The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblances to real people, alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons, of continents or islands, in countries, counties, cities, towns, villages, neighborhoods, streets, cul-de-sacs, nor governmental or non-governmental areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then why are you here? Seriously, if guy-to-guy sex stuff makes you barf or is going to screw up your mind, you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age in any state (21yo in Alabama, Mississippi, Wyoming, Nebraska), or in most countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by law. Check with your local laws regarding such.
Following, pages of this story contain adult material', intended for an adult audience'. Bypass this warning at your own risk.
% Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection.
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A NiFTy LiTTLe TALe 17 WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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Things moved along very fast, once it was communicated with the board, Samuele Hawkins-Jones suddenly retiring, as the headmaster put it, for health reasons. For all purposes, they were led to believe there was a preexisting condition, beyond Hawkins' injuries sustained in the attack and his sore ass!
In the interim, Dean Martin accepted the temporary position.
Along with Hawkins' exit, Saturday night parties became a thing of the past, rather if they liked, yearned for good times such as the feeling of hands and sweaty bods in the contact sport of a free-for-all wrestling match, sweaty in the way in which one of two or three would come out a bit more than achy, than in the throes of a sexual contact, then they would need a connection to the university crowd.
Things didn't happen without a reason and this was Jason's premise, when he tried thwarting Xeno's plans about quitting Manfredi and taking up residence with Kev, in a university dorm.
"Really?" Xeno questions, thinking about what Jason has thrown at him.
"Sure. Even though you were bent on killing me that first time we met, look at now?"
Ever since a fifteen minutes ago, their mystery guest has been sitting there, intently trying to make heads or tails of Xeno's and Jason's life together, which apparently had been short-lived, over a period of one or two days. Finally, with more than half of the dining hall filed out, he gets up, "I have to go guys. My name is Nikhil. Nikhil Darzi," Nikhil places the palm of his hand halfway between the other two. It's been nice eating with you."
It's Jason who realizes, just meeting this - hot - guy, he and Xeno, mostly by his own fault, has been ignoring him, "Sorry about that," Jason takes the Indian-Arabic dude's hand, monopolizing it over Xeno. "Hey, you going to be around?"
Xeno's turn to watch and take in, mostly pays attention to Jason. In the short duration of a weekend, he's never looked upon his new friend with anything but being nice. The guy he lost control over, even though he had him by the neck, instantly forgot about it and turned over a new leaf regarding his behavior. He even tried `saving his life' over the cancer-sticks!
After a brief exchange of schedules, it's learned Nikhil, a sporty dude, loving stuff like soccer and track and field, Jason reports he will put in a good word with the triathlon coach, if he wants to come out.
`Come out', Nikhil takes to different meaning, "Are you... out?" he looks between Jason and Xeno.
Still a spectator, Xeno allows Jason to do all the talking, watching him try to add calm to Nikhil's sensitiveness towards the gay issue, "I never thought about being anything different, Nikhil. The policy I've always gone by is `be myself,'" adding, "just be yourself and let other people draw their own conclusions."
"You should be a psych major," Nikhil replies.
"That's what everyone says," Jason laughs it off.
Eyes visibly on the clock, Nikhil says, "I better go. I still have to go back to my room and get my bag."
After getting back to their room, it's his room mate, Jay who stirs up conversation, "I suppose you bonded with those gay boys?"
They didn't know each other before leaving O'Hare Airport, Nikhil introducing himself to Jay Chuweet, finding out they were headed in the same direction. On the plane, Nikhil had alluded to his gay sexuality, taking a chance, because he had a feeling Jay wasn't.
Quite by accident, Jay mistook Nikhil's query, because he noticed the steward acting feminine for a male.
It is through this interaction Nikhil temporarily shut up about being gay. Though, by the end of the flight, he was quite frank, which made Jay accuse Nikhil of the crimes; hiding something important, falsifying a friendship and worst of all, being `gay'!
Worst case scenario for Jay, Manfredi had arranged taxi reservations and they had to share the same back seat. Furthermore turning this experience into a nightmare, arriving at Manfredi, their eyes stare at the same room reservation.
However, Nikhil tried smoothing things over, telling Jay he wasn't out and, not knowing any better, intended on staying in the closet. He tried convincing Jay there was no need for anyone to know he was shacked up with a gay guy.
Jay was bent on things not working out. He left the breakfast table early, a keen eye on Dean Martin, leaving when he left.
When Nikhil reported back to the dorm room, Jay's belongings were gone. He sat down on his bed, ready to sulk, even though he couldn't afford the time. Glancing around the room, he wanted to make sure he was right, standing, walking over to a dresser and sure enough, look into empty drawers. Then his memory picked up on something he heard five minutes prior, `things don't happen without a reason!'
As Nikhil made his way to math class, he could only dream about maybe Jason, freed up from his rooming obligation... if it could only be so, the two rooming together!
^ o ^
Walking into Samuele Hawins-Jones' hospital room, Evan Puttski toted a bouquet of flowers.
In a nasty tone, Samuele rags, "What are you doing here?!"
Giggling, because Evan knows, with the signing of the paper Samuele managed to do, lying faced down on the mat of his private boxing ring, there wasn't anything which could reversed now, "Gio and Antonio asked me to stop by and deliver some flowers. Gio said to tell you, `no heart feelings'. As far as their money goes, you're paid up!"
"Fuck those and fuck Gio and Antonio!"
Rubbing it in, Evan replies, "Now is that anyway to talk about your friends, who treated you to a nice Sunday evening?"
Still, to squirm about, the place where Gio and Antonio's midget baseball bat had been stashed, caused grief, fueling the fire, "They won't get away with it!"
"On the contrary, Sam, are you forgetting about signing on the dotted line?" even though the line was unbroken.
"There's always ways to make people get what they've got coming to them!"
"How true," Evan replies, sticking the stems in one of those containers meant to pee in, "and no one can be more of an example as you Sam?"
"It's Samuele!" he says proudly of his name.
"Oh, glad you mentioned that. I didn't know your name was such a sensitive issue. I'll want to keep you calm while helping you get back on your feet."
"I know you're getting to something here, Puttski. Why don't you just spell it out?"
Putting on false airs, Evan replies, "Well, I know you don't have any relatives, at least in their area of the world, not that, after they find out what you've been up to, would `want' to have anything to do with you... and since I have 2 weeks vacation time coming, I searched my heart and..."
"You've got one?"
"I'll let that go in one ear and out the other, `Samuele', but what I was saying, I thought you and me should go on vacation together, to Jamaica. Only thing, your ticket will be oneway!"
It was a lot for Samuele to take in. First his schooling empire going down the tubes, the `oneway ticket', charges against him, he laughs, saying, "You have nothing on me. Your little scrap of paper will never hold up in a court of law!"
"Oh, did I mention, while in Jamaica, you have a job interview at a hotel?"
"What?" Samuele cringed with such an idiotic manner of suggestion.
"Yeah. Y'see, I've got a buddy from criminology class, back in college. He owns an agency in Jamaica. Remember the investigation, whereas the two gay lovers went missing?"
Holding the conversation at bay for a few seconds, Samuele replies, "Get to your point, Puttski!"
"Well, my buddy, Steve Hsui, in addition to owning an investigation agency, does some moonlighting now and then at `his' friend's club, which I thought would be suitable for earning a little extra income for yourself, after your days of hauling luggage up the elevator-less resort everyday..."
He might've been worked over, twice in one day, sodomized with a toy baseball bat, but when it came to Samuele losing the reins on his comfortable lifestyle, all that pain to eject himself out of bed, partnered with Puttski's plans for him welled up inside to the point of boiling, he couldn't hold back, "Now you listen here..."
Everything Samuele meant to say, he never got to say. Regardless of his condition, Evan showed he wasn't playing any games, gutting the former headmaster with his fist, an easy mark for making him cave in to his knees, with what was left of his abs after Gio and Antonio got done wrestling and boxing'. Stepping outside the room, Evan leaves him with, "Hurry and get well. I'll return tomorrow with our airlines tickets. You don't need to worry about packing anything. It always hot' in Jamaica," Evan laughs. Closing the door, he opens it, still to Samuele in a huddle, "Oh, by the way, the office at Manfredi, mm-m, right about now, should be receiving the fax of your resignation. `Thought you'd like to know!"
Leaving, walking the hallway, many thing flashed through Evan Puttski's mind. Foremost, was the preservation of Manfredi Institute. Secondly, the two weeks of fun which lay ahead. Too, even though he gave Steve Hsui a brief description of Samuele Hawkins-Jones, guaranteed he would be a hot addition to Steve's friend's gay bdsm club. Already Hawkins had an in with the `rich' crowd!
On his way out, Evan saw someone, which he well knew was a familiar face, the guy attending the coffee shop and after waiting for the folks in front of him to leave the cue, says, "Hey, don't we know each other?"
It was the guy in the sandwich truck he had pulled over for having a tail light out!
^ o ^
Apparently, Nikhil's room mate had paid the under-the-table $50 fee for a late room change.
From previous knowledge, with his position of Dean of Students, Casper Martin knew there would be some last minute sorting out of rooms, capitalizing on it. Also, with the gift of gaydar', he could very well save a student some cash, not that they weren't reeking of it, by performing some other little duty' in lieu of the monetary gesture.
However, Jay Chuweet wasn't the kind of material Martin was looking for and pocketed the 50 bucks! One way or the other, he got paid and that's all that mattered.
After Jay leaves, since he was double-timing it, doing his `dean' job and sitting as temporary headmaster, he had the privilege of not having to get up and see who was outside his office to see next.
As the former headmaster, hand-picking his secretary, set standard with the addition of Denis Bioga. Every guy who was gay, wondered where the headmaster's brain was, hiring a dude whom did not have a streamlined bod! Instead, the 27-year old's hairy stomach stood a little convex, though he would not constitute that of a blubbery belly. Instead, a person could tell, from the way the dress shirt fit the bod, Denis very well could be defined as a `muscle-cub'.
Self-declaring himself a total top, no one would have a clue as to what went on behind closed doors at Samuele's small saltbox house in the woods. Keeping to himself, other than his job as headmaster of Manfredi, to others, headmaster of Saturday night get togethers, very little was made public beyond his professional life.
This is why no one had a clue to how the Barcelona muscle-bear got his job and kept it, considering he could be quite pompous from time to time, like right now, opening the door to Dean Martin's temporary office, announcing "Jason Croft, next," and after Jason's ass clears the door, slams it shut.
Looking behind him, at the closed door, Jason says, "Noisy punk!" he laughs.
It wasn't his first encounter with Jason and after putting the name with the face, Dean Martin steps out of his official demeanor, rising out of his chair and greeting, "How's it going Jason? Finding your way around?"
"Yeah," Jason replies and with a joyous tone, "but I need another blowjob!"
"By all means, have a seat. Business first and pleasure later?!"
As Jason sat, he remembers it was adequate, but not great `sex', forfeiting the chance of working with rod into the dean's backside, quickly getting down to business, "I need a new room and, whether you've heard or not, Xeno... I mean Cristano Xen.., whatever the rest of it is, uh, is thinking of..."
"I'm well aware of Cristano Xenopolis' request to transfer, which in essence, is little we can do about it, if a student wishes to leave campus and what I assume, you wish to secure his room, well there's a waiting list and if people would go through the proper channels and..."
`Whoa, man!' Jason was thinking, not needing read his rights, or the code of ethics regarding changing of rooms, following procedure, coming to his office to discuss the matter before going right ahead, but allowed the dean to ramble on, get it out of his system, "I'll make it worth your while to forget it?" Jason replies, almost sorry he said it, on the premise it could get ugly, do something against his will!
He stare at Jason for a few seconds, after his technical speech, before saying, "Well, I guess I could let it go this one time?"
Seeing the dean a little bent out of shape, Jason acts out with compassion, "When do you want to give me a blowjob?"
It did the trick, Dean Martin relaxing in his newly acquired swivel chair, even if only temporary, "Your friend's little hijinks might require a little more upping the ante?"
Sensing he could be just as strict at cutting a business deal as the dean, Jason replies, "I'm not crazy about fucking you. How about I have some other guy bust in the back door?"
He figured right, Martin's balls churning with excitement, "Oh really? You know of such a guy?"
Exaggerating, Jason replies, "Ten inches, fat, long as your arm?"
"Mm-mm!" a wide smile completed Dean Martin's emotional high. "When?"
"Whenever I can arrange it," Jason replies, diverting attention immediately afterwards, "what room do you have for me?"
"You're just in luck," Martin begins tapping on his computer keyboard with one hand, the other `busy', "I had one of our faculty cancel the last minute and since his cottage won't be occupied for this semester..."
"No, I'm not settling down to pick up in the middle of the year and move. I need something for the whole school year."
A driven man, Martin retorts, "Who is this guy? I'm curious."
"First we finish with my business, then we finish your business."
With the power to do so, Dean Martin makes some adjustments to the housing grid on his computer, assigning Jason the cottage meant for a faculty member who quit before he got started, for the course of the school.
"There ya go!" Martin taps one key, `enter', which updates the housing grid.
Eagerly waiting, Jason, who hasn't confronted Xeno yet, says, "Um, like thanks, but I need to arrange it all. What's your cell number?"
It was forbidden, or rather played down, the sharing of phone numbers between students and professors, though mostly ignored, Martin tight-lipped.
"No number, no fuck?" Jason reasons.
Rattling off 10 digits, Jason memorized them easily. It's one of the ways he kept track of things before he made it to his cell, in the olden days of `Trickeeping 101', before Jason got to a convenient place to store names and numbers.
"Oh," Jason furthers, "if I should happen to find a room mate, or two, I'll let you know," letting the dean know, since he figures he has this hidden power, would skip over protocol.
"Fine," confirmed Jason's thoughts.
He walked out of Dean Martin's office satisfied with his lodging accommodations, however something kept him from stepping out from the headmaster's office altogether.
Walking over to the secretary's desk, Jason confronts the cub, "I wanted to thank you for making sure I got to see the dean, um..." Jason looks down at the brass name on the triangular bar, "Mr. Bioga."
"It's pronounced `Bee-o-gah'."
He knew he got past first base, the secretary ceasing to type, turning in his chair, facing him, in lieu of chatting and keeping his fingers busy, "Sorry Mr. Bioga."
"No problem, Mr. Croft. I see you have secured the last empty cottage, meant for faculty. You must be pretty special?"
Laughing, Jason replies, "New news travels fast around here!"
Bioga relays, "I was in the process of drawing up a final list of rooming assignments, when the secluded cottage in the woods became unavailable."
It was weird, Jason thought, Bioga's description of the cottage. Was this cub-dude coming onto him? Making a quick assessment of the situation, Jason discovers all the prerequisites for preliminary itinerary of wanting to even date a guy, centering his next words on, "Secluded? In the woods?"
"There's a history of that specific cottage."
"Cool," Jason glances at the clock on the wall, "I'd love to hear it, but I've got math class," realizing the tense, "had math class?"
Whipping a pad out of his center drawer, Bioga replies, "Lucky for you I'm authorized to sign late passes with Dean Martin's name!"
"Cool!" Jason replies. Over zealous, "Very cool!"
Watching Bioga fill out the late pass, Jason's eyes studied the physical features from head to the ledge of the desk, nicely styled hair, brown, matching goatee, then because clothes stopped him from checking out more physical details, Jason could see him having rounded pecs, two perky nips indelible on the pull of the fabric and small convexness to the stomach.
"Here you go, Jason."
Wow!' Jason thought, he used my real' name, which in turn he tested, "Thanks, Denis."
He thought he was advancing kind of fast, at least with checking the secretary out, Jason floored, when Denis says, "School is more important than story about one of the cottages. Why don't you run along and we can play catch up later?"
"Thanks," Jason replies, hightailing it out of there. His concern wasn't being late to class, but his excitement. Already his juices were flowing, on speculation of a hairy frontal assault, if he ever got the chance to see Denis without a shirt. `Oh my god!' he thought, if it went the distance, the pants coming off. Nothing scared Jason, and as he thought on it, "Not even a bear in the woods!"
"Excuse me, are you lost?"
Good thing he had the pass, even though he knew the voice, "No, Uncle Kevin. I have a pass?"
Taking it, Coach Leeds scrutinizes it, "Looks legit!"
"No, it's fake!"
Turning it over, playing it could be fake, Kevin discovers, "Who's phone number?"
"Oh shit! Gimme that!" he grabs it out of Kevin's hand.
"Got a hot date lined up, `nephew'?"
Rather than talk about the only dude who could've written his number on the back of the late pass, Jason replies, "What's so special about the cottage in the woods?"
"I thought you were late to class?"
Jason replies, "I've aced math before the class even started. The cottage?"
"Smarty!" Kevin replies. In a nutshell, Kevin dished out information, making Jason feel like a king, since only privileged people were allowed to set foot in the cottage in the woods. He didn't tell all, saving Jason's reaction, which would most likely be priceless.
Mentioning two names, Jason asks, "Puttski? Any relation to the cop?"
Kevin replies, "Oh, you've been served with a speeding ticket too?"
Meant to send a message, Jason lies, "No, for loitering in a public mens room!"
"Exchanging cock sizes?" Kevin laughs.
"It's almost second period. I should at least show my face. Anything else about the cottage?"
"Secluded?" Kevin replies.
"Denis used the same word."
"`Denis', is it?" Kevin assumes more. "Hm-m," he says, obviously knowing more than Jason.
Already, they were almost like a father-son relationship, Jason asking, "What do you know about him?"
"If you're asking if I've slept with him, nada."
"At least that's something. I know for sure now he's gay!"
Smirking, Kevin replies, "No, really? I was wondering why he wrote his number on the back? Oh wait. Delay that. I forgot. He runs a dial-a-history phone service about cottages in the woods!"
"What else?" Jason asks.
"Uh, let's see. Lemme see if I can think up some superlatives; kind, loving, tender, caring, benevolent, charitable, munificent..."
"Mu-ni-fi-what?"
"Oh my god!" Kevin exclaims.
"What?"
"I'm smarter than you!"
"I'll look it up later. What else?"
"Get to class!"
Figuring there wasn't much else to tell, Jason adheres to his uncle's orders, walking off to the last five minutes of math class. Not as smart as he thinks he is, after surrendering the pass to his math professor, Jason realizes the phone number is on the back. He tries like hell to remember it, but nothing comes to mind, except Denis Bioga's phone number in possession of his math professor!
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Copyright 2013 T. Chase McPhee
`A NiFTy LiTTLe TALe', and developing segments of this story, may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.