“Stop talking about him. You don’t have the right. Neither do the board members.” Evan’s voice trembled as he restrain
ed
his anger. His pain.
“Son…investors have been inquiring. One of our largest investment groups believes that you’ve peaked and that soon you’ll implode based on your lifestyle.
T
hey
know that all you do is work until you can’t find anybody to answer the phone and then you go to the gym. You apparently get about two or three
hours of sleep a night and you are running on coffee and
adrenaline.
You’re
insensitive and distant from your staff, and I’m putting that politely
. Your staff,
who
,
by the way
,
do
have lives you’re keeping them from living. I can’t let this go on. Starting now, you’re on a paid leave of
a
bsence until you
keep twelve Satisfaction appointments, find a lover or buy a personal slave. You could always get married, but I don’t think you’d be able to
f
ind someone you can trust. If you can’t get it together to do any of these things, then you’re going to have to go to counseling until you can.”
Evan stared in disbelief. “You don’t believe in slavery
and I don’t believe in slavery. I’m not going to support it.”
“That’s why I gave you the other two options.”
"
But, Alcoa…”
“Is all done but the
signing. You haven’t started making inquiries about Swissair yet, have you?”
“No, but the time is right….wait any longer and….”
“Evan.
There will always be new opportunities. There won’t always be an Evan James to take advantage of them. I want you around, son. The board wants you around. Even the investors want you around
...
but they want you around healthy and whole. You and I both know you aren’t making any effort to get past your grief. I know you had something really special with Justin; I saw how much you loved each
other. You might not ever get that again
. B
ut you can have something.
Some measure of comfort.
It’s not your fault he died the way he did.”
“Yes, it is. He wanted me to help him die…I should have…he
suffered
…
.
” Evan had to stop there. His fingernails dug deep into the palms of both hands.
“
Son…you had
hope.
You clung to hope. Justin didn’t blame you did he?”
“I can’t talk about this.”
“At some point you have to. Don’t you want to get better?”
E
van swallowed hard. He
didn’t
deserve
to get better.
He had
made Justin suffer unimaginable agony with his selfishness. He hadn’t suffered nearly enough. He couldn’t live long enough to suffer as much as he needed to balance the scales.
“No. I deserve to suffer.”
Allen
's voice grew rough and he wiped his eyes
.
“Son…you can’t go on like this. Go home. I’ve changed the
passwords to your computer and rekeyed your door. You won’t be
able to
even
get to your contact list. Give me your phone.” He held his
hand out.
“I didn’t bring it with me.”
“Give me your phone. You never even go to the bathroom without it; I know you have it. Do I need to call security?”
Evan threw his phone too hard on his father’s desk. Allen reached in his middle drawer and handed Evan a brand new phone, still in the box.
“
You need a phone for personal use. Now, go home. Get some
sleep.”
Evan stormed out of his father’s penthouse office without saying a word, clutching the new phone box hard enough to
crush it.
He went straight to his office and tried his keycard. As promised, it no longer worked. Grinding his teeth in frustration he went down the south corridor and entered his spacious, desolately empty apartment.
Justin’s absence still echoed in his head as he passed his dead lover’s grand piano and massive
antique sheet music
library. He headed straight to his bedroom and stripped out of his clothing
,
tossing the ten-thousand dollar suit to the floor
like
soiled coveralls. Sitting on the side of the bed, he picked up the framed picture of Justin taken on their first trip to Belize from the
n
ightstand. He was grinning that special grin he had only for Evan; standing on the beach at sunset
,
board shorts riding low on his slender hips
,
flat muscled chest shining with suntan oil.
Evan held the framed photo close to his chest and shut his eyes, summoning up a sense memory of that day. The heat of
the sun, tempered by the ocean spray, made them both relaxed and lazy. A surge of emotion raged through Evan and he put the picture back on the nightstand, one finger touching the glass gently. Only the cold hard texture of safety glass met his touch instead of velvety sun-warmed skin. Evan shook with sheer frustration. The simple
unfairness
of Justin’s death swept over
him.
Fighting back sobs, Evan lost himself in the memory of making love to Justin; gripping his long sun bleached hair and taking his mouth. Lost in anguish, Evan dropped his right hand and undid the button and zipper on his dress slacks, releasing his throbbing drooling cock. The instant the reality of his erection broke the bubble of his erotic memory, Evan found himself exhausted. Cringing with self-pity, he stroked himself to release, realizing how pathetic he would seem to any objective observer.
Maybe I should send a memo to the board about this,
he thought bitterly.
Cleaning up his mess with his shirt, he undressed and lay back on his empty bed, vainly trying to recall the actual physical sensations of Justin’s touch, his kiss, his mouth and the feel of his tongue caressing his body. Four years had dulled the memory no matter how hard Evan fought to keep it sharp. He continued to lose Justin, over and over again; little bit by little bit. He hated himself more for allowing the memory to drift and ease. This couldn’t be happening. He wouldn’t allow it.
L
oss rose up, clogging Evan’s lungs and heart. He curled up and sobbed as if each mournful cry stabbed him to
the soul. He was alone and he always would be. Nothing could ever even come close to the love and trust he had shared with Justin
,
his first love and his last. They had only had six years. Evan stared down the long, long road of his remaining life and wondered that his Dad truly wanted to extend that lifeline. He could hardly wait to die. He would kill himself, but there was a possibility that if God existed, that act might keep him from being with Justin in the afterlife. He really believed the afterlife didn’t exist
. Surely
no God could have let Justin suffer like that
,
could let
Evan
suffer like this. So there was probably just oblivion. Evan was fine with that, too.
But if there was something…any chance at all, he would endure as long as he could.
Chapter Two
Jeremy Paxton sat in his car across the street from his home and watched
in
shock as IRS agents shackled his family members together and loaded them into a van. He saw two agents looking across the street and spotted the look of recognition on their faces. He couldn’t outrun the IRS. He got out of his car and trudged across the street to meet them.
“What’s going on?” he inquired, although he knew. He
just didn’t think it would happen to his family. Not this quickly, anyway.
“
Unpaid taxes. Unpaid debt.
The IRS purchased the debt in accordance with the Defense of Corporations Act
.
Your family has been forced into state servitude,
pursuant
to U.S.C.
3008
§4950(12)(a). Before I take you into custody, I have to ask you
:
are you willing to be sold to a private individual or company to offset some, or all, of your family’s financial obligation?”
“Sold? As, into slavery?” Jeremy’s mind raced. “What kind? I’m untrained in any kind of manual labor.”
“Untrained individuals are always sold as personal slaves.”
“Uh,
personal
?
You mean sex?
Sex
slave? Do I want to be a sex slave? Hell, no.”
Jeremy took a step back. Then he looked over at his father, who was in poor health, and his mother who was weeping copiously at her humiliation. He looked at his little sister and winced at the thought of
Amy
drudging the rest of her life away, never being a wife or a mother or having the opportunity to choose anything for herself ever again. Neighbors were peering out their windows at the depressed group. The agent drew out handcuffs and reached for Jeremy’s wrists.
“Wait. Uh, how much might I o
ffset the debt? When would they
go
to the work farm?”
The agent looked at him appraisingly
with
something like approval on his face.
“They won’t be transported until the amount of money you bring is determined. Currently the debt level would mean that you all would have to work a total of thirty years apiece to abate it. You look like you would bring a pretty good price. How tall are you anyway? Six
-
five? Six
-
six? You look to be in pretty good shape too. And I have to say, you’re real easy on the eyes. It might be possible to buy your sister or your mother free, at least.”
Jeremy considered that, ignoring the agent’s openly admiring gaze. If he could spare his sister…”What do I n
eed to do? To be sold, I mean.”
The agent waved his hand at the van dri
ver, indicating they could go.
“Wait! Can’t I even say good-bye?” Jeremy stared lo
ngingly as the van pulled away.
“No. They know what you’d say. You can ask your new master to let you have contact and he can initiate it if he wants. You could even have regular visits, if you’re bought locally. Go inside and pack a bag with wh
at you’ll need for a week-end.”
Jeremy thought about the personal slaves he had seen. His father had taught him that the current belief that slaves were a subspecies of humanity rested on no proven scientific basis. They didn’t have slaves in the Paxton household. Most of his friends had them, though.
He shuddered slightly.
From what he could tell, they were treated like pets, or like tools. And that was under the best of circumstances. He had been offered the use of most of his friend’s slaves, but that had always seemed too weird for him.
He saw no personality in any of them. They knelt, quietly and perfectly still until asked to perform some sex act, which they did, promptly, with skill, but no enthusiasm or reaction. Jeremy never got the feeling that his friends had any real affection for their slaves. He tried to picture himself like that, but he couldn’t.
“What happens if I’m sold and my new master is dissatisfied?”
“
Depends on the master. He might punish you until you learn to
please him, or resell you to another master or to a house of pleasure.”
J
eremy hung his head. If he wanted any kind of life at all, he’d better be pleasing he guessed. He didn’t have a clue how to do that. He wasn’t a virgin or anything, but he had only had one serious
girlfriend
…? W
ait a minute
.