A gay story: Surfstruck Surfstruck Ballet
This story is an original composition. All characters are fictional as is their relationship with the places and organizations described. The ballets described are figments of the author’s imagination.. All men engaged in sexual activities are over 18. As usual, character development precedes sex–which is in the last half of the story. Copyright, 2023 BD
Jason’s eyes slowly opened in the dim early morning light. He had a splitting headache, a very dry mouth and a full bladder that had made his cock extremely and painfully hard. He was in bed, a bed he did not recognize, in a room that was also foreign to him. He was also in the heavy arms of a large dark mountain of a young man. Those arms held him in a spoon so tightly that he could feel the deep ridges in the giant’s abs. The man’s beefy thighs had pushed one leg forward and his long heavy pole was nestled comfortably in his sweaty crevice, apparently laying claim to the territory beneath it. The man’s left hand easily cupped his swollen balls while his fingers circled his stiff cock. Where was he? Who was his captor? How had he gotten into such a position–again?
Jason Greene was a dancer with the Houston Ballet–one of the great full-time, professional companies in the United States. He had just celebrated his fifth year (and first as a principal dancer) with a debut in a new piece, set to an orchestrated medley of Beach Boys surfing songs. The ballet had been written by a new California Asian composer and dance instructor. It had been a crowd pleaser and a hit–with lots of gymnastic athleticism: smooth glides, long, high leaps and splits, and eye-popping airborne twists–even a remarkable somersault “dismount” maneuver in the finale. The intricate footwork and moves attempted to duplicate those seen on a real board in heavy surf. The main dancer was thus also a gymnast. The ballet had been performed on a stage with an enormous video projection of real surfing waves–curls, pipes, massive swells on the rear screen. It was an unusual ballet in that it featured men in leading roles; the women dancers were mostly groupies who adorned the beach and through dance conveyed excitement with just a touch of sexual anticipation when their surfer idols came ashore.
Jason was 6 foot “even”, muscled but lithe, with long legs, gymnast thighs, hard pecs, and a deep-concave eight-pack. He had a square jaw, had grown his hair long and blond for the part, but was otherwise shaved, and his tan, augmented by makeup, suggested the dusky complexion of the surfing star of Surfstruck’s Beach. He had only one costume in the ballet–a pair of tight, pale aqua board shorts, made of an stretch material, form-fitting and accommodating the near-violent movements required by the choreography. It was worn deliberately low on his waist, showing off his deeply cut vee. It was fastened provocatively with orange laces, criss-crossing his enormous basket. In fact the entire cast had been costumed in pale shades of skin-tight swim gear, quite scandalous by mid-Texas Bible-belt standards, but accepted by the more liberal Houston crowd which patronized the ballet. Many patrons were elderly widows or gay men, often dragging partners along, to drool over the magnificent bodies of the dancers.
There had been a patrons’ party after, held at the studio which the HB used for rehearsals on Grey, on the east side of River Oaks, not far from the downtown theatre. One would think that an after-ballet premier party for patrons would be sedate, almost quiet. One might also assume that the dancers were exhausted, and the patrons were aged. Almost the exact reverse was true. There was a lively disco–and the dancers, still pumped from the performance, mingled and danced with each other and the patrons until the early hours of the morning. Patrons were there either to gawk (often with feigned disdain, if elderly) or to participate (if gay). Either way, it worked for the Development Director. She would mine this guest list for contributions later. Jason had been treated as the star he was. He danced and drank–quite a bit it seemed. He didn’t think he had hooked. But, now here he was in bed with a stranger–at least he wasn’t an old man, and he was pretty attractive and hung.
Jason wiggled out of the grip of the much larger man, trying not to wake him. But, he needed relief. The man seemed to be waking, but ultimately he rolled aside, released Jason, and was soon deeply asleep again.
Jason used the bath facilities and then re-entered to survey the room. It was a large masculine bedroom outfitted with modern furniture, mostly pale white leather with dark navy walls, contrasted with the eye-popping blue-white of the bedding and a display of monochromatic Blanc de Chine porcelain. They were in the clouds–so obviously in a high rise apartment or condo. Jason, wrapped only in a towel, tiptoed into the stainless kitchen and searched for liquid–at least water, but hopefully coffee. As he tried to decipher the directions to the espresso machine, while gulping ice water, he heard a sound, then a voice. “May I help you?” It wasn’t the giant, but a smaller, thinner and much older Asian man, dressed entirely in black: button up shirt, slacks, and leather shoes. “I am Lee, Mr. Chen’s housekeeper and butler. I presume you are the young man he brought home as a souvenir from the ballet early this morning. He is likely to sleep another hour or more. Let me do the coffee. Would you like anything to eat?”
“Thank you, Mr. Lee.”
“That’s just Lee, not Mr. Lee. I have eggs, sausage, bacon, fruit, toast–really whatever you might like.” Lee was clearly British educated from his accent.
“Just toast and black coffee, please. Oh, and perhaps a few aspirin.”
“I guess you drank a bit last night.”
“I’m afraid so.” Jason sat at the counter. Now at least he knew his host: Henry Chen was the wealthy young Chinese “half-breed” expat (by way of Singapore) who had taken the “haute monde” of Houston society by storm with lavish parties and generous gifts to the ballet, the opera and the symphony companies. No one quite knew the exact source and extent of his wealth (he seemed to have industrial interests all over East Asia) or his actual age–but most guessed he was under 30. No one knew if he had a wife, children–or even his sexual orientation. He had never exposed either to Houston society. He was always solo. Henry was indeed a giant, even by Texas standards, about 6-6, with dark shaggy hair, a wide rounded face, deep almost black (but very Western) eyes, and the physique of a bulked-up Triad street fighter. He wasn’t overweight, but clearly well-muscled, particularly his shoulders and chest, creating the desirable masculine V-shape. In public, he was always seen impeccably dressed in black–suits and shirts, ties, silks, fine wools. But the clothing seemed almost incongruous on such a large man.
“Where are we?”
“You are on the 30th floor of the Rincon Tower, one of the newer condos built on Allen Parkway, next door to the Federal Reserve Bank. This is Mr. Chen’s current Houston residence. We are only a few blocks from the ballet rehearsal facility where the party was held last night. I’m going to get you a robe. I’d rather you didn’t go back to Mr. Chen’s bedroom for your clothes, or you might wake him. I’ve been instructed to invite you to stay until he awakens–unless you have other necessary plans.”
“Actually, after the premier last night, they have given me a day off. So, I’m happy to stay, relax for a bit, get rid of this headache, and meet one of our benefactors.”
Lee left to fetch the robe and Jason began an eye-exploration of the lavish condo–probably a penthouse with high ceilings and lots of glass. He relaxed in the silk robe, sipped several cups of the delicious dark roast and nibbled on some toast. Ballet was demanding–even an extra pound required immediate attention. And no doubt, he had consumed 1000s of alcoholic calories last night. He would need to be careful today.
A few minutes later, Lee returned. “Mr. Chen has a workout room and a massage table in the condo. I’m a licensed therapist. After last night’s performance, would you like to loosen up or have a massage?”
“That would be great, Lee. But, I don’t want to trouble you.”
“Until Mr. Chen arises, I have nothing to do but wait. It’d be my pleasure. It’s through that door. You can shower in there if you’d like.”
Jason walked into the room–larger than most condo gyms, and to the glass-enclosed rain shower. He quickly washed, dried and, as he re-entered the workout room, Lee pointed to the massage table. “Are there any areas on which I should concentrate?”
“I’m really like most ballet members. Our massages focus on feet, calves, thighs, glutes, and lower back.”
“Of course, I understand.”
Jason dropped the towel and climbed onto the table. He immediately began to wonder if Mr. Chen shared his hooks with Lee, but it was too late now. He was naked and stretched out on the table. Lee had donned a white terry butcher’s apron and was ready with the oils. The next half hour was paradise. Lee’s strength far exceeded his stature–and he used his whole body to bring maximum pressure and relief. When he finished, at least below the waist, Jason felt like a wet noodle–and he wasn’t sure he could even rise from the table. At no time, did Jason feel that Lee had intended sexual innuendo or invited anything more.
“Rest here for as long as you like. Either I or Mr. Chen will wake you when he’s ready.”
Jason was confused and perhaps a little shocked. Obviously Mr. Chen had fucked him last night, but he had no recollection of the act (or acts). He knew from earlier this morning that Chen was ridiculously endowed, but he didn’t feel particularly anally violated. Maybe the alcohol had totally relaxed his muscles. Lee had just given him an incredibly erotic massage–but had never touched his genitals or his anus. Now he was waiting until Mr. Chen was “ready.” What exactly did “ready” mean? Was he projecting his own horniness on others? He dozed until about a half hour later, when he was awakened by a deep, commanding voice. It came from a giant who nearly filled the doorway with his height and shoulders. He was naked except for a wrapped towel. His shaggy hair seemed wet. His smile was wide. His body was a statue–of a big Greek hairless god, perhaps Hercules.
“Mr. Greene, welcome to my home. I’m pleased to see that you availed yourself of Lee’s talented hands.”
“I am not sure that you remember what happened last night. I’m guessing you are quite curious. Let me fill you in. I arrived at your victory party–may I call it that?–just after midnight, but you were already quite inebriated. We talked for a bit, but it didn’t seem that you were completely lucid. I asked a few questions, but your answers didn’t seem to make sense. I offered to have my chauffeur take you home, but you slurred something about not being ready to leave or knowing where that was. Then, I realized you were in no condition to be left alone. I was fearful that if you slept–or passed out–on your back and choked, you might suffocate. So I brought you here and placed you in my bed. You rolled onto your back, so I pushed you on your side. You rolled back. So I stripped, got in behind you and drew you into me and kept you on your side. I must say it was torture. You are obviously a choice morsel of manhood–and I’m definitely not an angel–or celibate.” (To Chen, this seemed like a good story and he was sticking to it.)
“We unfortunately did not have intimate relations, I assure you. You are a very handsome young man, and had you been able to consent, I would have most certainly taken you to an earthly heaven. I’m told that I’m quite skilled as a lover and that my magic wand is quite talented at pleasing my partners. If you are willing, we might be able to correct that deficiency later today. I presume that as a top ballet star, you are gay. I regret that I slept in this morning–but I was awake most of the night holding you.”
“I didn’t expect that explanation. Thank you, Mr. Chen. I do regret drinking quite so much. It’s not my customary behavior.” Jason was stunned by the formality of his host and the likelihood that the story was entirely fictional. But, he was intrigued by Chen–and drawn to his magnificent body. So he made no further comment.
“Please, it’s going to be Henry–especially if we are going to spend some time together–in bed or otherwise. Now, I realize the only clothing you have is what you were wearing at the party. Lee has washed the shirt. And of course the black jeans are okay. But, for my purposes, the robe–or even less–is perfectly acceptable attire for the rest of the day–unless you want to go out for lunch. I could have lunch sent in. Any particular cuisine?”
“Yes. In is fine. You will discover that I’m a cheap date–I don’t each much, and mostly vegan supplemented by protein shakes.”
“Lee will have salads brought in. I think we may also have the protein shake ingredients. We’ve got about an hour. Let’s go into my office for a chat. I’d like to know a little about your background and about your family–assuming you are willing to talk.”
The office was, as expected, dark, paneled, and pseudo-English. Heavy oak antique furniture, punctuated with modern touches, was carefully placed around a large red-toned Oriental carpet. A grand Edwardian partners’ desk was the centerpiece. Chen motioned to a Barcelona chair, one of a pair that faced the window–an eastern view of downtown Houston’s skyline (sometimes waggishly referred to as the Emerald City because of the dominance of two green skyscrapers and the frequency with which they were bathed in ethereal humid smog). The sun was high and the city glistened in the humidity. Chen took the other chair, both men still clothed only in towels.
“According to your HB bio, you’re 25, from Illinois, a graduate of Indiana University in fine arts–I presume dance. You also captained the IU gymnastics team which took national honors your junior year. You are considered a dance child prodigy to have reached principal dancer status at only 25. Now tell me a little more. Why dance and not professional gymnastics? Is the bio fact or has some publicist made up your past?”
“Most of my life has been accidental–or serendipitous. Dad died of cancer when I was 13–that may have been fortuitous. He was a rigid homophobe and hated dance–particularly boys dancing. We weren’t close. I’m sure I was a disappointment to him. I started tumbling when I was only 3 and loved it. Our home was a mini-gym. So he let me continue with a focus on gymnastics and an often-spoken ideal of Olympic competition. Dad could handle that, if not a dance career. Professional coaches were hired. He suspected my dance ambitions and pretty much abandoned me as his son.”
“After his death, Mom permitted me to give dance a real try. She totally supported my ambition to be a great gymnast or a dancer–or perhaps both. I have no sibs so she doted on me. I am gay. I’ve known since I was 13 or 14. Mom knows. Since I’m with a professional ballet company, most assume that I am. But I don’t broadcast it, and I’m told that my normal demeanor is definitely masculine. Currently, I’m not attached. Currently is the wrong word–I have never been attached. I work at dance 60-70 hours per week and use sex as a relief valve–often solo, but occasionally with a friend. I have no roommate or bestie at present. I’ve been told that my muscle development is perfect to make me a great partner for a lover–but I don’t have one.”
“After the junior year championship at IU, I considered the Olympic route in gymnastics, but the pros told me that I was already too old. Olympic gymnasts typically are competing internationally by 14–and I was already 21, an old man. So I began to concentrate on the dance, emphasizing my athleticism. I’m hoping I can dance for another five years or so and then retire to teaching, choreographing and directing. I’m definitely hooked.”
“I discovered Surfstruck on a trip to LA when the ballet performed there. So it is my baby here in Houston. I can tell you all about it later. The choreographer-composer was at the party. So that’s it for me.”
“All I know about you is rumor, shrouded in mystery. But, clearly you are a gentleman and a Good Samaritan. You have my thanks again.”
“Your life doesn’t sound so accidental to me. I detect a driven and talented young man who knows where he came from and where he is going. I thought Surfstruck was fabulous. And now I couldn’t imagine anyone in the principal role but you. The entire audience was just drooling over your moves–and your body. I thought I was quite fortunate to be talking with you at the party. You were clearly the center of attention. Even if you probably don’t remember a word we spoke to each other.”
“My life is not really such a mystery. Texans love to imagine mysterious backgrounds and even more inscrutable present actions and ulterior motives when they meet an Asian. I am half-Chinese, half-English (my mother–I seem to take after her; it seems she came up with the “Henry”, presumably after the infamous early kings of England). I was raised in Singapore with a few years in an English boarding school. It was there that I learned I liked sleeping with boys. I A-leveled in business at Singapore International University. Father was a giant of a man, an opportunist who flourished just after Mao when the new regime encouraged private enterprise–typically partnerships between the government or the Communist Party and entrepreneur/politicians. They called it capitalist communism. What a joke! It was just institutionalized patronage/bribery. ”
“He was very wise and very suspicious of new regimes and crackdowns on private ventures–even while he was contributing generously to the lifestyles of those in political power. So he diversified throughout Asia and transferred ownership of almost everything he could to trusts in Singapore, as soon as he could. He moved to Singapore and married my mother. But, he had to spend most of his time in China building the businesses. Years later, the guillotine fell and he disappeared. We never knew what happened to him. He just disappeared. I was stunned. A Chinese boy is taught to serve his mother for her entire life, but to worship his father in life and in death.”
“I was only 22, but he had named me as his sole heir or successor–to take effect on his death or disappearance–with responsibility for my mother, who unfortunately died of a broken heart within a year of Father’s disappearance. He had carefully chosen managers for the businesses and had moved most of the profits to financial investments in real estate, held by private banks in Singapore. So, I was able to move slowly into leadership.”
“A few years ago, I moved here to Houston although I keep a place in Singapore. I find Houston is more tolerant of my lifestyle–and being an international city, I can pretty much run the entire show from here. The climate is very similar to Singapore. I considered LA, but Asians are common in LA and, because of the ghettos and triads, often suspect there. I’m 28, but like to think that I’ve lived many more than 28 years, many in the last six. You tend to grow up fast when you lose your parents–and they leave you an empire to run.”
“And I like athletic young talented boys–just like you. I’m looking forward to our day–and maybe more. If that pleases you, of course. I think lunch must be ready. Let’s see what Lee has done for us.”
**********
After the light lunch, Henry suggested that it was time for a little playtime. “Is this something you want to try? Just because I tended to you last night doesn’t mean that you owe me anything. And don’t worry about my support of the Houston Ballet if you’d rather not. My commitment is a five year one, and we are only in year two. So I’m not buying you either. The decision is completely yours. It would please me to see you naked and sober and to hold you in my bed–but this time with your consent and participation!”
“I appreciate how honest you are about all of this. You are a very persuasive man, Mr. Chen. I can’t think of a better way to spend the rest of my day off than in your bed with you. Just remember, I do need to dance tomorrow–and I’ve seen what hangs between your legs.”
“Oh, I think you’re going to dance this afternoon–with an audience of just one.” Henry walked over to the big comfortable chair in his bedroom, dropped his robe to the floor and beckoned Jason into his arms. “Let’s start with a lap dance. I bet you’re pretty good at it! I’ve had the best in Bangkok so I’m a good critic. Incidentally, don’t mind my size. My good friends have nicknamed me the Gentle Giant. I know how to prepare my partners and I won’t hurt you any more than you want to be hurt.”
Jason loosed the tie of his robe and it dropped from his shoulders to the floor. Jason was erect–and his taut muscular body was duplicated in his cock–it was large, thick and stood upright rigidly. Henry’s eyes widened as he smiled, “You are absolutely beautiful. Your erection does you proud.”
Jason walked over and lowered himself into Henry’s lap. They went chest to chest as Jason worked Henry’s cock into his crevice and worked his own into Henry’s abs. Then Jason spun around and leaning back into Henry, settled Henry’s dick into his crevice and began a complex series of leg exercises that caused his ass muscles to massage and squeeze Henry’s cock to total hardness and readiness.
He turned again and wrapping his legs around Henry’s shoulders, dropped his back toward the floor, presenting his ass for inspection and lubrication. Henry was happy to oblige. That ass had been sculpted by a master. Only the thinnest layer of fat covered the well-developed muscles. There were deep indentations outlining the hard muscles, providing excellent hand-holds. He grabbed a tube, anointed his long big fingers and began to penetrate. After three and the pinky were sawing in and out, he lubed himself. Jason dropped his legs and wrapped his arms around Henry’s neck, giving him leverage to begin the descent on the impressive vertical phallus which Henry had miraculously wrapped in a colorful ribbed magnum. The shaft was huge–maybe 9 inches and thick so the going was slow. Before long, Jason felt his smooth shaved ass resting on Henry’s hot sacs. Then it was time to bounce and writhe. He was totally filled and the pressure on his prostate was a constant–requiring only minimal movement for intense stimulation. Henry smiled his pleasure. He was holding a full-sized carousel stud with an erect dick on his rigid pole. The up/down motion was sublime. Dancers and gymnasts do make the best partners.
Henry wanted to take over the exercise. So he stood, easily holding Jason in place around his waist with his strength and enormous hands. He stepped to the bed and carefully placed Jason at the edge, pushing his legs up into a scissor with his powerful arms. Jason’s calves rested on his powerful shoulders. From this position, he began a slow stroking. Both guys were near. Henry bent over, took Jason’s lips in his own, stretched his own legs straight, and strained for maximum depth. Then he released, tensing his legs and his abs over and over again as he shot successive volleys into the magnum. Jason, feeling the pulses, was himself thrown over the edge, and he erupted and covered their chests with his own creamy little dancers.
Both guys spoke together, using the same words, “That was very nice for a first try.” Henry added, “That was the most athletic lap dance I’ve ever experienced. You could charge big time for that. That is if I ever let you try in Bangkok.” Then they laughed as Henry rose, dropped on his back onto the bed and pulled Jason on top, resting his hands possessively on Jason’s tight, muscled ass. Jason rested his head on the massive pecs and before long he was teasing them with tongue and lips.
“Tell me about your life here in Houston.”
“Sure. I’ve got a townhouse just off Montrose that I rent with three other dancers. It’s only a couple of miles from here. We each have a bedroom and bath and share the cooking and entertaining areas. It’s pretty new and very nice–although we don’t have much furniture. Having roommates is okay–particularly since with rehearsals, gym time, and performances, I’m away most of the time. We have approximately the same schedule; so we often we travel together–using ubers since none of us has a car; but there isn’t much privacy–in the sense that we all know when someone has a guest or is away–and the walls are thin and not soundproofed. HB pays okay, but very few get rich from dancing. I’m still paying on student loans and, for dancers, med co-pays can be pretty substantial. I have enough, but I’m not rich, and I’m not saving much.”
“That’s pretty much as I expected. What would you think if I invited you to stay here with me for awhile. I’d like your company–and you are definitely eye candy. I’m not asking for exclusivity–or even that you sleep in this bed. I’m also not talking about a long term commitment, but I would like to have a live-in companion–with benefits. You would be perfect. Let’s call it a two week hook. If you agree, we’ll drive over to your place now and get some of your things. I’ll be here in Houston for the next two weeks before a long business trip. That should be enough time to see how and if we click together. Or you could leave at any time.”
“That’s certainly sudden. Now I see why you’re the CEO–decisive and quick. Let’s try another round before we leave this nice warm bed. You need to convince me, Henry. Do your magic best!”
“My thoughts exactly.” With those words, Henry easily lifted Jason and placed him on his stomach. He knelt behind him and pulled up on Jason’s hips and slipped several bolsters under to position the delicious ass at the right height. Henry bent in and started to explore with his long hard tongue. Jason spread his thighs in welcome and Henry pushed farther. Then it was lube again, another magnum–red again (it must be Henry’s favorite color), and Henry was again knocking at the doors of paradise. He began a long, slow penetration and a slow arousal. Then he reached around Jason’s chest, pulled him back into his lap, and began to stroke the shaft and cup the balls. Jason was not small. In fact, Henry guessed that, aroused, he might be about the same size as Henry. Jason was definitely a grower. Henry’s large hand could barely reach around the shaft and it covered only about half the length. And Henry loved the uncut hood which he played with like a child with a new toy–a big live pet. Now he could imagine what filled that dance cup when Jason leapt across the stage nearly nude. From now on, Jason would be dancing especially for him.
He started stroking again, waking from his daydream. Suddenly, Henry felt Jason’s anal contractions and realized that Jason was drawing in his abs. Dancers had such deliberate muscular control. He raised one arm to the tendons in Jason’s long dancer’s neck and began to exert a bit of pressure to suppress Jason’s breath. Jason gasped and exploded. His passion in bed certainly matched the passionate persona he projected on stage. His ass muscles massaged and squeezed Henry’s cock and momentarily prevented ejaculation. Then he released, and Henry filled the bulb of another big condom. Both guys collapsed onto the bed while Henry relished the slow withdrawal of his cock from his boy’s ass. Both guys relaxed and dozed for a few. Then Henry reached over and kissed Jason deeply, sucking on his lips and invading with his tongue. “Welcome to my home, lover. This is going to be a nice adventure.”
Later they drove to the townhouse and Jason packed a duffel and a suitcase. He left notes for his absent roommates that he was going to be living away for the next two weeks. But, he’d see them at rehearsals, exercise and performances.
“We’re going out to celebrate tonight. I know the restaurant that caters to the Chinese Consulate. You’re going to have some gourmet Beijing-style food. Dress is casual. You’ll find that for me that means no tie. But, you will probably want more than the silk robe.”
*********
And so began a new routine for both guys. They worked hard all day, typically 7 to 7. Three nights per week, Jason danced at the Wortham Center for the Performing Arts–which the ballet shared with Houston Grand Opera and some touring performances. On performance days, Jason began at 1, so Henry quickly adjusted his schedule to spend those mornings in bed with Jason. And four nights a week, they dined together and spent hours talking about backgrounds, expectations, fears and desires, loves and hates. And four nights a week, they had terrific, very physical sex. Jason, as expected, proved very acrobatic and inventive. He could stretch and position his body for maximum pleasure. He was quick to recover and tireless. And, of course, his incredible beauty was endlessly arousing. Henry proved big, strong, and virile–often cumming three times per night. His tenderness certainly belied his tough guy looks. They hadn’t eloped, but this sure felt like a long, hot honeymoon. And they discovered that they genuinely liked each other–even outside of the hot king bed. Henry liked having someone intelligent to talk to–often regaling Jason with stories about business triumphs that he couldn’t share with anyone else, and Jason loved the fact that Henry was cultured and cognizant of trends in modern art, music and dance.
Henry was very generous. His chauffeur became Jason’s as well. Henry introduced him to a tailor at NM–and of course paid for significant additions to Jason’s wardrobe. Jason began to wear the stylish metro-sexual clothes of a major artistic figure, although he remained decidedly and conservatively masculine. Harry offered his barber, but Jason reminded him that the long blond hair stayed until after the Surfstruck run. “But he’s Brazilian. He does all hair!” Lee became Jason’s almost daily massage therapist–and a skilled dietician, watching Jason’s diet like his life depended upon it.
Then it became time for Henry to depart for his extended Asian business trip. “You can stay here if you want. Lee and Phil will both be on duty when I’m gone. I guess you realize that Lee has adopted you and Phil adores you.”
“I think I’m going to return to the townhouse during your absence. Sometimes I feel that I’m getting too accustomed to this life. It’s a magic, unreal world for a poor dancer like me. And, I’m beginning to feel a little kept. Frankly, I’m overwhelmed. I need to come back down to earth for a few weeks.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way. Let me assure you, Jason, that I have more money than I could ever spend in three lifetimes. You have made me happier these last two weeks than at any other time in my life. When I return, I’d like to see whether you might like to take the next step in your career. And maybe your next step in your life–with me. Think about it. I will. Meanwhile, we’ll try to Skype often–although I’ll typically be 12 or 13 hours off from your time.”
“This is moving very fast. I’m happy at Houston Ballet. I’m still learning and I love the folks I’m dancing with and learning from. I love performing. It makes me feel really alive. Always striving for more, to be better. I’m not going to give that up. And, I don’t want ever to feel that you bought me my chance or my position–assuming I get even farther. That would destroy my ego. Destroying an artist’s ego is like breaking his arms or his legs. We couldn’t survive the pain and pressure. But, I would be lying if I didn’t admit that I’m growing to really like you. No, to love you. I love having you in my life. Let’s see if we can find a way to make this work for both of us. A cooling off period is definitely warranted. Then, we can reconsider the future.”
“I think one more of those special lap dances might help me to remember how good you are when I’m thousands of miles away. I’ve been tested and I’m clean. If you can say the same, I’d like to try this without those interfering pieces of latex.”
“Let’s do it, tiger. I am clean and I’m yours.” Jason reached up and swung his arms around Henry’s neck, pulling their lips together. “Do you have any favorite music?”
*********
Jason returned to the townhouse the next day–after a long practice. His house mates all teased him about his vacation with a sugar daddy. “He’s not my daddy–he’s only three years older than me. But, in every sense, I feel secure and happy when I’m in his bed. It started as a hook after the Surfstruck party–between strangers. He’s a terrific guy. He’s got a great big dick and a fabulous bod. And I may be in love. At least I’m in lust. But, he’s going to be away on business for awhile. So you’ll be stuck with me again for the next few weeks.” He was silent about Henry’s affluence.
The next three weeks went by quickly. There were daily calls, often including simultaneous masturbation, but they didn’t compare to the personal interactions that he had come to enjoy. Meanwhile, Jason had been cast as one of three principal dancers in a classic revival–a typical Balanchine romantic vehicle where the female leads starred and the males were definitely in secondary roles–there to lift, hold, support the primas, and project masculinity in contrast to the ultra-feminine moves choreographed for the women. Jason had only one pas de deux with a petite Chinese super-star–and the two of them drew five standing ovations and curtain calls at the premier. The critics loved it and even compared “Mr. Greene” to Edward Villella–the definitive muscular interpreter of Balanchine’s choreography–for a man.
The day after the Houston premier of this new ballet, Jason received a message from Henry. He had seen the reviews. He couldn’t wait to see the next performance. He was on his way back to Houston. Would Jason join him for dinner and dessert that night? Jason immediately accepted by return text–reminding Henry that he ate little, but that he was prepared to be the dessert. Henry responded with three smiley faces, the third with its tongue hanging low–and one word: “Yes!”
When the rehearsals ended for the day, Jason left from the studio. The familiar limo was waiting. Fortunately, Jason was alone. So he got in. “Is Mr. Chen expecting me now or do we have time to circle by my townhouse so I can change?”
“He arrived about two hours ago. He’s at the condo. He told me to tell you that dinner was going to be served in the condo tonight at 8. He didn’t know how late you would be in rehearsals. We have nearly an hour before you are expected.” So they drove to the townhouse and Jason showered, changed and packed a few things for the next day–assuming he wouldn’t be returning that night. He arrived at the condo just before 8. Henry greeted him personally at the door and swept him into a tight embrace.
Uncharacteristically, Henry was dressed not in black, but in a vibrantly embroidered yellow silk Chinese robe which fell open as Henry raised his arms in welcome. Jason stood back and stared at Henry. “Wow. That is really something.” Then he slipped his arms into the robe and pulled Henry into his chest.
“Were you talking about me, my cock or this robe? I picked this up in Hong Kong. I was assured that it was an exact duplicate of the robe that the Ming Emperor wore when he entertained his favorite concubine. I thought that might be appropriate. I was told that, when he wore this, he never wore anything under it and was always blessed with an enormous, long-lasting erection and perfect sex. It’s a better aphrodisiac than those silly shark fins or rhino-horn powder.”
“I’m pretty sure you didn’t pick that cock up in Hong Kong. If so, I’m going shopping. And, I’m not sure I like the concubine reference. But I do like the robe. You look very good in imperial yellow. The dragon is perfect. And, of course, he is playing with his balls.”
“I have one for you. It’s laid out on the bed. Slip into it before dinner. We’re going to play roles tonight since I’ve missed your performances for the last three weeks.”
Jason walked into the familiar bedroom and found a deep sea-blue robe–also embroidered with a dragon, but where Henry’s dragon had been black, fierce and sporting long threatening claws holding fiery orbs, Jason’s was white–and appeared to be dancing over the flowing embroidered waves along the hem. And the dragon was juggling the large pearl balls over its head. He stripped and pulled the robe on, carefully looping the three frogs over his chest, realizing that these flowing robes were going to open easily below their chests to permit ready access to their love-making equipment. He wondered if Henry was considering dressing for sex. He definitely dressed for everything else. Or maybe, he would invent a dance just for Henry so that the robe would flow around him.
Jason soon emerged into the great room. Henry’s eyes lit with amusement. “That robe is unique in all the world. It was made for you–using the old techniques–but with appropriate themes for my surfing dancer! Oh, we are going to surf and dance tonight.”
“You seem quite pleased with yourself. I presume your trip was successful.”
“It was indeed. I think I made another few millions. And I did survive another set of strong suggestions from the Chinese government that I spend more time in China. I missed you. But, I have some exciting news for you. Let’s have some dinner and then we can talk….and do whatever might come to mind. I hope you’re not disappointed. I’ve been eating sauced, chopped, stir-fried, exotic food for three weeks. I’ve arranged for a pair of steaks and a Caesar salad.”
“Perfect as always.”
During dinner, Henry talked some about the businesses he had inherited–apartment and condo construction, mining, high tech manufacturing, an automobile manufacturing joint venture, etc. It seemed his businesses touched on every aspect of commerce and life. Henry was alone in the world–parents dead, no siblings; English relatives had disowned his mother when he married Chinese; his father’s family had pretty much been destroyed during the Cultural Revolution. Then he turned to his personal life. He needed to be extremely discreet. Homosexuality was still illegal in China (although many wealthy executives and politicians kept boys on the side) and, although nominally legal there, Singapore was not tolerant. Gayness equaled exclusion from society and politics. And in Singapore, politics is business. He couldn’t withstand the ignominy of a gayness accusation. “I feel so much safer in Houston–although if word got back to my associates in Asia that I’m gay–and enjoying being gay–I would lose much of my access and the businesses would suffer. “Enough of this unpleasantness. Now shall we take our dessert to bed?”
The flowing robes billowed behind them as they moved quickly to the owner’s suite. Both undid and dropped the robes and stood facing each other. “What have I done to deserve such beauty?”
“No it’s me. I’m the fortunate one to have found someone like you. You are a giant–my gentle giant now. And that giant cock owns me. You’ve spoiled me for anyone else.” Jason fell on his knees and shimmied up to Henry, pushing him back into the easy chair. Then he attacked and sucked the dark swollen cock head in while he squeezed the heavy balls with his delicate fingers. “I think I’m going to have Anglo-Chinese custard for dessert.” Henry was very aroused. Jason reached under and teased his rim. Henry hissed. and lasted only a few minutes before blasting into Jason’s mouth. Jason swallowed again and again as the spasms continued to feed Jason’s hunger. Then Henry reached down, pulled Jason up into his lap, drew him in, and kissed deeply–tasting his own cum from Jason’s lips. He then began to stroke Jason’s rock hard dick. “I’m really close. You’ve got me at the edge. Let’s take this to the bed.” Henry lifted him like a feather–or a baby–and cradled him to the bed.