Pairing Foolery

People were willing to do so much to reach and stay at the top of sports pinnacles.

"I'm going horseback riding with Vlad Starnovic up into the mountains later this morning," he said. "Maybe he'll give me some insights into the relationships going here."

"Yes, that's a good idea," Denise said. "I'll be meeting Slava Dantic in the gym after the Blakes and Tracey Parsons have gone through their routine and driven down to the Broadmoor Club rinks. He's agreed to give me some good exercise pointers."

I'll just bet he has, Todd thought. But he didn't say anything and he lifted his coffee mug to his lips to cover his knowing smile. He didn't begrudge her. He hoped to be enjoying himself on his ride into the mountains. He was itching to be ridden, and he hoped that what he took as signals of a power top from Vlad were true.

On the mountainside, the two men, Vlad and Todd, stretched out beside each other, calming their pulses and regaining their libidos following the doggy fuck, Todd took the opportunity to try to gather some information that would progress the Globe article research.

"So, you're not fucking your skating partner, Sydney. That's what the gossips say. I'll admit that's one of the aspects we're looking into for our article. Or maybe you are. Maybe you're bi?"

Vlad snorted. "Me, bi? I thought the gossips would have figured that out when I separated from my first partner. She wanted sex too, but I only want men—good-looking, submissive men like you." He reached over and grasped Todd's cock and began to stroke. He was stroking himself with his other hand. They weren't finished fucking. That was just fine with Todd. "No, I'm not fucking Sydney. She's getting what she wants, though."

"From Slava Dantic?" Todd asked.

Vald laughed. "I tell you enough. I won't write your article for you. I will, though, fuck you again. I will fuck all thoughts out of you to want to put me and my appetite for men out of your article." He moved to come up over Todd, who was lying on his back. Vlad coaxed the reporter's legs open and knelt between them. "Slava is bi, yes. I'm not, but Slava is. He go after Sydney, though, and I cut his dick off. Slava is for me. I like to share with Slava—but share woman, no. You no put me, like this, in your article, right?"

"Certainly not. I'd have to expose myself as well, and certainly not, if . . . Oh, shit; oh fuck!"

Vlad was hovering over Todd, between Todd's spread and bent legs. One strong hand was clutching Todd's throat, holding the reporter's head to the ground as Todd raised his arms, his hands scrabbling at tree roots above his head. Vlad's other hand went under Todd, palming the smaller man's lower back, raising and rolling his pelvis up to give Vlad straight-shot access. Todd let out a cry as the Russian entered him again, strongly and deep, and began to pump.

"Yes, yes, YES!" Todd cried out, starting to put his hips into a rocking motion, taking the cock again, hard and deep.

* * * *

That night, the night of April 1st, Todd lay on his bed, on top of the sheets, on his back, a pillow under the small of his back to elevate his pelvis, and his legs spread and bent, feet flat on the mattress. Beside him, on the nightstand, were packets of condoms and a bottle of lube. Also, there was a ball gag. He was in the house. On the mountainside, Vlad Starnovic had pulled a good bit of noise out of him during cock play. Todd didn't want to worry about noise in the house. He did want the cock play.

He lay there for an hour or more, his door to the corridor cracked open so Vlad would know he could enter, waiting for the Russian hunk to attend him. But Vlad didn't show, and, eventually, exhausted from the horse ride and the bull's cocking, Todd drifted off to sleep.

Across the corridor, behind another door that was cracked open, Denise Standish waited in a similar position for Slava Dantic to visit her. She wasn't as exhausted as Todd was, though. She didn't sleep. Eventually, she got out of bed, pulled on a black T-shirt and leggings that she deemed sexy enough, and left the ranch house. If he wouldn't come to her, she would go to him.

The night was dark and only a sliver of the moon was showing. Denise didn't have to creep about. She went directly to Slava's cottage that was connected to the ranch's large and well-equipped gym. The cottage was dark, but there were lights on in the gym. She quietly approached a window into the gym and observed what was in there. And what was in there pulled a gasp out of her, and a muttered, "Shit. Fuck."

That's what was going on in the gym—fucking. It suddenly all became clear to her. There were three of them, using a padded weight-lifting bench. Hank Blake, Sydney's past figure skating partner and current coach, was being sandwiched. He was being held between Vlad Starnovic and Slava Dantic. All three men were naked. All three men had great, muscular bodies. The fuck was a slow dance of delight, Vlad holding Hank from in front and fucking him in the anal passage. Slava was holding Hank from behind and fucking him in the same channel. They were taking him in long, coordinated slides of long, thick cocks. As one was withdrawing to the rim of his cock head, the other was sliding in to the root. Held securely between them, Hank was staring at the ceiling and crying out in pained ecstasy. The two Russians were doubling the American, who was in ninth heaven, taking both cocks together inside him, writhing and gasping and moaning.

When they were done, they sat around on other pieces of equipment and lit up cigarettes, talking and laughing among themselves. Hank hadn't run from them when they were finished with him. Hank had been getting what he wanted. This obviously was an activity they engaged in often. Denise didn't leave. She stayed, taking it all in, weaving together what she was learning about what was behind the switch in pairs partners.

It didn't have anything to do with Sydney changing sex as well as skating partners. Nor was Tracey Parsons any part of this, which Jeff Davenport would be delighted to learn. Vlad had been brought in not only because Hank had been wanting to leave the pair because he was tired of living with injuries from the skating, but also because he was gay. He wanted Vlad and Slava as lovers.

Of course, Sydney might be going with it because maybe Vlad was bi—Slava certainly was, to which Denise could attest—and Sydney got a hunky Russian lover in the package. That still didn't involve Tracey Parsons.

Denise was already weaving a feature article in her mind. Davenport wanted it to be a favorable article. She and Todd could take what research they had, spin off the sexual part they had learned and do a "feel good" article about keeping on with skating even after one partner was retired by injuries. The Blakes' life on the ranch and involvement in the Broadmoor Club and the Ice Skating Hall of Fame in Colorado Springs served a "feel good" message. Vlad need not be mentioned much, and Slava not at all.

At least not mentioned in this article. Maybe there was some gossip magazine she could sell this to that would keep her name secret. She didn't want to get into the middle of this mess publicly.

After Vlad and Hank had dressed and left the gym, arm in arm, headed for the ranch house, Only Slava remained. He didn't dress. He moved around the gym, checking and cleaning off equipment, preparing to turn the lights out and go back to the living side of his cottage.

Denise momentarily contemplated following him into his living quarters. That's what she'd come for. She'd come for him. But having watched him complete a double-penetration fuck of another man had cooled her down and turned her off—turned her off in terms of coupling with him herself. She'd remained, watching then, because their bodies in consuming motion were a delight to watch. So, instead, she came out of the shadows and followed Vlad and Hank back to the ranch house. She watched them through a window onto the front porch until both of them went through the doorway into the family wing of the house and closed the hall door behind them.

That was their world. Denise was closed out from there. She entered the house and into the large, rock-and-log walled living room, with its soaring ceiling to the beams overhead and massive stone fireplace. Some of the lamps around the room were still on, set on dim. The room was kept perpetually lighted in a soft glow. Denise was moving toward the corridor into the guest wing, when a woman's voice arrested her attention.

"So, now you know. Will that be in your article?"

"Now I know what?" Denise asked, turning into the conversation pit in front of the fireplace and watching Sydney Blake sit up on a sofa.

"I was outside, watching you watch them—in the gym—the men. Now you know our secret . . . that Vlad was acquired for Hank, not for me."

"But was he—just for Hank? Does he fuck you too?" Denise asked. "And, no, this won't go into the article. We were sent to do a fluff piece on you and the figure-skating pair, not an exposé."

"Vlad's a hunk, isn't he?" Sydney answered. "He would be my reward for letting Hank have what he's always wanted. But, of course, I won't say one way or the other. Having Vlad as my partner is reward enough. We're winning more now than I won with Hank. Vlad is a better skater than Hank is, or ever was. That's enough of a reward for me in letting Hank have what he wants."

"Well, then," Denise said. "As I said, none of it will be in the article."

"Good," Sydney said. "So, you've gotten what you want and you'll be leaving in the morning?"

"Yes," Denise answered. She recognized it for the dismissal that it was. It wasn't really a question.

Denise stopped at Todd's door en route to her own room. The door was slightly ajar and the room was dimly lit from a night light. Todd lay, naked, on his back on the bed. She drew in her breath with appreciation of how beautiful the man's body was. He was in half erection. What woman, she wondered, was he thinking in his sleep of fucking. Could it be her? She wouldn't stop trying to make the man—not any more than any of the other women, young and old, at the Globe would.

She came to the bed and touched him on the shoulder. Todd snorted and came awake. He gave a panicked look when he saw it was her and not someone else, and in one deft move, he pulled the sheet around himself and sat up on the side of the bed. He was aware that he was half hard, having been dreaming of being covered by Vlad. God, he hoped Denise did think he was dreaming of her.

"Just wanted to tell you that we leave in the morning," Denise said. "I've been sleuthing and have had it explained to me. Tracey Parsons isn't any part of it. Both Hank Blake and Vlad Starnovic are gay and are a couple. This whole arrangement is to keep that covered up. Understand? The men are gay and having at it with each other."

"Oh, I knew that," Todd said. "And if we're leaving in the morning, we'd both better get sleep tonight."

He gave her a meaningful look, and Denise got the dismissal missile and moved toward the door, although her first instinct had been to ask Todd how he'd thought he'd known Vlad and Hank were gay. Someday, she thought, he'd have it out and on with Todd, but she realized that it wouldn't be tonight. Naïve as she was about such things, she couldn't fathom how Todd would have known that Hank Blake and Vlad Starnovic were actively gay.

Later, Sydney went into the family wing, but not to her own room. She went to Tracey Parson's room. Tracey had been waiting for her in bed—in their bed.

"I'm in a mood. Make love to me," Sydney said when she entered the bedroom. "That Denice is a real dish. Somehow I don't think she and I would be good together, though. Not like you and I are good together. Fuck me."

Tracey, the dominant of the two women did, pulling Sydney down onto the bed, stripping her, and then moving her mouth down from Tracey's mouth to her simmering breasts and down over her belly to the center of her, where Tracey feasted, holding the smaller, lighter woman in shuddering and moaning captivity, until Sydney exploded and melted and collapsed back onto the bed.

"I'm worried," Tracey said as they lay, entwined, and cooled down.

"About what?" Sydney asked.

"These reporters. I'm afraid they'll learn about us. They're from the Boston Globe, Jeff's paper. I'm afraid he's sent them to find out if there's something between us—if I like women more than men. That I won't give him a great time in bed."

"There is something between us—no, there's rarely anything between us when we're fucking," Sydney said, and laughed.

"It's not funny. I want this marriage. I want the financial security it will give me. I'm willing to pretend I worship Jeff's cock to get what I need."

"And you need the cover for wanting to fuck women more than men. You have a public reputation to protect."

"Yes, that too," Tracey admitted.

"Well, you needn't worry," Sydney said. "It's taken care of."

"Taken care of? How?"

"They are leaving in the morning—the fools. The April Fools," Sydney said, with a laugh. "And the Standish woman admitted to me that they were instructed to do a fluff piece. We're safe. They won't report it, but they're chasing a red herring. They're being fools. They think the secret here is about men fucking men—not about you fucking me."

And there the more interesting April story for the Boston Globe was put to bed—at least until Denice could find a protected hookup with a glossy gossip sheet to dish the real dirt.