We Do And We Do Not - Part Six of The Great Dane Saga by Alp Mortal
Categories: Contemporary Romance | Gay
Word Count: 15,801 Heat Rating: 2 Price: $ .99 Available here:
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Meet Dane Danois - the most fabulous gay man in the Universe ... in his own, never humble opinion. A man driven to live life to the full, and if there's a chance that he can help a friend along the way, he will. A sharp-suited, sharp-witted, sometimes reckless, sometimes dangerous, always intoxicating agent of change ... and loyal to a T.
In We Do And We Do Not, the final part of The Great Dane Saga, all roads reach their destination. In the wake of Anton's revelation that it was all a big mistake, Dane is left not only without his man by his side but the backers of his new cabaret club pull out. Time for Dane to regroup. Then, a startling discovery at the house on Jersey appears to offer financial salvation but the find is eclipsed by not one or two but three offers of matrimony. With all the world at his feet, Dane is faced with the toughest decision of them all. The Great Dane Saga charts the life of Dane Danois, and his many and varied friendships and relationships over the course of a 40 year period. The six parts of the story do not run in strict chronological order. That is because the story was never going to be a saga, but after I finished part one, it was clear that Dane was not going to shut up until I had written down everything he wanted to say - he was a poor narrator. Dane is neither wholly good nor wholly bad - he is just Dane - perfect in his imperfections. The six parts of The Great Dane Saga originally appeared in 2013, in single volumes, and then in the compendium titled All The World. All volumes were removed from the shelf in 2014 for re-editing. The six individual volumes, and the compendium, will re-appear during the course of 2016. I am always very happy to receive your feedback. If you wish to contact me directly, please email me at: [email protected]. Visit the website, www.alpmortal.weebly.com, for updates on the next gay romantic story or crime thriller which I am working on. Thank you, Alp Mortal |
Chapter One – I do!
“I do - I mean ... I will. Oh, shit; Anton! What do I say?”
“I do!”
“I do!”
We did, with style; just ever so slightly under overstated and everyone was there except of course for Gran and Georges. Not strictly true; I did not invite Vincent or Eugene or Ace.
Of course, my parents weren’t there; they never bother to answer the phone or write an email anymore. Too much of a good thing can be bad for you, and that includes orgasms!
We headed off to Paris then NYC and then back to London and, like the perfect gentleman, Anton carried me over the threshold of the townhouse in Battersea.
“Say if you want to move, Dane, if this feels more like my home than yours,” he said later over a glass of champagne that we’d poured to celebrate our triumphant return.
“If I can redecorate and change every stick of furniture, I’ll be fine.”
“It might be cheaper to move.”
“I’d still redecorate and change every stick. Let’s stay here and you can spend that money on a new car.”
“I do like the Porsche Panamera.”
“Have whatever you want, darling; I’m not paying for it anymore.”
“What did you want as a wedding gift by the way?”
“A new coffee machine!”
“Like I didn’t know that was coming.”
“Anton; I don’t need anything. What do you want?”
“I’ve got you.”
“That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said apart from open up ... Speaking of which ...”
“Haven’t I already fucked you today?”
“That was above the Atlantic so I’m sure it doesn’t count.”
“I still recall penetrating you, thrusting vigorously and seeding your furrow, as you like to call it.”
“Regardless, I’d like you to fuck me again.”
“Why do you like it so much when I do?”
“Obviously, you’re very good at it. Do you know, for twelve years during every session we had, I’d be talking and you’d be listening - or pretending to - and I’d be imagining just what it would be like.”
“How did you imagine it?”
“Like you and I were in a silent movie, all soft focus and brilliantine, on the chaise in the conservatory surrounded by orchids, and you’d leave me spent and then run off to war. No one would guess what a sexual leviathan lurks beneath that corduroy and polyester …”
“Dane; you’re getting me hard.”
“Fuck me now, dressed, against this kitchen counter.”
“Shit! Bend over and say goodbye to that suit!”
That’s the thing with Anton; all man, feral, hairy chest and huge cock, and superlatively gifted in the ploughing department ... just no respect for haute couture!
A little later while basking in the glow.
“Cheryl will want to know how these suits got covered in olive oil,” Anton said grinning almost bashfully.
“I’ll take them to the cleaner’s myself to spare you any embarrassment.”
“What about the teeth marks in the breadboard?”
“We’ll say we had a dog here on trial.”
“And they fucked you?”
“Maybe we’ll just buy a new one.”
“Apparently we’re changing everything …”
“Are we going out for dinner tonight?” I asked.
“I’d rather stay in and enjoy the last night of our honeymoon alone together.”
Could I be happier? No.
“Okay. I have to make a few calls; why don’t you put some water on for pasta?”
Taking rather longer than anticipated to square all the circles, I reconvene with Anton, who has dinner almost ready.
“Is everything on track for the opening of the club?” Anton asked.
“Absolutely! It will be the finest, most exquisite, hellishly exclusive and exorbitantly expensive cabaret bar in the entire Universe. The first meeting of the Board is next week now that the Jersey proceeds are banked. The purchase of the flat in Saint Helier for Clarissa has gone through - I have to keep a foothold for the tax breaks.”
“And the Depot?”
“Katy is doing a fine job; I rake in the advertising income from the hoardings and she keeps the rest.”
“The dance class?”
“Now I’m back, I can put a light under it; just twice a week - already full.”
I could see a twitch in the corduroys and not the sort of twitch I like most. “I know the club will absorb a lot of energy but only for a few months. You’re still working so neither of us is sitting here waiting for the other one to come home. And it’ll wind down a little after the club has opened; it’s what I’m employing Barry for.”
“I just want you to have time to enjoy things; you still have the dogs and the kitchen.”
“I’ll ramp things down and you said India and I’m all for it.”
“Two fucking fifty-year-old hippies, looking for a guru?”
“Not exactly the image I had in mind, but if it’s this season I’ll wear it; Viv can design me a kaftan.”
“You’ll really do it?”
“I said I would.”
“Next year when I’m fifty?”
“Absolutely.”
“Six months in India?”
“You got it.”
“I thought you said yes to appease me.”
“I said yes because it’s what you really want and even if I’m not as keen as you, there are things I want to see, and six months with you uninterrupted is going to be such good medicine. Are you working tomorrow?”
“Yes, but only in the morning … You?”
“Having lunch with Luke before he goes back to LA; meeting Jake about the premises for the club, and then we’re having dinner with Angela and William ... Why are you frowning, Anton; you never frown unless you have indigestion or bad news ...”
“I do - I mean ... I will. Oh, shit; Anton! What do I say?”
“I do!”
“I do!”
We did, with style; just ever so slightly under overstated and everyone was there except of course for Gran and Georges. Not strictly true; I did not invite Vincent or Eugene or Ace.
Of course, my parents weren’t there; they never bother to answer the phone or write an email anymore. Too much of a good thing can be bad for you, and that includes orgasms!
We headed off to Paris then NYC and then back to London and, like the perfect gentleman, Anton carried me over the threshold of the townhouse in Battersea.
“Say if you want to move, Dane, if this feels more like my home than yours,” he said later over a glass of champagne that we’d poured to celebrate our triumphant return.
“If I can redecorate and change every stick of furniture, I’ll be fine.”
“It might be cheaper to move.”
“I’d still redecorate and change every stick. Let’s stay here and you can spend that money on a new car.”
“I do like the Porsche Panamera.”
“Have whatever you want, darling; I’m not paying for it anymore.”
“What did you want as a wedding gift by the way?”
“A new coffee machine!”
“Like I didn’t know that was coming.”
“Anton; I don’t need anything. What do you want?”
“I’ve got you.”
“That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said apart from open up ... Speaking of which ...”
“Haven’t I already fucked you today?”
“That was above the Atlantic so I’m sure it doesn’t count.”
“I still recall penetrating you, thrusting vigorously and seeding your furrow, as you like to call it.”
“Regardless, I’d like you to fuck me again.”
“Why do you like it so much when I do?”
“Obviously, you’re very good at it. Do you know, for twelve years during every session we had, I’d be talking and you’d be listening - or pretending to - and I’d be imagining just what it would be like.”
“How did you imagine it?”
“Like you and I were in a silent movie, all soft focus and brilliantine, on the chaise in the conservatory surrounded by orchids, and you’d leave me spent and then run off to war. No one would guess what a sexual leviathan lurks beneath that corduroy and polyester …”
“Dane; you’re getting me hard.”
“Fuck me now, dressed, against this kitchen counter.”
“Shit! Bend over and say goodbye to that suit!”
That’s the thing with Anton; all man, feral, hairy chest and huge cock, and superlatively gifted in the ploughing department ... just no respect for haute couture!
A little later while basking in the glow.
“Cheryl will want to know how these suits got covered in olive oil,” Anton said grinning almost bashfully.
“I’ll take them to the cleaner’s myself to spare you any embarrassment.”
“What about the teeth marks in the breadboard?”
“We’ll say we had a dog here on trial.”
“And they fucked you?”
“Maybe we’ll just buy a new one.”
“Apparently we’re changing everything …”
“Are we going out for dinner tonight?” I asked.
“I’d rather stay in and enjoy the last night of our honeymoon alone together.”
Could I be happier? No.
“Okay. I have to make a few calls; why don’t you put some water on for pasta?”
Taking rather longer than anticipated to square all the circles, I reconvene with Anton, who has dinner almost ready.
“Is everything on track for the opening of the club?” Anton asked.
“Absolutely! It will be the finest, most exquisite, hellishly exclusive and exorbitantly expensive cabaret bar in the entire Universe. The first meeting of the Board is next week now that the Jersey proceeds are banked. The purchase of the flat in Saint Helier for Clarissa has gone through - I have to keep a foothold for the tax breaks.”
“And the Depot?”
“Katy is doing a fine job; I rake in the advertising income from the hoardings and she keeps the rest.”
“The dance class?”
“Now I’m back, I can put a light under it; just twice a week - already full.”
I could see a twitch in the corduroys and not the sort of twitch I like most. “I know the club will absorb a lot of energy but only for a few months. You’re still working so neither of us is sitting here waiting for the other one to come home. And it’ll wind down a little after the club has opened; it’s what I’m employing Barry for.”
“I just want you to have time to enjoy things; you still have the dogs and the kitchen.”
“I’ll ramp things down and you said India and I’m all for it.”
“Two fucking fifty-year-old hippies, looking for a guru?”
“Not exactly the image I had in mind, but if it’s this season I’ll wear it; Viv can design me a kaftan.”
“You’ll really do it?”
“I said I would.”
“Next year when I’m fifty?”
“Absolutely.”
“Six months in India?”
“You got it.”
“I thought you said yes to appease me.”
“I said yes because it’s what you really want and even if I’m not as keen as you, there are things I want to see, and six months with you uninterrupted is going to be such good medicine. Are you working tomorrow?”
“Yes, but only in the morning … You?”
“Having lunch with Luke before he goes back to LA; meeting Jake about the premises for the club, and then we’re having dinner with Angela and William ... Why are you frowning, Anton; you never frown unless you have indigestion or bad news ...”
