PRISONER OF WAR
by Rick Dalton
CHAPTER ONE
"I need to talk to Alix."
Sylvain stared at me without expression.
"Can you do it again?"
He hesitated, as if considering his words carefully.
"This is not to be done lightly," he answered slowly. "It could be dangerous for you."
"But you'll be there with me?"
"Yes, I will watch over you."
He disappeared from the bedroom, but I could hear sounds from the kitchen as I prepared for bed.
"I have brought you chocolát as before; it will help you relax and sleep," he explained upon his return.
I propped up on the down filled pillows of my fourposter and took the cup from him.
"I thought you were joining me?"
"You must begin the journey by yourself, I will be there."
"Please sit here beside me," I begged, moving over on the bed to make room. "I'm a little nervous this time, knowing what may come."
I sipped the hot liquid slowly, glancing up at him, then boldly drank it down before I could change my mind. He took the cup from me, placing it on the bedside table.
"Now you will sleep. I am here with you."
"Yes, I ..." my words trailed off as I drifted into sleep.
The endless stone staircase loomed before me. I looked around, the terraces on each side were barren, I was alone. A cold wind blew across the steel grey sky. I must climb alone this time, Alix was not with me. Maybe this was a mistake and I should go home, but I began climbing. There was nothing at the top. A vast empty plateau stretched out before me.
"Alix, where are you?" I called out.
My voice echoed from the surrounding mountains as the winds blew colder. Ice crystals swirled around me as I searched for the steps. Stumbling around in the encroaching darkness, I tripped and went sprawling on the ground. Hands grasped mine lifting me to my feet. The moon was briefly visible lighting a shining path across the slippery rocks. I found the top of the stairway and began my descent. A figure waited at the bottom.
"Sylvain! What are you doing here?"
He said nothing but clasped me to him, wrapping me in his warm embrace.
I slept soundly and dreamlessly until morning.
"What do you remember of last night?" Sylvain inquired at breakfast.
I glanced across the dining room. Jeremie and Jaime had gone back down to the kitchen. Sylvain and I were alone in the room, enjoying our coffee.
"I'd rather the boys don't know," I warned; "keep this just between us, please?"
He nodded in agreement. A man of few words, I was finding.
"You were there," I joked.
His impassive expression revealed nothing.
"I mean, you were there in my dream, as well as in my bed."
"Did you find Alix?"
"No," I replied despondently, "just a cold lonely place until you met me at the bottom of the temple steps."
"No sign was given, no words were spoken?"
"I was lost on a dark snowy plateau, I stumbled, fell...Yes!" I cried out in sudden remembrance. "Hands came out of nowhere and pulled me to my feet, the moon shone through the gloom. A path through the rocks was revealed - a bright shining path!"
"Mistuh Rick," Jeremie called out from the doorway.
I jumped involuntarily.
"Sorry suh, didn't mean to scare ya."
"That's okay. What is it you need?" I asked impatiently.
"We needs to order the kitchen supplies fo' the guest comin' this week."
"Of course, you're right. I'll be down in a few minutes. Get your list together."
"Yessuh," he said quietly, as he left the room.
"I guess I better get down to business or I won't have any!"
"Perhaps the hands were Alix. The shining path must mean something."
"The first time, when you put me under," I grinned at my double meaning, "Alix mentioned you would help me find the shining path and Marco."
"Who is Marco you speak of?"
"My first love, my truest love. He took his own life in Key West, but sent Alix to me. He knew he was dying," I stopped, the words catching in my throat, my eyes welling up on the verge of tears as thoughts of Marco surfaced.
I pushed back from the table, not able to continue.
"I'm sorry," I managed, "maybe later, not now."
I fled from the room and headed toward the ground floor office. I couldn't shed my tears in front of Sylvain.
A couple of hours work on the telephone and computer put me back in touch with the realities of running a gay guest resort. The recent brush with Hurricane Isadore had dried up reservations and enabled Alix and me to travel to his homeland of Peru for a visit to his family. In retrospect, a big mistake! Now things were returning to normal.
"Mistuh Rick," Jeremie said, standing in the office door, a troubled look shadowing his face.
"Come in," I invited cheerfully.
"You're not mad at me, at Jaime and me?"
"Of course not," I said consolingly as I crossed the room and gave him a big hug. "You guys did a great job while we...while I was gone. The house shines like new and the grounds are almost back to normal."
"You seem' kinda mad upstairs. That yo' new boyfrien'?"
"No, no you got it all wrong. He worked for Alix's family and came here to help me get through Alix's death. I don't even know if he's gay."
"He be goin' back?"
"Just here for a visit, like our other guests."
"But he be sleepin' in yo' room."
"You jealous?" I teased.
"No suh, jes' he be askin' questions, snoopin' 'round and stuff like that."
"That's part of his job. He's here to protect me, among other things. Remember Mauricio and Laurenzo?
"Yeah, the hunky white dudes."
"They're bad people and may have killed Alix. His family wants to be sure I'm safe. That's all there is to it. So he has to sleep in the cottage...and he doesn't sleep in my bed!"
At least not yet, I thought.
"There you are!"
A startled Sylvain turned abruptly at my voice.
"You read all these books?" he asked, pointing at the shelves of volumes lining the library's inner wall.
"Not all, but most of them," I grinned, "lots of quiet evenings here in the countryside of Jamaica."
"I studied at the University of Lima, many long nights in the library," he said thoughtfully.
"You're a surprising guy - student, soldier, marksman, valet."
"I must find my own way," he spat out vehemently. "He does not acknowledge my existence!"
"Who?"
"Perhaps later we will speak of it."
Looks like we both have some things to get off our chest, I thought.
"Maybe we should pay a visit to the neighbors. I'd like you to meet Tommie and Phillippe at the next plantation. You up for it?"
"Wherever you go, I must go," he said simply.
"They are rich like you," he commented as we approached the elegant Georgian Great House of Rose Hall Plantation.
"Tommie and Phillippe are wealthy, not me. I work for a living, like you," I replied, seeking a common bond.
Our approach up through the allee of graceful trees must have alerted Nathaniel. He stood at the main entrance door as we drove into the circular car park in front of the steps.
"Welcome home, Rick!" he shouted, bounding down the stairs as I exited the Landrover and grabbing me in a great bear hug.
Nathaniel's towering bulk or his dredlocks must have intimidated Sylvain, as I saw his hand go for his gun tucked beneath his jacket.
"It's okay, Sylvain," I chuckled, "he's just a big overstuffed teddybear. Harmless as a pussycat."
"Come on in, guys!" Nathaniel invited." Tommie's in the drawing room waiting for you."
"And Phillippe?"
"Out on the yacht, doing a charter tour up the coast. Be back in a couple of days."
Nothing had changed in the vast elegant hallway. Gilt framed portraits of Tommie's ancestors still lined the walls, staring down upon us. The scent of lemon oil from the well polished antique mahogany furniture wafted toward our nostrils on the cool breezes passing through from the rear entrance doors.
"Rick!" Tommie squealed in delight as he ran into the hall to greet us.
He planted a big wet kiss as his arms pulled me close.
"I missed you guys so much," I admitted. "It's good to be home."
"This must be Alix's friend Sylvain," Tommie said, graciously extending his hand. "Consider yourself part of our little family, too!"
"Thank you, it is very kind," Sylvain said somewhat stiffly.
"Drinks all around?" Nathaniel queried as we entered the drawing room.
"Sure, a martini would be great," I enthused.
Sylvain opted for a raspberry iced tea. Must remain alert he had explained cryptically, then asked for directions to the baño.
"Bathroom," I explained to Nathaniel, who led him out to the hallway.
"Unusual looking chap," Tommie commented.
"Probably pure Incan bloodline," I explained.
"Sure has the hots for you."
"I don't think he's gay."
"He shot me an icy glare when I kissed you in the hallway just now."
"Hmm. Just being protective, I guess."
"Shall I find out for you?" Tommie offered with a grin. "I could use a new man in my bed!"
"Don't you dare! You'll scare him to death, and what's up with Phillippe. Tired of your new beau already?"
"I'm oversexed and kinky - just like you," he smiled slyly. "We could take him upstairs together!"
"I leave you guys alone for two minutes and you're plotting a sexcapade," Nathaniel chuckled, coming back into the room. "Sylvain's packing heat, too. What's going on?"
"Oh dear, where to begin!"
I gave them a capsule version of the events surrounding Alix's death.
"Sounds like a movie script in the making," Nathaniel observed.
"And don't forget," Tommie broke in, "the butler did it! Sylvain's probably a hit man for the grandfather."
"Guess I better get him into bed fast," I kidded, "and see what other weapons he has - before I die!"
After dinner with Tommie and Nathaniel, I turned the wheel over to Sylvain, studying his profile as we drove back to Sugar Hill.
"You have any ideas?"
"What is it you wish to know, Rick?" he asked quietly, his eyes steady on the road.
"About my dream - its meaning, about your outburst in the library, about your sex life!"
Startled, his gaze left the road momentarily as he stared at me. The car grazed the underbrush on the roadside then centered as he refocused on his driving.
"Guess we better save it 'til we get home," I suggested.
Dusk had descended, cloaking the Great House in grey shadows. Lights on the third floor indicated Jeremie and Jaime had retired for the evening. The cottage was inky black nestled in its grove of palms. I led the way up the wood stairs to the veranda.
"I'm having another drink. Join me?" I offered.
"Now that we are alone, yes, I will drink with you," Sylvain smiled in return.
A light wind blew in from the sea, inviting us to linger on the porch.
"I'll bring the drinks out here," I offered, disappearing into the darkened house.
Returning with a tray of bottles and glasses, I found Sylain perched on the railing gazing toward the Great House.
"I am not like you and your friends," he spoke out of the darkness as I settled the tray on a wicker table. "My culture will not permit your lifestyle."
Remaining silent I pressed a frosted glass into his hand. Sipping cautiously, he smiled in acceptance.
"This is good. What is it?"
"Vodka and orange, no alcohol taste."
"My resentment toward my family, we will talk of later. Your experience we must speak of first. Perhaps your love of Alix allowed you to believe he was still with you. Whatever you think he said to you was something you wanted to hear - the seeds already planted in your mind. The reference to shining path, something your friend JuanCarlo spoke of at the funeral."
"So this whole dream thing means nothing," I said flatly.
"Indian tradition tells us that our ancestors are still with us. The ancient Incan placed food, clothing, and all the gold possessions in the tomb of his departed one."
"You knocked me out with something," I accused, digging in further.
"An ancient Indian medicine to relax the body, open the mind. Whatever you felt was from your mind or channeled to you from the other world."
"Then it is possible that Alix spoke to me?"
"Anything is possible with a receptive mind. Tell me of Marco."
He rejoined me on the wicker settee, leaning into the opposite corner, his face turned expectantly toward me, encouraging me to confide further.
"We shared our lives for several years; he was hooked on drugs when we first met. Our love grew and he straightened his life, or so I thought. He was dealing drugs all along until I turned him in. After prison and counseling, we resumed our lives. His probation ended and he was to join me here in Jamaica."
I paused, considering my words carefully.
"I believe he sent Alix to me, to capture my heart. He planned all along to take his own life, wanted me to have a new interest so he could slip away without a ripple."
"You have never let him go. You still believe he is out there somewhere, waiting for you to find him."
"You're right, my silly hopes are selfish. I should accept his death, accept Alix's death, and get on with it."
We sat in mutual silence.
"You studied psychology at the university didn't you?" I prodded, breaking the spell.
"Yes," he replied, "among other things."
"Such as...?"
"Political science."
"Ah, just like Alix."
"Not like Alix!" he spat out. "I had no rich family to pay my way. I had to make my own destiny. That's why I joined the army, they paid for my education."
Now we're getting to the heart, I thought, and pressed on.
"But you cared for Alix and his family."
"I loved Alix; I wanted to be Alix! Watching him grow up with all the advantages that should have been mine," he continued vehemently, "if I looked more like the white man and not like the Indian!"
Time to stir the fires further. I mixed a stronger drink, again pressing the glass into his hand.
"But you must be proud of your Incan heritage, a truly noble race of men," I consoled.
"You don't understand. Like Alix, I too share a mixed heritage. El Presidente is my father."
The glass slipped from my hand, crashing onto the porch floor.
CHAPTER TWO
"Is this what you want, Rick?"
I knelt down on the floor between his knees, worshipping the smooth tanned body. My arms went around his waist as I nuzzled the curly hair around the great phallus. The musky scent of his manhood filled my every breath. I dared take the smooth round head into my mouth, tasting of its sweetness. My tongue sought out the twin globes hanging beneath, licking gently. I returned my attention to his throbbing cock pulling it into my mouth, gagging on its great size. He stood up pulling me with him.
"I'm going to fuck you, Rick, just like I took Alix. You should share in the pleasures I gave him."
He led me to the cool satiny sheets of my bed, pushing me roughly down on my stomach..
"Alix liked it this way, he begged me to fuck him rough and hard."
He plunged his fingers in first loosening me up with handfuls of lotion. I could feel the head of his cock inch in through the sticky mass. Pushing further and further, he finally lay on top, filling me so full I moaned from the sudden shooting pain.
"Alix cried out with pain and pleasure, just like you."
His teeth bit into my neck as he pounded his flesh into mine. The old fourposter creaked and groaned with the rocking motion. He bit down harder as he plunged in and out, the pain driving me close to orgasm.
"You like this dick up your ass, say it!" he commanded.
"I love it, yes, I want everything you gave Alix, and more!"
"You'll get every inch of this in your ass and in your throat 'til you scream out in ecstasy." he vowed. "You'll get down on your knees and beg for it, just like Alix."
His breathing came harder and in great gasps as he plunged in one last time, emitting an animal like howl as his liquid filled me to bursting.
For long moments he lay there, panting, as great globs of semen spurted from my own cock. Finally pulling out roughly, he slapped me hard across the buttocks. The stinging sensation brought tears to my eyes, as I cried out in pain.
I glanced quickly around, but he was gone. The room was empty. I lay there long moments, recovering, then struggled to my feet and headed for the warm healing waters of the shower.
Wrapped in a thick cotton body sheet, I padded across the bare wood floor to the bedroom door. I could see his still form, slumbering quietly on the sofa in the living room. The blanket pushed down to his waist. I crept into the room slowly, approaching stealthily, but he stirred from his sleep.
"What is it, Rick?" he asked sleepily. "Something wrong?"
"No, I...I...couldn't sleep," I mumbled. "Sorry if I woke you."
He got up from the sofa, the blanket falling to the floor, as he drew me gently to him, his arms around me. His cool smooth skin pressed close to mine as he held me tightly.
"Would it help if I came in and lay down with you 'til you fall asleep?" he asked gently.
I nodded in assent, my mind awhirl with emotion.
"Your sheet is damp," he noted, "you must have had a nightmare."
I stared at him dumbly, not able to speak.
"Let's go back out to the sofa, I'll make room for you."
He unfolded the sofa into a double bed, rearranging the sheets to fit, and sat down on the edge.
"Here, lie next to me," he said, patting the lumpy surface. "It's not real confortable, but at least it's dry."
I lay down on my back, he on his side, his arm gently across my chest.
"Now try to sleep," he whispered soothingly. "We both had a lot to drink."
Amen to that, I thought! I clutched his arm tightly to me, finding comfort and solace in his gentle touch, as we both drifted back to sleep.
CHAPTER THREE
I slipped out of bed at the first light of dawn, Sylvain still slumbering peacefully. My back ached ferociously, not to mention a few other things. Sleeping on the foldaway bed was a big mistake. I gathered up the stained sheets from the fourposter and stuffed them in the laundry basket, replacing them with fresh white cotton. We'd sleep in here tonight, or I would, at least.
Dressing quickly, I headed over to the kitchen in the Great House. I needed hot coffee.
"Mistuh, Rick, yo' sho' look hard pressed this mo'ning," Jeremie observed.
"Yep, hard's the word," I said, dropping into a chair at the work table. "May I have a cup please?"
"Would yo' be havin' them eggs and grits yo' like," he asked with a giggle as he poured the steaming liquid into my monogramed mug.
"I think not, thanks for asking though," I said, smiling at his stab at humor.
I sat quietly, comtemplating my cup, breathing the warm vapor. My head still swam with the tag ends of things forgotten from last night. What happened? Another dream, a bad reaction to alcohol, or was Sylvain playing with my emotions?
The kitchen door swung open and a freshly dressed Sylvain sauntered in, taking a seat opposite me at the table.
"Are you okay?" he asked, leaning over the counter and kissing me fully on the lips right in front of God, Jeremie, and Jaime. "You left without me," he added.
I nearly fell on the floor in shock, and suddenly, I felt like having breakfast.
"Let's all eat down here, together!" I exclaimed joyfully.
"The beach is a little rough," I explained, "more rocks and pebbles than actual sand. The sea is always gloriously blue, so I come down here often."
"You don't use your new swimming pool?" Sylvain asked.
"Save that for the paying guests, when we have them. It's been a tough start this year, but we'll make it," I effused with my new found enthusiasm.
We had toured the entire Great House, the old sugar mill, still under reconstruction, the reclaimed clay tennis courts, the newly built tropical lagoon-like pool, and the formal gardens.
The rest of the afternoon passed quickly as I confirmed several reservations for the weekend, ordered in the extra food supplies requested by Jeremie, and engaged a new pool service. The boys would have to run the kitchen alone for now, a monumental task without Alix at the helm.
Just as I was about to telephone Bradley in Miami, Sylvain poked his head in the door.
"I made an attempt at your martini recipe, if you're interested," he said with a grin.
"Always. Let's go!"
We strolled hand in hand across the freshly mowed lawn. The sweet smell of cut grass mixed with the tangy salt air blowing in from the sea. I felt wholly invigorated, with new inspiration for life. I hoped Sylvain would become a part of it.
"Nectar of the gods," I saluted him with my glass. "The perfect martini, the perfect man!"
He blushed lightly at the attention. I wasn't about to ask what caused this big change in Sylvain, best to enjoy it and hope it would last.
"Perhaps we could have our dinner here - at the cottage," he suggested, "just you and me."
Not waiting for my answer, he pressed another drink in my hand.
"I'll just be a few more minutes in the kitchen," he said, disappearing through the front door.
I drank alone, staring across at the Great House. I could get used to this, I thought, having my decisions made for me. So much simpler.
Dinner in the little dining area was festive indeed. Deep orange hibiscus blossoms anchored the table's center. My old Blue Willow plates and antique silverware never looked better than holding Sylvain's pork roast and whipped potatoes. Fresh asparagus spears and Hollandaise sauce completed the meal. A fine dry red wine flowed freely as Sylvain kept my goblet filled.
"I confess," he said with downturned mouth. "Your kitchen crew helped put this together."
"They whip up a dessert by chance?"
"Your favorite spice cake and Blue Mountain coffee were delivered through the back door a few minutes ago by Jeremie."
"If you were gay, I'd marry you in a flash."
"Who says I'm not," he grinned in reply.
We took our Courvousier onto the porch. The cool night air went unfelt as I drank everything Sylvain served me.
"You have any photos of Marco around?" Sylvain asked suddenly.
"An album in the bedroom, I'll go get it."
I struggled unsteadily to my feet and started for the door.
"You need some help, that's what I'm here for."
I rummaged through the chest of drawers, finally spying the photo album in the bottom.
"My lovely Marco."
Sylvain took the book from my hand and placed it on the bedside table.
"I'll look at it tomorrow. Let's get you to bed."
He helped me undress and slip between the cool sheets. I sighed in contentment as he started to leave the room.
"You aren't going to sleep on the hard lumpy sofa by yourself. Sleep in here where you belong."
"If you insist," he smiled.
Turning out the lights, he undressed silently, standing for long moments next to me in the dark. Taking my hand in his, he guided it to his rock hard cock, wrapping my fingers around it. He moved my hand up and down on the steely shaft, bringing my fingers to his lips he licked his salty pre-cum from the tips, then slowly guided his great piece of flesh into my mouth.
"Is this what you want, Rick?"
He forced himself deep into my throat causing a gag reflex. I nearly choked on his massive member, just as he pulled back slightly. Slapping me hard across the face, he then shoved it back in to the depths of my throat.
"Take it like a man, like Alix did."
The aching jaw proved to be the tip of the iceberg. Bruised lips and facial abrasions emerged from the steamy mirror as I attempted to shave after the warm soothing shower.
"Shit!" I exclaimed aloud, "Can't go to breakfast like this."
Gingerly pulling on jeans and a tee, I felt swollen places on my back and buttocks, tender to the touch. I was a mess.
Heading to the kitchen for coffee, I stopped short at the doorway. The kitchen was a disaster area, Sylvain hadn't cleaned up after dinner. Dishes piled on the drain board, pots and pans with the remains of dinner were stacked in the sink. So much for the perfect man!
I put the coffee water on just as the screen door slammed in the front room. Sylvain poked his head into the kitchen.
"Sorry about the mess, baby. Just came to get your breakfast order," he said cheerfully. "I'm sure you don't want the guys to see you like that!"
"Yeah, what happened? You beat me up?" I asked accusingly, rubbing my sore chin.
"You were insatiable after dinner, couldn't get enough sex," he grinned. "Then when you passed out on the bed, I started to clean the kitchen, but I shouldn't have left you alone."
"What'd I do?" I sighed heavily.
"You must have rolled out of bed, smashed your face on the floor. I'm sorry I didn't stay with you," he said consolingly as he gently took my hands in his and kissed the fingertips.
"That's the only place that doesn't hurt," I said ruefully.
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