Three days of heartbreak and frustration. More and more, Jarod
was realizing that he was not unique in having lost his family, the life
he should have had. The world was full of lost souls, it seemed,
and a considerable number came through the doors of Derrick &
Jefferson, Inc. - Confidential Investigations.
Jarod was filing, a job that should have been easy, mind-numbing
even, except he kept reading the files. Lost children, lost parents,
lost loves. Jarod passed a weary hand over his eyes. Part of him
felt that he needed to pick one, get started, bring relief and closure
to at least one family, but he couldn't choose. There were so many
of them.
"The world is too much with me," he murmured as he resolutely
closed a folder and stuffed it in the correct place.
"What was that, Jarod?" Shelynn, the office manager, was
standing behind him. In the few short days of working in this
office, Jarod already knew he would miss her kindly strength, her
ready compassion, and her earthy humor.
"Oh, some poetry about how sometimes things are just too much."
He smiled at her, but the frown lines between his brows did not
ease.
"Jarod, I hate to say this - especially since you've only been here
three days - but, honey, you need a vacation."
"A vacation." Jarod widened his eyes at her in inquiry.
"You know, somewhere different, relaxing," She motioned to the
freezing drizzle outside the window that looked onto the gray city
street. "Fun in the sun."
"Fun in the sun," Jarod tasted the words. He felt a sudden strong
pull to do something totally self-centered and irresponsible.
"Maybe, I should -"
Suddenly there was a screaming sob from Karin Jefferson's office,
and Ms. Jefferson opened the door, and called to Shelynn. "Could
you get Mrs. Daniels some hot tea, Shelynn? She isn't feeling
well."
Jarod could see the woman behind his boss, weeping into her
hands, a man standing behind her. He was patting her shoulder
ineffectually, his own face a twisted mask of grief.
Jarod swallowed. This was part of the job here. Sometimes the
news was anything but good. He had quickly grown somewhat
accustomed to this, and trusted the staff here to do their best.
Jarod had turned back to his files, when he heard Mrs. Daniels sob
her son's name.
"Kyle, Kyle, oh God, my baby, my son."
"Sharon, we don't know that he isn't all right. After all, Ms.
Jefferson," the man who appeared to be Mr. Daniels, nodded
towards the woman at the door. "said that Kyle was probably still
alive. That he was probably all right."
"But it's like a cult!" Mrs. Daniels practically screamed. "He
needs to be deprogrammed!"
Caught by the name, Kyle, Jarod walked over to stand by the
door. "What is like a cult?" he asked Ms. Jefferson.
"It's not like we object to his lifestyle. We love him for who and
what he is, not what he's not," Mrs. Daniels was becoming
incoherent. "But this, they must have kidnapped him, drugged him,
hypnotized him, something!"
"Who took him?" Jarod's interest was piqued. Maybe this was
the case that needed him most. At the back of his mind was the
possibility that here was a Kyle he could save. He ignored the
savage ache that wrenched his heart at the thought of his dead
brother in order to attend to the case at hand.
Karin made a shushing gesture with her hand, took the tea that
Shelynn brought her and shut the door. The office staff listened
grimly as the choking sobs became fewer and at last stopped.
“Shelynn, what is going on?” Jarod walked over to the office
manger’s desk and sat down in the chair beside it.
Her large brown eyes were moist with unshed tears. “Oh, it’s
pitiful, Jarod, just pitiful. They have been looking for their son for a
couple of weeks now, mostly on their own, then they came to us.
Karin,” she jerked her head to the closed door, “discovered what
happened to him almost right away.” She picked up her own mug
of tea and looked into it. “He’s gone off with some people who
promised him a good time and easy money.” She looked back up
at Jarod, her eyes suddenly fierce. “I tell you what, Jarod. When
something seems too good to be true, it usually is.”
“But -”
The door to the office opened again and the Daniels walked out
together, holding each other. Both were bent, battered by their
son’s fate. Karin Jefferson followed behind them, clutching the
case folder, face tight with compassion.
“If I find out anything else,” she began.
With a dignity born of pain, Mrs. Daniels turned to face her.
“What else is there? Our son has been taken, has given himself
into the hands of people who will hurt him. He isn’t even in the
country anymore, you said. What can we do? Even if we found
him, would he want to come home?”
“I don’t know.” The words hurt to say, and Jarod winced in
sympathy for Karin.
“Thank you, Ms. Jefferson,” Mr. Daniels tugged at his wife’s arm.
“Come on, Sharon, let’s go home. Let’s just go home.”
Sighing, Karin watched them go. As the door closed she shut her
eyes and began to curse fluently under her breath. Finally running
out of breath, she opened her eyes and looked around.
“Here, Jarod. File this.” She handed him the Daniels case folder.
“Where do I file it?”
“Under Solved, dammit. It’s as solved as we can make it.”
As Jarod took the file from her, he had already made up his mind
as to his actions. ‘It isn’t as solved as I can make it,’ he mentally
promised to Karin, to the Daniels', and to Kyle, wherever he was.
Alexandria, VA
June 3, 1998
Jarod stood across the street from the Zap Club and studied the
men that were coming and going in pairs and small groups. He
could hear the live band and an occasional shouted greeting when
the doors opened and he wondered if this was such a good idea.
His research, hurried as it was, had told him that Kyle and at least
three other men had last been seen at the club within the last eight
weeks. He had to get inside and ask a few questions without
raising any suspicion and he had decided the best way to do that
was to fit in with the crowd. He looked down at his boots, jeans
and tight, white T-shirt and shook his head. Nope. Probably not
one of his better idea's.
With a resigned sigh, Jarod hurried across the busy street and up
to the door of the club. As he reached for the handle, the door
opened and three men exited, looking him up and down. Jarod
automatically smiled at them and moved aside briefly as they
passed. As he stepped through the doorway, Jarod's eyes
widened when he felt a firm pat on his ass. Before he could turn his
head the culprit was gone and a new group of eyes were upon him
as he made his way toward the bar.
The music was loud, almost to the point of being just noise and
Jarod could feel the vibrations from the bass throughout his body.
For some strange reason, he liked it. Trying to find a likely person
to talk to while also attempting to be inconspicuous was turning out
to be a problem. Every time Jarod made eye contact with
someone he felt naked as they looked him over then smiled
encouragingly. Jarod would smile back and pretend he was
looking for someone in particular until his admirer moved along.
It took a good five minutes, but Jarod finally made it to the bar.
'Safe at last,' he thought as he sat down and ordered a beer. He
had no sooner started to relax when he felt a hand on his thigh.
Jarod turned to find the hand belonged to a man that was around
his own age with a snake tattoo taking up his entire arm.
"Nice python," Jarod commented, leaning closer to gaze at the
dramatic detail in the artwork.
The man reached down and adjusted himself through his pants.
"Thanks. How do you like my tattoo?"
The man laughed at the confused expression on Jarod's face and
held out his hand.
"I'm Wes."
"Jarod."
Jarod was frantically searching for something to say that couldn't
be mistaken and decided to use Wes as his first source of
information. "So, Wes, do you come here often?"
The other man smiled and leaned in closer.
"I usually come here about twice a night. How about yourself?"
Jarod was still trying to figure out why the man came to the same
club twice in one evening when they were joined by a third man.
"Hey, Wes. Who's your friend?" the new guy asked, giving Jarod
the same look as all the others in the bar.
Wes introduced the newcomer as Tyler and as the two men shook
hands he added, "Jarod likes my python."
Before Jarod could clarify, Tyler rolled his eyes and leaned
toward him. "It's really a sock," he announced in a stage whisper,
groaning in mock pain as Wes slapped his arm.
"It's better than that little garter snake of yours," Wes retaliated.
Completely lost by this point, Jarod let the continuing banter fade
into the background as he resumed scanning the crowd for a likely
informant. The club was packed to the point that Jarod was certain
violated several fire codes and he made a mental note to inform the
local fire Marshall before he left town.
As his eyes roamed across the sea of bodies, he found himself
watching two men who were slow dancing, oblivious to everyone
else in the room. They seemed to be both a perfect and an unlikely
match at the same time; one wearing a dress shirt and slacks, the
other in jeans and a white T-shirt. Both were tall, with Dress Shirt
surpassing his friend/lover by a scant inch.
Jarod stared as T-shirt ran his hands down his partners back,
pulling him impossibly closer before dropping further to caress his
ass. He could almost feel the heat the pair was generating as he
shifted on the bar stool while he simming the recipient of that touch.
Jarod watched the hands glide up, then around the mans waist,
feeling the tightening in his own groin as the hands dropped lower
again. Dress Shirt had his head back as his lover continued his
delicious assault, fingers dancing over the now obvious arousal in
his slacks, lips kissing and sucking at the exposed skin of his
throat. Jarod swallowed, unconsciously raising his chin slightly to
allow better access as Dress Shirt did the same.
A moment later, the simulation was quickly abandoned as T-shirt
grabbed his lover by the hand and practically dragged him toward
the back exit, both men grinning mischievously. As they passed the
bar, T-shirt looked directly at Jarod who quickly blushed under the
intense green eyes, knowing instantly that the man knew Jarod had
been watching them. An amused chuckle reached Jarod's ears as
the men continued on their way, and the pretender's attention
returned to his surroundings just in time to catch the end of Tyler's
last sentence.
"---and if I stay the whole six months, I get a five thousand dollar
bonus. Not bad for just screwing around with some rich dude,
huh?"
Wes was shaking his head in disbelief.
"Man, how do you fall into these great deals? I wish someone
would make me an offer like that." He turned to Jarod, slapping
him on the back as he stood to leave. "Younger cocks get all the
breaks. That's what makes the world go 'round."
Jarod would normally puzzle over that statement, but as he
watched Wes melt into the crowd, his mind was already leaping
ahead. He had found what he was looking for.
Tyler gulped down the remainder of his drink and wiped his mouth
with the back of his hand as he set the glass on the bar. Jarod
wasn't certain how much of the conversation he missed, but he
took a chance.
"So, where did you meet his 'rich dude'?" he asked casually,
leaning back against the bar.
Tyler smiled, still anxious to brag about his good fortune.
"I haven't actually met him yet, just his front man. This dude is too
loaded to come in and troll a dive like this."
Jarod nodded absently as he finished running through his sims,
deciding in the best course to take with the impressionable young
man.
"Aren't you curious about him? I mean, if he's rich enough to uh,
buy services without fear of the law catching up to him, then you'd
think he'd be a little more discreet." Jarod thought he'd blown it as
he saw the other man bristle in offense.
"You saying he should do better than me?" Tyler asked, his voice a
mixture of anger and hurt.
Unsure how to respond in this situation, Jarod was momentarily at
a loss, but recovered quickly.
"No, no of course not," he assured the younger man. "Any guy
here would take you in a second."
Tyler relaxed immediately and Jarod took the opportunity to lead
him over to an empty booth along the wall. As they sat down,
Jarod continued the damage control.
"What I was saying is that it seems strange that this man would
look for a...companion..in a place you can honestly call a dump
and not offend it." Jarod saw his logic was getting through to the
other man and quickly continued. "If he had seen you on the street,
in a restaurant, met you through a mutual friend, then that would
seem a little more natural and safe, don't you think?"
Tyler shrugged his shoulders as he thought about it. The guy made
sense and Tyler had to admit that he'd had his own doubts but let
the money cloud his judgment. He was broke, unemployed and
his family had disowned him when he told them he was gay, and
this offer had seemed like luck was finally going his way.
Jarod watched quietly as Tyler fought this battle with himself. He
had to stop himself from saying more, knowing that sometimes the
less said the better.
Tyler glanced at the clock over the bar. He was supposed to meet
his new employer in ten minutes and now he wasn't sure what to
do. He knew the smart thing would be to tell the guy no, but he'd
been so cocky about the whole thing, bragging to anyone that
would listen, and now he didn't know if he'd have the guts to back
out. He looked up to see Jarod watching him and realized he had
to say something. Anything.
"I guess you're right," Tyler finally muttered, and Jarod let out a
breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "When they come to get
me, I'll just tell them I had a better offer."
That got Jarod's full attention. "They're coming here? When?" This
was the break he needed.
Tyler glanced at the clock again and made a decision.
"In an hour. Wanna stick around and see what I'm passing up?"
Jarod nodded. He wouldn't miss this for the world. He stood up
and gestured toward the bar. "I'll get us a drink while we wait."
Tyler tried unsuccessfully to smother a smile. "You might want to,
uh... take care of something before you get mauled."
Jarod was puzzled until he followed Tyler's gaze downward to his
crotch where a patch of wet material was quite evident.
"When the hell...?" Jarod searched his memory for an explanation,
quickly remembering the sim of the two men on the dance floor
and feeling his cock respond to the reminder.
"Did I miss something exciting earlier?" Tyler asked, no longer
trying to hide his amusement.
Jarod glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed as he
untucked his shirt from his jeans and let it drop down, effectively
concealing the source of Tyler's mirth.
"I think I'll get the drinks on the way back from the men's room,"
Jarod stated as he quickly turned and headed in that direction. He
heard Tyler laughing openly now and walked faster, making a
mental note to stay away from further simulations in this area.
Five minutes later, Jarod exited the restroom just in time to see
Tyler disappearing out the back door. Jarod pushed his way
through the crowd, not even breaking stride when his crotch was
briefly grabbed. He hit the back door running and was relieved to
see Tyler standing alone in the alley, obviously waiting for his
contact.
"You said the meeting was in an hour," Jarod accused the younger
man.
Tyler shrugged his shoulders dismissively. "Yeah, so I did. I
thought about the money and decided it was a lot of cash to just
throw away because you thought I should." He looked at Jarod
then down to the end of the alley where a car had turned in and
was slowly making its way toward them.
"I don't even know you, man."
Jarod had seen the car as well and knew his time was almost up.
"Tyler, I know you have no reason to listen to me, but I'm begging
you. Don't do this."
"It's a lot of money just to keep some guy happy," Tyler argued.
"It's the worlds oldest profession, ya know?"
"Yes," Jarod agreed. "It is, but not what you're thinking. This is not
a job, Tyler. You're not going to be a date you're going to be a
slave--"
"No."
"Yes. They lure you with promises of money but that's just a
promise, not reality. You'll have no say in what you do, where you
go, who you have to..." Jarod struggled for the word he wanted.
"Who I have to fuck?" Tyler asked softly. It was slowly dawning
on him exactly what he had gotten himself into.
He looked back and the car was slowing to a stop about twenty
feet away.
"What do I tell them?"
Jarod sighed in relief. "Tell them no."
Two men had gotten out of the car and come up behind Tyler.
"Ready to go, kid?" the first man asked, giving Jarod a quick,
dismissive look.
Tyler looked back at Jarod then shook his head.
"I'm not going."
The two men from the car glanced at each other then shifted
positions slightly, getting themselves between Tyler and the alley,
his only escape route.
"You signed a contract," the second man said quietly. "You
accepted a retainer fee."
Tyler reached in his pocket and pulled out a handful of money.
"Take it back," he offered, holding the bills out to one man, then
the other. Both refused to take the offering.
"We don't need the money, kid. We need our merchandise."
"He's not for sale," Jarod spoke up, earning a grateful look from
Tyler.
"I don't think anyone asked you," the first man replied coldly. He
took a step toward Jarod. "Why don't you just be on your way."
"I'm leaving," Jarod replied. He reached out and grabbed Tyler's
arm. "With him."
"Get you own meat, he's taken," the second man ordered. He
grabbed Tyler's other arm and yanked him free of Jarod's grasp,
throwing the pretender slightly off balance.
As Jarod moved to reach out for Tyler again, he inadvertently
turned his back on the first man. A warning shout from Tyler came
too late and Jarod dropped to his knees, stunned by a blow to the
back of his head.
Held in place by the larger man, Tyler could only watch when
Jarod tried to get up and was hit again, the butt of the pistol
making a dull thud in the night air.
The car door opened and Tyler turned, watching as a well dressed
man in his late forties emerged and strolled toward them, gravel
crunching under his expensively clad feet.
"Is there a problem, gentlemen?" he asked, his hard voice belieing
the hint of a smile on his face.
The man that held Tyler tightened his grip. "Our newest acquisition
decided he didn't want to play and brought along a friend for
backup."
Tyler wanted to be anywhere but there as the new man looked him
over before reaching out and running his hand over Tyler's chest.
Tyler struggled uselessly as the hand dropped lower to examine his
crotch through his jeans.
"I'm afraid the contract must stand as is," he replied, dropping his
hand. "Put him in the car."
"What about this one, Boss?" the man with Jarod asked, poking
his boot into the unconscious pretender's ribs.
His employer shrugged indifferently.
"Kill him. We don't need witnesses."
"No!" Tyler screamed, fighting with everything he had to pull free
as he was dragged toward the car. He looked back to see the first
man flick open a switchblade and raised his hand. "Jarod!"
"Wait!"
The blade stopped inches from Jarod's back as the new man
hurried to examine the prone form.
"Turn him over."
Jarod was uncerimoniously flipped over, his head turned to face his
would be executioner/savior.
The new man knelt down, gazing into Jarod's features, and a
strange gleam began to form in his eyes. He reached out to touch
the man then stopped, pulling his hand back. This was too good to
be true. No sense breaking the spell by trying to touch him. He
could feel a warmth in his body that hadn't been there in a long
time and it began to pool in his groin as the possibilities this
engendered became tangible. At long last. Jarod.
The man stood and addressed his men, his face once again
impassive.
"Put them both in the car," he ordered, then turned to the man
with Jarod. "And be careful with him or I'll take it out of your ass."
June 4, 1998
Ionian Sea
260 miles NW of Crete
Jarod was dreaming that he was on a beach, lounging in a
hammock that swayed back and forth in a gentle breeze. The
sound of the water and a hum from a source he couldn't
immediately identify were the only intrusions in this idyllic setting.
The hammock continued to sway and the sun grew warmer, the
combination causing Jarod to become dizzy and nauseous. But as
hard as he tried, he couldn't get off the hammock. No, his brain
corrected him. Boat. It was a damn boat. His head started to
pound and his stomach churned. Over the sounds of the water a
voice announced that Jarod looked sick.
The pretender agreed with that assessment wholeheartedly. If
only it was a little cooler, he thought. As if by magic, an icy
cold cloth appeared out of nowhere and settled on his forehead.
Moments later, his stomach began to calm down and his beach
dissolved into nothingness.
Trevor Marcum dipped the rapidly warming cloth into the ice
water and let it cool before wiping down Jarod's face again. He
almost felt sorry for the unconscious man. There couldn't be
anything worse than being drugged and seasick at the same time.
Gazing at the restless man before him, Trevor was conscious of a
deep sense of triumph. A pretender, and not only that,
the pretender. This was a wanted man. Trevor put a
casual hand on Jarod's chest, feeling hard muscle beneath the cloth
of his Henley. He ran two fingers around the neckline, feeling the
skin. Not too warm or feverish, he thought. Not too serious an
injury. Sitting back, Trevor tugged up the bottom hem of Jarod's
shirt, revealing the six-pack of muscle.
Whistling a little in appreciation, Trevor pushed it up over his
pectorals. This guy was incredible. Not the usual smooth youth,
this was a man. Trevor smiled wickedly. There were definite
advantages in the hard body of an older type. He could be so
versatile in the different games that Trevor liked to play. He
tweaked a nipple, and received no response from Jarod. Bending
down, he took the nipple gently between his teeth and bit down,
following the bite with a series of quick licks around it. Trevor was
gratified to see the nipple become erect.
He worked the other, and this time Jarod groaned softly, pushing
his pelvis up in response. Trevor checked Jarod's eyes clinically,
pushing up the eyelid. This guy was down for the count, wouldn't
even know what was happening to him. Perfect. He pulled Jarod's
shirt off, being uncharacteristically careful with his bruised head,
and tossed it on the floor of the cabin. Taking Jarod's chin, he
turned his face one way then the next, then pushed his fingers into
Jarod's cheeks between his jaws, opening his mouth. Leaning
forward Trevor thrust his tongue into Jarod's mouth, ruthlessly
tasting and exploring. It just wasn't as much fun if the guy didn't
kiss back, so he abandoned that.
Tasting Jarod's skin, though, was more enjoyable. Slowly Trevor
went over the handsome face before him, nibbling the strong jaw,
brushing his lips across the stubble, biting an earlobe. His hands
attended to the nipples, keeping them erect, but there was no
further response from Jarod until he twisted them painfully hard,
eliciting a moan from deep within the man.
Fine, he had no problems with that. Trevor undid Jarod's belt
and unzipped the tight jeans eager now to check the man's
package. He got up and roughly jerked the jeans and boxers
down to Jarod's knees, revealing a cock that was half erect due to
his nipple play.
Taking the shaft in his hand, Trevor tugged on it roughly,
drawing another slight groan. He then stood and removed the rest
of Jarod's clothes, jarring the man in his hurry to tear them off of
him. He pushed the leg furthest from him up against the cabin wall,
and the other off the bed so that Jarod's foot rested on the floor.
Seating himself in the space he'd created, Trevor now had full
access to Jarod's cock and balls and he intended to take full
advantage of the pretender's current incapacity.
Taking the scrotum in his hands, he hefted it, pleased with the
weight and size of the man's testicles. There really was an
advantage in playing with a mature adult. The sense of power was
so much greater, the ultimate surrender so much sweeter.
He squeezed the balls until it would have had a conscious man
screaming, but all this heavily drugged man did was groan and
tense his thigh muscles briefly. Trevor took a moment to free his
own erection from his trousers, stroking himself to full hardness
with his left hand as his right hand caressed Jarod's cock. He
gripped Jarod's shaft painfully hard, pulling down it's length, until
his fingers were directly behind the glans. He closed his fist tighter,
and Jarod kicked a little, brow creasing with pain.
Trevor rubbed his thumb roughly around the head of the cock,
pushing into the slit, and was rewarded with a visible hardening of
the shaft.
"Like it a little rough, do you Jarod? I'll remember. . ."
Trevor bent down and licked at the cockhead, enclosing it with his
lips. He thrust the tip of his tongue into the slit, and the cock
swelled more. Drawing back, Trevor eyed the droplet of precum
that formed.
Sensitive, to get aroused so quickly with the amount of
sedatives he had in him. Trevor squeezed his own cock at the
base, feeling himself too near ejaculation. He wiped the moisture
from Jarod's cock onto his index finger and licked it, then took
his fingers into his mouth, wetting them. Pushing Jarod's balls
up out of the way, he felt down the perineum to Jarod's anus and
pressed a wetted finger into the tight hole.
"Never been fucked, Jarod? Well, I'll take care of that." He
thrust his finger into Jarod's body up to the knuckle and wiggled it
back and forth. A slight jerk of Jarod's knee was the only
response he garnered, so he added another finger and scissored
them inside the tight heat.
Seeking and finally finding Jarod's prostate, he rubbed against
it. The reaction was immediate. Jarod cried out and almost
spasmed off the bed, his cock becoming rampant against his belly.
The pre-ejaculate was running more freely now, making a wet
smear against the unconscious man's abdomen.
Withdrawing his fingers, Trevor wiped them on the thigh of his
trousers, then stood and removed them after toeing out of his
shoes. Clad only in his shirtsleeves, Trevor climbed up on the bed,
straddling Jarod's chest. He pressed the tip of his cock to Jarod's
unresisting lips, then thrust his cock inside the other man's
mouth, pulling it out before Jarod could choke. He thrust rapidly
several more times, reveling in the power he had to do this without
Jarod's knowledge or consent.
Moving down between Jarod's legs, he pulled the leg that lay
against the wall up so that Jarod's ankle rested on his shoulder. He
took the fluid that was oozing from his own cock and used it as
lubricant, slicking down the head and shaft, then pushed it against
the barely stretched muscle of Jarod's anus.
Pulling the pillow from behind the pretender's head, he wedged
it under the man's ass, levering it up into position, then, in one
stroke, he pushed his cock deep inside. Jarod moaned and shook
his head from side to side. The burning pain penetrated even his
drugged haze, and his eyelids fluttered briefly.
Trevor was still, waiting for Jarod to settle back down.
Finally the muscles that had tensed with the pain relaxed, and
Trevor pulled out again to the tip and then thrust again. Jarod's
reaction was not as severe this time, and feeling more secure,
Trevor began to fuck him in earnest, pumping in and out of the
man's unresisting body.
Gritting his teeth, Trevor thrust harder and harder, burying
himself inside Jarod. Every stroke marked his claim on this man
deeper and deeper in Trevor's mind. He reached out, twisted a
nipple painfully, making Jarod moan in time to the jerks that
the force of Trevor's thrusts caused. Jarod's cock had softened
somewhat, but Trevor disregarded that. It wasn't important that
Jarod enjoy this. This was about ownership and mastery, and
with a roar of triumph Trevor came within Jarod's body, pulsing his
semen deep within the mans bowels.
He lay upon Jarod for a moment, then roughly pulled out and
walked to the restroom to wash himself. Stripping out of his shirt,
he discarded it on the floor with the rest of the his and Jarod's
clothes.
He hit an intercom button and slipped on a midnight blue silk
robe. A young man quickly appeared at the door and dropped to
his knees.
"Sir?"
"Clean this up," he motioned at the clothes and Jarod.
"Yes, sir."
"But first....bring me something to eat."
End of part 1