Desperate Husbands

In this picturesque coastal village they call Wonderland, Alice doesn’t live here anymore. Well, she certainly doesn’t reside on Eldon Court, a quiet stretch of road that dead ends up against a rocky cliff and a lush view of the Pacific Ocean’s crashing waves. On this exclusive street, five beautifully restored Victorian houses loom over the water. Inside three of these classic homes lived couples joined by a common lifestyle and the desire for privacy. Surprisingly they were all men; they were lovers and partners; property owners and contributing members of a vibrant seafront community. They were the residents of a street named Eldon Court in a village called Wonderland.
Currently two houses remained silent and unsold, and if there is any wonder as to why no one had snapped up these properties, well, let’s just say Wonderland is bucolic and lovely, but also not without its secrets.
But new people came to Wonderland all the time, with such desirable houses on the market, there is little doubt they would soon be sold.
Yes, new neighbors were coming to Eldon Court.
And Wonderland would never again be the same.
* * * *
Sitting at the bar of the Bayside Hotel on the outskirts of Wonderland, Marc Anderson gazed lovingly at the man seated next to him, their eyes locking through the martini glasses held up to their faces. They drank intently, never once losing focus on what mattered most: the burning desire between them. A small candle flickered beside them in an otherwise dim room. They weren’t alone but might as well have been. None of the other guests were paying them any mind. It was almost as if they were alone in this room, in this hotel, and this bar. This very moment.
Finally Marc set down his drink, the stinging effects of the vodka having traveled from tongue to gullet, and realized the glass was near empty. What next? Another round, or something a bit more intimate? He wondered what it would be like with him? The man at his side was the larger of them, dressed in a stylish dark blue suit and tie, even at this late hour. He still had the top button secured, as though afraid to let his hair down in such a public environment. But then he reached over with his hand to caress Marc’s face. He knew he was cute, he’d been told that ever since his grandmother had pinched his cheeks as a child. His smile widened, and somehow words didn’t seem necessary for what was to come next. Still, Marc leaned in and said, “I want you so bad, I can taste it.”
Before the other man could reply, the bartender approached them, eyed the empty glasses and said, “So, you two need another round here?” He had thinning gray hair, complete with a ponytail, and his smoker’s voice pointed to a man that’d lived a decent life on the hippie side of things. No distractions there, sorry pal.
The suited gentleman ran a hand through his dark hair and turned to the older barkeep. “No, thank you. I believe it’s time we moved on. I’ve got a big appointment in the morning, need my rest.” Then he paused and looked back at Marc. “Unless you want another?”
Marc shook his head. “I’m good. I know what I want.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“Get a room, guys, get a room,” the bartender stated jokingly.
“The name’s Rich. Richard in my business, but my friends have always called me Rich.”
“So what should I call you?”
Rich answered the question by dangling a card key. “Oh, I think by night’s end you’ll have your own name for me.”
They finished off the remnants of their Grey Goose martinis (“very dirty…” had been the request by the now-named Rich) and slipped a few extra bucks on the bar just because. At last they were ready for whatever the night held. Each other, no doubt. Rich eagerly took hold of Marc’s hand as they exited the bar and entered the brightly lit lobby. Marc made an effort to reclaim his hand.
“Relax, no one cares.”
Marc took in his elegant surroundings, looking at the smartly-uniformed workers behind the high oak desks and at the moneyed guests passing through the lobby, and realized how right Rich was. No one looked at them askance; like it was the most natural thing in the world for two men to be holding hands in public. Just what kind of place was this Wonderland? Living up to its name? Back east where Marc hailed from, you still got funny looks, smirks or worse -- nasty remarks. Marc exhaled as he came to the conclusion that maybe he liked this place.
Marc kept pace with his new friend, watching as the man inserted the card key into a slot right beside an elevator.
“Penthouse suite—this elevator goes directly into the room.”
“Nice touch,” Marc offered.
The two of them got inside the elevator where the button for the penthouse suite was already lit. Suddenly the doors closed and at last they were alone. Rich pinned him against the wall, instantly and violently pressing his lips to his. The kiss was hungry, born of a desire that had grown while they’d enjoyed their late-night cocktails. And speaking of, Rich’s growing cock was pressed tight up against him, obviously turned-on. Marc groaned at both the feel of Rich’s kiss and the sudden promise of what was to come. His hand encircled Rich’s body, gripping his back and wanting nothing more than to tear his clothes off.
The elevator was fast and before anything further could be consummated, a ding sounded and the doors opened directly into the twentieth and top floor. They broke from their kiss at the sound of the doors opening; express elevators certainly had their advantages but also drawbacks. Still, it’s not like anyone else would be requesting its services. Rich depressed the “stop” button and the doors remained open, the elevator all theirs.