A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 59 By Rob Williams

IN THIS CHAPTER

Jamie wants to prove his manhood to Mark. So the cop coaches his boy on how to fuck ass. "It's all yours now, kid. Make me proud of you." Jamie becomes a stallion. "That's it, Lloyd. It's me you're feeling now ... the cop's boy. Your ass is mine, fucker." Later, Randy thrashes a guy and reluctantly undergoes anger therapy. The therapist is stunning. A handsome, preppy version of Randy himself.

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A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - Part 59

"You sure you're OK now, kid?" Mark asked. Tough cop though he was, Mark had suffered as much as Jamie when he subjected his boy to naked humiliation for his misbehavior. Now the punishment was over and Mark had made passionate love to him. But still he wanted to make it up to his kid, change him back from the degraded boy into the virile young man he loved.

"I know the humiliation was something fierce and you felt really embarrassed in front of the guys. Is there anything I can do to put that right ... help you get back some of your masculine self-confidence? I love that macho toughness in you. I want to see it again."

Jamie hesitated. Then he looked up at Mark with a slight smile. "Well, sir. Me and Pablo were talking the other day and I said ... well, I said that I loved getting fucked by you of course, but once in a while I would like to be a top man and fuck someone's ass."

Mark gazed at him in surprise. "Do all you boys feel like that?"

"Pretty much sir. Darius fucks Pablo, of course, but he'd like to top someone else for once."

"Hmm." Mark thought for a moment. "I guess I understand what you all want, and I think it would be good for you. Hell, I'd love to watch you fuck a guy. But who? Oh, sure, I let you fuck me that once but that's not gonna happen again." He hesitated again, then a smile spread over his face. "You know, I've just remembered something I said some time ago when I'd got through punishing a guy."

"What, sir?"

"I made it very clear to him. `The guys in the house are off limits to you ... unless of course we get horny and call you in to service us all. You never know' ..." "Who were you talking to, sir?"

Mark laughed. "Lloyd! I was talking to Lloyd."

That evening Mark, Randy and Bob were in the garden having a beer while their boys were preparing dinner, and Mark repeated his conversation to the other two. Randy looked intrigued.

"You mean, let them change roles ... become masters for a while? Let them strut their stuff like top men? Wouldn't mind seeing that. Wouldn't mind at all.

Bob smiled. "I think it would be the best thing for them. They could all do with a boost of self-confidence right now. Hell, they clean and cook for us, service us whenever we demand it, offer their ass to be fucked. It's not good for a man to feel like a servant all the time. Their egos are straining to get free. They're all macho young studs at heart. Let's turn them loose."

"That's settled then," Mark said. "Now we have to decide who's gonna service them." He smiled conspiratorially. "Randy, how's your relationship with Lloyd after everything that happened. You got the right mix now?"

"Sure," Randy grinned. "Not much of a mix, though. I'm the boss and he does what I tell him to do. Simple as that." Actually Randy and Lloyd respected each other's skills and they now had a good working relationship.

"But you really think we can use him for this?" Mark asked.

Randy's eyes glinted. "Like I said, he does what I tell him to do. We won't tell him shit. We'll just do it."

Bob wasn't so sure. "You know, I think we may have been a bit too hard on Lloyd. Maybe he's been punished enough."

"Hell," Randy scoffed. "You didn't hear him complain, did you? The guy's such a sex hog that he'd do it all over again ... even with our boys. This time it won't be punishment. He'll love it. I say let's go for it."

And so they did ... the next weekend.

In fact, the boys had used Lloyd once before, but then it was Randy who was in charge. He had been punishing Lloyd then and ordered all three boys to face-fuck the handsome architect. But that time they had been simply an instrument of his punishment. Now it was to be all about them. They were in charge. They were the top men. And now they would get to fuck ass.

"OK, guys. It's all yours," Randy yelled. It was early Saturday afternoon, the usual warm, sunny day that's standard in Southern California. The three masters sat off to the side of the lawn, wearing just shorts, drinking beer, watching their boys perform. Randy was proud to see that his boy Pablo, his adopted son and a natural leader, was taking charge. They had brought a small, square table out of the house and placed it in the center of the lawn. At Bob's suggestion they had draped a thick blanket over it to soften the sharp edges.

Pablo looked over to Randy and asked, "So where's the star of our show?" As if on cue they heard the crunch of car tires on the gravel outside.

"Bingo," laughed Randy. "Perfect timing.

Darius ran to the gate and brought Lloyd into the garden. The fine-looking architect was dressed in jeans, polo shirt and loafers. He wasn't sure why Randy had told him to come by the house; he assumed it was to discuss architectural plans. Randy quickly put him right.

"It's not business, today, Lloyd. It's all pleasure. For you, especially."

Lloyd felt his cock stirring as he faced the three stunning men sprawled near-naked on the grass. After his searing experience and punishment resulting from his previous sexual exploits with the group he had assumed this aspect of their relationship was over. Apparently not. But he still had the wrong idea.

Randy laughed. "No, Lloyd ... not us ... them." He pointed to the boys.

Lloyd turned and looked in surprise at the three beautiful young men ... Pablo, with his exotic mestizo features and naturally sleek body; Darius, the beautifully sculpted, strong black man; and Jamie, the virile young blond with the lean, tanned body. Despite his bewilderment about what was happening here Lloyd again felt his cock stir in his jeans.

"You belong to them today, Lloyd," Randy said. "They're the masters. You do whatever they tell you to do. You OK with that?"

Lloyd was not at all sure, but he could never deny Randy, so he stammered. "Ye ... yes, sir."

The three boys stood facing Lloyd across the lawn. They were all dressed alike in jeans, T-shirts and sneakers. Pablo glanced at the other two with a grin and they all moved in unison. With their eyes fixed on Lloyd they grabbed their shirts behind their necks and slowly raised them up and over their lean bodies and over their heads. They stood still, shirtless, and Lloyd felt his dick become rigid. They were three stunning young men.

"Now you, Lloyd," Pablo said. Lloyd obeyed and did the same, taking off his polo shirt.

"Nice!" said Darius admiring Lloyd's muscular body. "Very nice. Now come here Lloyd."

Lloyd moved forward as if in a trance. He didn't know if it was Randy's commanding presence that made him obey, or the compelling beauty of the three young men, but the architect could not resist the impulse to do what he was told. He was directed to stand against the table facing it. Darius gently pushed him forward until he was face down on the table. Still wearing jeans, his ass hung over one end, his face over the other and his arms loosely over the sides.

Stripped to the waist Lloyd was lying like a sacrifice on an altar. At least, that was certainly Darius's fantasy as he breathed, "Wow, dudes. That's awesome." Lloyd closed his eyes and felt, rather than saw, what happened next. His wrists were being tied to the bottom of the table legs in front, and his ankles to the back legs. He was helpless ... and his cock was rigid, pressed between his belly and the table.

"Well done, guys," Randy said. "Come and have a beer."

Lloyd's head faced the group and he managed to raise it high enough to see them. The three masters, stripped to their shorts, lying on the grass, and their three boys, shirtless in jeans and sneakers, all of them drinking beer and surveying their prisoner in admiration. Finally Bob spoke.

"So who's first, guys?"

It was Pablo who replied. "Well, this started out as Jamie's idea. He asked Mark for this, so I vote he gets first crack ... if you'll pardon the expression."

Jamie looked apprehensively at Mark. The cop smiled and nodded. "Go for it, kid. Show me what you're made of." Jamie walked slowly round to the other side of the table and stood behind Lloyd. He reached round him, unbuttoned his fly and pulled the jeans round his ankles. Then he lowered his own jeans, and his cock flopped out, level with Lloyd's naked ass.

The hesitant boy looked up and saw the other five men looking at him expectantly. They yelled encouragement with raucous advice. "He's all yours, kid" ... "Go for it, dude, hammer his ass" ... "Push it in deep, man. Ream that sweet ass."

But the effect on Jamie was the reverse of what was intended. He found himself totally intimidated. He had only ever fucked one man before, Mark, and he desperately wanted to top another guy, wanted to demonstrate his macho side to Mark. But now the moment had come the peer pressure was too great and his cock was only semi-hard. He couldn't get it up, and he started to blush.

Bob said softly to Mark, "He needs a little encouragement, man."

Mark stood up and strode toward the table. As Jamie watched him, his god-like master, stunning, muscular physique glinting in the sun, his cock swinging under his white shorts, Jamie immediately got the erection he needed. Mark always had that effect on him. The cop stood at Lloyd's head, his crotch resting against his face. Lloyd took a deep breath, wallowing in the musky taste and smell of this muscle god's manhood.

Mark smiled at Jamie. "OK, Jamie. Do it for me. I want to see my boy take another man. I want to see you fuck ass, kid. Can you do that for me?"

"You bet, sir." Jamie's confidence flooded back to him. He pressed the head of his rigid cock against the helpless man's ass and pushed. Two shouts echoed round the garden ... Lloyd's as he felt the hard young shaft enter his ass, and Jamie's, feeling the jolt in his cock as it slid against the hot membrane of the moist hole. Immediately he started to hammer the ass in quick, jerky movements.

"Hey, hey, kid," Mark said, gazing into his eyes. "Slow down. You don't wanna cum too soon. You'll enjoy it more this way. Now, stop and pull all the way out." Jamie did so and his rigid cock stood quivering at the entrance to the hole.

Mark spoke softly. "Now, look at me Jamie. Do you love me?"

"Yes, sir. You know I do."

"OK, do this for me. Now slide your cock back inside, but slowly, very slowly."

Jamie gazed into the steel blue eyes and felt the exquisite sensation as the head of his dick rubbed against the moist, velvet lining of Lloyd's ass, sliding slowly, deeper and deeper into the furnace. The sound of Lloyd's ecstatic groaning made his cock even more rigid.

"OK," Mark said. "Now pull back, slowly, all the way, then slide it back in." Jamie was moaning with joy, his whole body electrified. Mark continued, "Can you feel the back of his ass?"

"Yes, sir."

"OK, you have a nice long cock so now push a bit harder against the back of his gut."

Jamie did as he was told and gasped at the exquisite sensation as the head of his cock passed over the inner sphincter into the secret depths of the man's body. Lloyd screamed as he felt the young man's cock plunder the sensitive, innermost chamber of his ass. And as his cock passed over the soft muscle a jolt of electricity shook the head of Jamie's cock, travelled along the shaft and flamed up though his entire body. His eyes opened wide in wonder as he stared ecstatically at Mark."

Mark smiled broadly at his boy. "Now you know, Jamie. Now you know how it feels. OK. It's all yours now, kid. Make me proud of you."

Jamie was transported to another world. It was not only the exquisite, shattering feeling in his cock and his body. It was not only the thrill of totally dominating this beautiful man. Best of all, he was doing it all for his master, and for his buddies, guys he loved. Here was his chance to show them he was a man. And he took full advantage.

He whooped and hollered as he pulled his cock back and then plunged it all the way past the inner sphincter in the blazing ass. His rhythm became faster, his breath heaved, his naked young body began to stream with sweat. Gone was his shyness, his hesitation. He felt powerful, supreme. And he lost every shred of his inhibitions.

"Yeah, guys. Look at this," he yelled. "I'm fucking pounding this dude. His ass feels great. I'm splitting him open. That's it, Lloyd. It's me you're feeling now ... the cop's boy. He made me a man and that man's reaming your ass. Feel that hard prick punishing your ass, man. Your ass is mine, fucker."

The spectators were whipped into a frenzy. They were yelling, screaming encouragement as they watched in awe the transformation of their buddy from a reticent boy into a macho fuck machine, like a stud cowboy riding a bull. "Go for it, dude. Ride that ass" ... "Take him, man. Show him who's boss" ... "Wow, dude. You're fucking spectacular. You're such a fucking stud. You're the man!"

Jamie was thrown into a pitch of excitement. He slapped the hard cheeks of the ass, then grasped the slim waist and pulled the body hard against his raging cock again and again. As his rod pistoned in and out of Lloyd's ass he felt his climax approaching. He laughed at his buddies and yelled, "Here it comes, guys. You wanna see me shoot my fucking load in this guy's ass? You wanna see me take his ass?"

"Yeah!" they all yelled, whistling and screaming. "Do it, man!"

In a frenzy of excitement Jamie looked straight at Mark and yelled. "This is for you, sir. It's all for you ... Aaaarg!!

He pulled Lloyd's ass toward him in one last tremendous heave, his beautiful young body arched and spasmed and his cock exploded deep inside the bound man's ass. Again and again he eased back, then yanked the ass forward against his cock, pouring more hot juice inside each time. Lloyd's own screams of ecstasy were lost in the cacophony of male voices echoing round the garden. As he felt Jamie's hot juice filling his hole Lloyd's own cock had erupted, and he lay pressed down onto the pool of his own cum smothering the table.

Then there was silence. The group watched spellbound as Jamie, heart pounding, fought to regain control of his body, his breathing and his mind. His cock was still buried deep inside Lloyd's ass, still pouring the last jets of his spectacular orgasm. He looked up at Mark and, even at a distance, could see a new light in his eyes, a look of wonder, of admiration and infinite pride. Jamie had truly earned his place as the cop's boy.

Mark stood up, walked across the grass and stood behind him. He pulled him away from the table so Jamie's cock finally fell free of the ass he had conquered. Then Mark turned him around and held him in his arms. He whispered in his ear.

"Now I've seen the real Jamie. I knew that was in you, kid. I felt it when I first met you. That's what I always wanted to see, and today you showed me. You're such a fucking stud. You're beautiful. You're my man, Jamie. And you always will be."

"That's a tough act to follow, dude," Pablo grinned at Jamie. And it was. But follow it they did, and they put on quite a show for the masters as first Pablo and then Darius had their turn. As each exhilarated boy reached his explosive climax so did Lloyd. Three orgasms later he lay exhausted, his chest and stomach lying flat on the table in an ocean of his own warm semen. The boys had used his ass to demonstrate their ability to top a man, and they had made their masters proud.

Perhaps Lloyd should have felt humiliation at being used in this degrading way, but he didn't. His ass and every muscle ached, his body was soaked in sweat and he still felt the cum of three young studs oozing from his shattered hole, but he felt elated, thrilled to have been the object of so much youthful lust. Most of all, he knew that he had been at the center of the spectacle for the three muscle gods he idolized.

As the cheers and shouts died down he felt his wrists and ankles being untied. The three boys helped him off the table and supported him as he stood exhausted before the masters. He heard their applause and Randy came toward him and shook his hand.

"You were spectacular man," he said. "You took everything our boys could pump into you. And you made it possible for them to show off their macho side. Now, they'll take you to the shower and help you clean up. Then I hope you can join all of us for dinner. It would be our pleasure."

"Thank you, sir," Lloyd said in a daze.

Any initial uneasiness over dinner soon disappeared in the usual loud, raucous atmosphere of mealtimes. Bob and Mark were relieved that Randy was so relaxed with Lloyd, and the boys regarded him with new respect for his toughness and endurance. These were resilient men. All the conflict, tension, offenses and punishment of the last few weeks were left behind and the group fell into an easy affability.

At the end of the meal Bob turned to Lloyd. "Lloyd, perhaps you could do me a favor. Jamie's getting used to the books and he's been asking questions on how architectural adjustments impact the budget. I know it's work, but perhaps you could spare half an hour with Jamie and me and explain it to him."

Lloyd smiled at Jamie. "Be glad to." The three of them left the table and went up to Bob's office. Pablo and Darius cleared the dinner table and went off to clean up the kitchen. Left alone, Randy and Mark grinned at each other, raised their beer bottles and touched them together.

"Salud!" Mark said. "Quite a day, eh, big guy?"

Randy nodded. "Awesome, man. God I love you guys. And you, officer, are the only son-of-a-bitch in the world who can go toe-to-toe with me, keep me in line. Perhaps now things will calm down and you won't have to beat up on me so much."

"I'll drink to that," Mark said.

But with this group of strong, opinionated men the hope for smooth sailing was probably wishful thinking. It certainly didn't turn out that way.

In the following weeks events moved swiftly in the expansion of the construction company and the two new projects were inaugurated simultaneously. Everybody participated. Lloyd was busy fine-tuning the architectural details, Jamie and Bob worked together on the business side, Mark helped Darius on the increased security arrangements, and Pablo got familiar with the maintenance of the vehicles and machinery.

And over it all loomed the authority figure of the big boss, Randy. As time wore on the pressure on him became intense as he supervised the two new sites, plus the original one that was now managed by Darius. He worked long hours and when he finally came home late he fell into bed beside Bob and slept like a stone. He didn't even have the energy for sexual release with the beautiful man in his arms, though in the past this had been a nightly event ... sometimes several times a night.

As the pressure built, Randy's temper became more and more ragged and his legendary anger erupted often. Then, one blazing hot afternoon the shit finally hit the fan. There had been problems at both the new sites and then, to cap it all, Darius called on Randy's cell phone.

"Sorry to trouble you, boss. You know I wouldn't have if I could avoid it ... "

"Cut to the chase, punk. What's up?"

"It's Dawson, sir. I've done my best, like you said, but he's out of control. If it were just me I could handle it, but he's upsetting all the other guys."

"Be right there," Randy barked. He snapped his phone shut and muttered, "Shit! Just what I need."

Randy had hired Dawson because he was a big, strong guy who could handle the real heavy manual work. But his attitude stunk and Randy knew that could become a problem. Darius was the manager of that site and the other guys respected him for his fairness and hard work. Everyone, that is, except Dawson.

Randy strode onto the site and, before he could even speak to Darius, Dawson swaggered aggressively toward him. With his shaved head, tattoos, he was a towering figure, as big, as muscular and as tough as Randy. He walked straight up to the boss and glared at him, their faces inches apart.

"You got a problem, Dawson?" Randy growled.

"Damn right I do. When I hired on here I didn't expect to be taking orders from a kid. I tell you, man, that asshole is not ... I repeat, not ... gonna be pushing me around."

Randy's eyes flashed. "And I'll tell you this, Dawson. That `kid' as you call him is worth ten of you. He was hired by me and the orders he gives are my orders. So you'll do just what he says or you can take a hike."

Dawson sneered. "He's not qualified to give orders. Look at him. In case you hadn't noticed, he's a nigger. No way do I take orders from a stinking nigger!"

The anger that had built up in Randy over the last weeks now exploded. Veins bulged in his heaving body, his muscles flexed and his eyes blazed as he stared into the swarthy face, not quite believing what he had just heard. Then all reason, all self-control evaporated as his fury consumed him. He became a wild man, all his rage concentrated in the fist that smashed viciously into the man's face. The force of the blow spun Dawson around twice until his huge body crashed to the ground.

Randy looked at Darius who stood with an expression of hurt and stunned disbelief. This was the young guy Randy had taken in, nurtured, had come to respect and love. And this motherfucker had just called him a stinking nigger. Randy reached down, grabbed Dawson's T-shirt, pulled him up bodily and smashed the back of his hand again and again across his face, first one side then the other.

The huge man hung limply from Randy's fist, but Randy didn't see him. He saw instead an animal he had to destroy. The brutal beating continued. Randy picked him up bodily, threw him to the ground, kicked him, hauled him up again, kneed him in the groin, hit is face again and again as Dawson screamed for mercy. Randy closed his hands round his throat and hauled him upward until Dawson was dangling helplessly, choking, blue in the face.

"Guys!" Darius yelled desperately. "Give me a hand."

It took four of them to wrench Randy's hands apart and pull him off the broken man, who fell limply to the ground. As he was held back Randy's sweat-soaked body heaved with residual anger and adrenaline and he stared down wildly at the bruised and battered man.

"Consider yourself fired, Dawson," he panted. "That was your exit interview."

"Here's the deal," Bob said briskly. It was three days later, three days after Dawson had been rushed off the site by the paramedics and spent the night in hospital under observation. Now Randy, Bob and Mark sat grim-faced round the table.

"Seems we really lucked out," Bob said. "By some miracle there's no serious damage and Dawson has been released from hospital. Our lawyers have met with his lawyers and our insurance company. And here's where we lucked out. For some reason Dawson doesn't want to press assault charges."

"Course he doesn't," Randy growled. "He'd have to admit he got totally wasted by just one guy who's tougher than he is."

"Randy, that's really not helpful right now ... "

Randy's voice rose to a shout, "He called my boy a nigger, a stinking nigger. What was I supposed to do?"

"Hey, man. Cool it, OK?" Mark said softly.

"Look," Bob said calmly. "What he said was outrageous, buddy, but you nearly killed him. Still, as I said, he's not pressing charges. And our insurance has agreed to treat it as an on-site accident and they're covering Dawson's medical expenses ..."

"Terrific," said Mark.

"...on two conditions."

Randy looked up sharply. "Conditions?"

"Randy, let me get through this, please. First, they feel that it was the work load on your shoulders that caused this. You have to relieve the pressure, to delegate some of the stuff. So they are insisting that you work with a personal assistant."

Randy perked up. "No problem there guys. I'm way ahead of you. I've been thinking the same thing." He leapt to his feet and called through the window to Darius. "Hey, punk, get your ass in here ... now!"

Darius came running in and stood apprehensively before them. "You're gonna demote me sir, aren't you? I'm no longer the manager."

"No, asshole. I'm gonna promote you. From now on you're gonna be my personal assistant, my right-hand man. You'll be working with me all day, long hours, a lot of responsibility. I'll be delegating a shit load of stuff to you. Think you can handle it?"

Darius gaped. "You bet, sir. Work next to you all day? Of course sir. Sure I can."

"I'm a son-of-a-bitch to work with."

"I know that sir." Darius smiled briefly. "Just as long as you don't do to me what you did to Dawson." Then he got serious. "By the way, sir. I haven't thanked you for defending me the other day. What you did to that guy was awesome. And what you said ... like, I'm worth ten of him ..." His voice cracked. "I didn't know you felt like that about me." He sniffed and ran the back of his hand over his eyes. "Well, I just ... I just ... thank you, sir ... I love you, sir."

"Yeah, yeah," Randy said. "OK, now get out of here, punk, before I change my mind." Darius flashed them all a wide, tearful smile and left the room.

There was a silence, then Bob smiled. "Hmm ... kind of makes all this worthwhile doesn't it?"

Randy looked at Bob. "You said there were two conditions. What's the other one?"

Bob cleared his throat nervously. "Well, the insurance company will only continue to cover us provided ..."

"Provided what?!"

Mark took over. "Randy, they're insisting that you undergo a course of anger management with a therapist."

Randy looked stunned. Then he roared with laughter. "Me! See a shrink! Oh yeah, it'll be a cold fucking day in hell when I sit down with a shrink. You can take that as a no."

Bob sighed. "Buddy, maybe it's not such a bad idea. Your anger has been an issue for a long time. It's one thing when you beat me up ... well, you know." He grinned at the memory, then got serious again. "But when it's one of the crew. You could've killed him."

Mark seized the initiative. "You've gotta get on board with this, man. It's the only way. Your anger could land you in a mess of trouble. I told you once before, a lot of cops go through anger counseling. Had a few sessions myself way back. The therapist was great. Steve. He's a hell of a guy ... handsome too ... looks a lot like you."

"And that's supposed to be a recommendation?" Randy growled.

"Would be for me," Bob grinned."

"Asshole!"

"Seriously," Mark continued. "I think you'd like him. He really does look like you, a kind of preppy version of you. The ladies fall all over themselves for him. He just divorced his wife and now he's playing the field. Different girl every night, so they say. It's not for nothing they call him `Steve the Stud.' But aside from all that he really is a great therapist. Helped me a hell of a lot. Won't you let me set up an appointment for you?"

Bob looked into Randy's eyes and said, "Please, man. If not for yourself, if not for the company, then do it for me, won't you?"

Randy gazed at Bob's face and smiled. "Fuck you and your soft brown eyes, you fucker. You always could get to me. OK, man, set it up. But I tell you right now, I plan on giving this shrink ... this Steve, whatever ... a real tough time.

When Randy rang the doorbell and heard the two soft, plush chimes he hated the place already. This smart office suite, soft upholstery, everything muted, smell of incense ... everything that made him want to bust the place up. Then the door opened. "You must be Randy."

Shit, Mark had been right. The resemblance was remarkable ... same steel blue eyes, black hair, high cheek bones, square jaw ... same height, same broad shoulders and sculpted physique. Only the tone was different. As Mark had said, Steve was a preppy version of the swarthy, demonic construction worker. His hair was neat, close cropped; Randy's was wild, unkempt. Steve was clean-shaven, unlike Randy's dark stubbled chin. Steve wore a pale blue polo shirt, beige slacks and loafers; Randy was in a black T-shirt, jeans and boots.

They gazed at each other, seeing themselves reflected in the other's eyes. They were taken aback by the resemblance. But the most notable difference was in their tone of voice. Steve's was relaxed, calming, sympathetic; Randy's was harsh, aggressive, resentful. The therapist had seen a lot of charismatic guys but ... this one! The phrase that came immediately to mind was `animal magnetism.' Steve smiled and held out his hand.

"Hi, Randy. Doctor Peterson ... Steve Peterson. Please come in."

Randy didn't give an inch. "Look, before we start I gotta tell you I didn't want to come here and I think it's a fucking waste of time."

Steve smiled. "That's usually the case with anger management patients. Take a seat."

"What, you want me on some couch or something?"

Steve laughed. "We gave up couches years ago. That armchair will be fine." Randy slumped sullenly into a deep armchair and Steve sat opposite, about six feet away. He looked at a clipboard.

"I see Mark Matsen made the appointment for you. How is Mark?"

"He's fine." Randy scowled. "Look, doc, can we just skip over the crap and cut to the chase?"

"OK," said Steve evenly. "Let's jump right in here. Now I understand that you got into some kind of altercation with a colleague."

"One of my crew. An asshole mother-fucker. Called my boy a stinking nigger."

"Really! And how did you feel about that?"

"Oh, shit, there you go already. All shrinks ask that same damn question" (mimicking Steve) "'and how did you feel about that?' How the fuck do you think I felt?! I slugged the son-of-a-bitch."

"With your fists."

"Of course with my fists! Worked him over real good."

"And is that how you settle all your disagreements?"

Randy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He opened them again and leaned forward in his chair so his face was only a few feet from Steve's. "Now look, doc, you're starting to annoy me already. This whole thing is bullshit, your questions are bullshit, and I don't like you."

As therapists do, Steve let Randy talk freely. The slight smile on his face annoyed Randy even more.

"I've heard all about you, doc ... what's your name? ... Steve. Think you're hot shit, don't you. Apparently the ladies fall at your feet and you fuck em all. You're some big stud. Steve the Stud.' Well that don't cut any ice with me, doc. I'm my own man. I'm always the boss, and I always get what I want. And what I want right now is to get the hell out of here."

Steve smiled. "But I sense something else, Randy. Are you sure that's how you feel?"

"Godammit! That question again. You know, you're pressing all my buttons, doc, and you're pissing the hell out of me."

Steve risked a bold approach. "You know, this session is supposed to be about you and all you've done so far is talk about me." He paused for effect. "Are you jealous of me, Randy?"

Randy shot to his feet. "You fucking arrogant prick! Me? ... Jealous of you? You don't get it, do you, doc? I'm not jealous of anyone, least of all an asshole like you."

"Randy, please sit down," and Steve put his hands on Randy's shoulders. That did it. Randy raised his voice.

"Take your fucking hands off me. OK, asshole. You asked if I settle all my arguments with my fists. The answer to that question is yes, doc. Like this."

Randy hauled back and slammed his fist into Steve's stomach. As the therapist doubled over in pain Randy brought his arm down in a forearm smash across the back of his shoulders. Steve fell to his knees, coughing and groaning. Randy towered over him, grabbed his hair and pulled his head up so he was looking down into his face.

"Now I've got a question for you, doc. `How did you feel about that?'"

He let the head drop and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

"You're home early. How did it go?" Bob was sitting with Mark in the kitchen as Randy came in.

"Oh, pretty good I guess. Not sure the shrink would say the same thing, though."

Bob persisted. "But did you get what you wanted out of it?"

"Oh, yeah. I got exactly what I wanted," and he rubbed his fist, grinning.

Mark narrowed his eyes. "Randy ... what happened exactly?"

Randy laughed. "I hit the mother fucker, that's what happened ... exactly. He pissed the hell out of me and I decked him."

Bob buried his face in his hands, "Oh, shit. How did he feel about that?'

"Now don't you start, asshole. That's what made me punch him. Let's just say it's a safe bet there won't be another session with Doctor Steve."

But that's where Randy was wrong. Surprisingly, Steve called the next day to set up a second appointment. And Randy went. This time the results were different ... very different.

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial of Strength -- Part 60