Open Sesame
By:
Hank Horne
(© 2018-2019 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 35
Sunday morning was very busy, both at the Palace and The Lodge. The guests were preparing to ‘check out.’ Breakfast at both locations were buffet style. At the Palace, my family and friends were a bit nostalgic about leaving me here while they were returning to Chevy Chase. About half way through the meal, Dylan asked me if I would mind his singing a special song for my group of friends and me. Jamal told me that I should allow it – obviously he knew what was coming, so I agreed to it. Dylan spoke and signed what he had to say and the songs they would sing.
“Mr. Richards has given me permission to sing one of my favorite songs for you who are so special to him, and you who have become extra special to me,” Dylan aimed that last to Greta and Robbie. Three of the house staff backed him up with the song, “Bless This House.”
Bless this house, O Lord we
pray,
Make it safe by night and day . . .
Bless these walls so firm
and stout,
Keeping want and trouble out . . .
Bless the roof and chimneys
tall,
Let thy peace lie overall . . .
Bless this door that it may
prove,
Ever open,
To joy and love . . .
Bless these windows shining
bright,
Letting in God's Heavenly light,
Bless the hearth, ablazing there,
With smoke ascending like a prayer!
Bless the people here
within,
Keep them pure and free from sin . . .
Bless us all that we may be,
Fit O Lord to dwell with thee . . .
Bless us all that one day we
may dwell,
O Lord! With Thee! *
When he finished singing, I was in tears. I went over to him and gave him a big hug, thanking him for his thoughtfulness. He has a magnificent full, rich, baritone voice … and all of them must have perfect pitch because they sang a capella. I asked him if he had another song he could sing for us, and he said they did. So, I sat back down to listen to the quartet.
Quartet
When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, you have taught me to say,
It is well, it is well with my soul.
Dylan It is well …
Trio It is well …
Dylan with my soul,
Trio with my soul,
Quartet It is well, it is well with my soul.
Dylan It is well …
Trio It is well
Dylan with my soul,
Trio with my soul,
Quartet It is well, it is well with my soul. 20
The last line was sung very slowly. Then the four singers backed out of the dining room, with Dylan signing ‘Thank you very much’ to all of us as all of us in the room signed ‘Thank you very much’ in return.
Bev
Allen commented, “That performance was one of the most meaningful of the trip
here.” She got lots of agreement.
Millie added, “With people like that working here, this place cannot fail.”
Ginger agreed, “Grant, it’s nice to know there are such caring people working for you.”
“It makes me feel really good that we’ve been able to find qualified, nice guys to work with us,” I added. “But it all started when I met Jeff, Jennine and Majid. We became a team in the best sense of the word. While I’m in love with Majid, I also love Jennine and Jeff for being such great people to work with — but they also became good friends. Love you guys.”
“I didn’t know you could get mushy,” Jeff said to me. “I thought you were always the hard-ass newsman. Get the facts. Nothing but the facts.”
“Save that for Joe Friday,” I replied in my monotone, Jack Webb impression. “I may have been that way before I got to know Maji, but then everything changed. After all, what’s love got to do with it? Even the Grinch can have a heart!”
“How many clichés can you string together?” Jennine asked me.
“You want to energize me to keep going, and going, and going?”
The entire room said “NOOO!” together. {Laughter}
* * * * *
CODE GREEN CODE GREEN CODE GREEN
About two hours later, we got the green code from Dildar:
All the ladies have left the ranch! {And Elvis was never here!}
We set up the ‘traffic light’ codes for when visitors were at the facility. ‘Code Red’ means there are ladies on the property and all men must wear shorts or cut-offs to avoid embarrassing the ladies. ‘Code Yellow’ indicates there are visiting men at the facility and swimsuits or thongs are minimum covering. And ‘Code Green’ means there are only Crystal Rainbow people here and clothing of any kind is strictly optional. Of course, when deliveries are being made, or anyone has an appointment in Administration, then everyone goes to Code Yellow. If the appointment is a woman, then it obviously is Code Red. Front gate security is always properly dressed for any situation: moderately tight-fitting pants, usually bare chest, with the Security badge pinned through their left nipples, where they have been pierced. When they’re not on duty, they wear a standard barbell there.
At the Palace, the staff was busy cleaning up after the guests had left, and the rest of us were enjoying relaxing in the pool. Maji, Howie, Jim, Scotty and I were ‘skinny-dipping.’ Luther and Ryan were both on lifeguard duty. I was amazed at how well Jim and Howie were getting along. They both had toned-down their aggressions, but not their competitiveness. They raced in the water, played water-polo with the rest of us, and behaved almost like friends. Jim appeared to respect Howie’s being straight, and Howie seemed relaxed. It was a great way to release the tensions of the opening weekend. After a couple of hours in the water, I was ready for a nap, as were the others. Maji, Howie and I went upstairs, and Jim and Scotty went to their apartment. The three of us who stayed at the Palace went to bed – Maji and I together, Howie alone. {Poor guy, we would have welcomed him to join us — but, that may never cum to pass!}
The kitchen buzzed us at 5:30, letting us know supper would be in the staff dining room. I went around to Howie’s room to let him know he had a half-hour to get his bum downstairs if he wanted supper. Maji was just getting out of the shower so I took his place, although it’s large enough for three or four men to enjoy together. We were ready to go down in a few minutes.
The staff dining room had half-a-dozen round tables, each seating six people. There was no established place for anyone to sit, so at some time or other, everyone got to sit with someone different. Because we frequently are nude all the time, chair covers are changed after every meal. This was the first time since our guests arrived that all of us had eaten together. Howie was late arriving, and he wore his Bermuda shorts. When he walked in, the rest of us took our napkins and put them on our laps – as if choreographed.
“What the hell is this?” Howie exclaimed.
“If you don’t want to reveal your shortcomings, we don’t want to show our assets!” Maji quipped. That got a good laugh.
“Thank God for small blessings!” Howie replied and took a seat. That got more laughter.
After dinner, Maji, Howie and I dressed and went over to the club. There were some customers eating in the diner, and more already at the bar. The three barbacks were wearing their black spandex biking short-shorts and tie-dyed, fish-net tops. A couple of the dancers were mixing with the customers already, wearing their tie-dyed Bikinis. Both barbacks and dancers were promoting the free lifetime memberships one-night only. There was one bartender for the early part of the night. Another would come on duty at 8:00, and the third at 10:00. The first one would leave at midnight, the second at 2:00 a.m. and the third would close and ensure everything was ready for the next night.
This was the first night the six dancers started with their regular routines and not a song and dance routine as the past three nights. They were dressed in regular jeans and shirts and proceeded through their stripping down to the T-bars. After their 20-minutes on stage they came out into the audience with bikinis on over their T-bars. Their stripping was as smooth as any I’ve ever seen. They had no problems with getting their clothes to slide off easily. At midnight, when the choreographed show was to take place, two of the dancers came on stage in Spandex bikinis. They each had a small squeeze bottle of baby oil which they used to squirt oil on the other. Then they began rubbing the oil all over each other in a muscle-worship performance. The exotic and erotic music playing accented the performance. They didn’t need to ‘go for the goods;’ the audience was eating—it—up. The men were tossing bills on the stage in appreciation of the dancers. Maji, Howie, Scotty, Jim and I were sitting at a table, and we were about ready to tip them too! The finale of their show had each taking a washcloth and wiping oil off each other, with special attention to their most prominent feature. When it was over, they took their bows, scooped up the money lying on the stage, and knelt for the crowd to place more bills in their very brief covering.
Howie left after the show because he had an early date with Juana to tour Underground Atlanta the next day.
When the two-man show was finished, the dancers continued the solo performances until 2:45 a.m. The bartender gave a “Last Call” and all six dancers came out and sat around the edge of the stage to have a more personal access for those customers who were still there. The lights in the club were turned off, except the ones over the bar, and only some “Black Lights” aimed at the stage were on. All the dancers had on Day-Glo G-strings or T-bars, and the guests got up-close-and-personal with the group at the stage. At 3:00 a.m., the lights came back on, the dancers kissed the customers and left the stage. The bar was closed and the barbacks were cleaning up.
My group spoke to the DJ, bartender, dancers and barbacks, thanking them for giving us a very successful “First Night!”
* * * * *
Maji and I slept late Monday morning and didn’t show our faces to anyone else until we took care of some personal business just between the two of us. He rolled over on top of me so that he could conveniently hide my morning woody where we both wanted it. I was providing enough lube to ensure easy movement for the driest pisston. While holding me under him, and working his charms with his mouth and tongue, Maji guided me into the deep recesses of his inner being. Sliding himself lower and lower on my Leaning Tower, Maji worked his way to the base until I was fully inside him. Then he began a rhythm with his sphincter that affected L.G. (Little Grant) as much as all the pumping in the world could accomplish. At the same time, he used his hand to manipulate my nipple – pinching, rubbing, flicking, squeezing, twisting – repeating the process while flexing his ass-muscle to stimulate my flow of joy juice. When I released his tongue to get some breath, Maji moved his mouth down to my other nipple and alternated licking and biting it. By this time, I was gasping for breath, while involuntarily pumping the flow of my love potion from the depths of my balls to the fountain of release. I tried to ebb the flow for a while, but he would have none of it. He kept up the flexing and releasing, changing tempo to throw off my concentration. Finally, I had to relax a moment and he pulled every ounce of liquid I had in me into the depths of his bowels, draining me of all I had to give him plus the energy to produce any more. Maji collapsed on top of me, laying his head against my shoulder, then rolled off onto my outstretched arm.
“I love you,” I whispered to him.
“I can prove I love you more,” he replied.
“How can you do that?” I asked.
“I still have you inside me,” he answered. “And I’m going to hold onto you for as long as possible. You’re locked away inside and can’t get out until I let you out!”
“You think I’ll last nine months inside you?” I quizzed.
“I’ll be ready for a repeat long before that.”
“Me too. This is a wonderful journey we’ve embarked on, and it would never have happened if circumstances had been different.”
Back to the kissy-kissy and recouping from the morning workout – until Mother Nature insisted we get our lazy bodies out of bed.
To be continued...
19
Words and Music by Helen Taylor
And May H. Morgan (a.k.a. Brahe), 1927
20 Songwriters: DON WYRTZEN, P P BLISS, HORATIO G. SPAFFORD © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group,
CAPITOL CHRISTIAN MUSIC GROUP
Posted: 03/01/19