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Trip to Atlantic City
Part 2

by Rolf and Gayspankee

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Copyright on this story text belongs at all times to the original authors only, whether stated explicitly in the text or not. The original date of posting to the MMSA was: 19 Apr 2000

"So where are we going first Matthew, the beach or the casino?"

"Well if we go to the beach, I want to swim and Rolf said that was off limits."

"The casino it is."

Marc grabbed his wallet and they were downstairs in no time. They were just amazed at the size of that place. Marc was determined to win back that money he spent this morning. He went right to the slot machine and started popping coins and pulling levers. Matthew got bored watching Marc and wandered over to the black jack table. Matthew observed for a while, and decided to place a bet.

It was only $10, he was limited to $100 for the day. But the great thing was, HE WON! And he kept winning! By the time he got up from the table, he had doubled his money. He went to find Marc to gloat.

He thought Marc would be in the same general area, but he was no where to be found. He sat down and put a few quarters into the machine and pulled the lever. He won another $25. As he was busy collecting the change and putting it into his cup, a waitress came over with the free drinks. Matthew took one, giving the waitress a $5 tip. He was having just the BEST time. He downed the drink in two gulps and then went to find Marc.

Marc had gotten tired of the quarter slot machines. He had won a few small jackpots, but was still steadily losing. He had heard that the dollar machines had bigger payouts, so he headed in that direction.

Marc was also limited to $100 and had already lost $75 of it. He knew he needed big winnings if he was gonna have any fun this weekend. So he put the first dollar in and pulled the handle.

Matthew meanwhile was searching the casino for Marc. He was on top of the world. He wasn't a big gambler but when he won, look out he was Mr. Big Stuff. He searched high and low, stopping occasionally to pop a coin in the slot machine. And every coin spent was a winner. Finally he found Marc. Marc looked a bit frazzled stuffing those dollars into the machines.

"Hey Marc I am having the best luck, check this out." Matthew said as he showed Marc his winning cup. "How is lady luck treating you?"

Marc flashed a glare. "Lady luck? There is a fucking reason why I am gay, and that is because of women like Lady fucking Luck."

Matthew didn't like the sound of that. But the comment was so INCREDIBLY funny, he just burst into loud laughter. "Lady fucking Luck, you're gay because of Lady fucking Luck?" Matthew could barely say that as he dissolved into another fit of the giggles. He laughed so hard he dropped his coin cup on the floor, spilling the coins in all directions. He then fell to his knees, tears threatening to roll down his face from his laughter. He started to scoop up the change.

Marc looked around, and noticed that quite a few people in the near vicinity were looking at Matthew, and wondering what in the world had happened to him. To say that Marc was embarrassed would be the understatement of the century. And on top of that, he was mad at his luck as well.

Security came over to Matthew who was laughing so hard his breathing was off balance.

"Is everything alright sir? Is this man bothering you?"

"Bothering *him*? Who is the dumb fuck rolling on the floor?"

"There is no need for that sort of language. I wasn't speaking to you anyway."

"Oooh 'wasn't speaking to you'," Marc said mockingly. "bite me."

"Okay sir, out you go!"

"What?" Matthew and Marc said simultaneously.

"You heard me, I want you out of here, and I don't want you back in here again!"

Marc wasn't thinking straight, he couldn't believe his luck, or lack thereof. He spoke the first thing that came to mind. "That's gonna be a bit hard shit-head, since I am staying at this hotel."

Matthew scrambled up from the floor, trying to get his two cents in before the situation was COMPLETELY out of control. "Sir, really, he didn't mean that. He's just having some bad luck, and I guess I didn't help any by laughing."

"Sorry, sir, but he's leaving, and leaving right now. Come with me." The security guard grabbed hold of Marc's arm and started towards the doors.

Matthew was left standing with his mouth open, not believing that this was actually happening. He dropped back to the floor and quickly gathered up his dropped change, nearly sprinting away in the direction that Marc had been taken.

Marc allowed himself to be guided out of the casino and into the security office. The guard let go of his arm, and proceeded to start typing on the computer. "What room are you in, sir?"

"Fifteen fucking sixty four." Marc said sullenly.

"I can do without that language, thank you." The security guard typed the room number in the computer. "Mr. Monet, I presume?"

"No, dumbass, I'm not Mr. Monet. Marc. The name is Marc. M A R C. If I am getting thrown out of the hotel, can we get on with the process?"

"The room is registered to a Mr. Monet. Is that your room also?" The security guard was trying really hard to ignore the attitude and just get the facts straight.

"Yes, you asked for the room number, I gave you MY room number. CAN I GO NOW?" Marc was beyond all reason.

"There is a note now tacked onto that room. Neither you NOR anyone else in that room may enter the casino again during your stay here. Don't even THINK about going into that casino, as you WILL lose your right to stay here, and you WILL be charged for the entire length of your stay, whether you are here or on the street. NOW you may leave."

"Thanks a fucking lot. I was losing anyway, you don't need any more of MY money." With that, Marc left the security office and entered the lobby of the hotel.

The security officer muttered under his breath "Kids. Someone just needs to kick them in the ass some days."

"Marc what happened? What did he say? What's going on?" Matthew said thoroughly panicked.

"The casino is off limits for the remainder of the stay, for all *3* of us."

"Boy did you ever get lucky. Rolf would have skinned you alive had you gotten us kicked out."

"I still can't believe this shit. Here I spent like $300 dollars in there, and because of one little scene I get kicked out."

"THREE HUNDRED DOLLARS?!?! That is...that's your limit for the entire weekend!" Matthew stood there, his jaw hanging open in complete surprise.

"What's the big deal? I can win it back. I won't have a chance to come back for a while, so I'm going to have all the fun I can. If that means spending a little more, then oh well."

"MARC?!!! Rolf, you know...the guy we came with? ROLF? He's not going to be hap-"

Marc walked off, totally frustrated and not the least bit interested in ANOTHER lecture.

Matthew stood in shock for a moment or two, wondering if Marc had a death wish or something. Marc had gone over Rolf's spending limit as if it didn't exist. He got them banned from the casino, and he knew Rolf would want to play. Now he was going to have to do it at another casino. Well, as long as Matthew wasn't going to get caught in the crossfire, he was going to remain uninterested. He jogged after Marc, who had walked out the front of the hotel.

"Hey, wait up. Where are we going now?"

"To the next casino, I HAVE to have better luck there."

"Marc are you insane? You can't spend like that, not with Rol-"

"Matthew, with all do respect fuck Rolf. Rolf doesn't own me. I am not here spending...or excuse me, LOSING Rolf's money. It is MY money on the line. And I will spend as much as I want."

Matthew was simply floored by Marc's actions. He had never, NEVER seen Marc act like that. It was like he was a completely different person. And to speak of Rolf like that. Marc usually had the utmost respect for him. Matthew now knew that Marc had a problem, the question was what to do about it.

Matthew quietly trailed after Marc into a casino across the street. This one was bigger, and a little busier. Marc checked out his wallet and realized he had only $50 left. Time to go cash a check. He went up to one of the windows and had to wait for 15 minutes. He was already in a bad mood and the wait wasn't helping his temper any. He finally made it up to the front of the line. "I'd like to cash a check."

"Are you a guest of the hotel sir?"

"No, does it matter?"

"Yes, sir, it does matter. We can only cash checks for registered guests or f-"

"Fine bitch, I'll go somewhere else!" Marc grabbed his check off the counter and stormed off, practically leaving Matthew in the dust.

The guests behind Marc in the line just stared at one another, shaking their heads.

Meanwhile, back at the hotel, Rolf had arrived early from his meeting. He stopped by the front desk to see if there were any messages.

"Hello, are there any messages for me? Rolf Monet, room 1564?"

"Mr. Monet. Let me check for you."

The desk clerk brought up Rolf's account on the computer, and saw that it was flagged by the security guard. He picked up the phone and called him down.

"Is there a problem?"

"Mr. Monet there appears to have been some sort of altercation this afternoon in our casino. Zack our security guard will be right down. He is the one who dealt with the situation, and he will fill you in."

Rolf did not like the sound of that. He stepped off to the side, a thousand thoughts swirling, none of them good. Finally, Zack came down and greeted Rolf.

"Mr. Monet? Zack Taylor." Zack said, shaking Rolf's hand.

"Mr. Taylor, was there a problem today?"

"A small one sir. I went over to check on Marc? I think. He was at the slot machines and there was another gentleman on the floor, picking up change. I simply wanted to make sure there weren't any problems, and Marc had a bit of an attitude and a mouth a sailor would be proud of. I felt it necessary to escort him from the casino. Had he been the least bit cooperative, I may not have banned him for the rest of his stay but he remained extremely rude and uncooperative. The only way to handle that is to post a note on the room, and unfortunately, that leaves you and anyone else in the room unable to access the casino as well. I apolo-"

"Mr. Taylor, no apology needed. Had I been in your position, that is the LEAST I would have done. Thank you for your time." With that, Rolf turned and headed for the elevators, leaving Mr. Taylor wondering how upset Rolf really was.

Rolf went straight up to the room. He was hot and sweaty and now to boot, furious. He walked around the corner and just about stumbled over the room service cart that Matthew had left outside the room. Rolf surveyed the damage, wondering exactly how much money was spent on lunch. He opened the door and entered the room. As he expected, the boys weren't there. Rolf mentally went through his options. It was 4, and the boys weren't expected to be back until close to 7, knowing their propensity to wait until the last minute. He could wait for them. He thought that was probably all he could do, as he had no idea where they went. He stripped off his work clothes and hit the shower, a long, luxurious shower, and his temper cooled a bit as the water pounded out some of the stress from his busy day.

He put on his more casual clothes and turned the television on. As he sat for a few minutes watching the tv, his temper warmed back up. He looked at his watch and decided he could not wait for 2 1/2 more hours. There was no telling what those boys were up to, and Marc was obviously not in control of his sanity, at least enough to keep Matthew out of trouble. He saw the swimsuits on the floor, and decided the boys were probably not on the beach. If they were downstairs at this casino just a little earlier, then they probably didn't go far. There were enough hotels within walking distance to keep them occupied, so that was where he would start. He strode out the door with purpose, intent on finding the boys as quickly as possible.

Rolf walked past a couple of hotels, not really knowing where to begin. Just as he was ready to enter one, he spotted Matthew and Marc across the street. Rolf wanted to observe them first. While he didn't doubt the guards judgement, he hadn't known Marc to act that way before. He followed them into another casino. That worried him. They had to be spending way too much money. He kept a safe distance, as he wasn't ready to be seen yet. He observed as Marc sat down at one of the slot machines, Matthew by his side. Matthew wasn't playing, only keeping Marc company. Marc kept popping coin after coin into the machine, and getting nothing in return. He heard Marc raise his voice, and a list of expletives came pouring out. Then he smacked the machine and got up. It was time to stop this behavior. Rolf walked up behind the two and made his presence known by clearing his throat. Matthew spun around while Marc remained facing forward.

Matthew's gut reaction was to shout Rolf's name and hug him. But the scowl on Rolf's face made him check up, just stand staring.

"Matthew is that another fucking security guard? Another fucking idiot who thinks they are going to toss my ass out? Who the hell is...." Marc's voice trailed off as he spun around and realized exactly who was standing behind him.

Matthew swallowed the lump in his throat and took two quick steps back. That was exactly the *wrong* thing to say to Rolf.

There were several people in the near vicinity who turned to look at the developing situation as Marc's voice had been a little louder than necessary.

"Excuse me? What was that you just said?" Rolf said, glaring sternly at Marc.

"" Marc stammered.

"Yeah, that was what I thought you said. I think it is time we return to our room for a long discussion."

Matthew knew what that meant. He was glad not to be in Marc's shoes. Marc had also managed to figure out what that meant. He looked around the casino, looking for a way out. The only thing spotted was a stunning young go-go boy, shaking his firm white bon bon on stage. Marc tuned Rolf out long enough to hear "It's Raining Men" course through the casino. Marc was entranced by the beautiful vision, he had completely blocked Rolf out.

Rolf didn't know what Marc was looking at, and frankly he could care less. He grabbed him the arm and pulled him close so his mouth was directly next to Marc's ear. "I don't know what has come over you, but I intend to find out. I brought you here to look after Matthew, and you certainly can not do that by pulling the stunts I have heard and SEEN you pull." And with that Marc was escorted out of the casino roughly by Rolf, with Matthew trailing close behind.

Marc's heart was thudding painfully in his chest as he was unceremoniously dragged from the casino. He saw the looks he was getting from other people and tried to extricate himself from Rolf's firm grasp.

Rolf didn't let go until they were outside on the sidewalk. He spun Marc around to face him and said "Do I need to spank you right here?"

Marc blinked in the blinding sun. "No sir."

"Stop arguing then." With that Rolf grabbed Marc's upper arm again and started back down the sidewalk.

"But Rol-"

"Silence will serve you best right now, mister." Rolf said, not missing a beat.

Matthew trailed along behind the two, wondering how much Rolf knew, and whether or not Marc's attitude was going to rear it's ugly head as it had all day long.

The rest of the walk was conducted in icy silence. Marc was beginning to sweat.

Rolf grabbed onto Marc's arm tight as they entered their hotel. He marched Marc past the reception desk to the elevators. Just Marc's luck, Zack was standing near the desk socializing with the receptionist.

"Good afternoon Mr. Monet." Zack said with a huge grin on his face.

"Good afternoon." Rolf said pleasantly nodding his head as he walked past.

Marc felt so small as he was dragged past that security guard. While the guard couldn't possibly know what was in store, he knew something was up, and that was enough for Marc.

"Rolf, let go of my arm, pl-"

Rolf spun Marc around and whacked him three times fast and hard.

"I told you not to speak. Anything else to add?"

Marc just hung his head and shook no. If there was any doubt in the security guard's mind, it had to be gone now. Marc was beyond embarrassed. The elevator doors seemed to close and then reopen immediately, way too fast for Marc. His stomach was left on the bottom floor and the rest of the organs were twisting and turning, making him feel almost ill. He looked back at Matthew as he was dragged down the hall.

Matthew saw the pitiful look Marc threw his way. He felt SO bad for him. He had been in Marc's shoes more often than he cared to remember, and he knew exactly what Marc was feeling.

Rolf unlocked the door and pushed Marc in ahead of him. Matthew followed and Rolf then shut the door. Marc took a few hesitant steps into the room, uncertain as to what Rolf wanted him to do. Rolf pulled out the desk chair into the center of the room and told Marc to have a seat.

Marc walked slowly to the chair, knowing he was about to be interrogated and knowing the Russian mafia would be a cakewalk compared to Rolf. He slowly sank onto the oversized chair and slouched into a heap.

"Matthew, I'd like a word with you on the terrace please." Rolf said pleasantly. He wanted some confirmation of his suspicions, then he was going to send Matthew downstairs while he took care of Marc.

Marc sat nervously, shifting from side to side, his stomach in knots. He wanted to know what they were talking about. Heck, he would have been happy to just see the gestures, but he was turned facing away from the terrace. All too soon the terrace door slid open, and Matthew slowly walked by and out of the room. Matthew desperately wanted to console his friend, or at the very least acknowledge him. But Rolf made it very clear that he was to make a bee line to the door and not look back, unless he too wanted to face Rolf's wrath. Rolf closed the terrace door, and went across the room and locked the door there as well. He came back to where Marc was sitting, and pulled up another chair and sat in it, directly in front of Marc.

"Alright young man, you have a choice. You can make this conversation really simple and easy, or you can make it hard. I would suggest the former. Let's start at the beginning. Where did you go this morning when we arrived here?"

"The casino."

"Where in the casino?"

"Just the slot machines, I guess we were just hidden from view."

"You knew I had to leave quickly for the meeting. WHY did you take off like that?"

"I....uh....just wanted to see what it was like. I was only going to play for a few minutes."

"But you played for a lot more than a few minutes."

"Yeah, I guess so." Marc mumbled quietly.

"Marc, sit up in that chair and look at me. There is no "guess so" needed in that sentence. You DID play for more than a few minutes. When you returned to the room, what did you do then?"

Marc dropped his eyes down. This is where things were going to get dicey. He really doubted that Rolf would know anything about the beach. And he knew he had enough trouble coming for the rest of the day, especially when he told him how much money he had lost. "I just sat here, waiting for your call."

"Why did you hesitate? Is there something you aren't telling me?"

Marc was truly torn. He was already in deep.

"Marc Ryan you know the only thing I detest more than that vulgar language you have been throwing about is lying. So if you aren't telling me the whole truth you better come clean now. Because I *will* find out."

"I went down to the beach for a couple of minutes. I tried to get Matthew to come with me, but he knew better. He hung around and waited for your call. That is what all the food is from. When you called I came in about half way through your conversation."

"Alright, up to this point you took off without a word. You were told to stay in the room, yet you disobeyed that request as well. Which means I was lied to about that, isn't that correct? Have I got things straight so far?"

Marc was fidgeting, pulling at his shirt. Rolf was going through the day, picking out and persecuting him for everything, and he had only made it to lunch so far. The afternoon had yet to be discussed.

"Marc Ryan, am I correct so far?" Rolf said sharply.

"Yeah, I gues-"

"Yes sir, or no sir, young man!"

"Yes, sir." Marc said quietly.

"So after the phone call, what did you do?"

"You said no ocean, so we decided to go back to the casino."

"The casino downstairs, in this hotel?"

"Yes, sir." Marc was getting increasingly nervous as the first of the ugly stuff happened there.

Rolf noticed the changes in Marc's movements, knowing he was getting close to one big problem. He sharpened his voice. "Whatever in the WORLD caused you to get thrown out of the casino, young man?

"I...uh...." Marc just shrugged his shoulders. He wasn't ready to go there yet.

"Your explanation, NOW!" Rolf said, staring hard at Marc.

That icy look broke Marc. He was angry at himself. He was feeling horrible for carrying on the way he did. And he was scared of Rolf in his current state. Marc just broke down and cried. He couldn't help it. Rolf was taken aback by that. Of all the things he was expecting, crying wasn't one of them, not yet anyway. Rolf got up from his chair, and took hold of Marc's arm, bringing him to his feet as well. Rolf walked Marc over to the bed, and pulled him into his arms. He comforted Marc. He rocked Marc for a few minutes.

"Okay now. I want you to tell me what happened this afternoon."

Marc sat and sobbed a little more, gathering up the courage. Finally he spoke, his voice shaky, his words interrupted by hiccups. "I...I don't know. I w...was wanting to play on the s...slots. I started losing, and k...kept losing. I mad and said a few things. T...the security guard came o...over and I c...copped an attitude. He threw us out. I w...was behind some.....some money." Marc stopped for a moment, trying to figure out a way to sugar coat the money part.

"Marc, how much money did you lose in the casino?" Rolf knew that was going to be the issue, so he took Marc's decision out of his hands. The question hung in the air for a few moments. "Marc?"

Marc whispered quietly "$300" staring hard at the floor.

Rolf's blood pressure shot up several more notches. Instead of yelling, he managed to ask Marc to continue with the day.

"We went down to the next casino. I had try to win back tha...that money."

"Alright young man. Just spit it out. How much money have you spent today?"

Marc sat staring holes in the carpet, not wanting to put the dollar figure into words.

"Marc Ryan. How much!?"

Marc mumbled "$500"

"WHAT?!? You spent $500 in one afternoon?!?"

Marc cringed.

"What was your limit?"

Marc didn't respond.


"$100, sir."

"So instead of counting your losses you kept going, and going, and going. Do you know how irresponsible that is? I asked you to come along with us so you could keep Matthew in line. I shudder to think what he could have spent under your guidance had he not been more fortunate. This problem is bad enough. But to top it off you not only embarrassed yourself, but Matthew and I by the way you acted. And the language you have been throwing about. COMPLETELY UNACCEPTABLE. That is where we are gonna start. I spoke with the security guard, and heard politely what was said. Do you wish to deny the rash of obscenities that you rattled off?"

Marc wasn't feeling as good as he was just a few minutes ago when Rolf was holding him. It was getting rather chilly again. Below freezing actually. He couldn't speak, just shrugged his shoulders as he stared hard at the floor.

Rolf was beginning to work back up into his outrage of earlier. He stood up quickly, taking Marc's arm and raising him up as well.

Marc's heart started to race, he was incredibly nervous. He found himself being dragged into the bathroom.

"Rolf nooooo, please I am sorry. Please don't. Pleeeasssee." Marc knew all too well what Rolf was gonna do.

Rolf just ignored the pleas, and hauled Marc to the bathroom sink. He grabbed a bar of Ivory soap, and lathered it well under hot water with one hand, while pushing Marc to his knees with the other. Rolf grabbed Marc by the hair and pulled his head back. His anger was getting the best of him. Marc screeched as Rolf pulled his hair. As he screeched, the bar of soap was shoved in. Rolf furiously scrubbed Marc's mouth. The soap ground in and out, caking on his teeth as it was forcefully moved about Marc's mouth. Soapsuds were spewing down Marc's chin, onto his shirt and down onto the floor. Rolf wasn't satisfied until almost the entire bar was disbursed into Marc's mouth.

Marc was crying hard. Soap was everywhere in the bathroom, most of it having come from Marc's mouth.

Rolf hauled him to his feet and handed him a glass of water. "Rinse" was all he said. Even through his tears, Marc grabbed the lass and started rinsing his mouth as best he could. He sputtered and foamed into the sink for what seemed like hours to him, with hardly any lessening of the soapy taste in his mouth.

Rolf cleaned himself up at the other sink. He was still completely furious with Marc, but reined back his temper. He felt bad for the roughness with which he started the soaping, but he wanted Marc to open, and open quickly for the soap. He gave Marc a few more minutes to try to clean the soap out. He knew Marc would be tasting it for a good long while, so he wanted him to be sure to get out as much as he could. When Marc went to refill the cup for the third time, Rolf stopped him.

"No. No more. Put the glass down. One more spit."

Marc sadly dumped the water out and spit as much as he could. He had quit crying, now there were just a few tears and hiccups left.

Rolf turned Marc towards him and wiped the face clean. Then he pulled Marc's shirt off, then the pants. Rolf pointed and said sternly "back to the chair young man."

Marc felt as though he were two, having been undressed by Rolf. He slowly walked to the chair, dressed only in his Scooby Doo boxer shorts. He sat in the chair, head hung staring at the ground, dry spitting, trying without success to dispose of Ivory.

"Enough of the spitting young man. You keep that up and we will go back in there and do it again."

Marc quickly stopped, once was more times than he cared to experience that.

"Marc Ryan that was for your vulgar lashing out today. I gather that will be the last time you ramble on in that fashion any time soon?"

"Yes sir."

"Very well then, let's move on. Why did you go over your limit?"

"I don't know."

Rolf glared at Marc, as he looked up briefly.

"Marc Ryan why did you go over your limit?"

Marc sat there in silence trying to come up with a reason that would spare his butt any. But he pondered too long. Rolf was not in a tolerating mood. Rolf unbuckled his belt and slid it out of his belt loops. He doubled it over and snapped it. The sound echoed through the room, it echoed through Marc's head. Rolf grabbed Marc's arm and stood him on his feet. He walked him over to the table, and turned him around, facing away from Rolf.

"Bend over the table and grab onto the other side."

"Rolf, please, I will-YEOW!"

Crack! Rolf slammed the belt down hard on Marc's ass. Marc screamed out as the belt seared across the lower part of his ass. He quickly rubbed furiously, trying to rub out the sting.

Rolf turned Marc to face him. "I will NOT tolerate your disobedience. Bend...over...the...table...NOW!" Rolf said that as sternly and slowly as he possibly could.

Marc could almost literally feel Rolf's glare cut through him. He knew this was going to be horrible, and there was nothing he could do or say to change Rolf's mind. And stalling was only getting him in deeper. His face fell, but he turned around and bent over the table, grabbing on for dear life. He heard the belt buckle clink, and his stomach twisted in fear. Rolf then yanked down his boxer shorts, baring his bottom.

Rolf placed his hand in the small of Marc's back and brought the belt up high, before bringing it ever so quickly down and across Marc's upturned and vulnerable bottom. It snapped loudly, followed quickly by Marc's wail of pain. Marc kept saying in his head "I'm sorry, I'm sorry" but could never voice it as he was crying too hard as Rolf continued cracking the belt down.

Rolf ripped into Marc with a total of twenty five lashes. Marc was sobbing and breathing heavy. And this was only the beginning. Rolf helped Marc to his feet and led him over to the corner. Rolf was too tired to lecture any more. And at this point it wouldn't do any good. Rolf needed to cool off and calm down. He went to the bathroom and splashed some water, but that didn't cut it. He was hot, he was hoarse, as was Marc. He picked up the phone and did what he had to.

"Hi this is Rolf Monet in room 1564, I would like two iced teas with extra lemon please. Yes. Thank you."

Marc wasn't paying any attention to Rolf, all his thoughts were centered on his seared backside. He kept shifting his weight from foot to foot, trying to lesson the pain, but nothing was helping.

All of a sudden there was a knock on the door. Marc jumped, then looked around in a blind panic, wanting to find some clothes.

Rolf glared at Marc and sternly said "Did I tell you to turn around?"

Marc was brought up short by that remark. " But-"

"Nose to the corner, NOW."


Rolf pointed and barked "NOW!"

Marc miserably turned back around, knowing he had lost that battle, knowing he wasn't going to win it to begin with, but having to try nonetheless.

Rolf answered the door and found a young man of about 25 at the door.

"How are you doing this afternoon Sir?"

"I am parched. Please come in." Rolf said as he stepped aside and allowed the concierge to enter with his drinks.

"Thank you. I see that you had an order earlier today, I figured I wou-" The young man stopped midsentence as his eye caught Marc standing naked in the corner. "Oh...I can...I hadn't realized you were busy. I can..."

"Please, don't worry about it. There have been a few problems with that one over that, and I am bringing him down a peg or two." Rolf said, as Marc turned three shades of red.

"Indeed you are Sir. If you don't mind me commenting, I haven't seen handywork like that...since my old man...well let's just say I am sure someone is VERY sorry for whatever he did."

Marc wanted desperately to just crawl in a hole and not be seen in this city again, ever.

"I am afraid that is just the beginning too."

Marc felt about three inches tall as he turned ANOTHER three shades of red.

"I see you have your hands full then, allow me to grab these and I will be right out of your way." The concierge said grabbing the few plates that Matthew hadn't put out on the cart that were leftovers from lunch.

"Thank you..Andrew.., you have a good afternoon." Rolf said as he handed the young man a very nice tip.

"No, thank YOU sir." The young man said as he exited the room.

Marc was miserable and angry all at the same time. He couldn't believe Rolf talked about him like that, in front of a total stranger! He was working on getting enough nerve up to turn away from the corner and give Rolf a piece of his mind when Rolf's hand landed on his shoulder, startling him.

"Marc, come on back to the chair. We've got more to discuss, and I've got a drink for you if you'd like."

Marc bit down on his smart alec reply, and walked back over to the chair. At least if he had something to drink he might be able to work out some of the soap taste still overpowering his tastebuds.

Marc sprung to his feet as his belted bottom made contact with the hard wooden chair. Rolf walked behind Marc and firmly placed his hands on his shoulders, and guided him back to the seated position. Marc shifted uncomfortably, until Rolf gave him an icy glare. He handed Marc the tea. The sour lemon taste only made Marc's mouth pucker more. But he was hoarse and the cool beverage helped, but did nothing for that zesty Ivory taste. Rolf sat down on the bed again, looking right at Marc.

"Alright young man. I understand that you were frustrated. And I understand why you gambled in the first place. But what I don't understand is that when you lost, I don't know, twenty five bucks, why you kept spending. You should have cut your losses and moved on. I brought you here to look after Matthew. That is the sort of crap I would expect him to pull, not you. Then to make matters worse, you got down right nasty. There is no excuse for that. I want answers now. Why did you continue spending money when you kept losing?"

"I thought I could win it back." Marc was finding the glass of tea the most interesting thing in the world to look at. He could hardly stand the icy glare that Rolf was giving him.

"That thought has bankrupted untold amounts of people, Marc. You can think that for a little bit, but you kept losing! Did it not occur to you to stop at $50? at $75? And if not then, why not at $100, your limit for the day?"

Marc's attitude tried to make an appearance. "It's my money!" He said, a little too loudly.

"Yes, it's your money. But we agreed before leaving that you had a $100 limit, didn't we? And if you raise your voice to me again, you'll be sorry." Rolf kept his voice even, knowing yelling was going to get him nowhere but more parched.

Marc swallowed hard. Rolf was relentless today, and Marc could think of nothing else to do. "Yes, we agreed on $100, but I changed my mind. I can do that, can't I?" He finished snidely.

Rolf decided the question and answer session wasn't getting Marc anywhere but deeper in trouble. So he stood up, took the glass from Marc and set it down. Then he began lecturing Marc, fast and furiously. He left Marc with NO doubts that his behavior was not anywhere near acceptable and would be punished fully.

Rolf went back over to the phone, and once again contacted the front desk.

"Hello, this is Mr. Monet again. There was a young gentleman up here a minute ago, I believe his name was Andrew...That's right...Yes the concierge...Would please send him back up to my room...No, no problems, just something I think he can help me with...Mhhhmm...Thank you."

Marc shifted uncomfortably as he listened to Rolf on the phone. Hundreds of images flashed in his mind, as he tried to figure out what Rolf was up to.

"Rolf, why did you c-"

"You will find out soon enough. For the time being I want you facing that wall again. And I do mean in SILENCE."

Marc slowly and reluctantly walked over to the corner. No sooner did Marc get situated, there was a knock at the door. He started to turn around again, but Rolf was looking for it.

"Marc." Was all he had to say, and Marc put his nose back to the wall.

Rolf went over and opened the door.

"Mr. Monet, what can I do for you? Was the tea not to your satisfaction?" Andrew asked.

"No Andrew, the tea was delicious. I have a favor to ask. You remember Marc over there?" Rolf said, nodding his head in Marc's direction.

"Yes sir, I do." Andrew said, mystified, but remaining calm on the exterior as his position usually demanded it.

Marc was again wanting to melt into the wallpaper.

"Well I forgot to pack something that is obviously needed on this trip. That's something I won't forget again, but I need a replacement today. A paddle. A good, solid, wooden paddle. Do you think you could lay your hands on one within the hour?"

Marc blanched as it registered what Rolf had asked for. He wanted to run, hide, just get out from under the watchful eyes of the angry man and the total stranger. But he didn't want to be seen running, so he just stood still, fighting with everything he had not to burst into tears in front of Andrew.

Andrew remained straight faced as he said "No problem sir, I can be back within 30 minutes. Anything in particular you're looking for in size?"

"I just need a small round or square one, not too thick. I'm interested in sting more than pain."

"I'll be right back, sir." Andrew said as he left the room.

Rolf closed the door, and decided he was going to have Marc pay for it when Andrew returned.

Rolf placed $40 on the nightstand, directly to Marc's right.

"When Andrew returns, I expect you to give him payment, and thank him for his time."

"Oh Rolf, please don't make me do that. It is horrid enough for him to have seen what he has. Please, don't make me do that."

"Marc Ryan, you WILL do that. And you have made YOURSELF do that for acting so childish."

While waiting for Andrew to return, Rolf cooled off on the terrace. In less than fifteen minutes, there was a knock at the door. Rolf headed towards the door and opened.

"Ah Andrew, that was fast. Please come in."

"Thank you Mr. Monet."

Andrew entered, and stood in the center of the room. He pulled a paddle out of the bag he was carrying. It was small. About the size of a ping pong paddle. But it was solid, maple maybe oak. About 1/2 an inch thick.

"I hope this is to your liking Mr. Monet." Andrew said, handing him the paddle.

Rolf gripped and took a few swings in the air. He weighed it in his hands, just like the old pro he was.

"Yes, I think this will definetly get the message across. What do we owe you for that?"

"Think of it as a souviner."

"No we couldn't do that, I insist. How much?"