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 most states and countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by law. Check with your local laws regarding such.
% Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection.
BeaR GaRDeN 07 WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
%
First Mr. Rodriquez came out of the lockerroom, only after being in there about five minutes. Raymond tried to catch him on the way out, "Mr. Rodriquez are we on for next week?"
He left Raymond hanging, but not without extending his middle finger in the air.
"What the hell was that about?" Raymond questioned a hand on his hip, the other scratching his head. Looking back around the corner, he expected to see Renato in somewhat pursuit, but it didn't happen. Glancing over the gym, Raymond thought things progressing in a normal manner, guys working out on machines, doing cardio, some spotting for their friends. Hustling to the lockerroom, a light jog of the fifty feet or so, he pushed open the door and calls out, "Renato?"
Heading in the only direction of the showers, Raymond stood by the outside door. He hesitated for a moment, perhaps because of the beauty the water-streaked door presented, Renato's flesh moving inside, contorted to arms patting down his bod with water and soap. Finally he broke silence, "Renato?"
"Hey," Renato shouts, turns frontally towards the shower door, cracks it open, "I guess you're wondering what that was about?"
Sarcastically, Raymond asks, trying not to allow his eyes to stray, "I kind of was wondering why Mr. Rodriquez gave me the finger on the way out?"
Renato sort of giggles, saying, "Rodriquez. He had no intentions of having any kind of sex with me."
"No? But it sure looked..."
Slight laughter, it brings out of Renato, "Yeah, Rodriquez, he wasn't interested me, but for god's sake I have no idea why not," he opens the shower door a little more, forcing Raymond `not' to keep from seeing his hot bod.
"I've seen it before Renato," Raymond says of the frontal view. "You want to get to the point?"
"Hmm," Renato says about Raymond checking him out.
Though why not, when the owner of the gym takes on other responsibilities, like making sure the paper towel dispenser is full?
Raymond, thinking Renato's mind has been sidetracked, "Rodriquez?"
"On yeah, Mr. R. He wasn't interested in me. He was more interested in you."
"Me?" Raymond slaps a hand against the front of his `Blazing Muscles' tee shirt.
"Yeah," Renato laughs heartily, "like he wanted to date you or something!"
Suspicious, Raymond asks, "And you told him?"
"Told him you only swing with the chicks!" Renato laughs his ass off.
"You what?"
"Yeah," another snort of laughter peels off Renato's lips, "the only reason he signed up for twelve sessions with you. He thought you were gay!"
"Um, Renato," Raymond can't believe, "if you haven't gotten the impression yet, I `am' gay?"
"Yeah, I know," Renato laughs it off.
"You've lost me, Renato."
All this time, while chatting with Raymond, one arm was up, leaning his bod against the wall of the shower, the other hand rubbing around the wet hair surrounding his right nip. He slid down his bod to his lower abs. Even though his hand was wet, he transferred it to the side of Raymond's waist, "You know I'd do almost anything to keep anybody else from stealing you away from me?"
All this time, Raymond had been taken in by the wet Italian, forgetting he was even in the gym where he was proprietor. Now, the steam and wet setting had temporarily transformed his world, almost to the point of forgetfulness, "Really?" So taken up by Renato's words and the spell cast over him, Raymond didn't even feel his shirt sopping up the wet hand.
Having the common sense of not dragging Raymond into the steamy, wet environment of the shower stall, Renato steps out. However, it did not keep Raymond totally dry, matching up their fronts. "Ever since I noticed the first time you checking me out!"
"When was that?" Raymond tried to recall himself, the first time he caught Renato in the buff, memorizing the dark-haired chest and stomach pattern, only having to forget it, since Renato shaved it and other particulars.
"Oh, right after I scoped you out. You don't think I'm going to take out a year membership where the owner isn't a hot stud?" Renato says proudly. Too, he was saturating the front of Raymond's shirt, his front drying out.
"Wait. When was all this?"
"Right after you hit town. My cousin Michael. On account of I work the night shift at the restaurant, he gets all the dirt on what's happening and tells me this really hot stud is opening a new gym in town. So, I checked you out."
Raymond, forgetting all about Mr. R, partially because Renato's loose wares are stoking his crotch, and wet, "You think I'm a hot stud, do you?"
"More," Renato replies, his half-dry hands sliding up Raymond's shirt, "give me the chance and I'll really show you how much I think of you!"
Backing off a little, which detached Renato's hands, Raymond replies, "Like making me lose customers, Renato?"
"Oh that. You should be thanking me!"
"And why should I be doing that, Renato?"
Stepping forward, but not reapplying the tender hands, the twenty-eight year old replies, "Mr. R, he was making the rounds..."
"Making the rounds?" It stoked Raymond's interest.
"Two weeks ago Michael tells me our other cousin, Aldo called him over, told Mikey, Rodriquez tried to pick up some patron at the restaurant, had to throw Rodriquez out."
"Aldo or Michael?"
"Aldo came to Michael and told me."
Because Raymond and Thomas had met up with Michael and Barry in the wee hours of the morning at Rinaldi's, says, "Michael? He doesn't look like..."
"I know, but if you ever do anything against Mikey, watch your back. He saw `Fight Club' twenty times! Loves the movie!" Renato laughs.
"I know all this is coming to a head, Renato?"
Hands on his hips, Renato was drying out, but his excited state between his legs wasn't.
The conversation on hold a second, Raymond `notices' the bloated appearance.
"Oh this," Renato takes his big cock in hand, "sorry `bout that!"
Raymond wasn't all perturbed over Renato pissing off Mr. Rodriquez, "Do you want to finish your story or play with yourself, Renato?"
He giggled at Raymond's response, which did not totally keep the gym owner's posterior cool, him cracking a half smile.
"Gist of the story is, apparently the old lady's wise to his playing around with other men and Rodriquez is on the prowl to check out a possible `new spouse'. That answer your question?"
Renato knew it partially did, Raymond crinkling up his nose, lips distorted, like he just ate something repulsive, "You're kidding?"
"I kid you not," Renato replies.
Conversing, Raymond did keep noticing Renato still `playing', hand to cock.
"I appreciate you looking out for me Renato."
"Hey, `my pleasure'!" Renato laughs wildly, with attention keyed to his right hand!
It only made Raymond smile and shake his head, "I don't know about you Renato!"
Biting his lip, the shower scene begins to run dry in his mind, Raymond's thoughts turning back to the reality of the gym. Though, looking Renato in the eyes, peering down at him starting to pick up the pace, he says, "I'd like to help you with that, but..."
Backing up, Renato says, "Nah. You've got a gym to run. I'll take care of this by myself," said with some deep inhaling.
"Okay," Raymond backs off, not oblivious to Renato's shaft swelling up, "then I guess I'll leave."
"Unless you want to watch? It'll only take a second because I'm pretty close?"
"Nah, I better get out there," he carries a thumb over his shoulder to the door, even though he wanted to see Renato through.
Getting his last dibs in over the situation, Renato says, "Oh, by the way, the clincher that set Rodriquez off was, I told him you and me had something going and if he tried to squeeze in on my action I was going to sic my cousin Mikey on him."
Raymond didn't say anything, but let himself out of the lockerroom. He knew if he didn't have his jockstrap on under his gym pants, he would have more than a pup tent to show to the occupants of the gym. Still, he hustled behind the counter to make sure he would not be throwing any hints to the possibility of checking out any guy in the lockerroom. It would not be much of a surprise, most patrons knowing Raymond was gay, but it would not look good on Raymond's part, them thinking one of the reason's for owning a gym, to check out the hot muscle crowd. However, this was not on his mind. On his mind all he could think of is Renato standing in the shower stall, trying to beat off before the cascading water made him soft again.
%
"That was some cannonball!"
Sitting in a shallow end of the pool, at Michael's family estate, Barry's opinion was of Michael, not knowing exactly what to say. A little scarce on word too, he says, "By the way, I like your bod!"
"Yeah?"
"Well you had asked me before if I liked skinny guys?"
"Oh right." Sitting with the water line right above their pec-spots, "Then how come you're not touching me?" Michael replies.
Giggling, Barry says, "Funny, I never touched a guy underwater before."
"Really? What about on those bear-cruises you took?"
"Oh right," Barry replies, refocusing straight ahead and thinking back, realizing he's goofed because what he said wasn't true, "I lied! Let me rephrase that. I've never touched a skinny guy underwater before!"
"Makes it a stalemate, then."
"How so?"
Not rebounding with words, Michael turns his bod around, bowls Barry over, saying, "We finally get our clothes off and what do we do?"
"What?" Barry asks, not that he doesn't get the message from Michael, coming in loud and clear as he feels, under the water, their meat touching.
"All talk and no action?"
"Mm-m-m!" Barry says, feeling Michael's hands work up his bod, underwater.
"Oh, man!" Michael sighed, feeling the beefy stomach, both hands gliding up to pecs.
Barry sided with Michael's sense of being, hands feeling up meaty pecs, but especially when both of Michael's thumbs made impressions in both his nips, "Oh-h-h that feels nice!"
While Michael checked out Barry's hairy pecs, he took advantage, traveling south!
%
"Wow this is awesome!" Thomas says as Justin pulls up to a very well-to-do home.
"Yeah, well, I don't let it go to my head," Justin laughed off the wealth tied to the home, well back behind a gated entrance.
"You rich?"
"My folks are. I guess someday I will be too!"
Then, afraid Justin was getting the wrong impression, Thomas says, "Not the reason I would like to get to know you better, Justin."
"I didn't think so." Justin joking, "I thought maybe the reason you decided to come along might be my baby-blue eyes?"
Leaning forward in his seat, checking out Justin's eyes, "You've got baby-blue eyes?"
Taking off his shades, Justin replies, "See?"
Smiling, Thomas says, "Beautiful!"
Thomas didn't have to take off his glasses for Justin to say, "Nice brown eyes!"
They both smiled at each other.
"Ready to see the rest of the poor boy's house?" Justin took off.
Thomas turns to look out the back window, "I didn't see you do anything. It closes by itself?"
"Yeah. Built in sensors," Justin replies.
Then, Thomas refocuses on the scenery swishing by. "Wanna slow down before I upchuck the lunch I haven't yet had?"
Justin laughs, replying, "Not to mention getting the floor of my Mustang dirty?"
"Yeah, I forgot to mention that. I like your car!"
"You into cars?" Justin asks.
Smiling, Thomas replies, "Nah, not much. Mostly into guys who drive them!"
Justin was too, into certain `passengers', but wasn't saying right now.
"Wow! What does your father do for a living?" Thomas asks, pulling up to a modernistic home.
"Ponzi schemes!"
Thomas exclaims, "No-o-o-o!"
Chuckling, Justin replies, "Nah. He has a legit business, a company which makes surfboards, paddleboards and other sporty equipment."
"Cool!" Thomas replies. Thinking in retrospect, whenever at the beach, it was one of his favorite class' of boys to watch! He often sighed, wishing even one would check him' out.
Probably Justin never meant to snag him, saying, "Ever been surfing or paddleboarding?"
"Un, no," he replies, with slight chance of Justin reading his mind.
Justin comes back with, "I've tried it, but kept getting distracted."
Now, with definitive reaction, really thinking Justin had a sixth sense, Thomas agrees, "I bet!"
Pulling up to the house, like Thomas thought, an odd shape for any neighborhood, as he steps out of the mustang, looks around, asks, "Anybody famous live in this neighborhood?"
"There's a gay couple next door, Alex and Kyle," which next door was a good mile away, "Alex Nouguet is a designer for men's briefs."
Thomas shrugged his shoulders, not knowing of him or his briefs.
"Locally, if you consider Rinaldi's, the restaurant?"
"Now that I can relate to." Upfront, Thomas replies, "I was there early this morning."
"Work there?" Justin asks, grabbing some gear out of the trunk.
"No, not really. Was there with a friend and met Michael?"
"Sure, Michael Rinaldi. Out of all the Rinaldi clan, I think I see Michael most often. Hey, would you mind carrying this box?"
It was sealed and even though none of his business, but because it was a little heavy, "What's in it? Your rock collection?"
"There `are' some rocks I had picked up while hiking and haven't had a chance to bring home, but no, mostly stuff I've accumulated at work. Today was my last day, y'know?"
"Really? Makes me feel lucky," Thomas replies.
"In what way?" Justin rings the bell, rather than key the lock.
"Forget your key?"
"Nah. Keeps Adam on his toes!"
"Oh. Well, to answer your question, `lucky' because if you were already gone, I would probably have been rescued by some other hot guy!"
"Me, hot?" Justin doubted it, with a, "Hah!"
Thomas thought so. His own age, around eighteen or nineteen, same height, 5'10", 11" or 6' tall, down to earth, country boy, he thought Justin to be very handsome. But it wasn't only features which made Thomas comfortable around him.
The door opens. "Oh goody!"
Thomas was expecting an old geezer, the type which was a stuffy doorman, to answer the bell. Instead, a quite hot thirty-something shows up.
"Here!" Justin stuffs his sack of gear into the guy's breadbasket.
"Oompf!" he replies.
"Adam can handle that, Thomas!"
"Nice to meet you," Thomas says, a smile on his lips.
"Same here. Here, put it right on top," Adam replies to Thomas.
"It's heavy," Thomas warns.
"I don't do the gym 24/7 for nothing!"
Justin laughs, when Adam falls on his ass!
"You set me up, didn't you?" Adam accuses Justin.
"No," Justin laughs, "but it's pretty funny seeing you on your fat ass, Adam!"
"This is grounds for wrestling!"
Before Adam could even relieve his pinned down condition, out from under gear and the busted open box, Justin had tagged Thomas and they were two rooms away, hightailing it out of there.
Arriving at the kitchen, Thomas takes note, "Big place."
"Has to be. When the rents are in town they like to have colossal parties. Big parties means lots of food and hot waiters!'"
"Really? Cool! Have you ever, um...."
"Nah," Justin returns over Thomas' insinuation, "like I say, I'm not into gay sex drama. A little touchy-feely is okay, but fucking around, not interested," but throwing a glance towards Thomas, "yet!"
"Me neither," Thomas replies, breaking off the flirt, asking, "what've you got to eat?" for effect, he cast his attention to a bunch of bananas hanging on a hook!
Justin still smiled, thinking other thoughts.
Then Thomas, tuning in on Justin's wavelength, "For the record I haven't fucked a guy..." purposefully pausing, "yet!"
Both smiled at each other.
"Who's your new friend, Justin?"
Switching his attention towards the back door, apparently leading to the other side of the house in which they came in, Thomas smiles, probably on account of, the man entering seemed hardly older than Adam, which made him think the house was populated by a staff of young, hot men!
"Oh Salim, this is Thomas. What have you got for us to eat?"
At first Salim smiles, probably having a naughty thought on his mind, but then, because it's the first time meeting of Thomas, "Good to meet you Thomas and if will wait out on the veranda I will make you up some sandwiches in a jiffy?"
"Good meeting you too, Salim," Thomas says, Justin leading him out the back door. Closing the door, he says, "I like his British accent."
"Yeah, he's a nice guy. Next Wednesday is his birthday. I thought, while the `rents are out of town I would take him out. Got any suggestions?"
Of course Thomas did. First thing he pinned on Salim when he opened the back door and entered, was the word, bear!' The shirt unbuttoned by two, gave him a good peek at the hairy chest, which he thought probably took up the majority of his upper half and could be lower. The chubby little belly rounded him out, as well as the close-cropped beard. So it gave Thomas no other recourse, pending on one little detail, "How about the Bear Garden'?"
"Perfect, Thomas!"
Which seemed to cinch it for Thomas, that one little detail, "Then Salim is gay?"
"If you didn't notice it either, Adam too!"
When they had reached the back yard, it opened up into a tennis court and off to the right a big swimming pool. Right away Justin starts unbuttoning his white shirt.
"What are you doing?" Thomas asks.
"I usually wash my clothes in a machine. Not the pool!"
"Smart ass!" Thomas dares to say, beating Justin to it, whipping the tee shirt off overhead.
"How's the sore toe?" Justin stares at Thomas' chest, by instinct memorizing the lower hairy pecs, not too involving himself in following the defined trail which splits his abs in half.
"John diagnosed, `foot?'" Thomas replies. "It's okay."
Justin thought so, the way Thomas got about like nothing had happened. "Let me know if you need a shoulder to lean on."
Being forward, because he was really liking Justin, he puts his arm over Justin's shoulder, saying, "I think I need a shoulder to lean on!"
Both felt awesomely good about it too, both without shirts, the beginnings of feeling flesh upon flesh.
"I like this," Justin says, placing a hand over Thomas' hairy bellyhole swirl and raising it upwards, following the tummy trail..
Like `getting even', Thomas fans a palm out over Justin's fuzzy chest, "Me too!"
"Let's sit for a minute," Justin says, luring Thomas into a chaise lounge, instead of two upright chairs, pulling him down on top of him.
"You're not going to try anything sneaky, are you?" Thomas asks, kneeling one knee between Justin's pants legs.
"I might. You going to stop me?"
Thomas smiles as his hands walk him up Justin's bod, till he's overhead, face to face, pecs to pecs and lies down, their lips zooming in to dock.
%
Two houses down the road, Barry and Michael are way ahead of the teen coupling, Michael having coaxed Barry out of the pool, having eaten his way from nips to navel.
"Mm-m-m, I could go for this everyday!"
Michael, his chin bumping into Barry's hard shaft, "And every night?"
"You're `that' crazy about me, are you?" Barry replies, arms behind his head and projecting two thick tufts of dark pit hair.
Michael smiles, saying, "You're getting close to finding out!"
He found out, hit head sinking into the cushion, moaning low, as Michael opens his mouth and envelopes Barry's stiff wood!
%
"You're leaving already?"
Standing at the shake bar, his gear stashed in his Under Armor bag, capping the poured out protein shake, a replicated scene from yesterday and the day before, the day before that, Renato looks up at the clock, "After working the graveyard shift and then coming here to workout with you, and the clock steadying on nine a.m., don't you think I deserve a break?"
"I suppose," Raymond replies. However, on his mind was Renato returning to the shower, most likely cock in hand and whacking off his generated emotions, whereas he had a gym to run. Even though he lost a considerable amount of `hardness', Raymond's mind still had a buzz.
However, Renato after sipping from the straw, says, "Too bad I couldn't help you empty your jockstrap!"
Lying, Raymond replies, "Oh that. That's nothing," he swats it away the air with his hand, when in reality he had wanted to make his hand busy before!
Taking it the wrong way, but in stride, Renato replies, "Well, is that what you think of me!"
Boldly Raymond says, "It's not what I'm thinking at all, Renato!"
"Great. Then come with me to the `Bear Garden' tonight!"
"You have to work," Raymond replies, Thomas slipping his mind.
"Aldo can cover for me. He owes me," Renato was quick to come back with.
It's then he remembers, "I have Thomas to care about tonight."
"You said he is staying with his friend. We `all' can meet up there. How about it?"
It wasn't Raymond's intentions of brushing Renato away. Other than being very good looking, he admired Renato for sticking with the weight training, for keeping up maintaining his six pack, watching out for him, where Mr. R was concerned, but now that he's tangled with Thomas, "Like I said, I have Thomas to think about."
"And Thomas has his little friend, Justin!"
With dismay, Raymond says, "And what's that supposed to mean, Renato?"
"Nothing... nothing, nothing," he replies, slurping the bottom of his shake through the straw. "I better be going," he leaves out the rest of his thought, `before I get into more trouble!'
As he jumped into his Mercedes, Renato heads back to the Rinaldi estate. Instead of being tuckered out from his workout, Renato drove through the town in a happy-go-lucky mood, even whistling, which by anybody's standards would not hold up to the tone or quality of the flutey sound. All he had on the brain was standing there in the shower, talking with Raymond, with hopes of drawing the two of them together. Little would Raymond guess, Renato could not hold his erection, even trying to fantasize about having Raymond in the shower with him, naked, bods pressed together... "Damn it!" Renato shouts out, tooting his horn and the unfortunate, having run a red light!
Of course, the police couldn't be everywhere, but there `had' to be one right at that time and moment, throwing on the sirens and speed. When he finally caught up, which did not require an ensuing chase, he got out of his patrol car and gently walked up to the driver's side. Bowing his head, the cop adjusts his hat, saying, "Where we headed this time, Renato? Leave a pizza in the oven?"
In response, Renato questions, "What are you about to harass me for this time, Carmine?"
Removing the sunglasses, Carmine replies, "You ran a red light. I'm going to have to issue you a summons," he takes out his official pad. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
Luckily, when Renato had turned back to the shower after Raymond left, he couldn't keep a stiff wood, so jerking off never materialized. With man-sex still on his mind, he replies, "Would a free dinner at the restaurant for you and your boyfriend be an option?"
"You trying to bribe me, Renato?" Carmine asks. Yet, he starts folding up his citation pad!
Renato brushes it off, "Why not? It's always worked before, Carmine?"
"My boyfriend and I broke up, which is why I could use some other reason not to issue you a summons?"
Smiling, Renato replies, "Well, if you put it that way... I'm headed right home," throwing hint, "to my bedroom, if you've got a few minutes?"
Their schedules were not too varied, Renato on from eleven p.m. to five a.m., Carmine on the graveyard shift as well, though his `day' ended into the late morning hours. It was as if Carmine had timed it perfectly though, replying, "I suppose I could shower at your place, instead of back at the precinct," though he would have to stop by there, trade in his police uniform for civilian clothes and drive away in his own truck.
"Sounds fine to me," Renato replies, with a new sense of vigor.
Being forward with the showering, not that it would the first time Carmine has seen the inside of the Rinaldi house, he also invites himself, more like a king ordering up, "Why don't you stop by your restaurant and pick up a couple of those pastrami sandwiches Rinaldi's is famous for!"
An hour ago his mind was on Raymond, but now Carmine was on his mind, watching in the side mirror his tall, Italian `brother' walked back to his patrol car. One thing he liked about Carmine, he could act tough, but once undressed, in the bedroom, he could submit to wrapping his lips around a hot cock, firming it up, keeping a guy on edge, while switching off to some hot nip-sucking, ass-rimming, ball-licking and other stuff which would drive a man wild. However, Renato was careful driving the rest of the way home. He knew other cops would not hesitate to write a ticket. Though, Renato smiled, remembering the one time he was pulled over by a rookie on the force, a hot Irish cop and after he was cited with a ticket, Carmine got him off. He even grinned more, thinking of the young policeman sucking Carmine's and his cock at the same time, saying, "He was one hot cock-sucker!"
%
The doorbell rang twice, Ian responding, "Fuck it!"
"Could be delivery?" Tugba questions, standing over Ian with his legs up in the air, his ten inches plugin up the fortress.
It had been on the downside of the apex of their sex session, Tugba sunk deep within, but ready to pull his sluggish meat out after ejaculating in a fervor of heated sexual desire. When he finally did, his cock hung down, as opposed to fired up and ready for a hot fucking only six or eight minutes prior.
His legs falling to the bed, Ian remarks, "That's like the hottest fuck, Tugba!"
"I do you good?"
Before Ian could answer, the doorbell again sounded, him replying to the ringing, "Why don't they go away?"
"Maybe it hot pizza stud?" Tugba says, taking his own briefs and wiping up.
Ian notices, "Don't tell me, the briefs you just wiped my ass juices off your cock, you're going to put back on Tugba?"
"Um, no. I think maybe I go without?"
The bell!
"I do not think person at door is going to give up?"
All Ian could think of, is the doorman off to his cousin's wedding in California, "Why, of all days, the day I break you in Tugba, does Bintang need to be off?"
With an air of silence, after Tugba finishes cleaning his cock and balls, stands there a second, listening.
"What's the problem?"
"The doorbell. It has stopped ringing."
Lying there with his hands behind his head, Ian flaunts his red-haired pits, returning, "Told ya. Ya wait long enough and they go away!" From words Ian breaks into a yawn.
No sooner had he said it, did Ian realize the morning servants were filtering in, probably one of the eldest in both years and servitude, passes by the `intruder', "Has anyone bothered to inquire to why you're standing at the door, young man?"
Even though addressed by a man in his mid to late fifties, Jorge Villa found the dude charming. Dropping the attitude for having to wait, because in his second job away from nursing, carpenter at Modern Cabinetry, he replies, "Uh, no. I guess everybody's too busy getting where they belong."
He says to Jorge, "Chivalry is dead!" However he holds the door for Jorge, allowing him and his tool box and other gear to enter.
"Thanks. Is Mr. McLachland around?"
Waiting for answer, Jorge knew he was being checked out, though subdued, not as much as someone who wanted to flirt, would make it more pronounced.
Jorge had to laugh, no choice in the matter, when the older man responds, "Do you mean Mr. McLachland, the one who owns this million dollar house and pays the bills or his sex-starved son, who runs on `ever-ready' power?"
He didn't know how he could tell, but Jorge just `knew,' knew Frederic was playing with him, replying, "You're pretty spunky for an old man?" he tapped Frederic with the back of his hand, against the stomach and rebounded.
Tough looking was what made Frederic step livelier up the walkway, seeing Jorge in the distance. He loved the look of `rugged', the khaki shirt, a few buttons undone at the collar, the utility belt, navy Carhartt pants, tan-grained boots with leather laces, the toolbox in hand to round out the ensemble. Rather than rejected, led on by Jorge's words, he returns the touching gesture, even more so, a hand reaching for the silver chain around Jorge's neck, making sure his hand brushed along the hairy chest, "This is nice. Family heirloom?"
Knowing he was being played, not that Jorge would not mind `playing along', he reaches below the belt, "Yeah. Gets the family jewels really stirred up!"
Dropping the chain and backing away, the house manager replies, "I better quit it before the old ticker gives out!"
"Before you do," Jorge was being nice, not that he was this way with every man who crossed his bent path, took the back of Frederic's neck, using it as leverage to bring his lips close, kissing, retreating and saying, "You're a sweet guy."
Smiling, Frederic replies, "Try anything like that again and I'll have to do something about it!"
"Are you threatening me, uh..." Jorge realizes he didn't get an introduction, nor offered.
"Frederic," he gives Jorge his hand, after the fact, "house manager for the McLachlan Estate and supposedly keeping an eye on things while the `rents," he uses the teen colloquialism, "are away from the nest!"
Forgetting what transpired, Jorge responds, "Well, I'm Jorge Villa and my boss had talked with Mr. McLachland..."
Having heard all about his employer ordering up a whole new kitchen to replace the old, dilapidated facilities, he didn't clue Jorge into knowing all about the plans. Rather he studies the mannerisms, return to the rugged means of talking, via his sales pitch. "I would be happy, in lieu of Mr. McLachland's absence, assist you in any way possible, Jorge?" He loved saying the name!
Jorge smiled. Their little foreplay was nice, the friendly kiss, which was something borne out of compulsion, was nice, but anything more, he didn't feel desirous, "Uh, sure. My boss said I was supposed to take a look at the kitchen and make an assessment, leaving Mr. McLachland with an appraisal?"
"Part of my job. To take care of necessary items while he's away," Frederic replies, walking Jorge to the kitchen.
"Whoa!" he says of the run down condition, "What century is this house from?"
"The history extends from this being a ranch home. Eventually other parts of the house were extended. In 2009 there was a fire and even though it did not originate in the kitchen, nor flames touch it, there was smoke damage. Mr.McLachland's attornies had recently reached an agreement with the company who `claimed' they cleaned up the fire damage, however using shoddy cleaning materials, apparently."
"Yeah, ya gotta watch out. There's tons of con artists out there."
The whole time Jorge examined areas of the kitchen, Frederic looked on.
"If you have something better to do Frederic, I can handle the survey and get back to you?"
"No," Frederic both smiled and sat his ass on the edge of a counter, arms folded comfortably across his chest, "I don't have anything better to do!"
Really he did. Little did Frederic realize, entering the house, if he kept on course for entering the livingroom, he would have ran head first into a heated discussion, the other house servants complaining about cleaning up Ian's mess from last night!
Going about his business, Jorge peeked up under the stove hood, complaining miserably, but also about the conditions of cabinets, some ready to bust off the hinges.
When he swung open the double doors, squatted down to take a look underneath the sink, Frederic leans forwards, his eyes barely clearing the butcherblock counter to see what happened when most men did the same stretch, the shirt hiking up, pulling out from the pants and to his scrumptious expectations, licked his lips at the sight of dark hair at the small of Jorge's back.
Quickly getting up and turning around, it startles Frederic, Jorge exclaiming, "It's nasty under there!"
Covering for himself, whether he was snagged or not, Frederic says, "Uh yeah. I could see," even though all he could see was the hairy patch, lower back and the faint appearance of Jorge's ass crack.
He wasn't getting by Jorge with this one. On the same hand, Jorge felt Frederic to a fun person from the start, lightening up the atmosphere again, "I bet you could!" He reaches behind himself with two hands and tucks in his shirt!
Tearing himself away from what was apparently a stab at flirting, Frederic says, "Do you have an appraisal yet?"
Leaning back on the sink, casually standing there, like Frederic had done minutes ago before the fifty-eight year old had decided to take in the view, reports, "I have!"
"And?"
Never in his life had he flirted with a dude over early forties. Any signs of silver-gray hair would normally turn Jorge off, but because of the charm and attitude, it was making Jorge's loins tick, him replying, "I think, given the chance, you could be pretty damn hot in bed?"
"What?!" Frederic replies in astonishment, his jaw dropped down, eye bugging out, both hands slapping the to of the counter. "What did you just say?"
Walking up to the counter, which separated their bods, leaning two hands on it for support, Jorge leans in, turns on his charming smile and says, "In my appraisal, I am assuming, you could be a pretty damn hot cocksucker?"
Gaining composure, swallowing the lump in his throat, Frederic gets the idea it could feel damn hot having Jorge's lump there, "I... We... We would never know, unless we tried it?" Though Frederic was on his guard. Here was this young twenty-something carpenter making him `drool' with emotion, same time thinking it could become fallout, a sinister plot to make him get all excited, only to be shot down.
It wasn't Jorge's way though. From a good family, not quite on the same status scale as the McLachlan clan, he still had values, replying, "Better yet, any plans for tonight?"
"Tonight?" Frederic thought about it, in his mind thinking, `What about right now?' "No. I never have any plans for nights, except maybe an occasion movie. Even then I wind up going by myself." Still frivolous with the attitude, "I live a boring life!"
Jorge would question himself later on this, what gave him the momentum to hike his butt up on the counter, swing his legs up, twirl his ass like a spinning top, plant his knees next to Frederic's thighs, grab his shirt and kiss him fervently!
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Copyright 2011 T. Chase McPhee
`BeaR GaRDeN' may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.