Father & Son: Book two of the Jensen Family Series (19 page)

Paul had a whale of a time playing with
his son and Luke. The terrible two’s had hit Gavin hard and over his many phone
calls with Carmen and from her dishevelled appearance earlier, it was clear
that the toddler was once again having a bad day and his Mother had taken the
brunt of it.

 He seemed happy enough for the time being
though as he bounced on the little trampette in the garden with Luke pretending
to dive at him and occasionally crawling under it so that the little boy’s feet
brushed his stomach as he bounced making the older boy roar with laughter.

It didn’t last. As soon as Luke scrambled
out from under the trampette, Gavin began to grizzle; it appeared he hadn’t had
enough of bouncing on his friend. Oblivious to the tantrum countdown happening
behind him, Luke made for the slide. Climbing down from the trampette, bottom
lip quivering, Gavin grabbed the piece of equipment that just seconds ago was
entertaining him and put all his weight into trying to drag it closer to his friend,
when this failed, he threw himself on the floor, kicking and screaming in
frustration.

Not entirely sure what had set his son
off, Paul reached for him, pulling him into his lap and trying to soothe him
while keeping an eye on Luke who had paused at the top of the slide and was
watching the screaming toddler.

Paul huffed out a breath as his sons
flailing feet caught his upper thigh, barely missing his groin. In preservation
of his man parts, he put the boy on the grass in front of him and began to talk
softly then ducking as a tiny fist made its way towards his face.

“Whoa.” He came to his feet and picked the
now hysterical child up, calling out to Luke to come with him, they were making
their way up the garden when Carmen and John stepped out of the large patio
doors.

“Oh not again.” Carmen sighed. “What set
him off this time?” She called to a rapidly approaching Paul.

“Not a clue.” He shrugged, “What do I do?”

“Put him in his play pen and walk away.”
Carmen answered, “He’s just evil when he’s like that, the more you try to
soothe him, the worse he gets so he’s better off in there.” She bent over the
edge of the play pen and removed the toys contained within, “I’ve found its
best not to give him anything to throw, he has a hell of a right arm on him and
those toys hurt.”

Gavin went rigid as Paul tried to lower
him into the play pen, his little arms shooting out sideways to prevent himself
from being put down, his body completely inflexible. When he realised he was
losing the battle that usually took his mother a good five minutes, he wrapped
his arms around Paul’s neck and hung on for dear life.

“It seems he’s worked out you are stronger
than me.” Carmen spoke as she observed. “He only does that when Art tries to
put him down. He’s very bright Paul, you’ll need your wits about you.”

As distressing as it was to pry the small
hands from his neck, he finally managed it and stood back as his son glared up
at him while continuing to scream and stomp and rock the hell out of the play
pen.

“Does he do that often?” Paul asked.

“Oh only about twenty times a day.” She
replied.

“I was about to say like father like son
but you weren’t quite that bad.” John laughed, “He’ll get over it Paul, if he
sees you getting uptight and upset over it, he’ll do it all the more.”

Sitting on one of the kitchen chairs and
dragging his fingers through his hair, Paul continued to watch as his son
thrashed. “Is there nothing we can do?”

“Nope. I’ve even taken him to the doctor
as he strops more than your average two year old. He’s had tests up the wazoo
and all the doctors can come up with is that he is of above average
intelligence for his age and that he’s trying to keep up with Luke. Being
younger and smaller, he gets worn out easily but is now refusing to nap through
the day which makes it worse and he seems to comprehend that he can’t do it all
which causes this sort of reaction on a regular basis.”

“Huh. You deserve a medal.” He tore his
eyes away from his child and looked up at her.

Carmen nodded and folded her arms across
her chest. “You remember that the next time you call and say you can’t make
it.”

“So.” John dropped into the chair next to
Paul’s, “The house is fantastic, I can see why you went that extra mile for
it.”

Shooting his Uncle a look filled with
gratitude for stepping into what could have been an argument, Paul nodded in
agreement, “It’s in a great location too so win, win all around really. Well
would you look at that.” He had returned his gaze to his son who had quietened
considerably and was now just hiccupping out the occasional sob but what had
caught his attention was Luke.

With a well-loved teddy bear under his
arm, Luke approached the play pen and his sobbing friend and hefted the bear
over the edge, dangling it by the ear until Gavin noticed it and reached up and
caught hold of the leg, pulling it into his arms, he gave it a hug as he
scrambled to his feet and stood to face the older boy.

At five years old and having always been a
robust child, Luke was considered big for his age and was already showing signs
of growing into a tall, athletic youngster. He reached for Gavin, the side of
the playpen posing no object. Wrapping his arms around the sniffling boy. Luke
hugged him and gently patted his back until Gavin’s sniffing subsided whereon
he heaved, pulling the younger boy from the play pen to hug him properly then
tickle him until he laughed and dropped the bear.

When both boys wandered away into the
living room, Paul turned to Carmen, “Does that happen often?”

“Actually, yes. Luke is a godsend, he
seems to know just what to do to calm Gavin down and sometimes he even manages
to stop him from throwing a tantrum altogether. He has a very kind heart bless
him. Gavin’s a complete horror when Luke is at school.”

“Wouldn’t it be a good idea to get Gavin
enrolled in nursery or something? You know, so that he gets to play with kids
his own age?”

“I have got him a place; he starts in a
couple of months.” She glanced into the living room where the boys were happily
watching cartoons. “I have to admit that I’m not looking forward to his first
day. As much as I loathe the tantrums, he’s my baby and it’s going to be
difficult to leave him there.

John stayed for the night and took a
leisurely drive home the following day. Paul remained behind for a further
week, catching up with his son and re-acquainting himself with Carmen, which
led to some memorable nights. Carmen’s caring, loving side surfaced when she
properly examined his hand and she wasn’t the least bit surprised when he told
her he’d lashed out at Michael, she, like everyone else, thought he’d had it
coming for a very long time.

 He only left as he had a further
appointment at the hospital. Catching the early train, he was pleased to see
his mother waiting for him. Although he didn’t miss the dramas of home life, he
did miss his mother sorely and when she suggested that they spend the day
together after seeing the doctor, he readily agreed.

After watching intently as the first
stitch was pulled from his hand, Paul felt his stomach churn at the sight of it
and turned his head away, swallowing the nausea he felt and repeating to
himself that he felt sick because he had yet to eat.

With the stitches removed, he was told to
flex his fingers and hold various objects which he did in-between frantic
scratching where the stitches had been even though the skin was sore. The
doctor was pleased with his overall progress and he was cleared to return to
work.

He indulged his Mother with a spot of
shopping, filling her in as they perused on his work at the club and his
eventual plan of taking over within the next few years. When his stomach
growled, Monica slipped her arm through his and guided him to a restaurant.

“Will you re-consider coming home?”

Paul shook his head, declining to answer
and instead focussed his full attention on the food in front of him.

“Your Father has moved out.” Monica
stated, she had his attention now; his fork had stopped halfway to his mouth as
he looked at her.

“He has? How come?”

“I told him too. I needed some time to
assess the situation and couldn’t do that with him there. I’d like you to come
home.

He shook his head again. “How long do you
expect him to stay away Mum? You know it won’t be forever and by your own
admission, you love him and even I have to admit that although he’s a lousy
father where I’m concerned, he’s a good husband to you and I refuse to put you
in the position of choosing between us.”

“It isn’t so much of a choice, just
instinct, you are my son, I love you and I will always choose you. I haven’t
done a very good job at protecting you so far and for that I apologise. Come
home Paul and I promise I won’t let any more harm come to you”

Paul reached across the table and grasped
his Mother’s hand. “I don’t need protecting from him Mum; given recent events
I’d say it’s sort of the other way around and honestly, the atmosphere at home
is just wrong when Dad and I are in the same room. It’s better all-around if I
stay where I am. It makes your life easier and I’m ok at John’s.”

“But I miss you, you are my baby and
you’re only eighteen, you should still be at home with your family.” She
protested.

“I am with family and I’m almost nineteen,
you will have to let me go at some point.” He told her, “I love you Mum and I
promise I won’t become a stranger, we can meet up anytime you want, I just
can’t be around him at home, at the office its fine and he won’t start anything
there so for the time being, let’s leave things how they are.”

Monica sighed and covered his hand with
her free one, “Very well. You can expect me to be a frequent visitor though.
Now,” she patted his hand, “Tell me about my Grandson.”

Later that week, Monica received a gift
wrapped present from one of the shops she had visited with Paul. Upon opening
it, she found the dress she had been looking at but had been unable to justify
the purchase of. She recognised the slightly slanted bold strokes of
handwriting on the note contained within the package and ran her thumb over it,
feeling the indentations where the pen had been firmly pressed into the paper,
it read, “Promised we wouldn’t be strangers, lunch tomorrow? Love you, Paul
xxx” Smiling, she carried the package upstairs to try the dress on for fit, her
mind’s eye picturing the perfect pair of shoes and a snazzy bag she had
squirreled away that would compliment it perfectly.

Monica found that she actually saw more of
her youngest son than she did when he was living at home. Wednesday became
their regular meeting for lunch day where they just spent time together,
discussing anything from the weather to world events and everything in between.
She gleaned several insights into Paul’s life this way and was overjoyed that
he appeared happy and relaxed. It also became a regular thing that two days
after their lunch together, regardless if she’d seen him in the following days
or not, a small gift would arrive for her, always with a hand written note.

It was after the gift of a particularly
extravagant Faberge egg that she had recently begun collecting that she paid an
unannounced visit to her brothers flat, surprising both him and her son.

Paul left the pruning of his Uncle’s
Bonsai tree and lowered himself onto the sofa next to her, crossing one leg
over the other, he took the post she held out to him while good naturedly
listening to the reprimand she delivered upon receiving such an expensive gift.
He shrugged off her protestations and demands to return the egg with, “You’re
worth it Mum and now that I can afford such things, it gives me a lot of
pleasure to do so. I like going to find that little thing that I know will make
you smile.” He glanced at her as he began to open his post, he’d made her
blush.

“It’s hardly a little thing.” She
protested.

“It is to me-” He paused as he read the
contents of the letter in his hand, “Phil, you son of a bitch.” He handed the
letter to her, “He’s only gone and nominated me for young business man of the
year.”

She looked at the letter and although she
had known it was coming, courtesy of a visit from his crew, she hadn’t counted
on Paul being upset about it. “It wasn’t just Phil darling, all of your chaps
came to see me, they along with the men in Gloucester and the councils you have
worked for feel it’s about time you got recognised for your hard work and
business acumen.”

Paul dragged his hands through his hair,
“I get paid, that’s all the recognition I need.” He huffed. “I take it by your
silence; you also knew this was coming?” He addressed his Uncle.

“I did and I think it’s well deserved
especially now that you’re taking over the night club, if nothing else think of
the publicity it’ll garner at the awards ceremony.”

“Yeah, the publicity will be awesome,
unless I lose.” Paul bit out.

John countered with, “I’ve often heard you
say that there’s no such thing as bad publicity.”

“I guess I’ll find out won’t I?
Fortunately, up until now, all the publicity I’ve had has been good.”

“Yep.” John rose; he was heading out to
meet a potential new client. “But up until now, all you’ve had to do for it is
smile for the camera and look pretty, now perhaps the vultures, sorry, Press
will see that you are much more than just a pretty face.”

Silence ensued as John left and Paul
mulled over what had been said, “I’m actually very flattered.” He said, “And a
little embarrassed.”

Monica smiled at him. “You deserve this,
even if you don’t win, it’ll make the company more visible to the public and
that can’t be a bad thing.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Matthew will
be here soon, we are all having dinner together and we can discuss what you
want to do for your birthday.”

Over dinner, the brothers decided that
they would simply spend their birthday at the club with Paul being on hand to
make sure their friends all got VIP treatment when there. In the meantime, Paul
needed to get a suit organised for the awards ceremony as he still only had the
one and after taking a look at his more than healthy bank balance, he decided
to have one made instead of buying off the shelf.

With Paul now taking on most aspects with
regard to running the club, Jez allowed himself the occasional night off. He
lived with his girlfriend in the large apartment above the club, a place where
only the select few were allowed access. His home was completely soundproofed
but he had a live video feed so that he could keep an eye on things and
overall, he was impressed with the way Paul ran the club in his absence.

Jez would re-appear when the club closed
for a quick synopsis from the staff over how well they thought the evening had
gone what the take was and also to see if anyone needed him to find a cab to
take them home. He believed in looking after his staff. He paid them over and
above the going rate and always ensured they had safe passage to and from work
at his expense when required. It paid off in the long run as he hadn’t hired
anyone new, with the exception of Paul, in the past five years.

Locking that night’s takings in the safe,
Jez then opened the drinks cabinet in his office and pulled out a bottle of
Tequila. He handed it to Paul, slapping him on the back as he did.

“Good work tonight, the take was up, the
staff is happy and I got the night off. I may do that more often, grab a couple
of glasses, we should celebrate.”

“You hardly have the night off Jez, you
watch my every move through those bloody camera’s” Paul grinned at the older
man as he held out the glasses.

“You don’t own the place yet boy; I need
to see if you are costing me money. Drink up.” Jez raised his glass to his
mouth and downed the shot in one, laughing at Paul as he choked on the drink,
“First time huh? I’ve just popped your Tequila cherry. Awesome, have another.”

Half a dozen drinks later, Paul was
feeling somewhat shaky on his legs but it didn’t stop him reaching for his
refilled glass. “You still have a lot to teach me, we should arrange some time
when you’re actually awake through the day so we can go over the finer points.”

“Yeah, or you could just drop by Wednesday
after you’ve had luncheon with Mummy and played the part of the perfect son and
we can go over the last bits then.”

“I am the perfect son, it’s not a part I
play and there’s no shame in admitting that I love my Mother.” Paul, as always,
bristled when anyone cast aspersions on the woman who had given him life.

“Ignore me, I’m a bitter man when it comes
to Mother figures, mine was a cold hearted bitch who’d sit back and watch as
one boyfriend after another beat the shit out of me then she kicked me out when
I fought back.” Jez tossed back another drink.

“Shit Jez, I didn’t know, I’m sorry man.”

“Hey.” Jez stood, unlike Paul; he was rock
solid on his feet. “It’s ok, you didn’t know but it does give me the ability to
see in others when their home life isn’t what it should be. I know you won’t
admit it but I do know that your old man beats you and I understand what you
are going through when it happens, so if you ever need to talk…..”

Paul scrubbed his hands over his face; he
was feeling the effects of the alcohol in his system along with the creeping
fatigue of a long day and heavy night. “Thanks. I’d better make a move, I’ll
see you tomorrow.” He got to his feet and staggered from the head rush.

“Oh no, no, no, you stay here tonight.”
Jez wrapped an arm around his waist and guided him from the office, across the
dance floor and over to the stairs that led to his apartment. Stopping just
outside the door, he propped Paul against the wall. “Listen up, this is my
private space, very few people are allowed in here so consider yourself
privileged. You’re about to meet Aryanna, you can look all you like. You. Do.
Not. Touch.”

Paul hiccupped and couldn’t help the
stupid smile that split his lips, “Do you enjoy making things a challenge for
me?”

Sighing, Jez reached for the door, “I knew
you’d see it that way. I’m deadly serious about this. Anything in here you can
help yourself to, just not her. Be warned though, she likes to touch and play,
I’m ok with that but you keep your hands to yourself and don’t think you are a
special case, you aren’t, no-one touches her, or should I say, no man touches
her except for me, got it?”

“Roger that boss.” Paul answered. “I have
far too much respect for you to do anything other than what you ask.”

The first thing he saw upon entering Jez’s
inner sanctum was Serge.  As the large door man stepped aside, his view changed
to that of possibly the most perfect vision of a woman that he had ever seen
and he now completely understood why Jez had set ground rules.

Standing at an easy 6’ 1”, Aryanna almost
matched him for height and far outstripped Jez in that department. Long
platinum blond hair touched her bottom, her eyebrows and lashes matching the
colour of her hair with skin so pale she was almost albino. She turned to look
at him and appraised him from head to toe with crystal blue eyes. Stepping
forward, she bent to kiss the man in her life before coming face to face with
the young man who would eventually release Jez from the hold of Jokers. Her
pale pink, Cupid’s bow lips slowly curved into a smile as she took in the
beautiful male form before her. “Welcome.”

Jez stepped out of his shoes and wasted no
time in pouring another round of drinks, “I didn’t realise we were going to
play tonight.” He said as he relaxed back into the sofa.

Paul couldn’t move, he had quite literally
been riveted to the spot. Presented with the sight of not only Serge who he
freely admitted, intimidated him to the extreme, but Aryanna was clad only in
the tiniest thong, her pale skin and pert, hand sized breasts on display for
all to see. He could only wonder at what they were planning to play given the
woman’s attire but when a completely nude Betsy stepped into his peripheral
vision, he began to understand exactly what the club manager was referring to.

“Oh good, you bought us a present.” Betsy
crooned; she trailed her hand over his chest as she made her way to Serge.

“Come, sit.” Serge encouraged him by
grasping his arm and guiding him to an armchair.

Jez leant forward and handed him a glass.
“Drink up, I have something to ask you.”

Paul downed the drink and felt the burn in
his chest as it went down, he held his glass out and accepted another shot
before glancing quickly around at the players in the room, his eyes finally
settling on Jez.

“When the girl’s say play, they don’t mean
Monopoly or Twister.” He started. “They like to um, entertain themselves while
Serge and I watch, I don’t touch Betsy, he doesn’t touch Aryanna. In all
honesty, I hadn’t realised tonight was game night or I’d have called you a cab
but you’re here and as far as I’ve seen over the last few years, you most
certainly are a player. The question is, are you prepared to give up complete
control? From the looks on the ladies faces, I’d say that you are the toy
they’d like to investigate but it will involve complete surrender on your part
and of course, your hands stay by your sides.”

Paul shook his head, no, he couldn’t do
this. Being naked in the showers at school or in front of his brother was one
thing but in a room full of virtual strangers? Perhaps not. “I like to be in
control and I really don’t think this is my sort of scene.”

“That’s ok. No problem. You are more than
welcome to stay and watch or I can show you to the spare room and you can crash,
it’s entirely up to you.”

Aryanna stepped forward and then crouched
in front of him, her hands spanning his thighs, “If you do decide to stay, you
can change your mind at any time, none of us will think anything of it. Of
course, if you decide that you would like to be our toy, that’s fine too and be
assured that we would never cause you any harm and we will stop any time you
ask us too.”

“Ah, thanks, I think.” He stammered but
sat up a little straighter in his chair. Aryanna moved forward to perch on the
arm and he tried hard to ignore her. “You said no touching,” he spoke to Jez,
“So I don’t get how this works.”

Jez smiled, it seemed his young protégé
was taking this into consideration, “All you have to do is sit back and relax,
let the girls do their thing and don’t touch. I find Serge is very good at
making over eager hands stay where they should be.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second.”

“Here.” Jez held out a large joint, “Take
a toke, sit back and enjoy the show.”

Paul hung onto the joint and watched in a
haze as Aryanna and Betsy began to play, mouths and hands exploring intimate
places and he had to admit, it was turning him on. As Betsy came towards him,
he felt Serge’s  meaty hand circle around his right wrist and Jez’s much more
slender hand hung on to his left.

Betsy slowly unbuttoned his shirt and he
was concentrating so hard on her swaying breasts that he failed to notice
Aryanna popping the button on his jeans. His whole body jumped when a warm
mouth engulfed him but his view was still blocked by the bar maid.

Leaning over the side of the chair, Betsy
kissed her way around his torso, flicking his nipples, nipping and sucking
before spreading oil over her hands and applying them to his chest, “This will
warm your skin up, make it tingle and feel good.”

With Betsy to the side of him, he had the
opportunity to turn his attention to Aryanna. He watched as she worked him in
earnest, her mouth pistoning up and down as she moaned around him from the
attention she received from Jez’s free hand. As the skin of his torso began to
heat up, he came to the conclusion that he’d had better blow jobs. His
perspective changed when Betsy moved to her knees between his legs, her mouth
closing around his balls.