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.
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RancH HanDs 04
a continuation of `CoMPany payLoaD', WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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As Laurent walked out of Suite 5 of the Arboretum, he was immediately snagged, "Laurent, we need to talk."
His first reaction was, No, I'm not taking on another assignment,' for the first and foremost reason, James', secondly, because his first assignment was to be his last, "Whatever you want, the answer is `no,' Bill!" He also shrugged his shoulder, casting off Bill Speed's arm of brotherly love!
"You don't even know what I'm going to ask Laurent?"
True,' Laurent thought, but'...
"If you think this is about sending you out on assignment, it's not what it's about."
"Hmm," Laurent sulked. However, knowing the fifty-two year old since he set foot on the grounds of Elemental Habitat and the kindness Bill's shed on him, why should he feel fearful of anything unjust. "So what are you about to lay on me now, Bill?"
Bill smiled. If he had it at all in his power, he would have stripped down, coerced Laurent into doing the same and lay some love' on him. However, especially now, coming back from the field,' a lover wrapped around his little finger, Bill steps lightly, "Perry Cooke."
"Perry. What about him?" Laurent said, like no love lost. It's one of the reasons he took the assignment of posing as a chef at Giuseppe's villa, even though in his dual role he was a chef, on assignment to distance himself from Perry Cooke, because he and the French chef never got along.
"We had `words.'"
"Oh?" Laurent said, a hint of glee in his disposition.
"Yes and by mutual agreement, Perry has left the habitat."
"Oh?" Laurent replies, more of a happy edge, feigning, "I feel so bad."
"Laurent," Bill says, again reapplying a hand to shoulder gesture, "it is in my power to appoint, if you would like to, accept the position of `top chef?'"
Since the Tv show, Bill had adopted the high-ranking position's namesake.
"Top chef?" Laurent went along, not only in name, but the honor invested in him. "How could I not?!"
Bill smiles, saying, "Of course there's a fee involved?" he allows his hand to swipe down Lauren't sleeve.
"Oh really?" Laurent replies, a smile creasing his lips. Since he knew they were slipping into a joking mood, "Are you `hard' yet, Bill?"
Even though there was a twenty-three year age difference, roundabout time when Laurent experienced his job interview at the habitat, going back ten years, at nineteen years old, Laurent was not much different than the flighty youth of his age, immunity to high levels of testosterone messing with his brain as usual as any young man. Until he went out on assignment, he and Bill had spent `time together' now and then.
"Are you forgetting you're a `married man' Laurent?"
Normally, before he met James, Laurent would jump at the opportunity, as well as Bill on the rebound. However things change. Laurent senses something, "Have you been `playing' with somebody else?"
Bill joked, but spoke the truth, "Now Laurent, you know the only ass my cock is compatible with, is yours?!"
There was nothing there, except the sex. The two never hit it off as far as anything beyond a sexual friendship. Yet they cared for each other, enough to know about hidden secrets.
"So what are you hiding from me, Bill?"
Seriously, Bill tells, "My heart. The doc seems to think the stress of the job is starting to wear me thin."
Feeling stressful towards what Bill was telling him, Laurent also tries to make him feel good, "Did he say anything about this `hot stomach'?" Laurent proceeds to shorten the distance between them, placing both hands on the sides of Bill's elongated belly.
"Thanks," Bill replies, a smile on his face, staring into Laurent's eyes. "I appreciate the gesture."
Like they both agreed on a long time ago, there wasn't much between them other than sex and friendship. Anything else was not part of the equation.
Breaking off the sweet affection, Bill changes direction, "If you can start your new position today, the kitchen awaits you?"
"Thanks for giving me the opportunity Bill."
"You're welcome."
Like being in the dungeon, feeling pleasure and pain, it is how Laurent equated his emotion towards Bill, watching him walk away. Though, with Bill's hidden talents, able to keep his bottom-boy on edge for hours, he knew there were plenty of fish out there in the sea looking for `his' type of attention.
"Oh, I thought you had gone."
Laurent stood there for a moment, his mind still reflecting on Bill. Seconds later he's turning around, "No," he says to James, "but I would say we're in for some celebrating!"
"You're proposing to me?" James laughs it off. In reality, he would not mind it one bit, it being the case. What man would not like having a lover who could make him feel good, on occasion switching roles at a moments notice?
"Got a new job and a few extra bucks to stuff under the mattress!"
"Mm-m!" James made the correlation between bed and bod. "Pay is good you say?"
Taking the dominant role, Laurent warns, "You better `not' hire yourself out to some hot stud!"
"But you said I could `play?'"
Skipping over all the sexual connotations, Laurent says, "I just finished speaking with Bill Speed and he's informed me Perry Cooke has been fired."
"`Perry Cooke?' Is that a name I should know?"
"Forget Perry Cooke," Laurent said in a manner which show no love lost. "You're looking at the new `top chef' of Elemental Habitat!" he said proudly.
With a downspire in his voice, James replies not so glumly, "Uh, does this mean we'll be cutting down on the sex?"
It makes Laurent smile, saying, "What is it with you this morning, James?"
"What? Nothing. Just feeling happy, I guess!"
Squinting his eyes, Laurent says, "Must be the prospects of a new job, because after three `cocktails', nobody could be all up for another drink at the bar?"
Uncharacteristic for James, something he hasn't felt with anyone except his brother, he places hands between his lover's arms and waist, slides in, hands flanking his shoulder blades. Chests melding, James explains it away, "I haven't felt this happy in a long, long time."
"Oh really?" Laurent drops the `happy occasion' stuff, feeling something more of a serious event.
Heads side by side, James tells, "I haven't felt a sense of warm security since... Since..."
"Tom?"
Ungluing his chest, but keeping a firm hold on Laurent's bod, James replies, "Yeah. I guess."
He knew this to be the case, but Laurent says anyway, "Who else, other than Tom, have you loved in your lifetime?"
Shrugging his shoulders, James stares and says, "You?"
They kissed and at the moment of doing so, hear, "Hey you two! Cut it out!"
The gruff voice got James immediately ticked off and looking over Laurent's shoulder, barks back at the dude, "Fuck off and mind your own business, `pal!'"
`Oh boy!' Laurent thinks, but opens up a chasm between their bods as he turns around and without haste introduces, "James, this is the infamous Art Smith!"
Normally, Art Smith would not tolerate a comment such as James had delivered. It could draw severe penalty to the owner of a derogatory phrase, slung in his face. However, like some men in Art's position, the power of an audacious nature could stir up a man's loins, no different than a man setting eyes on a hot lover.
"It's good to meet you James."
Laurent sensed relief, seeing Art offer James a handshake. At least it was better than Art reaching to the back of his belt buckle for a pair of `bracelets!'
"Yeah, okay," James replied with reluctance, for unknown reasons other than being perturbed about Art interrupting a sweet moment.
Detecting the same, Art's job, part detective work, he replies, "And I'm really sorry for interrupting you on saying goodbye to Laurent."
It was a hint, Laurent taking it, saying, "Uh yeah, well I better be going." Too, a hint back at Art Smith, "I wouldn't want to be late and accumulate any demerits!" He smiles. Walking away, Laurent had a couple of things on his mind. First off, `Wouldn't it be hot getting five demerits and then have to face Art Smith's system of justice?' Secondly, he smiled, a tinge of shivering excitement running up and down his bod, knowing James was in the clear with Art Smith. He knew from this day forward, James would have nothing to fear from Art Smith, Art a partial component in that equation!
Art's first question to James is, "So, what were you saying about `fucking?'"
With a look of question on his face, James just stared in Art's eyes. "What was that?"
"Fucking. With the way you said it, I thought you might want to do me?!"
Answering truthfully, James replies, "Nah. Older guys don't turn me on!" It was also meant as a jab, James turning on a devilous grin.
Art enjoyed the answer, feeling his loins tingle. Ninety-eight percent of the time he had his own sense of dominance, but there were always that two percent of guys who could ring his chimes, "Is that so. I understand you're working with Dutch at the `bike'n'hike' facility? How about switching job opportunities and coming to work for me?"
Flatly turning him down, James says, "Look, I've got to go or else I'll tally-up some `demerits'!"
As he rushes towards the automated desk at the Arboretum, looks for the button to push, hangs out for the return call, Art Smith is there observing. Most of the time, when Art scoped out a dude, he would be thinking of the guy tied down, ass hanging over the edge of a table and working his tool of torture into the dude's ass. As it stood now, Art's torture tool' was pulsing on its own at the sight of James. It didn't matter how big' James was, Art in a reverie, thinking on his own ass being busted open by eleven or twelve inches. He knew he had to get away to a more intimate place, saying, "Damn, I've got to take care of this!"
%
Nolan had just entered the administration office of Elemental Habitat, stopping dead in his steps, "Yalin? What in the hell are you doing here?"
They had arrived on different planes and frankly, Nolan hadn't much of a clue, other than Demont, who else from his `empire' had been annexed to the facility.
"Yes, would you believe it?" Yalin says, accepting a hug from Nolan.
"Have they explained much to you?" Nolan wondered the excuse given for Yalin's transport.
"About the plot to attack the Harrellsson building?"
Nolan figures, "I guess you know the whole story. I only hope they find this `third party', so we can get back to our lives."
The twenty-eight year old Turk replies, "I won't not be doing anything different. Did you know I will still be your executive secretary?"
Being he wasn't briefed on much of anything, except from a security standpoint regarding the terrorist activity, Nolan replies, as he pokes Yalin in the shoulder, "I think `you' probably know more than I do."
It stuck with Yalin as something important, knowing more than `the boss' did, "Do you know who else from Harrellsson is here?"
Nolan sat with his buns on the edge of a desk, folding his arms across his cardigan sweater, waiting for Yalin to unload his mind, telling of not only himself, but others from Harrellsson; Corin McInnes, Hector Iquierdo, Jake Golubovic and Aaron Kline. He had a look of puzzlement on his face, not recalling guys like Pete Savage, Scott Harbison, Craig Long or Ritchie Cruz, ever working for him at Harrellsson.
"One question I' have," Nolan slaps his right hand to his own left chest, "and I will address to this Bill Speed' fellow, is who is running the show while half of the office is out here in the boondocks!"
As he says it, Bill Speed, back from his trip to awarding Laurent his new position at Elemental Habitat, steps right into Nolan's quadrant, extending a hand, "Well hello. You must be Nolan Harrellsson?"
Of course Bill knew. He had seen Nolan's personal file. There wasn't much he didn't know about Nolan, other than real personal stuff, like what part of the bod did he like to start with when having oral sex with his partner, or picky stuff, which hand he held his cock in while taking a leak.
Summing it all up, both Bill's physical attire, plus not being stupid, knowing Bill Speed had mostly likely scrutinized him top to bottom either on paper or computerized spit-out of everything about him, but remained modest, "Why yes. And you are?" even though Nolan could guess.
"Bill Speed, Chief Executive Officer of Elemental Habitat."
Nolan didn't give much chance of chatting, bringing up, "I'm curious. While many of Harrellsson employees are scattered about this facility, including myself, back on the home front, who might it be is in charge of running the show?"
He looked at Yalin and then decided to take matters behind closed doors, escorting Nolan into his office.
Not that he considered himself `spying', but part of checking things out, Yalin had discovered, if a button on the console of his communication panel was depressed, corresponding with the one on the desk in the secluded office, he could hear the conservation as if being there. For a moment Yalin stood there, watching the door slammed in his face, but then smiled, remembering he forgot to reverse his findings. He sat down, crossed his legs on the top corner of his desk, lean back and listened!
% Out in the North Field, the ranch hands had a problem, summoning the lead technician of `Field Irrigation' out to the organic apple orchard.
"How did this happen?" Lead tech, Kelan O'Halloran questions the crowd of workers.
He knew something was up, nobody admitting to the severed water hose Kelan held in his hand, in two pieces.
One of the more `meek and mild' workers, nineteen year old newcomer, Donny held up a hand slightly and was about to confess, when Heath steps up to the plate, saying, "I sure am sorry Kelan that I accidentally ran over it with a cart of apples."
Not totally angry, but more annoyed, the twenty-seven year old designer and executor of the irrigation system replies, "How many times do I have to impress upon all of you', not to drag anything' over the irrigation hoses?"
Heath replies, not without motive, covering for Donny as well, "Sometimes accidents happen, but I accept full responsibility for my actions."
Kelan stood there for a moment. He could have sworn somebody else was going to step forward and claim responsibility, but same time, he knew something about Heath Hartshorn some of the others might not. Knowing this small detail, he replies, "If that's the way it goes, I'm going to have to document this, Heath?"
It was required of all field personnel to dress appropriately for the job, khaki pants and matching shirts, more resembling uniforms, complete with boots.
Standing there, 6'2" tall, the twenty-three year old stood his ground, straight-faced as he focused on Kelan. When the irrigation pipe was severed, it shot water in all directions, a stream trained right on Heath. This was the reason he stood there `holding' his shirt, rather than wearing it. He knew it would provide evidence for demerits, replying to Kelan, "I know. Like I said, I..."
Kelan finished it for him, taking out his little pad and writing, "I know, you accept full responsibility." He didn't really like reporting field hands under his jurisdiction, but he knew if things weren't done in this manner, it would be Art Smith on his case to why everything, everyday went along without mishap. Same thought in mind, as he checked off Heath's infractions, he states, "Five demerits for damaging habitat property, one for `the shirt?'"
"Sorry `bout that too, but it was wet," Heath says.
It was the case with some of the others, Donny, among the other three who stood there shirtless, a couple with their shirts parted open down the middle. Kelan asks, "What about the rest of you?"
Heath boldly says, "You can put in your report I instigated it."
Kelan smirked. This wasn't the first time Heath had represented the tribe of field workers when something's gone wrong. If he didn't have inside information, Heath rather having a sexual connection to wanting to be abused, beaten with a flogger on the back, or fists to his chiseled abs, then... "Are you sure about this, Heath?"
"Heath?" Donny, not one of the more seasoned workers steps forward as he questions Heath's motives.
With his arm against Donny's front, pushes the nineteen year old back into the crowd of workers, replying, "I'm sure."
"I see," Kelan replies. "You're at the limit of demerits as it is Heath. You know I'm going to have to report this to Art Smith?"
To everyone else he blankly accepted the consequences, but deep down inside he had hoped for this, his loins tingling with sensations of wanting to feel the pain of the lash, Art's fist testing out his abs or some other punishment, most likely something stimulating done to his balls. Really he could get it anytime, but it gave more meaning, trading off doing something wrong, even though he wasn't the one who broke the irrigation hose, to give the corporal punishment more credibility. Somebody had to take the blame and he kind of liked Donny, found out his `history' and felt what he took in his nineteen years, more than a man could take in a lifetime. Such was the way some guys found their way into Elemental Habitat.
"I understand Kelan."
Still his pad in his hand, pen in the other, Kelan stood there for a moment and stared at Heath, as if he wanted him to `break'.
Heath stood his ground, asking, "Are we going to get this hose fixed? Trees need water!"
Kelan put his pen and pad away. With one respect, he felt for what Heath could very well go through, not that he was into any of that stuff, but on the other hand, didn't feel like he was bringing anything on Heath, Heath himself feared.
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Copyright 2011 T. Chase McPhee
`CoMPany payLoaD' - RancH HanDs may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.