Alex in Wonderland (The Wonderland Series Book 1) (4 page)

6

Home Coming

Memories of that milestone night and the strong friendship it spawned
danced happily in Alex’s mind as he found Jolie in the gazebo and leaned down
to give him a kiss. “I was just thinking about the night we met.”

“Ah, yes,” Jolie chuckled. “When the upright, uptight, uptown rich kid
met Mother Russia.”

“I was so naive,” Alex said, collapsing tiredly into a wicker chair.
The weight of the day’s events was catching up with him.

“Are you saying Tatiana wasn’t convincing?” Jolie demanded, pretending
mock anger. “I thought she was
très magnifique
!”

“Of course she was. Only that accent sounded more like Bela Lugosi in
Dracula
.
Or should I say
Dragula
?”

“Fuck you, dollink!” Jolie chuckled, giving him a playful swat. He
nodded toward a silver tray with a chrome Art Deco shaker, two Rosenthal
stemmed glasses and a small china bowl of olives. Jolie never did anything
halfway. “Thank God you’re finally here. I’ve been absolutely perishing for a
cocktail, but you know I never drink alone.” He filled their glasses, took a
generous sip and sighed. “Mmmm. Sheer nectar!”

Alex took a healthy swig of his own. "Man, do I need this."

Jolie was dying to know why the urgent phone call, but he had promised
Alex “no
questions asked” and
was always a man of his word. Besides, he understood Alex better than anyone
and knew it was only a matter of time before he learned everything. Sure
enough, when Alex started talking it was like the night they met. Two hours and
as many martini pitchers later, Jolie had received a play-by-play description
of all that had gone down in the Sumner household, tonight and in years past. A
good listener, Jolie’s response was to loft his martini high.

“Hallelujah! It’s about fucking time!” He clinked Alex’s glass.
“Congratulations,
bébé.
I’m very
proud of you and, from what you just told me, so is your mother.”

“Thanks. I’m pretty proud of me too but I’m not sure where the hell
this is going. In fact, I haven’t a clue.”

“Well, for one thing you’ve decided not to be railroaded into a
heterosexual marriage built on lies which will surely make everyone wretched,
destroy lives and produce children doomed to divorced parents.” He took a deep
breath and exhaled slowly. “God knows I’ve been-there-done-that.” Because Jolie
rarely mentioned his son William, the product of a very young, very ill-advised
marriage, Alex never fished for more. “Supposedly we’re living in more
enlightened times where a man doesn’t have to marry to hide his true sexuality,
but there are still plenty who get caught in the tragic backwash of family
obligation and all that crap. You have no idea how much heartbreak you’re
saving everyone, even your father, although he’s too stupid to realize it.”

“He sees only what he wants to see,” Alex said, sadness creeping into
his voice. “Always has. Always will.”

“Enough about him!” Jolie said, quick to stem what threatened to dampen
an evening of exciting revelations.
 
“It’s
your
night and you don’t have to make any more major
decisions. Just hang around
Le Garçonnière
a while and unwind. Let’s
see. Tonight’s Friday, so you don’t have to go to work for a couple of days.”

“Are you kidding?” Alex growled. “I’ll never work for that bastard
again!”

Jolie beamed at the determination in this new-and-improved Alex’s
voice. “Alright then. I’ll get on the horn tomorrow morning, not too early mind
you, and rustle up a party for tomorrow night. We need to do something to
celebrate your personal gay independence day.”

“Why wait until then?” Alex beamed, giddy with a surge of good spirits,
his and those of the vodka.
 
“Let’s go to
Lafitte’s for a nightcap.” He winked and added, “Correction. Make that
Lafitte’s-In-Exile.”

“That’s my boy!” Jolie said. “I’ll grab a quick whizz and we’ll be
off.”

Named after Jean Lafitte, the dashing pirate who fought alongside
General Andrew Jackson in the Battle of New Orleans, the two bars occupied
opposite ends of a block of Bourbon Street in the heart of the gay area. The
original, a 1772 French colonial structure at the corner of St. Philip Street,
was the oldest gay bar in America until the 1970s when new owners booted out
the clientele and turned it into a straight piano bar. In playful protest, the
orphaned owners reopened at the other end of the block, installed a campy
memorial flame just inside the door and called themselves Lafitte’s-In-Exile.
It was easily the most popular gay bar in the city, and at eleven on a Friday
night it was jammed.

Alex and Jolie made a strange couple, the short, curly-haired blonde
and the tall bald gentleman twice his age. Both knew there was plenty of
daddy-son speculation, but each had his own agenda as they waded into a crowd
of all ages, shapes, sizes and colors with only their sexuality as a common
denominator. Because the exhilarating interlude with Chandler lingered in his
memory, Alex had honestly not been in a cruising mood when he suggested the
nightcap. It took about two minutes in this room reeking of sweat, sex, and a
soaring testosterone level to change his mind. Specifically it was a slender
guy with a buzz cut and requisite van Dyke beard who changed it for him, simply
by flashing Alex a big smile.

“Check it out, Jolie!”

Jolie didn’t respond, totally lost in a monitor showing rapid-fire
clips from
Mommie Dearest
with Joan hammering Christina while Abba sang
“Mamma Mia.” Alex nudged him and cupped a hand to his ear, shouting over the
din.

“Over in the corner. In the red tee. Check it out.”

“Cute as a button,” Jolie agreed, “but I have someone else in mind for
you.”

Alex was surprised. “Who?”

Jolie nodded in the other direction. “Over there by the eternal flame.
The gent in the navy Polo shirt and jeans. He’s an old friend I’ve always
considered devilishly handsome, and I wish I could personally confirm the rumor
that he’s more than generously endowed. Not that such things are important of
course.”

“Only to those who don’t have them,” Alex laughed.

Jolie rolled his eyes indulgently. “You have a great deal to learn
about the gay world, my boy. Those who are not blessed in that department have
been known to develop other highly coveted talents.” When Alex gave him a blank
look, Jolie shrugged. “Who am I kidding? I don’t believe me either!”

Alex craned his neck to get a better look through the shifting crowd.
After several glimpses, he hit the bull’s eye, a deeply tanned guy in his
mid-thirties, on the chunky side with a thick shock of prematurely gray hair.
His jaw dropped as recognition swept over him.

“Oh my God. It’s Duncan Stone. He and Daddy are in the same krewe!”

“Hardly surprising since he’s from your neck of the woods. Or should I
say your ex-neck of the woods.”

“Shit!”

Alex was tormented by the familiar fear that he would be recognized in
a gay bar, but Jolie read his mind and responded immediately. “Be logical,
bébè.
Duncan’s in no position to point
fingers and incriminate himself. Believe me he’s been a familiar fixture on the
Quarter gay scene for years.”

Alex shook his head, stunned by a glimpse of what he might have become
a decade from now. Duncan was everything Alex’s father wanted him to be.
Married to the perfect Junior Leaguer. Father of two children, a son at Tulane,
a daughter in Sacred Heart. Membership in all the right clubs and carnival
krewes. Season tickets to the opera and a box at the Super Dome. The
magnificent Garden District mansion on First Street.

 
“Here’s another surprise for
you, my pet. Duncan’s one of those uptown chums who first suggested I don some
royal drag and pay a call on the local gentry.

“I’ll be damned!”

“Don’t you want to say hello?”

Alex laughed as he saw Duncan in a different, non-threatening light. “I
do now!”

Because of the fifteen-year age difference, Alex and Duncan had only a
passing acquaintance, but whenever their paths crossed Alex had drooled. His
favorite recollection was when Duncan joined him and his father for a round of
golf at English Turn last summer. The weather had been so murderously hot that
they hit the showers after only six holes, and when Alex glimpsed Duncan in
nothing but a wet towel, he nearly swooned. The guy had a bit of a belly, but
that didn’t bother Alex, and the overall erotic image danced vividly in his
mind as Jolie led him through the noisy, jostling throng.

“Duncan!” Jolie yelled. “Over here!”

Jolie blocked Duncan’s line of vision as he leaned down and kissed him
on both cheeks. Then he shouted something in his ear and stepped aside. As
Duncan recognized Alex, the shock on his face was unforgettable.

“Alex Sumner! I don’t believe it!”

“Believe it!” Alex shouted, grinning as they shook hands before
heartily embracing.

“I’m floored,” Duncan said, turning to Jolie. “I’ve lusted after this
lad for more years than I care to think about. He just about drove me crazy
when we played golf last summer.”

“Really?” Alex was thrilled that Duncan remembered.

“Damned right. I played a terrible game that day because I kept
sneaking peeks at you when your old man wasn’t looking. When I saw you without
your shirt in the locker room I almost lost control!”

“I know,” Alex said.

Duncan roared with laughter. “Was it that obvious?”

“It was to me,” Alex confessed. “And you weren’t the only one who got
excited!”

Duncan beamed. “So
that’s
why you hurried off to the shower?”

“Exactly!”

“Talk about two horny ships passing in the night.” He gave Alex a
hungry look. “How come I’ve never seen you here before?”

“I’ve only been here a couple of times and I was so scared I hid in a
corner.”

“Poor baby.” Duncan pulled Alex close. “You don’t look scared now.”

“I probably should be. After all, I’ve just run away from home.”

Duncan was stunned all over again. “What?!”

“It’s kind of a long story.”

“Not necessarily. Remember I’ve known your father a lot of years, Alex,
and I can pretty much fill in the blanks.”

Alex nodded, relieved. “I guess you could at that.”

He returned Duncan’s smile, amazed at how relaxed he felt, the ease
with which he was talking to an uptown acquaintance in a gay bar. He had always
feared this sort of encounter, but now that it was here he welcomed it. No
doubt because the man involved was Duncan Stone, someone he’d always admired
and now found more attractive than ever. He felt like he could melt in those
dark brown eyes and hungrily speculated about what fun it would be to explore
that big, furry body. His fantasizing stopped when he realized Duncan was
shouting over the music.

 
“I can't hear you!" he
shouted back

“I said let’s go to the upstairs balcony and get away from the smoke
and the noise.”

“Okay.”

“No, wait! On second thought, let’s go back to my house.”

Alex’s eyes widened. “Are you crazy?!”

Duncan grinned. “Not the one uptown. I have a little
pied-à-terre
a couple of blocks over on Dauphine Street.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” Jolie said. To Alex’s surprise, he had managed to hear
every word. “And there’s no place like it on earth. Guaranteed.”

“No whips and chains I hope.”

“Nothing of the sort,” Jolie assured him. “Just something very clever
on Duncan’s part, and you really must see it for yourself.” He looked from one
to the other and grinned at his matchmaking. “What fun! I feel just like Dolly
Levi.”

Alex was dying to go home with Duncan, but he was also a man of strong
loyalties. He smiled at Jolie. “But I’m with you, kid.”

Jolie was genuinely moved and brushed Alex’s cheek with a kiss. “That’s
very sweet,
bébé
, but you needn’t
keep me company. I’ll see you in the morning at breakfast.”

Alex was both thrilled and embarrassed by the implication. “Are you
sure?”

“Absolutely. As a matter of fact why don’t you bring Duncan for
breakfast too? We’ll make it a foursome.”

Alex frowned. “Who’s the fourth?”

“That divine little number in the red tee you ogled earlier. I don’t
know if it’s his pecs or my last vodka, but suddenly he looks yummy. What’s
more, he’s giving
Maman
a steady cruise, so now,
exeunt!
”

Jolie blew kisses in their general direction and was swallowed by the
crowd.

Duncan was still chuckling when he turned back to Alex. “Ready?” he
shouted.

“I've been ready for years!” Alex shouted back.

7

Double
Your
Pleasure

Alex happily followed
Duncan
into the relative quiet of

“Nice little house,” Alex said.

“Nothing like uptown, of course, but I prefer it for a lot of reasons.
You’ll see why.” He looked from one front door to the other. “Hmmm. I’m trying
to decide which half to show you first.”

“What’s the difference?”

“You’ll see.”

Duncan unlocked the right front door and motioned for Alex to follow.
The inside was dark and remained that way, even after Duncan flipped a switch
by the door. A single naked light bulb, 30 watts max, flickered and glowed
overhead, a weak sun in a shadowy solar system. The tightly shuttered room was
completely bare of furniture, as was the next and the next. The fourth room was
recognizable as a bedroom only from a mattress on the floor. A folding chair
and a rickety chest of drawers completed the funky interior design scheme.

“Well, well,” Alex said, trying to make the best of things. “Looks like
you’re really into minimalism.”
 

“It’s more about practicality than esthetics,” Duncan agreed. “Especially
if I bring home somebody with a tendency to ‘borrow’ things.”

“What do you mean?”

“First a kiss, and then I’ll tell!”

Alex was a bit disappointed when Duncan only brushed his lips with a
kiss, but his reaction was instant and intense. He sighed with erotic
anticipation. “Mmmm.”

“Me too, Duncan said, backing off. “I’d better show you the other half
of the house before I’m too busy to find the key.”

More intrigued than ever, Alex followed Duncan back outside and waited
for him to lock the right half of his house and unlock the left. When the
lights went on, he saw that the two sides could not have been more different.

“Like this a little better, eh?” Duncan teased.

“Wow!”

The front parlor could have been a showroom for Restoration Hardware
meets Pottery Barn, a thoroughly masculine retreat with highly lacquered forest
green walls, clubby brown leather furniture and handsome retro lamps. Elegantly
framed prints of prize-winning English livestock mixed with nineteenth century
paintings of Louisiana thoroughbreds, and the coffee table held stacks of
expensive art books and a trio of antique Peruvian
santos.
A silk
Persian oriental rug tied all the colors together. There was more understated
elegance in the dining room, bedrooms, bath and kitchen.

“I don’t get it,” Alex said.

"It’s really very simple,” Duncan said, taking Alex in his arms
and studying the deep gray eyes. “I’m the first to admit I have an enormous
sexual appetite, for men that is, and I bring them here on a pretty regular basis.
Who they are depends on whether they’re taken to the Ritz or the Pits.”

Alex smiled at his deluxe surroundings. “This half being the Ritz of
course.”

“Right. If they’re hungry little hustler types, which I really don’t
care for that much but confess to occasionally indulging, I take them next door
where there’s nothing to steal.” He brushed Alex’s lips with another kiss. “On
the other hand, if they’re gentlemen of quality and breeding, such as yourself,
I bring them here. It’s really just a matter of economics. I only needed to get
ripped off once to realize how to solve the problem once and for all.”

“Jolie was right. This is amazing.”

“So’s this,” Duncan said, unbuttoning Alex’s shirt and ogling his bare
chest. "Just as tantalizing as I remember."

“Same here.” Alex returned the gesture and remembered what he’d dreamed
about since last summer. "Damn, this is nice!”

Duncan nuzzled Alex’s neck with a stubbly chin, making him tremble with
the rough sensation. “Let’s go to bed, huh?”

“Oh, yeah!”

They left a trail of clothing from one end of the shotgun to the other
before climbing into
Duncan’s four-poster bed. When Alex was with a man for the first time,
he liked to explore slowly, but Duncan was in a hurry.

“Come here, babe.”

Alex lay back, closing his eyes and floating with the moment as Duncan
worked his manly magic. He couldn’t believe the man giving him such incredible
pleasure joy was his father's old golfing buddy or that he was actually living
out a fantasy for the first time in his life. It was an exhilarating experience
that threatened to spiral out of control and end as quickly as it had begun.

“Easy,” he gasped. “You’re getting me too hot too fast.”

“Is there really such a thing?” Duncan asked. When he noticed Alex’s
sex-flushed face, he knew the guy wasn’t kidding. “Okay then. We'll take things
easy."

As the last of their clothes disappeared, all Alex could think about
was that Jolie's speculation about Duncan's endowment was true, and he was
frankly awed. “Damn, man! That's the stuff dreams are made of."

Duncan smiled. "Then dream on, babe!"

Once he mastered the challenge, Alex got sassy and gave Duncan a
mischievous look. “I was just thinking about Mae West.”

Duncan frowned. “Well, that may the most unromantic thing anyone ever
told me.”
 

“Relax, man. She said, ‘Too much of a good thing is wonderful,’ and now
I know just what she meant.”

“So do I!” Duncan tangled
his fingers in the blonde curls and pulled him up for a kiss. “So do I!”