Trials and Triumphs II:
A Final Victory

By: Morris Henderson
(Copyright 2015 by the author)

Edited by: Gerry Young

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

NOTE: This is a sequel to “Trials and Triumphs” (in which a young gay man overcame multiple crises to achieve happiness).  Reading the earlier story, while recommended, is not essential.

1.  Storm Clouds Threaten

The phone rang just after ten on a Saturday night, which was unusual.  The residents in the condo, Eric Mathews and Tim Watson, rarely received phone calls at such a late hour.  It was also unwelcome because the two men were blissfully snuggling in bed after an extremely satisfying period of loving sex.

“Who could that be at this hour?” asked Tim.

“I haven’t a clue,” Eric replied.

“It might be a client,” Tim added.  “Maybe something went wrong and he’s calling to complain.”

“Perhaps you’re right.  I’d better answer it.”

Eric was the owner of an escort service based in Houston.  All escorts were carefully investigated before they were accepted as members of the team.  New clients were also thoroughly vetted before booking an appointment with a client.  With all those precautions, there had been no serious problems.  Clients were consistently satisfied with the services they received.  If a client was calling to complain, the reputation of the agency demanded that the problem be resolved.  Not to do so would risk having the problem reported to local law enforcement authorities who would not hesitate to shut down the agency and prosecute all the “degenerate, queer prostitutes” associated with the “filthy operation.”

Eric picked up the bedside phone and said, “Hello.”

The caller, Rick Howard, was one of the better escorts in the agency but the tone of his voice clearly communicated distress bordering on panic.  “Eric!  I’ve been arrested.  I’m in jail.  I need bail money.  If I don’t post bond tonight, I’m stuck here ‘till Monday.  Can you come bail me out?  I’ll reimburse you as soon as I can get to my bank.”

“What’s the charge?” Eric asked, afraid that his suspicion was correct.  Rick had a gig with a new client that evening.  The client had easily passed the rigorous vetting but it appeared that what had been a constant fear had become a reality: a sting operation.

Rick didn’t answer.  Instead a new voice said, “This is Sergeant Davis.  Your cousin was caught soliciting sex.  With a MAN!  That’s prostitution.  And, I might add, disgusting.  If you’re here before midnight with $500 cash and you agree to have him in court on Monday morning, we can release him into your custody.”

Eric had no choice.  “Where is he being held?”

“The Reisner Street Jail.”

“I’ll be there within an hour.”

He briefed Tim, his lover, on the situation while hurriedly putting on his clothes.  Tim also got dressed after saying, “I’m coming with you.”

“No need for that,” Eric replied.

“Maybe so.  But I’m the one who recruited Rick.  And mentored him through his first few weeks of work.  I kinda feel responsible for whatever happens to him.”

“As you wish, Luv.  Just wait a minute while I get the cash.”

On the drive to the jail, neither of them could understand why Rick had been arrested ... unless he violated the primary rule of the agency: “NEVER be the first to offer or ask for sexual contact with a client.  Only AFTER the client EXPLICITLY requests sex may you agree to provide what the client wants.”  The young men working for the agency were frequently reminded of the rule and the possible consequences of violating the rule.  Invariably, it was emphasized to anyone servicing a new client.  While the prohibition technically applied to all assignments, it was generally understood that it was unnecessary if the client was a steady customer.  Could Rick have been so careless—or stupid—to have forgotten the standard protocol?  It seemed that he was smart enough to pretend to call his “cousin” ... IF he did that to protect the agency.

The aging, overweight desk sergeant sat behind a barred window.  He looked up to see two men enter the small, dimly lit lobby that had only a bench as furniture and growled, “Whatcha want?”

Eric, trying to ignore the discourtesy of the old man, said, “We’re here to post bail for Rick Howard.”

“Yeah,” the uncivil official said, scowling.  “That’ll be the fag we just brought in.  You his cousin?”

“Yes, Sir.  I’m Eric Mathews.”

“I’d be ashamed to admit having a queer cousin.  And you should be, too.  Sit tight while I fetch his paperwork.”

The grumpy sergeant fumbled through a stack of papers on his desk and pulled out the arresting detective’s report.  Glancing up at the visitors, he asked, “You got the five hundred dollars?”

Eric handed him the money through the bars of the window.  The jailor counted it twice before writing out a receipt, which he gave to Eric along with another form.  “Sign this,” he commanded.  “It’s your acceptance of custody and guarantee that you’ll have him in court on Monday.”

Eric signed the release and handed it back.

The desk sergeant then picked up the phone, punched a few buttons, and said (in a decidedly less offensive tone), “Bring out the fag, Rick Howard.  His cousin has posted bail.”  Without another word—not so much as a “have a seat, it’ll take a little while”—he went back to shuffling papers on his desk.

Eric and Tim sat on the bench.  Both had opinions about the attitude of the desk sergeant or his ignoring of the second part of “protect and serve.”  But they wisely chose not to discuss the unpleasant reception.  They would surely be overhead and risk anger and retaliation from the bigoted police officer.

Twenty minutes later, a young police officer entered the lobby, with Rick, and said with a pleasant smile, “He’s free to go but must appear in court Monday morning at nine.  In the meantime, do your best to see that he doesn’t proposition any other men.”

“You can count on it,” Eric replied.

As they left the building, Rick gushed, “Thanks, Eric ... for bailing me out.  And thank you, Tim, for all the help you’ve given me.”

Eric, perhaps infected with the desk sergeant’s surliness, snapped, “You screwed up, Rick.  You’ve now got a police record.  You better pray that it doesn’t affect the Agency.”

“That’s the last thing I would do,” Rick replied contritely.  “The police don’t know anything about the business we’re in.  All they know is that I offered myself for sex, which amounts to prostitution.  I gave them no hint that I was working for you.”

“That’s reassuring, Rick.  But I’m taking you to my place.  We’re going to have a very long talk about what you did and did not say and do tonight.”

As the trio got into Eric’s car, Rick began to explain what led to his arrest.  But Eric cut him off by firmly saying, “Later, Rick.  I want to hear the story but I want to observe how you tell it.  And be warned.  If you start giving me a load of shit, I will read it in your face, your body language, and subtle clues in your speech.”

Tim recognized that Eric was overstating his skill but also recognized that it was a tactic to intimidate Rick into being brutally honest.  He decided to support his lover and said, “Believe it, Rick.  He’s got an almost superhuman ability to spot lies and deception.”

Rick had decided earlier to embellish his explanation to minimize his mistakes, but what he just heard about Eric’s ability to detect deception had a profound and disturbing effect on him.  He was now convinced that glossing over his errors of judgment would not minimize his punishment but would make the consequences more severe.  He sat in the back seat of the car quietly while the dread of confessing his errant behavior grew.

The rest of the drive back to Eric and Tim’s condo was without any conversation.

They settled into the living room just before midnight.  “Okay, Rick,” Eric began.  “Tell us what happened.”

Rick stared at the floor for a few moments.  Raising his eyes to meet the gaze of both Eric and Tim, he began to tell his story.  “It started out as usual.  I met the client at the hotel’s restaurant.  He was much younger than I expected.  Very handsome.  We had an interesting conversation during dinner.  He suggested a wine with the meal but I declined because it’s against Agency rules.  While waiting for the meal and while we ate, he seemed genuinely interested in my background.  He seemed impressed by my college studies and plans for a career.  Because he asked so many questions, I had little or no chance to find out anything about him ... beyond, of course, the fact that he was attractive, personable, and a delightful change from the usual sort of client: horny old men interested in nothing beyond a romp in bed.  Most clients want to get dinner over with and take me to their hotel room.  But this guy seemed to be in no hurry to get what he paid for.  For some odd reason that made me like him more.”

Rick paused before continuing.  “Eventually, however, he said he had a book, a novel, in his room that, because of my college major in astronomy, I might be interested in.  He had read it and thought I would enjoy it.  Of course, I knew the real reason to get me into his room—most clients simply say something like ‘let’s go to my room.’  But his offer to give me something I might like was just another sign of genuine interest in me ... as a person ... and not just the service I could provide.” 

Rick paused again.  The continuation of the account of the evening’s events, so carefully planned with appropriate deletions and embellishments, had to be scrapped.  Fear of being caught in a lie and escalating his punishment demanded the ‘truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.’ 

“With other clients, I sometimes imagine them naked but it’s not arousing.  With this gentleman—yes, a genuine gentleman—my imagination was not mere curiosity.  It was more like desire ... and impatience to get into bed with him.  Are you getting the picture, guys?  I was becoming more and more attracted to this guy.”

Rick stopped talking and starred at the floor again.

Tim broke the silence.  “Remember back when you joined the agency, Rick?  I told you it was essential to avoid any emotional attachment to a client.  And the complications that causes?”

“Yeah,” Rick responded.  “I’m to regard them as customers, not companions.  I thought about that following dinner and in his hotel room.  But the warning took a back seat to my admiration of him as a person ... to be perfectly honest ... my growing affection for him.”

“By affection, Tim countered, “you mean lust.”

“NO!  Okay....Lust was a component.  But far more important was my respect for his personality, his empathy, his character.  All those things are what I’ve longed for in a partner.  And he had them in spades.”

“But it was his body you craved at the moment?” Eric asked.

Rick paused to frame a response, one that would be truthful and avoid being trapped in a lie but would still accurately describe his state of mind at the time.  “I admit that having sex with him was enticing.  But ... believe me on this ... the dominant feeling was to show my respect and admiration through sex.” 

Rick scanned the faces of his interrogators—for signs of acceptance of or doubt—about his professed feelings at the time.  But he couldn’t interpret their expressions either way.

“Go on,” Eric urged.  “What’s the rest of the story?”

“He handed me the book.  I started to scan the jacket cover.  When I looked up, he was taking off his sport coat, tie, and shirt.  My eyes locked on his magnificent chest and abdomen.”

He noticed my stare and said, “Sorry.  I hope you don’t mind my getting comfortable.”

“‘Not at all,’ I stammered.  I guess it was at that point that I lost all reasoning.  I said something like, ‘It looks like you’re getting ready for what I’m here for.’  He asked what I meant.  And I said, with no thought to the Agency rules, ‘I’m ready to show you a good time.  A time that you’re bound to thoroughly enjoy.  I give a superb blow job if that’s your preference.  Or you can fuck me to your heart’s content.’  He looked me straight in the eye and asked, ‘Are you offering sex?’  ‘Of course!’ I replied.  ‘Sex in return for my paying you money?’ he asked.  Without thinking, I said, ‘Stupid question.  You’ve already paid to have me in bed with you.  I’m at your service.’”

Eric and Tim both frowned at the blatant breach of the Agency’s primary rule.

Rick already knew that he had screwed up royally.  His shoulders drooped, his eyes fell to the floor again, and he tried to prepare himself for his boss’s anger.  But the silence in the room was crushing.

Eric broke the silence.  “And that’s when he revealed he was a cop and arrested you?”

“Yes,” Rick mumbled.

Another long silence.

“Thanks,” Eric said.  “For being honest.  And for acknowledging that you used poor judgment.  I don’t have to tell you that I’m disappointed in you.  I’m going to have to think long and hard about what to do next.  Only one thing is certain.  You WILL show up in court on Monday morning.  To make sure you do AND to support a loyal, competent member of our team—up to this evening—I’ll pick you up at eight on Monday and go to court with you.  In the meantime, I have a lot to consider about the situation, how to handle the possible repercussions on the Agency, and your future as part of the team.   Right now I’m taking you home.”

When Eric returned from taking Rick home, he and Tim discussed the situation for almost two hours, focusing primarily on what to do to or for Rick and on limiting the potential damage to the Agency.  There were a number of disagreements between the two lovers.  Tim’s compassion and willingness to forgive Rick was often at odds with Eric’s sense of urgency to protect the viability of the Agency.  The differences in perspective never led to arguments but were discussed rationally—as was typical of the openness and candor in their relationship.  As it approached two in the morning, they had not decided on the best course of action.  They agreed to postpone the discussion and go to bed.

2. Judgment Day

At eight on Monday morning, Eric and Tim picked up Rick and accompanied him to the arraignment in court.  On the drive to the courthouse, Eric informed Rick of what he would do to help.  “First, we will ask for a continuation to allow time to secure legal counsel.  Second, I will pay for a lawyer.  You’ll need expert representation if you’re to escape with a minimum penalty.  And to shield the Agency from any problems.  The lawyer could, for example, persuasively argue that the incident had an undeniable element of entrapment.”

“What’s entrapment?” Rick asked.

“I can’t give you the legalese definition but essentially it’s manipulating a person or situation with the purpose of inducing an otherwise law-abiding citizen to act contrary to established law.  For example, it could be argued that the client on Friday night was unusually cordial toward you, which could be interpreted as a tactic to gain your trust.  The clincher, however, was partially undressing in the hotel room.  That was clearly inducement to a young man who, up to that point, believed that his only duty was to provide company during dinner.”

“Will that get me off the hook, then?” Rick asked.

“Honestly, I don’t know.  But there’s more in your favor.  Your stellar performance in college and complete lack of prior involvement with law enforcement could help.  Depending on the lawyer’s advice, he could call a number of people to be character witnesses.  Courts are generally lenient with first-time offenders.  It could be enough to secure probation instead of a fine or jail time.  Perhaps even a dismissal of the charge.”

“So that would mean I won’t have a police record?”

“I’m not sure.  The lawyer can answer that question.  Finally, Rick, you owe Tim huge thanks since he consistently and persuasively argued in support of you.  As a result of his support, I’ve decided to continue your association with the Agency ... but with a six-month probationary period.  Tim has more confidence in you than I do but I have enough to keep you on board.”

Rick’s apprehension over his future was reduced although he was still concerned about what the court would do to him.  “Thanks, guys,” he gushed.  “I know I screwed up and deserve to be punished for it.  But I promise on all that’s sacred that I will never ... ever ... let you down again.”

“I believe you, Rick.  At least in the sincerity of your promise.  But, to be fair, I have to tell you that I’ll be watching you carefully for the foreseeable future.”

Thanks to a sympathetic judge—or perhaps one burdened with an unusually large number of cases—Rick was granted a continuance with a new court date in three weeks.

It seemed that the problems, if not completely solved, had not been as dire as feared.  Rick was, at least for a while, free to continue his schooling and part time work for the Agency.  Eric was pleased that the threat to him and the Agency was not as ominous as it once seemed to be.  Tim repeatedly expressed his gratitude to Eric for helping Rick through the ordeal but his thanks became redundant so he said, “Enough, Tim!  I’m helping Rick, but what I’m doing is mostly to protect the business.  And,” he added with a grin, “To continue living with the man I love.”

The two lovers kissed long and passionately, which resulted in a surge of hormones in both of them.   The result, although it was nearly noon, was a long, erotic period of love-making in bed.  After extraordinarily satisfying orgasms, the cuddled together blissfully.  About half an hour later, Eric said, “Call it paranoia or simply prudent caution but I think we should anticipate the possibility of the business becoming involved.  So far, it’s been kept out of the mess Rick is in but just to be safe we should do whatever is necessary to shield ourselves from possible investigation by authorities.”

“What do you mean?” Tim asked.

“First of all, we should ‘sanitize’ the computer system.  All financial records and all client information must be transferred to encrypted files on an external hard drive and then purged from the computer.  And the hard drive must be hidden somewhere.”

That and responding to a few calls from clients consumed most of the afternoon.  While transferring the client information, Tim found the name and vetting results for Rick’s weekend assignment.  “Do you want to save it?” Tim asked.

“Yes.  But first add a note that he’s black-balled for any future service.”

A regular client of the Agency, a lawyer, recommended another attorney, Paul Stephan.  The cost of legal help was very expensive but necessary to help Rick and, more importantly, to protect the Agency.  Stephan proved to be very competent ... and earned his fee.  Based on a number of extensive, probing, and confidential interviews with Rick, he was successful in convincing the judge to dismiss the charge.  The evening following the judge’s ruling, Eric, Tim, and Rick celebrated by dining at an upscale restaurant.

Eric’s fretting over repercussions to the Agency gradually gave way to the normality of managing the business and enjoying the extraordinary pleasure of loving and being loved by Tim.  Until ....

... The doorbell rang at ten in the morning just two weeks after Rick’s ordeal with the courts.  Tim opened the door to find two men.  The taller, slightly older man asked, “Are you Eric Mathews?”

“No, but he lives here.”

“Is he here now?”

“Yes.  Come in and I’ll tell him you’re here.”  He ushered the strangers into the living room and went into the kitchen to tell his lover that he had guests.  Eric immediately went into the living room.

“Eric Mathews?” the taller man asked.

“Yes.”

“I’m Detective Swanson.  My partner is Sergeant Wilkins.  We have information that you operate an organization that provides what you call escort service but in reality the services your employees provide is homosexual sex.  Is that correct?”

Eric’s heart skipped a beat.  To gain time to form an answer, he said, “Pardon my lack of hospitality.  Please sit down.  Make yourselves comfortable.  Then I’ll answer all your questions.  Eric and Tim sat on the sofa.  The visitors remained standing.  Eric gestured to the two easy chairs and repeated his invitation, “Please.”  The two men, with obvious reluctance, sat down.

“Do I operate an organization that provides company for men who are lonely and don’t like to dine, attend a theater performance, or sporting event alone?  Yes.  There are a few young men, all in their 20s, on whom I can call to provide an evening’s company and conversation.  Are they employees?  No.  The clients will buy them a nice meal and typically offer a gratuity to the young man for the evening’s camaraderie.  Some are college students who need a little extra cash to pay for their education.  Some are interested in making potentially useful contacts with successful men—a useful although unusual way of networking that can lead to career opportunities.  Do they provide sexual favors to the men?  That’s NOT a requirement.  Nor an expectation.  If—on the rare occasion—they may do so, it’s entirely consensual for both parties.”

The two men glanced at each other.  The Detective then said, “Interesting story.  But it doesn’t match the information we have.  For example, one of your employees, Rick Howard....”

“Excuse me, Sir, but he’s not an employee.  He’s a personable young man and a college student needing a little extra cash for school.”

“That’s one of the things that doesn’t agree with our information.  His comments to the detective strongly suggested that he was on your payroll.”

“I wasn’t there to hear his comments.  Were you?  No.  So all you have is that the arresting detective’s report ... which, by the way, was discredited in court because the whole incident was determined to be a sting operation.  Moreover, the detective assumed the identity of a recently deceased person to schedule the appointment with Mr. Howard.  I don’t know whether that’s illegal but it certainly is unethical.  And it casts doubt on his testimony in court.  Rick Howard is NOT an employee.  Nor was he instructed by me to provide sexual favors.”

“Nevertheless, I want to see any records you have relative to your ‘clients,’ the men who work for you, your finances, and any information you have relative to the expectations of ‘services’ provided by the escorts.”

“I would be happy to provide whatever records I have,” Eric replied but paused.  “As soon as you bring a court subpoena.”

The visitors suddenly realized that they were unprepared for the interrogation.  They had not obtained a subpoena.  And their expressions revealed their frustration.  Moreover, they recognized that in the time it took to secure a subpoena, Eric and Tim could relocate or destroy all incriminating evidence.  They had made a serious mistake and could see no way to rectify the error.  They stood and prepared to leave.  Eric and Tim escorted them to the door.  Before leaving, the lead Detective said, “May I inquire about what you guys do?  And how you can afford to live in comparative luxury if not by selling sex?”

“I charge a processing fee for my efforts in linking someone with an appropriate escort.  The fee is not much but it adds up.  Tim is an accomplished painter and sculptor.  His work sells for ... let’s say tidy sums ... to discriminating customers.  And—if I may anticipate your next question—all our income is reported and we both pay taxes on our income.  Is there anything else you want to know?”

The investigators left without another word but with profound regrets over botching the investigation.

Tim closed the door, turned to Eric and said, “You handled that beautifully.”  Then, laughing, he added, “I’ve never seen you lie so convincingly.”

“Do you think they’ll be back?” Eric asked.

“Who knows?  I doubt it.  But we’ll have to continue being careful.”

“I agree.  It will be inconvenient to keep our records encrypted and hidden but it’s the only sensible thing to do.”

3. Course Change

Having redoubled their efforts to ensure “under the radar” operations, Eric and Tim lived happily together and enjoyed steadily increasing success: Eric managed the Agency’s business while Tim’s reputation as an innovative and talented artist grew.

Rick became one of the stars of the Agency with not another lapse of judgment but with outstanding feedback from a number of very satisfied clients.  When he graduated from college, moved out of state for graduate school, and left the Agency, it was a significant loss but there was a spectacular going-away party attended by the entire team.

A phone call several days later took them by surprise.

Tim answered the phone. “Hello.”

“Is this Eric Mathews?”

“No.  Hold on.  I’ll get him.”  Tim walked to the balcony of the condo and said, “Phone call for you.  Probably a client.”  He handed the phone to Eric.

 “Hello.  This is Eric Mathews.”

“I’m Jacob Warren from the office of Schultz Law Firm.  Were you acquainted with Ted Connors?”

Eric was speechless for a moment.  That was a name from his past and associated with generally negative emotions.  He had lived with Ted Connors in luxury but with obligations to provide sex to his middle-aged “Sugar Daddy.”  The man’s appetite for sex was insatiable but there was never any meaningful relationship.  He was considerate but showed no genuine affection.  He provided whatever Eric wanted (fine clothes and food) but his single purpose was carnal gratification.  There was no expression of any emotional attachment.  Eric escaped his indentured servant status when his benefactor was caught concealing information about Eric’s father’s death and, far more grievously, failing to divulge that he was Eric’s biological father as a result of an extra-marital affair.  That was inexplicable.  How could a man not show love to his own son?  The relationship was incestuous, which made his total lack of affection all the more intolerable.  Eric left and never looked back.

“Yes, I knew him many years ago.”

“And you lived with him for a short time?”

“Yes.”

“Finally!  I’ve found the right Eric Mathews.  I’ve been trying for weeks.  What is your date of birth?”

The question rang an alarm in Eric’s mind.  “I’d prefer not to give out personal information to a stranger.  Why are you asking?”

“Just to positively verify your identity.  I recognize why you are reluctant but I assure you I’m not trying to steal your identity.  My purpose is to tell you that Ted Connors passed away.  My condolences for the loss of your friend.”

Eric felt like saying, ‘Don’t be sorry.  The world is better without him in it.’  But instead, he replied, “That’s too bad.  But why are you contacting me?”

“Because you are a major beneficiary in his will.  He has directed that his home, all its furnishing, and his three vehicles be left to you plus a sizable portfolio valued well into six digits.”

Eric couldn’t believe what he was hearing and blurted out, “Is this some kind of sick practical joke?  Who the hell are you really?”

“It’s no joke.  You can verify what I’m saying by contacting the Probate Division of Denton County Court.  If you prefer, we can FedEx copies of the will and the probate documents to you.”

Still suspecting some sort of deranged joke, Eric replied, “I’m calling your bluff.  Send me the documents.”  He hung up abruptly.

It was not a joke.  The documents arrived the next day.  In the meantime, Eric briefed Tim on the call, voiced his skepticism about its legitimacy, and expressed total disbelief that Ted Connors would include such a generous bequest in his will.

“Assuming it’s legit, what will you do with the windfall,” Tim asked.

“I don’t know.  Except that one thing is certain—IF what I heard on the phone is true.  I will sell the house.  And everything in it.  There are too many painful memories associated with the place.”

“I understand,” Tim replied.  “Your time with that guy was probably the worst of the many ordeals you lived through.”

“Here’s an idea that’s been percolating in my head for some time.  Now ... maybe ... it’s possible to do something about it.  How would you like to tour Europe?  Visit all the art museums with works by the old masters.  Take some time to sightsee.  Soak up different cultures.  Get away from it all.”

“But what about the Agency?” Tim asked.

“Sell it!  Lock, stock, and barrel.  Chet has already told me that he’s about burned out on servicing clients and that he would be interested in buying the business if I should decide to retire or just pack up and leave.”

Tim pondered the possibility for a while before saying, “Chet is a good man.  He would do a good job.  And he is beyond the typical age of the rest of the team.”

After a few weeks of handling details of assuming control of the inheritance, subleasing the condo to Chet, transferring ownership of the Agency to him, and making plans for when and where to go on their tour of Europe, two happy lovers boarded a plan for Rome.

The End

Posted: 06/05/15