Open Sesame

By: Hank Horne
(© 2018 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

HHorne@tickiestories.us

Chapter 4

Man, I was really rested when I woke up Saturday morning.  I looked at the clock on the side table and it showed 6:00 a.m.  That was strange.  It wasn’t my clock, it wasn’t my bed, it wasn’t my room, although the stack of money was where it always is. Then there was a knock on my door.  I staggered out of bed, forgetting I was totally nude, and opened the door.

“Now that’s the way I like to see you in the morning!” 

It was Maji, wearing a Bikini swimsuit, tropical shirt and flip-flops, and carrying a beach towel.  He walked past me and asked, “I hope I’m not over-dressed for the occasion.  Are you going to the beach like that?” 

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Arman said you wanted me to join you here at Clearwater Beach in Florida for the weekend.  Should I dress down for our rendezvous?” 

“Huh?  Clearwater Beach?  Jamal!   What the fuck’s going on here?”

Jamal and Arman both appeared – clad only in fishnet thongs.  O – M – G! 

Jamal asked if I wanted breakfast before a dip in the Gulf of Mexico, or would I prefer a brisk run down the beach and take a swim, before eating.

“You two hide this money while Maji and I take a swim.  Do I have beach clothes with me?”

“Yes, you do, Master.  Here they are.”

My swimsuit was as skimpy as Maji’s, but the shirt helped hide my nakedness.  He and I found our way to the beach, and when we got there, the two jinn were in the water splashing around.  I don’t know if anybody could see them except us, but we didn’t have to acknowledge their existence if we didn’t want to.

We swam and played in the water for about an hour, then went back in to get ready for breakfast.  We were at the most northern end of Clearwater Beach, where a delightful little motel was situated.  Maji and I jogged down to the main part of town and found a nice restaurant where we had a delicious Southern breakfast, like I haven’t had in years.  Soft over-medium eggs, two huge sausage patties, two homemade biscuits with sausage gravy, a big glass of orange juice — and hot coffee with more muscles than Schwarzenegger and Ferrigno put together.  The waitress was all “Honey, this” and “Sweetie, that;” it really made me feel good - for a change. 

I looked across the table at Maji and said, “I really needed this!”  I knew Jamal and Arman could hear me.

After breakfast, we walked back up the beach and just waded in the water until we got our knees all wet, then headed back to the room for some rest and rejuvenation.  Maji and I got in some “us” time as we took advantage of the “DO NOT DISTURB” card on the door. 

Later in the afternoon, I wanted to take Maji somewhere he would never have experienced before – Joe’s Crab Shack.  I gave Jamal a choice – arrange a car for us or deliver us to my favorite Clearwater restaurant.  He selected the latter.  We showered, dressed in casual clothes and a moment later were at the edge of the parking lot at Joe’s Crab Shack right by the causeway into Tampa.  If you know the restaurant, you know the atmosphere and food; if not, try it sometime. 

{This is not a paid testimonial – just a personal comment!}

After dinner, we reappeared in our room to walk down the beach, watching the sun set over the Gulf of Mexico.  We sat on the sand and shared some “us” time, as two lovers should.  Since for us this was the middle of the night by our body-clocks, we went to bed to cuddle, snuggle, and just enjoy the feeling of a hard body against a hard body.

The next morning, we walked into town for breakfast, then back up the beach at the waters’ edge.  Some more “us” time in the room (read that as in the bed), then we needed to transport back to Bagdad.  Jamal was responsible for getting the money into the cases for us to deposit in the banks Monday.

Monday morning, Bagdad time, when I went into the office, I asked one of the computer whizzes for the name of another ultra-trustworthy whiz who could help me with a problem I was having.  I told him I wanted someone not associated with GNN so that there’s not even a hint of conflict of interest.  He said he would think about it during the day and get back with me tomorrow morning when he was on duty again.

That evening, Jamal and I whooshed off to the Bahamas and another banker meeting. 

This meeting was at the Royal Bank of Canada where I was going to deposit one and a half million US dollars.  My appointment was with Landon Ladue, who was a tall slender man probably in his mid-forties, very fit and quite handsome.  We went through with all the procedures, then I opened the case with one and one-half million US dollars for the cash deposit.  He asked an associate to accompany us to a counting machine to verify the amount.  One million five hundred thousand US dollars would be my deposit.  Throughout the entire meeting, there was no hint that he might be gay; Jamal can’t be slipping.  He also asked me to have a drink with him after the bank closed, and I accepted with pleasure. Must be a tradition with multimillionaire clients that after you open an account of such an amount, you’re invited for drinks and/or a meal.

* * * * *

Something I learned the next afternoon from Jamal was that my Tuesday appointment, Ethan Wilson, had met with Ladue for dinner Monday evening.  His description was virtually a streaming of the event.  He told me that I had just left Ladue when Wilson from BankAmerica Trust walked in.

* * * * *

“Ethan, over here.”

“Donnie, there you are.”

“Sorry you couldn’t be here earlier, so you could have met my new client, the GNN smoking hot newsman, Grant Richards.  He’s just left.”

“Grant Richards?  Your client?  I have an appointment with him tomorrow afternoon.”

“That’s odd.  He said he came into a rather large inheritance.  Maybe he’s spreading the wealth around for security.”

“Or do you think he’s doing research for a major exposé?”

“You think he knows about the two of us living together?”

“He’s not got any reason to suspect us of anything.  We’re doing nothing wrong that a major news network would want to blast gay friends, working for different banks.”

“We don’t share business secrets at home, but they don’t know that.  Maybe they’re grasping at straws.”

“We’ll see how it goes tomorrow.  Drinks and dinner with Mr. Richards tomorrow?

“Sounds first class to me.”

* * * * *

The following evening/afternoon, I was whooshed back to Nassau for my meeting with Mr. Wilson.

The receptionist at BankAmerica Trust ushered me into Ethan Wilson’s office, introducing us.

“Well, it really is the Grant Richards.  I was wondering.”

 I laughed, “In the flesh. How are you, Mr. Wilson?”

Ethan Wilson stood about six feet two inches and would weigh in at a good two hundred and ten pounds.  He was solid as a rock and I was getting some arousal in the lower region.  We shook hands and I thought he was going to crush my hand with his grip. 

“Woah! Somebody just got back from the gym and is still pumping iron!”

“Oh, so sorry.  I guess I was so excited to meet you I was over enthusiastic.  Please have a seat.”

“Thank you, Mr. Wilson.”

“Oh, please – Ethan.  May I call you Grant?”

“Of course, Ethan.  I get enough formalities with top echelon people in an interview.  I presume Landon told you why I’m here.”

“You know I talked with Donnie? – uh, Landon.”

“Ethan, I am a newsman.  I do have my sources.  And no, I am not doing an in-depth exposé on gays in banking.  The real reason I’m here is to deposit a lot of money I’ve come into in a variety of healthy investments.  My home account is with Bank of America in the United States, so it seems logical to put some of that money with your bank.  I have here one and a half million in American currency to open an account with you.  If you’d rather not handle the account, please refer me to another advisor.”

“Oh no, Mr. Richards – uh, Grant.  I’ll be more than happy to handle your account.  It was quite a surprise to —Landon and me that you would ask for the two of us.”

“My source picked the two of you, not only because of your expertise but also because he thought each of you and I would be comfortable working together.”

“Are — you — saying — you …?”

“No, I am not saying anything.  Only that he felt we would be compatible working together.  Now, shall we take care of the paperwork?

An hour later, all the paperwork had been completed, the money counted, and the full amount drawing interest.

“Grant, would you have time for a drink with Landon and me?  We like to relax a bit before going home, and when we have a major client, we can be hospitable.”

“I would love it.  I want to see his face when you tell him he doesn’t need to worry about my snooping.”

We both laughed, then left the bank and walked over to the same lounge as before.

Landon was already there and had ordered drinks for us.  We became relaxed and enjoyed the company.

It was about 5:30 p.m. local time and GNN was on the television in the lounge.  My report and interviews I had filed today came on the screen.  That got both of their attentions.  They could not believe I was on the air and sitting with them at the same time. 

“When did you do that report?” Landon asked.

“This morning in An Najaf.  We’re required to have our reports finished and sent to editing in time to be included in the five or six o’clock news United States Eastern Time.  The story I did yesterday morning was on last night’s news.”

“I don’t understand,” Ethan said.  “You were in Iraq yesterday morning and this morning, then here each afternoon?”

“How about a private jet, where I can eat, sleep, refresh myself while flying?  I can afford it now, you know.”

“Of course, you can,” they both said in sync.

We all laughed.  I told them I needed to head back to my real work since — my work here is finished.  I thanked them for their hospitality, and they had my contact number should they need me for anything.  Then I left, walked around the corner, and disappeared.

To be continued...

Posted: 08/31/18