Dog Training The American Male Part 26

"What are you implying?"

"I'm not implying anything, Nancy, I'm stating a fact. The problem's not Sam, it's you."

MALE BONDING.

It was half past two in the afternoon when the Volkswagen van exited the mansion's gated entrance, thoughts of a menage a trois dancing in the driver's head.

Olivia Cabot had loved Jacob's performance. To celebrate his hiring, she and Ruby had insisted he join them for a swim, then stay for lunch. With five hours to kill before he had to "return home from work," Jacob agreed.

He had followed Cyril down a stone path to the guesthouse to locate a bathing suit. Decorated like an erotic honeymoon suite, the single-floor dwelling opened to a large living room with dark shades and a projection screen television that occupied an entire wall. A bookcase featured the latest movies as well as a shelf dedicated to adult videos; the bar was fully-stocked, the thick carpet littered with giant throw-pillows. The master bath was done entirely in Italian marble and housed a bidet, sauna, and a two-seat whirlpool; the bedroom kept simple but t.i.tillating with its mirrored ceiling and king-size bed. A saddle-like woman's vibrator, called a Sybian, sat next to an exercise bike.

Cyril directed Jacob to a drawer filled with an a.s.sortment of men's bathing suits. "Choose whatever you like, not that it matters."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Wake up, my dear. The contest is on, and you're the quarry."

"What contest?"

Cyril smirked. "h.e.l.lo? Five grand to the first one who sleeps with you. Ruby and Olivia play the game all the time-don't look so shocked; it's what rich b.i.t.c.hes do when they're bored. So which one will it be?"

"Neither. I have a girlfriend."

"As long as you're not married, they don't care."

Jacob scoffed. "Dude, they can't force me to have s.e.x. What are they gonna do? Rape me?"

"No, you'll go quite willing. While we're in here picking out your bathing suit, Olivia's spiking your beer with ecstasy."

"s.h.i.+t." Jacob peeked out the bedroom's Venetian blinds to see a servant wheel out a cart of sandwiches and drinks.

Cyril moved next to him to sneak a peek. "You'll sun and swim while they tease you, then it's lunch on the veranda. Twenty minutes later you'll be back in here, humping two gorgeous middle-aged women . . . with a combined age of a hundred-and-four."

"Jesus, Cyril, what do I do?"

"Don't you mean, who will you do? Don't worry about the loser; she'll get double-or-nothing odds on the yacht."

"What if I leave now without doing either of them?"

"a.s.suming you still want that big pay-day next Friday night you'll need a good excuse. Wait . . . you drove, right?"

"So?"

"So, while you take a dip in the pool, I'll remain here and stick my finger down my throat. I'll stagger back to the pool all sick and pale -- you offer to drive me home. Don't even change, just grab your clothes and a towel and G-O-go, bro."

"Dude, you'd do that for me?"

"No, but I'd do it for little Lisa Simpson. She stole my heart."

THE PLAN HAD worked to perfection. Forty minutes later, the orange and white Volkswagen van was weaving its way through the streets of an upper middle-cla.s.s neighborhood in Boynton Beach, the driver parking curbside in front of a two-story home.

Jacob clenched his fist to b.u.mp knuckles with Cyril. "Thanks again, man, I owe you one."

"Then you won't mind coming in . . . just for a minute while I get the lights on. I know it sounds strange, but I get very nervous entering a dark house."

"Dude, it's only 3:20 in the afternoon."

"Yes. And it's dark inside."

Realizing Cyril was not budging; Jacob shut off the van's engine and exited the vehicle, escorting the gay man to the front door of his home.

Cyril keyed in, entered the two-story house and worked his way inside, flipping on light switches, illuminating a professionally decorated, brightly colored interior, not a speck of dust or a magazine out of place.

"Nice digs. See you next Friday night."

"Jacob, wait. Would you mind walking ahead of me to the den?"

"Why?"

"Because I feel funny about coming in to an empty house. I'd feel better knowing an axe murderer wasn't waiting for me in the den."

"Dude, seriously-you should get a dog. And not one of those foofie white dogs either. Something with teeth."

"Mr. Jacob, I'm not going to change the way I look or the way I feel to conform to anything. I've always been a freak. I've been a freak all my life-"

"-and I have to live with that, I'm one of those people."

"You recognize the John Lennon quote?"

"Who wouldn't? The man was a game-changer. And don't feel bad, I suffer from a few minor phobias myself." Jacob led him past an oak staircase to a gla.s.s-enclosed family room.

Cyril situated himself on a stool by a wrap-around bar. "What are you drinking?"

"Nothing for me, I have to go."

"No you don't. You told me in the van that your girlfriend thinks you're at work. What time do you normally get home?"

"Around six."

"Then sit." Cyril reached for a plastic container shaped like a Hawaiian G.o.d and fills two gla.s.ses with its copper-colored liquor.

Jacob sat uncomfortably on the cus.h.i.+on of a wicker love seat. "Look, man, I appreciate you saving my a.s.s today at Olivia's, but-"

"Bourbon?" Cyril shoved one of the gla.s.ses in Jacob's hand, then powered on the CD player. Music pumped softly from the wall-mounted speakers-Lady Gaga's Born this Way.

"Jacob, may I ask you a question, and please be honest-what do you think of me?"

Jacob's pulse raced. "What do you mean?"

"You've known me several hours now; surely you must have formed some opinion."

"I dunno. You seem like a nice person."

"Did you know I was a h.o.m.os.e.xual?"

"I've got to go." Jacob stood.

"Sit down. You're going to finish your drink and answer my question. You owe me that."

"Yes, Cyril, I knew you were gay. All of Boca knows you're gay."

"Am I . . . attractive?"

"Okay, this conversation is now officially weird. I hate to leave you alone in an empty house, but I'm sure your boyfriend will be home from work any minute and-"

"No. Greg won't be home until tomorrow morning." Cyril smiled, sauntering toward him.

Jacob retreated around the other back side of the love seat. "Oh no."

"What?"

"Oh my G.o.d."

"What is wrong?"

"You didn't really think that I'd do something like that!"

"Like what? Tell me."

"For G.o.d's sake, Cyril. Here we are, you've got me in your house; you give me a drink. You put on music, you tell me you're gay-which I already knew-which the entire world already f.u.c.king knew, then you tell me your boyfriend won't be home until tomorrow morning."

"So?"

"Dude . . . you're trying to seduce me."

Cyril situated himself on a barstool, resting his bare right foot on the adjacent chair as he lit a cigarette, chuckling softly to himself.

"Aren't you?"

"Actually, I hadn't thought of it. You told me you had a girlfriend so I sort of took it for granted that you were heteros.e.xual. Don't get me wrong, I'm certainly flattered."

Jacob felt the blood rus.h.i.+ng from his face in embarra.s.sment. "Cyril, I'm sorry for what I just said."

"It's all right."

"It's not all right. I'm just seriously f.u.c.ked up right now."

"It's forgotten. Finish your drink, you'll feel better."

Jacob drained the bitter liquor. "What the f.u.c.k is wrong with me? Ever since the Lehman Brothers disaster I just haven't been myself."

"It's okay."

"It's my future; I'm just worried about my future. Losing my job . . . depending upon Ruby to get me gigs, all while she tries to . . . you know-"

"Seduce you?"

"Yeah."

"Jacob, did Ruby mention I was a painter?"

"A painter? No, I don't think so." He inspected the walls. "Everything looks professionally finished."

"Not the walls, silly, I paint portraits. I'm really quite good. Perhaps I could paint you sometime."

"I've got to go." Jacob placed his empty gla.s.s on the coffee table and stood to leave.

"Will you stop with the seducing nonsense! I meant paint you with your girlfriend."

"Really?"

"Consider it an early Christmas present. Now would you like to see my work? "

"Yes. Yes I would."

"Come with me." Cyril led him out of the den back to the staircase.

"It's upstairs?"

"Yes. We hung it in the master bedroom."

"I really have to go."

"Jacob, what is wrong with you? I didn't take you for such a h.o.m.ophobe."

"I'm not a h.o.m.ophobe. I just don't feel comfortable going into another dude's bedroom."

"Would you like me to seduce you?"

"What?"

"Now it all makes sense. I mean, what red-blooded Heteros.e.xual male wouldn't have given his right t.e.s.t.i.c.l.e to be in a menage et trois with two beautiful women like Ruby and Olivia. Unless that red-blooded heteros.e.xual male was a closet h.o.m.os.e.xual."

"Cyril, I'm sorry about the whole seduction thing, but I swear to you I'm not gay."

"Prove it. Take a look at my artistic creation, then go home to your girlfriend-a.s.suming she really exists."