THE GENTLEMEN'S CLUB
Hugh

Written by Lady Poetess
egiggles at moose-mail.com
/~bbp

Please do not reproduce on any website without permission. This
story has no resemblance to anyone dead or alive.

PROLOGUE

James Marsden hated being called 'Jimmy'. His mother called him
that, as did those who used and discarded him in his long-ago
life. It only seemed apt that the blackmail letter addressed him
as 'Jimmy'.

He was surprised that he was calm as he read the letter. He even
contemplated - quite rationally - whether he should burn the
letter and forget about it, or do what the letter demanded and get
out of his employer's life. It was a silly demand for a blackmail
letter, but James wasn't amused.

His eyes scanned the rest of the letter that detailed the past he
tried so hard to flee from and to forget. When he finished, he
shook - with fear, he guessed, since he wasn't actually feeling
anything at the moment.

Shock, he told himself. The panic would no doubt hit soon.

But panic never came. After all, the blackmailer knew him well.
James Marsden was a coward, and he would never, ever dare see Hugh
Jackman turn away from him in disgust or horror.

Very well, he had been running for what seemed all his life. He
could do that again.



ONE

Maverick player Hugh Jackman was a classic success story. An
orphan, who from Australia ended up in America, he started from an
office boy into what he was today, one of the more successful
power brokers in America. Only 32, he had already seven ailing
companies on his credentials that he had bailed out of financial
difficulties. The Bailer, as he was called, was acknowledged as
ruthless, industrious, business-savvy, yet he remained a
mysterious figure. His height - six feet three - only added to his
forbidding stature.

No one seemed to know Hugh Jackman, his past or his present
private life, and he was never seen with a partner male or female.
When he went on vacations, his secretary and colleagues never
disclosed his location. And the Bailer himself was a man who
rarely spoke to the press, indulging himself in the luxury of
using a spokesperson instead. Yet by all accounts, he was a hard
but not unkind taskmaster, not well liked but generally agreed by
people who had worked with him as a capable man deserving of their
respect and admiration.

Who was Hugh Jackman?

Those who wondered might be surprised to realize that at the very
moment, the mysterious Hugh Jackman was reading the shopping list
his housekeeper had prepared for him, trying to figure out whether
he should get the green bottle of detergent or the blue one. What
was the difference between extra-fragrance and extra-softness
anyway? Clad in simple brown jacket over woolen checkered
lumberjack shirt, he looked more like a construction worker than a
man worth twelve million dollars, which was how he liked it.

Since he could afford it, he decided to take both bottles. If one
found it odd that he should be doing the shopping for his
housekeeper, Hugh didn't at all. He could have told, if he was an
eloquent man, that he enjoyed these simple daily acts. Maybe
people would be more surprised if Hugh confessed that he enjoyed
weekend shopping trips taken with James Marsden, his housekeeper.

He knew what to expect even as he drove up the driveway of his
moderately large house. James would have everything ready for him.
He knew, even as he opened the front door and smelled the air,
that the house would smell of food, cleanliness, and warmth, just
the way Hugh believed a house should smell. It might sound crazy
but sometimes he would stand at the doorway and take in his home,
as if he couldn't believe that he would actually be living in such
a brightly lit, warm, and nice-smelling home.

And dear James, who even now would be in the kitchen preparing for
Hugh's return. Whistling tunelessly, Hugh climbed up to his
bedroom to change and shower. James would have a change of clothes
put out on his bed, another change of work clothes hanging on the
wall, and fresh underwear and socks always in their respective
drawers.

When Hugh came down for dinner, he placed his hand on James'
shoulder and squeezed playfully. "Ham sandwiches?" he asked
hopefully, peering into the microwave Plexiglas pane.

James was packing away the things Hugh had bought. "Yeah, and
there's some of the ice cream you said you wanted in the freezer."

"Nice." Hugh grinned stupidly as he studied the sandwiches in the
microwave oven. He didn't recall telling James he wanted the ice
cream directly, but that was the beauty of the housekeeper. James
was so good in anticipating and meeting James' whims and needs.

If twenty-seven year old James Marsden's stunningly boyish good
looks were more suited to gracing a fashion spread than cleaning
house, James didn't let on. The man seemed content to be
housekeeper to Hugh, and Hugh wouldn't want to rock the boat by
asking James to spread his wings. The housekeeper came into Hugh's
life five years ago when James walked into Hugh's office begging
for a job, any job. Hugh didn't ask, he just gave James a
probationary employment for a month.

One month stretched into five years. James had the knack of making
Hugh's previously desolate life homely and warm, a home Hugh had
only dreamed of. Hugh couldn't even remember his life before
James.

"I really like the salad dressing you use," he told James.



To James Marsden, Hugh Jackman's house was a sanctuary. In the
solid presence of the walls, he could pretend that his past never
existed, and that his life started the day Hugh gave him the job
as the man's housekeeper. All his life, James had only one asset -
his physical beauty. He couldn't do anything else, except that he
could cook and clean house very well. Hugh valued him, James would
like to pretend, and hence, in Hugh's protective presence, James
felt free for the first time in his life.

All illusions, of course, that were easily shattered the morning
when the blackmail note arrived. James' realization and fears
became gospel - his presence and past had allowed Hugh's business
rivals to strike at the man. That James couldn't allow. He would
rather die than to see Hugh hurt. Dying was a rather dramatic
gesture that Hugh wouldn't appreciate (and James didn't want to
die, in all actuality), thus James decided to remove himself from
Hugh's presence instead.

It terrified him to strike out on his own again, but for Hugh whom
he owed his life, he would do it.

It was agony smiling thinly through Hugh's good-natured banters
when James' own emotions were at turmoil. But it was much worse
when James timidly told the man of his impending loss of a
housekeeper. Hugh's face was impassive, except for the brief flash
of - pain? anger? disappointment? - that passed through the man's
eyes.

"Will you tell me why?" Hugh asked.

"It's not you. It's just me," James said through the choked
emotions welling in him.

"I'm sorry," Hugh said.

"Why? It's me who should be sorry. You were so good to me, Hugh, I
don't want to leave. But I have to." James' couldn't speak aloud.
He didn't want to see what the notion of leaving Hugh for the
terrifying outside world was costing him.

Hugh only looked away, breaking the eye contact. "Well, go then."

With that, James was lost.




TWO

One week later

Hugh Jackman found his errant housekeeper closing up the drive-in
burger stall two minutes to ten. Covering his brief elation at the
sight of the man under his mask of nonchalance, he drove up to the
window.

"You walked out from an overpaid post for this?" Hugh asked as
casually as he could.

James jumped, then relaxed when he saw who was at the window.
"Hugh."

"Hi," Hugh said.

"Hi. No one's making you dinner?"

"No." Hugh smiled as best as he could in his state of emotions. He
was overjoyed at seeing James, hopeful, wistful in dreaming that
maybe James would come back into his life and make everything fine
again. At once furious at James for walking out on him and
relieved at seeing him again, Hugh had to be careful or he would
degenerate into a blathering mess before James. "You're closed."

"Yeah. But if you like, I can -"

"Come have dinner with me," Hugh said, then hesitated "And pretend
I'm just me and not your ex-boss? I could use the company."

Against his better judgement, James couldn't fight his elation at
the man's suggestion. Here was Hugh, real Hugh. And tonight,
surely it wouldn't do any harm to spend some time together? Just
friends?

"Where to?" he asked.

"Well, maybe we can go back to my place and you make me some
dinner," Hugh asked sheepishly. "And we can watch some horror
movies together."

It was all James could do to walk away from Hugh's place. He
couldn't go back there, but he couldn't tell Hugh no either, not
when the man was looking at him that way, his handsome face daring
while pleading James to have pity on him and say yes. James' eyes
noticed then the small coffee stain on Hugh's shirt. How could he
say no to Hugh?



"My favorite food," Hugh said happily before taking a bite on the
pepper ham sandwich. "I'll double your pay, triple it, James,
please be my housekeeper once again."

"Why can't you find another housekeeper?" James asked, sitting
beside Hugh on the couch with a bowl of popcorns in his hands.

"Why should I when you've filled the position so well?" Hugh asked
back. "I like the way you cook and clean. This place is falling to
bits without you."

"Come on, don't exaggerate," James said, trying not to look at
Hugh's questioning gaze. "I'm only a housekeeper."

"I thought you were my friend," the other man said quietly. "Or is
that only on my part?"

James didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "You're my friend," he
said. Truly, he had no idea how to tell Hugh how much the man had
meant to him, or if he could at all.

"Then can we be friends still?" Hugh asked.

To James, Hugh seemed even shy at the moment, incredible indeed as
he had never seen Hugh in any mood other than quiet contemplation
or jovial self-confidence. "Yes," he could only say.

"And cook and clean for me?"

James laughed, he couldn't help it. "Don't push your luck," he
said lightly.

"Just another one who ran away then," Hugh murmured, reaching for
the remote control.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing."

"I heard you say something about me running away," James told him.

"Well, you did run away, didn't you?"

An accusation, under which James deflated. "Yeah."

"May I know why?" Hugh asked. "Not that it's anything, but I'd
just like to know why you ran away from me. For record's sake."

He wasn't fooling James. "Hugh," James said in a heavy sigh. "I'm
sorry."

"You're not the first," Hugh said, defensively. "So don't beat
yourself over it."

"Want to tell me about it?"

"If you'll tell me why you left."

"Deal." James would regret this, but he wanted to know Hugh, to
cherish the intimate thoughts Hugh would share to last his life.

"Well, everyone I grow to care for walk away, run from me
actually. Eventually. If I want to be cliched, I can say it
started the day my parents died on me after promising to return.
Or my friends in the orphanages who got adopted, leaving me
behind. Some very few ex-boyfriends whom I care enough to sleep
with, but they all walked out eventually. And I can't stop them
from leaving. Like you." Hugh looked defiantly far away across the
room, his eyes hard and glittering. "I'd like to know why. Is it
me? All I want is a home I never had, clean sheets free from lice
and home-cooked food. And someone who would never walk away from
me without a glance behind. That's all. Is that too much to ask?"
He smiled bitterly to himself and shrugged, as if he was trying to
make light of what he had just told James. "Now you, why did you
leave?"

"If I don't leave, my past will be exposed, and you may get hurt.
It's blackmail. I don't know why, but they want me out of your
life."

"So you made it easy for them," Hugh pointed out. "You gave them
what they wanted."

"I couldn't bear to see you hurt."

"What is it about your past that could hurt me?" Hugh asked as
calmly as he could.

James took a deep breath. "Marsden is my mother's surname -- I
never knew my father. My mother is a high-class call girl, and I
was raised among sex and drugs. I thought it was all a game,
letting people flirt with me. Then I believed a man whom I thought
loved me as much as I loved him. Turned out he didn't, and when I
walked away, he didn't like it. So he and six of his friends broke
into my place one night and took turns on me." He was amazed that
he was saying this calmly. "And then they got careless and let me
get hold of the gun I kept in my bedside drawer. Lots of blood and
the bastards were all sons of prominent men. There was a long
court case, all hushed since I was only seventeen then, but in the
end I got off on self-defense."

"And for that, they think that could ruin me?" Hugh exclaimed
gently. "Oh James, you are too na‹ve."

"I am, am I not?" James said bitterly. "I am so afraid. Working
for you is the first act that gives me peace. I'm no longer afraid
when I'm in your presence."

"People did say I look like a hungry wolf," Hugh said.

"You're taking my story better than I expected."

"Well, I wish I had that gun when I was fourteen," Hugh said. "So
what if news got out that my housekeeper shot someone before? I
don't care."

"I don't want to see you hurt."

"You hurt me more by walking away," Hugh said bluntly. "I can't
stand coming home to this house. You are all over the place. I
keep smelling the food you cook and I imagine hearing you humming
around the house. Sleeping isn't the escape I need because then I
dream of you instead. Am I crazy?"

"Maybe you are. I have no idea."

Hugh chuckled. "So now you know," he said in a low purr, his face
so close that his lips grazed James' lightly.

"I haven't had sex for almost six years," James said.

"Five for me," Hugh whispered back. "I'm as good as a born-again
virgin." He swallowed James' laugh in his kiss. "Be gentle with
me."



"Not bad. Pretty thick, and that's all that matters if you ask
me," James said, measuring the thick cock in his hands. The cock
throbbed in his hand, the veins pulsing with heated blood rush
even as droplets of shiny fluids leaked in rivulets from the slit.
"How are you feeling?"

James was still clothed while Hugh had allowed the other man to
talk him into divesting himself of his clothes. "How would you
feel if I am playing with your cock in my hands? I'm in pain.
Maybe you ought to kiss my cock to make me feel better."

And James did just that, letting his lips touch the cock tip
briefly. The soft feel of lips on him was enough to make Hugh
close his eyes and shiver with pleasure from the brief contact.
Then James let his lips touch that cock again, this time longer,
he letting the tip of his tongue lick along the sensitive slit.
The rough tip of the man's tongue on Hugh's smooth skin of the tip
caused Hugh's stomach to tighten for relief.

Still, James hesitated, and Hugh understood. He was still wary of
another man's touch on him. Old habits died hard. "James, it's
me," he said softly, echoing his thoughts - it was James, so it
was okay. "Just me."

"Yeah. I know." James then let his mouth envelop the wide head as
best as he could. And Hugh closed his eyes again, this time
letting the sinful sensations of having his cock sucked wash over
him. "Are you sure you haven't done this in years?" he had to ask
later. "Oh, that is good, don't answer me, just keep sucking."

James' tongue, that mouth and its suction. Hugh was lost in an
orgy of feelings as his cock was licked, sucked, and bit lightly
in voracious hunger. He couldn't hold back - it had been too long,
and Hugh didn't know how much he missed this until now - and then
he was coming in James' mouth.

As the last drops were drained out of him, he waited for the
feeling of being soiled and degraded to come. He felt nothing but
relief and an unfamiliar warmth in his being, however. And when he
looked into James' eyes, he saw the same emotions mirrored back at
him. James only looked at him as if he couldn't understand Hugh
but he didn't want this moment to end. Hugh saw James hesitate,
then James shook his head fiercely, as if he was fighting off some
inner demons. He pulled off his shirt.

Unlike Hugh's hirsute body, James' was smooth and almost devoid of
hair. James' body was also sleekly muscled, unlike Hugh's rougher,
coarser muscled form, and for a moment James seemed fragile and
vulnerable in Hugh's arms. But there was nothing fragile about the
way James' mouth closed over Hugh's, and Hugh let go of his
caution. He rolled over James, covering the man, and let their
tongues explore each other's mouths. James' touches on him were at
first tentative, cautious, and even fearful but as Hugh kissed the
man's reservations away the man grew bolder. James' fingers bit
into Hugh's buttocks, urging him on, and several fingers even
slipped past Hugh's tight sphincter.

The invasion only made Hugh ground his groin tighter between
James' widespread legs. The head of his cock pressed against the
tight ring of muscles of James' sphincter, then Hugh gritted his
teeth as he felt James' tight flesh gave way and his cock started
sinking into tight, unbelievably smooth, and wet heat. James
screamed, he really did, as the long-forgotten pain/pleasure of
being filled to the hilt scoured his senses. "Don't stop," he
urged Hugh however. "Oh Hugh, I have forgotten."

"Me too," Hugh gasped back, every muscle in his body tensed as he
tentatively withdrew a few inches of his cock. James protested,
and Hugh sank back in. Then James' hips lifted, allowing Hugh more
access to his anus. Hugh moved his hips, drawing them both into a
rhythm that was at first awkward, then languid, and finally urgent
as the tides of orgasm started to swell upon them both.

And James was laughing, tears in his eyes, when he came.

"Don't walk away from me ever again," Hugh demanded fiercely.
"I'll just keep coming after you."

James nodded.



"I hope you won't take this the wrong way, but I think you have a
great body," James said later.

Hugh looked at the man whose head was on his chest and then down
the length of his body. "You think so?" he asked.

"I always have a thing for hairy men anyway. There's something
about dark hair swirling around nipples. And the feel of my
fingers along the hairy line down your stomach -" James' fingers
demonstrated just what he meant, "- and the thick crotch hair."

"I take it you'll come back to being my housekeeper?" Hugh asked.

"The blackmail?" James asked.

"I'll take care of it," Hugh said. "Leave it to me. Now, about the
housekeeper post?"

"Okay," James said, closing his eyes.

"And you'll sleep in my room," Hugh added.

"That's so unprofessional," James murmured.

"Like what you're doing to my cock now," Hugh answered. "Come on,
you'll be on top this time."

James swung his legs over Hugh's and looked down at the man.
"Hugh, thanks," he said. "for everything."

"Yeah," Hugh said impatiently. "I'm thankful, I love you too, I
think you're sexy, et cetera. Can I fuck you now?"

And for that, James didn't stop when Hugh begged for mercy.



EPILOGUE

"And you have nothing to do with Anthony Boardsworth's suicide?"
James asked skeptically two months later. He placed the plate of
pepper ham sandwiches before Hugh.

"Well, I did have Dylan and Greg file some really nasty court
papers. And I did threaten to have his investors withdraw from his
crucial ventures. It's not my fault he can't take the stress and
shot himself in the head. Hey, I'm not that happy about his
suicide. I wanted him to really suffer, and he cheated me of it."
Hugh munched on his favorite snack happily. "Oh, and Dylan is
disappointed too. He was so sure the impending lawsuit would make
celebrities out of his law firm."

"I don't think you should go after the rest of the men," James
said. "Anthony sent the blackmail letter, and he's dead."

"But the other six haven't paid yet." Hugh smiled at James. "Dear
sweet James, still thinking of my reputation. Don't worry, I'll
just sabotage them financially."

"No stupid things like punching Bradley in the club."

"No." Bradley was currently in hospital with two broken legs from
a car accident Hugh would swear he had nothing to do with, and he
was facing enough financial crises to drive him mad. Bradley was
out of the picture. "I won't bother Bradley anymore," Hugh said
truthfully.

James scowled at him, not entirely believing him. Hugh smiled as
angelic as he could back. Call him weird but he liked it when
James nagged at him. It told him James cared enough for him.

"Trust me," Hugh told the man.

Besides, right now he had higher priorities in life. "Did I tell
you that you still are a very beautiful man? I may have forgotten
last night, but I really think you are," he said with all honesty.
"And can I have more sandwiches?"

He had his housekeeper back and his life was okay again. His home
was a home once more. Maybe tonight he would tell James that he
decided life wasn't so bad after all, at least when James was in
it. He hoped James felt the same way too - maybe he would ask him
that too tonight. One thing for sure - he was finally starting to
heal.

"Just don't get into trouble, okay? Are you okay, Hugh? You're
grinning like a fool."

"I'm okay. I'm free," Hugh answered.