exertions in the car and the sperm bank to continue. But as he took himself out of my mouth and adjusted himself back into his pants I saw someone standing over his other shoulder. The cold and angry eyes of the South African tour guide stared down at me. Behind her was the tour, not scandalised particularly, just laughing. On either side were two large, heavy set and unfriendly looking men, who I assumed were security.
As I stood up I looked to Jake, the grin was still there. Over his shoulder, Lincoln looked back at me. Not coldly, or judgmentally. I fancied he almost smiled.
31. I don't know why I wasn't particularly embarrassed.
The manager was in his thirties, but balding. Looking at us with a mix of horror and anger. "I've phoned the police. They're on their way. Good thing Simon and Greg were here, so you couldn't get away." Simon and Greg were the security guards standing on either side of us as we stood in the manager's office. "You perverts are going to be punished. This is worse than vandalism. It’s sacrilege."
Maybe I wasn't embarrassed because I was in a foreign country. Maybe at home I would have been mortified. Indeed, I wouldn't have done anything like this at home to begin with.
"This is a national monument. The home of a President. And you've tried to sully it with your New York sick ways."
Maybe I was just not embarrassed because I was with Jake. Maybe being with him gave me a certain confidence. Nonetheless I offered up a silent prayer to the ghost of Buchanan to intercede if he could.
"How many people visit here each year?" Jake asked.
"It’s a national monument, it’s our national heritage," the manager spluttered.
"Fine, fine. We're trapped here. We might even go to prison. So just tell me. How many each year?" Jake persisted.
The manager looked at him suspiciously, but answered. "20,000 a year."
Jake snorted. "That’s all?"
"Listen mister, what you did isn't going to be mitigated by how many people know about this place. It’s a national treasure..."
"I agree. It’s a national treasure. But not many people have heard of this place. We have. And do you want to know how we heard? Because Buchanan was gay. I got the impression that your staff doesn’t like to hear about that. But it’s true.
"We travelled two thousand miles from San Francisco to be here today. To be in the home of the gay ex-president. I'll admit we became a little overcome and we apologise. But if you send us to the police it becomes a by-line about perverts in the local media. On the other hand if you let us go, you can go to the press. You can go to the press and let them know about the peculiar numbers of gay people coming to the house. You can say the place has become like a gay pilgrimage.
"It won't take long before that word is out. And believe me when I say, if this place gets a reputation as being somewhere the gays have to visit, you'll be dealing with 20,000 people a week."
There was a momentary silence as Jake concluded. The manger looked him up and down. He stroked his bald head.
"Do you know what that would do to your budget? 20,000 a week?"
"I could still do this and have you arrested. Having you arrested is proof for the papers. The word would still get out." Money, wow, money, I thought to myself, amazed the manager was taking Jake seriously.
"Then the by-line is about how intolerant you are to the gays. It
As I stood up I looked to Jake, the grin was still there. Over his shoulder, Lincoln looked back at me. Not coldly, or judgmentally. I fancied he almost smiled.
31. I don't know why I wasn't particularly embarrassed.
The manager was in his thirties, but balding. Looking at us with a mix of horror and anger. "I've phoned the police. They're on their way. Good thing Simon and Greg were here, so you couldn't get away." Simon and Greg were the security guards standing on either side of us as we stood in the manager's office. "You perverts are going to be punished. This is worse than vandalism. It’s sacrilege."
Maybe I wasn't embarrassed because I was in a foreign country. Maybe at home I would have been mortified. Indeed, I wouldn't have done anything like this at home to begin with.
"This is a national monument. The home of a President. And you've tried to sully it with your New York sick ways."
Maybe I was just not embarrassed because I was with Jake. Maybe being with him gave me a certain confidence. Nonetheless I offered up a silent prayer to the ghost of Buchanan to intercede if he could.
"How many people visit here each year?" Jake asked.
"It’s a national monument, it’s our national heritage," the manager spluttered.
"Fine, fine. We're trapped here. We might even go to prison. So just tell me. How many each year?" Jake persisted.
The manager looked at him suspiciously, but answered. "20,000 a year."
Jake snorted. "That’s all?"
"Listen mister, what you did isn't going to be mitigated by how many people know about this place. It’s a national treasure..."
"I agree. It’s a national treasure. But not many people have heard of this place. We have. And do you want to know how we heard? Because Buchanan was gay. I got the impression that your staff doesn’t like to hear about that. But it’s true.
"We travelled two thousand miles from San Francisco to be here today. To be in the home of the gay ex-president. I'll admit we became a little overcome and we apologise. But if you send us to the police it becomes a by-line about perverts in the local media. On the other hand if you let us go, you can go to the press. You can go to the press and let them know about the peculiar numbers of gay people coming to the house. You can say the place has become like a gay pilgrimage.
"It won't take long before that word is out. And believe me when I say, if this place gets a reputation as being somewhere the gays have to visit, you'll be dealing with 20,000 people a week."
There was a momentary silence as Jake concluded. The manger looked him up and down. He stroked his bald head.
"Do you know what that would do to your budget? 20,000 a week?"
"I could still do this and have you arrested. Having you arrested is proof for the papers. The word would still get out." Money, wow, money, I thought to myself, amazed the manager was taking Jake seriously.
"Then the by-line is about how intolerant you are to the gays. It
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