Werewolves of Manhattan Box Set

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2Tuesday

Sean awoke when a sliver of light entered the room through the dark curtains. He looked around wondering what happened and how he wound up in such a beautiful room. The clock at the bedside read 8:00. He sat up and went to scratch his forehead and felt a bandage and felt another on his side. It all came back to him. Mr. La Marche rescued him from the Russian and gave him the hospitality of his home for the night. He got out of bed, still feeling a bit groggy. It must be the sedative and the sleeping pill the doctor prescribed.

The bed had four posts, he grabbed one. He spotted a chair and sat to regain his balance. The room looked as if it came straight out of an art history book.

The drapes appeared to be burgundy silk velvet, tied back with golden tasseled cords. There were sconces placed around the room and reading lamps in a modified French Empire Style. The paintings hung on the silk wallpaper were original oils and could be compared to old Masters. He recognized the style of the various artists, however, had never seen these particular paintings in any of his art books. A tear fell down his check. I’ll never finish my masters, then he looked down at himself in disgust. How can I even think of that after what happened to Leroy? Sean shook his head to get rid of the cobwebs.

Sean designed and made porcelain pieces from clay to glaze, painting, and firing. He recognized some of the pieces on the mantel of the huge fireplace as being Chinese and of such an age that they were priceless.

His head stopped spinning. He needed to go to the bathroom. Grabbing the bedpost to ease himself up, he walked carefully to the open door to the right of the bed. There he found a bathroom as large as his old apartment. A shower with twelve heads stood in the corner of the room. It was flanked by an old fashioned, claw-footed tub. Two pedestal sinks stood opposite the shower and a door led to a steam room and sauna. In the middle of the room was a step down pool with Jacuzzi jets. It looked big enough to hold six people. The tiles were a brilliant white. Two black veined marble seats sat on opposite sides of the pool.

I wonder if my host has a lover. He felt a stab of jealousy so sharp it almost sent him reeling. Where did that come from? Another door revealed the cordoned off commode with a bidet. Mr. La Marche certainly knows how to live.

Sean emptied his bladder and found a white robe in what looked to be his size hanging on a hook. The room was a little chilly, so he put it on. Some fresh towels were draped on a towel warmer bracketed into the wall. He wondered if he could take a shower, he felt so cruddy after living on the streets for two months and taking showers at the Y.

A soft knock sounded outside the bathroom door. Opening the door he found his host on the other side.

“I see you found the facilities.” Sean wrapped the robe tighter around his torso. “Let’s get you into the tub. I’ll wash your hair. Dr. Artis left waterproof bandages so that your wounds won’t get wet.”

“I need my clothes. There is fresh clothing in my backpack, but it’s behind the Dumpster.”

“Meg washed the clothing you had on and it’s sitting on the bed. Are you dizzy? If you are, I can help get you into the tub.”

“I’m a little woozy, but I’ll be okay. Maybe I could take a shower; I’m too cruddy to sit in a tub.” Sean looked at his benefactor hopefully.

“If you wish; but for my piece of mind I’ll get into the shower and I’ll hold you so we don’t have any accidents.”

“That isn’t necessary.” Sean blushed. “I can manage.”

Armand was busy removing his own clothing. “Yes, it’s necessary. The doctor gave you a powerful sedative last night plus a sleeping pill and I see you’re still woozy. You’re in my care and I don’t want you hurt.”

“Do we have time? I mean before the police arrive to take my statement?”

“You’ve all the time in the world. If necessary, Detective Murphy will wait for you. Now get in, breakfast will be waiting when we are done.”

Sean shrugged off the robe and stepped out of the sleep pants, slightly embarrassed at his nakedness. He moved into the shower, hoping Mr. La Marche didn’t see his face flush. Armand followed. Sean was in shock that his host joined him in the shower. He knew he was still a bit out of it and needed help but Mr. La Marche could have managed that by just extending an arm into the enclosure or making him use the bath. He felt his c**k rise. Embarrassed, he gave it a hard thump. It didn’t help.

Mr. La Marche pressed a few buttons and the showerheads moved so that they wouldn’t hit Sean anywhere near his temple or side. Sean turned his eyes to the wall trying not to display his c**k which, with the sight of Armand La Marche’s tall, broad, and toned body, got rock hard.

“I won’t be long, Mr. La Marche, I appreciate all that you have done for me. As soon as I speak to the detective, I’ll be out of your hair.”

“We’ll speak about that after breakfast.”

Sean began to protest. “You’ve done too much.”

“None of that, now; turn around so I can wash you properly.” Sean turned thumping his c**k a second time, hoping that Mr. La Marche wouldn’t see its apparent interest.

Armand chuckled. “Well at least I can see you’re not indifferent to my charms.”

Sean’s fair skin turned a bright shade of red.

Mr. La Marche caressed his skin with a sea sponge going over every inch with long circular strokes as if Sean was made of spun glass. He turned Sean around giving using the same slow, sensuous strokes on his back. He dribbled water down his crack and washed between his cheeks.

Mr. La Marche bent down and washed Sean’s legs working his way up to his thighs. He turned Sean around and reached for his c**k.

“I’m feeling much better. Eh…I can take it from here.”

Mr. La Marche shook his head. “Let me take care of you, spoil you a bit. You’ve had a difficult time and you’re still shaky after what you saw last night.”

He put Sean’s c**k in his hand and soaped it and his ball sac with great tenderness. Sean was very self-conscious. His usually trimmed hair had turned into a bush. Why did that matter? He couldn’t fathom his reaction to his host. His d**k was ramrod stiff and he couldn’t stop leaning into Mr. La Marche’s caress. Mr. La Marche pulled him up against his chest and began to stroke Sean’s c**k; his own, rock-hard d**k rubbing against Sean’s crack. Sean couldn’t protest. He felt himself about to collapse on the shower floor with need riding him hard.

It seemed as if Armand’s—yes, he now thought of him as Armand—hands belonged there. I want him. I need to fall into his arms and make sure he never lets me go. He came in long ropey spurts. What am I thinking? I’ve known this man for twelve hours and I’ve let him jerk me off!

Armand remained silent. Sean’s knees weakened at the soft touches of the sponge cleaning his spunk off his chest.

“I’ve got you,” Armand said as he turned him around and put his hand into his hair. He pulled it up and back. Taking the hand sprayer he wet the long blond hair. Armand squeezed shampoo from a bottle on the shelf he began to massage it into his hair. The shampoo and the conditioner that followed had no scent. Yet, Sean smelled a delicious odor of wet pine and the green grass of springtime that wasn’t coming from the shampoo. Why does the shower smell like a forest in the spring?

Armand rinsed Sean’s hair and body with the hand sprayer. He pulled Sean into him for a hard kiss. Then he opened the shower door and took towels from the warmer, drying himself briskly; he left the shower as if nothing had occurred. He patted Sean dry using one towel for his body and taking the second to wrap around his hair. He checked to see if Sean was able to stand and then closed the bathroom door to give him some privacy to dress. Sean toweled himself off and again donned the pants. He couldn’t wrap his head around what just happened. Why didn’t I object to the handjob or the kiss? What’s the matter with me? What was I thinking?

The pounding of the shower heads had cleared his brain of the fog left over from the sedative. But he felt as if he were losing his mind. The shower gel Armand used carried no scent. Yet the smell of pine and newly mowed grass persisted. All of the products came from the same private label. He decided to let it be. Maybe the wound had f****d with my olfactory senses besides messing with my head.

Relief flowed over him as he felt truly clean for the first time in weeks. There was no deodorant. Sean shrugged, and put on the robe. He never liked heavy scents anyway. His nose was very sensitive.

Sean found his clothing on the bed. Everything he had on the previous evening was neatly washed and pressed. He sighed in relief that he wouldn’t have to go to breakfast in a robe and sleep pants. He felt vulnerable enough as it is. Taking off the robe and pants he put on his briefs, jeans, his sweatshirt, socks, and sneakers.

* * * *

Armand was sitting at the breakfast table when he heard the brass door knocker. Pierre went to answer the door and escorted Dr. Artis into the breakfast room. The doctor eyes shone with excitement.

“Sit down, my friend. Meg, pour Dr. Artis some coffee. You’re up very early doctor.”

“I acted on a hunch last night when I took some of the boy’s blood. I recognized him as loup-garou. I’d need to do some more tests to determine the bloodline but I’m sure he is a more than a half-blood. It took a dose of sedative, plus a sleeping pill to put him down last night and his wound was healing quicker than a human but not as instantly as a were. It remains to be seen if he can make the shift, however, with more than fifty percent loup-garou blood, it’s possible. That is why he had so strong a scent. Meg and Pierre noticed this too, but I told them not to say anything until I was sure of my information.”

“And now you are sure…”

“Positive. Of course you already knew that, Alpha.”

“If it was Dimitri, I wonder why he didn’t smell him as were in the alley.”

“The garbage, Alpha, it had been there for a while. I have an excellent nose and in the alley I smelled no trace of Dimitri.”

“I thought he was loup-garou but it’s nice to have the fact that he’s were confirmed and knowing he can shift will make things easier.” Armand laid his napkin on his lap.

“Pierre, has Meg sized the clothing?”

“Yes Alpha, she knew you wouldn’t allow your mate to dress so poorly.”

“Go to Abercrombie and Fitch and get my mate a few things to wear befitting his status. Pick out a suit from Barney’s, a box plaid with sage green to bring out his eyes. Make an appointment for the tailor to come this afternoon and make any adjustments necessary.”

“May I ask why, Alpha?”

“Yes you may, I intend to woo him and then marry him as soon as he says yes.”

“I understand, sir.” Pierre bowed and left the room.

“Dr. Artis, I’ve kept you too long from your patients.”

The doctor took this statement as a polite dismissal and bid his Alpha good day.

“I’ll be back later this afternoon to look at the bandage.”

Armand’s sharp sense of smell detected Sean on the stairs. He came down to the breakfast room. “I couldn’t help but overhear that you have wedding plans, Mr. La Marche. If I could talk to the detective, I’ll be on my way. I’m sure your intended…” Sean’s voice hitched on that word, “…won’t want a stranger imposing on your hospitality.”

“As of yet, I have no fiancé for you to worry about. We need to talk, but first you need to eat, you’re much too thin.”

Meg laid a large steak with eggs and home fried potatoes on the table in front of him along with a plate of fruit and another of toast and muffins. The eggs were drenched in Béarnaise sauce as was the steak.