The Contract

by John Concilio

Tim enjoyed the glances he was getting from pedestrians as he rode down the street in a limousine. They probably thought he was a famous movie star, he was thinking, glancing into the rear-view mirror and catching the chauffeur's eyes. The chauffeur quickly averted his eyes. Tim grinned, remembering.

"I am Charles, Mr. Critinger's chauffeur," the young man had announced when Tim opened the door to his apartment. Tim's first thought had to wonder about what other duties Charles performed for Critinger.

Tim had done some stunt work in a few pictures before landing a walk-on part, as a lifeguard, in a picture James Critinger was producing. The producer ogled Tim's body openly, mostly below the waist, then promptly ordered his director to give Tim a few lines to speak. Tim, who had been around the block several times, noted Critinger's look and instantly had his number. Still, he had been mildly surprised to get the phone call from the man so quickly...like two minutes after getting home that same day. After identifying himself, he had asked Tim if he was free for dinner that evening. Tim could only say, "Well I..." when Critinger said, "Fine. My chauffeur will pick you up at seven thirty." and hung up.

Twin fountains graced wither side of the wide entrance to Critinger's Beverly Hills home, angel statues in their midst. The limousine stopped and Charles was out in a flash to open the door for Tim. The door to the house opened at the same time.

"Good evening, Mr. Andrews," the servant said, warmly. "Mr. Critinger is waiting for you in the library. Right this way, please."

Where else but the library, Tim thought, wondering if he should have dressed formally. He had not had the chance to ask Critinger. He followed the servant past a large ornate grandfather clock just as it began to strike the hour of eight. The servant knocked lightly on a door and Tim heard a loud, "In!" The producer was standing a few feet from the door when Tim walked in.

"So happy you were free to come, Tim! Perhaps I should have given you proper notice but, you know, that's show biz."

Tim smiled. "Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Critinger. You have a beautiful..."

"James, Tim, James. We can dispense with formalities while in my home. Now then, what would you like to drink?"

"Thank you...I think Sco..."

"Some nice wine...okay?"

What a sow, Tim thought...never giving him a chance to finish saying anything. "Yes, fine, Mr. Crit...James."

Critinger snapped a finger and a servant was there in a second with a crystal decanter of white wine. Tim resisted a frown. He hated white wine.

"Sit down, Tim...no no, not there, here with me so I won't have to shout."

The seat Tim almost took was less than two feet away from the one he eventually sat down in next to Critinger.

"You are looking lovely tonight, Tim, although I must confess you look even better in that skimpy swimsuit you wear on the set."

Tim felt himself blushing. He tried to hide it with a smile while taking a quick sip of his wine. Lovely indeed, he thought. He hoped Critinger didn't think he was gay. Still... "I walk around my apartment with nothing on," he said. May as well play up to the old boy.

Critinger's eyes lit up. "Why you little rascal! I bet some of your neighbors enjoy that!"

"Well I..."

"I know...you pull the shades. What did you think of Charles?"

"Well I..."

"Handsome dude, isn't he? I thought you would be impressed. He is the exact opposite of you, Tim. He is dark, hairy, and you are so blond and hairless, I noticed on the set this morning. I love a contrast like that, don't you?"

Tim waited a moment to respond, expecting the producer not to give him a chance to anyway.

"Well, don't you?"

"Well I..."

"I mean, you know, I always love to see contrasts like that. Now then, to get down to a little business before dinner." He motioned to another man standing off to one side of the room who Tim hadn't even noticed. The man promptly approached with a manila folder in his hands. After handing it to Critinger, he nodded to Tim and left the room. Critinger moved even closer to Tim, thighs touching. Tim thought he was going to be sick...the awful wine and the closeness of Critinger.

"This is a copy of my proposed contract, Tim. You do know that I am an independent producer, don't you?"

"Well I..."

"The contract is for five years. I realize that such long-term contracts are no longer in vogue with big-name stars. However, I think you will find the terms very much to your liking and since I am going to invest a lot of money...I mean an awful lot of money, Tim, on making you a star, considering the fact you are just starting out, I do feel that I need some protection. Follow me so far?"

Tim nodded, holding back the excitement he was feeling.

"What I mean is...look at it this way...you star in a picture and maybe it becomes a big hit at the box office. If I had signed you up for the one picture only, hell, it might be the last I would see of you. Some other studio would grab you. Let your agent go through the contract and you can get back with me, say, in a couple of days."

"Well I..."

"Not enough time, perhaps? Three days then."

"I was going to say, Mr. Crit...James, that I don't have an agent."

"Oh. No problem. I'll set you up with a good one. Tim, believe me, you will be independently wealthy by the time this contract expires. Just glance through it a minute and look at the figures."

Tim did. He was impressed...elated and could hardly keep from shouting for joy. "They look good, ah...James. Thanks very much."

"Very good, Tim, although you don't appear to be very enthusiastic."

"Oh but I..."

Critinger grinned and squeezed Tim's thigh. "I know, Tim, I was only kidding. Let's say we have some dinner now."

Tim thought dinner was delicious although he wasn't sure what most of the food he ate was. Critinger did not bring up the contract while they dined. He talked about all the countries he had visited and the various types of food he enjoyed in each. Tim was sure all of the world capitols had been mentioned. The man was not modest, he knew, but he didn't care. He was going to make him rich and that was all that mattered. He had hopes that Critinger would dismiss him when dinner was finished. It was getting late. He silently prayed the man wasn't expecting to have him for dessert.

"Let us retire to the den, Tim. There are a few things I want to show you."

Tim hoped Critinger hadn't heard his sigh. Now it is coming, he thought. Damn! He followed him out of the room. He had been hoping for a tour of the house for he had seen very little of it. They passed several closed doors. Critinger finally stopped at one of them and used a key to open it. Tim was not surprised. He was very surprised, however, when Critinger pushed in a switch and several spot-lights beamed on, producing a stage effect. In the center of the lights, Charles, the chauffeur, was lying on a large circular type bed, totally naked! It took Tim a moment to recognize him without his clothes on. Critinger had been right, he and Charles were very different. Charles had a very hairy chest, stomach, and legs. He was well built, Tim admitted to himself, and hung like a horse. Charles smiled up at Tim while resting his hands under his head. Tim smiled back. What in the hell did Critinger have in mind? he wondered. A threesome? He hoped not. It made him a little sick just to think of Critinger nude. Finally he turned to Critinger and shrugged.

"Your chauffeur?"

"You recognized him, then?"

"With some difficulty, I will admit."

"No doubt. You are perhaps wondering what I have in mind." Tim knew it was a statement, not a question, so he said nothing. "Tim, I have few pleasures in life that I enjoy more than watching two young men, young studs like you and Charles, making out together. Neither one of you are gay, I know. However, sex is sex and we should all learn to enjoy it in any way we can. Charles gets paid very well for participating and you have already seen your contract. You may find having sex with another man repulsive and I can understand that. I am not asking you to do anything with Charles that you don't want to do . Kid stuff, you know, jerking each other off, is a big enough turn-on for me. Charles will do more so if you just want to lie back and let him do everything, fine...this being your first time and all. Any problems, Tim?"

Tim turned and looked at Charles again. He was fully erect now and Tim's eyes widened. It would take both of his hands to jerk him off, he thought. He was feeling good now that he knew Critinger wasn't going to be part of the party. Charles turned to his side as though he wanted Tim to see his small rounded buns.

"Well Tim?"

Tim shrugged. "No problem. I can handle it, James."

Critinger's face lit up. "Besides being beautiful, Tim, you are also very wise. Pay no attention to me. I'll be in the corner of the room there and you won't even be able to see me. Do your stuff, kid."

Tim stripped slowly, guessing that Critinger would enjoy it more...the anticipation. He glanced in the direction Critinger had retreated to and could barely make him out, sitting on a couch in the shadows. Once he was on the bed, under all those spot-lights, Critinger would become invisible, he knew. He turned back to Charles and walked slowly to the bed. He sat down, shivering for a moment. The satin sheets were cold. Charles reached up and pulled him down.

"Not a feather on you," Charles said..."I love that!"

Tim chuckled. "You've got enough on you for both of us."

"What do you do?" Charles asked him in a soft voice.

"Hands only, Charles...sorry. You?"

Charles frowned, then shrugged. "What's your pleasure?"

"Head...good head. Qualified?"

Charles sighed. "Never had any complaints. I see you're hard already. Are you a closet case?"

Tim smiled. "No closet...truth. I'm hard-up...didn't jerk off last night."

Charles had to laugh in spite of himself. He had been hoping for a little more but he knew Tim was being honest. He was certainly the best looking guy Critinger had ever set him up with. "Do you mind if I call you Tim?"

"That's my name."

"Enjoy, Tim."

In the darkened corner, Critinger stared. His mouth was open and he was drooling. He couldn't remember ever enjoying the scene more. He was going to make Tim one of Hollywood's biggest stars, he was certain.


Author Biography:

The two novels John Concilio has "completed" are still on a shelf waiting for rewrites or whatever. "I'm still working on short stories and when I am satisfied with them, you'll probably be seeing more."

For more stories by John Concilio, click here.


This story first appeared in the Volume 4, Number 4 (Summer 1990) issue of
Sign of the Times-A Chronicle of Decadence in the Atomic Age

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