by Ryan Field
After that, they ordered dinner and talked about Yves. Marco was curious about him. He seemed so strong and capable, yet there was something missing. A nice-looking young man his age should have been concentrating on his own career instead of following Marco around. He should have been with his own friends, working on his own life, instead of sitting in a dark restaurant with an aging male model who was already in a monogamous relationship with another man.
Yves gave all his questions with quick, simple answers. Yves looked Marco in the eye and he didn't waver or hesitate once. Marco was amazed at how uncomplicated he was. Yves didn't bother with his family at all, he was still too new in town to have established any real friendships, and he wasn't sure what he wanted to do with his life yet. The poor guy hadn't even rented a real apartment. He was living in a small rundown hotel in the East Village, trying to save up enough money to make the initial down payment on a one-room studio.
Marco admired his tenacity and his courage. The more Yves talked, the more Marco liked him. In the strangest way, Marco felt connected to him, as if he'd known him all his life. There were no awkward pauses between sentences and there wasn't a single lull in conversation. The two hours they spent talking went by so fast Marco couldn't believe he'd finished his meal and it was time to leave.
On the way out to the car, Marco insisted on dropping Yves off at his hotel in the East Village. Yves protested at first, but Marco wouldn't take no for an answer. When the driver pulled up to the front of the hotel and Marco saw the broken neon sign out front and a group of rough-looking vagrants lurking near the entrance, he took a quick breath and sighed.
"Look,” Marco said. “Why don't you go up and get your things?” He couldn't let him go back to that hotel. “We have a room no one uses. You can stay there and work for me until you figure out what you want to do with your life. Jane Francis has been overworked for years, and I've been thinking about hiring another assistant for a long time."
Yves frowned. “I couldn't,” he said. “I'd feel as if I'm taking advantage of you. I really didn't come back to see you tonight looking for handouts of any kind. I'm sure there are already enough people who only want to take advantage of you. I don't want to be one of them."
"But don't you see?” Marco said. “This is why I need you so much. You're right. There are too many people looking to take advantage of me. I need you around for that reason. You're not taking advantage of me. I'm taking advantage of you.” Marco had always believed it was important to help other gay men when they had no one else around, especially young gay men like Yves who were struggling so hard to make it on their own.
"You're sure about this?” Yves said.
"I'm sure,” Marco said. “Now go up and get your things. I'll wait here."
Yves was back in the car in less than fifteen minutes. He didn't have much. Everything he owned in the world fit into two medium-sized canvas suitcases. When the car pulled up to Marco's penthouse at One Beekman Place and dropped them off, Marco led him up to the penthouse and told him to be quiet. Marco said Jane Francis was probably already in bed and he didn't want to wake her. Her room was on the other side of the penthouse, near the kitchen, but she was a light sleeper. Marco said there were other guest rooms in the penthouse, but he and Frazier had out-of-town guests all the time and he had to keep them free.
So he brought Yves to a small room off the master bedroom that had a daybed and two small French tables with green marble tops. There was a flat-screen TV mounted on the wall across from the bed, and a desk with a stack of books.
"I know it's small,” Marco said. “But it's all I have right now. And it's probably better because you'll be closer to my office. I use the library as an office and it's next door to this room."
Yves put his bags down next to the daybed and smiled. “Oh, Mr. Denny,” he said. “This is perfect. It's not too small at all. I think it's wonderful. It's the nicest room I've ever seen."
"Enough with that Mr. Denny nonsense,” Marco said. “Call me Marco. I like things to be informal when I'm working closely with people."
"Yes,” Yves said. “Marco."
"I'll let you get settled,” Marco said. “I'm tired. I'm going to read a little and then go to bed.” On his way out of the room, he turned back and said, “Just two things you should know."
"What's that?"
"I sleep late,” Marco said, “So no phone calls or anything before ten. And we'll have to share the bathroom for now. This room used to be a dressing room, but I decided to turn it into a small lounge with a daybed. The bathroom adjoins the master bedroom. There are two doors, so always knock first."
"Yes,” Yves said. “No disruptions before ten, and always knock on the bathroom door."
Marco smiled. “I'll see you in the morning. Have a good night.” He liked the way Yves caught on so fast. He had a feeling this was going to work out very well, indeed.
But there was one problem Marco hadn't considered. Twenty minutes later, while Marco was sitting on a white damask sofa reading a biography about his favorite interior designer, Billy Baldwin, he nodded off to sleep. Fifteen minutes after that, he was roused by sounds coming from the bathroom. Evidently, Yves had decided to take a shower. The sofa where Marco was sleeping faced a wall of mirrors that reflected the bathroom door, and both bathroom doors were open. In the mirrors, Marco could see right through the length of the bathroom and into Yves's little room. But Yves couldn't see him.
By the time Marco opened his eyes and looked into the mirrors, Yves had already removed all his clothes. Marco closed his eyes and squinted. Yves was ambling around the bathroom stark naked, assuming Marco was sleeping. Marco didn't move; he didn't want to embarrass Yves. From where Marco was sitting, he could see everything Yves was doing, and he could see right into the shower. It was a large open shower without doors, and the bathroom lights were bright.
Yves adjusted the water to the right temperature, with his back to Marco. Marco felt guilty, but he didn't stop squinting. He couldn't take his eyes off Yves's solid round ass and his strong muscular shoulders. He had athletic legs that bowed slightly at the knee. The loose clothes he'd been wearing hadn't done him a bit of justice. Marco hadn't seen such a naturally defined body on another man in years, and he'd seen plenty of male models in their underwear. Yves's olive skin was smooth, with just the right amount of body hair on his legs and arms.
When Yves stepped into the shower and turned all the way around, Marco grabbed the sofa cushion with both hands. Yves's chest muscles were round and just as defined as his back muscles. His biceps popped when he reached for the soap. When he spread his legs to wash between them, Marco almost fell off the sofa and gasped out loud. Yves had those two pronounced loin muscles on both sides of his groin that a lot of men didn't have. They pointed down toward his genitals and led to a long, thick penis that resembled one of those smooth, meaty German sausages.
Marco felt like a dirty old man. He'd never cheated on Frazier in his life and he'd never been a voyeur. If anything, he was more of an exhibitionist. But this show was too damn good not to watch.
Yves took a long shower—he took an extra long time to wash between his legs. He was so thorough with his genitals that he actually lifted his soapy penis with one hand and rubbed soap all over his testicles with the other for at least five minutes.
When it was time to rinse the soap off, he sprayed every inch of his body until it was slick and clear. Then he stepped out of the shower and reached for a bath towel. He rubbed his dark brown hair until it stopped dripping. He wrapped the edge of the towel around his genitals and squeezed and pulled to make sure they were completely dry. After that, he wiped the rest of his body down, including the bottoms of his feet. When Marco thought he was finally finished with the towel, he wiped the inside of the shower and polished the fixtures.
Then he went down on his hands and knees and wiped up the bathroom floor. He spread his legs, arched his back, and wiped with long slow strokes. Marco was amazed. Most guys
his age wouldn't have bothered to wipe anything but their own bodies. They would have tossed the damp towel on the bathroom floor and gone to bed without thinking twice. He was also amazed there wasn't any hair on Yves's ass. Marco wondered whether or not he shaved there.
When the floor was dry, Yves stood up and hung the towel over a bar to dry. But instead of turning off the light and going back to his little room, he crossed toward the master bedroom and knocked on the door frame.
"Marco,” he said. “I hope I didn't bother you. I just really needed a shower. I saw you in the mirror while I was drying myself."
Marco adjusted his body and sat up on the sofa. He faced Yves and forced himself to focus on Yves's face and not his crotch. “I'm fine. You didn't bother me.” He wondered if Yves knew he'd been watching him in the shower.
"I hope you don't mind that I didn't close the door,” Yves said. “I didn't want to be rude or anything. I walk around in the nude all the time, and sometimes I forget it might make other people uncomfortable. I hope I didn't offend you."
If Marco had been the type to cheat on his partner, this would have been the perfect opportunity. All he had to do was walk over to where Yves was standing and get down on his knees. Marco had been sucking the same dick for fifteen years, and he had to admit he'd thought about other men from time to time.
But Marco wasn't a cheater. There was no one else in the world he wanted as much as his own partner. He smiled and said. “Just try not to walk around naked in front of Jane Francis. I don't mind. We're gay and we're both guys. But Jane Francis wouldn't approve, trust me.” He almost laughed when he mentioned Jane Francis. If she'd seen the hunk of flesh hanging between Yves's legs he was seeing, she would have passed out cold. “And I hope you don't think I'm being rude if I close both doors when I'm in the bathroom,” he said. “Bathroom time is private time for me."
"No problem,” Yves said. “Goodnight, and thank you once again."
"I'll see you in the morning,” Marco said. “I'm working on a special project and I have a lot of work for you."
Yves nodded and smiled. Before he turned to go back to his room, he reached down and scratched his testicles. His hand moved fast and it looked innocent and natural. But Marco thought he noticed Yves's penis move. It jerked slightly, as if he was getting an erection right there in the doorway.
Yves must have noticed the surprised look on Marco's face. “I'd better get out of here,” he said. “You're so handsome and so sexy I might get too excited.” He looked down at his dick and smiled.
Marco laughed, loving the flattery from such a young man. He hadn't been mistaken. Yves's flaccid penis had turned into a semi-erection and it was rising by the moment. “You're right,” Marco said. “You'd better get out of here. Now go to bed and be a good boy?” He wanted to laugh this off fast, so there would be no awkward moments the next day.
"You're very devoted to Frazier,” Yves said, covering his dick with the palm of his hand.
"Yes, I am. I haven't been with anyone else since the day I met Frazier. I know that sounds old fashioned, but I know who I am."
Yves smiled and nodded as if he knew for certain nothing was going to happen between them. “It's not old fashioned,” He said. “It's nice.” He stroked his dick and turned. He was fully erect by then. On his way back to the little room, he switched off the bathroom lights and called, “I guess I'll have to take care of this alone."
Marco shook his head and laughed. “I guess you will."
Though nothing had happened between them, this was something he would not mention to Frazier. He figured there was no need to upset Frazier. Situations like this had happened before with other men of all ages, and Marco knew they'd happen again. As long as Marco was in control and he didn't act upon them, he had a clear conscience. Marco knew all too well young men like Yves were horny all the time. Yves had not offended him in the least. If anything, he'd paid an aging model a nice compliment. And he was looking forward to working with him, especially now that they both knew where the lines were drawn.
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Chapter Five
Jane Francis was an early riser. She was only in her early sixties, but the older she became the less sleep she seemed to need. She didn't even use an alarm clock. At the first hint of daylight, she'd roll over and climb out of bed to start her day. Her toilette was simple. The first thing she did was plug in her curling iron. Then she put on a vinyl cap and took a three-minute shower. After that, she brushed her teeth and rinsed with watered-down hydrogen peroxide. She spruced up her hair last. She went to a little hair salon on the lower east side every Thursday for a wash, a brick set, and a comb out. She'd been going to the same salon since l975 and she always had her mousy brown hair done the same way. All she had to do was fix a few flattened curls with the iron and spray them until they were slick and firm again. When her hair was done, she'd put on some red lipstick and a small pair of pearl earrings and she was ready to go anywhere.
Jane Francis had this down to a science. She even laid one of her simple cotton dresses out every night before she went to bed. The entire routine took less than twenty minutes. It was a good thing she wasn't one of those vain woman who spent hours in the bathroom, primping and prodding. Taking care of Marco Denny and Frazier North was like having two full-time jobs and there wasn't a moment to waste. They depended on her for everything, from arranging their appointments to keeping their home organized.
Then Yves moved into the penthouse and things changed. The first morning he was there Jane Francis walked into the kitchen to start the coffee machine and found him rummaging through the pantry in her kitchen (it was her territory; she did most of the cooking). At first she was petrified. Yves's back was toward her and she gasped.
"I'm calling the cops,” she shouted and made a fist.
"No, don't.” Yves turned fast and lifted his arms in surrender. “It's only me. Yves."
It was the young man who'd told the sob story the night before in Marco's dressing room. He was fully dressed in a black T-shirt, a pair of baggy jeans that hung low on his slim hips, and heavy black boots. His long brown hair was slightly damp and his face smooth and clean. He must have just shaved; there was a faint musky aroma of men's shaving cream.
"What are you doing here?” Jane Francis asked.
"Marco and I went for a bite to eat last night,” he said, “and he offered me a job as his assistant. I'm sleeping in the little room off the master bedroom."
"Assistant?” She put her hands on her hips and frowned. As far as she knew, she was Marco's assistant.
"Marco said he'd been thinking about hiring someone for a while, because you're so overworked,” Yves said. “I hope you're not upset. I'm only here to help out and to make your life easier."
Jane Francis took a deep breath and sighed. “I'm not upset,” she said. “But it would have been nice if someone had let me know. You scared me half to death.” Actually, she was upset. Though she complained about being overworked, Jane Francis loved her life and her job and she didn't need anyone else horning in on her territory. But Yves was such a nice, polite boy she didn't want to hurt his feelings.
"I'm sorry,” Yves said. “You're right. I should have waited in my room until Marco told you about me. I just didn't want anyone to think I was a slacker who stayed in bed all morning. I'm an early riser. I'm up at the crack of dawn and ready to work."
Jane Francis crossed to the coffee machine and opened the lid. He seemed like a decent kid, but she wanted to set the ground rules. “Let's just get a few things straight,” she said. “This is my kitchen and I take care of things in here. I don't know what Marco has in mind for you, but you'd better just wait until he wakes up to find out.” Then she pointed to the kitchen table. “Now go sit down and I'll make your breakfast. You look like you need a good meal. You're skin and bones."
"Ah well,” Yves said. “I never eat in the morning. I don't eat lunch either. I only eat one meal a day. And I never snack."
"One meal a day?"
He nodded. “I used to be overweight as a kid and I watch everything I eat. I don't want to get fat again. I'd rather be dead than fat."
Jane Francis reached for a bag of expensive coffee beans and started measuring them into the top of the coffee machine. “I think that's just ridiculous,” she said. “You're a young man. You need nutrition. But what do I know?” She never understood why these young people starved themselves to death. She was about twenty pounds heavier than she was told she should have been, and she felt wonderful. She didn't like this starving business. Marco had never dieted a day in his life. Marco had always been able to eat anything he'd wanted to eat without gaining a pound. “Will you at least have a cup of coffee?” she asked.
He smiled. “Yes,” he said. “I'd love a cup of coffee, black."
The next few weeks were interesting. Frazier was busy with the new project in Atlanta, so he spent most of his time down there. Marco was still busy with the TV show and he spent most of his time either at the studio or at home. In the beginning, Marco started giving Yves little projects to do. He'd ask him to work on correspondence and he'd send him on errands all over town. At first, Jane Francis didn't mind the arrangement at all. With Yves doing the little things she'd always done, she had more time to focus on details she normally would have put off because she didn't have the time. The leaky faucet in the kitchen sink was finally repaired; all the silk rugs were picked up and sent out to be cleaned. There was even time now for Jane to read a few pages in a book at night.
But as the weeks passed, Jane Francis noticed Yves was taking on more and more responsibility. He started to organize Marco's social appointments and he went out of his way to have interesting meals from exotic restaurants delivered to the house. He was there at Marco's side to cater to Marco's every desire and whim. He did things for Marco Jane Francis would have refused to do based on principle. Marco, Jane knew, could be needy and spoiled, and if someone didn't bring him back to reality he tended to wallow in self indulgence. The more attention Yves gave Marco, the more Marco drifted into his fantasy quasi-royalty world. Jane Francis knew Marco couldn't help the way he was. He'd been accustomed to getting whatever he wanted all his life and he didn't know any better. Thankfully, he was also a decent man. And there had always been people like Jane Francis around to keep him in check.
