THE TUTOR
by Rick Dalton
CHAPTER ONE
"He's absolutely adorable!" Bradley enthused, "but you're no 'Auntie Mame'."
"And your point is?"
"He needs to be in school, not traipsing around the world. How old is he?"
"Don't know, perhaps sixteen," I said, squirming uncomfortably, as Bradley's BMW sped across the causeway to Miami Beach. "What do you propose I do with him?"
"Prep school! You've got the money to send him anywhere, my dear. You need to concentrate on running your business, and not racing off into the Amazon jungles."
"Ouch!"
"Do not send me away, papa," piped up a sleepy voice from the back seat.
Bradley stared at me, mouthing the word 'papa' silently as he broke into a broad grin.
"Not to worry, Miguel," I assured him, "you can stay with me as long as you like."
"I never want to leave you," he sighed, closing his eyes again.
Bradley ushered us into his pede-a-terre with his usual flamboyance.
"And this breathtaking view across the intracoastal is the 'Magic City'," he explained to Miguel with a sweep of his arm, indicating the colorful lights of Miami's skyscrapers.
"One room or two?" Bradley whispered to me as Miguel stepped out to the balcony.
"Two, of course!"
"Your own private room with a view," Bradley quipped, showing Miguel the southeast bedroom which commanded a breathtaking panorama of South Beach.
Miguel looked up with a worried expression, glancing at Bradley and back to me for reassurance.
"Don't panic, my dear," Bradley assured him with a sly wink to me. "Your 'papa' will be right next door."
Miguel showered and changed for bed while Bradley and I indulged in a Bombay martini, Sapphire label of course.
"He seems pretty dependent on you for a street kid," Bradley observed. "I thought they were self reliant little urchins."
"Apparently he was 'recruited' from the streets shortly after his mother died from an overdose. If he's lucky he had no time to pick up bad habits."
"What about the stint in the male whorehouse you told me about, darling?"
I shuddered with thoughts of what may have happened to him if Sylvain hadn't intervened.
"How cute you look in your little white robe," Bradley remarked as Miguel padded into the living on bare feet, his hair shiny and slicked back from the shower.
Wordlessly he curled up on the sofa at my side.
"Disneyland!" he said with a grin pointing out the lights of Miami through the glass wall before us.
"Not quite," I chuckled. "Miami is called the 'Magic City'; Disneyworld is called 'The Magic Kingdom!"
To connect with Miguel, I'd have to start viewing the world through the eyes of a child. I had a lot to learn about fatherhood.
"How old are you, Miguel?" I asked.
"Fourteen," he replied proudly. "Now I am a man!"
"You certainly are!" I agreed, nearly choking on my hasty swallow of gin.
We both began to yawn from our exhaustive plane trip and I ushered Miguel off to his bedroom, soon following to my own. During the night I felt a warm body press close to mine, an arm thrown across my chest.
"Well, my dears, brunch on Ocean Drive?" Bradley offered.
A short walk from Bradley's building brought us out onto the showpiece of Miami Beach, the Art Deco District. Pastel hued hotels of the 30s and 40s restored to pristine condition formed the background for a burgeoning photo shoot and modeling trade.
"On that very step," Bradley pointed out to Miguel, "is where the famous fashion designer Versace bought the farm!"
"Bought the farm?" Miguel scratched his head in perplexity.
"I think we've both seen enough death for one trip," I scolded Bradley.
"Just wait 'til you get home, my dear. Oops! I promised not to say anything."
"Out with it!" I said with a cold stare.
"Well, better for you to be prepared. Your houseman Jaime was killed by an intruder the day you left Jamaica."
"Oh, my poor little Jaime," I wailed in astonishment. "Did they catch the creep?"
"I believe you and your boyfriend already evened the score, my dear," Bradley said softly.
"Mauricio did it?"
He just nodded in reply.
So much for a holiday in Miami. We booked a flight to Montego Bay that very afternoon.
"Oh, Nathaniel, I'm so sorry!" I cried out, running toward the big rastah man waiting at the gate. "I just found out this morning or I would have come straight away."
"I know, Rick. We all made the decision not to call and spoil your trip. There's nothing you could have done anyway."
He somberly walked Miguel and me out to the Bentley, double parked at the terminal entrance.
"So this is your son," he said cheerfully, giving Miguel a little squeeze on the shoulder.
Miguel regarded him with suspicious eyes.
We all rode home in the front seat, no easy feat even in a Bentley. I pulled Miguel close, my arm around him, so we'd all fit. The top of his head just came to my chin; I couldn't resist a little kiss to his crown of shiny black hair. He smiled up in contented silence.
Our car rolled up the long dusty gravel drive bisecting the former cane fields, now dried out and dormant. The huge limestone house appeared straight ahead, a crown jewel in an emerald lawn. December sun was plunging toward the sea, shooting rays of gold against the smooth stone facade.
"We're home, Miguel," I whispered.
"You live here?" he asked in awe-struck voice.
"We live here," I corrected.
Jeremie was waiting for us as we pulled into the circular car park.
"Mistuh Rick, I'se sho' glad yo' come back," he avowed in somber voice.
I embraced him warmly, setting off a flood of tears from his eyes. He sobbed quietly into my chest as I held him tightly. I tried to soothe him with comforting words, but my own voice choked with emotion.
"I'll take the bags over to the cottage," Nathaniel offered.
I thanked him with my eyes.
"Miguel, go with Nathaniel. I'll be along in a minute."
I walked with Jeremie back to the Great House. We entered through the arched opening at ground level into a lower hallway leading to my office and the kitchen.
"Do you want to talk about anything, Jeremie?"
"No, suh."
"Where did they take him?" I asked quietly.
"He be buried in the church yard nex' to the mistress."
"We're all going to miss him. I'm so sorry, Jeremie."
We sat at the work table in the darkened kitchen, each musing on his own memories of Jaime.
"That be yo' new boyfrien'?" he asked suddenly.
"No, that's my son Miguel."
His eyes opened wide with surprise.
"You be married and gay?"
"No, Jeremie, I'm not married in that way," I said, surprised at his astuteness. "His mother died and left him alone on the streets. I sort of adopted him and brought him here to live with us."
"He gonna help me in the kitchen like Jaime did."
"He's only fourteen, so he's got to go to school. We'll find someone to help you," I assured him with a little hug. "I know you can't do all this work alone."
"He be a gay boy, too?"
"I don't know, but that's his decision to make when the time is right," I sighed. "You want to meet him?"
"Sho' do, lets go!"
We went back out the way we had come in, not going up to the main floor where they had found Jaime's body. I wasn't ready to see the library - not yet!
Lights were on in the cottage, sending a cheery warmth to greet us as we strolled across the darkened landscape.
Nathaniel had stowed our gear in the bedroom and was busy in the kitchen. Miguel was sitting quietly in the living room, looking a bit lost. He brightened as we entered the room.
"Miguel, this is Jeremie. He helps us take care of our guests," I explained.
They regarded each other silently, a sudden shyness setting in.
"Jeremie, tell Miguel about all the things we have here at Sugar Hill," I suggested.
He looked questioningly at me.
"Like the beach, the new swimming pool. You know, stuff like that," I smiled.
With sudden recognition, he started describing our surroundings as he sat down next to Miguel. I slipped out of the room to join Nathaniel in the kitchen.
"What you up to, big man?" I asked, slipping my hands around his muscular waist.
"Fixing you three a little supper unless you have something else in mind," he grinned.
"Guess I better not. The kid thinks I belong to Sylvain."
"I don't see any bruises," he said, turning and examining me closely.
"We got past that," I chuckled. "I may have left him with a few bruises."
"Don't want to know any details, thank you," he joked in return.
"I need your advice," I said with a serious note.
"Step into my office," he invited, sitting at my old pine plank table.
"We sure do a lot of conferring and planning in the kitchen," I noted.
"My rural upbringing. A planters life is centered around the kitchen table."
"Whatever that means."
I was stalling, not knowing what to ask.
"Spit it out, Rick."
"About Miguel, what am I supposed to do next? How do I become a father?"
"Someone said, 'It takes a whole village to raise a child', and we're your village - me, Tommie, Phillippe, and Jeremie."
I absorbed his words with slow realization of their meaning.
"You mean like a committee, a board of directors?"
"Perhaps an advisory committee, and only when you ask for our help."
"Fair enough! Now how about a school for Miguel? Can you recommend one?"
"I presume his formal education has a few holes to fill? Like the language barrier?"
"At the very least," I agreed.
"He'd be swallowed up in a school of his peers. He needs private tutoring."
"You got someone in mind?"
"Just the man for the job, my cousin Kendall."
"He a teacher?"
"His parents were professors at Harvard. He was born in Boston, studied education there before branching off into nuclear physics. A genius."
"What brings him here?" I asked, puzzled.
"Disillusioned with the corporate world. Dropped out and came back here to find his roots, paint, and search for the meaning of life."
"You think he'd be interested in helping Miguel?"
"I'll convince him this is just what he needs to give his own a life new meaning and perspective - by helping someone else."
"What's that burnin' smell?" Jeremie asked, poking his head through the kitchen door.
Nathaniel's head snapped around in surprise.
"Just kiddin'," Jeremie laughed.
"Guess I'd better get back to work," Nathaniel grinned. "Got a couple of hungry guys to feed." He rose from the table, then whispered, "I'll take care of that other matter first thing in the morning."
With supper finished, Nathaniel and I slipped out to the veranda for a Blue Mountain coffee and a snifter of Courvousier.
"Jeremie seems to be getting along quite well with Miguel," Nathaniel noted, "but he sure misses his cousin Jaime."
"Miguel seems to fill the void," I agreed.
They were chattering away in the living room and hadn't noticed our absence.
"Hate to leave you stuck with the dishes, but I've got to get back to Rose Hall," Nathaniel announced rising to his feet.
"Been stuck with a dirty kitchen before; I will survive!"
"Tell Jeremie I'll see him in the morning."
"Maybe he should stay the night here with Miguel. I need a good nights sleep - alone."
"I was wondering about that. Kind of cramps your style with a kid around all the time."
"I'm going to be a role model for Miguel," I vowed. "No more sex and games."
"Yeah, that'll be the day," Nathaniel said with a wink. "See ya later, Rick."
I walked around the outside of the cottage and back in through the kitchen door to clean up the debris left over from dinner preparations. The sounds of laughter from the living room were encouraging. If only the rest of the world could get along as well as these two boys from different countries, different cultures.
"You guys want to camp out in the living room tonight?" I offered, carrying a tray of hot cocoa in to them. "The sofa unfolds into a bed or you can carry blankets out on the porch like I used to do when I was your age."
I grinned with sudden recollections - a sleepover on the porch had led to my first same sex experience with an older cousin. Miguel would have to chart his own course through adolescence, just as I did.
"See you in the morning," I called out as I slipped between the cool crisp sheets of my own bed.
Soon fast asleep, I drempt of Sylvain and our final moments together in the jungles of eastern Ecuador. Hands wrapped around me from behind and a smooth slim body pressed in close. Warm moist lips kissed me gently on the nape of the neck bringing a familiar stirring of sexual response as I lengthened inch by inch. Turning on my back, I brought the hands slowly down my chest and abdomen and placed them around my hardening manhood. An eager mouth soon followed the hands, drawing my throbbing member deep into the slippery depths. Low murmurs of content accompanied the eager worshiping by a talented tongue. The sideways twisting and sucking quickly drew a deep orgasm to the surface forcing streams of milky liquid to gush forth. An eager mouth swallowed all and slowly, sensually kissed lightly up across my stomach and chest, coming to rest on my own feverish lips. We kissed deeply and passionately then gently parted. The smooth silky haired head dropped down to my chest, resting lightly as I drifted back into a deeper dreamless sleep.
"I love you," a young voice said sleepily, "and I never want to leave you."
CHAPTER TWO
I awoke early, but Miguel and Jeremie were already up and gone. The sofabed was returned to daytime position and the bedcoverings neatly folded. Racing through the shower and shave routine, I reflected back on the strange dream of last night, or was it reality? Did Miguel sleep in my bed or with Jeremie on the sofa? Did we have sex or was it the proverbial 'wet dream'? I would have to confront Miguel carefully and establish some ground rules for our 'family' situation.
"Morning, guys!" I called out cheerfully, entering the kitchen of the Great House.
Miguel looked up sleepily from his breakfast plate, while Jeremie hovered over the gleaming steel of the stove top.
"Mo'ning, Mistuh Rick, you want dem scrambled eggs and grits yo' like?"
"Sure, Jeremie, whatever you've got. I'm easy today," I grinned, slipping into a chair across from Miguel.
"You sleep alright?" I asked quietly, searching Miguel's face for a clue.
"Si, papa, gracias."
His expression remained stoic, his eyes non-committal.
"We need dem food supplies," Jeremie insisted, placing a steaming plate of my favorite breakfast food before me. "Nathaniel say Mistuh Tommie took lots of dem gues' bookin's."
"A full house for the weekend, eh?"
I pondered my plate - and my plight.
"We'll go into Montego Bay this morning, Miguel, to get you new clothes and Jeremie's list of supplies. Okay?"
He nodded in agreement.
"Well, that's settled then! I'll take my breakfast into the office and go over the reservations. You might want to shower and freshen up a bit before we try on new duds, young man."
"Si, papa," Miguel replied, scraping his chair back from the table.
"I'll be over at the cottage in a bit and we'll get started."
Tommie had been busy. We had reservations from New York, England, and even Colombia. I phoned Rose Hall to congratulate him on a job well done.
"And you'd better line up some other staff," Tommie advised after receiving my heartfelt thanks.
"Just thinking the same thing. Got anyone in mind?"
"No, but I'll put out the word," he offered. "Just beware of strangers. Remember your former cook and construction manager; we don't want anymore drug dealers."
"Amen!" I chuckled. "Miguel and I are going into town for supplies, thanks to you - we need them."
"It was a pleasure looking after Tara while you were gone."
"You mean Sugar Hill?"
"Yeah, sorry, was just watching 'Gone With The Wind' on DVD."
"Ah, the life of the idle rich," I joked.
"And bring your little boy over when you get a chance. I want to see if he looks like his old man."
"You wish!" I joked. "You couldn't handle two of me."
"I'd like to try," he replied seductively.
I got a hard on just listening to him and recalling our many encounters.
"I better go," I laughed, "before I cum!"
I stomped up the cottage stairs to give Miguel ample warning of my approach.
"Ready, sport?" I called out heartily upon entering the living room.
"In here, papa."
He was stretched across my bed in his fluffy white robe
"You don't love me anymore?" he questioned, pulling the robe open.
"Miguel!" I sputtered angrily. "You've got the wrong idea. We need to talk."
The trip into town was grimly silent. Miguel was pissed off at me. I had tried to explain the subtle difference between the romantic love of two men and the filial love of father and son. My entrusted mission to raise Sylvain's son was becoming a complex situation as my own raging hormones betrayed me. You don't fuck your son, even if he is adopted; and you don't have sex with a fourteen year old, no matter how physically endowed.
The experience of trying on new clothing was unique for Miguel, as he had never seen the inside of a Gap or Banana Republic. Our recent tiff gradually faded from mind as he beheld the power of the credit card.
"Now I look more like American boy," he mused aloud, staring at his own blue jean clad image in the dressing mirror.
"You'll be spoiled rotten by the time we get done here," I promised.
"No, papa, I be very, very good."
We moved like a whirlwind through the trendy shops of Montego Bay, stopping only for lunch. Our purchases literally filled the Land Rover as we headed back to Sugar Hill.
The slim young man stood on a rocky promitory facing the sea. His lean shirtless torso glistened with perspiration in the tropical sun. Thumbs were hooked into the waistband of close fitting jeans, hips thrust forward as lines of "Hamlet" spewed forth in competition with the roaring surf.
"You know Shakespeare well," I said loudly, breaking into his oratory.
"I am a thespian!" he announced, just as loudly.
"And what brings you to my stoney shoreline," I questioned with grinning smile, "the audience of crashing waves?"
"I need the job," he stated simply in lowered voice.
"Kim is enjoying a late lunch in the kitchen," I confided to Tommie from my office phone. "Just who the hell is he?"
"My gift to you," Tommie giggled in return, "a sexy kid to replace Sylvain."
"What I need is qualified kitchen help, not bedroom eyes reciting the classics to me."
"He's quite the good chef. Worked at the Marina until they down-sized. Last hired, first fired, don't you know."
"I don't think he's eaten in a week."
"Phillippe let him sleep on the boat when he got the axe. He had no where to go," Tommie explained.
"Another orphan," I said with exasperation.
"But highly qualified, in bed or out."
"I'm through with all that," I sputtered with indignation. "I have a child to raise."
"So Nathaniel reported," Tommie said slyly. "We'll see how long your self-imposed celibacy lasts this time!"
"You can vouch for his culinary skills?" I pressed on, ignoring is remark.
"Among other things - yes!"
Thus Kim joined our decimated staff, and just in time. Reservations had materialized and our guest rooms were quickly filling. Jeremie meshed perfectly with Kim just as he had with his cousin Jaime. They shared kitchen duties, cooking and serving. Nathaniel continued chauffeuring guests in from Sanger Airport. Our pool service took over groundskeeping duties. I discontinued presiding at table during dinners at the Great House and devoted myself to Miguel - keeping our life at the cottage separate from the business.
During one of the simple meals we shared together in our cozy cottage, I broached the subject of schooling.
"Miguel, we need to broaden your education. After all, you are the grandson of a president!"
Silence ensued. His troubled eyes met mine across the candlelit table.
"Must I go away, Papa?"
"No, no, of course not."
I rose from my chair and carried our empty plates to the kitchen.
"Nathaniel has found us a wonderful tutor right here in Montego Bay. He can drive you into town in the morning and bring you back home in the afternoon," I enthused. "You have a lot a catching up to do, young man."
He silently set to his chores, washing the dishes, while he pondered my words.
"What will you do all day without me?" he called through the kitchen door.
"I will be attending to our guest house business so we can continue to live?"
He came in from the kitchen, encircling me with his arms from behind as I sat on the wicker settee in our little living room.
"It is settled," he announced with finality. "I will become an educated man to make you proud of me."
"I am very proud of you, Miguel," I responded with misted eyes as I hugged him close.
My little man was growing up.
"Geez! They didn't have teachers like that when I was in school," I muttered under my breath.
"Don't let the package fool you," Nathaniel whispered in return. "A true genius lurks inside."
He stood in the doorway of a little house on McKenzie Lane. Fine beads of perspiration stood out on his dark chisled chest. Jeans hung seductively around slim hips, revealing 2(x)ist stamped on the waistband of boxers underneath.
Miguel trailed slowly behind as Nathaniel and I strode up to the door.
"Kendall, take good care of our young man. His guardian Rick," he added with a nod to me as I stepped forward to shake hands.
I was regarded with cool calculating eyes, my gesture of greeting ignored.
"Well, Miguel, you going to be alright then?" I managed to stammer in my discomfort.
"He'll be fine," Kendall thundered. "Now leave us, the education begins."
"You two don't seem particularly close," I noted as we took refuge in the Bentley and pulled away from the house.
Miguel's wistful backward glance at our departing car gave me pangs of regret. I almost ordered Nathaniel to turn around and retrieve my little boy.
"He'll be fine, Papa! " Nathaniel teased. "As for the other, Kendall's been kind of a loner since he arrived here from the States. I check in on him once a week, but we don't exactly socialize."
"And you're sure I can trust him with Miguel? I don't want any hermits in the family."
"Relax, Miguel needs to learn every viewpoint. I trust you to give him a strong family tie to keep him on the right path."
"Long as it's not the 'shining path'," I joked.
Nathaniel shot a puzzled glance my way, but Shore Road traffic drew his attention back to the driving.
"There's another little matter that you might need to take care of, before it gets out of hand," he began. "Your new boy Kim's been puttin' the make on some of your guests."
"How come you know all this and I don't?"
"You've been sequestered with Miguel and not paying attention to your business. The advantages of being a taxi driver - people unload on you! On the way back to the airport, I get all the complaints."
"I'd think the single guests would be flattered by attention from a cute young guy like Kim."
"But not the couples. Breeds disharmony in the relationship."
"Yeah, I get your point. What should I do, oh wise counselor?"
"Have a heart to heart with the kid, and I don't mean 'hard to hard'. Be a father figure to Kim as well as Miguel. Everyone needs a family."
"Amen!" I agreed.
CHAPTER THREE
"Where's Kim?" I demanded, storming into the kitchen.
"He be upstairs, Mistuh Rick. Som'in' wrong?"
"Maybe. Just where upstairs?"
"Takin' coffee up to that for'in guy."
"You mean Valdez in the corner room?"
"Yessuh, dat be da one."
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