"You really ready for this, honey?" I could see the signs of nervousness in Maverick. "I know we've been talking about doing it, but we've had a lot going on today. We could wait for another night."
We had spent a large part of the afternoon down at the boys' room, working mostly with Holden — Marcus and Zuchter had to duck out periodically for classes. Maverick had gently tried, successfully, to sharpen Holden's memory of what methods he had used to train himself for the moves he had demonstrated at hanging class. It was crucial that Holden learn the teaching skills that would enable him to pass what he knew along to others. We had left the three boys with some reading assignments and returned to our room.
Maverick looked around the room and gave me a tiny smile. "What, after all these preparations? Anyway, I've just got three months to get done everything I want to do."
My quiet "Do you need me to leave?" was followed an instant later by a near panicked "NO!" from Maverick. I'd felt I needed to offer, though I'd anticipated that response. After all these years, Maverick still felt better in purely social situations if I was at least within sight, if not close enough to touch. Maverick had some very friendly working relationships, with Shaw, for example; Maverick was always comfortable when hanging was involved. Outside of that context, Maverick seemed very close to Zuchter, and to a lesser extent to Jack and Eric, but not really to anyone else.
There was a light tap at the door. Maverick pressed his hand against his stomach as if settling butterflies, and took a deep breath. I waited for Maverick to nod, and called out, "Come in."
Shaw looked in the door, smiling. "Okay, I didn't eat any dinner. Are we..." He stopped and shook his head slightly in surprise.
Maverick had taken care of the ambiance on his own. A table, actually two tray tables pushed together, borrowed from the rooms of two sets of dorm parents, was covered with a beach towel with a checkerboard design, serving as a tablecloth. There were plates and glasses, the glasses remotely resembling wineglasses, borrowed from the cafeteria — two of each, not three -- and a large bottle of fruit juice. On the dresser beside the table was a large pizza box, enclosed in a leather pouch to seal in the heat.
The only other things on the table were two candles, providing the room with a dim, flickering light. The blind on the window was drawn closed.
Maverick would have had a hard time saying to Shaw what kind of evening he hoped this would be tonight. The decor would allow him to skip over the explanation.
Shaw crept into the room, his mouth hanging slightly open. He was still shaking his head slightly. He looked briefly at me; I inclined my head toward Maverick. It did seem clear that Maverick was running this show. "Maverick...?"
Maverick stepped close enough to take both of Shaw's hands in his. He took one quick look at me for a little further fortification, and then looked back at his guest. "Shaw... I apologized to you a long time ago for the way I was, with you, when we were roommates..."
Shaw said softly, "Yes, Maverick. You did, and there's really not anything else you need to say. We're friends now. Everything's okay, really."
Maverick shook his head briefly. "No, it's not all taken care of yet. I did apologize to you, but I missed apologizing to myself, and that's been a lot harder. Because I messed up something I could have had all this time, and I've been kicking myself about it. I mean... I wouldn't want to change anything that brought Wynn into my life, but I hate that I had to hurt somebody to get there. And it did cost me something. Because, yes, of course we're friends now. But we could have been much more than that."
Shaw gaped at him for a moment, then edged just a little closer, still with Maverick's hands holding his. Very softly, he said, "We still could, you know."
Maverick seemed to relax a little as he saw Shaw's reaction. "So... should I accept my apology to me?"
Shaw took another baby step closer. "I think you should."
Their lips met, and fastened together, their mouths slowly opening. Their arms went around each other, their hands roaming up and down each other's back as they continued kissing. Maverick was making that soft moaning sound at the back of his throat that signaled he was very aroused, echoed now by a similar one from Shaw.
When Maverick's hands came together in Shaw's back to lift up his shirt, I smiled and backed quietly toward the door, eased it open, and closed it from outside as softly as I could. The moaning from inside was growing louder.
I tapped at Jack's and Eric's door, and heard Jack's, "Come in."
I entered the room, and stopped. Jack and Eric were naked, both sitting on the bed facing the television. Jack was leaning back against the wall behind Eric, who was leaning back against him. Jack had his arms and legs wrapped around Eric. His right forearm rested on Eric's chest. Eric had his own arms folded around Jack's, each of his hands absently stroking one of Jack's arms, as he and Jack watched the screen.
Jack looked up and grinned. "So how's it going over there?" He gestured with his head vaguely in the direction of Maverick's and my room.
I laughed. "It's going really well. Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you guys." I started to back out.
Jack smiled. "Don't be silly. We're just watching a movie. Come on in."
Eric grinned at me. "It's that funny one where this guy is going to snuff his husband in the backyard, and everything keeps going more and more wrong."
I closed the door and looked at the screen. "Do they snuff the actor for real?"
Jack shrugged. "I've never seen it. All I know is the premise. It just started."
I started toward them, and decided I was overdressed. I stripped out of my uniform and briefs, and stacked my clothes neatly in the corner. I came over and climbed onto the bed, snuggling up against my friends from the side, snaking my right arm behind Jack's back against the wall, resting my left arm across Eric's stomach, and cradling my head in the gap between Jack's and Eric's left shoulders. Then I turned to look at the screen. "So what's happened so far?"
The Next Morning
I awoke in Jack's arms. I kissed him, then slid down to the hideaway bed and made love with Eric. Afterwards I dressed in last night's clothes, kissed both my friends, promised to meet them at breakfast, and tiptoed across the hall to my own room.
I opened the door quietly and peeked inside. Maverick and Shaw were still asleep, naked, their bodies tangled together, each with a hand cupping the back of the other's head, holding it close.
Maverick, facing me, opened one eye partway, his lips curling up in a sleepy smile. "Hi, honey. Pizza got a little cool, but it was still good."
In front of me Shaw, his back to me, began stirring, and gave Maverick a squeeze and a kiss. He turned his head to see me, and beamed at me. "Hi, Wynn. The pizza got a little cool..." He wrinkled him nose. "That's echoing in my head. Did Maverick already say that?"
I laughed and nodded. "I'm all caught up on the pizza story. You guys want to join Jack and Eric at breakfast?"
Both of them stretched and groaned, now rolling away from each other and sitting up. Shaw rubbed his eyes and reached for his briefs. "My shampoo's across the hall. Let me shower over there and get some fresh clothes, and I'll meet you guys at the caf." He gave Maverick a soft kiss, stroking his face, then stood and hugged me. He said, "See you in a little bit," and left the room.
I took off my clothes again and went into the bathroom to run the shower. Maverick met me in the stall, smiling. As we soaped each other, Maverick began, "Honey, would it be okay if we asked Shaw..."
I hugged Maverick's slippery body. "Absolutely. I'd love having him as a roommate."
Two Weeks Later
Maverick and I sat holding hands in the third row of seats in the academy limo. In the back of my mind, I hoped Clancy was doing okay. He should be hanging in the class demonstration about now, the first member of the First Year class to go. Last night, Wallace had asked me to help him break the news to Clancy. He was very upset at first, but listened as I repeated what I had said to Sumner in the same situation, three years ago. I had also suggested that Clancy and his roommate perform a short skit, as had become the norm preceding the demonstrations. Clancy had hugged me, and was discussing ideas with his roommate as I was leaving.
I knew that Holden would be there at the demonstration. The Dean had given permission for that, even though Holden was no longer a member of the class — any learning experience would be very useful to him. And I was sure Holden's diary would contain a long entry by this evening.
I returned my attention to my fellow graduates in the limo as they burst into another round of laughter. Shaw, holding Maverick's other hand, said, "We should see if one of us can get appointed to the board of directors. Whoever gets in can hire the rest of us." Jack and Eric, in the seat in front of us, laughed again.
Eric laughed harder than the rest, his eyes full of that special brightness I always saw in boys on the way to their hanging show. He had been unusually talkative all morning, obviously excited. Now he wondered aloud, "What changes should we make in the company, when we're running it?"
Jack, his arm around the love of his life, giggled. "More jobs for prey species!"
Shaw shouted above the laughter, "Not just jobs — supervisory jobs!"
Eric had been bought by a large corporation, to be hanged at the estate of the board chairman. Eric would entertain him, the CEO and the Chief Financial Officer (a femme) in his preparation tent on the grounds of the estate. After Eric's hanging, the other four of us would service the other board members, vice presidents, and department heads — a total of sixteen males and femmes, equally divided among the four of us. The client had paid extra for the sexual services of the four boys, in addition to the purchase price of the Hanging Boy.
Maverick asked Eric, "What are they going to do with your head?"
Shaw put in, "I've heard this guy has a room full of trophy heads from boyhunts. He won't just put you in with them, will he?" None of the Hanging Boys had anything against prey who volunteered for hunts, who usually were just trying to earn a little extra money for the families they were leaving behind, and hoping for a still bigger prize if they survived the hunt, rare as that was. But a Hanging Boy's pride in his own profession made him feel deserving of an individual place of honor in his owner's home.
"Oh!!" Eric nearly bounced on his seat in happiness. "I forgot I hadn't told you! I just told Jack last night. They've building me a niche in the main entrance foyer at corporate headquarters..." He suddenly laughed uproariously, and sputtered, "I didn't think of it this way — they're making quarters for my head at headquarters." Still giggling, he took a deep breath and got himself back together. "There's going to be a plaque. It has my name and says I was a Hanging Academy graduate, plus a bit about how the company hanged me, and today's date, it's so cool! Anyway, I'll be there as, like... a recruiting tool. The Employee Resources office, where college grads apply for jobs, is right there, and they'll see my head, and read why it's there, and they'll think, 'Oh, neat, this must be a great place to work.' So I'll kind of be working for the company even after I'm dead!" He leaned across his seat to hug Jack; the rest of us rubbed his shoulder across the back of his seat.
Jack pointed out the window and shouted, "Oh, here it is!" Ahead of us the barred gates to a large country estate were already swinging open, to admit the five of us. Four of us would go back to the Academy.
Eric had made a great prince and a truly satisfying Hanging Boy. He had kicked for twenty-three minutes, the audience oohing and ahhing with each transition to a new move: Maverick's original lover-entwining hip thrusts, or Shaw's desperation, or a modified version of Zuchter's bound-feet shimmying, which could be done just as well without the bondage. I struggled to hold back a smile as each moan or gasp from the audience signaled another witness cumming. I wished the audience could know that two of the original artists responsible for Eric's hanging choreography were present today, but I wouldn't have dreamed of announcing it — this was Eric's special day, a time for everyone to focus solely on his final performance.
As the applause died down, the four of us left the stage to go to our tents. I made sure to pass near enough to Eric's body to give my dangling friend a last fond stroke on the hip. Eric hung limply now from the noose, hands still bound behind him. His body was already beginning to cool, his fur sweaty but still glittering with the powder. "Perfect show, Eric" I whispered. I would have liked to stay and watch them take Eric down and remove his head for display, but I had work to do. I trotted down the steps from the stage and, moments later, entered my tent.
I changed quickly, stuffing my show outfit into the satchel I'd brought with me. Maverick, Shaw and I had been dressed as the prince's servant boys, in shirts with puffy sleeves, necklines plunging down to our navels. Our shirts and trouser legs had been ripped along the sides, some of the rips all the way to the waistline, as if from rough treatment when the revolutionaries had invaded the palace. Our job had been to cry and plead for the prince's life, to no avail. Jack, of course, had been the executioner.
I grabbed my next outfit, for entertaining the special guests. All of us were going to wear the same thing, agreed upon a week earlier during a brainstorming session interrupted frequently by giggles. Above the waist, I now wore a plain white, long-sleeved, businesslike shirt. Below, I wore gray tweed slacks. My shoes were comfortable flats, suitable for plenty of walking around the office, between desk, file cabinets, and xerox machine. Eric had, in fact, suggested an actual xerox machine in each tent as a prop, but there hadn't been time to arrange it.
The lone garment not suggestive of a secretary was the thong undies, a visual reward and final boost to the client's sexual arousal, once he or he had gotten off my outerwear.
I quickly combed my headfur and used a rubber band to gather it into a ponytail. As a final touch, I put on the plain-looking pair of glasses — Shaw's idea. I sat on the tent's chair to await the first client, composing my face into an efficient-looking neutral expression.
A few minutes later, a hyena, about forty, fairly good-looking, entered the tent.
It took me milliseconds to read him and feel I knew him. I had not paid particular attention to this male earlier, but I could size him up now, and everything about him screamed — I could almost literally hear it in my ear — Andrew. Physically he looked nothing like my brother, but I knew, immediately, I was about to be the target of arrogant commands and verbal abuse.
I hated that. I was as much a professional as anyone at this company, a graduate of a training program more intense than anything this male had ever experienced. I deserved the respect the man had no intention of giving me.
I made an instant decision to depart from the script we had worked out.
I quickly rose from the chair, a smile on my face. In a soft, admiring voice, I said, "Oh, I've always loved that look of quiet power." I reached back, pulled the rubber band off, and shook my hair free.
The hyena blinked at the unexpected opening. "What?"
I stepped closer, and cast the glasses aside. My voice grew even softer, slightly more breathy, and I went on, "I don't get to meet men like you very often. Most men feel they have to tell me what they want, shouting almost, as if it's always been the only way they could get attention. They don't understand that a man who really has power rarely has to say anything. People find out what he wants, and they do it with hardly a word spoken... Well, I don't need to tell you that. You already know." My voice was still more breathy, nearly a whisper, as I stopped in front of him, my hands reaching out to rest on his hips, stroking them lightly up and down. I could already see the front of his pants starting to rise. I looked upward intently into his eyes, flicking my own eyes down every few seconds to his lips. It took only a few repetitions of that to draw his head down into a kiss.
I'd pulled off my shirt to give him access to my chestfur, and unbuttoned his so I could play with his. Minutes later, I was underneath him on the mattress, my legs high in the air, his erection now buried deep inside me. I thought about Marshall. The man atop me had hardly spoken a word since entering the tent; I knew he'd been prepared to utter a lot of them — coarse, hurtful ones. I smiled as I moaned in time with the man's thrusts, remembering Marshall's first demonstration that he could be in complete control, that he could, in Marshall's own words, wrap anyone around his little finger. It wasn't magic, it was merely something to be learned. Marshall had been right in telling me I was capable of learning it. I had only needed to believe it could be done.
I kicked away the thong that was dangling from one foot, and wrapped my legs tightly around my client, pulling him more deeply inside me. There! That felt very nice. I moaned for real.
I gave my face and restored costume a last look in the mirror, nodded in satisfaction, put on my glasses and sat primly in the chair once more, waiting for my second client of the day.
A female mongoose, in her early thirties, entered through the tent flap. This one was much less menacing. I rose with a hopeful smile, walked toward the mongoose, and launched into the script that the others and I had prepared. "I'm Wynn," I said, holding out my hand. "The HR office sent me up here to interview for the office assistant opening."
The woman looked momentarily disoriented, then smiled as she appeared to catch on. "Hi, Wynn. I'm Alice Hartley."
I held the mongoose's hand a few seconds longer than the traditional handshake demanded. "It's really nice meeting you, Ms. Hartley. I want you to know..." I paused, biting my lip. "I really need this job. I'll do anything you need me to do. Really. Just anything." I looked down at her cleavage. My lips parted as I stared hungrily, I repeated softly, "Anything."
Ms. Hartley licked her lips. "Ummm... Well, Wynn, we have a pretty strict dress code here. Let me check to see if you're... dressed appropriately." She reached out tentatively and tugged at the fabric of my shirt, as if straightening it out. As her hand brushed across my chest, I closed my eyes and made a soft moaning sound.
I stepped slightly closer. "Please, give me any job. I'll be happy to do it." I was breathing more quickly.
I had perceived enough body signals, now, to know what this femme wanted. I freed my hair again, and once more tossed the glasses. I put my hands on Ms. Hartley's waist, then slowly sank to my knees, giving the mongoose soft kisses on her blouse along the way. Kneeling now, I unbuckled the belt holding Ms. Hartley's skirt and let it slide to the floor; I kissed the front of her panties, then slid them down as well.
I began licking, and knew I'd been right when Ms. Hartley moaned, her legs suddenly shaking, and put both her hands behind my head, pulling my face more tightly into her crotch. Ms. Hartley then eased herself down to the floor as her legs shakily gave way. I followed her down, my tongue never losing contact with her pussy.
As my fourth and final client departed the tent, drained and smiling, I reassembled my outfit one last time and left the tent, relieved that my work was done and only the after-hanging party remained.
I spotted Shaw sitting alone at one of the picnic tables; he had already finished with his clients. I crossed the grounds to join him, passing the barbecue pit along the way. They were roasting a whole suckling pig, and it smelled wonderful, the skin browned, cracked, shiny with barbecue sauce. It would be done soon, and they would start slicing it; my stomach rumbled. I waved at Shaw.
Maverick and Jack joined us at the table over the next ten minutes. Maverick smiled as he sat down beside me and kissed me. "So how'd you do?"
I grinned. "Oh, it was really fun. Three guys, one woman. I'll have to tell you about the first one. Later. It was so cool. How about yours?"
Maverick's face was animated. "Oh, it was great..."