "we" to mean The Network.

"But I start at Dartmouth in a few weeks and they're giving me a scholarship," I reminded him.

"Don't worry about that," he said. "I think we can take care it. On another subject, Paul, let me ask you: have you ever been with a girl?"

The sudden shift of topic took me by surprise. "Well, yes sir, I have."

"That's good Paul. Please tell me about that."

I told him how I had dated girls, made out with lots, fingered and sucked the tits of a few and fucked one, Shirley, several times during my senior year. She did not date guys in high school because, I discovered, she preferred older men. She was physically and sexually mature beyond her years. She had asked me to teach her how to drive, which soon evolved into sex near isolated byways. Shirley was the aggressor, sliding her hand under my belt to feel my cock.

"Gee," she exclaimed the first time we were intimate. "You have the cock of a real man."

She got as aroused as I did sucking my cock and without a word swung her legs over me and slide my cock into her cunt. I had no time to resist, not that I wanted to. That first time it was more like she fucked me than I fucked her. She rode my cock, moaning with pleasure as she pulled up her blouse and had me suck the nipples of her soft tits.

Ambrose seemed pleased at hearing about my experience with Shirley. Being able to please a woman appeared to be part of the job description.

"Well Paul, it seems you have a well-rounded sexual appetite," he said with a wiry smile. "Daniel has given me a full report on your intimacy with him, and we know that you were enthusiastically aggressive when appropriate with your construction boss." He put a special emphasis on "aggressive," which I took to mean fucking him. "That's good, very good for our purposes."

I noticed as he talked and the sun began to set that our waiter carefully ushered anyone who entered the balcony to the west side, maintaining discrete distance between us and the other hotel patrons. No one overheard our colorful conversation.

"Well Paul," he said setting down his empty glass, "would you mind continuing this conversation in my suite? It's going to get chilly out here with the sun going down."

He lead me back into the hotel toward a bank of elevators. As attractive woman I took to be in her 40s walked past us, plainly eyeing me as she did. That prompted another wiry smile from Ambrose.

His elegant corner suite on the third floor had a beautiful view of the ocean and the coast to the south. I sat in a sofa and he took a chair facing me.

"We have an interesting arrangement at The Network," Ambrose said. "Our men receive offerings...assignments, if you will...that they may accept or decline. We match our members with the sexual desires of our clients. The client pays us and we pass along 70% to you deposited in a private bank account that you establish and control. Clients often add a generous tip, which is all yours and fine with us. They pay all expenses over and above the fee. Expenses can be substantial as travel to exotic places is often required. You may accept as many or as few assignments as your private career and interest permit."

He got up and went to a wet bar, poured gin and some tonic into a glass of ice. "May I get you something to drink, Paul?" I declined and he returned to his seat.

"Our fees are substantial because our clients demand quality and the utmost discretion," he continued. "I can't stress that enough. Our clients are often prominent and always wealthy. If you accept an assignment you must fully engage and do all you can to please the client. Fees start at $1,000 an hour and can reach tens of thousands for long assignments."

Ambrose took a sip of his drink as I tried to absorb the amounts of money I could only dream about making. "Aside from the money, there are other benefits: the adventure, meeting great people, gaining 'access' to men and sometimes women who can benefit you, such as getting you into MIT," he said with a chuckle. He turned serious. "There are some important ground rules that you have to accept if you want to join us, Paul. Our organization was developed by military and intelligence agency men. They are fiercely patriotic and from time-to-time ask members to take relevant action or provide information. A successful civil engineer, which we are confident you will become, would be a very valuable asset. You must keep yourself in good physical condition for whatever your age. And you have to perfect social graces needed to move in sophisticated circles. Another rule: we do not tolerate pedophilia among our members or clients. That's an absolute. Other sexual proclivities are acceptable as long as they are consensual and no one gets hurt. In return for following these rules we are well protected by those in power. How does all of this sound to you so far, Paul?"

"It's fine," I said, although my mind was spinning trying to process all he had said.

Ambrose continued: "We have men who have been with The Network for decades. Some are sexually active, meeting the desires of their long-term clients, who often become friends. Others are Network executives. We are a close-knit group with members bringing unique talents to the organization. Eventually your private career will add to that talent base. Meanwhile, as that develops, you have the great power of youth, something that is very highly valued by some clients. Especially as you are of legal age." (In other words, I thought to myself, I could legally suck a man's cock and be fucked up the ass.)

He flipped open his notebook, which I took to be The Network's dossier on me. "You probably realize by now that Daniel, like all of our members, is also a recruiter of new talent. He has given a detailed account of your physical assets. Do you mind if I confirm his assessment by undressing for me? It is the final step before I can make you a formal offer."

Can this be happening, I thought to myself? It seemed unreal, but had to see where it would go. I stood up, took off my new jacket and shirt and neatly laid them on the back of the sofa. Ambose's eyes widened a bit when he realized how well defined my chest and ab muscles were from a summer of hard physical labor. I watched him as i unbuckled my belt and unzipped my fly. His eyes were fixed on my crotch. I slowly slipped out of my pants, surprised at how much I enjoyed doing this strip tease. I was wearing my sheer silk jockeys and my cock was clearly outlined. I heard him mumble, "oh my God."

I turned my back to him and eased my jockeys down over my firm ass cheeks. I knew Ambrose would be impressed...Daniel always complimented me on my smooth ivory-white ass that stood out against the deep summer tan of my back and legs. I bent over to give him a better view. I half expected him to fuck me, thinking that might be part of the deal. I was horny from not jacking off for two days, so I was willing to give him my ass or suck his cock if that's what he wanted. My cock and balls swung free as I dropped my jockeys and turned to face him. To my surprise he was still in his chair and fully dressed.

"Excellent, excellent," he said. "I'll have to scold Daniel for giving an inadequate description," he said with a chuckle. He said I could get dressed and asked if I was agreeable to joining The Network.

"Yes, I am," I heard myself say.

"Wonderful," Ambrose said, handing me a packet which he said contained instructions on setting up a new bank account and getting a safe deposit box for receiving "offers." Once I set them up I was to leave an envelop with the account numbers for Ambrose at the hotel. He promised that I would soon be hearing from MIT.

"Thank your for coming Paul," he said as he firmly shook my hand and led me to the door. Although leaving the grand hotel, I felt I was entering a grand new world. Let me know if you'd like to hear about the exciting adventures soon to come.