Tandra
Chapter 5

Copyright© 2003 by John Wales

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 5 - Henry Buchanan is a professional engineer. He takes on some of the more difficult problems, for many large companies. An earthquake alters his life, when he finds he has long hidden neighbours. He must now use all his knowledge to save not only them, but all of humanity.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Ma/ft   Fa/Fa   ft/ft   Ma/mt   Mult   Consensual   Romantic   Gay   Lesbian   Heterosexual   Science Fiction   Group Sex   Harem   Anal Sex   First   Oral Sex   Pregnancy   Sex Toys   Slow   Violence  

I threw a big party the next year, in my newly completed home. Caterers scurried about, serving the guests. Carl Shingle, his son Charlie and Paul, Charlie's lover and mate, and the crew; wandered about the house, thinking of what their work had born. Other tradesmen, that helped in the construction, were present as well. They were with their wives, girlfriends, and family. Most had passed up other more lucrative jobs, to come into the sticks. They had forgone their friends and family, for sometimes weeks on end. This was no accident, they all wanted to work alongside me. This made it even more important to work with them. After a while, we were all almost 'family'.

From across the parking lot, I admired the curved stone ramp, with a thick high stone railing, protecting it. It reminded me of pictures I had seen of the Great Wall of China. I was grateful I would not have to repel the Mongol hordes. The house proper, was surrounded by a wide cedar deck, and had an even wider overhang of roof. I still wondered at the reasons I'd put over two million dollars into a house that would probably never hear the voices of children. Though it had many furnished bedrooms, I was still single, and planned to stay that way for a while yet.

Rob Farley, the thin grey haired man, took particular pride in his skills as a mason. Under his direction, thirteen masons from as far away as Montréal and Toronto worked long hours. They made the walls and the long ramp leading to the front deck, all of local stone. A one metre wide barrier ran alongside the wide ramp. It ascended more than three metres in places. The walls of the house proper were clad with almost a metre of rock, even to the third story. He was incredulous at first, when he tried to make a quote for all this work. The massive steel girders, and equally large foundation, told him that the stone would be adequately supported. Well over three hundred tonnes of stone were used on the actual house and ramp.

Workmen guided their ladies throughout the house, pointing out all the points of interest. Especially the parts they had a hand in fabricating. The ladies marvelled at the large modern kitchen, with its double door commercial refrigerator, the six burner restaurant stove and hood.

Plants of various kinds sprouted in profusion, in most of the unused spots. Off of the kitchen, was a large pantry, stocked with some non-perishables. The large airy bedrooms looking ready for immediate occupancy. Some even took advantage of the situation, and 'broke in' the beds.

The party seemed to be going well, but I suddenly felt the need to be by myself, away from the babble. Stealthily, I went upstairs, into one of the small bedrooms. I was prepared to eject any interlopers, but the room was empty. I locked the door, and turned off the light. I lay on the bed, looking out of the open window at the bright stars in the moonless, and cloudless sky.

I didn't plan to be away from the party for long. Just a half-hour or so, to recharge my batteries. I'd lived alone for a long time now. Somehow, I sensed that this phase of my life was about to end. This big house was a statement about my future plans. I'd made it big, and I'd wanted it filled with people. But now, I wanted just a few more minutes of peace and quiet. I didn't get it. From below, outside the bedroom window, I heard voices. Carl, I thought, with a couple of the other guys who had helped me build the place.

"Hey, Carl? What is it with Henry? You know him better than most."

"Not sure what you mean, Rob."

"I've spent a year out in the middle of nowhere, building this place. Sure, I got paid for it, but I could've earned as much working somewhere comfortable. My family's really pissed with me. But somehow, I had to take the job. And once I took it, I had to keep going. And when it was finally done, something went out of my life. It's weird!"

"No, Rob," said Carl. "It's Henry Buchanan."

"Yeah, I'd sort'a figured that much out. But what is it about him?"

"I'll tell you a story. You know Henry and I were in Vietnam together? Well, that's when we first saw it. Henry could go into a village full of frightened people. Half an hour later, he had a hundred new friends. He had a few words of the language, but that's not it. He puts out some sort of signal. 'Charisma' comes close, but that's not all of it. A sort of 'psychic likability'. You see him, and you just know you can trust him."

"Yes, that's what I've been getting," said Rob. "He's sort of caring, gentle..."

"Caring, yes. Gentle, not necessarily! I've seen him turn into something primeval, a killing machine. Blind and deaf to reason, wanting blood, and more blood."

"No! I can't believe that. He might be the best man I've ever met. He'd never do anything evil!"

"You're right, he wouldn't. But he reacts to evil when he sees it. Some very bad men tortured and killed a friend of his. He got mad, then he got even. Over fifty of them. But to this day, I don't think he reckons the scales are balanced. He'd rather have taken out five hundred, a thousand. He keeps it hidden, but the anger is still there.

"The bad men were Gooks, I take it. He wouldn't have got all those medals if he'd done it to his own side."

"They were Vietnamese, yes. But so was his friend. Henry doesn't see 'sides' the way most of us do. He just sees Right and Wrong. A couple of times I saw him stand up to the top brass, when they wanted us to 'pacify' a village, with flamethrowers. He drew his gun on a Colonel once. And he was right. He went into that village, made friends, and came out with information about the enemy. And some damned good beer. The information saved a lot of good men. But I'll have to say that we were more grateful for the beer!"

What right did they have to talk about me that way? I kept my thoughts and words to myself, and wished others would do the same. I was not too angry at Carl, for he meant well. But I didn't like my life laid bare before others, even if they were friends. I was not relaxed. But I felt I had to get back to the party now, or end up brooding here, by myself. Perhaps it was for the best because I would hear more that I did not want to remember.

Coming down the steps, I looked over the banister, and saw some of my friends that had helped to build my home. I had to get used to them wearing suits. It was quite a change from coveralls, or jeans.

Walking by an open door, I spied Paul and Charlie holding hands, and admiring the craftsmanship that went into the structure. Looking at Paul, I thought back to when I first met the lad.

Six years ago, I had been in Barrie, on business. I planned to drop in at my friend Carl's home, the next day. That day though, I stopped at a neighbourhood pub, close to my motel. It was around six o'clock. I stepped up to the bar, and ordered a beer. I made some idle chatter with the bartender, a short heavyset man of my own age. The other patrons comprised solitary drinkers, and older men, talking quietly. Off in a dark corner, two young men talked. Across the room, the slightly older men argued around a pool table. A muted television was showing some sports event.

About an hour, and four bottles of beer later, I heard a commotion in the washroom. Turning, I was just in time to see the two young men being thrown through the doorway, and falling to the floor.

Both had blood all over their faces, and one had his shirt almost torn off of his thin frame. Seven men, from the rowdy group, came out of the bathroom. They started to kick the fallen young men. The ones on the floor curled into a foetal position, to protect what they could.

Getting up, I wandered over to the obvious leader. "Why are you kicking the boys?"

"They are a pair of fags, and were sucking cock in there. What the fuck is it to you, anyway?"

"Just looks like you boys have punished them enough. Why don't you let them go? I'll even buy a round, to refresh you from your workout."

"Fuck you! I like beating fag boys," he said, as pulled his foot back to deliver another kick. My high kick came from out of nowhere, and pulped the attacker's nose, spraying blood on those near him.

The rest jumped in to avenge their leader. I diverted a punch with my left arm. I delivered a punch to an attacker's rib cage, then another to his throat. I danced around the mob. They couldn't seem to touch me, in any way. I mostly used my feet, and worried that my hands would be damaged, if I struck bone. Their movements told me that they were very drunk, and this helped me, immensely.

Two were down with blows to the throat, and another two with sore nuts. The leader, mad with rage, stepped in. He got another foot to the face, that drove him back, and into unconsciousness. I even managed to snag one attacker, and use him as a shield, as the last tried to punch me. I just substituted his face for mine, then let the man fall to the floor.

"Well," I said to the last pugilist. "It looks like it's just you and me. All seven of you have never even hit me. Six are on the floor. Do you think you can take me? Or do you want to call it a draw, and take your friends home?"

The man about thirty or so, he slowly lowered his fists. Keeping an eye on me, he dragged his friends out the front door.

Looking down at the two boys, I turned them over. I was treating them like battlefield casualties. The one without a shirt, had long lacerations that ran the entire length of his arm. Blood flowed from his wounds, and puddled beside him. Both had blood shot eyes and bleeding faces. The other youth looked familiar, though I had not seen him for over a year.

The bartender came close and I said, "Will you get some damp clean cloths, to clean these boys up?"

"Why do you want to help these fags?" I visibly controlled my temper at his uncaring words.

"If you were being beaten by those thugs, would you want my help?" I questioned.

"Yes."

"Well then; consider me a good Samaritan, and get me the cloths, please." The barkeep shook his head, and went behind the bar for the requested items.

Looking at the familiar boy, I whispered, "Charles, what have you got yourself into? It is not healthy to flaunt your lifestyle in a place as small as this town." The boy looked uncomprehendingly into my eyes.

The boys were cleaned and assessed. Both had no life threatening injuries, just the mangled faces that would not require medical attention. The barkeep came over with a first aid kit, and I put gauze plugs into their nostrils, and deemed them fit to travel.

"I guess I'll be a good Samaritan, too. The first man you hit, has some very nasty brothers. I think you should leave with your friends, before they arrive."

It looked like the advice was good, for all the others patrons had left as well, leaving the bar with only the four of us. "My thanks for the warning. I think we will use it."

So saying, I got the boys up and helped them toward the front door. Passing the window, I saw some of the attackers with fresh troops, coming down the heavily travelled street. A gust of wind moved a shirt, to show a gun in the waist of one of the men.

I put the boys down in a booth to hide them temporarily. The bartender was using a dirty mop and pail to clean up the blood on the floor.

"I think it is too late for a strategic withdrawal. I think you should go and do some inventory. Turn out the lights, behind you."

The man raced for the door to the store room in the back, turning off the lights as he went. I took the sturdy mop, and broke off the head. It made a short, but thick, staff. I had just enough time to place myself behind the door, before it was flung open, to strike the toe of my shoe. Five men entered, and the door automatically closed behind them.

"You better get the fuck out here, Asshole, or it will go even worse for you," the tall heavyset man in the front shouted.

At least two had guns, I saw. This was no time for the Marquis de Queensbury rules. This very well could be a life and death situation.

I rushed between the men, who were unaware of my position. I brought the mop handle down on the wrist of the man in the front. A satisfying crunch reached my ears. Continuing the stroke, and on the upswing, the handle struck across the face of the other man. It pulped his nose in the process. The last newcomer pulled up his hand, and with a flick, a long blade came into view.

This time I made a feint, and followed it with a kick to his nuts. While the man gasped, the staff struck his throat with force, but not quite enough to kill.

The other two stared with their mouths open, incredulous, that one man had again beaten them. This time, they had come in ready for the 'old man in a suit'. They even brought guns and knives. Now, only the men on the floor had the weapons. And here I was again, and the two still standing had no weapons to protect them.

I did not give them too much time to ponder this. The handle struck, and struck again, driving them to the floor. Standing up, I walked to the first man that was starting to get to his feet with the gun in his left hand this time.

"Some people never learn," I said. The staff quickly broke the other wrist as well.

I kicked the weapon metres away, and stomped on the other man's hand who had brought a gun with him. Again the sounds of broken bones reached my ears, along with another scream of pain.

The bartender came out with an aluminum baseball bat. "I called the cops. They should be here soon. You'd better leave, now."

"Thanks again for the warning. You might call for some ambulances to remove this carrion." I opened my wallet and placed some large bills on a nearby table.

Bending over, I slapped the least damaged of the men.

"You boys have met me twice, and both times you ended up on the floor in pain. Fighting with your fists or even feet is fine. Usually people coming at me with guns, die. I doubt that you realize how close you all came to inhabiting body bags." Quiet, merciful hands, moved them into unconsciousness.

The bartender watched the men fade away, as if it was not particular trick to do. He asked in a quiet voice, "Is that true?"

Thinking about my reply I said, "I have killed more than I like to count. If this had happened in an alley, without witnesses, they would never have walked out."

The shaken bartender held the door open, as I helped the two boys to the truck. We left, just as the police rounded the corner. No doubt they would find the men, their weapons, and a shaken barkeep.

Carl was not happy to have his son's life style confirmed. It was better to have him home and safe, though. I mediated the confrontation. Two weeks later, Paul Santo, the other boy was welcomed into the Shingle's house, after being kicked out of his own. In an off hand way, Carl was happy. He had gotten another son. He could see that both boys actually did love one another.

Recalling my mind to the party, I walked downstairs, and put a can of Export in Rob's hand. The party goers had not missed me.

"You have done a fine job here, Rob. You should be pleased with your work, and especially in the way you did the fireplace. I showed the women your artistic touches. I think you will be working for a long time, when everybody finds out."

Rob looked over at the heroic column of stone. A tree could burn in the fireplace, without endangering the house. The hidden heat exchangers did their job well, keeping the house warm, without burning a lot of wood.

"I would have never taken on a job like this, if I had known how much mental work it would be. I work with my hands, not my head. But I wouldn't have missed this job for anything, after accepting it. This house is a thing of beauty, and I am glad I had a hand in making it that way."

Susan Tran slid quietly up into position, beside me. The attractive young woman, with lustrous black hair, slipped her arm through mine. She smiled up at me. She wore another traditional Vietnamese red silk dress, outlining her slim frame. It looked to be a more mature version of the one she once wore for me. Any man in the room would be happy to keep her company, but not to anger her in any way. She now had a reputation of taking out men who tried to coerce her. But they all knew we were a couple.

She said, "The house looks more beautiful than it did a few weeks ago. I don't know what you are going to do with the dining room, or this size of a house. Do you plan on having company, or a few of your old friends drop by for a meal, or house guests? There are five large bedrooms, and another three rooms that could be."

"No, I was hoping to have enough room for all my children, plus some friends. Would you help me fill some of the empty spaces?" Susan's smile said she was ready to start, now. Everyone here, knew we were engaged, but the date for the wedding was put off, for various reasons.

"If you asked, I would be more than happy to fill some of them." Leaving unsaid, which of the spots she meant.

Now it was my turn to watch my step. I had given her the ring. But things were not quite ready yet, for the date to be set. "Perhaps I will have to get it settled, soon. I wanted a big Christmas party, here."

"That is one of the things I like about you. You plan ahead... This is only Labour Day. Which bedroom is mine?" She said, trying to be coy with our guests present.

"The one in the far corner with the big bed. I was going to put the name of every woman here into a hat, for the traditional christening. Are you volunteering for this odious task? I know the women will thank you for saving them."

"I guess I will have to sacrifice myself. Most of the single girls would get writers cramp, filling in extra slips. I will be polite, and not mention the married ladies."

I stooped my large frame, and picked up one of her hands. I brought it to my lips. "You should consider the contest, closed. I think you would make the night the most memorable, anyway," I said.

Susan blushed. Especially as it was right in front of Rob. She was very shy and even an engagement ring did not mean a marriage yet. It was her own fault, for starting this line of questioning. She had wanted this relationship with me, ever since she was old enough even to contemplate a mate. She had gone out with others, but had not given herself to any of them.

Two Cadillacs, covered with dust and stirring up even more, drove in from the stone topped access road. They stopped behind the rows of other cars. Three well-dressed men and their wives emerged. I waved to them from the large cedar deck, that surrounded my home.

Blair Somerville, and two of the men I had worked with at Ontario Hydro, slowly walked up the wide path. They ascended the majestic stone ramp. They seemed impressed by the five hundred and eighty square metre house. Though I thought in metric, it was hard to not say in this case that my house was six thousand square feet, instead. All this, and it had been built far out in the bush, and equally far from any neighbours.

They walked up, and were greeted. I kept my arm around Susan. She was apt to disappear, when people showed up, whom she thought were above her social level. Introductions were made, and questions answered about the large home.

Susan took the women around, and showed them all the nice things the house had to offer. She had her own input as to what should be here. This was a major reason for the decor being the way it was.

"Glad you could make it, Blair. I wanted to show you the house. It is completely self sufficient."

I pointed to the large wind machine, and generator, about half a kilometre away on a high rock point. Beside it, large frames supported a solar collector, as we looked on. It did its job, but was really only helping.

Blair had seen the large transformers on the pole at the end of the driveway, and knew that he was being put on. "It is nice to see you putting your mind to something practical. But I thought, with all the hot air that you generate, the power source of choice would be different."

The guests within ear shot chuckled or laughed at the barb, knowing that I could take it, as well as dish it out.

The party lasted late. The men perhaps thinking that they would just step into the trailers, as they had done for the last few months. Usually, wives had to drive their husbands home. The caterers had cleaned up, and left. When only Susan remained, I turned on the bathroom light. I used the facilities, and turned the bedding down. I picked up the sleepy, and somewhat drunken woman, and carried her like a Ming vase into the bedroom.

I undid her clothes, and placed her in the king sized bed. Then I turned out the bedroom lights, and got into the bed, myself. As I moved closer, Susan snuggled onto my chest. Perhaps the official christening would have to wait for morning.

Chapter 6 »

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