Young Writers Society

Today should have been simple.

With such an entrance as that, it is clear that my day was far from simple and I am left alone once again in a dim flat to think about the trials and tribulations of my employment.

We are only fifteen days into the new year of 1768 and I have only been a captain in these colonial forces for a total of seven days. There are many stressors that are upon me currently as it becomes obvious that we will have a world wide war upon our hands. The Continental Congress and varying politicians still hold out their hope that Britain will let us be free, but if they truly believed such a thing they would not have sent Burgess Lee to my office.

Surely if Washington and Jefferson were as confident about Franklin’s abilities as they claimed the last time that we spoke, then I wouldn’t have been hiding the tightness of my pants behind an oak desk while a politician in far too tight riding pants stooped over to pick up his dropped hat.

Amid politely clearing my throat I asked him, “Is there anything I can assist you with, Burgess Lee?”

The fairly handsome Lee heir and I had been introduced during a small dinner party at Mount Vernon. My attendance was terribly out of place next to that of the many Virginia landowners, members of the Congress, powerful businessmen, and well known military officials.

(At this I should note that a so called small party at the Mount had at least one hundred and fifty guests.)

Washington pushed Lee and I towards each other with the simple explanation that our personalities and political ideals would match perfectly. From that first conversation I found out many things about Lee as he failed to hold all of the whiskey he was consuming. The evening had progressed to me carrying the man outside, tending to his sickness, and exchanging the touch of hands. We took it a step further to touching each other’s cheeks as we sat in the lovely gardens.

Moments later, he attempted to kiss me but I had to push him away for his riddled breath and the fear of being observed.

That was a week ago, on the day I received an official command, and we have not spoken since.

“After my rejected advance in the garden I thought that I should give you something to gaze upon first.”

He walked over to my new oak desk, hat in hand, and the stepped around to my side of the desk. Lee leaned against it, pressing his heels firmly into the floor and explaining, “I’m not sorry for my attraction but I am sorry if I harmed you in some way.”

“Mr. Lee…”

“You may call me by my Christian name,” he interrupted.

“Mr. Lee,” I began again, “the attraction is mutual but I am not as comfortable in public as you.”

He tried to push his hand towards mine as he went with another query.

“Why might that be, Mr. MacKinley?”

Lee’s lips popped as he said my name. The Burgess clearly had a privileged amount of safety. Everyone knew the power of the Lee family but it was still so unbelievable that I had never heard about him from someone before Washington’s matchmaking.

It took much of my energies to politely tell him, “Richard, we are of such different social classes that you will not be able to understand my concerns.”

“Oh Mac, don’t you know that these new Americas will be different from England and we’ll all be happy and free?” He asked playfully with a half smile across his face.

I shuffled the papers on my desk a few times, paying more and more attention to his bulge.

Many people knew of his opinions on politics and the scandal it had caused within his family. No family whose pride was built on plantation production wanted a freedom fighter for their heir, much less one who prided themself on stiff anti-slavery views.

Trying to avoid the two stiff members in the room, I plainly stated, “This will not be a free country until everyone in the country has completely equal rights.”

“And what shall we do with those who don’t want equality, Captain?”

“We will make them walk the plank and then go on without them. Our new country has no need to be founded on hatred.”

I saw the lines of stress slowly ease on his face as he realized that we were truly on the same side. From what Washington had discussed with me, the Burgess had plenty to be worried about, which was the cause for my appointment as a bodyguard.

“Richard,” I started, setting my quill down on the leather cover of my book.

“Please just ask me your question, Mac. I swear to you that I am man enough to handle any query.”

He smiled nervously as he spoke, looking between my window over the harbor of Alexandria’s section of the Potomac, my partially open door, and then always back to me. If we had been in private I wouldn’t have minded the attention but every moment in public with him simply made me anxious.

I began my question again by repeating his name and then asking, “Are you worried about our upcoming journey to Philadelphia and New York?”

He finally stood up from the leaning position against my desk and began to pace around my office space. Those slender fingers ran along the dusty framed pictures that belonged to my predecessor.

“Please don’t criticize me for the decor of this office, Burgess. I received those items as a result of the previous office owner dying and leaving his terrible possessions to me.”

There was no answer. His hand continued around the room and then stopped on some sort of odd stuffed creature.

When I had been shown the office on the first of January, I had spent time examining all of the curiosities. And from these lengthy observations followed by analysis…

Well I was pretty sure the ghastly beast was a mixture of a few things, probably made up for an afternoon circus.

“They are quite terrible, and nowhere near what would be appropriate for you.”

“And what would be right for me?”

“I’m thinking something tribal with a large phallus.”

We joined each other in a few moments of school boy appropriate laughter. I could remember when I first saw anatomy books in my military school days and how the feminine identified sections immediately repulsed me. Many of my classmates had already engaged in activities of fornication - an act I could only pretend to be interested in. It was during that point that I first gave myself to someone and learned how much oil was necessary for the process.

Such memories weren’t helping the pressure situation in my pants. To attempt to maintain the serious course, I took a sealed envelope from my desk which was marked with Washington’s seal. I then cleared my throat in an attempt to get the Burgess’s attention.

“Is there something on your mind, Mac?”

“Yes, I’d like to get down to the business you came here to do.”

“The private bedroom business?”

“The serious business.”

Richard took the wood carved mallard letter opener from beside my name plaque. At the moment, the block of wood hadn’t properly had my name attached to it yet and was instead covered by a piece of parchment with my sloppy script. He looked down at this pseudo sign, a smile spreading across his face, and then turned his attention to the letter. Washington had included contacts and designated stop over locations. From what the good colonial commander had included in my copy, I learned that I knew many of the locations were for taverns and inns he had chosen.

I did not know if this was part of his further matchmaking or just accidentally chosen locations. They were places I had heard referred to as “those sorts of establishments”. My companion must have noticed the trend as well as he asked, “Do you think our dear friend is aware of what types of places he has destined us to go?”

“With Washington I’ve never been able to tell how much or how little he might know about a situation,” I said while rocking back into my chair. It tipped against the window sill with a hard crack as the two pieces of wood made contact.

The noise alerted Richard to my actions. It caused him to look up at me, laugh quickly, and then go back to humming while reading and re-reading the limited letter. Every moment of our interactions led to winks, grins, laughs, and fingertips brushing together. Perhaps at some of those inns our activities would be able to achieve a more mature state.

At least I certainly hoped that I could take him to bed. With an added hope that he was in a bachelor state or with a spouse that didn’t mind his excursions.

As if reading my mind, Lee commented, “I think that we may find time for less serious business along our journey, if you’re willing?”

Richard added in the question at the last second. He gave me a sharp look then pushed his fingers across my desk again. This time, I let him grab onto a few of my fingers as if we were reaching for the same piece of paper. I rubbed my thumb over his, watching the blush rising in his cheeks, and a smile spread across his face.

I took one more look out the door then lifted hand and gave it a quick kiss. It was as if he was a gentle maiden and I was allowing myself the first touch of intimacy.

My thoughts told me that he might become my gentle maiden once we were laying on a straw stuffed country mattress.

“I don’t believe I had raised any complaints about the activity.”

“But you did have complaints…” he trailed off while our hands were still linked together.

“My complaints were over the location rather than the activity itself.”

He whispered certain desires after this point that I dare not write down in this book despite what I’ve already said. Our conversation beyond this point was left to arranging our travels which would casually begin on the 20th and take an unknown amount of time.

After he left my office, I allowed an amount of relief to myself before returning back to my farm house. And now here I sit in my candle lit office with constant thoughts of my admirer. I would have three days to collect my own supplies for the journey, have my saddle repaired, and find a way to suppress the physiological reaction to Richard’s presence.