Clean Living

Notes: *Clean Sweep. Yiddish terms: Fachadick—Extremely confused, schein yingle--pretty boy

Clean Living, 2/?
by Scribe

Chapter Two
Good News

"That's one good candidate," said Prescot. His eyes twinkled, "And somehow I don't think he'll have to campaign very hard, though he might let Trent offer kisses for votes." Laughter. "But we need TWO representatives, so let's hear some more nominations."

There was a murmur of conversation. Clive tweaked one of Trenton's curls and said quietly, "If I win the candidacy, dear, is it going to interfer with your activities?" This was important to Clive. Trent would be on break from school during the convention's duration, but he had serious committments to his swimming regime. He'd been working toward a place on the Olympic team since he was fourteen. Clive supported and encouraged him in every way, and Trenton credited this as a major part of why he was succeeding in his chosen field of competition.

Trenton would never have willingly slacked off, but if he'd ever shown a tendency Clive would have been there to remind him, with a firm word or touch, just where his best interests lay. "No, it won't interfer," Trenton assured him.

"You're smiling, pet." Clive's eyes narrowed. "You're smiling more than that warrents. What are you up to?"

Trenton's smile broadened, and he stroked Clive's thigh. "Later."

"Hm." Someone was raising their hand for recognition from the MC. "All right, but only because we have other business right now."

Prescot pointed to the woman who'd raised her hand. "Lilah?"

The woman, a plump redhead who had two handsome, semi-naked young men sitting at her feet, stood and said quietly, "I nominate Chloe Fassbinder. I know that some members may think that we ought to have both a gay," she nodded at Clive and Trenton, "and a heterosexual couple, but Chloe and Mathilda are happy to do mixed scenes, and it would show the uninitiated that our lifestyle doesn't have to be one way or the other."

"That's a good point," said Prescot. He cocked his head. "But why not yourself, Rose?"

"Well, besides the fact that modesty forbids..." There was laughter, and she shrugged, reaching down to caress the hair of first one submissive, then the other. "Our kids will be out of school, and who can get good babysitters these days? Besides, the funds won't stretch to taking two submissives, and I couldn't leave either of my boys behind." The men each took one of her hands and kissed her palm, and she gave them affectionatly gentle, tapping slaps on the cheek.

Clive raised his hand. "I'll second the nomination. Mathilda and Trenton could keep each other out of mischief."

Chloe rolled her eyes melodramatically. "Or get each other INTO mischief," she said dryly. "But I'll accept the nomination." She reached over and straightened Mathilda's collar. "I'm a great believer in education through experience, and travel."

Mathilda laid her head on Chloe's shoulder, playing with the buttons on the front of her blouse. "I love you, Mommy."

Chloe dropped a kiss on her forehead. "I love you, too, brat."

Mathilda's smile was contented. "I know."

There were no other nominations. The vote was a formality, and Chloe and Clive were elected to attend the convention. They went on to finish up old business, then the floor was open to discussion of places to see and things to do in Vegas when there were no official convention activities. Despite the possibility of her bottom getting tickled, Mathilda joined Trenton on the floor and, once permission had been obtained, they whispered and giggled together for the rest of the meeting.

Mathilda was thrilled. She was a city girl, and had never been very far outside Metropolis. The excitement of being taken to a famous, glitzy city like Las Vegas was almost overwhelming. Trenton's one experience with travel had included dark, painful moments*, but this time he would be with Clive. He leaned his head against Clive's knees as he continued chatting to Mathilda. It never occurred to him to be afraid when he was with Clive.

The meeting proper concluded, and the members spent an hour or so simply socializing. The bedrooms in the back of the apartment were available, but no one took advantage. It might have surprised outsiders that not every meeting of the Doms and Dommes Club ended in an orgy, but that was the point of the club. They didn't have to be only their sexual personas when they were together--they could simply be themselves.

When they were ready to leave, Mathilda accompanied Trenton when he went back to get redressed. Clive had enlisted Chloe and Mathilda in helping Trenton get over the modesty that was totally unnecessary at their gatherings. It had taken a while, but now Trenton could strip in front of others without blushing himself to death--as long as he knew they were part of the D/s lifestyle, or non-judgemental. As the two young people disappeared into the back hall, Clive called, "And don't you DARE take that harness off, Trenton!" He was answered by a giggle. He shook his head, saying to Chloe, "He'll either leave it on to please me, or take it off to earn a spanking. I try to make him think that he can't surprise me, but it doesn't always work."

Chloe smiled. "I know how it is. Mathilda's a dear girl, but sometimes she jerks my chain just to get punished." She sighed. "We're both very lucky."

"I know, Chloe. I know that well." When Trenton and Mathilda came out again, Clive pointed to a spot before him. Trenton immediately hurried over and took a stand in the indicated place, his posture as erect as any Marine. "Around." Trenton didn't click his heels, but he turned briskly, spinning in place. Clive reached out and passed his hand over Trent's back, feeling the bands of leather under his shirt. Clive patted his back. "Good boy." Trenton tipped a smile at him over his shoulder, and Clive pinched his ass. "I'm not saying you won't be spanked, but if you are, it will be recreational instead of corporal."

Trenton looked at Mathilda and whispered, "Nyah ha ha. See how my evil plan succeeds?"

Clive shook his head as he steered his lover toward the door. "The boy DOES enjoy pushing the envelope."

~*~

They arrived back at Clive's building, and Clive, half amused, was scolding Trent. "You've been virtually CHORTLING the entire way home. The last time you were this pleased with yourself was when you talked Bryant into posing as a Strip-o-Gram for my birthday--at Lavender's Green."

"I didn't have to push too hard," said Trent cheerfully. "He made some really good tips afterward, and Mrs. Havasnark has been trying to talk him into performing for her quilting group ever since."

"I'm glad he's refused. The poor boy would never forgive himself if any of the ladies had heart attacks." Clive had unlocked the street door and they entered the hall. As he shut and locked the door they were once again surrounded by cats. "Fudge. Didn't you latch that flap, Trent?"

The door to Mrs. Havasnark's door opened and the lady herself appeared. She was resplendent in a black satin kimono that was positively encrusted with elaborate embroidery in scarlet, purple, green, and orange. Flowers bloomed, cats arched, dragons froliced, cloud demons blew gales at them all. She was an oriental vision except for two things--the chopsticks holding her bun in place were thrust into hair aproximately the shade of orange juice, and the shoes peeking out from under her hem were not slippers, but black canvas tennis shoes. "He did," she said, "But my babies need a little exercise, so I leave it open till I go to bed. Did you two have a nice meeting with your other slap-and-tickle friends?"

Trenton almost bounced over to her and gave her a hug, kissing one soft, wrinkled, heavily rouged cheek. "We're going to Las Vegas, Snarky!"

She brightened. "Nu? You finally talked your man into taking a real vacation, Trent?"

"We are going as Dom-sub ambassadors of good will," said Clive, coming over and kissing her as well. No one knew for sure if Mrs. Letitia Havasnark actually had any living blood relatives, but her adopted family was both extensive, and ecclectic. "We have been chosen as representatives to the national club's convention."

She clasped her hands, eyes shining. "Ah, conventions! Bubbie, I could tell you some stories..."

"You always can, you dirtly old lady. Is my lovely boarder still in there?"

"Yeah. He's been quizzing my beau about his time overseas during the last big war. Come on in. I want to fix you up a couple of plates of food, anyway. I have tons of leftovers."

"Shock, shock. The day that you run out of food too soon at any social event, Snarky, is the day that Superman and Lex Luthor dance the tango at high noon in the town square--televised."

There was a small card table set up in Mrs. Havasnark's living room. The surface that wasn't littered with ivory mah jongg tiles was covered in plates of food--cold cuts, fried chicken, macaroni and potato salad, chips, pickles, and cookies. These were the most readily identifiable comestibles. Havasnark was heading into the kitchen, which meant that there was probably a full counter in there. Bryant McAllister and his former neighbor--Walter Bellows--were sitting, chatting companionably. Walter Bellows had taken a protective interest in Bryant when he realized that Priory Lowel was abusing and exploiting the young man, and he'd done everything but applaud when Bryant finally stood up and won his independence. Mrs. Havasnark had taken a fancy to Mr. Bellows, and vice versa, and he visited on a regular basis. Since Bryant was living upstairs with Clive and Trenton, they'd run into each other occasionally, and a genuine friendship had developed. Bryant had never really had a father, and Mr. Bellows loved his daughter, but had sometimes wondered what it would be like to have a son. Everyone was happy with the situation.

Clive and Trenton were greeted, and Bryant said, "Mister Bellows was just telling me about war time rationing. Did you know that for a while they issued coins made out of pressed cardboard in order to conserve metal?"

"Not from personal experience, pet," said Clive dryly, "though I do remember reading something about that in a book."

Mrs. Havasnark called from the kitchen, "Everything was rationed: meats, sugar, tires..."

Trenton blinked. "That's quite a jump, from food to tires."

"You're so young," said Mrs. Havasnark.

"You can't fault the young people," said Mr. Bellows. "Most of them have never had to live through times of real deprivation, and that's good. It's what we fought for."

Bryant offered his hand. "On behalf of my generation--thanks."

Bellows looked touched as he shook Bryant's hand. "You're welcome, son."

Mrs. Havasnark came back in, carrying a large paper grocery bag. "The real hardship was that you couldn't get hose at all. They needed the silk and nylon for parachutes. Of course I was happy that my giving up a little luxury could help our boys, but putting on that leg make-up was tedious, and if you didn't have a friend with a steady hand to draw the line up the back of your legs you were out of luck." Trenton was blinking rapidly. "Look at the shein yingle. I got him all fachadick."

"Trenton," said Clive, "You've seen the pictures in that 'leg magazine' you found at Prescott's place Christmas? Didn't you notice that most of the stockings had seams that ran up the back?" His expression brightened in understanding. "He's a quick study, is my lamb. Snarky, we ate at the meeting."

She pushed the sack into his hands. "So you have a nosh if you wake up in the middle of the night, or you don't have to worry about lunch tomorrow."

Trenton eyed the sack. "That looks like we won't have to worry about lunch OR dinner, and that's if Mom drops by and brings Henderson."

"It won't go to waste," she said confidently. Clive put a hand on his hip, looking down at the lean curve, then looking at her pointedly. She shrugged, totally unapologetic. "If you can't finish it, just give it to my babies. They'll take care of it."

Since Clive was carrying the food, the cats were winding themselves seductively around his shins, purring and mewing. "I'm sure they will. I don't see how they haven't turned into furry butterballs."

"I don't feed them only people food," she said indignantly. "That would be abuse. My babies get a premium catfood that's been scientifically formulated to give them the right vitamins, minerals, and nutrients." She picked up a sleek Siamese and snuggled it. The cat gave her whisker kisses in return. "They just get snacks."

"They get snacks that would feed a small family," said Clive wryly, "but whatever you do, it seems to work. The beasts are almost frighteningly healthy. Well, thank you for your bounty, but we ought to go on up."

Mrs. Havasnark passed out hugs again, managing to give each of their behinds a quick squeeze. Neither took offense--they recognized it as an affectionate tribute. Bryant assured them that he had his key and would be up soon. They went upstairs and Clive said, "I'd better unpack and store this stuff right away. I might fuss about being overladen, but she fried that chicken herself, and it smells delicious."

He went into the kitchen and loaded the food into the refrigerator. It took him a few minutes because he had to rearrange things a little. There had been times in Clive's life when his refrigerator had held little more than half-full bottles of milk and juice, and perhaps a partially used stick of butter. Then Trenton had moved in and those days were long gone. Then he spent another minute debating about whether or not he was going to eat that drumstick, and then resisting and having a cookie instead. He promised himself to do twenty sit ups before going to bed.

He expected Trenton to most likely be waiting for him in bed when he finally emerged, but he'd misjudged this time, though Trenton might arguably be considered ready for bed. He'd stripped again, this time removing the thong as well. He was clad only in leather, chrome, and his own fine hide, and Clive felt his throat tighten. Trenton was waiting as he'd posed in the doorway at the meeting--posture very correct, hands folded, but eyes gleaming with glee, excitement, and anticipation.

Clive didn't disappoint him. He said quietly, "Come here, boy." Trenton sank gracefully to his knees, then crawled over to Clive. The thought of forced submission was repugnant to Clive, but this, Trenton's full hearted and joyful surrender and trust, was one of the sweetest things Clive had ever known. Trenton knelt before Clive. His arms snaked up, wrapping around the Dom's waist, and Trenton laid his cheek against Clive's thigh, giving a contented sigh. Clive caressed his hair. "Do you know how beautiful you are?"

"When I'm with you," Trenton murmured.

"Are you ready to tell me what your secret is?"

Trenton looked up the length of Clive's torso. "Play first?"

Clive smiled indulgently and pinched his chin. "You're naughty for making me wait."

Trenton took the hint. "Maybe you ought to spank me."

"Maybe I should. Bedroom." Trenton immediately turned and crawled toward the bedroom. Clive followed slowly, enjoying the flex and sway of his lover's ass. Once in the bedroom Clive indicated the foot of the bed, and Trenton crawled up on it, huddling in a comfortable crouch. He watched as Clive did a liesurely strip, taking the time to fold and pile his clothes. Clive was fully erect by the time he'd finished, and Trenton was starting to squirm. His own erection was hidden by his body, but Clive knew it was there. He knew that the boy's belly and thighs would already be dappled by slick pre-seminal fluid.

Clive sat on the edge of the bed and patted his thighs. "Assume the position, darling." Trenton crawled over and draped himself across Clive's lap, letting his legs dangle off one side. He hooked one arm around Clive's back and used the other to grip his knee for support. They'd learned from experience that if he didn't anchor himself he might end up on the floor during one of their more vigorous sessions. Trenton's ass was perfectly framed by gleamins leather straps, and Clive took his time admiring it. Then he squeezed the taut globes firmly, leaned over, and nipped one curve sharply. Trenton yipped in surprise, as Clive said, "I had to do that because you look positively edible. I think I'd like to fuck you tonight, sweetheart. Do you want to be prepared now, or after your spanking?"

"Oo, I get to choose! Now, please. It rubs so nicely when I wiggle."

"My practical pet. Reach over and get the lube out of the drawer, then." As Trenton stretched and opened the drawer Clive said, "Make it the oil, dear. I want to work on that luscious ass." Trenton fished out a small plastic squeeze bottle--it was about the size used for eye wash. He handed it back to Clive, then resumed his grip, wiggling in anticipation. They kept several kinds of lube--the common ointment type in a tube, plain and flavored, and a little of the liquified type. It could be used as a massage oil as well as a lubricant.

Clive squeezed out a series of drips and beads on Trenton's ass, then laid aside the almost empty bottle. He rubbed, smoothing the oil in an even film, then started to knead firmly. After a moment Clive spread Trenton's cheeks, working the oil into the deep crease, and beginning to rub small circles around the tiny pucker of his lover's anus. When he felt the tight muscle begin to soften, Clive again picked up the little squeeze bottle. He pressed the tip right against the center of the crinkle and pressed lightly. The tip slipped in, and he squeezed. Trenton shivered as he felt the oil, warmed by Clive's hand on the bottle, oozing in. Then Clive laid aside the bottle and slowly slid one finger deep into the sheath of Trenton's body. Trenton cooed in pleasure as Clive began to pump the finger in and out. When Clive added another finger, Trent moaned, and when his lover crooked his fingers and stroked the boy's prostate, Trenton whimpered. Clive kissed his back, and withdrew his fingers, saying, "I think that will be sufficient. Now..." Clive sat back up and brought the flat of his palm down smartly on Trent's ass. The slickness of the oil made his hand slide a little so that the force wasn't as focussed as it might have been, but it added a touch of sharpness to the sensation. "My, that made a splendid noise." Clive traced the faint pink smudge that was already rising on Trenton's white skin. "Is it going to hurt too much, precious?"

"No, sir," said Trenton. He wiggled. "It smarts a little more than if you're doing it dry, but it's nothing like when we use alcohol. That STINGS."

"And that's why it's so seldom used. Settle in, darling. I'm not going to be able to draw this out for long." He started spanking Trenton briskly, spacing his blows evenly so that no one spot was the focus. That was the way to leave bruises, and as far as Clive was concerned bruises should be restricted to hickies. By the time Trenton's ass was warm and glowing both of the men were close to the edge. Clive, breathing heavily, grabbed Trenton's shoulders and helped him to his feet. "On your back, love. I want to look at you tonight."

Trenton scrambled onto the bed, getting in position on his back. Without being ordered he lifted and spread his legs, hooking his arms under his knees to leave himself as open as possible for his lover. Clive moved up into position, moving over Trenton, and entered him with one slow, smooth stroke. He didn't hesitate because he knew that the boy was already well relaxed and lubricated. He also knew that while Trenton enjoyed long, slow love making, he also occasionally enjoyed it quick and a little rough. He'd chosen Clive because he was forceful, and he loved it when Clive exercised that force because he trusted the older man. He knew that Clive would never try to push him too far.

Trenton crooned happily as he was filled with hot, solid flesh. He knew every inch of his lover, and while he loved all of Clive, he was particularly fond of these inches. The sensations and reactions that Clive could wring from him were nothing short of mind boggling. Now Clive pumped into him in a steady rhythm. He gripped the headboard with one hand for support, but the other hand wandered over Trenton, finding and stimulating errogenous zones. Trenton's nipples were tweaked and rubbed, his ribs and armpits tickled. This made Trenton laugh, but just when it was starting to distract him from the matter at hand Clive would jerk his hips a little harder, bumping Trent's prostate, and the boy's attention would be back where it belonged. Finally Clive reached down and wrapped his hand around his lover's stiff, wavering cock, and began to masturbate him. His hand moved quickly and strongly, squeezing almost roughly in time with his thrusts. Trenton yowled in appreciation and came, his come splashing far up his heaving belly. Clive climaxed just after, dropping his weight on the boy with a grunt as his come pulsed out, filling Trenton with liquid heat.

After a moment Clive rolled off Trenton and pulled the boy into his arms, massaging Trenton's thighs to be sure that there would be no cramps. He kissed Trent gently, and Trent sighed in bliss. "I'm glad I can't get pregnant." Clive chuckled, knowing what he was really saying. They'd dispensed with condoms early in their relationship, though both were always careful to use protection when they played with others. Trenton loved this extra margin of intimacy, relishing the slick feel as Clive's softening member slid out, it's way eased by his come.

"Are you ready to tell me your surprise?" Clive asked.

"Mmm..." Trenton murmured. "Sleepy..."

"Trenton Vespasian Vittelli..."

"I was kidding, I was kidding! Actually, it's two surprises. Which do you want first--the very personal, or the pretty personal?"

"I'm going to spank you again."

"The pretty personal one--Mom and Henderson are getting married."

"Trent!" Clive sat up, looking down at him in delight. "Oh, that's wonderful. I'm so happy for her." He paused. "You ARE happy about this?"

"Heck yeah! Henderson's a nice guy, and he's very good to Mom, and good for her. He's got a nice house on the edge of town where she can housekeep to her heart's content. She never really liked that apartment--we weren't allowed to even hang pictures."

"Does this mean Attitudes is going to lose her? I want her to be happy, but I'd hate to lose her entirely."

"She hasn't said, but she loves it so much I doubt that she'll completely give up the job. She might want to work part time, if that's all right with you."

"Of course it will be all right. It'll take her whenever she can spare time. She's good, and she's reliable, besides being a sweet woman and the progenatior of the man I love. I'll do her hair for the wedding, of course. That IS good news, but what can be more personal than that, precious?"

"Just a second." Trenton sat up and leaned over to the night stand, rummaging in the drawer. He came up with a folded sheet of paper, then switched on the bedside lamp and sat back. He silently offered the paper to Clive. Clive took it, then gave Trenton a wry look. "You won't need your glasses. They used large print."

Clive unfolded the paper and started to read, only having to squint a tiny bit. "From the Offices of..." his voice trailed off, and he swallowed, then continued, "The Offices of the Olympic Committee, to Mister Trenton Vittelli. Dear Mister Vittelli, it is with the greatest pleasure that we inform you that you have been chosen to represent America in the upcoming Olympics which will be held next year in Japan. We will most likely ask you to compete in several events, including the relay. While there were a few contestants who posted individual times that were faster than some of yours, your history, consistant performance, and positive personal references have convinced us that you will be the best choice for this position. Please contact us as soon as possible with your decision. If you choose not to participate we will need to notify your replacement in a timely manner. Once again, congratulations, and we hope that you will choose to join us in this endeavor. We feel that it is a once in a lifetime chance to participate in history." Clive looked up at Trenton, whose eyes were shining. "If you choose not to participate. They don't know my lamb, do they?" He dropped the paper and held out his arms. "Precious..."

Trenton threw himself into Clive's arms and they held each other. Trenton had been working toward this moment since he was fourteen, since before he'd met Clive. Clive sighed, giving him a squeeze. "Oh, lord. Don't be worried, pet, but I think I'm going to cry."

Trenton hid a smile against Clive's chest. "If I wasn't worried when you cried at my graduation, why should I worry now?"