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2020-11-05
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AFTER CHRISTOPHER

Summary:

Sequel to Proud Of Our BOY. Nicholas is invited to Christopher's commitment ceremony.

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AFTER CHRISTOPHER by Natasha Barry

Posted to SQUIDGE 2007, edited 2023. Based upon THE STATE WITHIN. AU. Nicholas/Christopher, Christopher/OMC. Sequel to my story Proud of Your Boy.

The invitation was alarmingly blunt:   a commitment ceremony to celebrate the union of Christopher Styles of Virginia and Patrick Plumm of Massachusetts.

At first, upon seeing the return address, Nicholas’ heart skipped a beat – the first tangible reminder he even had one after so many months.  With bated breath, he’d opened the envelope, getting caught up in the whispered promise of the past, hoping an invite was forthcoming to some joyous event, a birthday or some equally festive occasion.

But nothing like this.

True, he hadn’t seen Christopher in nearly three years.  Occasionally, he’d hear of a TV news appearance and glimpse the sultry figure on screen.  Because of Christopher’s former job as Undersecretary for Intelligence in the Defense Department as well as his family’s prominence in judicial and political circles, he was sometimes one of the revolving circle of talking heads who occupied those TV panel discussion shows.  Once, Nicholas was flipping the radio dial when he recognized the smooth timbre and realized Christopher was on, that time because of his position at the helm of one of the Fortune 500 companies.

Three years ago, upon their return from Paris together, Christopher had put feelers out for new opportunities and thereafter a surfeit of appropriate job offers for one of his ranking and experience surfaced.  He’d accepted what was now his current position, located in New York City, and Nicholas had followed him there for a short time.  Being based in the consulate, rather than the embassy, was a bit of a comedown for the MI6 Intelligence Agent, but with NYC being the premier metropolis on the planet, it wasn’t bad as he’d thought. In fact, besides him being in the same city as Christopher, the off-duty world in the East Coast was certainly more exciting and full of opportunities.

Styles quickly secured himself a flat in the Upper East Side, while Nicholas made do with something far less spacious. After all, he didn’t have an executive or family income to fall back on.  Meanwhile, both D.C. abodes were let go, Nicholas to a sub-lease, with the former Undersecretary listing his townhouse with an agent. 

From frequent dinner dates to luncheons and then after-work get-togethers, the approachability of Christopher Styles quickly loomed, with Nicholas eventually realizing he could barely get the man on the phone.  From the promise of their Paris vacation to this, he hadn’t let himself contemplate.  A few times, at a loose end, he told himself, or other times he assured himself he was merely keeping in practice, Nicholas had even tailed the man, to gay bars mainly, where Christopher would eventually come out unaccompanied or no.  But when Christopher was with someone – a pick-up – it was always back to the other guy’s place, Nicholas saw, never his own.  Christopher probably didn’t want anyone witnessing the cash flow at his disposal, especially when these men were strictly one-offs.  It was fun, watching a casually attired Christopher foregoing the sophistication of his former exalted hangouts, no more opera and even the theater events on hold. 

Eventually determined to bestow upon Christopher his much needed ‘space’, Nicholas left a message on voicemail, “Guess what?  I’m back to Washington.  Call me.”  And Christopher did, sounding both cheerful and guarded, managing to wish him good luck, and thank him once again for all the care and time the man had taken with him.  Nicholas almost expected a gift to come in the mail.  And one did, eventually, delivered to the embassy in his name:  a watch from Tiffany & Co., with a slight inscription: To NB from CS.  Careful, was the man, to the last.  Still, he wore the watch; and not because of its value.  Along with the gift was a short note:  “I know you’re happy to be midst the hum of Washington.  Take Care, Christopher.”  The man left Nicholas without a thing to say.

In the interim, Nicholas had brief affairs and alliances. After all, he wasn’t neutered. But nothing emerged of the romantic complexity and heights and depths associated with Christopher. 

Patrick Plumm?  Nicholas did the expected thing and net searched him.  Financially secure, and a part of society, but not ‘old money’ and connections as the Styles were set up, going back in New England for several generations, so not potato famine either. 

===

“So, how are you?”

Face to face, these were Christopher’s first words to him.  At least they had privacy, his message left for Christopher at the Plumm residence having the man himself seeking him from the lobby of the hotel requesting his presence.  From exchanged awkward smiles, the groom led his former lover to the outer gardens.

He noted the leisure jacket and blue jeans; he’d never seen Christopher attired thusly.  Even trainers, to set everything off.

“Lovely hotel.”

“I’m glad you came.  I was worried you wouldn’t.  It wouldn’t be right if we hadn’t seen each other again.  If not for you, I wouldn’t have a life.”

“And you, me.  There’s BC and AC:  Before Christopher and After Christopher.”

“I’m flattered.”

“No, you’re not.  But it makes me pathetic.”

“Don’t be like that.  You and me…  There just weren’t rules for what we were.  And a rotten case of bad timing, you have to admit.  It’s not like we did anything wrong.  I would change some things, if I could.  Many things.  Maybe I didn’t work hard enough at keeping you. Maybe the job got in the way, so it stopped being fun.  This isn’t where I thought I’d be in three years.  And you were there to scrape me off the floor and pick up the pieces, which is more than I deserved.”

“That’s over with.”

“And I’ve never thanked you properly for all you did for me.  So, once again, how are you?”

All this formality was off-putting, and Nicholas said, “Work, same friends, a few lovers, no one special.  You’re a tough act to follow.”

“As are you.  We had something special.”

“So you’ve got yourself a rich husband?”

“Not as rich as me, but enough a simple contract isn’t out of line and both sides of the family are happy.  Too many lawyers, you know.”

“Then the snobs on both sides are content.  And you?”

“I’ve always gone for quality over quantity, you know that.”

Nicholas conceded the point with a nod.  “How did you and Patrick meet?”

“He goes by Pat.”

“You should have found another C.  Makes it easier on the monograms.”

“If anyone does that anymore.  We met at the Museum. I was on the board, and he was brought in as a consultant.  I never wanted to hurt you, you know.  Maybe I held back too much in the beginning; so you never knew how I felt.  But I didn’t want to scare you away.  That’s what I think happened.”

“And me. You knew a lot, but all too late.  And I was holding back too, especially with the run-in of business versus personal.  I guess the energy, the innocence, was all gone.”

“I didn’t deserve you, but I couldn’t trust us anymore, not after everything that happened. I needed a clean slate.  I needed to find myself; not wasting so much time in trying to prove myself.”

“And along the way you found your intended?”

“I want you to meet him.  I’ll even leave you alone together.  He knows the bare essentials.”

If the younger man was formerly an over-achiever who’d gone a little too far into the games of life and death, could be he’d gotten that needed bit of hand’s-on reality check while living outside the nation’s capitol.  “It would be interesting for me as well.”

“Later today?”

“That’s possible.”

“In fact, I’ll get Patrick on the phone now.” 

The cell was whipped out and Nicholas drifted off a few paces as the call was initiated.  He only vaguely recalled what life was like before cell phones.

“I’m with Nicholas now,” he was overhearing one side of it.  A short pause on this end.  “I think it’s okay, as long as you’re all right with that.  I’ll ask him.”  Another pause, then, “Okay, bye.   Nicholas?  Ah, this might sound funny, but Pat and I have discussed it and we’d like to have you stay with his family.  Of course, I’ll be there, along with my parents.  If that doesn’t frighten you.”

Nicholas barely hesitated.  “Sounds lovely.”  In fact, his nerve endings were alert for battle readiness.

Having been invited to stay at the Plumm abode, Nicholas was finding himself having to combat an instinct for sleuthing.  Snooping is what his mum would have called it, considering this was purely an entry for a social calendar.  But there was something irresistible about being in a home of Christopher’s, even if only by extension. 

Within a half hour of the two fiancés discussion, Nicholas was ensconced with his weekender in a spare guest room at the ‘manor’, as he longed to put it.  He knew from photographs the Styles estate was on a much grander scale, but this would certainly do in a pinch.  There had to be at least six bathrooms in the house.  And a rather grand garden his English roots were dying to explore.

The fiancé, Patrick, had come out to meet him, but any conversation the boyfriends of Christopher were supposed to engage in was cut short as the groom was called away by a servant who expressed some urgency.

But first things first, and after laying out a suit for the evening, Nicholas went roaming downstairs, and he came upon servants and the hired help, all busy with floral arrangements and setting the dining table.  He saw the amount of place settings, an even number, and knew his arrival had been taken for granted.  He was passing yet another room he was about to peer into when he overheard two women’s voices raised in conversation.

“You have such a handsome son.”

Nicholas wondered which son was being favored, since either mother could reasonably claim to having handsome offspring.

“That beautiful skin, and such eyes!  Brilliant.  I only wish my daughter had such a lovely complexion.”

“It’s the Creole in him, at least that’s what my husband says.”

Obviously Christopher, then, as the other intended was blond.

“He does favor you,” came the comment, from presumably Mrs. Plumm.  “So much like Jackie Kennedy.”

“My family was from Louisiana; French by way of the Deep South.”

“And does Christopher speak French?”

“Oh, quite fluently, I insisted we bring a governess over from France.  Even the French Ambassador was at our house for dinner and he complimented Christopher on his French, said if he hadn’t been told he’d have thought Christopher a native of his country.”

“And the French never compliment anybody!”

They laughed while Nicholas responded with a wry smile as he lurked out of sight of the room’s occupants.

“We thought he’d be going into the diplomatic service; perhaps even the Ambassador to France, if he were going to forego political office.  Paris would have been impressive.  But he decided elsewhere.  I guess the Defense Department has its excitement.”

“They make quite a couple, visually, don’t they?”

“Light and dark, oh, I know.  Too bad they can’t have children, it would be so much fun to see what they’d turn out.”

Then, “Odd, but all the boyfriends Christopher ever brought home or I knew about, all blonds.  For the contrast, do you think?  That’s what his father says, anyway.  Not that he had that many boyfriends; very particular is my Christopher.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Patrick with a blond,” Patrick's mother was saying.  “Not more than a friend, anyway.  Must be true about opposites attracting.”

“My husband was fair, but my genes dominate,” Mrs. Styles said with pride.

“Your Christopher has done so well for himself.  My Patrick was never an academic.  But he does have his talent.  That’s brought him some notice.”

“Oh, yes, dear, remember I’ve seen his work.  But Christopher did very well at Harvard.  I even had him packing for Egypt, and he was going to assist on some dig or something during one of the breaks.  I never quite got that straight.”

There was a flash of something behind him, like a disturbance in the light, and Nicholas moved along, too swiftly to gain notice.

It was interesting to have his first discovery of members of the family, not through well-guarded politeness due to his status as a guest, but overhearing their more personal interactions with each other.

In the next room were the French Doors leading to the garden.  Like all Englishmen he was attracted to a well-designed and well-managed exterior, and having a few moments to himself would come in handy.  If anyone asked, he was touring the gardens.  But then he heard a couple of voices in conversation, not loud or fierce enough to be an argument in progress. Still, his curiosity got the better of him, especially as he recognized one voice as Christopher’s, so he crept closer, keeping foliage carefully between himself and the forthcoming figures.  It was Christopher and his intended, and they weren’t moving, but relaxing in a couple of chaise lounges conveniently situated to take in the glory of the scenery.  No doubt they were seeking privacy, or some semblance thereof, or were under the impression that members of the household were otherwise occupied.

Christopher was saying, “What good would that do?”

“She might gain an understanding of her son she doesn’t otherwise have.”

“Michael never told her about us; I can’t go against that.”

“So you never intend to tell Warner about her son?”

“No.”

“It explains a lot though.”

“You’re one of the few people I’ve told about Michael.” 

That seemed a warning, at least to Nicholas who recognized the soft tone.

“Michael, Nicholas, me.  It’s not like you’re sleeping around.  And she knew her boy was gay, you said so.”

“I’d have to go into all of it, and he didn’t want her to know, so why should I?”

“I guess it’s your business, I just don’t like things haunting you, as they do now and then.  Believe me, I know, I sleep with you, remember?”

Nicholas wondered at that, as the Christopher he’d bedded never thrashed or spoke in his sleep. 

“Michael is only a small part of that.  I just can’t go into the rest, you know why.”

“Defense Department.  Wow.  Impressive.”

“Oh, stop it.”

“I wonder what you were like then.  Very serious, I imagine.  Too bad I didn’t record any of that stuff on CNN.  But who knew?” 

Quite flippant, that last, and Nicholas could respect him for that.

“Oh, quite.”

“And before that, at Harvard?”

“Not like college, huh?  God, Harvard was a party.  Nothing like being away from home for the first time.”

“I wish I knew you then, too.  Just to appreciate how different you are now.  The sober CEO and former government figure.  That blond guy you showed me a picture of?  What was his name?  He was your guy then.”

“He worked hard enough for it.”  They both chuckled.  “I wasn’t easy. Still tried at having a girlfriend. And Mom, even then, I swear was planning the society wedding of the year.”

“Well, she’s getting it now.  At least the in-laws are getting along.”

Came a sigh Nicholas recognized as being Christopher’s.  Then:  “We’d better go in.”

Came the quip:  “The smartest thing we did was let the moms handle the wedding.”

Nicholas kept quiet, not announcing himself as the two men took to the path leading to the house.  On his own, he decided to venture further on, coming upon a lawn, which he realized was a putting green, but one in use, by two men older than himself:  he took them to be the fathers of the grooms.  This was getting to be a strange day for finding convenient pairs.  Not that he was getting much thinking done, however he was getting more and more info to digest.  Consequently, he kept distant again, and wouldn’t have heard the men’s conversation except they had rather loud booming voices, the kind to be heard in auditoriums without aid of a microphone.  There was a soft southern accent buried beneath the one he took to be Christopher’s father, just as the other man had a stressing of the rounder vowels associated with the Boston region.  They seemed to be taking turns lining up shots. Staying hidden was easy; the men were intent on each other and those damn balls.

“Your boy’s made good; got a lot to be proud of there.  And having boys isn’t easy,” came the Bostonian, “I know.  I have three, and I never know what they’re going to spring on me next.  I’ve got one insists on bringing me grandkids though he never marries, and can’t be bothered with legal documents either.  Another one keeps starting businesses that fail.  And the girl is a complete mess, but she looks to have settled down – finally.  I still haven’t adjusted, frankly, to Patrick being a homosexual.  His mother does better with that, but then she always favored the artsy types.  You wouldn’t believe how many ballets I had to attend before she found friends to accompany her.  Museums and the like; that’s how your boy and mine were set up.”

“I’ve known about Christopher since Harvard.  I think his mother knew before that.”

“She didn’t warn you?  Funny how that is.  But women and their sons, they’ll protect them no matter what.”

“I came to a realization, so it wasn’t a shock when he finally got around to it.  But I doubt she wanted that conversation.”

“It’s not a conversation any of us want.  Can you imagine, well, obviously you can, having your son come to you proclaiming love for another man and wanting to get married?  Like it was normal?  I’m still reeling from when he was sixteen and told me he was gay.  His mother found some magazines.” 

“Christopher was sly.  He made the announcement to the family after it was redundant.”

“Have to say, your son is certainly a success.”

“He’s putting that expensive education to use.  He could have done anything; he had all the advantages.  If it hadn’t been for the gay thing, we would have had him governor by now.”

“White House ambitions?”

"When he was younger.  By the time he was at Harvard, I knew he was confused.  We all knew he was confused.  He made sure we couldn’t miss it.  One weekend he’d bring home a girl; the next holiday a boy.  I didn’t have to be an expert to figure that one out.  Fluent in French; intelligent; and the boy had those looks he got from his mother.  Christopher had no limits, especially with our connections.  Instead, he tried to bury himself in government, always in the background, standing behind someone else, never out in front.  I tried prodding him, but it seemed to suit him.  Of course he had issues that didn’t bare disclosing to the public.  Inconvenient, all that talk behind his back, about him, no matter how many social functions he dragged some poor girl to.  Not pleasant for us to deal with, either, so many wasted plans, and hoping he comes to his senses so something can be salvaged from the situation.”

“I didn’t know your ambitions for him rose that high.”

“With our political and judicial backgrounds, and his own presence – have to hand it to his mother there, she was the one with the grace and beauty, quite the stunner when I met her – he could have gone all the way.  But you try to support the boy, because he’s yours, god gave him to you for a reason, but nothing but wrong decisions from the time he was old enough to make them. Excepting for hooking up with your boy, of course.  At least he made an intelligent choice there.  We’ll get some respectability behind this at last.  Especially with the women forcing it down everyone’s throats.  Those garden parties and charity committee connections will do a wonder.  They’re in love with the image of the two bright young men; envisioning adopted children even.  Sickening.” 

“Seems his career to date has been respectable.  Head of Intelligence at Defense, not bad.  And he avoided all that unpleasantness.”

“That Warner woman, she scuppered his career.  But at least he was fired at the right time; nobody is blaming him for all the fiascos.  And he had no tie-ins to those subcontractors – now that was a disgrace.  I kept telling him, you can get back into a job, Warner’s out, and there’s still a possibility for a political career.  I wanted him to run for state senate, but he said no.”

“What did happen there?”

“Hell, even I don’t know.  Besides being gay, maybe there’s stuff comes out he knows about.  Not him, of course, he wouldn’t be guilty of anything that stupid, but he knew all the players, and says if he gets back into government it’ll just be raked up again and it’ll be guilt by association.  At this point, everyone’s prepared to let him be.”

“Seems wrong, though, for him to take a hit.”

“It is wrong.  For years seeing him insist in being in the background, and he finally gets into a position where he’s right hand man and on TV every night, and it’s time for him to be exploited, and nothing.  And she was responsible, somehow, I know it.  You know he used to come home raving about her; quoting that bitch on this and that.  What was wrong with quoting his own family, I kept asking him.  We have enough intellectuals and success stories to fill books.  He had the name; he just didn’t know what to do with it, and we gave him every advantage and provided him all the connections he could ever need.  He could have been in the White House, Chief of Staff by now.  I should have known, he’d never make the history books.  I used to warn his mother not to expect too much.  So she’s going gung ho over a wedding.  And I’m thinking the woman is crazy.”

“Sentimentalists, they all are.  My wife is no better over Patrick.”

“Did you know, one time in his life, he even wanted to be a tennis pro?  Of course, he could have had the marriage and kids and something on the side and pursued a public life:  wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Hard to keep that sort of thing hidden nowadays.  The media and all? They turn over every rock.”

“Christopher always wanted to hide behind some skirts anyway.  When I came home from work, I’d expect my family to greet me, and there they’d be, but Christopher lagging behind.  Like he was afraid I’d whip him or something.  And I never raised a hand to that boy.”

“Sensitive.  I don’t remember my son ever caring whether I was home or not.  Still, your son was quite the achiever.  I’ve seen the trophies and certificates.  Quite a shrine, you’ve got there.”

“His mother put that stuff out, just after he introduced us to his first boyfriend.  He’d experiences before that, I’d bet on it. But this was the one that set him in his ways.  I guess she needed to remind herself he’d been meant to amount to something.  Oh, yes, riding, tennis, all the stuff young men do to keep in shape these days, he was into that.  He was always athletic.  Besides, can you imagine a Virginian not knowing how to sit a saddle?”

“It’s a different generation.  One of my sons just sits on his ass all day.  I don’t know what to do with him.”

“And another one an artist?”

“At least your Christopher is in a proper job; he has authority.  Men respect him; women want to be with him.”

“With a wedding he’s making it more than obvious he’s off the market.  He’ll be joining the Log Cabin Republicans next.  I’ve dreaded that day.”

“Sounds like you were expecting it.”

“Yeah, I knew even when he was at Defense there was someone he was involved with.  They were being “covert” as he said, for the moment, but the relationship was progressing rapidly.  Presumably he was going to tell Warner and see what her advice was about the whole thing.”

“Did he tell her?”

“From what I understand the personal relationship dissolved along with his job, though the two aren’t connected.”

“Politically, our boys are not compatible.  The Plumms have always been Massachusetts Democrat.”

“We’ve got bigger issues, don’t we?”  Mr. Styles pointed out.  “And I’m not going to worry over religion or how they’ll raise the children, and we’ve got Catholics in our family, don’t forget, as well as a few voodoo practitioners, though my wife denies it.”

Nicholas contained the laugh but not his grin.

“I gather politics isn’t a big part of Christopher’s life now.  And Patrick’s fairly easy-going.”

“I’m not certain Christopher cares anymore, and he used to live and breathe the stuff.”

“If your Christopher switches party allegiances, will it be hard on you?”



It seemed the round of putting was on hold.

“I doubt the Republicans want him anymore.  There’s that whole stink that’s never been gotten to the bottom of.  Was he a scapegoat for Warner or did he disagree with his boss on policy?  Unless they need a gay standard bearer, and I can’t see that coming, can you?  And why do they call it sexual preference, anyway, when they keep proclaiming it’s not a choice?  You can’t have it both ways, though some try, I suppose.  Do you know, he’s even brought an old boyfriend as an invited guest?  Fairly serious one, at one time.  He hasn’t said, but I’ve wondered if it’s the mysterious Washington figure.  That’s the last regular boyfriend he had.  I thought that’s what Warner found out about, and didn’t approve, but when he came home, there was no one with him.  The only thing I got from him, over that one, is Christopher said it burnt out. He equates it with his Washington career. Can you imagine that?  I don’t even know the boy anymore.  But we’ll be meeting the old boyfriend over dinner.”

“My son invited him to stay, to please Christopher, or so he said.  I think it was to satisfy his curiosity.  It’s hard to know how I’d behave.  I know my wife wouldn’t have wanted my old girlfriends anywhere in the vicinity of our wedding.”

“This generation may be more civilized.”

“If that’s the case, it’s unfortunate your Christopher didn’t ascend to the diplomatic corps.”

“France is sophisticated. That Ambassadorship may still be in line.”

Nicholas moved on.  He’d been fortunate, after all, not to have been caught by any of the parties involved.  But they’d certainly all given him enough to think about, and even wonder – yet again – how well he knew Christopher.  There’d been the dossier on him, to begin with, true, and then their own personal relationship, which eventually led to the breakdown of the relationship neatly coinciding with Christopher’s career breakdown and personal attempt at ending his life.   But parents knew and experienced a child so much differently from a lover or professional combatant. 

It was as if he expected to turn his head and see the young man as a horseman trotting past.

Twenty minutes later he was in his room and turning at the sound of the door opening.  Needless to say, Christopher hadn’t bothered to rap at the door.  But Nicholas could have wished he had been caught dishabille. 

“Have we abandoned you?”

“It’s been useful.”

Nicholas was cautious.

Immediately Christopher was suspicious.  “You’ll make me wonder about that.” 

“You’re not intending to cheat on your boyfriend, are you?”

“I need to talk to somebody.”

“Homing pigeon.”

“What?”

“Think about it.”

Christopher sighed.  “Must be a British-taught gambit for inflicting torture.  I have no time for riddles.”

“Then think about this.” Nicholas helped him along.  He grabbed the man, bringing him close for a hard, swift kiss.  Not enough to set the pulses racing, but enough to get the point across.  Then letting him go and watching that shocked face morph into an expression like fear. “Your family doesn’t know you.  The man you’re marrying sure as hell doesn’t know you.  But I know you.   I know the very worst of you.  I know what you’re capable of.  And I’ve saved you in spite of it.  In spite of yourself.”

“We’ve been through this.”

“I know you. And I’m willing to take you on.  You can make life hell, Christopher, but it’s an even bigger hell without you.”

“This wasn’t why I came here, or why I invited you.”

“Isn’t it?  Didn’t you want to test that fire again?  Well, I’m confident, sweetheart, and I’d even marry you, right now, right this minute.”

“I only came in – “

“To do what?  I’m on a tight time frame, sweetheart.  I didn’t have to be invited to stay here.  Your Patrick was very polite and open-handed, stupidly so.  I wouldn’t take such chances.  I’m the man kept you a prisoner in London and Paris, remember?”

“You’re also the man who let me live my own life in New York.”

“The old phrase, about setting free the one you love, remember that?”

“I’m sorry, if that’s what you thought.”

“Don’t be.  I haven’t been wringing my hands and staying home with my sheets untwisted.”

Christopher glared at him a moment.  In another place and time, they would have been shagging each other by now, on the bed, on the floor, against the wall, you name it.  Nicholas smiled in remembrance.

“Patrick’s waiting to really meet you.  He’s downstairs.”

“Let’s go then.”  Figuring his ex-lover was no longer in the closet, especially in these environs, Nicholas followed the shorter figure downstairs, a considerate eye on that trim arse.  And he knew Christopher sensed exactly what he was doing.

A moment later the two blue-eyed blond men, one – Nicholas – of leaner build, were facing each other again.

“Hey, babe,” the East Coast blond greeted his intended.  Then the prospective groom was extending a hand in welcome to the newcomer.  “Nicholas, I’ve heard so much about you.  Sorry for the rushed introduction earlier.  Things are a bit hectic now.”

They were meeting in the airy room with the French Doors which led to the garden.

“So, what have you heard?”

“Not much really. With that intelligence background, Christopher is pretty tight-lipped.”

“It was an interesting time.  But it’s wonderful to receive an invitation.  Christopher and I had lost touch.”

“My parents think we’re remarkably civilized, or particularly stupid, one or the other.”

Christopher said, “Tell him the rest.”

“No other exes are invited, which should make me uncomfortable.”  With that, he shot a fond, yet rueful look to his intended.

“I think with that I’ll take my leave,” responded the intended under fire.  He told his fiancé, “I promised Nicholas you’d have one-on-one time.” 

Nicholas watched his former lover’s departure.  He hoped the yearning in his heart wasn’t apparent in his gaze. 

“Fascinating, isn’t he?” Patrick was watching for the reaction.  “At first I couldn’t get to the bottom of him, past his defenses, and that made it a challenge.”

Ah, so that was the approach, was it?  But he had no trouble admitting, “Same here.”  He’d been lured in by that beautiful face and fit body, despite the indelicacy of the arrangement, as well as to the hint of confidence and competence the American upper crust exhibited in his life and work.  Shortly he’d come to realize no matter how busy his day was, he looked forward to their communications and especially to any confrontations.  Even a business meeting could have his eyes straying to take in the attractive figure.  It was an added bonus when their eyes met.  Any time with Christopher was always time well-spent.

“I mean, he’s so cultured and refined, and polite company, but I’m used to that.  Then I thought we didn’t have enough in common, he can be somewhat intimidating, with his background and all, but turns out we’re doing just fine.”

Nicholas nodded. “I had rather more in common with him, but I see what you mean.”

“You were racquetball partners.”

“Squash,” Nicholas customarily corrected.  “The difference is in the size of the court.”  He was accustomed to explaining that, as well.

“Want a drink?”

“Scotch is fine.”

“No gin and tonic?  Another cliché bites the dust.”  While at the drinks cabinet, “He’s tried to get me into it, squash, I mean, but I don’t give him a very good game.  Ice?”

“No.”

“I’m not surprised you’re here, though.  Curiosity?”

“Some,” admitted Nicholas.  “But aren’t you more worried about lingering passion?”

“His for you or you for him?”

“Does it matter?”

“I have a feeling you’re a lot more exciting than I am. I can see what he meant by Intelligence and British, and can’t help thinking 007. But he’s in a different phase now, and you’re an unhealthy reminder.  You're right. When you’ve loved someone, I don’t think it ever goes away.  There are going to be traces, if only due to the good times, so if I’m going to face that, I’d better do it now.”  Moving to take a sip of his drink, he added, “And, not to put too much stress on it, I should compliment you on your prowess as a lover. Not that he got too detailed, but I heard you two were…intense.”

Accepting the proffered glass, “We were evenly matched.”  Which was the most threatening thing he could have said.

“Yes,” said Patrick, knowing his lover too well. 

The Englishman flashed back for a moment on how it had been between he and Christopher in bed, and something of it must have been communicated on his face, because Patrick literally took a step back.

And the man was right, Christopher was difficult to know, but only outside of bed.  The facade was in place in public.  But in private the dynamo was passionate and generous and inventive and upon achieving his release, would have a lost, forgotten child quality to him, a rare light shining from those brilliant eyes, and those dark eyes would latch onto his, as if home was to be found there, and Nicholas would be coming off his fire to find himself newly entranced.  Christopher would sometimes turn his head, sighing into his skin, and he’d put out a hand to return the face to his own.  He found himself examining those eyes, that mouth, as if seeing them for the first time.  How Christopher always managed to look both wanton and ethereal, was a spell he never got over. 

For a moment, Nicholas fought a burning in his gut that this man before him, no matter what rights he presumed to or Christopher allowed him, would have the knowledge of that body, that passion, he had.  The presumption of ownership was something denied him, now.  Though he wondered, though Patrick may be in current possession, if it were ever possible, as he’d told Christopher, any man could know another as they knew each other.

At a commotion behind him, Nicholas turned to see the young man’s parents entering the room.  “Dinner is in fifteen minutes.  You must be Nicholas.”

“Yes.”  Nicholas extended his hand in greeting.  There was a paleness to this couple he could discern in the younger Patrick.

Since he already had a drink, Mr. Plumm went to the drinks cabinet and offered a brandy to his wife, who demurred, then poured a small portion for himself.  “I’m sure the Styles’ will be down shortly,” was the announcement.

Nicholas said, “Must be rather hectic here, with the ceremony tomorrow.”

"Most of the guests are staying at the Lodge,” Mrs. Plumm said.  “But our boys wanted to make an exception for you, and the house is big enough.  I hope your accommodations are pleasant.”

“Very pleasant.  And a nice change as I spend a lot of my time in hotels.”

“But I understand you have a flat in London,” said Patrick.

“Yes.  It’s a base.  I often travel to other cities.”

“Ah, the spy business,” Mr. Plumm said knowingly, even adding a wink.  “We know that much, anyway.  British Intelligence, said Christopher, but only that much, don’t worry.”

“He would have knowledge of my background and duties, from when he was Undersecretary,” agreed Nicholas.

“It does make for an interesting shorthand, in conversation, I bet. Having a file on someone.” 

Of course, it also worked in reverse, he’d had the dossier on Christopher Styles, along with the assumption the man was gay.  Which suited Nicholas perfectly, making an entrée into the man’s life easier to arrange as well as preferable, since his groin had given a distinctive twitch at the sight of that face in the attached photograph.

“Though I bet you have to be tight-lipped about it, too,” ascertained Mr. Plumm, continuing that line.  Perhaps it was safer than dealing with the personal?

Just then the Styles’ entered the room, son and parents, accompanied by a young lady whom Nicholas didn’t recognize.  Introductions proceeded and Nicholas learned she was the sister of Patrick and evidently his brothers lived elsewhere or were at least detained from attending the family dinner. 

“You’ll meet the rest of the family, both sides, tomorrow,” Nicholas was informed.  Again, he was struck at how he was the only non-family member in attendance. What was Christopher playing at to have arranged this?

Dinner itself was an interesting affair.  Of course, in his career he’d attended awkward meetings, but it was strange to be amongst family and prospective family and him the outsider, and he was constrained from what he could say regardless, as his only association amongst these people was Christopher and his intimate as well as professional relationship with the man.  However, it was slightly more comfortable than all those dinners where attendees practiced their small talk as they struggled to remember all the things they weren’t supposed to talk about.  There were many a prospective diplomat who was removed from the running cause they couldn’t stand the strain induced by formal dinners.

Patrick’s sister, Lillian, seemed to be dominating the conversation, or kept it flowing, depending upon one’s sensitivity.  He noted Christopher, like himself, was in observational mode, helpful with their government backgrounds, and perhaps a normal part of the younger man’s personality, rather than assumed when in office.

“Lillian has her own game she plays.”

Nicholas realized the young woman’s mother was addressing him.  “Oh, yes?”

Lillian said, “A word game.  Nothing else I was allowed to do growing up with three brothers.  They resented me getting into their stuff.  They’d all go off together, doing god knows what.  So I had to be more clever or be stuck alone most of the time.”

“Tell Nicholas about your letter for Christopher,” brother Patrick prompted, causing Christopher to frown.

“When I meet someone, I automatically type them,” she said.  “When I met Christopher, I thought, he’s an L.”  As Nicholas frowned, she continued. “L is for lustrous skin, luminous eyes, and luscious lips,” she recited, pleased with herself.  “And though brother dear didn’t ask, he’s a C.  C is for cultured, cute and cuddly.  I’m sure Christopher agrees.”

“I’m sure she’s gotten to you as well,” 'cuddly' Patrick told Nicholas with a smile.

“Oh, yes,” Lillian responded, informing their guest, “It’s all instant impressions, as I said.  You’re a P.  Nicholas is P for powerful, proper and pensive. Most of all pensive.”

His former lover chimed in. “She’s got you down.”  It was said with a smile. 

Nicholas was thinking, you’re right.  But also wondering at how her judgment on her brother’s lover as well as her brother was apparently based on the superficial, but he considered her assessment of him, a stranger, went a bit deeper.  He fought to look calm all the time, especially at social functions, but knew sometimes that effort to be a dismal failure.

For the household, the shit seemed to hit the fan – as Americans so loved to say - just after dinner.  Having excused himself earlier, Christopher came downstairs holding papers in his hand.  It seemed to Nicholas a moment caught in time, as Christopher went to his lover and demanded, “What’s this?”

Nicholas sipped at his drink as the family members froze, having turned to both men upon Christopher’s attitude. 

“Oh,” Patrick said, looking it over, as Christopher was holding it out but not releasing custody.  “Something my mother gave me.” 

Judging by the reaction, it must be damaging evidence indeed.

“When?”

Now Nicholas wanted a look, but somehow felt he already knew.  As he watched the byplay between the two men, Patrick clearly guilty, and Christopher obviously furious, he knew his earlier hopes weren’t in vain.  And it wasn’t even something he had engineered; it looked as if the fiancé had dug his own grave.

“All right,” Patrick said, “it was before I met you.”

“We were set up?”

“You could say that.  But it wasn’t something I was against.  You have to know that.”

“So I was easy to bed.  At least no hardship there.  And, of course, my family’s money and position are greater than yours.”

“That’s between our parents. Has nothing to do with us and how we feel.”

“Merde,” Christopher bit out, switching to his second language. 

“I’d hardly be marrying you if I didn’t love you and we weren’t compatible,” Patrick said.  

“That’s not really the point, is it?”

“What is the point?” demanded Christopher’s father.  “You failed in Washington, and your lifestyle has limited your choices. Your mother and I – and the Plumms – are trying to salvage what we can of your life.”

“And how dare I interfere?” said Christopher.  “What’s so wrong with my life?  So what if I’m not the president or an ambassador or any other goddamn thing?  Ever since I can remember, you’re always making plans I can’t live up to, whether it’s because I’m gay or because I’m not smart enough or because I’m not as good as everyone else named Styles.  Just once I want to be left alone.”

“Where did us leaving you alone get you?  Your boss fired you; you left Washington under suspicion of god knows what, maybe only disloyalty, but that’s enough to get you hanged.  If you’d listened to me, and been guided by us, your life would be something to be proud of.  Something more than running a business which any man of reasonable quality can do.”

“Darling,” Mrs. Styles was sounding a more conciliatory tone.  “We were worried about you, especially after that Washington business didn’t work out, and you were so alone. We thought, what’s the harm in setting you two up?  Patrick found you attractive, and if it didn’t work out, then how much time was wasted?”

If Nicholas allowed himself to wince, he would have done so. 

“I’m probably nothing but wasted time for you,” Christopher shot back.

There was a real issue here, besides parental matchmaking.  If Christopher married Patrick now, what was next on the agenda?

Patrick re-entered the fray. “How did you get that?”

“I found it in my case.”

“What?”

“It was me,” said Lillian.  “I thought he had a right to know.  I mean, better now than he figure it out later.”

Mrs. Plumm turned on her youngest. “You shouldn’t have interfered.”

“This whole thing is about interference, that’s the point,” the young woman countered.  “I like Christopher, I think he and Patrick are good together, so all the more reason they start their life together with honesty.”

Nicholas was amazed at her naiveté, then recalled it was somewhat like Christopher’s, back when the Undersecretary was playing assassin games.  There was something peculiarly repulsive and yet honestly sincere about blatant manipulation.

Mr. Styles was declaring, “Is it really that big a deal?” to his son.

“I’m so tired of it,” Christopher was shooting back.  “And if I do marry Patrick, what’s next on the agenda?  You have to admit, you’re not prepared to leave my life alone.”

“What have you done with it?  What have you ever accomplished that wasn’t an accident of birth?”

“Dear.”  With a hand on her husband’s arm, Mrs. Styles plotted to waylay the attack. 

“So now I’m on the auction block.  An appropriate marriage is the only value I have left.  And you have to buy somebody to do it!”

“It’s not like that,” said Patrick.  “Hell, you know I’m attracted to you.” 

"If you had told me it was all arranged, we were arranged, within a week, even, it would be different.  Instead, you had no intention of telling me anything.  How can I trust you?  How do I trust any of you?”

His father about ready to do combat, Patrick waved him off.  “The ceremony is tomorrow.  What are you going to do?”

Mrs. Styles said, “Darling, family are coming from all over.  The country club is booked for the reception.  You know how much time we’ve taken over this.”

Christopher was looking at Nicholas, into his eyes, as if the answer were to be found there.

Less than an hour later, the two former lovers were on their own.

“Pensive.” Christopher was chuckling. 

Nicholas glanced at him to see the pleasure on his face.   It was a good sight to see after all this time. “What?”

Christopher’s and his bags were in the car, Christopher in the passenger seat as Nicholas drove the rental car he’d picked up at the airport.  He’d learned Christopher had driven in with his fiancé, former fiancé, and so they were down to one vehicle.  Easy to do, for Nicholas to arrange the scheduled return of the car in New York City instead of a Boston round-trip.  An international driver’s license ensured he knew which side of the road to stay glued to.

“I am speaking to you through my 'luscious lips,' while the moon bathes and makes even more lustrous my 'lustrous skin' and these 'luminous eyes' are struggling to gaze upon the passing scenery.  I like Lillian.  Thank God for her; though this wasn’t what she intended.  I feel like I’ve run away from home.”

Nicholas said, “Always had a hard time keeping my eyes off your luscious lips, myself, not to mention your luminous eyes.”

They were journeying down the road, towards the interstate, when Nicholas wondered, “So.”  It was time to clear up some loose ends, before things got crazy again, which you could take for granted when he and Christopher were involved.  “You were going to be an archeologist?”

“Huh?  Where’d you get that?”

“Something your mother said.”

“No, that was probably my brother.”

“We should try tennis together - if you want an alternative to squash.”

“Tennis?  Yeah, good game.”

“Heard you were proficient.”

“I took lessons.  I remember my brother was good at it.”

Nicholas was beginning to wonder if the younger man’s parents were present at his childhood.  “You did have a French governess, though?”

“What kind of conversation have you had with my parents?  Yes, the French governess is true.  I’m supposed to be quite the natural linguist, at least according to her.”

“So any other languages?”

“No.  My father didn’t see a practical side to it.  My mother got her way on the French ‘cause I think she resented the fact she never got to learn when she was a kid.  But that was an excuse.  Lousy retention, my mother.  Listen, don’t you know everything you need to know about me from that MI6 dossier?  You had to have been briefed.  You even knew I was gay, and that – my friend – not everyone knew, occasional rumors notwithstanding.”

“It was a supposition of theirs, more a desire on my part.”

“So you didn’t know for sure?”

Nicholas remembered back to their first meeting with a betraying smile.  “I couldn’t be that blatant, could I, in case I was wrong?  Fortunately our tendencies coincided.”

Christopher protested, “You wanted to lay me right then and there.”

“Back at you, sweetheart.”  He shot a glance to see Christopher fighting back a grin.  Sure enough they knew each other far too well to do without each other.

“Tell me about Michael.  I came upon you and Patrick in the garden.”

“Spying, huh?  It’ll take a while to burn that out of your system.”

“I didn’t come to your wedding; I came to get you back.”

For convenience, Christopher was ignoring that.  “Pat doesn’t know much about it.  But – “

And thereafter came the tale.

Their last weekend together, before Michael Warner was shipping off to fight overseas, the two men were playing tennis at the base’s court.  During a break between sets, Michael confronted his lover.

“I want us to get married.  Or at least the closest thing to it.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Think about it.  It’ll be a grand association, linking the Warner clan to the Styles family.  Two powerhouse dynasties combined.  In our own way, we’ll be expanding the Republican agenda.”

“And which of us will they lynch first?”

“We don’t have to be conservatives all our lives,” Michael said.

“Then we’re talking infanticide.”

“Will you promise to wait for me at least?  Ignore all those pretty boys in uniform.”

“No screwing around, I promise.  And I’m always resisting those pretty boys in uniforms, you may have noticed.”

“I’ll do the same.”

“No,” Christopher said after a moment.  “You fuck anyone takes your fancy.”

It took him a moment to get it, then Michael came over and gave his lover a kiss.  “I love you.  And first thing I get back, we tell my mom.”

“That was pretty much it,” Christopher said.  “As usual, I’m a pawn in some grander scheme.”

“Were you in love with him?”

“I cared about him.  We were together a few months.  Managed to keep it a secret. I don’t know how, since he was more open about being gay than I was.”

“Maybe he wanted to be dismissed." From the service, Nicholas meant.

“Possible,” the surviving lover conceded.

Nicholas thought Christopher was about to doze off, just as the car turned onto the interstate, but he piped up with, “What will you do now about the embassy?  Washington isn’t a place I want to return to.  Unless you’re planning a part-time, weekend arrangement thing.” He didn't sound enthusiastic about the success of that eventuality.

That caused Nicholas' head to spin round. "Eh? You're not keeping me then, with all your money?"

“Get serious,” said Christopher.

“I always am, my sexy angel, and I’d best not leave you on your own.  You’re far too susceptible to others influences.”

Christopher looked at him like, where’d that come from?  Not altogether displeased, at least about the surprise endearment, as he said, “That’s one I haven’t heard you use before.  And lucky for you my trust fund is separate from my inheritance, which is currently in doubt.”

“I’ve transferred to the consulate before. I’m sure there are possibilities on a desk job.  No more running about; it’d suit me.  I’m an old man now.”

“Ha ha.”

“This assignment has been aging me fast. Besides, now you’re disenchanted with your family’s dynastic ways, I expect to be your main loyalty, your husband as it were.  There’s no question of trust as neither of us was into pillow talk.”

“I don’t care anyway.  I don’t need it anymore.  It’s so hard to achieve anything when anything that’s happened for you is by benefit of one’s birth.  INTELLIGENCE was fun,” he admitted, “a real rush.  But that was another time.  I doubt I’m the same person.”

“You’re more seasoned, that’s all.  But don’t let’s get boring.  We were many things, sweetheart, but boring was never it.  And I promise the same.  We’ll play games if that keeps you occupied.”

In regards to that, Christopher snorted.  Then, “My parents hate you.”

“Wait until they get to know me.  Proper snobs, they’ll take to an Englishman all right, especially a man of mystery.”  He privately thought they might also appreciate the tight rein he had over their son, even if his influence superseded theirs.  “After all, their son did.”

“They’re not fond of me either.  Or me, them.”

Which reminded him of loose ends.  “So what is your brother up to?  Even in Intelligence, he exists in name only.”

Christopher considered that. “He runs boards.”

“Companies?” That should be showing up in a background.

“Surf boards; skies.  You name it.  He refuses to be a responsible adult.  Does have a surf shop in Hawaii.  It doesn’t have to make money. Maybe it doesn’t. Could be a tax write-off.  He's a trust fund baby, too.”

“Oh, you lucky sods. Seems he should be the one marrying into the Plumm family. You envy him?”

“Seems one of us had to be an overachiever.”

“Then you’ve paid your dues.  Now your life is yours.”

“I thought that’s what I was doing." Following a short pause, Christopher had to ask. "Really? A desk job?  No late night phone calls?  No transmitting of unconfirmed data across secure lines?  No running around behind your lover’s back, showing up out of the blue demanding sex?  You’re sure you can handle that?”

“Sedate suddenly suits me.  And so does sex with you, at any time.”

“Because of me, you’re sedate. I don’t see this “I’m an old man” shit.  You’d better not get old on me.  I’d be looking for a new racquetball partner.”

“Certainly.” Nicholas had to agree. “It’s because of you.  But remember, sweetheart," he returned to using his favorite endearment, "I enjoyed those uninterrupted nights of passion.  I’m certain the country can damn well do without me.  It can do without both of us. Just wait ‘til I introduce you to me mum.”

“Maybe she’s the one to give me your life story.”

Nicholas put forth his foxiest grin.

Christopher saw it.  “Back at you, honey.”



THE END