Rock Paper Scissors Read online

  ROCK PAPER SCISSORS

  Bobby Michaels

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  www.loose-id.com

  Warning

  This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id® e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  Rock Paper Scissors

  Bobby Michaels

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Published by

  Loose Id LLC

  1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-2924

  Carson City NV 89701-1215

  www.loose-id.com

  Copyright © January 2008 by Bobby Michaels

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.

  ISBN 978-1-59632-588-3

  Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader

  Printed in the United States of America

  Editor: Crystal Esau

  Cover Artist: April Martinez

  Dedication

  Dedicated to my “sisters,” Dawn, Irene, and Sarah, who provide more support than they will ever know, and to my readers who keep me doing this.

  Chapter One

  “You are coming to my game tomorrow, aren’t you, Daddy?” he asked, suspicion in his eyes as well as in his voice.

  “Ahh, come on, Tiger, I promised I’d come, didn’t I?”

  It wouldn’t be the first time I’d told him I’d come to one of his games only to have something come up I couldn’t get out of. The last time it was when one of my clients got himself caught up in a prostitution sting operation and I had to get him out of jail. But you don’t tell seven-year-old little boys Daddy was busy getting a guy who was old enough to be Daddy’s own father out of jail because he was picking up guys who were barely ten years older than the seven-year-old was.

  “Well…” he paused.

  “Look, I’ll be there. I promise. Now, isn’t it time you got some sleep? You won’t be much good as shortstop if you fall asleep out on the field.” I leaned down and kissed his forehead.

  His little arms went around my neck and my arms wrapped around his warm little body. Oh, God! What had I ever done to deserve the love this little boy gave me? God knows, I certainly didn’t go looking to have a son. I wasn’t looking for anything at all that night in the Sigma Tau Sigma fraternity house except maybe a quick lay. I sure wasn’t looking for a girl to become the mother of my child. I wasn’t looking for a girl at all. However, a combination of too much beer and a hit of Ecstasy, and it didn’t really matter to me at the time what the hell warm, wet hole I shoved my cock in.

  It was almost the end of my last year of law school and I was living in the frat house where I’d spent my entire college career. I was “Legacy.” My father and grandfather both had attended the university and had also belonged to Sigma Tau Sigma. Add to the fact my grandfather managed to become filthy rich and my father ended up making us even “filthier,” I was basically your spoiled little rich kid who also happened to be brilliant. I rarely had to study, even in law school; still made law review, and had my pick of high-powered law firms who wanted to recruit me. After all, along with those grades and that brilliance came the family name ‑‑ Thomas Wells Atherton III. I figured life had dealt me a pretty good and a pretty pat hand. Little did I know the roof was about to collapse on my little house of cards.

  About two months after the party the girl came to me and informed me she was pregnant. I hadn’t even seen her since the morning after the party when we woke up in my bed in my room at the frat house. Needless to say, I was more than a little shocked to find a girl in my bed that morning. There had been a lot of guys I’d woken up with in that bed, but not since high school had I bothered with fucking a girl. I was, in the vernacular, “queer as a three-dollar bill.”

  I’d discovered that about myself when I was about fourteen and attending the exclusive prep school my father had attended. I wasn’t exactly happy about it until I met Brandon. Brandon was a junior and on the school wrestling team. For some reason, there was a shortage of rooms for freshmen and I was assigned as his roommate. I figured he would take exception to this and probably pound the shit out of me on a daily basis as a way of achieving his revenge for having to put up with a freshman as a roommate. However, Brandon wasn’t at all angry about me living with him.

  Brandon, unlike most of us who were in the school because our parents were wealthy and could afford to send us there, was there on scholarship. His family was barely middle class and had evidently moved heaven and earth to get their oldest son accepted to the school in hopes of getting him into a good college or university. Brandon also had a little brother my age who he evidently loved very much and missed ‑‑ a lot. I became for Brandon his surrogate little brother. Well…in some ways I did, but not in other, more important ways.

  I certainly didn’t mind! Not only was I not going to get pounded, I was an only child and had always wanted an older brother. This turn of events was like a dream come true for me. In fact, had I been able to choose an older brother, I couldn’t have done better than Brandon. First of all, he was just about one of the most attractive boys in the school with blond hair, blue eyes, and these adorable freckles sprinkled across his nose. He also was a jock with the body of a young god. And, to go along with all those muscles and that body was a cock of godlike proportions as well. Within two weeks, I was sucking on that cock every night and having mine sucked by Brandon. Within a month, I found out what it was like to have eight hard, thick inches of boy cock reaming my ass. And that’s how it was until Brandon graduated and did get into a very prestigious university.

  But it didn’t really bother me when Brandon graduated. I know you’re supposed to fall in love with the first guy you ever have sex with ‑‑ well, at least it happens that way in stories. But I didn’t. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I loved Brandon’s cock, all right, and I did care a lot about him, but I wasn’t in love with him. In fact, other than my son, I’d never been in love with anyone. Maybe it was being an only child. Maybe it was being spoiled. Maybe I’m just too damned selfish. No! Scratch that. I do love my son, more than anything or anybody in this world. I would do anything ‑‑ absolutely anything ‑‑ for him. Even exchange my own life for his. I guess I did love Brandon to some extent. It was me through my father’s connections, who got Brandon that scholarship offer which allowed him his dream of getting into a prestigious university.

  Anyway, after Brandon left the prep school, I continued on for two more years. Without Brandon around anymore, I discovered there were plenty of guys who’d been dying to get into my pants, and I was on a mission to let every one of them who wanted it have a taste of my cock either up their ass or down their throat. There were also plenty of guys who I wanted up my ass or down my throat. Having sex with two or three guys a day wasn’t unusual during those last two years of prep school, and college was just more of the same.

  I’d had two experiences with females while I was in high school but both were isolated incidents that combined horniness with illicit drugs. Neither bears repeating. Besides, there were always guys eager to fuck around with me. Wh
ich is why what happened was such a shock. That night of the party I was a bad combination ‑‑ horny and wasted. I vaguely remember lying on my bed and feeling these hands exploring my body. I’ll admit, it felt nice. Somebody stroking your body and you’re laying there all hot and horny ‑‑ who wouldn’t like that? The next thing I know, she’s riding my cock while I lay there looking up at this girl I don’t even know fucking herself on me. I came and then I passed out.

  The next morning, I found her in my bed and she told me her name was Tina. It was probably the most awkward moment of my life ‑‑ having to deal with her that morning. I didn’t know what to say or how to act. Fortunately she quickly got dressed and went home. I didn’t think anything more about it. Until she ended up pregnant.

  At first, I didn’t know what in the fuck to do. I wasn’t sure the kid was mine. If she’d had sex with me while I was practically passed out, what made me think there hadn’t been other guys she’d also fucked? But she swore there hadn’t been. She told me she wouldn’t have done it with me but that she’d been so drunk and horny. That sounded incredibly familiar so I kind of believed her. Luckily, she didn’t want to get married because there was no way in hell that was going to happen. She also didn’t seem to know who I was ‑‑ what kind of money my family has.

  And speaking of family, that was my next problem. No way could I keep this from them so I decided I might as well “take the bull by the horns and face the situation.” I left school and drove to my father’s Boston office, to meet with him there. No way in hell I wanted to meet with him at home where my mother might learn of this! When I brought up the subject of the baby, my father was completely shocked.

  “But…I thought…well, that is…you never dated a girl that I knew of!” my father sputtered.

  If the situation hadn’t been so dire, I might have gotten some real enjoyment out of seeing my father, who was always totally in control, actually flabbergasted for once.

  “I don’t. This happened at a frat party. We were both drunk. The fact of the matter is, I don’t remember much at all of what happened.”

  “Well, what do you propose to do now?”

  “That’s just it. I don’t know.”

  “You aren’t intending to marry this girl, are you?”

  His voice and face both showed his distaste for this situation ‑‑ almost as much distaste as I felt for that solution.

  “God! No! I had thought about offering to pay for an abortion.”

  “Absolutely not!” my father roared. “That is not an acceptable solution!”

  “Could I ask why not? We aren’t Catholic or anything.”

  “It has nothing to do with religion. Your mother and I long ago gave up on ever seeing grandchildren, given your rather obvious preferences. It would kill your mother to learn there was a grandchild and you allowed it to be aborted. More importantly, I would have hoped by this point in your life you would have developed some sense of the responsibilities you will eventually have to fulfill concerning the family heritage.”

  “The family heritage?” I asked. “Oh! You mean the money.”

  “Yes, if you must put it so crudely ‑‑ the money. The legacy you will one day inherit is meant to be passed down to future generations within the family. Without an heir, you can hardly pass it down, now can you?”

  “I might point out that while I did donate the sperm for this child, I won’t exactly be the parent.”

  “Of course you will be. It’s obvious that our family can give this child advantages that this girl’s parents cannot. I’m sure they can be induced to give up any parental rights to the child.”

  “Hey! Wait a minute. If they give up parental rights to the kid, who’s going to raise it?”

  I was afraid I already knew the answer to that question.

  “Why, you, Thomas. Of course.”

  My father smiled at me. Somewhat the way the crocodile always smiled at Captain Hook!

  The idea of raising a child had me almost wetting my pants in sheer, unadulterated terror until I realized there was no chance in hell of this happening. After all, the courts didn’t award custody of children to fathers who aren’t even married to the mother. Not to mention the fact I was queer ‑‑ and courts didn’t like awarding custody of children to parents who are gay. This calmed me down.

  It shouldn’t have. I should have remembered that my father always found a way to get what he wanted. It took some doing but evidently my father had immediately dispatched detectives to look into every nook and cranny of Tina and her parents’ lives. Tina’s parents were pretty unsavory characters. Both of them were drunks and living on a disability pension her father managed to get when he had an accident at work ‑‑ an accident which was never proven but still suspected of being caused by him being drunk on the job. Tina herself was a high school dropout with not a prospect in the world or any way she could adequately raise a child. At the time she got pregnant, she wasn’t even working, having been fired from her job as a waitress for not showing up for work a few too many times.

  By the time my father’s very expensive and extremely competent lawyers were done, Tina and her family were several hundred thousand dollars richer and I was the proud ‑‑ though scared ‑‑ parent of Thomas Wells Atherton IV ‑‑ better known as “Tiger.” And I had every right to be scared! After all, in the words of Butterfly McQueen, “I didn’t know nothin’ ’bout birthin’ no babies!” ‑‑ or raising them, either. As my father pointed out, however, he hadn’t had any training in how to raise me. I decided it would not be diplomatic to point out he was not that sterling of a success as a father and, perhaps, he could have done with some training along the way. Until I reached twenty-five, Father still controlled the purse strings on the trust fund my grandfather had left me, so I diplomatically kept my mouth shut.

  Luckily, by the time Tiger was born, I had already graduated law school and had taken the time to pass the bar exams in Massachusetts, New York, Virginia, California, and Florida. I did one thing that annoyed my parents to no end, however. Rather than accepting a position with a large and prestigious Boston firm, which my father had arranged, I managed to get my own position with the most prestigious law firm in San Francisco ‑‑ three thousand miles away from my father’s sphere of influence. However, I only stayed at the firm for less than a year. Long enough for Tiger and I to get established and purchase a lovely Edwardian four-story house in the Castro.

  I found I didn’t like doing corporate work. To me, it is the most boring type of legal work. The only thing that can really be said for it is it is well-compensated work. It ought to be; eighteen-hour days filled with nothing but paper was not my idea of being an attorney. I wanted to work with people who really needed help. I quickly found a group that had the same ideas I did when I joined the National Lawyers Guild’s San Francisco chapter. Through it, I met Ted Mercer. Another gay lawyer, Ted was a dyed-in-the-wool liberal who was dedicated to preserving individual liberties. He had a small office in what is called SOMA (South of Market) where he handled just about any case that came along, be it criminal or civil. Ted was a good deal older than me and had slaved in the legal trenches for over twenty years.

  I don’t remember now who came up with the idea. It was probably me because I remember, at first, Ted thought I was insane. I decided I would leave my well-paid, boring position in corporate law and Ted and I would become partners in Mercer and Atherton, Attorneys-at-Law. At the time, Ted didn’t realize I had just turned twenty-five and therefore had complete access to the trust fund my grandfather had left for me. A trust fund that amounted to several hundred million dollars ‑‑ enough that I didn’t have to work at all, ever. So if I was going to work, it was going to be doing something I loved.

  I arranged for new, larger offices for us and furnished them lavishly while, at the same time, outfitting them with the latest in electronic gadgetry. I also hired away my secretary from the more prestigious firm, doubling her salary and doing the same for Ted’s
longtime secretary as well. I further hired several paralegals and law clerks from UC Hastings School of Law and Boalt Hall, the law school on the UC Berkeley campus.

  Ted has been openly gay his whole career. His practice had centered on gay civil rights issues. Though we’d take any case, these continued to be the core of our practice. In fact, about 70 percent of our business came from the gay community.

  Now, five years later, our business was going so well Ted and I had talked about bringing in at least one, perhaps two, other attorneys to relieve us of some of the burden of our overgrown client list. I thought about that as I turned out the lights to Tiger’s room and closed the door. If we had more help then maybe I could attend all of his baseball and soccer games. Tiger had turned into quite the little jock with only a slight nudge from dear old Daddy, and it was unfair Daddy didn’t get to spend time watching his son on the field of competition.

  There was something else Daddy was missing. Some good, old-fashioned male-male sex. Building a law practice and taking care of a seven-year-old boy doesn’t leave a lot of time for personal needs. I went from having sex two or three times a day in high school and college to where I was lucky if I had sex once a month ‑‑ usually at one of the sex clubs. I knew, when I had time, I could always duck into Blow Buddies for a quick suck. If I had any real time, I could go across the bay to Berkeley to the Steam Works, the only bath house in the San Francisco Bay Area.

  About the only really private time I took for myself ‑‑ on a daily basis ‑‑ was working out at a gym conveniently located about a block from the office. It wasn’t anything fancy, more a real gym than a “spa.” It was for guys only and guys who were serious about their bodies. I’ll admit there was a lot of “eye candy” there but I’d never found the time or inclination to hook up with any of them. I was funny about that. While I would have sex in a sex club or bath house, I didn’t want to date. One of the major reasons was my son. Being the father of a seven-year-old boy was not exactly an asset in the dating game in the world of gay men. That is, unless your potential date was a “boy lover,” and that was something I was worried about. I didn’t care if Tiger turned out to be gay or straight ‑‑ but I wanted it to be his decision after he reached puberty, at the earliest.