The Brownstone: Michael

A light knocking on the door the next morning woke me from my sleep. The king sized bed I was sleeping in was far more comfortable than the single at the Y or even my too short bed in the dorm.

The last thing that Charles requested of me before he departed from the limo was that I not cum again until we saw each other. At first I didn't know if that was possible. My libido was in constant overdrive and I was accustomed to a daily routine of casting off loads 3-4 times a day. I woke up with my hand wrapped around my cock but quickly stopped myself. I didn't want to disappoint Charles and decided try my hardest to do as he requested.

The knocking persisted forcing me to get up. My cock was rock hard and screaming for release and it took everything I had to answer the door.

Cracking the door slightly I saw an attractive woman patiently waiting for me . "Mr. Layton?" She inquired, knowing full well who I was.

"Yes?"

"My employer sent me by to get you and take you about town today." Her voice was tinged with an English accent. "I am his personal assistant." She added. Finally realizing that she woke me up she recommended I meet her in hotel restaurant as soon as I could get ready, as we had a busy day ahead of us, and she would go over my schedule for the day.

Thirty minutes later I was listening to Ms. Penelope Wilson as she rattled on about my day while I ate an egg white omelet with fruit and whole wheat toast that had been pre-ordered and placed in front of me. 'Mr. C', as she referred to Charles had been very specific about my schedule for the day. The morning had been earmarked for getting new clothes and a proper shave and haircut. I didn't really understand why I needed another shave after all I had just shaved with a brand new .25 cent Bic razor in my room - I thought it did a decent enough job. Not wanting to appear rude I just continued to listen as Ms. Wilson droned on. I would have a late lunch before I would be shuttled to Mr. Charles' private club for a massage and steam. A car would pick me up at 6:30 pm to make a 7pm dinner reservation with Mr. C and his guests. Proper dress was required.

For the briefest moment I wondered if I was still asleep and this was all a dream. But it wasn't, and I realized that even though there was a part of me that looked forward to everything that Ms. Wilson was mapping out for me, there was something was about the whole thing that was nagging at me. It all seemed so planned, so regimented. Maybe it was because I had never been exposed to this type of life before. So far in my life the only expectations anyone ever had of me were to play a decent game of ball and get good grades in school.

Or maybe because suddenly this whole process was making me feel like I was being prostituted. I disliked that someone was paying for the room I was sleeping in, choosing the food I was eating and deciding on the clothes that I was 'expected' to wear. I felt like all of this was taking away any options I would have about continuing exploring something with Charles. I was beginning to believe that if I accepted all of these things it would be expected of me to have sex – in essence to perform. I did want Charles, he was probably the most exciting person I had ever met and just thinking about him made my cock hard...I just wasn't sure it was under these circumstances.

Ms. Wilson didn't appear to be uncomfortable dealing with me – like this was something she did every day. Was Charles that type of man that found unsuspecting men like me and did this on a regular basis? Did he have a stable of Iowa farm boys at his beck and call? Last night he made it seem like he had been looking for me for a long time.

Ms. Wilson accompanied me to Barneys where I stripped down to my underwear and spent the bulk of the morning being fitted with a pre-selected wardrobe of clothing. Chosen for me were two suits, one navy blue and one dark grey, 4 dress shirts that were tailored to fit me like a glove. In addition Charles included some additional casual clothing 'to be worn for off business times' as Ms. Wilson put it, as well as shoes, socks and new undergarments. In all my life I had never had so many clothes.

As if Barney's wasn't overwhelming enough, without taking a breath, we moved to our next stop – Renaldo's. Ms. Wilson left me at the door to the 'salon' with instructions that I was to meet her back at the hotel when I was done. The limo was at my avail and after handing me the phone number to reach the limo driver she departed.

Renaldo was Charles's personal barber or stylist as he called himself. He was the most unique and gregarious person I had ever met in my life. The salon was located off 5th Avenue in a converted basement space of the building that had a mixture of businesses and apartments. The large windowless one room shop was not excessively decorated, but what it lacked in decor Renaldo made up in his outgoing personality. The main focal point to the room was a large barber chair that I later found out converted into a table with the flip of several switches and sat in the center of the room. To left side of the room there was a small neatly appointed kitchenette and bar. Opposite that, on the right side of the room was a full large bathroom combination changing room area complete with a shower and jetted tub.

Renaldo was a story onto himself. He was the first openly gay man I had ever met. He was oddly good-looking, in a taller Al Pacino type of way and spoke with such a thick Italian accent I could barely understand him. Charged with way too much energy and perpetually happy, the glass was always half full for him,he expected everyone around him to be as happy as he was.

For the first five minutes he ran his hands through my hair, not saying a word, just getting the feel for my hair and what style would suit me best. When he was done he told me to go take a shower, use the shampoo that was there, and return to him. The caveat to the shower being that when I was done I wasn't to put my clothes back on again. My eyes had to be the size of Nebraska – why did this man want me naked? What was he going to do to me? Giving me a stern look he sent me on my way. Once again I was baffled by orders being given to me. I was starting to find that this weekend away was both challenging and intriguing.

The shower was warm and soothing and for a few moments I was able to let everything go and relax. An ultra-soft towel waited for me when I was done which I wrapped around my waist before returning to the salon. Renaldo sat patiently waiting for me on a stool next to his barber chair. "Ah... good" he said with his strong Italian accent when I returned. He guided me to the chair and without hesitation flipped a lever so the chair went from an upright position to laying flat on my back. He told me he was going to shave me and that it was very important that I remain relaxed. My breath hitched momentarily when I finally realized what he was about to do to me. He peeled the towel away and looked over my body. A sharp whistle seared through his gaped front teeth as he slapped his hand against his cheek and exclaimed "Momma Mia!" over and over again. "You be da Rodin, you be a perfection. I have never a seen such beauty."

Instinctively my hands moved to cover myself. "No...no...no... you must not a to cover yourself, you must to be a proud of yourself." I let my hands drop slowly earning an ear-to-ear smile from Renaldo. "Si...Si...Si..." he whispered.

"Now we to begin a." He said. For the next two hours Renaldo meticulously groomed my body. He applied hot towels to my face then using a straight barber's razor gave me the closest shave I had ever had. When he was done he applied a cleansing peel to my face. It took me awhile to get used to his accent but I was finally able to gather that I didn't take proper care of my skin and had badly clogged pores and that from now on I was to only use his products. He told me a beautiful face like mine will get me far in the business world.

My mind drifted to Charles and realized that maybe Renaldo did know what he was talking about.

Then he pulled out the wax.

I had heard about some jocks that waxed their bodies, especially runners who felt it gave them an added advantage, but I had never entertained the thought. "Mister Charles he a like a little hair, but not a too much a. Please no a worry I be a very gentle, you a very a special man and I a make you molto bello."

No matter how gentle someone is waxing is still an unpleasant experience! He told me that hair around the nipples was no good. So with a slather, zip and rip it was gone. He left my happy trail telling me it was just too sexy to remove. Then he moved down to my cock and balls. Renaldo was a pro and told me I had nothing to worry about. He spread my legs, positioning them in stirrups on the side of the table-chair.

Talking to me the whole time, telling me each step he was taking was reassuring to a point. He applied a thin layer of numbing cream to my balls then applied what he explained to be a special wax he had developed. The wax, he further explained, when heated slightly and applied to the more sensitive areas would expand the pores, making it easier for the hairs to be removed. He also told me that with regular waxing it would eventually cause the hair to grow more slowly and definitely more finely. Before I could let out a few deep breaths the procedure was over and Renaldo was moving me around for the final waxing. My ass!

I wanted to protest, I know my ass was protesting as my puckered hole clenched tightly drawing my ass cheeks together. Renaldo just laughed as he raised and spread me wider in the stirrup rests. Releasing the bottom part of the table chair he positioned my ass so it was resting on the edge. Renaldo rolled the low seated stool between my legs. He seemed pleased that my ass cheeks weren't hairy, but warned me that it is the curse of most men to grow heavy hair in this area. As he spoke he gently spread my cheeks and applied another thin layer of wax from the top of my crack to my balls and all the way to my pucker hole. "You be a virgin, si?" he asked as he waited for the wax to cool. I didn't feel his question warranted an answer, so I let him think what he wanted to as he pulled the strips of cotton down and away from my body. How many other men had Renaldo done this to for Charles?

By 2pm I was done and on my way back to the hotel. My hair was cut to perfection and my tingly, much less hairy body was grateful it was over. Ms. Wilson met me at the limo and we were whisked off to the lunch only because that's what it said to do on her list. As scheduled, after lunch the limo took me to Charles' private club. Like everything that had crossed my path in the last 24 hours Charles club was so upscale it didn't have a public address. A steward greeted me in the lobby and escorted me to a private room where I was instructed once again to remove my clothing, geez people sure liked me with no clothes on, he handed me a towel-wrap that I pulled around my waist and followed him to a common area where several men were sitting about talking.

"The steam room is over there sir" the steward pointed out as we walked around the area. Eerily, every eye in the area was on me. "There is a pool in the next area if you care to take a swim. Food, drinks, alcohol are located here, just ask any steward and they will be more than happy to assist you. When you are ready for your massage just return to your room and you will be taken care of."

Left alone I wondered around the lounge and entered the steam room. The room wasn't like the gymnasium type I was used to school. The eucalyptus scented steam was lush and invigorating. I laid on one of the teak benches and closed my eyes – relaxation was immediate.

"Good afternoon Michael." It was his voice, that soft whispering voice that commanded attention. I sat up and watched Charles entering the room. "How are you feeling today? Are you having a good time" he asked.

"Ye...yes...sir, although I have to admit I didn't care too much for some of the stuff Renaldo did to me." I felt like I let out a little giggle, but men don't giggle, do they?

He let out a hearty laugh and said. "But if you touch yourself now you will feel how good the results are." He stared at me, waiting for me to do as he suggested. Spreading my legs slightly I touched my fingers to my balls and felt their smooth softness – just like Charles' had felt last night. Without hesitation Charles sat next to me and intertwined my fingers with his as we explored my newly waxed areas. My cock immediately went rigid making a tepee tent in my towel. "I look forward to being with you tonight Michael. I hope you do too."

A simple yes passed through my lips as his lips then his tongue glided over mine for the briefest moment. I wanted to reach out and pull him against my body feeling his nakedness against mine. Gawd this man was driving me crazy!

"As much as I would love to stay here with you all afternoon I must go now. I will see you this evening. I have asked my personal valet Peyton to make sure your clothes are laid out and ready for our dinner tonight. "

He stood to leave, hesitated for a moment and turned to me. "Michael, we will be having drinks and dinner at a public restaurant tonight with some very influential people. It is a business meeting and you must behave accordingly. I will be very different with these people than I am when it is just you and me. It is imperative that you learn there are two facets to our relationship. Do I make myself clear?" His voice slipped into this 'all business' commanding tone that sent chills up spine. This is a man I did not want to cross – ever! Without saying another word he turned and left the room...leaving me feeling oddly despondent.

Charles' cold manner snapped me back to reality. There were so many sides to Charles. One minute he was this sexy needy man, then he could change into this man that had to have total control over everything, and now I saw this new side - the business side of him, cold and ruthless. Charles had to be the most exciting man I had ever met but it still boiled down to the fact that I was just a simple 19 year old farm boy from Iowa who had never been exposed to the things that Charles had shown me in the past 12 hours. I was bothered by all the 'rules' that Charles carried with him, that I was being forced to follow. Do this, dress like this, shave this, act like this. He seemed to be molding me into someone he wanted me to be and I wasn't sure I ready for or even wanted this. I couldn't help but wonder why I wasn't good enough, as I was, for him.

I returned to the hotel still confused to find my room had been transformed in the few hours I had been gone. The closet and dresser were filled with the new clothes. An empty and very expensive looking suitcase sat on the luggage rack at the end of the bed. The few pieces of clothing, my school books and toiletries I had come with were neatly packed away in my backpack and stowed in the back of the closest. In the bathroom I found bottle after bottle of personal items from Renaldo's. New shoes sat shined and ready to wear. Sitting on the bed I looked over to the nightstand and found a bottle of lubricant with the seal still intact. Everything was all neat and tidy and thought out ahead of time.

I was a sophomore in college on what I thought was a single minded track. I had a minimum of four or five more years of school before I could reach the goals I had set for myself and I refused to let anything stand in my way to achieving them. Returning to Iowa was not an option and the next few years were the most crucial of my life. I had this nagging feeling deep inside of me, telling me if I went through with this thing with Charles there would be no turning back and there was a strong possibility that I could be throwing every goal I had set for myself away.

Walking around the room looking at all the things that Charles was trying to turn me into, my eyes stopped on the new suit his 'personal valet' had chosen for me to wear. My fingers traced their way across the fabric. I had never felt a material as lush as this before. This suit cost more than my food allotment for the year and was a long way from my $19.99 jeans or the polyester baseball pants I was used to wearing. My eyes drifted over to the white shirt with subtle almost invisible grey stripes running through it. A light yellow power tie was laid over the shirt. Navy blue sock were placed next to a white T-shirt and white silk boxer shorts, just like the ones Charles wore. I picked up the boxers, feeling the luxurious fabric between my fingers and realized that this one pair of boxer shorts probably cost more than my entire current wardrobe. Laying the boxers back on the dresser I found a neatly printed note card from Peyton telling me to call him if I needed assistance getting dressed and to meet Mr. Charles in the lobby promptly at 6:30.

**************************

The clock ticked to 6:00 pm as I looked back at the room. I had changed out of the 'casual wear' Charles had chosen for me back to the jeans I had worn last night. I put the room key on the dresser and let the door slowly click shut, hesitating for the briefest moment before I walked to the elevator. Leaving just seemed to be the only option for me.

The bus back to Boston was mostly empty and I was able to cram in a few hours of studying. It was close to 2am when I finally made it back to the dorm. The dorms were officially closed for the holiday but security was on duty to let me in.

"I hope you don't mind, but your uncle showed up a little while ago, said he missed you at the bus station. I let him into your room" he told me. I bounded up the steps, taking them two at a time and ran to my room. Opening the door my heart almost stopped when I saw Charles casually sitting on my bed.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I choked out, still out of breath from the stairs and nervous by his appearance. Charles gave me a stunned reaction to my outburst but spoke calmly when he finally opened his mouth.

"I came to find out why you left Michael."

I just shook my head in disbelief. "Charles...I ...I...at the time it just felt like the right thing for me to do!" There, I said it.

"Sit down Michael. I want you to tell me everything you are feeling and why you felt you needed to leave" His voice was soft and filled with concern.

"I don't know how to put all of these...feelings...into words Charles." I said finally. He stared at me and waited patiently for me speak again. "I couldn't breathe...everything was moving too fast. You have to understand...I have these goals I set for myself, there are things that I have to do in my life and I was afraid that being with you wouldn't allow me fulfill them."

"Please tell me more, tell me about your goals." He whispered. His body relaxed as he leaned back on the bed giving me his full attention.

The pressures of the day soon disappeared and I found myself remembering how easy it was to talk to him. "Charles, my father was my hero. He was President of the largest bank in Ames. But he died when I when I was just a kid..." I paused for a moment to reflect on the only man I had ever truly admired...well before I met Charles. "After he died my mother and I moved back to her home town to the farm her parents had owned. I hated it. Her parents passed soon after and because of bad investments on their part we lost the farm a few years later. We moved into a one bedroom apartment in town. She had married my father when she was just out of high school and had never worked a day in her life. She had no skills whatsoever to support us. To keep us going she worked as a waitress during the day and cleaned office buildings in the evening just so that we could keep the roof over our heads. When she died suddenly I was a senior in high school and was left with nothing. No family, no heritance – simply nothing. To make matters worse I was forced to live my last six months of high school as a ward of the state. I promised myself I would never live like that again. I left Iowa with the goal of never going back there. The only thing I have in life at this moment is this fucking baseball scholarship, it's the only way I can stay in school and I can't do anything to lose it."