"But my dear boy, you were complaining the last time I saw you that it was impossible to meet anybody," Maude protested. "All I was trying to do was ameliorate your difficulties in this area." She smiled sweetly and Ezra felt his mild, politely friendly expression slip another notch.

"Mother, I appreciate your efforts, truly I do. However, *this*," he gestured at the verdant gardens sparsely populated by clothed and naked patrons, "is absolutely not what I had in mind. For one thing, I would prefer to enter into a partnership with someone who was not financially obligated to me. And for another, how could you imagine that I, as a federal agent, could condone this, this *trafficking*?"

Maude's smile seemed to settle fixedly on her face. "Ezra, *dear*, kindly lower your voice. Ms LaFai will not appreciate either your crude interpretation of her party, nor your profession. These people," she gestured at a young woman posed against a tree, wearing nothing more than a long scarf hued in a dozen shades of green, "are all here because they choose to do something useful with their lives, and accept that their bodies are beautiful and worth including in the package. There is no compulsion; no 'trafficking' as you so delightfully put it." Her lips formed a moue of distaste. "You have chosen to consider a path that is fraught with danger and difficulty. I am simply attempting to ease that path a little, as any good mother would." She smiled and placed a hand on his wrist.

Ezra blinked. "I can understand you attempting to set me up with partners. It is something you have been doing since I was barely out of infancy. But mother, I don't think... no. I really don't think so." His eyes drifted towards a pretty lad who didn't look old enough to be shaving, much less legally competent to make a choice about being here. His face hardened, and he took two quick steps towards him before a firm grip on his wrist brought him to a halt.

"Every one of them is of full age. Don't you dare embarrass me!" she hissed, and Ezra drew a deep breath. "If you must insist on being a homosexual, then at least consider the young men here. They are clean, discreet, and willing to stand by your side for the period paid for. They have passed the most rigorous psychological testing: they are not addicts, they don't want to be prostitutes. All they want is a way to escape for six months, a year, and come out of it with something they can put on their cv's without embarrassment; maybe even beat whatever difficulties they have faced that leave them looking for money."

"Half a million?" Ezra said quietly. "I could take any of these home for half a million and keep them for a year. Do as I pleased to them. And you think I would actually approve?!"

Maude smirked at him, and glanced at the boy he'd been eyeing. He wrenched his eyes away, and she shook her head with a sigh. "I think you misunderstand. *They* pick too. They are under no obligation to leave with anyone here. And the contract between you will be very specific about what you can and cannot do. They do not want to have any, ah, conflict of opinion about what exactly half a million buys."

"No. I don't think so." Ezra turned and met his mother's amused gaze squarely. "I think I would rather find my own companionship."

Maude reddened. "I'm afraid you, ah, can't turn me down."

"I most certainly can." He tried to remove her hand from its grip on his arm, and winced as her nails dug in.

"I have already paid the necessary money."

"How the hell did you get half a million -- and why are you giving it away... oh no..." he shook his head in denial. "No. You're trying to clean dirty money."

"Not dirty, darling. Certainly not anything that would upset most people."

"So not drugs. Who?"

"J.C. Torrence."

Ezra froze. The man lurked on the borderlands of legality, a fortune that apparently was based in property had some definitely dark places. "You embezzled from him?"

"Not exactly. Just, I can't give the money back, and I certainly can't keep it; I wanted to do something nice for my darling boy, and this place suited both my needs and yours."

Ezra drew a deep, careful breath. "Very well. He will be the most expensive secretary-cum-housekeeper in human history, but you win." He flicked a glance back at the dark haired boy still watching him. "I'll take one of those," he said coldly, and started to walk away. "Tell me where to sign."

"You're assuming the boy wants to go with you," Maude said snidely, and Ezra paused.

"Stay here." He walked slowly back to the boy. He was sitting in the 'Thinker' pose, and smiled at Ezra as he approached, transforming his face from prettiness to something astonishingly attractive. The change lay not so much in his features as the personality reflected in them. He looked maybe late teens, but according to what Maude claimed were the terms of this place he had to be over twenty-one, with dark hair, open hazel eyes. Nicely toned body -- either the boy was very active, or he worked out a lot. Ezra walked slowly around him. Kid was more than just toned, he was well built and Ezra swallowed back his tinge of reaction at the size of the boy. "I'm Ezra," he said finally, responding to the boy's smile with a smile of his own.

"John." The kid bit at his lower lip, then stopped himself. "I'm twenty-two," he added, a shy glance peeping up through ridiculously long lashes, "Everyone's asked me that. And then they didn't really believe me, I think. But really I am."

Ezra sighed, and settled on the bench near him. "I have a slightly peculiar situation--" He stopped as the organiser of the 'party' headed purposefully towards him, clued in by one of the near invisible staff no doubt that Ezra was looking like making a choice.

"Mr. Simpson! Have you decided to take away my favourite troublemaker?" She slid an arm around his waist and leaned in, smiling, enveloping him in a cloud of softly fragranced air.

"Trouble maker?" Ezra asked cautiously.

"Not in a bad way," Donna LaFai smiled, laughing, "It's just, well, if there's something going on, John's always somewhere on the edges."

"I really don't think a troublemaker is--" he caught the sudden dejection in the boy's eyes and smoothly changed what he had been about to say, "the way I would describe anyone with such a sweet face."

Donna's eyebrows twitched, but she merely smiled at John. "Well? Ezra's clean, well-to-do. He owns a house outside Denver with land, even horses, I believe your mother said," she said, wicked merriment in her eyes, so much so that Ezra *knew* he'd been had.

"I do but--" She carried on over him.

"John loves riding, hasn't had a chance in a while. The money will cover his university and medical bills. He should have something left over at the end, but you will be fully responsible for his upkeep, accommodation and regular pocket money."

"Medical?" Ezra's eyes ran over the boy's naked form.

John attempted a smile, and said softly, "My mother's."

"I'm sorry, is she--"

Donna's touch on his arm stopped him and she shook her head sadly. "John is in excellent health. He has two degrees, and dropped out whilst pursuing his third, a doctorate on heuristic learning in robots to care for his mother until she passed four months ago."

"I *am* sorry," he repeated, his eyes worried at the quiet sorrow on the boy's face.

Donna smiled. "John, is Ezra acceptable?"

"As long as he's okay with my sheet." John nodded shyly.

"I'm quite sure he will be," she smiled warmly at them both. "I'll just bring John's out for you to read, and if you could fill in your own while I'm getting his?" She handed him a folder and a pen and hurried away. Ezra looked for Maude but she too had vanished.

"Aren't you cold like that?" he asked curiously, putting off looking at the paperwork in his hands. Surely to God he wasn't really going to take a sex slave home?!

John shrugged. "Not really," but as though the question had reminded him, he shivered, and goosebumps broke out across his back and arms, and he grinned. "Oh, that's attractive. You still sure?"

"Yes," he said firmly, and wondered at himself.

"You better do the form. Then we can swap."

Ezra frowned and opened the dark leather folder. He read carefully through the list of 'required', 'permitted', 'no preference' and 'forbidden' activities, a nineteen page list. It included everything from sexual activities that he never wanted to consider again, through to household chores, clothing preferences, jobs, descriptions of levels of social contact -- him with the companion, the companion with others, friends of his with the companion. He scowled, and started checking boxes. The boy could do as he pleased; he was not going to be required to even meet, much less sleep with, submit to, or be passed around among his friends and acquaintances. His lips thinned and the pen dug deeper. He considered every option, some briefly before crossing it out, some carefully. He was about to cross off sex from every column, and paused. instead he ticked, 'permitted' and scrawled next to it 'not required'. His dick twitched in his pants and he flickered a look at him. He wasn't going to say no, but--

"Here." He handed the folder over.

"I think Donna's supposed to read it first," John objected, and Ezra smiled.

"If I'm paying half a million for you, I rather think I can make some decisions about who needs to know more about me."

"Okay." The boy shrugged, and Ezra blinked, still waiting for the boy to query his convoluted speech.

"Are you serious?" he asked five minutes later.

"Serious? I rarely play jokes, particularly not with human lives."

"But -- I thought--"

"I'm not interested in 'owning' you, John. All I need is someone to keep an eye on my house and my horses. Keep my paperwork up to date." He hesitated; the boy was frowning, and he added, "I'd like to get to know you. If we want to do something else, then that is completely apart from this arrangement. But I am a very vanilla kind of man, I don't think we're going to be doing most of the stuff on that list," he grinned and after a moment, so did John.

"I had to look up half those things," he confided, and shuffled closer towards Ezra. "You're going to laugh when you see my form." He shivered and Ezra took off his leather jacket and draped it over John's shoulders.

"Here. If you need something, just ask. I can't look after you if you don't tell me you are cold, or hungry," he added accusingly as John's stomach rumbled.

"I was kinda nervous. Didn't want to barf over anyone's hundred dollar shoes, so I sort of skipped lunch."

Ezra closed his eyes. "Thank you for that exquisite mental image." He looked at John to discover a twinkle in his eyes. "I'm startin' to perceive what Ms LeFai may have meant when she called you a troublemaker. And I probably should point out that I sincerely doubt there are any shoes so cheap as to cost a mere hundred dollars here."

"Just as well I didn't puke on 'em, then, huh?" The boy tentatively leaned in, and Ezra shifted awkwardly until he gave in and laid his arm over his shoulders.

They both jumped when Donna's voice broke the comfortable silence. "Glad to see the age of chivalry is still alive and well, Mr. Simpson. This is John's sheet." She handed over another leather bound folder, and picked up the one Ezra had just filled in. She was smiling as she flicked through it. "Well, I would say you two are remarkably well suited. John, do you want to head up to the house and get dressed? Take the new clothes by your locker; everything else is in Mr. Simpson's car." She wasn't requesting and John rose to his feet and left, unaware of Ezra's eyes on his back -- and his still uncovered ass.

"Have you read through?"

Ezra dropped his eyes back to the forms. "Yes. Can I..." he stuttered to a halt. "Can I keep this?"

"Of course. I have one as well, in case of any disputes, but really, his terms are very simple."

Ezra nodded, glancing back up to the big house, but John had disappeared inside. "So far as I can tell, he wants someone to be a friend, and maybe to love him and look after him." He laughed ruefully. "Maybe just accept him the way he is."

"He's a good boy. Completely innocent, and very sweet. Take care of him, Mr. Standish, or I will ensure that you never require companionship of any description again. And that is not from Madame LaFai. It is from someone who has spent the last three weeks mothering him."

Ezra simply nodded, accepting without comment the fact that she knew his name. In some ways it reassured him that she had researched him before allowing him anywhere near her party. "What the hell was he doing here?"

Donna smiled sadly. "He really does need the money. And he really does think he could do anything for it." She smiled up at him, lifting the folder he had filled in, "I am pleased to see you will not ask him for anything he cannot do." She laughed suddenly, and he raised a quizzical eyebrow at her. "I made him do the form three times. The first time he ticked everything as 'permitted'. Can you imagine?" She laughed again at a joke Ezra had a nasty feeling it was going to take him time to appreciate. "John as a submissive! Or, for god's sake, a dom!"

Ezra reluctantly began to laugh too.

"He's a good kid. And you're a good man. Take care of him?"

"I promise," he found himself saying and wondered at himself.

"Well then. Sign here-- thank you, and here, both pages. Good. John's waiting in your car." She closed the folders with a snap. "I'll send you the originals by hand tomorrow." She held out her hand and he shook it. "A pleasure doing business with you," she smiled, and left.

Ezra opened his mouth to say something, and closed it again. Tried again. Failed. He stood and walked slowly up towards the front of the house where no doubt, his car, complete with his newly purchased handyman, was waiting for him. "What just happened here?" he asked the darkening sky plaintively.

He looked around. The gardens were empty, the house dark, and as the first drops of rain hit his Armani suit jacket he broke into a run. "If nothing else, that boy owes me a coat!"

Next

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the fandoms listed herein. I am certainly making no money off of these creative fan tributes to a wonderful, fun show.